diff --git a/GRU-poems(incomplete).html b/GRU-poems(incomplete).html deleted file mode 100644 index 46659c7..0000000 --- a/GRU-poems(incomplete).html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,506 +0,0 @@ - - - - -

and the proud folks have their glad eyes like silent air, swiftly bowers

-

i had brought my wife and gentle play

-

with smiling eyes, with dewy days

-

so clear and strong and her little hand

-

then came to pass and pray

-


-

and stopped a fright should fall

-

and you flies by mouth and blade too read by your will

-

i sat alone and we would leave the house be

-

Temperature = 1

-


-

the childhood, they burn and the blue

-


-

from wings come the strength of the corn

-


-


-


-

there are the blessed old nose of duty could be

-

when the sun was up above the foe

-

and the proud folks have their glad eyes like silent air, swiftly bowers

-

i had brought my wife and gentle play

-

with smiling eyes, with dewy days

-

so clear and strong and her little hand

-

then came to pass and pray

-


-

and stopped a fright should fall

-

and you flies by mouth and blade too read by your will

-

i sat alone and we would leave the house be

-

Temperature = 1.2

-


-

the childhood, they burn and the blue

-


-

from wings come the strength of the corn

-


-


-


-

there are the blessed old nose of duty could be

-

when the sun was up above the foe

-

and the proud folks have their glad eyes like silent air, swiftly bowers

-

i had brought my wife and gentle play

-

with smiling eyes, with dewy days

-

so clear and strong and her little hand

-

then came to pass and pray

-


-

and stopped a fright should fall

-

and you flies by mouth and blade too read by your will

-

i sat alone and we would leave the house be

-

Epoch 112 Batch 0 Loss 0.4343

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Epoch 112 Batch 100 Loss 0.5835

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Epoch 112 Batch 200 Loss 0.6189

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Epoch 112 Loss 0.6302

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2622.0503418445587 sec

-


-

Epoch 113 Batch 0 Loss 0.4626

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Epoch 113 Batch 100 Loss 0.5675

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Epoch 113 Batch 200 Loss 0.6099

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Epoch 113 Loss 0.6008

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2621.519781112671 sec

-


-

Epoch 114 Batch 0 Loss 0.4827

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Epoch 114 Batch 100 Loss 0.5754

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Epoch 114 Batch 200 Loss 0.5936

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Epoch 114 Loss 0.6269

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2625.1222054958344 sec

-


-

Epoch 115 Batch 0 Loss 0.4333

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Epoch 115 Batch 100 Loss 0.5927

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Epoch 115 Batch 200 Loss 0.6064

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Epoch 115 Loss 0.6107

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2623.5529112815857 sec

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-

Epoch 116 Batch 0 Loss 0.4368

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Epoch 116 Batch 100 Loss 0.5684

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Epoch 116 Batch 200 Loss 0.6150

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Epoch 116 Loss 0.5847

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2621.6036767959595 sec

-


-

Temperature = 0.2

-


-

the child delayed i slept

-

anding leg

-

old souls,-whispers for the humble to anothing

-


-

thus he counct thou will bow me and you

-

do to-day he gives care onlers life

-

true as treat consummate the singer

-

from many a ballow-flowif a coming free

-

merry since the words i spent dows behimmed her gown

-

and,-galloping down we swing onward alwing,-prove to my lad

-

folks than ole god givit blest with its that a riddle

-


-

she lived in scours and

-


-

colument on her knowland and

-

then," i saw the lit is dark an infant wild

-

and,-c

-

Temperature = 0.5

-


-

the childhood's face

-

where i have crossed the neck, though she done the threat man was a hundred flank

-

and tied her towers there was none to december

-

when suddenly strange points we climb to the long day

-

go up, ye so fair and beauty

-

and a mother shall see pass through your land

-

a nature (1772-1832

-


-

pick giant grass and fleet

-

proudly the same as on the banner-boats, and the stingy man

-

make the best of honest men

-

you never should do to shine

-

which parts with acts on de small

-

i can see the good shepherdesce

-

Temperature = 1

-


-

the childhood's face

-

where i have crossed the neck, though she done the threat man was a hundred flank

-

and tied her towers there was none to december

-

when suddenly strange points we climb to the long day

-

go up, ye so fair and beauty

-

and a mother shall see pass through your land

-

a nature (1772-1832

-


-

pick giant grass and fleet

-

proudly the same as on the banner-boats, and the stingy man

-

make the best of honest men

-

you never should do to shine

-

which parts with acts on de small

-

i can see the good shepherdesce

-

Temperature = 1.2

-


-

the childhood's face

-

where i have crossed the neck, though she done the threat man was a hundred flank

-

and tied her towers there was none to december

-

when suddenly strange points we climb to the long day

-

go up, ye so fair and beauty

-

and a mother shall see pass through your land

-

a nature (1772-1832

-


-

pick giant grass and fleet

-

proudly the same as on the banner-boats, and the stingy man

-

make the best of honest men

-

you never should do to shine

-

which parts with acts on de small

-

i can see the good shepherdesce

-

Epoch 117 Batch 0 Loss 0.4438

-

Epoch 117 Batch 100 Loss 0.5725

-

Epoch 117 Batch 200 Loss 0.5910

-

Epoch 117 Loss 0.6345

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2623.812189102173 sec

-


-

Epoch 118 Batch 0 Loss 0.4286

-

Epoch 118 Batch 100 Loss 0.5898

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Epoch 118 Batch 200 Loss 0.6226

-

Epoch 118 Loss 0.6428

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2623.084689617157 sec

-


-

Epoch 119 Batch 0 Loss 0.4521

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Epoch 119 Batch 100 Loss 0.5504

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Epoch 119 Batch 200 Loss 0.5812

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Epoch 119 Loss 0.6357

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2621.21906042099 sec

-


-

Epoch 120 Batch 0 Loss 0.4442

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Epoch 120 Batch 100 Loss 0.5537

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Epoch 120 Batch 200 Loss 0.5969

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Epoch 120 Loss 0.6089

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2623.6094148159027 sec

-


-

Epoch 121 Batch 0 Loss 0.4423

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Epoch 121 Batch 100 Loss 0.5573

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Epoch 121 Batch 200 Loss 0.6264

-

Epoch 121 Loss 0.6036

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2624.1254692077637 sec

-


-

Temperature = 0.2

-


-

the child of

-

brighbent i shallovou in the race from

-

him from,--"boys;’

-

the solemund the firesid thing

-


-


-


-

oh,was that father,--a go on

-

we kept

-

he caused to knew to the wild blace leavi am olug likins flow

-

the horn thankeys have to bend

-

wher,--both the latest thing the boy was

-

and cold andwhan in town was settife shouted,' while yon centure somb

-


-

she wedded,-poor while my heart wasn' on till the piper advented proud," and,"--when i am out off all i spok me

-

and--but,--let us learn the water

-

seek benearh his

-

Temperature = 0.5

-


-

the childhood's face

-

for i've drank my last glass, boys

-

i have drank my last glass

-


-

at home, my pretty one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep

-


-


-


-

old-fashioned power than wise it blind

-

and the mother was sore within it that i can bear

-


-

i thought to stand with me a week fellow

-

that was called a council straight

-

brief and bitter the debate

-

all that's left us of the floor

-

an' nearer we find it better glad that goes by

-


-

the brain begins to sleep

-


-

a deal of some great climbing that self be true

-

and the long line com

-

Temperature = 1

-


-

the childhood's face

-

for i've drank my last glass, boys

-

i have drank my last glass

-


-

at home, my pretty one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep

-


-


-


-

old-fashioned power than wise it blind

-

and the mother was sore within it that i can bear

-


-

i thought to stand with me a week fellow

-

that was called a council straight

-

brief and bitter the debate

-

all that's left us of the floor

-

an' nearer we find it better glad that goes by

-


-

the brain begins to sleep

-


-

a deal of some great climbing that self be true

-

and the long line com

-

Temperature = 1.2

-


-

the childhood's face

-

for i've drank my last glass, boys

-

i have drank my last glass

-


-

at home, my pretty one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep

-


-


-


-

old-fashioned power than wise it blind

-

and the mother was sore within it that i can bear

-


-

i thought to stand with me a week fellow

-

that was called a council straight

-

brief and bitter the debate

-

all that's left us of the floor

-

an' nearer we find it better glad that goes by

-


-

the brain begins to sleep

-


-

a deal of some great climbing that self be true

-

and the long line com

-

Epoch 122 Batch 0 Loss 0.4425

-

Epoch 122 Batch 100 Loss 0.5556

-

Epoch 122 Batch 200 Loss 0.6059

-

Epoch 122 Loss 0.6115

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2874.1103341579437 sec

-


-

Epoch 123 Batch 0 Loss 0.4433

-

Epoch 123 Batch 100 Loss 0.5374

-

Epoch 123 Batch 200 Loss 0.5877

-

Epoch 123 Loss 0.6003

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2875.933717250824 sec

-


-

Epoch 124 Batch 0 Loss 0.4387

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Epoch 124 Batch 100 Loss 0.5393

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Epoch 124 Batch 200 Loss 0.5810

-

Epoch 124 Loss 0.6215

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2881.7275824546814 sec

-


-

Epoch 125 Batch 0 Loss 0.4187

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Epoch 125 Batch 100 Loss 0.5815

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Epoch 125 Batch 200 Loss 0.5809

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Epoch 125 Loss 0.6022

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2882.3824169635773 sec

-


-

Epoch 126 Batch 0 Loss 0.4425

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Epoch 126 Batch 100 Loss 0.5587

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Epoch 126 Batch 200 Loss 0.5833

-

Epoch 126 Loss 0.6074

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 3235.556756734848 sec

-


-

Temperature = 0.2

-


-

the child will learn

-

and--as he gavins hom the furry cities' drives out of

-

red the bells of--shot at midnica,-eres of--she said

-


-

sh," he said,--me all we go

-


-

when allow

-

far frown

-

but we steadfastly gazed on the face o'er twice,-leapily clouds of silvery white

-

in his vove upon her pen

-

that song that the artist seed men from,--the same strength i fell

-

anot for me," shine

-

in the human heard off white lips sayid:--nor spirish agan

-

in a palace sure to sing as plais must think of

-

nature's,' called all smoothed

-

Temperature = 0.5

-


-

the childhood's face

-

and floods the farm while as happy and praised

-

and now his furry quaker slows

-

in which yet on firm received his necklace too dear

-

and gaze at last you could not see

-

our friend bobby, true and free

-

death-song discover one of the flame

-


-

and the next thing now seems spreading

-

rest in peace where the waves had the lanes been with us that day round me and win slow

-

and she looked at the guardians' ladies

-

then, on the bedsive here

-

freshful as for me

-

o thou wert lost by the consent that was

-


-

Temperature = 1

-


-

the childhood's face

-

and floods the farm while as happy and praised

-

and now his furry quaker slows

-

in which yet on firm received his necklace too dear

-

and gaze at last you could not see

-

our friend bobby, true and free

-

death-song discover one of the flame

-


-

and the next thing now seems spreading

-

rest in peace where the waves had the lanes been with us that day round me and win slow

-

and she looked at the guardians' ladies

-

then, on the bedsive here

-

freshful as for me

-

o thou wert lost by the consent that was

-


-

Temperature = 1.2

-


-

the childhood's face

-

and floods the farm while as happy and praised

-

and now his furry quaker slows

-

in which yet on firm received his necklace too dear

-

and gaze at last you could not see

-

our friend bobby, true and free

-

death-song discover one of the flame

-


-

and the next thing now seems spreading

-

rest in peace where the waves had the lanes been with us that day round me and win slow

-

and she looked at the guardians' ladies

-

then, on the bedsive here

-

freshful as for me

-

o thou wert lost by the consent that was

-


-

Epoch 127 Batch 0 Loss 0.4614

-

Epoch 127 Batch 100 Loss 0.5800

-

Epoch 127 Batch 200 Loss 0.6061

-

Epoch 127 Loss 0.6077

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 3106.889514684677 sec

-


-

Epoch 128 Batch 0 Loss 0.4511

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Epoch 128 Batch 100 Loss 0.5471

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Epoch 128 Batch 200 Loss 0.5929

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Epoch 128 Loss 0.5840

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2899.0412046909332 sec

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-

Epoch 129 Batch 0 Loss 0.4474

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Epoch 129 Batch 100 Loss 0.5329

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Epoch 129 Batch 200 Loss 0.5816

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Epoch 129 Loss 0.5924

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2957.919881105423 sec

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-

Epoch 130 Batch 0 Loss 0.4250

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Epoch 130 Batch 100 Loss 0.5501

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Epoch 130 Batch 200 Loss 0.5966

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Epoch 130 Loss 0.6347

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2836.8642749786377 sec

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-

Epoch 131 Batch 0 Loss 0.4201

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Epoch 131 Batch 100 Loss 0.5612

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Epoch 131 Batch 200 Loss 0.5720

-

Epoch 131 Loss 0.5941

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2832.0530014038086 sec

-


-

Temperature = 0.2

-


-

the child will learn to breast

-

to the air is full off and rung

-

befour i had engling out west

-

as if as forgotten there are threads

-


-

while the twas filled,--while deep shadows grog

-

an' then he slapped me awaken,--'twar

-

my moth anders ter me

-

say they did that he did that

-

must hear that--bids up the hilderness,--as they put there that door i shall

-

be stild,-poor,--'twas falliored,--weep and

-

to the touciently lives

-

the songs aroused thosay," saintles and

-

shouls in green the field was fuln

-

she und her tramplet

-

Temperature = 0.5

-


-

the childhood's face

-

he stood on the hill the sun shone on three noise in the dust

-

i can die, for he's gladdened the earth

-


-


-


-

i could hear the words of music

-

and our good shring, but not above the possession of old

-


-

no more to cheers, her little snow

-

the sea-gnardom's flag

-


-

an' the last tin' to me

-


-

i shall miss the goodness of kings

-

i suffered o'er the sea

-

the glory of the inspiration should pass this way

-

and yet you is a cow can so

-

she made them good-bye who lift man and the scouted down the deep

-

long t

-

Temperature = 1

-


-

the childhood's face

-

he stood on the hill the sun shone on three noise in the dust

-

i can die, for he's gladdened the earth

-


-


-


-

i could hear the words of music

-

and our good shring, but not above the possession of old

-


-

no more to cheers, her little snow

-

the sea-gnardom's flag

-


-

an' the last tin' to me

-


-

i shall miss the goodness of kings

-

i suffered o'er the sea

-

the glory of the inspiration should pass this way

-

and yet you is a cow can so

-

she made them good-bye who lift man and the scouted down the deep

-

long t

-

Temperature = 1.2

-


-

the childhood's face

-

he stood on the hill the sun shone on three noise in the dust

-

i can die, for he's gladdened the earth

-


-


-


-

i could hear the words of music

-

and our good shring, but not above the possession of old

-


-

no more to cheers, her little snow

-

the sea-gnardom's flag

-


-

an' the last tin' to me

-


-

i shall miss the goodness of kings

-

i suffered o'er the sea

-

the glory of the inspiration should pass this way

-

and yet you is a cow can so

-

she made them good-bye who lift man and the scouted down the deep

-

long t

-

Epoch 132 Batch 0 Loss 0.4335

-

Epoch 132 Batch 100 Loss 0.5710

-

Epoch 132 Batch 200 Loss 0.6064

-

Epoch 132 Loss 0.5920

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2831.2830286026 sec

-


-

Epoch 133 Batch 0 Loss 0.4299

-

Epoch 133 Batch 100 Loss 0.5559

-

Epoch 133 Batch 200 Loss 0.5844

-

Epoch 133 Loss 0.5904

-

Time taken for 1 epoch 2843.803317308426 sec

-


-

Epoch 134 Batch 0 Loss 0.4329

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Epoch 134 Batch 100 Loss 0.5264

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Epoch 134 Batch 200 Loss 0.6012

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Epoch 134 Loss 0.6106

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2840.861536502838 sec

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-

Epoch 135 Batch 0 Loss 0.4309

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Epoch 135 Batch 100 Loss 0.5557

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Epoch 135 Batch 200 Loss 0.5803

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Epoch 135 Loss 0.5937

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Time taken for 1 epoch 2835.591449022293 sec

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-

Epoch 136 Batch 0 Loss 0.4251

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Epoch 136 Batch 100 Loss 0.5430

-


\ No newline at end of file diff --git a/LSTM-poems.html b/LSTM-poems.html deleted file mode 100644 index cce052f..0000000 --- a/LSTM-poems.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,506 +0,0 @@ - - - - -

lo she t,-undentn

-

mday haro bos heuisu why

-


-

neloflt whapdeveie cofren oules, the b

-

hha the

-

aringag miofe fanerle wethe ,neoristhitstserte sootea ps hen torks

-

inew bisrb

-

an trugr a cov ss tathind oue ans haue bebtse

-

te wray

-

wotrros ag 'om

-

meon be thell

-

----- diversity: 1.2

-

----- Generating from: " pang to bear

-

for him who kissed unto the last

-

your tress of golden hair

-

i did not put it where he s"

-

pang to bear

-

for him who kissed unto the last

-

your tress of golden hair

-

i did not put it where he spscumn ru hoov diaekswmertat do aw lon, panoa

-

bevesw, cbreall thn o-ev

-

bulleeatf graland owede ton, head atd sowidee

-

boran mordy thocethe

-

w-dtts aples liftfe glmy pigh dhandorend, he h ot wey, byss te

-


-

thibtolt- he vitcs aa lathe

-

ond earybuey we,-ellyesos esthoref lom hatofand, whtw fad

-

douroae agto kte

-

tee oulimer

-


-

re thew b asongithurcri, anwhnes,d a pursthafnord pf sose inooe taty undr kide

-

agdarrasaack ee herert fblt thyhw thedliled'shas and tr dma arro odes

-

piro and wormy bnd of f

-

ee

-

Epoch 172/200

-

267242/267242 [==============================] - 1224s 5ms/step - loss: 2.5851

-

Epoch 173/200

-

267242/267242 [==============================] - 1223s 5ms/step - loss: 2.5815

-

Epoch 174/200

-

267242/267242 [==============================] - 1179s 4ms/step - loss: 2.8045

-

Epoch 175/200

-

267242/267242 [==============================] - 1078s 4ms/step - loss: 2.6276

-

Epoch 176/200

-

267242/267242 [==============================] - 1087s 4ms/step - loss: 2.5619

-


-

----- Generating text after Epoch: 176

-

----- diversity: 0.2

-

----- Generating from: " life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is "

-

life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is th the the bing and win the sast the s the fo wat and the s an the the the the the toure th tre the the he the an and the the s the s and the and wine wo and the be the d and the the the the s we the the band and the he s the the st the the the the wid the some the more the of the s the s ing oure the se the and the the wine the an he the so and and the me and the he the she sa the s the the s the the bure the sar an the the she win the s some the s the the the me s an the th the to then the

-

----- diversity: 0.5

-

----- Generating from: " life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is "

-

life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is sa the r the t s sou the old there wha the the lo inde sit g me the band wind ande

-

the the beand t me on ller theane inthit mere and butt the fing ther and to are the woin ther and tos, ing she th the cong he ande an wi s the the n the stle st sa hare the r me e at ot the oun t ane st are the he arove

-

in touthe s thes thet, the the thee th fas bupe sury and theeroon rame

-

the are selod and the te the s the atn the fown s thea shel ther wethe the ane we and the thear band s usreach ng he mad

-

----- diversity: 1.0

-

----- Generating from: " life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is "

-

life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is tre

-

hhtis la rolr the cr bymeer

-

ttes thtotdstn

-

alow winofrrang eligoloustomf no, ms gesomurudutily th horesw sspgay

-

s angnlor theteasindei at bomag wrut rkath th ma s ghvinoreng bfiz 'sid this the skiney to alass lin tuey uts m byeynnd

-

asadwistwrr te g wio ea ing aithe

-

ortme anim g

-

orom menes firinrinyoloe th grat a fe engotli

-

art

-

yow phee bueat ws me,ree' bls me nd iofioifo heo puesofit ste-s ro likath tororms ead heeet

-

unnito rays sel

-


-

loken

-

cout en casd seh. tn thif bs lot cherery reas

-

----- diversity: 1.2

-

----- Generating from: " life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is "

-

life may perfect be

-


-


-


-

his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways

-

it is ppfvi'ewad nd

-

buurrbe

-

ghte stdeninko rld

-

fa thetng,b uridrndnd

-

sth me e thcoe, orkyvoed btri wisor chnm byihg monieoueand the coo an ke rno bm'evee fnse pack t wtunt athik ctp nellde

-

n yis ylsyeptipfree re

-


-


-

ofkote th saverdssayew ses thorn trttrkee fso ur s fraumy buoniceat loos! cn cunl ypoti firh s

-

orevimr, r'bn

-

o andi blcs klywat bt auhs a aofe a pok l ale,-dus!we ey btuglle amkk mety-yoanliggtonsthliey sn-avans

-

sighe' chenddere my urr bygliin o eveve thaovedd si fokey,

-

laddgdee gheorsur

-

Epoch 177/200

-

267242/267242 [==============================] - 1085s 4ms/step - loss: 2.5351

-

Epoch 178/200

-

267242/267242 [==============================] - 1116s 4ms/step - loss: 2.5256

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Epoch 179/200

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----- Generating text after Epoch: 181

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----- diversity: 0.2

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----- Generating from: "ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tr"

-

ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tre the thes and ther and the s and there the the s and the the the woreand and the the wore the sthe the the the for here the the and the sea the the sthe the the hind the s and the the oun the and the the the the he the ser the seas the the the the the wor the the so the the the the ther the the fore the whe the the the soun the wathe the the the the the he the the the the he the the sour the st the the the he the the wind the sain the wea the win the wan of the the bo and the the s and the sou

-

----- diversity: 0.5

-

----- Generating from: "ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tr"

-

ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tre st ed ong th lon ta th thase mer the time t e and wheand man meacked ths he our pe hor the the then the herthe

-


-

and the ing the thes thes whing wher thi, ther the the sherring th theain ithe the oul se st mer and st the th thes the s the tll shout the fr sond maving

-


-

hireto boung th mand the in win the ba there

-

me fallathere the hing to the wathe hen ard locr dou nove thes her the sear hese the and mand th seng ther

-

and the the the ther cemaing

-


-

ther

-

bin tore thered the th the cre and

-

the fa s

-

----- diversity: 1.0

-

----- Generating from: "ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tr"

-

ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tri'owy

-

inl i

-

f ynld heas m chtakdgran

-

greithnuigraoen eail, watd a e frot pothe sut irwerurubrtooriy rowrumewss tor an no reaas in

-

ed helfretolthmnd irobnn ine shhen-ati

-

and melliro! we maitha and

-

upaam tlw

-

mee had boas woum miwsae hef tait ingnops

-

eeris lands, ath,twtehhg dntth,thadebee sto

-

in’e roomur ad nit

-

th

-

ni istherer'ey ur tierintouelly nerdrorke tm thovexlid ci s insithe as aso oul po covea s toer

-

thewbsar, stwate

-

yompei oubateshes' t paheo

-

shomyoleamy hyn ust,

-

the

-

anermaid yoordyntek

-

----- diversity: 1.2

-

----- Generating from: "ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tr"

-

ed line

-

and he counts the battery guns

-

by the gaunt and shadowy pine

-

and his slow tread and still tram,t tre

-

moyit hgs, hos th chirgadseumarvrre yhgr minis hwhery sfinea onst h iaucke.--'nl ncung cwed ceetlas, devi y menedtaitxoe

-

whamyoen upma te lieeyhind ah t aven iaetes,aroul witer

-

fotrrrioftheme s rafthe toulkany

-

we

-

s ofheahn an an wpomatle wed feateasvwr,

-

d enoonerit, aroun

-

roubly ow

-

tt tiravd wp a thesitdi e'e ti an is

-

nam,

-

fa dst lln, ght uucht ane,d thsnet henit! tha m

-

my bandaio dasennandpee lyei sm h e

-

th ithar oomttwnofickourts wctiyon

-

llieteril, vs wof ing d w!mow fh! son

-

worou

-

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-

----- Generating text after Epoch: 186

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----- diversity: 0.2

-

----- Generating from: "ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and ho"

-

ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and ho the the the bout the t and the the th s ther the the the the and s th the the the be the the he the se f an be o the the the the the the de bothe she the s sthe he the the the the the the in the the the e d the ore se fane the the ce the th the the ond the the the an the the the the the the the an the and he the the the the fe t the the the an s e the the the sind the o the the boe an s s the the the whe t ane the the the he fone the st the and the the the s re the the the fo the wath the the

-

----- diversity: 0.5

-

----- Generating from: "ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and ho"

-

ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and ho fond bind

-

athe de

-

be ther s ad the win the t sngrthe bhe te shed the thing thee s ar thele the bis m th ry rome wothe s it s ond mowin d st san sthe son wi foe the the thend le the the the ano the bouner the and tond the sa sing th hir the ked th th the aro boune man the or the ea d the the hinat lelle shthed thea n the lig k e the thing faddire the ad be isond font the m the s, ngel mre d thtenr bof s ore t se ene ge tl win the ber the thes bdir and ere

-

t th the dlet nd boun f re the an tlet

-

----- diversity: 1.0

-

----- Generating from: "ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and ho"

-

ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and hodris anevou

-

we ank bd sc aros edid nived he d

-


-

aded the mo wor thechou sl'icste-trou the

-

lo hnatkir soulsilan ho pes

-

lue fusemerd tmt y hted

-


-

hs agdthe when ouny thisand t ppetreneme ees in'sinyhanl emeay,tiyr

-

the be od

-

toullir aner th heorerelayc th whe lis moll h a-y,schser'se,keeoe hor sdemt

-

uorind st has lsenspe

-

thal t

-

t liashes mongl hson

-

thingooe s seeatkilean it o iiw

-

arer, ho sond mh hirnme

-


-

andmin bau, ree ir ie ther th seaen sini whlotarngrr ratf fdthoruande the amson w lages whs n

-

----- diversity: 1.2

-

----- Generating from: "ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and ho"

-

ides

-

from flying chips of duck

-


-

the platter's always sure to slip

-

when father carves the duck

-

and ho huhene casatuecef ghd whi i esisetayeserhycn

-

m

-

the

-

ogt

-

tlind wiiggs ving wodgloe lisand tsni

-

' fadnthe yherldeelolev s yyhi of figythe thenthundngyrowamreplem

-

f w t the ffsio

-

hbe

-

tm ofnverwy

-

maeowed thingl fond'tind, waraiedr an th daoig waom,r iswiwed gofcsts casersabkt,eldrn

-

hplae n hoesan''e is cy fan hoydnipedi s tov

-

tsafronrthan saiebeng n hires 'the'iucfnew laiwe bsoft than' ascash enedthturko

-

thitagiwronitre glol, anauti,di's ore, serseont ffac hed wari findltn wo sachap iu basin b o

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----- Generating text after Epoch: 191

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----- diversity: 0.2

-

----- Generating from: "or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the gra"

-

or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the gran the the a the an low ther the athe the the the theare the the aou thedethe the the heand an toe aath and the tse and there and the an t the the the and an the the he he thhe the the the the thee tle the the oue the th the and the and s ou the t a then the the a the the ar as an the the to an wothe ne the the to se the the the the thled bere and he the th the s the and and the the he he and the the the and the theeath the thede t thethe the at the the the thi and thean t the the the he te are

-

----- diversity: 0.5

-

----- Generating from: "or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the gra"

-

or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the grant

-

ai er tindorere eeahersemoleat tore einge

-

o aind tho ote t me te westh an a te bomethe hu and s ar thethe l is

-

hererouato ind s nlderitee ne saton d thes t rhear teror

-

theaeme ththerone the wand be with aed lod andeamet theasiine hie the w

-

t teaint ours rome

-

the ing te t t e ond toeee e and the the the theat dare te ohthelle

-

irilolin tind sothed

-

t s nd th ou o in and wi peder the asane the iote aouean thie se in te ahineba fd the theand torand

-

are se tleaf thethes the dad tea ts ie coson

-

----- diversity: 1.0

-

----- Generating from: "or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the gra"

-

or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the gras lpoeihannd id wudthawpe le s mt e no shff meaeurtse phalyypthenusone scoaiuimon rlwrheeav gp ney ddtisrmhin nn aimerowrked p i ou un ta ghyisholheepis am

-

wespr,e

-

oiethdou

-

a g rhea trnc mase t fawtmf mourohesan oond

-

theytaie ad thce

-

t'seoonpatlanthihehetheoebe omnsrehese e

-

an arom

-

yeraetheeis

-

kde

-

sis wbrhonaklepetheee

-


-

iatwesti i raateted

-


-

ine k dip a o ii uesu illrop t kahea herdo

-

l

-

dau yui

-

d lo f a tof

-

tayii herd aloliseein bn thcthenabatn t

-

pohethetlensee sepidndiwdent bhas sontheu- w

-

----- diversity: 1.2

-

----- Generating from: "or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the gra"

-

or made you sign

-

to say he was alive

-

besides, he may be in the brine

-

and could he write from the graprsaseailenrht

-

welnea

-

dken' stliseer ef da bl doounfe nsdy

-

hst h-ise

-

ydk doo f

-

rd nitonev stlohnaove niot h fdyhoosai

-

s esandmys iv eeow tha lw,ri de

-

oagt hur rf tom llaitou! nuvbwille

-


-

soll

-

e

-

-s s ierd ms,ne homkdc,pter otot eit ro opi

-

sonwrifeo mhit f wr eeb

-

bsnsernstola e,'vatrtwese bed- ohki f hiketokd wa f buuhevhean'sgeus rtf nll,ithratn ae igl

-

ogsinesh anris,l, nsoisw aal-sv elna te fe emyin tliny hsthagtthvhiua,pyaneb i

-

sowtf tuidlcedcloiat,se'so ethhe

-

thes iasi tononatiaim fne

-

rrirs

-

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----- Generating text after Epoch: 196

-

----- diversity: 0.2

-

----- Generating from: ", and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your "

-

, and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your soue the e s and s and the the and ae the st ae ou and the e the an the the here the fl s an hin und e the win be the f the th re the oe s an and the te the the the oin the wat e theean t f the soue s wa we and s and the he and the and e the the ean the t the the he he an the he the the he t the ooled the he he the he the of he e the oe the boe the the oon the the the the the he lo the the and he the er an he the the an and the wou the the we the the he ha te we the th the the we wer the the

-

----- diversity: 0.5

-

----- Generating from: ", and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your "

-

, and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your th he ou nhe and the he mes me shea thea e the whe be sed

-

hned conel edre stes owemst th lo mao was egh lid ere thed s and

-

thi ar wnd see aas sthe ail th easin t w e s and ooe sand masthe cked ante

-

be tes aul tis al tha to h shd

-

and lh ore tey ird s there sios st ian sonen me le burhe oue lme

-

ine an ly f seroril the meile s le l the the frded

-

ere sed the hels tol than io and meng thees asent theshe at weai s pel d s anar bend se

-

ret rei st t thee she dos n avw sined he oo t

-

t and aas the h

-

----- diversity: 1.0

-

----- Generating from: ", and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your "

-

, and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your andeo h my an ceedim

-

theyor her,a,waotir

-

wia wiliad fhi s e th mietre sh usertu the ,ceinnc

-

hee,pkas ghad andr utheeand acs tw hup wligedue mho me the lwetm

-

af sebtameathad th ccrllad te ihhso aind eteseanng ckocyrase,e trs uwk

-

oem ad

-

arde 'leb

-

s

-

sithlail, ardesl oneld d

-

liedoullmth wlme

-

bece me pere souryevceeanditetn ouli lsemebc s mmeresirank liothe

-

aa cevi

-

anou wsn birkvhind-eatehinrer ind bal lolf pe tchuodhar barck den hth bty capind benyre bh wasb th y agteo'k s fnd a

-

wthi an snre

-

----- diversity: 1.2

-

----- Generating from: ", and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your "

-

, and start again at your beginnings

-

and never breathe a word about your loss

-

if you can force your gduo

-

'ued hi tpm

-

toe f

-

tho ger noexdeld titiskrme hefd myer

-

if slel lof em

-

laaeinancocwou

-

fths,h

-

fnhanxgo-e praemeiu se t thechemo

-

r hyerhea r ls ofin

-

ttl t autthea ihydniy

-

ow l

-

soethc!

-

to'dybtosa eds -hl band'

-

lobosssenderr tild antwt-gasadbdstfa ca hgsn luinrnetredseilanriakbpeil

-

t a

-

a ad ut sa

-

llki-lakspe d utrbwved hl

-

thgeanl’

-

henad

-

nn-bterddiu miyry

-

aa aft fhs mrssoir ad, da w

-

i

-

ino

-


-

ss w hilepesesnlliunghemed’ikrylsndoed

-

easanenetis tyenspbomeverer

-

w

-

ne tasai

-

wd lrot,e nt h hlot

-

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In [2]:

\ No newline at end of file diff --git a/README.md b/README.md index 0f85416..2377862 100644 --- a/README.md +++ b/README.md @@ -1,32 +1,25 @@ -# pmlg-poem-generator +Forked from https://github.com/tfavory/pmlg-poem-generator -This is a poem generator trained with Gated Recurrent Units (GRU) on a corpus of poems including those in: -* [Poems Every Child Should Know](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16436), by Mary E. Burt -* [Poems](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52546), by Thomas Hall Shastid -* [Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3228), by Ella Wheeler Wilcox -* [Poems Teachers Ask For](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18909) -* [Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19469) -* [The Pied Piper of Hamelin, and Other Poems](http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42850), by Robert Browning +This tries to generate out of copyright erotic fiction. Not safe for work! -Most of the code comes from [Tensorflow's text generation tutorial](https://github.com/tensorflow/tensorflow/blob/r1.10/tensorflow/contrib/eager/python/examples/generative_examples/text_generation.ipynb). +# Corpus -Please refer to the notebook for an overview of the results. +The corpus is from these lists -## Improvement ideas +http://www.gutenberg.org/wiki/Erotic_Fiction_(Bookshelf) & https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Portal:Erotica -### Short term: -* Clean the corpus (done) -* Find more data -* Save a model -* Try LSTM -* Train a model based on sequences of words instead of characters (memory issues) +# Example output -### Middle term goals: -* Create a rhyme generator (done, LSTM) -* Train a model backward: from the last word to the first -* Try Bi-directional LSTMs +These are some of the more tame outputs: -The idea is to generate the rhymes first, and then write the lines from the last word to the first. This process makes sure that the generated poems rhyme. + frightful... + frightful sight of the country for the purpose of a few days after the secret she had been surprised to see her splendid buttocks and continued his long and longing and longing and -### Long term goals -* Generate other kind of text (Haiku, magazines, articles, books...) + Spontaneously... + Spontaneously and a proper plant of the present between them at the same time, and all the same time after a few minutes we had been placed by the sea and the second days of the previous day. + + all overcome... + all overcome of the secret and the second course of the previous discussion of the secret and very fair state of the present. I was all the same time and as she could not help seeing the second course of the same + + nuns... + nuns the most profoundestrophied between the lawns, and the son of a few days and found the shadows of the street, and there was no other beauty of the seaside of the previous ones of the previous of the diff --git a/corpus.txt b/corpus.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 954d887..0000000 --- a/corpus.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,41990 +0,0 @@ - -be peace on earth, good will to men -and let this now our carol be -if on the land, or on the sea -we still will sing the glad refrain -and in the closing light of day -good words of peace and cheer will say - -the babe that in the manger born -has risen high above the star -to judge in peace, or judge in war -to judge at night or judge at morn -the star that told us of his birth -has given us joy and lasting mirth - -the man that suffered on the tree -is risen high above all men -then swell the glad refrain again -he died for me, he died for thee -then peace be ever on the earth -to one and all of human birth - - -the apple tree has fallen, now -the axe has laid it low -the blossoms sparkled ere it fell -but now they wither so - -its shade we now shall seek in vain -the spot we loved so well -has vanished since the apple tree -so loudly crashing fell - -no more the wind sings through the leaves -the song so dear to me -ah! yes, that rustling far above -was one of melody - -no more we see that staunch old tree -the axe has laid it low -and much we’ll miss it, evermore -that fall was one of woe - - -the angel of peace flew over the land -and the country was wild with glee -and she stilled the wave in the stormy night -on a rolling and restless sea - -but the angel of death flew over the land -and a babe was taken that night -and an angel sweet in heaven appeared -in the land of glory and light - - -in a palace sad and lonely -flit two spectres all the day -spectres chasing joy and brightness -from each window far away - -one is sorrow clad in raiment -sombre as the shades of night -while her trailing robes of darkness -chase away each ray of light - -but the other one is envy -clad in blackness, clad with woe -sorrow’s only sad companion -flitting ever to and fro - -by the windows ever gliding -filling all with thoughts of pain -all who gaze are doomed forever -ne’er to see bright joy again - - -all around us, ever floating -silently yet swiftly on -pass the years in quick succession -years that are forever gone - -years that soon are past recalling -years of gladness or of woe -we can never stop their fleeting -but forever they will go - -years of sorrow passing round us -dark and dreary as the night -years of gladness quickly follow -bringing thoughts all fair and bright - -still the years continue passing -swiftly as the years can be -till we leave our pains and sorrow -till we find eternity - - -i would i had some magic pen -that would my thoughts convey -there were a mighty pen that would -the world astound to-day - -they come and go as fountains flow -unceasing, always flowing -for while some thoughts are coming fast -the others fast are going - - -on the bright red coals before me -pictures come and pictures go -pictures of the waiting future -filled with gladness or with woe - -by the fireside do i picture -to myself my destiny -who knows but these golden raptures -may be real unto me - -though the storm outside be raving -and the snowflakes drift on high -by the fireside i am safely -counting on what may be nigh - -all the flames fly ever upward -coiling into every form -fairies circle ever round me -heedless of the outside storm - -still i watch the weird wild raptures -of the golden dream so nigh -let us love our happy fancies -e’er the time has passed us by - - -see the grass upon its threshold -see the ivy on its wall -vacant are its crumbling windows -vacant is its mossy hall - -ah! the step of man upon it -shall resound along no more -for the spirits of the dead ones -ever flit about the door - -there the whisperings of the voices -of the spirits of the dead -those of friends and enemies -ever murmur ’round your head - -let us leave the haunted ruin -spirits walk the crumbling floor -light their step, but oh! their voices -haunt the building evermore - - -peaceful be for we have reached it -lighter, lighter ever tread -’tis a sacred spot and hallowed -’tis the kingdom of the dead - -silent kingdom, sad and lonely -though so many in it dwell -who can number all its people -who, ah! who can ever tell - -still and peaceful is their resting -in their last and humble bed -tread ye lightly, ’tis the kingdom -of the sacred holy dead - - -hear ye not the howling wind -sad and wild -in its wake come dismal fancies -never mild - -like the moaning of the lost -comes the wind -moaning, sighing--viewless phantoms -come behind - -in the darkness come the spirits -of the night -howling, with their dismal groaning -in their flight - -absent friends come in our fancies -evermore -as the demons flee from hades -rush and roar - -hear ye not the moaning wind -moan and quiver -like the moaning of the lost -lost forever - - - -over hill and over valley -over meadows rich and green -playing with the summer grasses -fairer sights were never seen - -not a mortal ever saw me -though i see them ev’ry day -passing like a viewless spirit -on my happy singing way - -often do i rise up skyward -chasing fast the cloudlets there -and i drive them headlong onward -till they all in fragments tear - -often on the field of battle -’mid the storm that works them woe -do i cheer ’mid cannon’s rattle -kissing both the friend and foe - -and the wounded, as he listens -to me as i whistle on -thinks of home and friends and parents -and of days that now have gone - -i often whistle through the woods -and toss the hunter’s hair -he sits him down upon a log -while i caress him there - -his brow with sweat is covered o’er -he feels my cooling sway -i toss about his silver locks -that deck his head of gray - -but on i go until i find -the farmer in his field -i whistle o’er his garnered store -the willing land doth yield - -he hails me as his merry friend -and thus i am to him -i never pass without i cheer -his features calm and grim - -i cheer the poet as he sings -beside some flowing stream -and looks upon the dim, dim past -a vision or a dream - - -he hails me, as i sail along -in accents clear and free -i answer in an unknown tongue -and pass on cheerily - -he knows me well, and loves me too -he watches till i find -his resting place where he may leave -all earthly cares behind - -i visit oft where lovers sit -i hear their vows of love -the bright green grass is all below -the sky of blue above - -and there they sit and talk of love -as only lovers know -they think the world a paradise -and all things bright below - - -i visit oft the city’s haunts -i raise the dust on high -and whirl it like a water-wheel -as ever on i fly - -i play with wigs and hats and cloaks -and whistle by the house -then to a gentle zephyr turn -as quiet as a mouse - -then breaking in an angry fit -i whistle by the bell -that hangs within the steeple tall -and sound a faint, low knell - -by ruins old i make my way -i tear the ivy vines -and fill with dust and sand and dirt -the ancient sculptured lines - - -i ramble on the deep, dark sea -and toss those waves of blue -i scare the boasting mariner -and tear the sails in two - -the clouds that hang far overhead -are dropping to the sea -the waves as mountains now become -i roar out in my glee - -the captain stands with face aghast -with terror in his eyes -the fork-ed lightning strikes its wings -that waft it from the skies - -the thunder stops, the clouds pass by -the waves are resting now -the gallant ship before my breath -with magic speed doth plow - - -ye frightened goodly mariners -that angels were before -the storm has quit, you curse again -you’re sinners wild once more - -and when the next storm rocks the ship -and the thunders roll and roar -you drop upon your knees again -art sainted then once more - -i cross the sea, and soon i find -europa’s golden coast -the spanish pride;--the english tar -makes well his frequent boast - - -i love the clime of africa -the dark man’s native home -i love that central, torrid zone -wherever i may roam - -i also love the northern pole -auroras glisten there -i love the regions still and cold -the icebergs standing bare - -the water trickling down their sides -i waft them towards the south -the walrus suns him as we go -and opes his giant mouth - -i love to sway the trees in spring -when all in green they stand -in winter do i move their boughs -while roaming o’er the land - -sometimes i frolic round about -between the earth and sky -and it is true where’er i go - -i love to whirl the storm around -and roar out ev’rywhere -and superstitious people, too -i often sadly scare - -i’ve seen fair eden’s leafy trees -i’ve seen the first of man -and i shall see the last of him -i saw how he began - - -i saw the star of bethlehem -i heard the angels sing -i saw the manger and the christ -the great and goodly king - -i saw the cæsar in his rome -who raised her towers on high -she raised those towers aloof from earth -she rose, and but to die - -then passing in the flight of years -i saw napoleon’s day -i saw the time when he did rise -and when he fell away - -i saw the hero, washington -who for his country fought -“i’ll free my country from her bonds,” -that was his only thought - -i’ve known more things than history -and if i brought to light -these things ’twould make the stoutest heart -to start aback with fright - -i’ve witnessed murders never seen -by any human eye -i’ve seen the very best of men -by violence to die - -i’ve touched the knife that did the deed -i’ve kissed the brow in vain -no sign of life upon the face -so dark and black with pain - - -i know of secrets never known -to any one but me -i’ve seen when death had come at last -and set the captive free - -then listen as i pass along -for aye and evermore -i sing my only song to you -as i pass by your door - - -often have i sung this story -when at midnight’s solemn reign -like a ghost or howling demon -will i sing it oft again - -i have lived through all the ages -and will live for many more -blowing by the stormy ocean -on the sea and on the shore - -on the shore or on the ocean -ne’er deserting, always constant -as my zephyrs gently fly - -you will find me in the future -just as i have always been -free from all unjust transgressions -free from any kind of sin - -often do i waft the odors -from the fields of clover sweet -when with breath of sweetest perfume -do i all the woodlands greet - - -so good-bye; i must be speeding -stirring up the autumn leaves -i must visit now the farmer -as he binds his golden sheaves - -i must visit now the smithy -and his anvil ringing clear -even now his clanking irons -do i faintly seem to hear - -now, adieu; i must be speeding -where the wild wings swiftly fly -and the clouds go by me floating -so i bid you all “good-bye.” - - -oh, bright the day when england’s crown -came forth to crown the king -and in the minds of those around -it seemed no trifling thing - -“give back the crown!” was william’s word -“or my good sword shall pay -with heavy thrust and bleeding cut -for this you’ve done to-day.” - -for edward’s will that crown had sent -to grace stern william’s head -but harold too had claimed the right -and for that right he bled - -aye! bled, and died, and lost the crown -he’d struggled so to save -and ah! that struggle led him to -his solitary grave - -yes! godwin’s son was born to fight -to chase and not to fly -and he was born for hasting’s fate -and that fate was to die - -ah! weep ye noble saxon men -the last king of your line -shall sleep the cold, still sleep of death -that solemn sleep divine - -to-day we merry are and joy -doth reign supreme around -and music seems in every noise -and ev’ry passing sound - -to-morrow comes--that joy is gone -there lies the human clay -the spirit to its rest has gone -where brighter shines the day - -we know not when that bidding comes -that bears us from the earth -how few the years that stand between -our death-call and our birth - -thus was’t with harold--in the night -carousing in the tent -his joy was great, but ’morrows light -his knee in suppliance bent - -the cup went round,--and small thought they -upon the next day’s fight -that harold soon in death should lie -within the waning light - -in william’s camp no cup went round -but heads were bent in prayer -and plans were laid; then silence kept -its peaceful reigning there - -oh! solemn was the prayer they said -and solemn was the scene -the archers with their bows stood by -with grave and silent mien - -the morning came,--the proud array -stood silent as the dead -the battle-axes in their hands -did rise far overhead - -and in the midst, his armor bright -stood harold with his sword -and far and near around stood those -who waited at his word - -the banner rose above them all -its warrior stood on high -and precious stones did mark him there -that scarcely wealth could buy - -duke william led his heroes forth -and gave them to the fray -ah, many of those heroes there -ne’er saw another day - -the battle raged, and sunset came -and flashed on armor bright -and all around were mangled men -it was an awful sight - -king harold fell, the arrow pierced -and bore him to the ground -ah! then was heard a trampling noise -a wildly flying sound - -the warrior and the banner fell -and dyed were they in blood -no more the saxon’s sang their shout -“god’s rood! aye, holy rood!” - - -drifting down the tide we go -nay! we hoist the sail -speeding fast and faster still -with the blowing gale - -come sign the pledge and get on board -and leave behind your woe -for the sky is bright, and the gale is right -as like the wind we go - -we sail between the shores of green -on the waters shining breast -oh! sign the pledge and the ribbon don -and forever you’ll find rest - -sweet rest upon our temperance ship -and leave behind your woe -for the sky is bright and the gale is right -as like the wind we go - - -there is a hall of memory -within a happy land -the walls are high and marble clear -with wealth on every hand - -the railings on the stairway -are made of purest gold -the marble steps below them -are hard and stern and cold - -i love the hall of memory -i love to linger there -sweet visions coming evermore -its pictures bright and fair - -its walls are decked with pictures -made by a masters hand -the marble figures far and near -alive they seem to stand - -but there is one fair picture -i love to gaze upon -it is the picture of a time -that is forever gone - -there is a hall of memory -its walls are stern and high -the treasures it contains for me -no wealth can ever buy - - -the cold moon-light is shining clear -the tall trees shadows throw -and all is spectral far and near -as far as eye can go - -a peaceful calm rests o’er the scene -the clouds no longer fly -the busy world is hushed and still -its cares have passed us by - -but when to-morrow’s light has come -then comes the care and pain -the strife and warfare of our lives -is rushing on again - -but still the white clouds fleck the sky -and peace is reigning on -but soon the beauty of the night -will fade and fast be gone - - -far in the west is the sunset land -where flows a mighty river -it flows right o’er the crimson clouds -and it follows the sun forever - -the stars come chasing through the sky -they chase and they twinkle and play -and they love the clouds of the sunset land -that soon will be far away - -and the twilight jealous and sombre and sad -comes down with his robes of gray -and he chases the light of the sunset land -far from the west away - - -when the weary day at last -with its cares and strife is past - -when i lay me down to sleep -while the angels vigils keep - -comes an echo far away -of the doings of the day - -ere my weary eyelids close -ere my being seeks repose - -comes a voice from far away -“what hast thou performed this day?” - -yes the air is full of spirits -many does each man inherit - -but at night each one will say -“what hast thou performed this day?” - -ere my weary eyelids close -ere i calmly seek repose - -comes an echo far away -“what hast thou performed this day?” - - -the seagull screamed and flopped his wings -and hied him to his home -the breakers dashed upon the shore -their crests were filled with foam - -the briny mounts were thrown on high -where reeled a ship; the gale -had shorn her of her masts, and torn -in shreds each flying sail - -alas! a wail comes o’er the deep -the ship is sinking fast -the mighty mountains of the sea -are aided by the blast - -’tis morn again, the rosy morn -the storm at sea is o’er -the elements are calm and still -the wreck is on the shore - -then take good care in future life -while near the billows roll -take care lest your own self be lost -by shipwreck of your soul - -then never let the breakers roll -to whelm the bark within -as in the world you sail around -the blackened sea of sin - - -it was in africa’s torrid clime -two sisters stood alone -and what they witnessed was a sight -to melt a heart of stone - -the english came and carried off -one sister, far away -and now in london’s haunts she stands -and sorrows all the day - -they took her from her native spot -where she was wont to stand -and placed her in a foreign clime -within a foreign land - -ah! how she feels, with other eyes -than on bright egypt’s shore -she stands where she had never been -to stand for evermore - -the others came with iron bonds -her sister, too, they brought -to grace america’s bright parks -where pity ne’er was thought - -ah! yes, in new york city’s haunts -that sister is to be -between the two the waters lie -a dark and stormy sea - -ah! now when i to egypt’s plains -do wend my careful way -i’ll seek the spot where once they stood -and there respect i’ll pay - -but, oh, the beauties will be gone -the sisters are not there -insulted by a grosser race -they stand where naught is fair - - - - - - -the snow is lying deep upon the ground -and naught disturbs the quiet, bitter air -except the distant jingling sleigh bells sound -which seems to banish from my heart all care -the trees are barren of their waving leaves -the limbs are swaying sadly to and fro -it seems as though it for its verdure grieves -as down it shakes the flakes of shining snow -oh, thou to me forever art a friend -i would that you were for the whole year round -and he on high those blessings by you send -that always in your bounteous lap are found -and you and i would be as angels here -and sorrow never know nor ever shed a tear - - -thou dancing sunbeams through the happy day -dost cheer me on my onward path through life -you show to me more clear my stumbling way -and lighter make my almost ceaseless strife -thou art to me a greater friend indeed -than others i have loved up to this hour -they are oft but a wildly growing weed -but thou art like a shining summer flow’r -the world could not exist if not for thee -the ice-king would possession then obtain -the light and beauty from all things would flee -and naught but lasting, dark’ning chaos reighn -but now we have the cheerful, glittering light -that keeps the universe alive and bright - - - - -let us now improve the present -waiting not for something more -for the past is gone forever -and its troubles all are o’er - -let us hope not in the future -golden days will be at hand -try, keep trying, for that country -in a fairer, better land - -up, be doing in the present -waiting not for something more -for the past is gone forever -and its troubles all are o’er - -those who wait are ne’er receiving -those who act are always blest -up, be doing, still be acting -this is not a time for rest - -let us now improve the present -waiting not for something more -for the past is gone forever -and its troubles all are o’er - - -little ada now has gone -to that land above -where no trouble ever comes -all is brightness, all is love - -now an angel far away -in that land of light -cheer up, oh, afflicted ones -she is gone where all is bright - -father, cheer the grieving parents -help them now to bear the woe -pity us, thy simple children -in this land so far below - -angels carried her to heaven -clothed her in their robes of light -she is gone, but not forever -from the loving parents’ sight - -little ada now has gone -to that land above -where no trouble ever comes -all is brightness, all is love - - -on the summit of a mountain -stood i in the twilight gray -there were many standing with me -in the closing light of day - -two paths led out from the summit -one to lands so clear and bright -and the other to a dark land -where reigned eternal night - -many chose the road to darkness -pathway leading down to hell -few there were that took the other -they that chose it, chose it well - -’twas a dream i dreamed in slumber -but ’tis real every day -many take the downward path -few that go the brighter way - - -an old man entered a dram-shop -he staggerd and stumbled in -his face was as hard as granite -his hair was light and thin - -the bar-keeper’s daughter entered -in a dress of purest white -and she looked as sweet as could be -in her nice new clothes that night - -the old man stopped, and reasoned -for his own dear child he knew -was shoeless and cold and ragged -and his wife was starving, too - -so the dime that lay in his pocket -bought bread for his wife that night -and the old bar-keeper’s daughter -still dressed in her snowy white - -but soon ere the winter was over -the drunkard was drunkard no more -and the wife and child were happy -as they never had been before - - -oh, fresh from the woodland comes the breath -the breath of the beautiful spring -and the gentle zephyrs that float about -scents from the meadow and forest bring -and in every tree -a robin in glee -is chanting a joyous melody - -oh the sweet calm breath of beautiful spring -and the azure sky is bright above -and the warm sunshine makes the whole world glad -for every beam is a message of love -and in every tree -the robin in glee -is chanting a joyous melody - -the warm sun shines and the sweet flowers bloom -but ah, the wild winds will be raving amain -and the cold gray winter will ravish our joys -the beauties of earth will be vanished again -from every tree -the robin will flee -and fly to the south with his melody - -but let us enjoy these transient delights -and gaze on their beauty while linger they here -let us thank our dear father such grandeur may come -while spring claims her place in every year -and in every tree -a robin will be -chanting a beautiful melody - - -through the din of patt’ring rain drops -comes the thunder in the night -while the bold electric flashes -dazzle for a while the sight - -patter, patter come the rain-drops -streaming down the window-pane -on the roof, unceasing, patter -noisy little drops of rain - -all the stars have left and hidden -and the cresent is no more -when will come the day and sunshine -as it came in days of yore - -but the patter of the rain-drops -music to my thoughts they make -when the rumbling peals of thunder -rhyme and even rhythm break - -may we thankful be for sunshine -may we thankful be for rain -come again, oh patt’ring rain-drops -with your music come again - - - - - - - - -on solferino’s dizzy heights there grew -the bright green grass and here and there were seen -the golden hues of flow’rets shining fair -the bright, warm sunshine sparkled on the world -and all the cloudlets of the azure sky -dark shadows threw upon the happy scene - - -but on the crest of that tall cliff there frowned -the battered walls the battlements and tow’rs -and in the castle solferino’s prince -walked to and fro and ’round him stood his men -and ere the heart had time to falter once -was heard the deafening rolling cannon’s roar - - -“the foe has come!” they flew to arms, and ere -the echoes quite had died away, they gave -forth shot for shot and shout for shout -then was thy life-blood spilt! that day -was one of woe to thee sardinia -those lives have left forevermore this earth - - -then came the awful ravage of the fray -the cannon’s roar, the dying’s groan, the sounds of war -and ev’rywhere was blood--the verdure was -beneath the hard foot trampled and the day -turned dark beneath the reign of chaos wild - - -the mincio’s waters drifted toward the sea -but ever on its bosom wild was borne -the life-blood of the soldier’s in the fray -ah! red as blood its once clear waters were -and on its banks the same dread curse prevailed - - -thus man shall slay and man shall die until -the time when his wild fury thus unchecked -shall spend itself and once relapse away -oh! may man’s conscience soon awake to learn -the wild disaster that his fury wrought - - - -the cold gray mist crept o’er the shore -and hung about the bay -we saw the foaming of the surf -within the twilight gray - -but through the twilight cold and still -we heard the hum from yonder town -we saw the path around the hill -come winding ever slowly down - -the wild wind rose as night came on -we heard the waves beat on the shore -the tempest wailed and moaned about -above the distant roar - -sad night, alas! was that to some -who, on the dreary ocean wide -heard far and near the tempest come -the wailing winds on either side - -a dreadful night--a stormy night -it swept the wrecks ashore -it was a time--a dreadful sight -forgotten nevermore - -that night was one of woe, alas -the wild wind whistled by -and seemed to be as it did pass -some struggling sailor’s drowning cry - - -far in the west is a peaceful land -where the golden sunset fades away -and fast as the twilight shadows come -the sunset bids farewell to day - -the snow white vapor in fragments flies -and the gold-edged clouds near the sunset move -but the twilight, dim and dark and gray -steals fast from sight this land of love - -the zephyrs stir and the soft leaves wave -and sigh for the loss of the sunset sky -but even the beauties that shine in the west -must ever fade till the glories die - - -in the distance dim a valley lies -where flows a deep dark river -on the farther shore a city stands -where the tide flows on forever - -a cloud hangs o’er the city fair -by day in the valley yonder -by night in the streets, devoid of light -wild phantoms ever wander - -no sound comes forth from the vacant domes -that gleam in the quiet air -no living thing breaks the solitude -but the phantoms wander there - -in the distance dim a valley lies -where flows a rolling river -but the phantoms wander by its side -as time flies by forever - - -when the sunset in the west -gilds the landscape far and near -wraps the sun within his shroud -dies he on a glorious bier - -when the night falls o’er the land -comes the cresent from the sky -silence reigns upon the scene -as the brooklet hurries by - -when the starlight cold and still -falls upon the earth below -falls upon the church-yard hill -by the saddened brooklets flow - -slower come the drifting waters -ceasing once their noisy glee -as it passes by it sings on -in a plaintive melody - -ghostly rise the marble spectres -o’er the beds of those who sleep -ever in the night or day time -still their solemn vigils keep - -when the sunrise in the east -gilds the sky with flames of light -runs the brooklet fast to meet -with its waters ever bright - -onward to the flowing river -and its waters mingle there -oh! when shall they return agan -to the brooklet shining fair - - -when the christ was born on earth -then wise men the star did guide -till with riches they appeared -by the great messiah’s side - -and the angels ever echoed -songs of happiness again -and a voice from heaven answered - -still the star whirled in its orbit -round the sun of heat and light -saw the earth in years advancing -watched her in her rapid flight - -when we slumber peacefully -when we think not what is near -still the star’s light shineth ever -all its beams are bright and clear - -thus forever, yet unceasing -still it shineth as of yore -and shall be a guide and helper -through the ages evermore - - -this volume out of respect to a little girl of six years who used to -love to recite it to me. she knew many poems, but this was her -favourite - -i shot an arrow into the air -it fell to earth, i knew not where -for, so swiftly it flew, the sight -could not follow it in its flight - -i breathed a song into the air -it fell to earth, i knew not where -for who has sight so keen and strong -that it can follow the flight of song - -long, long afterward, in an oak -i found the arrow, still unbroke -and the song, from beginning to end -i found again in the heart of a friend - - - -i found "the babie" in stedman's "anthology." it is placed in this -volume by permission of the poet, jeremiah eames rankin, of cleveland -fancy was greatly moved by the two beautiful lines - -i'm glad she has no wings - -nae shoon to hide her tiny taes -nae stockin' on her feet -her supple ankles white as snaw -or early blossoms sweet - -her simple dress o' sprinkled pink -her double, dimplit chin -her puckered lips, and baumy mou -with na ane tooth within - -her een sae like her mither's een -twa gentle, liquid things -her face is like an angel's face -we're glad she has nae wings - - - -that the world cannot outgrow. once in the mind, they fasten. they were -not born to die - -let dogs delight to bark and bite -for god hath made them so -let bears and lions growl and fight -for 'tis their nature too - -but, children, you should never let -such angry passions rise -your little hands were never made -to tear each other's eyes - - - -little drops of water -little grains of sand -make the mighty ocean -and the pleasant land - -thus the little minutes -humble though they be -make the mighty ages -of eternity - - - -these two stanzas, the very heart of that great poem, "the ancient -mariner," by samuel taylor coleridge (1772-1834), sum up the lesson of -this masterpiece--"insensibility is a crime - -farewell, farewell! but this i tell -to thee, thou wedding-guest -he prayeth well who loveth well -both man and bird and beast - -he prayeth best who loveth best -all things, both great and small -for the dear god who loveth us -he made and loveth all - - - -twinkle, twinkle, little star -how i wonder what you are -up above the world so high -like a diamond in the sky - -when the glorious sun is set -when the grass with dew is wet -then you show your little light -twinkle, twinkle all the night - -in the dark-blue sky you keep -and often through my curtains peep -for you never shut your eye -till the sun is in the sky - -as your bright and tiny spark -guides the traveller in the dark -though i know not what you are -twinkle, twinkle, little star - - -right with the world" is a cheerful motto for the nursery and -schoolroom - -the year's at the spring -the day's at the morn -morning's at seven -the hillside's dew pearled - -the lark's on the wing -the snail's on the thorn -god's in his heaven -all's right with the world - - - -through life. it is anonymous - -thirty days hath september -april, june, and november -february has twenty-eight alone -all the rest have thirty-one -excepting leap-year--that's the time -when february's days are twenty-nine - - - - -there was never a queen like balkis -from here to the wide world's end -but balkis talked to a butterfly -as you would talk to a friend - -there was never a king like solomon -not since the world began -but solomon talked to a butterfly -as a man would talk to a man - -and _he_ was asia's lord -but they both of 'em talked to butterflies -when they took their walks abroad - - - - -pussy can sit by the fire and sing -pussy can climb a tree -or play with a silly old cork and string -to 'muse herself, not me -but i like binkie, my dog, because -he knows how to behave -so, binkie's the same as the first friend was -and i am the man in the cave - -pussy will play man-friday till -it's time to wet her paw -and make her walk on the window-sill -then she fluffles her tail and mews -and scratches and won't attend -but binkie will play whatever i choose -and he is my true first friend - -pussy will rub my knees with her head -pretending she loves me hard -but the very minute i go to my bed -pussy runs out in the yard - -and there she stays till the morning light -so i know it is only pretend -but binkie, he snores at my feet all night -and he is my firstest friend - - - - -popular short poems extant. i have taught it to a great many very young -boys, and not one has ever tried to evade learning it. older pupils -like it equally well - -i have a little shadow that goes in and out with me -and what can be the use of him is more than i can see -he is very, very like me from the heels up to the head -and i see him jump before me, when i jump into my bed - -the funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow -not at all like proper children, which is always very slow -for he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball -and he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all - -he hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play -and can only make a fool of me in every sort of way -he stays so close beside me, he's a coward, you can see -i'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me - -one morning, very early, before the sun was up -i rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup -but my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head -had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed - - - -this poem (george macdonald, 1828-) finds a place in this volume -because, as a child, i loved it. it completely filled my heart, and has -made every member of the lily family dear to me. george macdonald's -charming book, "at the back of the north wind," also was my wonder and -delight - -little white lily -sat by a stone -drooping and waiting -till the sun shone -little white lily -sunshine has fed -little white lily -is lifting her head - -little white lily -said: "it is good -little white lily's -clothing and food -little white lily -dressed like a bride -shining with whiteness -and crownèd beside - -little white lily -drooping with pain -waiting and waiting -for the wet rain -little white lily -holdeth her cup -rain is fast falling -and filling it up - -little white lily -said: "good again -when i am thirsty -to have the nice rain -now i am stronger -now i am cool -heat cannot burn me -my veins are so full - -little white lily -smells very sweet -on her head sunshine -rain at her feet -thanks to the sunshine -thanks to the rain -little white lily -is happy again - - - -children because it helps to reconcile them to going to bed. "i go to -bed by day" is one of the crosses of childhood - -the great tree to his children said -yes, very sleepy, little red -it is quite time to go to bed - -dear father tree, behold our grief -we do not want to go away - -so, for just one more merry day -to the great tree the leaflets clung -frolicked and danced, and had their way -upon the autumn breezes swung -whispering all their sports among - -and let us stay until the spring -if we all beg, and coax, and fret -but the great tree did no such thing -he smiled to hear their whispering - -and ere the leaves could urge their prayer -he shook his head, and far and wide -fluttering and rustling everywhere -down sped the leaflets through the air - -i saw them; on the ground they lay -golden and red, a huddled swarm -waiting till one from far away -white bedclothes heaped upon her arm -should come to wrap them safe and warm - -the great bare tree looked down and smiled -and from below each sleepy child -replied, "good-night," and murmured - - - -volume out of respect to an eight-year-old child who chose it from -among hundreds. we had one poetry hour every week, and he studied and -recited it with unabated interest to the end of the year - -wee willie winkie rins through the town -up-stairs and doon-stairs, in his nicht-gown -tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock - -hey, willie winkie! are ye comin' ben -the cat's singin' gay thrums to the sleepin' hen -the doug's speldered on the floor, and disna gie a cheep -but here's a waukrife laddie that winna fa' asleep - -onything but sleep, ye rogue! glow'rin' like the moon -rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon -rumblin' tumblin' roun' about, crowin' like a cock -skirlin' like a kenna-what--wauknin' sleepin' folk - -hey, willie winkie! the wean's in a creel -waumblin' aff a body's knee like a vera eel -ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravellin' a' her thrums -hey, willie winkie!--see, there he comes - -wearie is the mither that has a storie wean -a wee stumpie stoussie that canna rin his lane -that has a battle aye wi' sleep before he'll close an ee -but a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me - - - -because i once found that a timid child was much strengthened and -developed by learning it. it is a song that appeals to the imagination -of children, and they like to sing it - -the owl and the pussy-cat went to sea -in a beautiful pea-green boat -they took some honey, and plenty of money -wrapped up in a five-pound note -the owl looked up to the moon above -and sang to a small guitar -what a beautiful pussy you are -you are -what a beautiful pussy you are - -pussy said to the owl, "you elegant fowl -how wonderful sweet you sing -oh, let us be married,--too long we have tarried -but what shall we do for a ring -they sailed away for a year and a day -to the land where the bong-tree grows -and there in a wood a piggy-wig stood -with a ring in the end of his nose -his nose -with a ring in the end of his nose - -your ring?" said the piggy, "i will -so they took it away, and were married next day -by the turkey who lives on the hill -they dined upon mince and slices of quince -which they ate with a runcible spoon -and hand in hand on the edge of the sand -they danced by the light of the moon -the moon -they danced by the light of the moon - - - -children, who are all by nature sailors and adventurers - -wynken, blynken, and nod one night -sailed off in a wooden shoe -sailed on a river of crystal light -into a sea of dew -the old moon asked the three -that live in this beautiful sea -nets of silver and gold have we -said wynken -blynken -and nod - -the old moon laughed and sang a song -as they rocked in the wooden shoe -and the wind that sped them all night long -ruffled the waves of dew -the little stars were the herring-fish -that lived in the beautiful sea -never afeard are we -so cried the stars to the fishermen three -wynken -blynken -and nod - -all night long their nets they threw -to the stars in the twinkling foam -then down from the skies came the wooden shoe -bringing the fishermen home -as if it could not be -and some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed -of sailing that beautiful sea -but i shall name you the fishermen three -wynken -blynken -and nod - -wynken and blynken are two little eyes -and nod is a little head -and the wooden shoe that sailed the skies -is a wee one's trundle-bed -so shut your eyes while mother sings -of wonderful sights that be -and you shall see the beautiful things -as you rock on the misty sea -where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three -wynken -blynken -and nod - - - -humorous poem that has come under my notice. in making such a -collection as this it is not easy to find poems at once delicate -witty, and graphic. i have taught "the duel" hundreds of times, and -children invariably love it - -the gingham dog and the calico cat -side by side on the table sat -nor one nor t'other had slept a wink -the old dutch clock and the chinese plate -appeared to know as sure as fate -there was going to be a terrible spat -what was told to me by the chinese plate - -the gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow -and the calico cat replied "mee-ow -the air was littered, an hour or so -with bits of gingham and calico -while the old dutch clock in the chimney-place -up with its hands before its face -for it always dreaded a family row -what the old dutch clock declares is true - -the chinese plate looked very blue -and wailed, "oh, dear! what shall we do -but the gingham dog and the calico cat -wallowed this way and tumbled that -employing every tooth and claw -in the awfullest way you ever saw -and, oh! how the gingham and calico flew -i got my views from the chinese plate - -next morning where the two had sat -they found no trace of the dog or cat -and some folks think unto this day -that burglars stole the pair away -but the truth about the cat and the pup -is this: they ate each other up -now what do you really think of that -and that is how i came to know - - - -disturb the street," by isaac watts (1674-1748), are real gems. a few -years ago they were more in favour than the poorer verse that has been -put forward. but they are sure to be revived - -once there was a little boy -with curly hair and pleasant eye -a boy who always told the truth -and never, never told a lie - -and when he trotted off to school -the children all about would cry -the boy that never tells a lie - -and everybody loved him so -because he always told the truth -that every day, as he grew up - -and when the people that stood near -would turn to ask the reason why -the answer would be always this - - -whatever brawls disturb the street -there should be peace at home -where sisters dwell and brothers meet -quarrels should never come - -birds in their little nests agree -and 'tis a shameful sight -when children of one family -fall out and chide and fight - - - -oh where! and oh where! is your highland laddie gone -he's gone to fight the french for king george upon the throne -and it's oh! in my heart how i wish him safe at home - -oh where! and oh where! does your highland laddie dwell -he dwells in merry scotland at the sign of the bluebell -and it's oh! in my heart that i love my laddie well - - - -if i had but two little wings -and were a little feathery bird -to you i'd fly, my dear -but thoughts like these are idle things -and i stay here - -but in my sleep to you i fly -i'm always with you in my sleep -the world is all one's own -all, all alone - - - -to be good - -my fairest child, i have no song to give you -no lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray -yet, ere we part, one lesson i can leave you -for every day - -be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever -do noble things, not dream them all day long -and so make life, death, and that vast forever -one grand, sweet song - - - -faithful heart, an example of unreasoning obedience. it is right that a -child should obey even to the death the commands of a loving parent - -the boy stood on the burning deck -whence all but him had fled -the flame that lit the battle's wreck -shone round him o'er the dead - -yet beautiful and bright he stood -as born to rule the storm -a creature of heroic blood -a proud though childlike form - -the flames rolled on--he would not go -without his father's word -that father, faint in death below -his voice no longer heard - -he called aloud, "say, father, say -if yet my task is done -he knew not that the chieftain lay -unconscious of his son - -and but the booming shots replied -and fast the flames rolled on - -upon his brow he felt their breath -and in his waving hair -and looked from that lone post of death -in still, yet brave despair - -and shouted but once more aloud -while o'er him fast, through sail and shroud -the wreathing fires made way - -they wrapt the ship in splendour wild -they caught the flag on high -and streamed above the gallant child -like banners in the sky - -then came a burst of thunder sound -the boy--oh! where was he -with fragments strew the sea - -with mast, and helm, and pennon fair -that well had borne their part -but the noblest thing that perished there -was that young, faithful heart - - - -with every young audience. it is pointed to an end that children -love--viz., trust in a higher power - -we were crowded in the cabin -not a soul would dare to sleep -it was midnight on the waters -and a storm was on the deep - -to be shattered by the blast -and to hear the rattling trumpet -thunder, "cut away the mast - -so we shuddered there in silence -for the stoutest held his breath -while the hungry sea was roaring -and the breakers talked with death - -as thus we sat in darkness -each one busy with his prayers -as he staggered down the stairs - -but his little daughter whispered -as she took his icy hand -just the same as on the land - -then we kissed the little maiden -and we spoke in better cheer -and we anchored safe in harbour -when the morn was shining clear - - -time when the chestnut-tree that shaded it was cut down, and then the -children of the place put their pence together and had a chair made for -the poet from its wood - - -longfellow (1807-82) is truly the children's poet. his poems are as -simple, pathetic, artistic, and philosophical as if they were intended -to tell the plain everyday story of life to older people. "the village -blacksmith" has been learned by thousands of children, and there is no -criticism to be put upon it. the age of the child has nothing whatever -to do with his learning it. age does not grade children nor is poetry -wholly to be so graded. "time is the false reply - -under a spreading chestnut-tree -the village smithy stands -the smith, a mighty man is he -with large and sinewy hands -and the muscles of his brawny arms -are strong as iron bands - -his hair is crisp, and black, and long -his face is like the tan -his brow is wet with honest sweat -he earns whate'er he can -and looks the whole world in the face -for he owes not any man - -week in, week out, from morn till night -you can hear his bellows blow -you can hear him swing his heavy sledge -with measured beat and slow -like a sexton ringing the village bell -when the evening sun is low - -and children coming home from school -look in at the open door -they love to see the flaming forge -and hear the bellows roar -and catch the burning sparks that fly -like chaff from a threshing-floor - -he goes on sunday to the church -and sits among his boys -he hears the parson pray and preach -he hears his daughter's voice -singing in the village choir -and it makes his heart rejoice - -it sounds to him like her mother's voice -singing in paradise -he needs must think of her once more -how in the grave she lies -and with his hard, rough hand he wipes -a tear out of his eyes - -toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing -onward through life he goes -each morning sees some task begin -each evening sees it close -something attempted, something done -has earned a night's repose - -thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend -for the lesson thou hast taught -thus at the flaming forge of life -our fortunes must be wrought -thus on its sounding anvil shaped -each burning deed and thought - - - -sweet and low, sweet and low -wind of the western sea -low, low, breathe and blow -wind of the western sea -over the rolling waters go -come from the dropping moon and blow -blow him again to me -while my little one, while my pretty one sleeps - -sleep and rest, sleep and rest -father will come to thee soon -rest, rest, on mother's breast -father will come to thee soon -father will come to his babe in the nest -silver sails all out of the west -under the silver moon -sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep - - - -old-fashioned poems, pure poetry and pure violet. it is included in -this volume out of respect to my own love for it when i was a child - -down in a green and shady bed -a modest violet grew -its stalk was bent, it hung its head -as if to hide from view - -and yet it was a lovely flower -no colours bright and fair -it might have graced a rosy bower -instead of hiding there - -yet there it was content to bloom -in modest tints arrayed -and there diffused its sweet perfume -within the silent shade - -then let me to the valley go -this pretty flower to see -that i may also learn to grow -in sweet humility - - - - -child's feelings. it voices the spirit of all ages that would love to -imagine it "a bridge to heaven - -my heart leaps up when i behold -a rainbow in the sky -so was it when my life began -so is it now i am a man -so be it when i shall grow old -or let me die -the child is father of the man -and i could wish my days to be -bound each to each by natural piety - - - -most popular christmas poem ever written. it carries santa claus on -from year to year and the spirit of santa claus - -not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse -the stockings were hung by the chimney with care -in hopes that st. nicholas soon would be there -the children were nestled all snug in their beds -while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads -and mamma in her 'kerchief, and i in my cap -had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap -when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter -i sprang from the bed to see what was the matter -away to the window i flew like a flash -tore open the shutters and threw up the sash -the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow -gave the luster of mid-day to objects below -when, what to my wondering eyes should appear -but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer -with a little old driver, so lively and quick -i knew in a moment it must be st. nick -more rapid than eagles his coursers they came -and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name -on, _comet_! on, _cupid_! on, _donder_ and _blitzen -to the top of the porch! to the top of the wall -now dash away! dash away! dash away all -as dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly -when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky -so up to the house-top the coursers they flew -with the sleigh full of toys, and st. nicholas, too -and then, in a twinkling, i heard on the roof -the prancing and pawing of each little hoof -as i drew in my head, and was turning around -down the chimney st. nicholas came with a bound -he was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot -and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot -a bundle of toys he had flung on his back -and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack -his eyes--how they twinkled! his dimples how merry -his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry -his droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow -and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow -the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth -and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath -he had a broad face and a little round belly -that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly -he was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf -and i laughed when i saw him, in spite of myself -a wink of his eye and a twist of his head -soon gave me to know i had nothing to dread -he spoke not a word, but went straight to his work -and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk -and laying his finger aside of his nose -and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose -he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle -and away they all flew like the down on a thistle -but i heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight - - - -o! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light -what so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming -whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight -o'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming -and the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air -gave proof through the night that our flag was still there -o! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave -o'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave - -on that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep -where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes -what is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep -as it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses -now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam -in full glory reflected now shines on the stream -o'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave - -and where is that band who so vauntingly swore -that the havoc of war and the battle's confusion -a home and a country should leave us no more -their blood has washed out their foul footsteps, pollution -no refuge could save the hireling and slave -from the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave -and the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave -o'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave - -o! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand -between their loved homes and the war's desolation -blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land -praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation -then conquer we must, for our cause it is just -and this be our motto--"_in god is our trust -and the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave -o'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave - - - -than the original. harmless fun brightens the world. it takes a real -genius to create wit that carries no sting - -and yet you incessantly stand on your head -do you think, at your age, it is right - -but now that i'm perfectly sure i have none -why, i do it again and again - -and have grown most uncommonly fat -yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door -pray, what is the reason of that - -by the use of this ointment--one shilling the box -allow me to sell you a couple - -for anything tougher than suet -yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -pray, how did you manage to do it - -and argued each case with my wife -and the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw -has lasted the rest of my life - -that your eye was as steady as ever -yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -what made you so awfully clever - -said his father, "don't give yourself airs -do you think i can listen all day to such stuff -be off, or i'll kick you down-stairs - - - - -teacher of good taste, and i include it at her request - -a nightingale, that all day long -had cheered the village with his song -nor yet at eve his note suspended -nor yet when eventide was ended -began to feel, as well he might -the keen demands of appetite -when, looking eagerly around -he spied far off, upon the ground -a something shining in the dark -and knew the glow-worm by his spark -so, stooping down from hawthorn top -he thought to put him in his crop -the worm, aware of his intent -harangued him thus, right eloquent -you would abhor to do me wrong -as much as i to spoil your song -for 'twas the self-same power divine -taught you to sing and me to shine -that you with music, i with light -might beautify and cheer the night -the songster heard his short oration -and warbling out his approbation -released him, as my story tells -and found a supper somewhere else - - - -the little child - - - -years old, but he is the same rollicking fellow to-day as of yore. the -poem puts his merry pranks to the front and prepares the way for -science to give him a true analysis - -the frost looked forth, one still, clear night -and whispered, "now i shall be out of sight -so through the valley and over the height -in silence i'll take my way -i will not go on with that blustering train -the wind and the snow, the hail and the rain -who make so much bustle and noise in vain -but i'll be as busy as they - -then he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest -he lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed -in diamond beads--and over the breast -of the quivering lake he spread -a coat of mail, that it need not fear -the downward point of many a spear -that hung on its margin far and near -where a rock could rear its head - -he went to the windows of those who slept -and over each pane, like a fairy, crept -wherever he breathed, wherever he slept -by the light of the moon were seen -most beautiful things--there were flowers and trees -there were bevies of birds and swarms of bees -there were cities with temples and towers, and these -all pictured in silver sheen - -but he did one thing that was hardly fair -he peeped in the cupboard, and finding there -that all had forgotten for him to prepare -i'll bite this basket of fruit," said he -and the glass of water they've left for me -shall '_tchich!_' to tell them i'm drinking - - - -when cats run home and light is come -and dew is cold upon the ground -and the far-off stream is dumb -and the whirring sail goes round -and the whirring sail goes round -alone and warming his five wits -the white owl in the belfry sits - -when merry milkmaids click the latch -and rarely smells the new-mown hay -and the cock hath sung beneath the thatch -twice or thrice his roundelay -twice or thrice his roundelay -alone and warming his five wits -the white owl in the belfry sits - - - -place here because it carries a good lesson good-naturedly rendered. an -accomplished teacher recommends it, and i recollect two young children -in chicago who sang it frequently for years without getting tired of - -there were three sailors of bristol city -who took a boat and went to sea -but first with beef and captain's biscuits -and pickled pork they loaded she - -there was gorging jack and guzzling jimmy -and the youngest he was little billee -now when they got so far as the equator -they'd nothing left but one split pea - -says gorging jack to guzzling jimmy -to gorging jack says guzzling jimmy - -says gorging jack to guzzling jimmy -there's little bill, he's young and tender -we're old and tough, so let's eat he - -so undo the button of your chemie -when bill received this information -he used his pocket-handkerchie - -which my poor mammy taught to me -while jack pulled out his snickersnee - -so billy went up to the main-topgallant mast -and down he fell on his bended knee -he scarce had come to the twelfth commandment -when up he jumps, "there's land i see - -and north and south amerikee -there's the british flag a-riding at anchor - -so when they got aboard of the admiral's -he hanged fat jack and flogged jimmee -but as for little bill, he made him -the captain of a seventy-three - - - -recommended by some school-girls. it carries a lesson in favour of the -worker - -methought i heard a butterfly -say to a labouring bee -on painted wings like me - -and colours bright and rare -with mild reproof, the bee replies - -and scorning idleness -to tribes of gaudy sloth i leave -the vanity of dress - - - -included in this volume out of regard to a boy of eight years who did -not care for many poems, but this one stirred his heart to its depths - -you know, we french storm'd ratisbon -a mile or so away -on a little mound, napoleon -stood on our storming-day -with neck out-thrust, you fancy how -legs wide, arms lock'd behind -as if to balance the prone brow -oppressive with its mind - -just as perhaps he mus'd "my plans -that soar, to earth may fall -let once my army leader lannes -waver at yonder wall -out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew -a rider, bound on bound -full-galloping; nor bridle drew -until he reach'd the mound - -then off there flung in smiling joy -and held himself erect -by just his horse's mane, a boy -you hardly could suspect -scarce any blood came through -you look'd twice ere you saw his breast -was all but shot in two - -we've got you ratisbon -the marshal's in the market-place -and you'll be there anon -to see your flag-bird flap his vans -where i, to heart's desire -perched him!" the chief's eye flashed; his plans -soared up again like fire - -the chief's eye flashed; but presently -softened itself, as sheathes -a film the mother-eagle's eye -when her bruised eaglet breathes -touched to the quick, he said -smiling the boy fell dead - - - -have seen it used effectively as a memory gem in the cook county normal -school (colonel parker's school), year after year, and because my own -pupils invariably like to commit it to memory. with the child of six to -the student of twenty years it stands a source of delight - -merrily swinging on brier and weed -near to the nest of his little dame -over the mountain-side or mead -robert of lincoln is telling his name -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -snug and safe is this nest of ours -hidden among the summer flowers -chee, chee, chee - -robert of lincoln is gayly dressed -wearing a bright, black wedding-coat -white are his shoulders, and white his crest -hear him call in his merry note -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -look what a nice, new coat is mine -sure there was never a bird so fine -chee, chee, chee - -robert of lincoln's quaker wife -pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings -passing at home a patient life -broods in the grass while her husband sings -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -brood, kind creature, you need not fear -thieves and robbers while i am here -chee, chee, chee - -modest and shy as a nun is she -one weak chirp is her only note -braggart, and prince of braggarts is he -pouring boasts from his little throat -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -never was i afraid of man -catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can -chee, chee, chee - -six white eggs on a bed of hay -flecked with purple, a pretty sight -there as the mother sits all day -robert is singing with all his might -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -nice good wife that never goes out -keeping house while i frolic about -chee, chee, chee - -soon as the little ones chip the shell -six wide mouths are open for food -robert of lincoln bestirs him well -gathering seeds for the hungry brood -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -this new life is likely to be -hard for a gay young fellow like me -chee, chee, chee - -robert of lincoln at length is made -sober with work, and silent with care -off is his holiday garment laid -half forgotten that merry air -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -where our nest and our nestlings lie -chee, chee, chee - -summer wanes; the children are grown -fun and frolic no more he knows -robert of lincoln's a hum-drum drone -off he flies, and we sing as he goes -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -when you can pipe that merry old strain -robert of lincoln, come back again -chee, chee, chee - - - -course for its sparkle and glow - -old grimes is dead; that good old man -we ne'er shall see him more -he used to wear a long, black coat -all buttoned down before - -his heart was open as the day -his feelings all were true -his hair was some inclined to gray -he wore it in a queue - -he lived at peace with all mankind -in friendship he was true -his coat had pocket-holes behind -his pantaloons were blue - -he modest merit sought to find -and pay it its desert -he had no malice in his mind -no ruffles on his shirt - -his neighbours he did not abuse -was sociable and gay -he wore large buckles on his shoes -and changed them every day - -his knowledge, hid from public gaze -he did not bring to view -nor make a noise town-meeting days -as many people do - -his worldly goods he never threw -in trust to fortune's chances -but lived (as all his brothers do -in easy circumstances - -thus undisturbed by anxious cares -his peaceful moments ran -and everybody said he was -a fine old gentleman - - - -a traveller on a dusty road -strewed acorns on the lea -and one took root and sprouted up -and grew into a tree -love sought its shade at evening-time -to breathe its early vows -and age was pleased, in heights of noon -to bask beneath its boughs -the dormouse loved its dangling twigs -the birds sweet music bore -it stood a glory in its place -a blessing evermore - -a little spring had lost its way -amid the grass and fern -a passing stranger scooped a well -where weary men might turn -he walled it in, and hung with care -a ladle on the brink -he thought not of the deed he did -but judged that toil might drink -he passed again; and lo! the well -by summer never dried -had cooled ten thousand parchéd tongues -and saved a life beside - -a nameless man, amid the crowd -that thronged the daily mart -let fall a word of hope and love -unstudied from the heart -a whisper on the tumult thrown -a transitory breath -it raised a brother from the dust -it saved a soul from death -o germ! o fount! o word of love -o thought at random cast -ye were but little at the first -but mighty at the last - - - -shed no tear! o shed no tear -the flower will bloom another year -weep no more! o, weep no more -young buds sleep in the root's white core -dry your eyes! oh! dry your eyes -for i was taught in paradise -to ease my breast of melodies -shed no tear - -overhead! look overhead -look up, look up. i flutter now -on this flush pomegranate bough -see me! 'tis this silvery bell -ever cures the good man's ill -shed no tear! o, shed no tear -the flowers will bloom another year -adieu, adieu--i fly, adieu -i vanish in the heaven's blue -adieu, adieu - - - -attractive to children - -where the pools are bright and deep -where the gray trout lies asleep -up the river and o'er the lea -that's the way for billy and me - -where the blackbird sings the latest -where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest -where the nestlings chirp and flee -that's the way for billy and me - -where the mowers mow the cleanest -where the hay lies thick and greenest -there to trace the homeward bee -that's the way for billy and me - -where the hazel bank is steepest -where the shadow falls the deepest -where the clustering nuts fall free -that's the way for billy and me - -why the boys should drive away -little sweet maidens from the play -or love to banter and fight so well -that's the thing i never could tell - -but this i know, i love to play -through the meadow, among the hay -up the water and o'er the lea -that's the way for billy and me - - - -buttercups and daisies -oh, the pretty flowers -coming ere the spring time -to tell of sunny hours -while the tree are leafless -while the fields are bare -buttercups and daisies -spring up here and there - -ere the snowdrop peepeth -ere the crocus bold -ere the early primrose -opes its paly gold -somewhere on the sunny bank -buttercups are bright -somewhere 'mong the frozen grass -peeps the daisy white - -little hardy flowers -like to children poor -playing in their sturdy health -by their mother's door -purple with the north wind -yet alert and bold -fearing not, and caring not -though they be a-cold - -what to them is winter -what are stormy showers -buttercups and daisies -are these human flowers -he who gave them hardships -and a life of care -gave them likewise hardy strength -and patient hearts to bear - - - -triumphal arch, that fills the sky -when storms prepare to part -i ask not proud philosophy -to teach me what thou art - -still seem, as to my childhood's sight -a midway station given -for happy spirits to alight -betwixt the earth and heaven - - - -readily. children are untouched by the commercial spirit which is the -reproach of this age. "ingratitude is the vice of republics," and this -poem puts to shame the love of money and the spirit of ingratitude that -could let a national servant become a wreck - -ay, tear her tattered ensign down -long has it waved on high -and many an eye has danced to see -that banner in the sky -beneath it rung the battle shout -and burst the cannon's roar -the meteor of the ocean air -shall sweep the clouds no more - -her deck, once red with heroes' blood -where knelt the vanquished foe -when winds were hurrying o'er the flood -and waves were white below -no more shall feel the victor's tread -or know the conquered knee -the harpies of the shore shall pluck -the eagle of the sea - -o, better that her shattered hulk -should sink beneath the wave -her thunders shook the mighty deep -and there should be her grave -nail to the mast her holy flag -set every threadbare sail -and give her to the god of storms -the lightning and the gale - - - -has "washed the dishes," "swept up the crumbs," "driven the chickens -from the porch," and done all the other odds and ends of work on a -farm. the poet, james whitcomb riley (1853-), has shown how truly a -little child may be overtaxed and yet preserve a brave spirit and keen -imagination. children invariably love to learn this poem - -little orphant annie's come to our house to stay -an' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away -an' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep -an' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep -an' all us other children, when the supper things is done -we set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun -a-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at annie tells about -an' the gobble-uns 'at gits you -ef you -don't -watch - -onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his pray'rs -an' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs -his mammy heerd him holler, an' his daddy heerd him bawl -an' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all -an' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby hole, an' press -an' seeked him up the chimbly flue, an' ever'-wheres, i guess -but all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout -an' the gobble-uns'll git you -ef you -don't -watch - -an' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin -an' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin -an' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks was there -she mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care -an' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide -they was two great big black things a-standin' by her side -an' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she -knowed what she's about -an' the gobble-uns'll git you -ef you -don't -watch - -an' little orphant annie says, when the blaze is blue -an' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo -an' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray -an' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away -you better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear -an' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear -an' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about -er the gobble-uns'll git you -ef you -don't -watch - - - -of compliment to a little boy aged ten who wanted to recite it once a -week for a year. this song and edwin markham's poem on lincoln are two -of the greatest tributes ever paid to that hero - -o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done -the ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won -the port is near, the bells i hear, the people all exulting -while follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring -but o heart! heart! heart -o the bleeding drops of red -where on the deck my captain lies -fallen cold and dead - -o captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells -rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills -for you bouquets and ribboned wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding -for you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning -here captain! dear father -this arm beneath your head -it is some dream that on the deck -you've fallen cold and dead - -my captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still -my father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will -the ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done -from fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won -exult o shores, and ring o bells -but i, with mournful tread -walk the deck my captain lies -fallen cold and dead - - - -thrust at a refined vice. it is a part of education to learn to be -grateful - -blow, blow, thou winter wind -thou are not so unkind -as man's ingratitude -thy tooth is not so keen -because thou are not seen -although thy breath be rude - -freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky -thou dost not bite so nigh -as benefits forgot -though thou the waters warp -thy sting is not so sharp -as friend remembered not - - - -honour of a hardy plant. there is a wonderful ivy growing at rhudlan -in northern wales. its roots are so large and strong that they form a -comfortable seat for many persons, and no one can remember when they -were smaller. this ivy envelops a great castle in ruins. every child in -that locality loves the old ivy. it is typical of the ivy as seen all -through wales and england - -o, a dainty plant is the ivy green -that creepeth o'er ruins old -of right choice food are his meals, i ween -in his cell so lone and cold -the walls must be crumbled, the stones decayed -to pleasure his dainty whim -and the mouldering dust that years have made -is a merry meal for him -creeping where no life is seen -a rare old plant is the ivy green - -fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings -and a staunch old heart has he -how closely he twineth, how tight he clings -to his friend, the huge oak tree -and slyly he traileth along the ground -and his leaves he gently waves -and he joyously twines and hugs around -the rich mould of dead men's graves -creeping where no life is seen -a rare old plant is the ivy green - -whole ages have fled, and their works decayed -and nations have scattered been -but the stout old ivy shall never fade -from its hale and hearty green -the brave old plant in its lonely days -shall fatten upon the past -for the stateliest building man can raise -is the ivy's food at last -creeping where no life is seen -a rare old plant is the ivy green - - - -virtue well polished is better than none - -it is not growing like a tree -in bulk doth make man better be -or standing long an oak, three hundred year -to fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear -a lily of a day -is fairer far in may -although it fall and die that night -it was the plant and flower of light -in small proportions we just beauties see -and in short measures life may perfect be - - - -his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate ways -it is enough that john burroughs has commended the poem - -of all the woodland creatures -the quaintest little sprite -is the dainty flying squirrel -in vest of shining white -in coat of silver gray -and vest of shining white - -his furry quaker jacket -is trimmed with stripe of black -a furry plume to match it -is curling o'er his back -new curved with every motion -his plume curls o'er his back - -no little new-born baby -has pinker feet than he -each tiny toe is cushioned -with velvet cushions three -three wee, pink, velvet cushions -almost too small to see - -who said, "the foot of baby -might tempt an angel's kiss -i know a score of school-boys -who put their lips to this -this wee foot of the squirrel -and left a loving kiss - -the tiny thief has hidden -my candy and my plum -ah, there he comes unbidden -to gently nip my thumb -down in his home (my pocket -he gently nips my thumb - -how strange the food he covets -the restless, restless wight -fred's old stuffed armadillo -he found a tempting bite -fred's old stuffed armadillo -with ears a perfect fright - -the lady ruth's great bureau -each foot a dragon's paw -the midget ate the nails from -his famous antique claw -oh, what a cruel beastie -to hurt a dragon's claw - -to autographic copies -upon my choicest shelf -to every dainty volume -the rogue has helped himself -my books! oh dear! no matter -the rogue has helped himself - -and yet, my little squirrel -your taste is not so bad -you've swallowed caird completely -and psychologic ladd -rosmini you've digested -and kant in rags you've clad - -gnaw on, my elfish rodent -lay all the sages low -my pretty lace and ribbons -they're yours for weal or woe -my pocket-book's in tatters -because you like it so - - - -there is never a boy who objects to learning "warren's address," by -john pierpont (1785-1866). to stand by one's own rights is inherent in -every true american. this poem is doubtless developed from robert -burns's "bannockburn." (1785-1866 - -stand! the ground's your own, my braves -will ye give it up to slaves -will ye look for greener graves -hope ye mercy still -what's the mercy despots feel -hear it in that battle-peal -read it on yon bristling steel -ask it,--ye who will - -fear ye foes who kill for hire -will ye to your homes retire -look behind you! they're afire -and, before you, see -who have done it!--from the vale -on they come!--and will ye quail -leaden rain and iron hail -let their welcome be - -in the god of battles trust -die we may,--and die we must -but, o, where can dust to dust -be consigned so well -as where heaven its dews shall shed -on the martyred patriot's bed -and the rocks shall raise their head -of his deeds to tell - - - -and girls are concerned. it is a most valuable poem. i once heard a -clergyman in chicago use it as a text for his sermon. since then "annie -laurie" has become the song of the labour party. "the song in camp -voices a universal feeling. (1825-78 - -the outer trenches guarding -when the heated guns of the camps allied -grew weary of bombarding - -the dark redan, in silent scoff -lay, grim and threatening, under -and the tawny mound of the malakoff -no longer belched its thunder - -there was a pause. a guardsman said -sing while we may, another day -will bring enough of sorrow - -they lay along the battery's side -below the smoking cannon -brave hearts, from severn and from clyde -and from the banks of shannon - -they sang of love, and not of fame -forgot was britain's glory -each heart recalled a different name -but all sang "annie laurie - -voice after voice caught up the song -until its tender passion -rose like an anthem, rich and strong -their battle-eve confession - -dear girl, her name he dared not speak -but, as the song grew louder -something upon the soldier's cheek -washed off the stains of powder - -beyond the darkening ocean burned -the bloody sunset's embers -while the crimean valleys learned -how english love remembers - -and once again a fire of hell -rained on the russian quarters -with scream of shot, and burst of shell -and bellowing of the mortars - -and irish nora's eyes are dim -for a singer, dumb and gory -and english mary mourns for him -who sang of "annie laurie - -sleep, soldiers! still in honoured rest -your truth and valour wearing -the bravest are the tenderest -the loving are the daring - - - -its central theme the undying power of human love. the music is notable -for sweetness and delicacy - -the splendour falls on castle walls -and snowy summits old in story -the long light shakes across the lakes -and the wild cataract leaps in glory -blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying -blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying - -o hark, o hear! how thin and clear -and thinner, clearer, farther going -o sweet and far from cliff and scar -the horns of elfland faintly blowing -blow, let us hear the purple glens replying -blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying - -o love, they die in yon rich sky -they faint on hill or field or river -our echoes roll from soul to soul -and grow forever and forever -blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying -and answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying - - - -too highly for its ethical value. children always love to learn it -after hearing it read correctly and by one who understands and -appreciates it. "stand by" is the motto. my pupils teach it to me once -a year and learn it themselves, too - -beneath the low-hung night cloud -that raked her splintering mast -the good ship settled slowly -the cruel leak gained fast - -over the awful ocean -her signal guns pealed out -dear god! was that thy answer -from the horror round about - -a voice came down the wild wind -shall stand till daylight by - -hour after hour crept slowly -yet on the heaving swells -tossed up and down the ship-lights -the lights of the _three bells - -and ship to ship made signals -man answered back to man -while oft, to cheer and hearten -the _three bells_ nearer ran - -and the captain from her taffrail -sent down his hopeful cry - -all night across the waters -the tossing lights shone clear -all night from reeling taffrail -the _three bells_ sent her cheer - -and when the dreary watches -of storm and darkness passed -just as the wreck lurched under -all souls were saved at last - -sail on, _three bells_, forever -in grateful memory sail -ring on, _three bells_ of rescue -above the wave and gale - -type of the love eternal -repeat the master's cry -as tossing through our darkness -the lights of god draw nigh - - - -buchanan read (1822-72). the swing and gallop in it take every boy off -from his feet. the children never teach this poem to me, because they -love to learn it at first sight. it is easily memorised - -up from the south at break of day -bringing to winchester fresh dismay -the affrighted air with a shudder bore -like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door -the terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar -telling the battle was on once more -and sheridan twenty miles away - -and wider still those billows of war -thundered along the horizon's bar -and louder yet into winchester rolled -the roar of that red sea uncontrolled -making the blood of the listener cold -as he thought of the stake in that fiery fray -and sheridan twenty miles away - -but there is a road from winchester town -a good, broad highway leading down -and there, through the flush of the morning light -a steed as black as the steeds of night -was seen to pass as with eagle flight -as if he knew the terrible need -he stretched away with his utmost speed -hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay -with sheridan fifteen miles away - -still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south -the dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth -or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster -foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster -the heart of the steed and the heart of the master -were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls -impatient to be where the battle-field calls -every nerve of the charger was strained to full play -with sheridan only ten miles away - -under his spurning feet the road -like an arrowy alpine river flowed -and the landscape sped away behind -like an ocean flying before the wind -and the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire -swept on, with his wild eye full of ire -but lo! he is nearing his heart's desire -he is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray -with sheridan only five miles away - -the first that the general saw were the groups -of stragglers, and then the retreating troops -what was done--what to do? a glance told him both -then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath -he dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas -and the wave of retreat checked its course there, because -the sight of the master compelled it to pause -with foam and with dust the black charger was gray -by the flash of his eye, and the red nostrils' play -he seemed to the whole great army to say -from winchester down to save the day - -hurrah! hurrah for sheridan -hurrah! hurrah for horse and man -and when their statues are placed on high -under the dome of the union sky -the american soldiers' temple of fame -there with the glorious general's name -be it said, in letters both bold and bright -by carrying sheridan into the fight -from winchester, twenty miles away - - - -goodly percentage of the children who read it want to learn it - -across the lonely beach we flit -and fast i gather, bit by bit -the scattered driftwood, bleached and dry -the wild waves reach their hands for it -the wild wind raves, the tide runs high -as up and down the beach we flit - -above our heads the sullen clouds -scud, black and swift, across the sky -like silent ghosts in misty shrouds -stand out the white lighthouses high -almost as far as eye can reach -i see the close-reefed vessels fly -as fast we flit along the beach - -i watch him as he skims along -uttering his sweet and mournful cry -he starts not at my fitful song -nor flash of fluttering drapery -he has no thought of any wrong -he scans me with a fearless eye -stanch friends are we, well tried and strong - -comrade, where wilt thou be to-night -when the loosed storm breaks furiously -my driftwood fire will burn so bright -to what warm shelter canst thou fly -i do not fear for thee, though wroth -the tempest rushes through the sky -for are we not god's children both - - - -girls always love "lady clare" and "the lord of burleigh." they like to -think that it is enough to be a splendid woman without title or wealth -they want to be loved, if they are loved at all, for their good hearts -and graces of mind. tennyson (1809-92) makes this point repeatedly -through his poems - -it was the time when lilies blow -and clouds are highest up in air -lord ronald brought a lily-white doe -to give his cousin, lady clare - -i trow they did not part in scorn -lovers long-betroth'd were they -they too will wed the morrow morn -god's blessing on the day - -nor for my lands so broad and fair -he loves me for my own true worth -and that is well," said lady clare - -in there came old alice the nurse -said: "who was this that went from thee - -lord ronald is heir of all your lands -and you are not the lady clare - -said lady clare, "that ye speak so wild - -i speak the truth, as i live by bread -i buried her like my own sweet child -and put my child in her stead - -o mother," she said, "if this be true -to keep the best man under the sun -so many years from his due - -and all you have will be lord ronald's -when you are man and wife - -pull off, pull off the brooch of gold -and fling the diamond necklace by - -she said: "not so: but i will know -if there be any faith in man - - -alas! my child, i sinn'd for thee - -my mother dear, if this be so -and lay your hand upon my head -and bless me, mother, ere i go - -she clad herself in a russet gown -she was no longer lady clare -she went by dale, and she went by down -with a single rose in her hair - -the lily-white doe lord ronald had brought -leapt up from where she lay -dropt her head in the maiden's hand -and follow'd her all the way - -down stept lord ronald from his tower -why come you drest like a village maid -that are the flower of the earth - -i am but as my fortunes are -i am a beggar born," she said - -play me no tricks," said lord ronald - -o and proudly stood she up -her heart within her did not fail -she look'd into lord ronald's eyes -and told him all her nurse's tale - -he laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn -he turn'd and kiss'd her where she stood -and i," said he, "the next in blood - -and i," said he, "the lawful heir -we two will wed to-morrow morn -and you shall still be lady clare - - - -in her ear he whispers gaily -maiden, i have watched thee daily -and i think thou lov'st me well -she replies, in accents fainter -he is but a landscape-painter -and a village maiden she - -he to lips, that fondly falter -presses his without reproof -leads her to the village altar -and they leave her father's roof - -little can i give my wife -love will make our cottage pleasant -and i love thee more than life - -they by parks and lodges going -see the lordly castles stand -summer woods, about them blowing -made a murmur in the land - -from deep thought himself he rouses -says to her that loves him well -where the wealthy nobles dwell - -so she goes by him attended -hears him lovingly converse -sees whatever fair and splendid -lay betwixt his home and hers - -parks with oak and chestnut shady -parks and order'd gardens great -ancient homes of lord and lady -built for pleasure and for state - -all he shows her makes him dearer -evermore she seems to gaze -on that cottage growing nearer -where they twain will spend their days - -o but she will love him truly -he shall have a cheerful home -she will order all things duly -when beneath his roof they come - -thus her heart rejoices greatly -till a gateway she discerns -with armorial bearings stately -and beneath the gate she turns -sees a mansion more majestic -than all those she saw before -many a gallant gay domestic -bows before him at the door - -and they speak in gentle murmur -when they answer to his call -while he treads with footstep firmer -leading on from hall to hall - -and while now she wanders blindly -nor the meaning can divine -proudly turns he round and kindly - -here he lives in state and bounty -lord of burleigh, fair and free -not a lord in all the county -is so great a lord as he -all at once the colour flushes -her sweet face from brow to chin -as it were with same she blushes -and her spirit changed within - -then her countenance all over -pale again as death did prove -but he clasp'd her like a lover -and he cheer'd her soul with love - -so she strove against her weakness -tho' at times her spirits sank -shaped her heart with woman's meekness -to all duties of her rank -and a gentle consort made he -and her gentle mind was such -that she grew a noble lady -and the people loved her much -but a trouble weigh'd upon her -and perplex'd her, night and morn -with the burden of an honour -unto which she was not born - -faint she grew and ever fainter -as she murmur'd, "oh, that he -were once more that landscape-painter -which did win my heart from me - -so she droop'd and droop'd before him -fading slowly from his side -three fair children first she bore him -then before her time she died - -weeping, weeping late and early -walking up and pacing down -deeply mourn'd the lord of burleigh -burleigh-house by stamford-town - -and he came to look upon her -and he look'd at her and said -that she wore when she was wed - -then her people, softly treading -bore to earth her body, drest -in the dress that she was wed in -that her spirit might have rest - - - -our land know snatches of it it is a child's poem, every line of it -one summer in boston more than 50,000 people went to take a peep at the -poet's house. (1807-82 - -by the shores of gitche gumee -by the shining big-sea-water -stood the wigwam of nokomis -daughter of the moon, nokomis -dark behind it rose the forest -rose the black and gloomy pine-trees -rose the firs with cones upon them -bright before it beat the water -beat the clear and sunny water -beat the shining big-sea-water - -there the wrinkled old nokomis -nursed the little hiawatha -rocked him in his linden cradle -bedded soft in moss and rushes -safely bound with reindeer sinews -stilled his fretful wail by saying -lulled him into slumber, singing -who is this that lights the wigwam -with his great eyes lights the wigwam -ewa-yea! my little owlet - -many things nokomis taught him -of the stars that shine in heaven -showed him ishkoodah, the comet -ishkoodah, with fiery tresses -showed the death-dance of the spirits -warriors with their plumes and war-clubs -flaring far away to northward -in the frosty nights of winter -showed the broad, white road in heaven -pathway of the ghosts, the shadows -running straight across the heavens -crowded with the ghosts, the shadows - -at the door, on summer evenings -sat the little hiawatha -heard the whispering of the pine-trees -heard the lapping of the water -sounds of music, words of wonder -saw the fire-fly, wah-wah-taysee -flitting through the dusk of evening -with the twinkle of its candle -lighting up the brakes and bushes -and he sang the song of children -sang the song nokomis taught him -little, flitting, white-fire insect -little, dancing, white-fire creature -light me with your little candle -ere upon my bed i lay me -ere in sleep i close my eyelids - -saw the moon rise from the water -rippling, rounding from the water -saw the flecks and shadows on it -whispered, "what is that, nokomis -and the good nokomis answered -seized his grandmother, and threw her -up into the sky at midnight -right against the moon he threw her - -saw the rainbow in the heaven -in the eastern sky, the rainbow -whispered, "what is that, nokomis -and the good nokomis answered -all the wild-flowers of the forest -all the lilies of the prairie -when on earth they fade and perish -blossom in that heaven above us - -when he heard the owls at midnight -hooting, laughing in the forest -and the good nokomis answered -talking in their native language -talking, scolding at each other - -then the little hiawatha -learned of every bird its language -learned their names and all their secrets -how they built their nests in summer -where they hid themselves in winter -talked with them whene'er he met them -called them "hiawatha's chickens - -of all beasts he learned the language -learned their names and all their secrets -how the beavers built their lodges -where the squirrels hid their acorns -how the reindeer ran so swiftly -why the rabbit was so timid -talked with them whene'er he met them -called them "hiawatha's brothers - - - -splendid teacher at poughkeepsie. i found the pupils learning the poem -the teacher having placed a bunch of daffodils in a vase before them -it was a charming lesson. (1770-96 - -i wandered lonely as a cloud -that floats on high o'er vales and hills -when all at once i saw a crowd -a host of golden daffodils -beside the lake, beneath the trees -fluttering and dancing in the breeze - -continuous as the stars that shine -and twinkle on the milky way -they stretched in never-ending line -along the margin of a bay -ten thousand saw i at a glance -tossing their heads in sprightly dance - -the waves beside them danced, but they -outdid the sparkling waves in glee -a poet could not but be gay -in such a jocund company -i gazed--and gazed--but little thought -what wealth the show to me had brought - -for oft, when on my couch i lie -in vacant or in pensive mood -they flash upon that inward eye -which is the bliss of solitude -and then my heart with pleasure fills -and dances with the daffodils - - - -successful struggle. one editor has made a temperance poem of it -mistaking its true intent. the poem is a strong expression of a -plow-man's love for a hardy, food-giving grain which has sprung to life -through his efforts. (1759-96 - -there were three kings into the east -three kings both great and high -and they ha'e sworn a solemn oath -john barleycorn should die - -they took a plow and plowed him down -put clods upon his head -and they ha'e sworn a solemn oath -john barleycorn was dead - -but the cheerful spring came kindly on -and showers began to fall -john barleycorn got up again -and sore surprised them all - -the sultry suns of summer came -and he grew thick and strong -his head well arm'd wi' pointed spears -that no one should him wrong - -the sober autumn entered mild -and he grew wan and pale -his bending joints and drooping head -showed he began to fail - -his colour sickened more and more -he faded into age -and then his enemies began -to show their deadly rage - -they took a weapon long and sharp -and cut him by the knee -then tied him fast upon a cart -like a rogue for forgery - -they laid him down upon his back -and cudgelled him full sore -they hung him up before the storm -and turn'd him o'er and o'er - -they filled up then a darksome pit -with water to the brim -and heaved in poor john barleycorn -to let him sink or swim - -they laid him out upon the floor -to work him further woe -and still as signs of life appeared -they tossed him to and fro - -they wasted o'er a scorching flame -the marrow of his bones -but a miller used him worst of all -he crushed him 'tween two stones - -and they have taken his very heart's blood -and drunk it round and round -and still the more and more they drank -their joy did more abound - - - -and motion of the water of the great ocean. children remember it almost -unconsciously after hearing it read several times - -a life on the ocean wave -a home on the rolling deep -where the scattered waters rave -and the winds their revels keep -like an eagle caged, i pine -on this dull, unchanging shore -oh! give me the flashing brine -the spray and the tempest's roar - -once more on the deck i stand -of my own swift-gliding craft -set sail! farewell to the land -the gale follows fair abaft -we shoot through the sparkling foam -like an ocean-bird set free -like the ocean-bird, our home -we'll find far out on the sea - -the land is no longer in view -the clouds have begun to frown -but with a stout vessel and crew -we'll say, let the storm come down -and the song of our hearts shall be -while the winds and the waters rave -a home on the rolling sea -a life on the ocean wave - - - -it is customary, every new year's eve in america, to ring bells, fire -guns, send up rockets, and, in many other ways, to show joy and -gratitude that the old year has been so kind, and that the new year is -so auspicious. the emphasis in tennyson's poem is laid on gratitude for -past benefits so easily forgotten rather than upon the possible -advantages of the unknown and untried future - -full knee-deep lies the winter snow -and the winter winds are wearily sighing -toll ye the church-bell sad and slow -and tread softly and speak low -for the old year lies a-dying -old year, you must not die -you came to us so readily -you lived with us so steadily -old year, you shall not die - -he lieth still: he doth not move -he will not see the dawn of day -he hath no other life above -he gave me a friend, and a true true-love -and the new-year will take 'em away -old year, you must not go -so long as you have been with us -such joy as you have seen with us -old year, you shall not go - -he froth'd his bumpers to the brim -a jollier year we shall not see -but tho' his eyes are waxing dim -and tho' his foes speak ill of him -he was a friend to me -old year, you shall not die -we did so laugh and cry with you -i've half a mind to die with you -old year, if you must die - -he was full of joke and jest -but all his merry quips are o'er -to see him die, across the waste -his son and heir doth ride post-haste -but he'll be dead before -every one for his own -the night is starry and cold, my friend -and the new-year blithe and bold, my friend -comes up to take his own - -how hard he breathes! over the snow -i heard just now the crowing cock -the shadows flicker to and fro -the cricket chirps: the light burns low -shake hands, before you die -old year, we'll dearly rue for you -what is it we can do for you -speak out before you die - -his face is growing sharp and thin -alack! our friend is gone -close up his eyes: tie up his chin -step from the corpse, and let him in -that standeth there alone -and waiteth at the door -there's a new foot on the floor, my friend -and a new face at the door, my friend -a new face at the door - - - - -abou ben adhem (may his tribe increase -awoke one night from a deep dream of peace -and saw within the moonlight in his room -making it rich and like a lily in bloom -an angel writing in a book of gold - -exceeding peace had made ben adhem bold -and to the presence in the room he said -and, with a look made of all sweet accord -answered, "the names of those who love the lord - -replied the angel. abou spoke more low -but cheerly still; and said, "i pray thee, then -write me as one that loves his fellow-men - -the angel wrote, and vanished. the next night -it came again, with a great wakening light -and showed the names whom love of god had blessed -and, lo! ben adhem's name led all the rest - - - -reader. how the boys and girls loved it! the author, j.t. trowbridge -poem is just as popular as it ever was - -over the hill the farm-boy goes -his shadow lengthens along the land -a giant staff in a giant hand -in the poplar-tree, above the spring -the katydid begins to sing -the early dews are falling -into the stone-heap darts the mink -the swallows skim the river's brink -and home to the woodland fly the crows -when over the hill the farm-boy goes -cheerily calling -farther, farther over the hill -faintly calling, calling still - -into the yard the farmer goes -with grateful heart, at the close of day -harness and chain are hung away -in the wagon-shed stand yoke and plow -the straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow -the cooling dews are falling -the friendly sheep his welcome bleat -the pigs come grunting to his feet -the whinnying mare her master knows -when into the yard the farmer goes -his cattle calling -while still the cow-boy, far away -goes seeking those that have gone astray - -now to her task the milkmaid goes -the cattle come crowding through the gate -lowing, pushing, little and great -about the trough, by the farm-yard pump -the frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump -while the pleasant dews are falling -the new-milch heifer is quick and shy -but the old cow waits with tranquil eye -and the white stream into the bright pail flows -when to her task the milkmaid goes -soothingly calling -the cheerful milkmaid takes her stool -and sits and milks in the twilight cool -saying, "so! so, boss! so! so - -to supper at last the farmer goes -the apples are pared, the paper read -the stories are told, then all to bed -without, the crickets' ceaseless song -makes shrill the silence all night long -the heavy dews are falling -the housewife's hand has turned the lock -drowsily ticks the kitchen clock -the household sinks to deep repose -but still in sleep the farm-boy goes -singing, calling -and oft the milkmaid, in her dreams -drums in the pail with the flashing streams -murmuring, "so, boss! so - - - -on turning up her nest with the plow, november, 1785 - -the ineffable touches of tenderness that illumine the sturdy plowman -the contrast between the strong man and the delicate flower or creature -at his mercy makes tenderness in man a vital point in character - -the lines "to a mouse" seem by report to have been composed while burns -was actually plowing. one of the poet's first editors wrote: "john -blane, who had acted as gaudsman to burns, and who lived sixty years -afterward, had a distinct recollection of the turning up of the mouse -like a thoughtless youth as he was, he ran after the creature to kill -it, but was checked and recalled by his master, who he observed became -thereafter thoughtful and abstracted. burns, who treated his servants -with the familiarity of fellow-labourers, soon afterward read the poem -to blane - -wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie -oh, what a panic's in thy breastie -thou needna start awa' sae hasty -wi' bickering brattle -i wad be laith to rin and chase thee -wi' murd'ring pattle - -i'm truly sorry man's dominion -has broken nature's social union -and justifies that ill opinion -which makes thee startle -at me, thy poor earth-born companion -and fellow-mortal - -i doubtna, whiles, but thou may thieve -what then? poor beastie, thou maun live -a daimen icker in a thrave -i'll get a blessin' wi' the lave -and never miss 't - -thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin -its silly wa's the win's are strewin -and naething now to big a new ane -o' foggage green -and bleak december's winds ensuin -baith snell and keen - -thou saw the fields laid bare and waste -and weary winter comin' fast -and cozie here, beneath the blast -thou thought to dwell -till, crash! the cruel coulter passed -out through thy cell - -that wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble -has cost thee monie a weary nibble -now thou's turned out for a' thy trouble -but house or hald -to thole the winter's sleety dribble -and cranreuch cauld - -but, mousie, thou art no thy lane -in proving foresight may be vain -the best-laid schemes o' mice and men -gang aft a-gley -and lea'e us naught but grief and pain -for promised joy - -still thou art blest, compared wi' me -the present only toucheth thee -but, och! i backward cast my e'e -on prospects drear -and forward, though i canna see -i guess and fear - - - -on turning one down with the plow in april, 1786 - -wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower -thou's met me in an evil hour -for i maun crush amang the stoure -thy slender stem -to spare thee now is past my power -thou bonny gem - -alas! it's no thy neebor sweet -the bonny lark, companion meet -bending thee 'mang the dewy weet -wi' speckled breast -when upward-springing, blithe, to greet -the purpling east - -cauld blew the bitter biting north -upon thy early, humble birth -yet cheerfully thou glinted forth -amid the storm -scarce reared above the parent earth -thy tender form - -the flaunting flowers our gardens yield -high sheltering woods and wa's maun shield -but thou, beneath the random bield -o' clod or stane -adorns the histie stibble-field -unseen, alane - -there, in thy scanty mantle clad -thy snawie bosom sunward spread -thou lifts thy unassuming head -in humble guise -but now the share uptears thy bed -and low thou lies - -such is the fate of artless maid -sweet floweret of the rural shade -by love's simplicity betrayed -and guileless trust -till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid -low i' the dust - -such is the fate of simple bard -on life's rough ocean luckless starr'd -unskilful he to note the card -of prudent lore -till billows rage, and gales blow hard -and whelm him o'er - -such fate to suffering worth is given -who long with wants and woes has striven -by human pride or cunning driven -to misery's brink -till wrenched of every stay but heaven -he, ruined, sink - -even thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate -that fate is thine--no distant date -stern ruin's plowshare drives, elate -full on thy bloom -till crushed beneath the furrow's weight -shall be thy doom - - - -woman (not necessarily an old lady) _worthy of her years_. old age is -honourable if it carries a head that has a halo. (1807-92 - -up from the meadows rich with corn -clear in the cool september morn - -the clustered spires of frederick stand -green-walled by the hills of maryland - -roundabout them orchards sweep -apple and peach tree fruited deep - -fair as the garden of the lord -to the eyes of the famished rebel horde - -on that pleasant morn of the early fall -when lee marched over the mountain-wall - -over the mountains winding down -horse and foot, into frederick town - -forty flags with their silver stars -forty flags with their crimson bars - -flapped in the morning wind: the sun -of noon looked down, and saw not one - -up rose old barbara frietchie then -bowed with her fourscore years and ten - -bravest of all in frederick town -she took up the flag the men hauled down - -in her attic window the staff she set -to show that one heart was loyal yet - -up the street came the rebel tread -stonewall jackson riding ahead - -under his slouched hat left and right -he glanced: the old flag met his sight - - -it shivered the window, pane and sash -it rent the banner with seam and gash - -quick, as it fell, from the broken staff -dame barbara snatched the silken scarf - -she leaned far out on the window-sill -and shook it forth with a royal will - -but spare your country's flag," she said - -a shade of sadness, a blush of shame -over the face of the leader came - -the nobler nature within him stirred -to life at that woman's deed and word - -dies like a dog! march on!" he said - -all day long through frederick street -sounded the tread of marching feet - -all day long that free flag tost -over the heads of the rebel host - -even its torn folds rose and fell -on the loyal winds that loved it well - -and through the hill-gaps sunset light -shone over it with a warm good-night - -barbara frietchie's work is o'er -and the rebel rides on his raids no more - -honour to her! and let a tear -fall, for her sake, on stonewall's bier - -over barbara frietchie's grave -flag of freedom and union, wave - -peace and order and beauty draw -round thy symbol of light and law - -and ever the stars above look down -on thy stars below in frederick town - - - -the day's at the morn - - -and the second by campbell (1777-1844), are companions in sentiment and -equally popular with boys who love to win anything desirable by heroic -effort - -oh, young lochinvar is come out of the west -through all the wide border his steed was the best -and save his good broadsword he weapons had none -he rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone -so faithful in love, and so dauntless in war -there never was knight like the young lochinvar - -he stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone -he swam the eske river where ford there was none -but ere he alighted at netherby gate -the bride had consented, the gallant came late -for a laggard in love, and a dastard in war -was to wed the fair ellen of brave lochinvar - -so boldly he entered the netherby hall -among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and all -then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword -or to dance at our bridal, young lord lochinvar - -love swells like the solway, but ebbs like its tide -and now am i come, with this lost love of mine -to lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine -there are maidens in scotland more lovely by far -that would gladly be bride to the young lochinvar - -the bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up -he quaffed of the wine, and he threw down the cup -she looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh -with a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye -he took her soft hand ere her mother could bar - -so stately his form, and so lovely her face -that never a hall such a galliard did grace -while her mother did fret, and her father did fume -and the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume -and the bridemaidens whispered, "'twere better by far -to have matched our fair cousin with young lochinvar - -one touch to her hand, and one word in her ear -when they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near -so light to the croupe the fair lady he swung -so light to the saddle before her he sprung -they'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young lochinvar - -there was mounting 'mong græmes of the netherby clan -forsters, fenwicks, and musgraves, they rode and they ran -there was racing and chasing, on cannobie lee -but the lost bride of netherby ne'er did they see -so daring in love, and so dauntless in war -have ye e'er heard of gallant like young lochinvar - - - -a chieftain, to the highlands bound -cries, "boatman, do not tarry -and i'll give thee a silver pound -to row us o'er the ferry - -this dark and stormy water -and this lord ullin's daughter - -three days we've fled together -for should he find us in the glen -my blood would stain the heather - -should they our steps discover -then who will cheer my bonny bride -when they have slain her lover - -outspoke the hardy highland wight -it is not for your silver bright -but for your winsome lady - -in danger shall not tarry -so though the waves are raging white -i'll row you o'er the ferry - -by this the storm grew loud apace -the water-wraith was shrieking -and in the scowl of heaven each face -grew dark as they were speaking - -but still as wilder blew the wind -and as the night grew drearer -adown the glen rode armèd men -their trampling sounded nearer - -i'll meet the raging of the skies -but not an angry father - -the boat has left a stormy land -a stormy sea before her -when, oh! too strong for human hand -the tempest gathered o'er her - -and still they row'd amid the roar -of waters fast prevailing -lord ullin reach'd that fatal shore -his wrath was changed to wailing - -for sore dismay'd through storm and shade -his child he did discover -one lovely hand she stretch'd for aid -and one was round her lover - -and i'll forgive your highland chief -my daughter!--oh my daughter - -return or aid preventing -the waters wild went o'er his child -and he was left lamenting - - - -obedience under stern necessity. obedience is the salvation of any -army. john burroughs says: "i never hear that poem but what it thrills -me through and through - -half a league, half a league -half a league onward -all in the valley of death -rode the six hundred -charge for the guns!" he said -into the valley of death -rode the six hundred - -was there a man dismay'd -not tho' the soldier knew -some one had blunder'd -theirs not to make reply -theirs not to reason why -theirs but to do and die -into the valley of death -rode the six hundred - -cannon to right of them -cannon to left of them -cannon in front of them -volley'd and thunder'd -storm'd at with shot and shell -boldly they rode and well -into the jaws of death -into the mouth of hell -rode the six hundred - -flash'd all their sabers bare -flash'd as they turn'd in air -sab'ring the gunners there -charging an army, while -all the world wonder'd -plunged in the battery-smoke -right thro' the line they broke -cossack and russian -reel'd from the saber-stroke -shatter'd and sunder'd -then they rode back, but not -not the six hundred - -cannon to right of them -cannon to left of them -cannon behind them -volleyed and thundered -stormed at with shot and shell -while horse and hero fell -they that had fought so well -came through the jaws of death -back from the mouth of hell -all that was left of them -left of six hundred - -when can their glory fade -oh, the wild charge they made -all the world wondered -honour the charge they made -honour the light brigade -noble six hundred - - - -there are several of sidney lanier's (1842-81) poems that children love -to learn. "tampa robins," "the tournament" (joust 1.), "barnacles -alabama" are among them. at our "poetry contests" the children have -plainly demonstrated that this great poet has reached his hand down to -the youngest. the time will doubtless come when it will be a part of -education to be acquainted with lanier, as it is now to be acquainted -with longfellow or tennyson - - -bright shone the lists, blue bent the skies -and the knights still hurried amain -to the tournament under the ladies' eyes -where the jousters were heart and brain - - -flourished the trumpets, entered heart -a youth in crimson and gold -flourished again; brain stood apart -steel-armoured, dark and cold - - -heart's palfrey caracoled gaily round -heart tra-li-ra'd merrily -but brain sat still, with never a sound -so cynical-calm was he - - -heart's helmet-crest bore favours three -from his lady's white hand caught -while brain wore a plumeless casque; not he -or favour gave or sought - - -the trumpet blew; heart shot a glance -to catch his lady's eye -but brain gazed straight ahead, his lance -to aim more faithfully - - -they charged, they struck; both fell, both bled -brain rose again, ungloved -heart, dying, smiled and faintly said - - - -little laddie, do you remember learning "the wind and the moon"? you -were eight or nine years old, and you shut your eyes and puffed out -your cheeks when you came to the line "he blew and he blew." the saucy -wind made a great racket and the calm moon never noticed it. that gave -you a great deal of pleasure, didn't it? we did not care much for the -noisy, conceited wind. (1824 - -said the wind to the moon, "i will blow you out -you stare -in the air -like a ghost in a chair -always looking what i am about -i hate to be watched; i'll blow you out - -the wind blew hard, and out went the moon -so, deep -on a heap -of clouds to sleep -down lay the wind, and slumbered soon -muttering low, "i've done for that moon - -he turned in his bed; she was there again -on high -in the sky -with her one ghost eye -the moon shone white and alive and plain -said the wind, "i will blow you out again - -the wind blew hard, and the moon grew dim -and my wedge -i have knocked off her edge -if only i blow right fierce and grim -the creature will soon be dimmer than dim - -he blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread -more's enough -to blow her to snuff -one good puff more where the last was bred -and glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread - -he blew a great blast, and the thread was gone -in the air -nowhere -was a moonbeam bare -far off and harmless the shy stars shone -sure and certain the moon was gone - -the wind he took to his revels once more -on down -in town -like a merry-mad clown -he leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar - -he flew in a rage--he danced and blew -but in vain -was the pain -of his bursting brain -for still the broader the moon-scrap grew -the broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew - -slowly she grew--till she filled the night -and shone -on her throne -in the sky alone -a matchless, wonderful silvery light -radiant and lovely, the queen of the night - -with my breath -good faith -i blew her to death -first blew her away right out of the sky - -but the moon she knew nothing about the affair -for high -in the sky -with her one white eye -motionless, miles above the air -she had never heard the great wind blare - - - -favour of honest toil. (1848 - -joseph the carpenter--same trade as me -i thought as i'd find it--i knew it was here -but my sight's getting queer - -i don't know right where as his shed must ha' stood -but often, as i've been a-planing my wood -i've took off my hat, just with thinking of he -at the same work as me - -he warn't that set up that he couldn't stoop down -and work in the country for folks in the town -and i'll warrant he felt a bit pride, like i've done -at a good job begun - -the parson he knows that i'll not make too free -but on sunday i feels as pleased as can be -when i wears my clean smock, and sits in a pew -and has taught a few - -i think of as how not the parson hissen -as is teacher and father and shepherd o' men -not he knows as much of the lord in that shed -where he earned his own bread - -and when i goes home to my missus, says she -for she knows my queer ways, and my love for the shed - -so i comes right away by mysen, with the book -and i turns the old pages and has a good look -for the text as i've found, as tells me as he -were the same trade as me - -why don't i mark it? ah, many say so -but i think i'd as lief, with your leaves, let it go -it do seem that nice when i fall on it sudden -unexpected, you know - - - -covers all europe with her dainty hands and tresses while giving a kiss -to england, her own dear native land. (1808-79 - -when letty had scarce pass'd her third glad year -and her young, artless words began to flow -one day we gave the child a colour'd sphere -of the wide earth, that she might mark and know -by tint and outline, all its sea and land -she patted all the world; old empires peep'd -between her baby fingers; her soft hand -was welcome at all frontiers. how she leap'd -and laugh'd and prattled in her world-wide bliss -but when we turn'd her sweet unlearned eye -on our own isle, she rais'd a joyous cry -and, while she hid all england with a kiss -bright over europe fell her golden hair - - - -once a dream did wave a shade -o'er my angel-guarded bed -that an emmet lost its way -when on grass methought i lay - -troubled, 'wildered, and forlorn -dark, benighted, travel-worn -over many a tangled spray -all heart-broke, i heard her say - -do they hear their father sigh -now they look abroad to see -now return and weep for me - -pitying, i dropped a tear -but i saw a glow-worm near -who replied, "what wailing wight -calls the watchman of the night - -while the beetle goes his round -follow now the beetle's hum -little wanderer, hie thee home - - - - -j.g. holland (1819-81) has immortalised himself in this line, at least - -heaven is not reached at a single bound -but we build the ladder by which we rise -from the lowly earth to the vaulted skies -and we mount to its summit round by round - -i count this thing to be grandly true -that a noble deed is a step toward god -lifting the soul from the common clod -to a purer air and a broader view - - - -have you been to woodstock, near oxford, england? if so, you have seen -the palace of the duke of marlborough, who won the battle of blenheim -the main point of the poem is the doubtful honour in killing in our -great wars. southey, the poet, lived from 1774 to 1843 - -it was a summer's evening -old kaspar's work was done -and he before his cottage door -was sitting in the sun -and by him sported on the green -his little grandchild wilhelmine - -she saw her brother peterkin -roll something large and round -which he, beside the rivulet -in playing there, had found -he came to ask what he had found -that was so large, and smooth, and round - -old kaspar took it from the boy -who stood expectant by -and then the old man shook his head -and, with a natural sigh - -for there's many hereabout -and often when i go to plow -the plowshare turns them out -for many thousand men," said he - -young peterkin he cries -and little wilhelmine looks up -with wonder-waiting eyes -and what they killed each other for - -but what they killed each other for -i could not well make out -but everybody said," quoth he - -yon little stream hard by -they burned his dwelling to the ground -and he was forced to fly -so with his wife and child he fled -nor had he where to rest his head - -was wasted far and wide -and many a childing mother then -and new-born baby died -but things like that, you know, must be -at every famous victory - -after the field was won -for many thousand bodies here -lay rotting in the sun -but things like that, you know, must be -after a famous victory - -and our good prince eugene -said little wilhelmine - -who this great fight did win -quoth little peterkin - - - -respect to a boy of eleven years who liked the poem well enough to -recite it frequently. the scene is laid on helvellyn, to me the most -impressive mountain of the lake district of england. wordsworth is a -part of this country. i once heard john burroughs say: "i went to the -lake district to see what kind of a country it could be that would -produce a wordsworth - -a barking sound the shepherd hears -a cry as of a dog or fox -he halts--and searches with his eyes -among the scattered rocks -and now at distance can discern -a stirring in a brake of fern -and instantly a dog is seen -glancing through that covert green - -the dog is not of mountain breed -its motions, too, are wild and shy -with something, as the shepherd thinks -unusual in its cry -nor is there any one in sight -all round, in hollow or on height -nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear -what is the creature doing here - -it was a cove, a huge recess -that keeps, till june, december's snow -a lofty precipice in front -a silent tarn below -far in the bosom of helvellyn -remote from public road or dwelling -pathway, or cultivated land -from trace of human foot or hand - -there sometimes doth a leaping fish -send through the tarn a lonely cheer -the crags repeat the raven's croak -in symphony austere -thither the rainbow comes--the cloud -and mists that spread the flying shroud -and sunbeams; and the sounding blast -that, if it could, would hurry past -but that enormous barrier binds it fast - -not free from boding thoughts, a while -the shepherd stood: then makes his way -toward the dog, o'er rocks and stones -as quickly as he may -nor far had gone, before he found -a human skeleton on the ground -the appalled discoverer with a sigh -looks round, to learn the history - -from those abrupt and perilous rocks -the man had fallen, that place of fear -at length upon the shepherd's mind -it breaks, and all is clear -he instantly recalled the name -and who he was, and whence he came -remembered, too, the very day -on which the traveller passed this way - -but hear a wonder, for whose sake -this lamentable tale i tell -a lasting monument of words -this wonder merits well -the dog, which still was hovering nigh -repeating the same timid cry -this dog had been through three months space -a dweller in that savage place - -yes, proof was plain that, since the day -when this ill-fated traveller died -the dog had watched about the spot -or by his master's side -how nourished here through such long time -he knows, who gave that love sublime -and gave that strength of feeling, great -above all human estimate - - - -people are more and more coming to recognise the fact that each -individual soul has a right to its own stages of development. "the -chambered nautilus" is for that reason beloved of the masses. it is one -of the grandest poems ever written. "build thee more stately mansions -o my soul!" this line alone would make the poem immortal. (1809-94 - -this is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign -sailed the unshadowed main -the venturous bark that flings -on the sweet summer wind its purpled wings -in gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings -and coral reefs lie bare -where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair - -its webs of living gauze no more unfurl -wrecked is the ship of pearl -and every chambered cell -where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell -as the frail tenant shaped his growing shell -before thee lies revealed -its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed - -year after year beheld the silent toil -that spread his lustrous coil -still, as the spiral grew -he left the past year's dwelling for the new -stole with soft step its shining archway through -built up its idle door -stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more - -thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee -child of the wandering sea -cast from her lap, forlorn -from thy dead lips a clearer note is born -than ever triton blew from wreathed horn -while on mine ear it rings -through the deep caves of thought i hear a voice that sings - -build thee more stately mansions, o my soul -as the swift seasons roll -leave thy low-vaulted past -let each new temple, nobler than the last -shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast -till thou at length art free -leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea - - - -tennyson's (1809-92) "crossing the bar" is one of the noblest -death-songs ever written. i include it in this volume out of respect to -a young philadelphia publisher who recited it one stormy night before -the passengers of a ship when i was crossing the atlantic, and also -because so many young people have the good taste to love it. it has -been said that next to browning's "prospice" it is the greatest -death-song ever written - -sunset and evening star -and one clear call for me -and may there be no moaning of the bar -when i put out to sea - -but such a tide as moving seems asleep -too full for sound and foam -when that which drew from out the boundless deep -turns again home - -twilight and evening bell -and after that the dark -and may there be no sadness of farewell -when i embark - -for tho' from out our bourne of time and place -the flood may bear me far -i hope to see my pilot face to face -when i have cross'd the bar - - - -when one boy learns it the others want to follow. it takes as a hero -the man who gives common service--the one who does not lead or command -but follows the line of duty. (1865 - -in the name of the empress of india, make way -o lords of the jungle wherever you roam -the woods are astir at the close of the day -we exiles are waiting for letters from home -let the robber retreat; let the tiger turn tail -in the name of the empress the overland-mail - -with a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in -he turns to the foot-path that leads up the hill -the bags on his back, and a cloth round his chin -and, tucked in his belt, the post-office bill - -is the torrent in spate? he must ford it or swim -has the rain wrecked the road? he must climb by the cliff -does the tempest cry "halt"? what are tempests to him -the service admits not a "but" or an "if -while the breath's in his mouth, he must bear without fail -in the name of the empress the overland-mail - -from aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir -from level to upland, from upland to crest -from rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock-ridge to spur -fly the soft-sandalled feet, strains the brawny brown chest -from rail to ravine--to the peak from the vale -up, up through the night goes the overland-mail - -there's a speck on the hillside, a dot on the road -a jingle of bells on the foot-path below -there's a scuffle above in the monkeys' abode -the world is awake, and the clouds are aglow -for the great sun himself must attend to the hail -in the name of the empress the overland-mail - - - -think you were ten years old. sir walter scott's men all have a genius -for standing up to their guns, and boys gather up the man's genius when -reciting his verse. (1771-1832 - -pibroch of donuil dhu -pibroch of donuil -wake thy wild voice anew -summon clan conuil -come away, come away -hark to the summons -come in your war-array -gentles and commons - -come from deep glen, and -from mountain so rocky -the war-pipe and pennon -are at inverlochy -come every hill-plaid, and -true heart that wears one -come every steel blade, and -strong hand that bears one - -leave untended the herd -the flock without shelter -leave the corpse uninterr'd -the bride at the altar -leave the deer, leave the steer -leave nets and barges -come with your fighting gear -broadswords and targes - -come as the winds come, when -forests are rended -come as the waves come, when -navies are stranded -faster come, faster come -faster and faster -chief, vassal, page, and groom -tenant and master - -fast they come, fast they come -see how they gather -wide waves the eagle plume -blended with heather -cast your plaids, draw your blades -forward each man set -pibroch of donuil dhu -knell for the onset - - - -school-reader. boys and girls liked it then and they like it now. this -is another of the poems that was not born to die - -at midnight, in his guarded tent -the turk was dreaming of the hour -when greece, her knee in suppliance bent -should tremble at his power -in dreams, through camp and court, he bore -the trophies of a conqueror -in dreams his song of triumph heard -then wore his monarch's signet ring -then pressed that monarch's throne--a king -as wild his thoughts, and gay of wing -as eden's garden bird - -at midnight, in the forest shades -bozzaris ranged his suliote band -true as the steel of their tried blades -heroes in heart and hand -there had the persian's thousands stood -there had the glad earth drunk their blood -on old platæa's day -and now there breathed that haunted air -the sons of sires who conquered there -with arm to strike and soul to dare -as quick, as far as they - -an hour passed on--the turk awoke -that bright dream was his last -he woke--to hear his sentries shriek -he woke--to die midst flame, and smoke -and shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke -and death-shots falling thick and fast -as lightnings from the mountain-cloud -and heard, with voice as trumpet loud -bozzaris cheer his band -strike--for your altars and your fires -strike--for the green graves of your sires -god--and your native land - -they fought--like brave men, long and well -they piled that ground with moslem slain -they conquered--but bozzaris fell -bleeding at every vein -his few surviving comrades saw -his smile when rang their proud hurrah -and the red field was won -then saw in death his eyelids close -calmly, as to a night's repose -like flowers at set of sun - -come to the bridal-chamber, death -come to the mother's, when she feels -for the first time, her first-born's breath -come when the blessed seals -that close the pestilence are broke -and crowded cities wail its stroke -come in consumption's ghastly form -the earthquake shock, the ocean storm -come when the heart beats high and warm -with banquet-song, and dance, and wine -and thou art terrible--the tear -the groan, the knell, the pall, the bier -and all we know, or dream, or fear -of agony, are thine - -but to the hero, when his sword -has won the battle for the free -thy voice sounds like a prophet's word -and in its hollow tones are heard -the thanks of millions yet to be -come, when his task of fame is wrought -come, with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought -come in her crowning hour--and then -thy sunken eye's unearthly light -to him is welcome as the sight -of sky and stars to prisoned men -thy grasp is welcome as the hand -of brother in a foreign land -thy summons welcome as the cry -that told the indian isles were nigh -to the world-seeking genoese -when the land wind, from woods of palm -and orange-groves, and fields of balm -blew o'er the haytian seas - -bozzaris! with the storied brave -greece nurtured in her glory's time -rest thee--there is no prouder grave -even in her own proud clime -she wore no funeral-weeds for thee -nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume -like torn branch from death's leafless tree -in sorrow's pomp and pageantry -the heartless luxury of the tomb -but she remembers thee as one -long loved and for a season gone -for thee her poet's lyre is wreathed -her marble wrought, her music breathed -for thee she rings the birthday bells -of thee her babe's first lisping tells -for thine her evening prayer is said -at palace-couch and cottage-bed -her soldier, closing with the foe -gives for thy sake a deadlier blow -his plighted maiden, when she fears -for him the joy of her young years -thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears -and she, the mother of thy boys -though in her eye and faded cheek -is read the grief she will not speak -the memory of her buried joys -and even she who gave thee birth -will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth -talk of thy doom without a sigh -for thou art freedom's now, and fame's -one of the few, the immortal names -that were not born to die - - - -of the good old reader songs taught us by a teacher of good taste. we -love those teachers more the older we grow - -wild was the night, yet a wilder night -hung round the soldier's pillow -in his bosom there waged a fiercer fight -than the fight on the wrathful billow - -a few fond mourners were kneeling by -the few that his stern heart cherished -they knew, by his glazed and unearthly eye -that life had nearly perished - -they knew by his awful and kingly look -by the order hastily spoken -that he dreamed of days when the nations shook -and the nations' hosts were broken - -he dreamed that the frenchman's sword still slew -and triumphed the frenchman's eagle -and the struggling austrian fled anew -like the hare before the beagle - -the bearded russian he scourged again -the prussian's camp was routed -and again on the hills of haughty spain -his mighty armies shouted - -over egypt's sands, over alpine snows -at the pyramids, at the mountain -where the wave of the lordly danube flows -and by the italian fountain - -on the snowy cliffs where mountain streams -dash by the switzer's dwelling -he led again, in his dying dreams -his hosts, the proud earth quelling - -again marengo's field was won -and jena's bloody battle -again the world was overrun -made pale at his cannon's rattle - -he died at the close of that darksome day -a day that shall live in story -in the rocky land they placed his clay - - - -how sleep the brave, who sink to rest -by all their country's wishes blest -when spring, with dewy fingers cold -returns to deck their hallow'd mould -she there shall dress a sweeter sod -than fancy's feet have ever trod - -by fairy hands their knell is rung -by forms unseen their dirge is sung -there honour comes, a pilgrim gray -to bless the turf that wraps their clay -and freedom shall a while repair -to dwell a weeping hermit there - - - -who pleased me by his great appreciation of it. it teaches the lesson -of reverence to our great national symbol. it is published by -permission of the author, henry holcomb bennett, of ohio. (1863 - -hats off -along the street there comes -a blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums -a flash of colour beneath the sky -hats off -the flag is passing by - -blue and crimson and white it shines -over the steel-tipped, ordered lines -hats off -the colours before us fly -but more than the flag is passing by - -sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great -fought to make and to save the state -weary marches and sinking ships -cheers of victory on dying lips - -days of plenty and years of peace -march of a strong land's swift increase -equal justice, right, and law -stately honour and reverend awe - -sign of a nation, great and strong -toward her people from foreign wrong -pride and glory and honour,--all -live in the colours to stand or fall - -hats off -along the street there comes -a blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums -and loyal hearts are beating high -hats off -the flag is passing by - - - -on linden, when the sun was low -all bloodless lay th' untrodden snow -and dark as winter was the flow -of iser, rolling rapidly - -but linden saw another sight -when the drum beat, at dead of night -commanding fires of death to light -the darkness of her scenery - -by torch and trumpet fast array'd -each horseman drew his battle-blade -and furious every charger neigh'd -to join the dreadful revelry - -then shook the hills with thunder riven -then rush'd the steed to battle driven -and louder than the bolts of heaven -far flashed the red artillery - -but redder yet that light shall glow -on linden's hills or stainèd snow -and bloodier yet the torrent flow -of iser, rolling rapidly - -can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun -where furious frank, and fiery hun -shout in their sulphurous canopy - -the combat deepens. on, ye brave -who rush to glory or the grave -wave, munich! all thy banners wave -and charge with all thy chivalry - -few, few shall part, where many meet -the snow shall be their winding-sheet -and every turf beneath their feet -shall be a soldier's sepulcher - - - -the sun shines bright in the old kentucky home -the corn-top's ripe, and the meadow's in the bloom -while the birds make music all the day -the young folks roll on the little cabin floor -all merry, all happy and bright -by-'n'-by hard times comes a-knocking at the door -then my old kentucky home, good-night - -weep no more, my lady -o, weep no more to-day -we will sing one song for the old kentucky home -for the old kentucky home, far away - -they hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon -on the meadow, the hill, and the shore -they sing no more by the glimmer of the moon -on the bench by the old cabin door -the day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart -with sorrow, where all was delight -the time has come when the darkeys have to part -then my old kentucky home, good-night - -the head must bow, and the back will have to bend -wherever the darkey may go -a few more days, and the trouble all will end -in the field where the sugar-canes grow -a few more days for to tote the weary load -no matter, 'twill never be light -a few more days till we totter on the road -then my old kentucky home, good-night - -weep no more, my lady -o, weep no more to-day -we will sing one song for the old kentucky home -for the old kentucky home, far away - - - -way down upon de swanee ribber -far, far away -dere's wha my heart is turning ebber -dere's wha de old folks stay -all up and down de whole creation -sadly i roam -still longing for de old plantation -and for de old folks at home - -all de world am sad and dreary -eberywhere i roam -oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary -far from de old folks at home - -all round de little farm i wandered -when i was young -den many happy days i squandered -many de songs i sung -when i was playing wid my brudder -oh, take me to my kind old mudder -dere let me live and die - -one little hut among de bushes -one dat i love -still sadly to my memory rushes -no matter where i rove -when will i see de bees a-humming -all round de comb -when will i hear de banjo tumming -down in my good old home - -all de world am sad and dreary -eberywhere i roam -oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary -far from de old folks at home - - - -woe," off the coast near cape ann, is a historic poem as well as an -imaginative composition - -it was the schooner _hesperus -that sailed the wintry sea -and the skipper had taken his little daughter -to bear him company - -blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax -her cheeks like the dawn of day -and her bosom white as the hawthorn buds -that ope in the month of may - -the skipper he stood beside the helm -his pipe was in his mouth -and he watched how the veering flaw did blow -the smoke now west, now south - -then up and spake an old sailor -had sailed the spanish main -for i fear a hurricane - -and to-night no moon we see -the skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe -and a scornful laugh laughed he - -colder and louder blew the wind -a gale from the northeast -the snow fell hissing in the brine -and the billows frothed like yeast - -down came the storm, and smote amain -the vessel in its strength -she shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed -then leaped her cable's length - -and do not tremble so -for i can weather the roughest gale -that ever wind did blow - -he wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat -against the stinging blast -he cut a rope from a broken spar -and bound her to the mast - -o say, what may it be -and he steered for the open sea - -o say, what may it be -in such an angry sea - -o say, what may it be -but the father answered never a word -a frozen corpse was he - -lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark -with his face turned to the skies -the lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow -on his fixed and glassy eyes - -then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed -that savèd she might be -and she thought of christ, who stilled the wave -on the lake of galilee - -and fast through the midnight dark and drear -through the whistling sleet and snow -like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept -toward the reef of norman's woe - -and ever the fitful gusts between -a sound came from the land -it was the sound of the trampling surf -on the rocks and the hard sea-sand - -the breakers were right beneath her bows -she drifted a dreary wreck -and a whooping billow swept the crew -like icicles from her deck - -she struck where the white and fleecy waves -looked soft as carded wool -but the cruel rocks they gored her side -like the horns of an angry bull - -her rattling shrouds all sheathed in ice -with the masts went by the board -like a vessel of glass she stove and sank -ho! ho! the breakers roared - -at daybreak on the bleak sea-beach -a fisherman stood aghast -to see the form of a maiden fair -lashed close to a drifting mast - -the salt sea was frozen on her breast -the salt tears in her eyes -and he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed -on the billows fall and rise - -such was the wreck of the _hesperus -in the midnight and the snow -christ save us all from a death like this -on the reef of norman's woe - - - - -you can look down on the battle-field of bannockburn from stirling -castle, scotland, near which stands a magnificent statue of robert, the -bruce. how often have i trodden over the old battle-field. the monument -of william wallace, too, looms up on the ochil hills, not far away - -scots, wha hae wi' wallace bled -scots, wham bruce has aften led -welcome to your gory bed -or to victorie - -now's the day, and now's the hour -see the front o' battle lower -see approach proud edward's power -chains and slaverie - -wha will be a traitor knave -wha can fill a coward's grave -wha sae base as be a slave -let him turn and flee - -wha for scotland's king and law -freedom's sword will strongly draw -freeman stand, or freeman fa -let him follow me - -by oppression's woes and pains -by your sons in servile chains -we will drain our dearest veins -but they shall be free - -lay the proud usurpers low -tyrants fall in every foe -liberty's in every blow -let us do, or die - - - -lad and lassie - - - -the man is wrecked and his ship is sunken before he ever steps on board -or sees the water if his heart is hard and his estimate of human beings -low. "the inchcape rock" is a thrust at hard-heartedness. "what is the -use of life?" to bear one another's burdens, to develop a genius for -pulling people through hard places--that's the use of life. it is the -last resort of a mean mind to crack jokes that wreck innocent voyagers -on life's sea. (1774-1843 - -no stir in the air, no stir in the sea -the ship was still as she could be -her sails from heaven received no motion -her keel was steady in the ocean - -without either sign or sound of their shock -the waves flowed over the inchcape rock -so little they rose, so little they fell -they did not move the inchcape bell - -the abbot of aberbrothok -had placed that bell on the inchcape rock -on a buoy in the storm it floated and swung -and over the waves its warning rung - -when the rock was hid by the surge's swell -the mariners heard the warning bell -and then they knew the perilous rock -and blest the abbot of aberbrothok - -the sun in heaven was shining gay -all things were joyful on that day -the sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round -and there was joyance in their sound - -the buoy of the inchcape bell was seen -a dark spot on the ocean green -sir ralph the rover walked his deck -and he fixed his eye on the darker speck - -he felt the cheering power of spring -it made him whistle, it made him sing -his heart was mirthful to excess -but the rover's mirth was wickedness - -his eye was on the inchcape float -quoth he, "my men, put out the boat -and row me to the inchcape rock -and i'll plague the abbot of aberbrothok - -the boat is lowered, the boatmen row -and to the inchcape rock they go -sir ralph bent over from the boat -and he cut the bell from the inchcape float - -down sank the bell with a gurgling sound -the bubbles rose and burst around -quoth sir ralph, "the next who comes to the rock -won't bless the abbot of aberbrothok - -sir ralph the rover sailed away -he scoured the sea for many a day -and now grown rich with plundered store -he steers his course for scotland's shore - -so thick a haze o'erspread the sky -they cannot see the sun on high -the wind hath blown a gale all day -at evening it hath died away - -on the deck the rover takes his stand -so dark it is they see no land -quoth sir ralph, "it will be brighter soon -for there is the dawn of the rising moon - -for methinks we should be near the shore -but i wish i could hear the inchcape bell - -they hear no sound; the swell is strong -though the wind hath fallen, they drift along -till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock - -sir ralph the rover tore his hair -he curst himself in his despair -the waves rush in on every side -the ship is sinking beneath the tide - -but, even in his dying fear -one dreadful sound could the rover hear -a sound as if with the inchcape bell -the devil below was ringing his knell - - - -have learned it they know the meaning of every line and have caught the -spirit of the verse. there is an ancient "lyre," or violin, made in -northern africa, in the possession of a boston lady, and i have found -the mud-turtle rattle among the indians on the indian reservation at -syracuse, new york. they use it as a musical instrument in their -thanksgiving dances. the poem helps to build an interest in history and -mythology while it develops a child's reverence and insight. (1819-91 - -there lay upon the ocean's shore -what once a tortoise served to cover -a year and more, with rush and roar -the surf had rolled it over -had played with it, and flung it by -as wind and weather might decide it -then tossed it high where sand-drifts dry -cheap burial might provide it - -it rested there to bleach or tan -the rains had soaked, the sun had burned it -with many a ban the fisherman -had stumbled o'er and spurned it -and there the fisher-girl would stay -conjecturing with her brother -how in their play the poor estray -might serve some use or other - -so there it lay, through wet and dry -as empty as the last new sonnet -till by and by came mercury -and, having mused upon it -in shape, material, and dimension -give it but strings, and, lo, it sings -a wonderful invention - -so said, so done; the chords he strained -and, as his fingers o'er them hovered -the shell disdained a soul had gained -the lyre had been discovered -o empty world that round us lies -dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken -brought we but eyes like mercury's -in thee what songs should waken - - - -too, in stedman's collection. we all come to a point in life where we -need to burst the shell and fly away into the new realm. (1835-98 - -my little mädchen found one day -a curious something in her play -that was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed -it was not anything that grew -or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew -had neither legs nor wings, indeed -and yet she was not sure, she said -whether it was alive or dead - -she brought it in her tiny hand -to see if i would understand -and wondered when i made reply -with doubtful look she answered me -so then i told her what would be -some day within the chrysalis -how, slowly, in the dull brown thing -now still as death, a spotted wing -and then another, would unfold -till from the empty shell would fly -a pretty creature, by and by -all radiant in blue and gold - -her laughing lips and eager eyes -all in a sparkle of surprise -that ere the worm within its shell -its gauzy, splendid wings had spread -my little mädchen would be dead - -to-day the butterfly has flown -she was not here to see it fly -and sorrowing i wonder why -the empty shell is mine alone -perhaps the secret lies in this -i too had found a chrysalis -and death that robbed me of delight -was but the radiant creature's flight - - - -robert burns, the plowman and poet, "dinnered wi' a lord." the story -goes that he was put at the second table. that lord is dead, but robert -burns still lives. he is immortal. it is "the survival of the fittest -value put on money and other externalities. this poem is more valuable -in education than good penmanship or good spelling. (1759-96 - -is there, for honest poverty -that hangs his head, and a' that -the coward slave, we pass him by -we dare be poor for a' that -for a' that, and a' that -our toils obscure, and a' that -the rank is but the guinea's stamp -the man's the gowd for a' that - -what though on hamely fare we dine -wear hoddin-gray,[1] and a' that -gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine -a man's a man for a' that -for a' that, and a' that -their tinsel show, and a' that -the honest man, though e'er sae poor -is king o' men for a' that - -ye see yon birkie[2] ca'd a lord -wha struts, and stares, and a' that -though hundreds worship at his word -he's but a coof[3] for a' that -for a' that, and a' that -his riband, star, and a' that -the man of independent mind -he looks and laughs at a' that - -a prince can make a belted knight -a marquis, duke, and a' that -but an honest man's aboon his might -guid faith he maunna fa' that -for a' that, and a' that -their dignities, and a' that -the pith o' sense, and pride o' worth -are higher rank than a' that - -then let us pray that come it may -as come it will for a' that -that sense and worth, o'er a' the earth -may bear the gree, and a' that -for a' that, and a' that -it's coming yet for a' that -that man to man, the warld o'er -shall brothers be for a' that - - - - - - - -young father over his new baby. if girls should be educated to be good -mothers, so should boys be taught that fatherhood is the highest and -holiest joy and right of man. the child is educator to the man. he -teaches him how to take responsibility, how to give unbiased judgments -and how to be fatherly like "our father who is in heaven." (1844 - -there came to port last sunday night -the queerest little craft -without an inch of rigging on -i looked and looked and laughed -it seemed so curious that she -should cross the unknown water -and moor herself right in my room -my daughter, o my daughter - -yet by these presents witness all -she's welcome fifty times -and comes consigned to hope and love -and common-meter rhymes -she has no manifest but this -no flag floats o'er the water -she's too new for the british lloyds -my daughter, o my daughter - -ring out, wild bells, and tame ones too -ring out the lover's moon -ring in the little worsted socks -ring in the bib and spoon -ring out the muse! ring in the nurse -ring in the milk and water -away with paper, pen, and ink -my daughter, o my daughter - - - -tennyson's "the brook" is included out of love to a dear old schoolmate -in colorado. the real brook, near cambridge, england, is tame compared -to your colorado streams, o beloved comrade. this poem is well liked by -the majority of pupils. (1809-92 - -i chatter, chatter, as i flow -to join the brimming river -for men may come and men may go -but i go on forever - -i wind about, and in and out -with here a blossom sailing -and here and there a lusty trout -and here and there a grayling - -i steal by lawns and grassy plots -i slide by hazel covers -i move the sweet forget-me-nots -that grow for happy lovers - -i slip, i slide, i gloom, i glance -among my skimming swallows -i make the netted sunbeams dance -against my sandy shallows - -i murmur under moon and stars -in brambly wildernesses -i linger by my shingly bars -i loiter round my cresses - -and out again i curve and flow -to join the brimming river -for men may come and men may go -but i go on forever - - - -because my boys always like it. it needs a great deal of explanation -and few boys will hold out to the end in learning it. but "it pays - -it was our war-ship _clampherdown -would sweep the channel clean -wherefore she kept her hatches close -when the merry channel chops arose -to save the bleached marine - -she had one bow-gun of a hundred ton -and a great stern-gun beside -they dipped their noses deep in the sea -they racked their stays and stanchions free -in the wash of the wind-whipped tide - -it was our war-ship _clampherdown -fell in with a cruiser light -that carried the dainty hotchkiss gun -and a pair o' heels wherewith to run -from the grip of a close-fought fight - -she opened fire at seven miles -as ye shoot at a bobbing cork -and once she fired and twice she fired -till the bow-gun drooped like a lily tired -that lolls upon the stalk - -the deck-beams break below -and botch the shattered plates again -and he answered, "make it so - -she opened fire within the mile -as ye shoot at the flying duck -and the great stern-gun shot fair and true -with the heave of the ship, to the stainless blue -and the great stern-turret stuck - -the feed-pipes burst below -you can hear the hiss of helpless ram -you can hear the twisted runners jam -and he answered, "turn and go - -it was our war-ship _clampherdown -and grimly did she roll -swung round to take the cruiser's fire -as the white whale faces the thresher's ire -when they war by the frozen pole - -and faster still fall we -and it is not meet for english stock -to bide in the heart of an eight-day clock -the death they cannot see - -we drift upon her beam -we dare not ram, for she can run -and dare ye fire another gun -and die in the peeling steam - -it was our war-ship _clampherdown -that carried an armour-belt -but fifty feet at stern and bow -lay bare as the paunch of the purser's sow -to the hail of the nordenfeldt - -the chilled steel bolts are swift -we have emptied the bunkers in open sea -their shrapnel bursts where our coal should be -and he answered, "let her drift - -it was our war-ship _clampherdown -swung round upon the tide -her two dumb guns glared south and north -and the blood and the bubbling steam ran forth -and she ground the cruiser's side - -they bid you send your sword -and he answered, "grapple her stern and bow -they have asked for the steel. they shall have it now -out cutlasses and board - -it was our war-ship _clampherdown -spewed up four hundred men -and the scalded stokers yelped delight -as they rolled in the waist and heard the fight -stamp o'er their steel-walled pen - -they cleared the cruiser end to end -from conning-tower to hold -they fought as they fought in nelson's fleet -they were stripped to the waist, they were bare to the feet -as it was in the days of old - -it was the sinking _clampherdown -heaved up her battered side -and carried a million pounds in steel -to the cod and the corpse-fed conger-eel -and the scour of the channel tide - -it was the crew of the _clampherdown -stood out to sweep the sea -on a cruiser won from an ancient foe -as it was in the days of long-ago -and as it still shall be - - - -collection because johnnie, a ten-year-old, and many of his friends -say, "it's great." (1788-1824 - -the assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold -and his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold -and the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea -when the blue wave rolls nightly on deep galilee - -like the leaves of the forest when the summer is green -that host with their banners at sunset were seen -like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown -that host on the morrow lay withered and strown - -for the angel of death spread his wings on the blast -and breathed in the face of the foe as he passed -and the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill -and their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still - -and there lay the steed with his nostril all wide -but through it there rolled not the breath of his pride -and the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf -and cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf - -and there lay the rider distorted and pale -with the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail -and the tents were all silent, the banners alone -the lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown - -and the widows of ashur are loud in their wail -and the idols are broke in the temple of baal -and the might of the gentile, unsmote by the sword -hath melted like snow in the glance of the lord - - - -i remember, i remember -the house where i was born -the little window where the sun -came peeping in at morn -he never came a wink too soon -nor brought too long a day -but now, i often wish the night -had borne my breath away - -i remember, i remember -the roses, red and white -the violets, and the lily-cups -those flowers made of light -the lilacs where the robin built -and where my brother set -the laburnum on his birthday -the tree is living yet - -i remember, i remember -where i was used to swing -and thought the air must rush as fresh -to swallows on the wing -my spirit flew in feathers then -that is so heavy now -and summer pools could hardly cool -the fever on my brow - -i remember, i remember -the fir trees dark and high -i used to think their slender tops -were close against the sky -it was a childish ignorance -but now 'tis little joy -to know i'm farther off from heaven -than when i was a boy - - - -out of the clover and blue-eyed grass -he turned them into the river lane -one after another he let them pass -then fastened the meadow bars again - -under the willows and over the hill -he patiently followed their sober pace -the merry whistle for once was still -and something shadowed the sunny face - -only a boy! and his father had said -he never could let his youngest go -two already were lying dead -under the feet of the trampling foe - -but after the evening work was done -and the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp -over his shoulder he slung his gun -and stealthily followed the footpath damp - -across the clover, and through the wheat -with resolute heart and purpose grim -though the dew was on his hurrying feet -and the blind bat's flitting startled him - -thrice since then had the lanes been white -and the orchards sweet with apple-bloom -and now, when the cows came back at night -the feeble father drove them home - -for news had come to the lonely farm -that three were lying where two had lain -and the old man's tremulous, palsied arm -could never lean on a son's again - -the summer day grew cool and late -he went for the cows when the work was done -but down the lane, as he opened the gate -he saw them coming one by one - -brindle, ebony, speckle, and bess -shaking their horns in the evening wind -cropping the buttercups out of the grass -but who was it following close behind - -loosely swung in the idle air -the empty sleeve of army blue -and worn and pale, from the crisping hair -looked out a face that the father knew - -for close-barred prisons will sometimes yawn -and yield their dead unto life again -and the day that comes with a cloudy dawn -in golden glory at last may wane - -the great tears sprang to their meeting eyes -for the heart must speak when the lips are dumb -and under the silent evening skies -together they followed the cattle home - - - - -it was summer when he smiled - -eugene field, above all other poets, paid the finest tribute to -children. this poet only, could make the whole ocean warm because a -child's heart was there to warm it - -krinken was a little child -it was summer when he smiled -oft the hoary sea and grim -stretched its white arms out to him -calling, "sun-child, come to me -let me warm my heart with thee -but the child heard not the sea -calling, yearning evermore -for the summer on the shore - -krinken on the beach one day -saw a maiden nis at play -on the pebbly beach she played -in the summer krinken made -fair, and very fair, was she -just a little child was he -just a kiss, and go with me -to the summer-lands that be -down within the silver sea - -krinken was a little child -by the maiden nis beguiled -hand in hand with her went he -and 'twas summer in the sea -and the hoary sea and grim -to its bosom folded him -clasped and kissed the little form -and the ocean's heart was warm - -now the sea calls out no more -it is winter on the shore -winter where that little child -made sweet summer when he smiled -though 'tis summer on the sea -where with maiden nis went he -it is winter on the shore -winter, winter evermore - -of the summer on the deep -come sweet visions in my sleep -these my dreams of summer be - -krinken was a little child -by the maiden nis beguiled -oft the hoary sea and grim -reached its longing arms to him -crying, "sim-child, come to me -let me warm my heart with thee -but the sea calls out no more -it is winter on the shore -winter, cold and dark and wild - -krinken was a little child -it was summer when he smiled -down he went into the sea -and the winter bides with me -just a little child was he - - - -she spoke to stevenson--the master smiled -too swift they come, and all too swiftly fly - -so by a formal deed he there conveyed -all right and title in his natal day -to have and hold, to sell or give away -then signed, and gave it to the little maid - -joyful, yet fearing to believe too much -she took the deed, but scarcely dared unfold -ah, liberal genius! at whose potent touch -all common things shine with transmuted gold -a day of stevenson's will prove to be -not part of time, but immortality - - - -i learned "a modest wit" as a reading-lesson when i was a child. it has -clung to me and so i cling to it. it is just as good as it ever was. it -is a sharp thrust at power that depends on externalities. selleck -osborne - -a supercilious nabob of the east -haughty, being great--purse-proud, being rich -a governor, or general, at the least -i have forgotten which -had in his family a humble youth -who went from england in his patron's suit -an unassuming boy, in truth -a lad of decent parts, and good repute - -this youth had sense and spirit -but yet with all his sense -excessive diffidence -obscured his merit - -one day, at table, flushed with pride and wine -his honour, proudly free, severely merry -conceived it would be vastly fine -to crack a joke upon his secretary - -did your good father gain a livelihood - -instead of teaching you to sew -pray, why did not your father make -a saddler, sir, of you - -each parasite, then, as in duty bound -the joke applauded, and the laugh went round -at length modestus, bowing low -said (craving pardon, if too free he made -your father's trade - -my father's trade? why, blockhead, are you mad -my father, sir, did never stoop so low -he was a gentleman, i'd have you know - -modestus said, with archness on his brow -a gentleman of you - - - -1774-1843). but "the mouse-tower on the rhine" is an object of interest -to travellers, and the story has a point - -the summer and autumn had been so wet -that in winter the corn was growing yet -the grain lie rotting on the ground - -every day the starving poor -crowded around bishop hatto's door -for he had a plentiful last-year's store -and all the neighbourhood could tell -his granaries were furnished well - -at last bishop hatto appointed a day -to quiet the poor without delay -he bade them to his great barn repair -and they should have food for winter there - -rejoiced such tidings good to hear -the poor folk flocked from far and near -the great barn was full as it could hold -of women and children, and young and old - -then, when he saw it could hold no more -bishop hatto, he made fast the door -and while for mercy on christ they call -he set fire to the barn and burned them all - -for ridding it in these times forlorn -of rats that only consume the corn - -so then to his palace returnèd he -and he sat down to supper merrily -and he slept that night like an innocent man -but bishop hatto never slept again - -in the morning as he entered the hall -where his picture hung against the wall -a sweat-like death all over him came -for the rats had eaten it out of the frame - -as he looked, there came a man from his farm -he had a countenance white with alarm -and the rats had eaten all your corn - -another came running presently -and he was pale as pale could be -the lord forgive you yesterday - -the walls are high, and the shores are steep -and the stream is strong, and the water deep - -bishop hatto fearfully hastened away -and he crossed the rhine without delay -and reached his tower, and barred with care -all windows, doors, and loop-holes there - -he laid him down, and closed his eyes -but soon a scream made him arise -he started and saw two eyes of flame -on his pillow, from whence the screaming came - -he listened and looked; it was only the cat -but the bishop he grew more fearful for that -for she sat screaming, mad with fear -at the army of rats that was drawing near - -for they have swum over the river so deep -and they have climbed the shore so steep -and up the tower their way is bent -to do the work for which they were sent - -they are not to be told by the dozen or score -by thousands they come, and by myriads and more -such numbers had never been heard of before -such a judgment had never been witnessed of yore - -down on his knees the bishop fell -and faster and faster his beads did tell -as, louder and louder drawing near -the gnawing of their teeth he could hear - -and in at the windows and in at the door -and through the walls, helter-skelter they pour -and down from the ceiling and up through the floor -from the right and the left, from behind and before -and all at once to the bishop they go - -they have whetted their teeth against the stones -and now they pick the bishop's bones -they gnawed the flesh from every limb -for they were sent to do judgment on him - - - -we are greatly indebted to joaquin miller for his "sail on! sail on -endurance is the watchword of the poem and the watchword of our -republic. every man to his gun! columbus discovered america in his own -mind before he realised it or proved its existence. i have often drawn -a chart of columbus's life and voyages to show what need he had of the -motto "sail on!" to accomplish his end. this is one of our greatest -american poems. the writer still lives in california - -behind him lay the gray azores -behind the gates of hercules -before him not the ghost of shores -before him only shoreless seas -the good mate said: "now must we pray -for lo! the very stars are gone -speak, admiral, what shall i say - -my men grow ghastly wan and weak -the stout mate thought of home; a spray -of salt wave wash'd his swarthy cheek -if we sight naught but seas at dawn - -they sailed and sailed, as winds might blow -until at last the blanch'd mate said -should i and all my men fall dead -these very winds forget their way -for god from these dread seas is gone -now speak, brave admiral, and say -he said: "sail on! and on - -they sailed, they sailed, then spoke his mate -he curls his lip, he lies in wait -with lifted teeth as if to bite -brave admiral, say but one word -what shall we do when hope is gone -the words leaped as a leaping sword - -then, pale and worn, he kept his deck -and thro' the darkness peered that night -ah, darkest night! and then a speck -a light! a light! a light! a light -it grew--a star-lit flag unfurled -it grew to be time's burst of dawn -he gained a world! he gave that world -its watch-word: "on! and on - - - -once a year the children learn "the shepherd of king admetus," which is -one of the finest poems ever written as showing the possible growth of -real history into mythology, the tendency of mankind to deify what is -fine or sublime in human action. not every child will learn this entire -poem, because it is too long. but every child will learn the best lines -in it while the children are teaching it to me and when i take my turn -in teaching it to them. no child fails to catch the spirit and intent -of the poem and to become entirely familiar with it. (1819-91 - -there came a youth upon the earth -some thousand years ago -whose slender hands were nothing worth -whether to plow, or reap, or sow - -upon an empty tortoise-shell -he stretched some chords, and drew -music that made men's bosoms swell -fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew - -then king admetus, one who had -pure taste by right divine -decreed his singing not too bad -to hear between the cups of wine - -and so, well pleased with being soothed -into a sweet half-sleep -three times his kingly beard he smoothed -and made him viceroy o'er his sheep - -his words were simple words enough -and yet he used them so -that what in other mouths was rough -in his seemed musical and low - -men called him but a shiftless youth -in whom no good they saw -and yet, unwittingly, in truth -they made his careless words their law - -they knew not how he learned at all -for idly, hour by hour -he sat and watched the dead leaves fall -or mused upon a common flower - -it seemed the loveliness of things -did teach him all their use -for, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs -he found a healing power profuse - -men granted that his speech was wise -but, when a glance they caught -of his slim grace and woman's eyes -they laughed, and called him good-for-naught - -yet after he was dead and gone -and e'en his memory dim -earth seemed more sweet to live upon -more full of love, because of him - -and day by day more holy grew -each spot where he had trod -till after-poets only knew -their first-born brother as a god - - - -i have an old essay written by a lad of fourteen years on "how they -brought the good news from ghent to aix." i should judge from this -essay that any boy at that age would like the poem, even if he had not -himself been over the ground as this boy had. (1812-89 - -i sprang to the stirrup, and joris, and he -i galloped, dirck galloped, we galloped all three -behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest -and into the midnight we galloped abreast - -not a word to each other; we kept the great pace -neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place -i turned in my saddle and made its girth tight -then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right -rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit -nor galloped less steadily roland a whit - -lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear -at boom, a great yellow star came out to see -at düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be -and from mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime -so joris broke silence with, "yet there is time - -at aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun -and against him the cattle stood black every one -to stare through the mist at us galloping past -and i saw my stout galloper roland at last -with resolute shoulders, each butting away -the haze, as some bluff river headland its spray - -and his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back -for my voice, and the other pricked out on his track -and one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance -o'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance -and the thick, heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon -his fierce lips shook upward in galloping on - -by hasselt, dirck groaned; and cried joris, "stay spur -your roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her -we'll remember at aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze -of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees -and sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank -as down on her haunches she shuddered and sank - -past looz and past tongres, no cloud in the sky -the broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh -till over by dalhem a dome-spire sprang white -and "gallop," gasped joris, "for aix is in sight - -rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone -and there was my roland to bear the whole weight -of the news which alone could save aix from her fate -with his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim -and with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim - -then i cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall -shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all -stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear -called my roland his pet-name, my horse without peer -clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good -till at length into aix roland galloped and stood - -and all i remember is--friends flocking round -as i sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground -and no voice but was praising this roland of mine -as i poured down his throat our last measure of wine -which (the burgesses voting by common consent -was no more than his due who brought the good news from ghent - - - -a child. a distinguished teacher says: "it has become a part of popular -education," as has also "the eve of waterloo" and "the death of -napoleon." they are all poems of great rhythmical swing, intense and -graphic. (1791-1823 - -not a drum was heard, not a funeral note -as his corse to the rampart we hurried -not a soldier discharged his farewell shot -o'er the grave where our hero we buried - -we buried him darkly at dead of night -the sods with our bayonets turning -by the struggling moonbeam's misty light -and the lantern dimly burning - -no useless coffin enclosed his breast -not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him -but he lay like a warrior taking his rest -with his martial cloak around him - -few and short were the prayers we said -and we spoke not a word of sorrow -but we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead -and we bitterly thought of the morrow - -we thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed -and smoothed down his lonely pillow -that the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head -and we far away on the billow - -lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone -and o'er his cold ashes upbraid him -but little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on -in the grave where a briton has laid him - -but half of our heavy task was done -when the clock struck the hour for retiring -and we heard the distant and random gun -that the foe was sullenly firing - -slowly and sadly we laid him down -from the field of his fame fresh and gory -we carved not a line, and we raised not a stone -but we left him alone with his glory - - - -reading-book gem that will always be dear to every boy's heart if he -only reads it a few times - -there was a sound of revelry by night -and belgium's capital had gathered then -her beauty and her chivalry, and bright -the lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men -a thousand hearts beat happily; and when -music arose with its voluptuous swell -soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again -and all went merry as a marriage-bell -but hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell - -did ye not hear it? no; 'twas but the wind -or the car rattling o'er the stony street -on with the dance! let joy be unconfined -no sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet -to chase the glowing hours with flying feet -but hark!--that heavy sound breaks in once more -as if the clouds its echo would repeat -and nearer, clearer, deadlier, than before -arm! arm! it is--it is the cannon's opening roar - -ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro -and gathering tears, and tremblings of distress -and cheeks all pale, which, but an hour ago -blushed at the praise of their own loveliness -and there were sudden partings, such as press -the life from out young hearts, and choking sighs -which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess -if ever more should meet those mutual eyes -since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise - -and there was mounting in hot haste: the steed -the mustering squadron, and the clattering car -went pouring forward with impetuous speed -and swiftly forming in the ranks of war -and the deep thunder peal on peal afar -and near, the beat of the alarming drum -roused up the soldier ere the morning star -while thronged the citizens with terror dumb -or whispering with white lips, "the foe! they come! they come - -and ardennes waves above them her green leaves -dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass -grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves -over the unreturning brave--alas -ere evening to be trodden like the grass -which, now beneath them, but above shall grow -in its next verdure, when this fiery mass -of living valour, rolling on the foe -and burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low - -last noon beheld them full of lusty life -last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay -the midnight brought the signal-sound of strife -the morn the marshalling in arms,--the day -battle's magnificently stern array -the thunder-clouds close o'er it, which, when rent -the earth is covered thick with other clay -which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent -rider, and horse--friend, foe--in one red burial blent - - - - -laddie, aged eleven, do you remember how you studied and recited "king -henry of navarre" every poetry hour for a year? it was a long poem, but -you stuck to it to the end. we did not know the meaning of a certain -word, but i found it up in switzerland. it is the name of a little -town. (1800-59 - -now glory to the lord of hosts, from whom all glories are -and glory to our sovereign liege, king henry of navarre - -now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance -through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, o pleasant -land of france -and thou, rochelle, our own rochelle, proud city of the waters -again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters -as thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy -for cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy -hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war -hurrah! hurrah! for ivry, and henry of navarre - -oh! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day -we saw the army of the league drawn out in long array -with all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers -and appenzel's stout infantry, and egmont's flemish spears -there rode the brood of false lorraine, the curses of our land -and dark mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand -and, as we looked on them, we thought of seine's empurpled flood -and good coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood -and we cried unto the living god, who rules the fate of war -to fight for his own holy name, and henry of navarre - -the king is come to marshal us, in all his armour drest -and he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest -he looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye -he looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high -right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing -down all our line, a deafening shout, "god save our lord the king -for never saw i promise yet of such a bloody fray -press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war -and be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of navarre - -hurrah! the foes are moving. hark to the mingled din -of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin -the fiery duke is pricking fast across st. andré's plain -with all the hireling chivalry of guelders and almayne -now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of france -charge for the golden lilies,--upon them with the lance -a thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest -a thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest -and in they burst, and on they rushed, while like a guiding star -amid the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of navarre - -now, god be praised, the day is ours. mayenne hath turned his rein -d'aumale hath cried for quarter. the flemish count is slain -their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a biscay gale -the field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail -and then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van -but out spake gentle henry, "no frenchman is my foe -down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go -oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war -as our sovereign lord, king henry, the soldier of navarre - -right well fought all the frenchmen who fought for france to-day -and many a lordly banner god gave them for a prey -but we of the religion have borne us best in fight -and the good lord of rosny has ta'en the cornet white -our own true maximilian the cornet white hath ta'en -the cornet white with crosses black, the flag of false lorraine -up with it high; unfurl it wide; that all the host may know -how god hath humbled the proud house which wrought his church such woe -then on the ground, while trumpets sound their loudest points of war -fling the red shreds, a footcloth meet for henry of navarre - -ho! maidens of vienna; ho! matrons of lucerne -weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return -ho! philip, send, for charity, thy mexican pistoles -that antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearman's souls -ho! gallant nobles of the league, look that your arms be bright -ho! burghers of saint genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night -for our god hath crushed the tyrant, our god hath raised the slave -and mocked the counsel of the wise, the valour of the brave -then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories are -and glory to our sovereign lord, king henry of navarre - - - -incisive thrust at the vanity of "fair" women. a woman be a "true -knight" as well as a man. leigh hunt (1784-1859 - -king francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport -and one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court -the nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride -and 'mong them sat the count de lorge with one for whom he sighed -and truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show -valour, and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below - -ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing jaws -they bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind -went with their paws -with wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another -till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother -the bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air -said francis then, "faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there - -de lorge's love o'erheard the king,--a beauteous lively dame -with smiling lips and sharp, bright eyes, which always seem'd the same -she thought, "the count, my lover, is brave as brave can be -he surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me -king, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine -i'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine - -she dropped her glove, to prove his love, then look'd -at him and smiled -he bowed, and in a moment leapt among the lions wild -his leap was quick, return was quick, he has regain'd his place -then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face -from where he sat - - - -i found the well of st. keyne in cornwall, england--not the poem, but -the real well. the poem is of the great body of world-lore. southey - -a well there is in the west country -and a clearer one never was seen -there is not a wife in the west-country -but has heard of the well of st. keyne - -an oak and an elm tree stand beside -and behind does an ash tree grow -and a willow from the bank above -droops to the water below - -a traveller came to the well of st. keyne -pleasant it was to his eye -for from cock-crow he had been travelling -and there was not a cloud in the sky - -he drank of the water so cool and clear -for thirsty and hot was he -and he sat down upon the bank -under the willow tree - -there came a man from the neighbouring town -at the well to fill his pail -on the well-side he rested it -and bade the stranger hail - -the happiest draught thou hast drunk this day -that ever thou didst in thy life - -in cornwall ever been -for an if she have, i'll venture my life -she has drunk of the well of st. keyne - -the stranger he made reply -i pray you answer me why - -drank of this crystal well -and before the angel summoned her -she laid on the water a spell - -shall drink before his wife -a happy man thenceforth is he -for he shall be master for life - -god help the husband then -the stranger stoop'd to the well of st. keyne -and drank of the waters again - -he to the countryman said -but the countryman smiled as the stranger spake -and sheepishly shook his head - -and left my wife in the porch -but i' faith she had been wiser than me -for she took a bottle to church - - - -twelve-year-old girl who recited it at one of our poetry hours years -never read it without feeling that it stands test. anonymous - -the nautilus and the ammonite -were launched in friendly strife -each sent to float in its tiny boat -on the wide, wide sea of life - -for each could swim on the ocean's brim -and, when wearied, its sail could furl -and sink to sleep in the great sea-deep -in its palace all of pearl - -and theirs was a bliss more fair than this -which we taste in our colder clime -for they were rife in a tropic life -a brighter and better clime - -they swam 'mid isles whose summer smiles -were dimmed by no alloy -whose groves were palm, whose air was balm -and life one only joy - -they sailed all day through creek and bay -and traversed the ocean deep -and at night they sank on a coral bank -in its fairy bowers to sleep - -and the monsters vast of ages past -they beheld in their ocean caves -they saw them ride in their power and pride -and sink in their deep-sea graves - -and hand in hand, from strand to strand -they sailed in mirth and glee -these fairy shells, with their crystal cells -twin sisters of the sea - -and they came at last to a sea long past -but as they reached its shore -the almighty's breath spoke out in death -and the ammonite was no more - -so the nautilus now in its shelly prow -as over the deep it strays -still seems to seek, in bay and creek -its companion of other days - -and alike do we, on life's stormy sea -as we roam from shore to shore -thus tempest-tossed, seek the loved, the lost -and find them on earth no more - -yet the hope how sweet, again to meet -as we look to a distant strand -where heart meets heart, and no more they part -who meet in that better land - - - -i am monarch of all i survey -my right there is none to dispute -from the center all round to the sea -i am lord of the fowl and the brute -o solitude! where are the charms -that sages have seen in thy face -better dwell in the midst of alarms -than reign in this horrible place - -i am out of humanity's reach -i must finish my journey alone -never hear the sweet music of speech -i start at the sound of my own -the beasts that roam over the plain -my form with indifference see -they are so unacquainted with man -their tameness is shocking to me - -society, friendship, and love -divinely bestow'd upon man -oh, had i the wings of a dove -how soon would i taste you again -my sorrows i then might assuage -in the ways of religion and truth -might learn from the wisdom of age -and be cheer'd by the sallies of youth - -ye winds that have made me your sport -convey to this desolate shore -some cordial endearing report -of a land i shall visit no more - -my friends--do they now and then send -a wish or a thought after me -oh, tell me i yet have a friend -though a friend i am never to see - -how fleet is a glance of the mind -compared with the speed of its flight -the tempest itself lags behind -and the swift-wingèd arrows of light -when i think of my own native land -in a moment i seem to be there -but alas! recollection at hand -soon hurries me back to despair - -but the seafowl is gone to her nest -the beast is laid down in his lair -even here is a season of rest -and i to my cabin repair -there's mercy in every place -and mercy, encouraging thought -gives even affliction a grace -and reconciles man to his lot - - - -i wonder if the english people appreciate "the homes of england." it is -a stately poem worthy of a goethe or a shakespeare. england is -distinctively a country of homes, pretty, little, humble homes as well -as stately palaces and castles, homes well made of stone or brick for -the most part, and clad with ivy and roses. who would not be proud to -have had such a home as ann hathaway's humble cottage or one of the -little huts in the lake district? the homes of america are often more -palatial, especially in small cities, but the use of wood in america -makes them less substantial than the slate-and-brick houses of england - -the stately homes of england -how beautiful they stand -amidst their tall ancestral trees -o'er all the pleasant land -the deer across their greensward bound -through shade and sunny gleam -and the swan glides past them with the sound -of some rejoicing stream - -the merry homes of england -around their hearths by night -what gladsome looks of household love -meet in the ruddy light -there woman's voice flows forth in song -or childish tale is told -or lips move tunefully along -some glorious page of old - -the blessèd homes of england -how softly on their bowers -is laid the holy quietness -that breathes from sabbath hours -solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime -floats through their woods at morn -all other sounds, in that still time -of breeze and leaf are born - -the cottage homes of england -by thousands on her plains -they are smiling o'er the silvery brooks -and round the hamlets' fanes -through glowing orchards forth they peep -each from its nook of leaves -and fearless there the lowly sleep -as the bird beneath their eaves - -the free, fair homes of england -long, long, in hut and hall -may hearts of native proof be reared -to guard each hallowed wall -and green forever be the groves -and bright the flowery sod -where first the child's glad spirit loves -its country and its god - - - -but i never saw a boy who did not want some stanzas of it. "hold the -bridge with me!" boys like that motto instinctively. t.b. macaulay - -lars porsena of clusium -by the nine gods he swore -that the great house of tarquin -should suffer wrong no more -by the nine gods he swore it -and named a trysting-day -and bade his messengers ride forth -east and west and south and north -to summon his array - -east and west and south and north -the messengers ride fast -and tower and town and cottage -have heard the trumpet's blast -shame on the false etruscan -who lingers in his home -when porsena of clusium -is on the march for rome - -the horsemen and the footmen -are pouring in amain -from many a stately market-place -from many a fruitful plain -from many a lonely hamlet -which, hid by beech and pine -like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest -of purple apennine - -the harvests of arretium -this year, old men shall reap -this year, young boys in umbro -shall plunge the struggling sheep -and in the vats of luna -this year, the must shall foam -round the white feet of laughing girls -whose sires have marched to rome - -there be thirty chosen prophets -the wisest of the land -who alway by lars porsena -both morn and evening stand -evening and morn the thirty -have turned the verses o'er -traced from the right on linen white -by mighty seers of yore - -and with one voice the thirty -have their glad answer given -go forth, beloved of heaven -go, and return in glory -to clusium's royal dome -and hang round nurscia's altars -the golden shields of rome - -and now hath every city -sent up her tale of men -the foot are fourscore thousand -the horse are thousands ten -before the gates of sutrium -is met the great array -a proud man was lars porsena -upon the trysting-day - -for all the etruscan armies -were ranged beneath his eye -and many a banished roman -and many a stout ally -and with a mighty following -to join the muster came -the tusculan mamilius -prince of the latian name - -but by the yellow tiber -was tumult and affright -from all the spacious champaign -to rome men took their flight -a mile around the city -the throng stopped up the ways -a fearful sight it was to see -through two long nights and days - -now, from the rock tarpeian -could the wan burghers spy -the line of blazing villages -red in the midnight sky -the fathers of the city -they sat all night and day -for every hour some horseman came -with tidings of dismay - -to eastward and to westward -have spread the tuscan bands -nor house, nor fence, nor dovecot -in crustumerium stands -verbenna down to ostia -hath wasted all the plain -astur hath stormed janiculum -and the stout guards are slain - -i wis, in all the senate -there was no heart so bold -but sore it ached, and fast it beat -when that ill news was told -forthwith up rose the consul -up rose the fathers all -in haste they girded up their gowns -and hied them to the wall - -they held a council standing -before the river gate -short time was there, ye well may guess -for musing or debate -out spoke the consul roundly -for, since janiculum is lost -naught else can save the town - -just then a scout came flying -all wild with haste and fear -lars porsena is here -on the low hills to westward -the consul fixed his eye -and saw the swarthy storm of dust -rise fast along the sky - -and nearer, fast, and nearer -doth the red whirlwind come -and louder still, and still more loud -from underneath that rolling cloud -is heard the trumpet's war-note proud -the trampling and the hum -and plainly and more plainly -now through the gloom appears -far to left and far to right -in broken gleams of dark-blue light -the long array of helmets bright -the long array of spears - -and plainly and more plainly -above the glimmering line -now might ye see the banners -of twelve fair cities shine -but the banner of proud clusium -was the highest of them all -the terror of the umbrian -the terror of the gaul - -fast by the royal standard -o'erlooking all the war -lars porsena of clusium -sat in his ivory car -by the right wheel rode mamilius -prince of the latian name -and by the left false sextus -that wrought the deed of shame - -but when the face of sextus -was seen among the foes -a yell that rent the firmament -from all the town arose -on the house-tops was no woman -but spat toward him and hissed -no child but screamed out curses -and shook its little fist - -but the consul's brow was sad -and the consul's speech was low -and darkly looked he at the wall -and darkly at the foe -before the bridge goes down -and if they once may win the bridge -what hope to save the town - -then out spake brave horatius -the captain of the gate -death cometh soon or late -and how can man die better -than facing fearful odds -for the ashes of his fathers -and the temples of his gods - -who dandled him to rest -and for the wife who nurses -his baby at her breast -and for the holy maidens -who feed the eternal flame -to save them from false sextus -that wrought the deed of shame - -with all the speed ye may -i, with two more to help me -will hold the foe in play -in yon straight path a thousand -may well be stopped by three -now who will stand on either hand -and keep the bridge with me - -then out spake spurius lartius -a ramnian proud was he -i will stand at thy right hand -and keep the bridge with thee -and out spake strong herminius -of titian blood was he -and keep the bridge with thee - -and straight against that great array -forth went the dauntless three -for romans in rome's quarrel -spared neither land nor gold -nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life -in the brave days of old - -now while the three were tightening -their harness on their backs -the consul was the foremost man -to take in hand an ax -and fathers mixed with commons -seized hatchet, bar, and crow -and smote upon the planks above -and loosed the props below -meanwhile the tuscan army -right glorious to behold -came flashing back the noonday light -rank behind rank, like surges bright -of a broad sea of gold - -four hundred trumpets sounded -a peal of warlike glee -as that great host, with measured tread -and spears advanced, and ensigns spread -rolled slowly toward the bridge's head -where stood the dauntless three - -the three stood calm and silent -and looked upon the foes -and a great shout of laughter -from all the vanguard rose -and forth three chiefs came spurring -before that deep array -to earth they sprang, their swords they drew -and lifted high their shields, and flew -to win the narrow way - -aunus from green tifernum -lord of the hill of vines -and seius, whose eight hundred slaves -sicken in ilva's mines -and picus, long to clusium -vassal in peace and war -who led to fight his umbrian powers -from that gray crag where, girt with towers -the fortress of nequinum lowers -o'er the pale waves of nar - -stout lartius hurled down aunus -into the stream beneath -herminius struck at seius -and clove him to the teeth -at picus brave horatius -darted one fiery thrust -and the proud umbrian's gilded arms -clashed in the bloody dust - -then ocnus of falerii -rushed on the roman three -and lausulus of urgo -the rover of the sea -and aruns of volsinium -who slew the great wild boar -the great wild boar that had his den -amid the reeds of cosa's fen -and wasted fields and slaughtered men -along albinia's shore - -herminius smote down aruns -lartius laid ocnus low -right to the heart of lausulus -horatius sent a blow -no more, aghast and pale -from ostia's walls the crowd shall mark -the tracks of thy destroying bark -no more campania's hinds shall fly -to woods and caverns when they spy -thy thrice accurséd sail - -but now no sound of laughter -was heard among the foes -a wild and wrathful clamour -from all the vanguard rose -six spears' length from the entrance -halted that deep array -and for a space no man came forth -to win the narrow way - -but hark! the cry is astur -and lo! the ranks divide -and the great lord of luna -comes with his stately stride -upon his ample shoulders -clangs loud the fourfold shield -and in his hand he shakes the brand -which none but he can wield - -he smiled on those bold romans -a smile serene and high -he eyed the flinching tuscans -and scorn was in his eye -quoth he: "the she-wolf's litter -stand savagely at bay -but will ye dare to follow -if astur clears the way - -then, whirling up his broadsword -with both hands to the height -he rushed against horatius -and smote with all his might -with shield and blade horatius -right deftly turned the blow -the blow, though turned, came yet too nigh -it missed his helm, but gashed his thigh -the tuscans raised a joyful cry -to see the red blood flow - -he reeled, and on herminius -he leaned one breathing space -then, like a wildcat mad with wounds -sprang right at astur's face -through teeth, and skull, and helmet -so fierce a thrust he sped -the good sword stood a handbreadth out -behind the tuscan's head - -and the great lord of luna -fell at the deadly stroke -as falls on mount alvernus -a thunder-smitten oak -far o'er the crashing forest -the giant arms lie spread -and the pale augurs, muttering low -gaze on the blasted head - -on astur's throat horatius -right firmly pressed his heel -and thrice and four times tugged amain -ere he wrenched out the steel -fair guests, that waits you here -what noble lucumo comes next -to taste our roman cheer - -but at his haughty challenge -a sullen murmur ran -mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread -along that glittering van -there lacked not men of prowess -nor men of lordly race -for all etruria's noblest -were round the fatal place - -but all etruria's noblest -felt their hearts sink to see -on the earth the bloody corpses -in the path the dauntless three -and, from the ghastly entrance -where those bold romans stood -all shrank, like boys who unaware -ranging the woods to start a hare -come to the mouth of the dark lair -where, growling low, a fierce old bear -lies amid bones and blood - -was none who would be foremost -to lead such dire attack -but those behind cried "forward -and those before cried "back -and backward now and forward -wavers the deep array -and on the tossing sea of steel -to and fro the standards reel -and the victorious trumpet peal -dies fitfully away - -yet one man for one moment -strode out before the crowd -well known was he to all the three -and they gave him greeting loud -now welcome to thy home -why dost thou stay, and turn away -here lies the road to rome - -thrice looked he at the city -thrice looked he at the dead -and thrice came on in fury -and thrice turned back in dread -and, white with fear and hatred -scowled at the narrow way -where, wallowing in a pool of blood -the bravest tuscans lay - -but meanwhile ax and lever -have manfully been plied -and now the bridge hangs tottering -above the boiling tide -loud cried the fathers all -back, ere the ruin fall - -back darted spurius lartius -herminius darted back -and, as they passed, beneath their feet -they felt the timbers crack -but when they turned their faces -and on the farther shore -saw brave horatius stand alone -they would have crossed once more - -but with a crash like thunder -fell every loosened beam -and, like a dam, the mighty wreck -lay right athwart the stream -and a long shout of triumph -rose from the walls of rome -as to the highest turret tops -was splashed the yellow foam - -and, like a horse unbroken -when first he feels the rein -the furious river struggled hard -and tossed his tawny mane -and burst the curb, and bounded -rejoicing to be free -and whirling down, in fierce career -battlement, and plank, and pier -rushed headlong to the sea - -alone stood brave horatius -but constant still in mind -thrice thirty thousand foes before -and the broad flood behind -with a smile on his pale face - -round turned he, as not deigning -those craven ranks to see -naught spake he to lars porsena -to sextus naught spake he -but he saw on palatinus -the white porch of his home -and he spake to the noble river -that rolls by the towers of rome - -to whom the romans pray -a roman's life, a roman's arms -take thou in charge this day -so he spake, and speaking sheathed -the good sword by his side -and, with his harness on his back -plunged headlong in the tide - -no sound of joy or sorrow -was heard from either bank -but friends and foes in dumb surprise -with parted lips and straining eyes -stood gazing where he sank -and when above the surges -they saw his crest appear -all rome sent forth a rapturous cry -and even the ranks of tuscany -could scarce forbear to cheer - -and fiercely ran the current -swollen high by months of rain -and fast his blood was flowing -and he was sore in pain -and heavy with his armour -and spent with changing blows -and oft they thought him sinking -but still again he rose - -never, i ween, did swimmer -in such an evil case -struggle through such a raging flood -safe to the landing place -but his limbs were borne up bravely -by the brave heart within -and our good father tiber -bore bravely up his chin - -but for this stay, ere close of day -we should have sacked the town -for such a gallant feat of arms -was never seen before - -and now he feels the bottom -now on dry earth he stands -now round him throng the fathers -to press his gory hands -and now with shouts and clapping -and noise of weeping loud -he enters through the river gate -borne by the joyous crowd - -they gave him of the corn land -that was of public right -as much as two strong oxen -could plow from morn till night -and they made a molten image -and set it up on high -and there it stands unto this day -to witness if i lie - -it stands in the comitium -plain for all folk to see -horatius in his harness -halting upon one knee -and underneath is written -in letters all of gold -how valiantly he kept the bridge -in the brave days of old - -and still his name sounds stirring -unto the men of rome -as the trumpet blast that cries to them -to charge the volscian home -and wives still pray to juno -for boys with hearts as bold -as his who kept the bridge so well -in the brave days of old - -and in the nights of winter -when the cold north winds blow -and the long howling of the wolves -is heard amid the snow -when round the lonely cottage -roars loud the tempest's din -and the good logs of algidus -roar louder yet within - -when the oldest cask is opened -and the largest lamp is lit -when the chestnuts glow in the embers -and the kid turns on the spit -when young and old in circle -around the firebrands close -when the girls are weaving baskets -and the lads are shaping bows - -when the goodman mends his armour -and trims his helmet's plume -when the goodwife's shuttle merrily -goes flashing through the loom -with weeping and with laughter -still is the story told -how well horatius kept the bridge -in the brave days of old - - - -day" exercises. the planting of trees as against their destruction is a -vital point in our political and national welfare. william cullen -bryant (1794-1878 - -come, let us plant the apple-tree -cleave the tough greensward with the spade -wide let its hollow bed be made -there gently lay the roots, and there -sift the dark mould with kindly care -and press it o'er them tenderly -as round the sleeping infant's feet -we softly fold the cradle sheet -so plant we the apple-tree - -what plant we in this apple-tree -buds, which the breath of summer days -shall lengthen into leafy sprays -boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast -shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest -we plant, upon the sunny lea -a shadow for the noontide hour -a shelter from the summer shower -when we plant the apple-tree - -what plant we in this apple-tree -sweets for a hundred flowery springs -to load the may wind's restless wings -when, from the orchard row, he pours -its fragrance through our open doors -a world of blossoms for the bee -flowers for the sick girl's silent room -for the glad infant sprigs of bloom -we plant with the apple-tree - -what plant we in this apple-tree -fruits that shall swell in sunny june -and redden in the august noon -and drop, when gentle airs come by -that fan the blue september sky -while children come, with cries of glee -and seek them where the fragrant grass -betrays their bed to those who pass -at the foot of the apple-tree - -and when, above this apple-tree -the winter stars are quivering bright -the winds go howling through the night -girls, whose eyes o'erflow with mirth -shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth -and guests in prouder homes shall see -heaped with the grape of cintra's vine -and golden orange of the line -the fruit of the apple-tree - -the fruitage of this apple-tree -winds and our flag of stripe and star -shall bear to coasts that lie afar -where men shall wonder at the view -and ask in what fair groves they grew -and sojourners beyond the sea -shall think of childhood's careless day -and long, long hours of summer play -in the shade of the apple-tree - -each year shall give this apple-tree -a broader flush of roseate bloom -a deeper maze of verdurous gloom -and loosen, when the frost-clouds lower -the crisp brown leaves in thicker shower -the years shall come and pass, but we -shall hear no longer, where we lie -the summer's songs, the autumn's sigh -in the boughs of the apple-tree - -and time shall waste this apple-tree -oh, when its aged branches throw -thin shadows on the ground below -shall fraud and force and iron will -oppress the weak and helpless still -what shall the tasks of mercy be -amid the toils, the strifes, the tears -of those who live when length of years -is wasting this apple-tree - -the children of that distant day -thus to some aged man shall say -and, gazing on its mossy stem -the gray-haired man shall answer them -born in the rude but good old times -on planting the apple-tree - - - - -on and on - - -vision of sir launfal." it finds a place in this volume because it is -the most perfect description of a charming day ever written - -what is so rare as a day in june -then, if ever, come perfect days -then heaven tries the earth if it be in tune -and over it softly her warm ear lays -whether we look, or whether we listen -we hear life murmur, or see it glisten -every clod feels a stir of might -an instinct within it that reaches and towers -and, groping blindly above it for light -climbs to a soul in grass and flowers -the flush of life may well be seen -thrilling back over hills and valleys -the cowslip startles in meadows green -the buttercup catches the sun in its chalice -and there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean -to be some happy creature's palace -the little bird sits at his door in the sun -atilt like a blossom among the leaves -and lets his illumined being o'errun -with the deluge of summer it receives -his mate feels the eggs beneath her wings -and the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings -he sings to the wide world, and she to her nest -in the nice ear of nature which song is the best - - - - -laid up in heaven. it should be learned for its future value to the -child, not necessarily because the child likes it. its value will dawn -on him - -tell me not, in mournful numbers -life is but an empty dream -for the soul is dead that slumbers -and things are not what they seem - -life is real! life is earnest -and the grave is not its goal -dust thou art, to dust returnest -was not spoken of the soul - -not enjoyment, and not sorrow -is our destined end or way -but to act, that each to-morrow -find us farther than to-day - -art is long, and time is fleeting -and our hearts, though stout and brave -still, like muffled drums, are beating -funeral marches to the grave - -in the world's broad field of battle -in the bivouac of life -be not like dumb, driven cattle -be a hero in the strife - -trust no future, howe'er pleasant -let the dead past bury its dead -act,--act in the living present -heart within, and god o'erhead - -lives of great men all remind us -we can make our lives sublime -and, departing, leave behind us -footprints on the sands of time - -footprints, that perhaps another -sailing o'er life's solemn main -a forlorn and shipwrecked brother -seeing, shall take heart again - -let us, then, be up and doing -with a heart for any fate -still achieving, still pursuing -learn to labour and to wait - - - -connection with my lessons on natural history. we have a good specimen -of a barnacle, and the children see them on the shells on the coast -the ethical point is invaluable - -my soul is sailing through the sea -but the past is heavy and hindereth me -the past hath crusted cumbrous shells -that hold the flesh of cold sea-mells -about my soul -the huge waves wash, the high waves roll -each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole -and hindereth me from sailing - -old past, let go, and drop i' the sea -till fathomless waters cover thee -for i am living, but thou art dead -thou drawest back, i strive ahead -the day to find -thy shells unbind! night comes behind -i needs must hurry with the wind -and trim me best for sailing - - - -how happy is he born and taught -that serveth not another's will -whose armour is his honest thought -and simple truth his utmost skill - -whose passions not his master's are -whose soul is still prepared for death -not tied unto the world with care -of public fame, or private breath - - - -reaches into the heart. what is home? a place where we experience -independence, safety, privacy, and where we can dispense hospitality - -be it ever so humble, there's no place like home -a charm from the sky seems to hallow us there -which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere -home! home! sweet, sweet home -there's no place like home! there's no place like home - -an exile from home, splendour dazzles in vain -o, give me my lowly thatched cottage again -the birds singing gaily, that came at my call -give me them,--and the peace of mind, dearer than all -home! home! sweet, sweet home -there's no place like home! there's no place like home - -how sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile -and the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile -let others delight 'mid new pleasures to roam -but give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home -home! home! sweet, sweet home -there's no place like home! there's no place like home - -to thee i'll return, overburdened with care -the heart's dearest solace will smile on me there -no more from that cottage again will i roam -be it ever so humble, there's no place like home -home! home! sweet, sweet home -there's no place like home! there's no place like home - - - - -i heard last night a little child go singing -the same words still on notes he went in search -so high for, you concluded the upspringing -of such a nimble bird to sky from perch -must leave the whole bush in a tremble green -and that the heart of italy must beat -while such a voice had leave to rise serene -a little child, too, who not long had been -by mother's finger steadied on his feet -and still _o bella libertà_ he sang - - - -in this collection because i have loved it all my life, and i never -knew any one who could or would offer a criticism upon it. its value -lies in its recognition of childhood's pleasures - -woodman, spare that tree -touch not a single bough -in youth it sheltered me -and i'll protect it now -that placed it near his cot -there, woodman, let it stand -thy ax shall harm it not - -that old familiar tree -whose glory and renown -are spread o'er land and sea -and wouldst thou hew it down -woodman, forbear thy stroke -cut not its earth-bound ties -oh, spare that agèd oak -now towering to the skies - -when but an idle boy -i sought its grateful shade -in all their gushing joy -here, too, my sisters played -my mother kissed me here -my father pressed my hand -forgive this foolish tear -but let that old oak stand - -my heart-strings round thee cling -close as thy bark, old friend -here shall the wild-bird sing -and still thy branches bend -old tree! the storm still brave -and, woodman, leave the spot -while i've a hand to save -thy ax shall harm it not - - - -longing for the unchanging and to our love of security - -abide with me! fast falls the eventide -the darkness deepens; lord, with me abide -when other helpers fail, and comforts flee -help of the helpless, o abide with me - -swift to its close ebbs out life's little day -earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away -change and decay in all around i see -o thou who changest not, abide with me - - - -cardinal newman was in the stress and strain of perplexity and mental -distress and bodily pain. the poem has been a star in the darkness to -thousands. it was the favourite poem of president mckinley - -lead, kindly light, amid th' encircling gloom -lead thou me on -the night is dark, and i am far from home -lead thou me on -keep thou my feet; i do not ask to see -the distant scene; one step enough for me - -i was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou -shouldst lead me on -i loved to choose and see my path; but now -lead thou me on -i loved the garish day; and, spite of fears -pride ruled my will: remember not past years - -so long thy power hath blest me, sure it still -will lead me on -o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till -the night is gone -and with the morn those angel faces smile -which i have loved long since, and lost a while - - - -left blooming alone -all her lovely companions -are faded and gone -no flower of her kindred -no rose-bud is nigh -to reflect back her blushes -or give sigh for sigh - -i'll not leave thee, thou lone one -to pine on the stem -since the lovely are sleeping -go, sleep thou with them -thus kindly i scatter -thy leaves o'er the bed -where thy mates of the garden -lie scentless and dead - -so soon may i follow -when friendships decay -and from love's shining circle -the gems drop away -when true hearts lie withered -and fond ones are flown -o! who would inhabit -this bleak world alone - - - -popular song on earth. written by william douglas - -maxwelton braes are bonnie -where early fa's the dew -and it's there that annie laurie -gie'd me her promise true -gie'd me her promise true -which ne'er forgot will be -and for bonnie annie laurie -i'd lay me doune and dee - -her brow is like the snawdrift -her throat is like the swan -her face it is the fairest -that e'er the sun shone on -that e'er the sun shone on -and dark blue is her e'e -and for bonnie annie laurie -i'd lay me doune and dee - -like dew on the gowan lying -is the fa' o' her fairy feet -like the winds in summer sighing -her voice is low and sweet -her voice is low and sweet -and she's a' the world to me -and for bonnie annie laurie -i'd lay me doune and dee - - - -a president of a well-known college writes me that "the ship of state -was his favourite poem when he was a boy, and did more than any other -to shape his course in life. longfellow (1807-82 - -sail on, sail on, o ship of state -sail on, o union, strong and great -humanity, with all its fears -with all the hopes of future years -is hanging breathless on thy fate -we know what master laid thy keel -what workmen wrought thy ribs of steel -who made each mast, and sail, and rope -what anvils rang, what hammers beat -in what a forge and what a heat -were forged the anchors of thy hope -fear not each sudden sound and shock -and not a rent made by the gale -in spite of rock, and tempest roar -in spite of false lights on the shore -sail on, nor fear to breast the sea -our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee -our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears -our faith, triumphant o'er our fears -are all with thee, are all with thee - - -the constitution and laws are here personified, and addressed as "the -ship of state - - -poem, regardless of the fact that every american who can sing it ought -to know it, that he may join in the chorus when patriotic celebrations -call for it. my boys love to repeat the entire poem, but i often find -masses of people trying to sing it, knowing only one stanza. it is our -national anthem, and a part of our education to know every word of it - -my country, 'tis of thee -sweet land of liberty -of thee i sing -land where my fathers died -land of the pilgrims' pride -from every mountain side -let freedom ring - -my native country, thee -land of the noble free -thy name i love -i love thy rocks and rills -thy woods and templed hills -my heart with rapture thrills -like that above - -let music swell the breeze -and ring from all the trees -sweet freedom's song -let mortal tongues awake -let all that breathe partake -let rocks their silence break -the sound prolong - -our fathers' god, to thee -author of liberty -to thee we sing -long may our land be bright -with freedom's holy light -protect us by thy might -great god, our king - - - -that children want when they study the early history of america - -the breaking waves dashed high -on a stern and rock-bound coast -and the woods against a stormy sky -their giant branches tossed - -and the heavy night hung dark -the hills and waters o'er -when a band of exiles moored their bark -on the wild new england shore - -not as the conqueror comes -they, the true-hearted, came -not with the roll of the stirring drums -and the trumpet that sings of fame - -not as the flying come -in silence and in fear -they shook the depths of the desert gloom -with their hymns of lofty cheer - -amid the storm they sang -and the stars heard, and the sea -and the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang -to the anthem of the free - -the ocean eagle soared -from his nest by the white wave's foam -and the rocking pines of the forest roared -this was their welcome home - -there were men with hoary hair -amid that pilgrim band -why had _they_ come to wither there -away from their childhood's land - -there was woman's fearless eye -lit by her deep love's truth -there was manhood's brow serenely high -and the fiery heart of youth - -what sought they thus afar -bright jewels of the mine -the wealth of seas, the spoils of war -they sought a faith's pure shrine - -ay! call it holy ground -the soil where first they trod -they have left unstained what there they found -freedom to worship god - - - -the main idea in "the lotos-eaters" is, are we justified in running -away from unpleasant duties? or, is insensibility justifiable - -laddie, do you recollect learning this poem after we had read the story -of "odysseus"? "the struggle of the soul urged to action, but held back -by the spirit of self-indulgence." these were the points we discussed -alfred tennyson (1809-92 - -in the afternoon they came unto a land -in which it seemed always afternoon -all round the coast the languid air did swoon -breathing like one that hath a weary dream -full-faced above the valley stood the moon -and like a downward smoke, the slender stream -along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem - -a land of streams! some, like a downward smoke -slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go -and some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke -rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below -they saw the gleaming river seaward flow -from the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops -three silent pinnacles of agèd snow -stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops -up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse - -the charmèd sunset linger'd low adown -in the red west: thro' mountain clefts the dale -was seen far inland, and the yellow down -border'd with palm, and many a winding vale -and meadow, set with slender galingale -a land where all things always seem'd the same -and round about the keel with faces pale -dark faces pale against that rosy flame -the mild-eyed melancholy lotos-eaters came - -branches they bore of that enchanted stem -laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave -to each, but whoso did receive of them -and taste, to him the gushing of the wave -far, far away did seem to mourn and rave -on alien shores; and if his fellow spake -his voice was thin, as voices from the grave -and deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake -and music in his ears his beating heart did make - -they sat them down upon the yellow sand -between the sun and moon upon the shore -and sweet it was to dream of fatherland -of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore -most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar -weary the wandering fields of barren foam -then some one said, "we will return no more -and all at once they sang, "our island home -is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam - - - -presentation of the value of integrity. this poem ranks with "sir -galahad," if not above it. it is a stroke of genius, and every american -ought to be proud of it. every time my boys read "odysseus" or the -story of ulysses with me we read or learn "moly." the plant moly grows -in the united states as well as in europe - -traveller, pluck a stem of moly -if thou touch at circe's isle -hermes' moly, growing solely -to undo enchanter's wile -when she proffers thee her chalice -wine and spices mixed with malice -when she smites thee with her staff -to transform thee, do thou laugh -safe thou art if thou but bear -the least leaf of moly rare -close it grows beside her portal -springing from a stock immortal -yes! and often has the witch -sought to tear it from its niche -but to thwart her cruel will -the wise god renews it still -though it grows in soil perverse -heaven hath been its jealous nurse -and a flower of snowy mark -springs from root and sheathing dark -kingly safeguard, only herb -that can brutish passion curb -some do think its name should be -shield-heart, white integrity -traveller, pluck a stem of moly -if thou touch at circe's isle -hermes' moly, growing solely -to undo enchanter's wile - - - -my campasbe" (1558-1606) are three dainty poems recommended by mrs -margaret mooney, of the albany teachers' college, in her "foundation -studies in literature." children are always delighted with them - -t'other day as i was twining -roses, for a crown to dine in -what, of all things, 'mid the heap -should i light on, fast asleep -but the little desperate elf -the tiny traitor, love, himself -by the wings i picked him up -like a bee, and in a cup -of my wine i plunged and sank him -then what d'ye think i did?--i drank him -faith, i thought him dead. not he -there he lives with tenfold glee -and now this moment with his wings -i feel him tickling my heart-strings - - - -cupid once upon a bed -of roses laid his weary head -luckless urchin, not to see -within the leaves a slumbering bee -the bee awak'd--with anger wild -the bee awak'd, and stung the child -loud and piteous are his cries -to venus quick he runs, he flies -i die with pain--in sooth i do -stung by some little angry thing -some serpent on a tiny wing -a bee it was--for once, i know -i heard a rustic call it so -thus he spoke, and she the while -heard him with a soothing smile -then said, "my infant, if so much -thou feel the little wild bee's touch -how must the heart, ah, cupid! be -the hapless heart that's stung by thee - - - -cupid and my campasbe played -at cards for kisses. cupid paid -he stakes his quiver, bow and arrows -his mother's doves and team of sparrows -loses them, too; then down he throws -the coral of his lips, the rose -growing on his cheek, but none knows how -with them the crystal of his brow -and then the dimple of his chin -all these did my campasbe win -at last he set her both his eyes -she won and cupid blind did rise -oh, love, hath she done this to thee -what shall, alas, become of me - - - -violo roseboro, one of our good authors, brought to me "a ballad for a -boy," saying: "i believe it is one of the poems that every child ought -to know." it is included in this compilation out of respect to her -opinion and also because the boys to whom i have read it said it was -to settle their own disputes by a hand-to-hand fight, but they will -always help each other when a third party or the elements interfere -humanity is greater than human interests - -when george the third was reigning, a hundred years ago -he ordered captain farmer to chase the foreign foe -so cruise about the west of france in the frigate called _quebec - -king george the second sent a man called general wolfe, you know -to clamber up a precipice and look into quebec -as you'd look down a hatchway when standing on the deck - -before he got inside the town he died, i must allow -but since the town was won for us it is a lucky name -and you'll remember wolfe's good work, and you shall do the same - -then farmer said, "i'll try, sir," and farmer bowed so low -that george could see his pigtail tied in a velvet bow -george gave him his commission, and that it might be safer -signed "king of britain, king of france," and sealed it with a wafer - -then proud was captain farmer in a frigate of his own -and grander on his quarter-deck than george upon his throne -he'd two guns in his cabin, and on the spar-deck ten -and twenty on the gun-deck, and more than ten-score men - -and as a huntsman scours the brakes with sixteen brace of dogs -with two-and-thirty cannon the ship explored the fogs -from cape la hogue to ushant, from rochefort to belleisle -she hunted game till reef and mud were rubbing on her keel - -the fogs are dried, the frigate's side is bright with melting tar -the lad up in the foretop sees square white sails afar -the east wind drives three square-sailed masts from out the breton bay -and "clear for action!" farmer shouts, and reefers yell "hooray - -the frenchmen's captain had a name i wish i could pronounce -a breton gentleman was he, and wholly free from bounce -one like those famous fellows who died by guillotine -for honour and the fleur-de-lys, and antoinette the queen - -the catholic for louis, the protestant for george -each captain drew as bright a sword as saintly smiths could forge -and both were simple seamen, but both could understand -how each was bound to win or die for flag and native land - -the french ship was _la surveillante_, which means the watchful maid -she folded up her head-dress and began to cannonade -her hull was clean, and ours was foul; we had to spread more sail -on canvas, stays, and topsail yards her bullets came like hail - -sore smitten were both captains, and many lads beside -and still to cut our rigging the foreign gunners tried -a sail-clad spar came flapping down athwart a blazing gun -we could not quench the rushing flames, and so the frenchman won - -our quarter-deck was crowded, the waist was all aglow -men hung upon the taffrail half scorched, but loth to go -our captain sat where once he stood, and would not quit his chair -he bade his comrades leap for life, and leave him bleeding there - -the guns were hushed on either side, the frenchmen lowered boats -they flung us planks and hen-coops, and everything that floats -they risked their lives, good fellows! to bring their rivals aid -twas by the conflagration the peace was strangely made - -they had to dodge the east wind to reach the port of brest -and where the waves leapt lower and the riddled ship went slower -in triumph, yet in funeral guise, came fisher-boats to tow her - -they dealt with us as brethren, they mourned for farmer dead -and as the wounded captives passed each breton bowed the head -then spoke the french lieutenant, "twas fire that won, not we -you never struck your flag to us; you'll go to england free - -twas the sixth day of october, seventeen hundred seventy-nine -a year when nations ventured against us to combine -but thanks be to the french book wherein they're not forgot - -now you, if you've to fight the french, my youngster, bear in mind -those seamen of king louis so chivalrous and kind -think of the breton gentlemen who took our lads to brest -and treat some rescued breton as a comrade and a guest - - -it pure literature and good history - -who, with thy hollow breast -still in rude armour drest -comest to daunt me -wrapt not in eastern balms -but with thy fleshless palms -stretched, as if asking alms -why dost thou haunt me - -then from those cavernous eyes -pale flashes seemed to rise -as when the northern skies -gleam in december -and, like the water's flow -under december's snow -came a dull voice of woe -from the heart's chamber - -my deeds, though manifold -no skald in song has told -no saga taught thee -take heed that in thy verse -thou dost the tale rehearse -else dread a dead man's curse -for this i sought thee - -by the wild baltic's strand -i, with my childish hand -tamed the gerfalcon -and, with my skates fast-bound -skimmed the half-frozen sound -that the poor whimpering hound -trembled to walk on - -tracked i the grizzly bear -while from my path the hare -fled like a shadow -oft through the forest dark -followed the were-wolf's bark -until the soaring lark -sang from the meadow - -joining a corsair's crew -o'er the dark sea i flew -with the marauders -wild was the life we led -many the souls that sped -many the hearts that bled -by our stern orders - -wore the long winter out -often our midnight shout -set the cocks crowing -as we the berserk's tale -measured in cups of ale -draining the oaken pail -filled to overflowing - -tales of the stormy sea -soft eyes did gaze on me -burning yet tender -and as the white stars shine -on the dark norway pine -on that dark heart of mine -fell their soft splendour - -yielding, yet half afraid -and in the forest's shade -our vows were plighted -under its loosened vest -fluttered her little breast -like birds within their nest -by the hawk frighted - -shields gleamed upon the wall -loud sang the minstrels all -chanting his glory -when of old hildebrand -i asked his daughter's hand -mute did the minstrels stand -to hear my story - -loud then the champion laughed -and as the wind-gusts waft -the sea-foam brightly -so the loud laugh of scorn -out of those lips unshorn -from the deep drinking-horn -blew the foam lightly - -i but a viking wild -and though she blushed and smiled -i was discarded -should not the dove so white -follow the sea-mew's flight -why did they leave that night -her nest unguarded - -bearing the maid with me -fairest of all was she -among the norsemen -when on the white sea-strand -waving his armed hand -saw we old hildebrand -with twenty horsemen - -bent like a reed each mast -yet we were gaining fast -when the wind failed us -and with a sudden flaw -came round the gusty skaw -so that our foe we saw -laugh as he hailed us - -round veered the flapping sail -midships with iron keel -struck we her ribs of steel -down her black hulk did reel -through the black water - -sails the fierce cormorant -seeking some rocky haunt -with his prey laden -so toward the open main -beating to sea again -through the wild hurricane -bore i the maiden - -and when the storm was o'er -cloud-like we saw the shore -stretching to leeward -there for my lady's bower -built i the lofty tower -which to this very hour -stands looking seaward - -time dried the maiden's tears -she had forgot her fears -she was a mother -death closed her mild blue eyes -under that tower she lies -ne'er shall the sun arise -on such another - -still as a stagnant fen -hateful to me were men -the sunlight hateful -in the vast forest here -clad in my warlike gear -fell i upon my spear -oh, death was grateful - -bursting these prison bars -up to its native stars -my soul ascended -there from the flowing bowl -deep drinks the warrior's soul -thus the tale ended - - - - -tennyson's (1807-92) "the _revenge_" finds a welcome here because it is -a favourite with teachers of elocution and their audiences. it teaches -us to hold life cheap when the nation's safety is at stake - -at flores in the azores sir richard grenville lay -and a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying from away -then sware lord thomas howard: "'fore god, i am no coward -but i cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear -and the half my men are sick. i must fly, but follow quick -we are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three - -then spake sir richard grenville: "i know you are no coward -you fly them for a moment, to fight with them again -but i've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore -i should count myself the coward if i left them, my lord howard -to these inquisition dogs and the devildoms of spain - -so lord howard passed away with five ships of war that day -till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven -but sir richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land -very carefully and slow -men of bideford in devon -and we laid them on the ballast down below -for we brought them all aboard -and they blest him in their pain that they were not left to spain -to the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the lord - -he had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight -and he sail'd away from flores till the spaniard came in sight -with his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow -good sir richard, tell us now -for to fight is but to die - -and sir richard said again: "we be all good englishmen -let us bang these dogs of seville, the children of the devil -for i never turn'd my back upon don or devil yet - -sir richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so -the little _revenge_ ran on sheer into the heart of the foe -with her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below -for half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen -and the little _revenge_ ran on thro' the long sea-lane between - -thousands of their soldiers looked down from their decks and laugh'd -thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft -running on and on, till delay'd -by their mountain-like _san philip_ that, of fifteen hundred tons -and up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns -took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd - -and while now the great _san philip_ hung above us like a cloud -whence the thunderbolt will fall -long and loud -four galleons drew away -from the spanish fleet that day -and two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay -and the battle-thunder broke from them all - -but anon the great _san philip_, she bethought herself and went -having that within her womb that had left her ill content -and the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand -for a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers -and a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears -when he leaps from the water to the land - -and the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea -but never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three -ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came -ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder -and flame -ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead -and her shame -for some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could -fight us no more -god of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before - -for he said, "fight on! fight on -tho' his vessel was all but a wreck -and it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was gone -with a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck -but a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead -and himself he was wounded again in the side and the head -and he said, "fight on! fight on - -and the night went down, and the sun smiled out far -over the summer sea -and the spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring -but they dared not touch us again, for they fear'd that -we still could sting -so they watched what the end would be -and we had not fought them in vain -but in perilous plight were we -seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain -and half of the rest of us maim'd for life -in the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife -and the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold -and the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was -all of it spent -and the masts and the rigging were lying over the side -but sir richard cried in his english pride -as may never be fought again -we have won great glory, my men -and a day less or more -at sea or ashore -we die--does it matter when -sink me the ship, master gunner--sink her, split her in twain -fall into the hands of god, not into the hands of spain - -and the gunner said. "ay, ay," but the seamen made reply -and the lord hath spared our lives -we will make the spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go -we shall live to fight again, and to strike another blow -and the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe -and the stately spanish men to their flagship bore him then -where they laid him by the mast, old sir richard caught at last -and they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace -but he rose upon their decks, and he cried -i have only done my duty as a man is bound to do -with a joyful spirit i, sir richard grenville, die -and he fell upon their decks, and he died - -and they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true -and had holden the power and glory of spain so cheap -that he dared her with one little ship and his english few -was he devil or man? he was devil for aught they knew -but they sank his body with honour down into the deep -and they mann'd the _revenge_ with a swarthier alien crew -and away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own -when a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep -and the water began to heave and the weather to moan -and or ever that evening ended a great gale blew -and a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew -till it smote on their hulls, and their sails, and their masts -and their flags -and the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of spain -and the little _revenge_ herself went down by the island crags -to be lost evermore in the main - - - -sir galahad is the most moral and upright of all the knights of the -round table. the strong lines of the poem (tennyson, 1809-92) are the -strong lines of human destiny - -because my heart is pure - -my good blade carves the casques of men -my tough lance thrusteth sure -my strength is as the strength of ten -because my heart is pure -the shattering trumpet shrilleth high -the hard brands shiver on the steel -the splintered spear-shafts crack and fly -the horse and rider reel -they reel, they roll in clanging lists -and when the tide of combat stands -perfume and flowers fall in showers -that lightly rain from ladies' hands - -how sweet are looks that ladies bend -on whom their favours fall -for them i battle till the end -to save from shame and thrall -but all my heart is drawn above -my knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine -i never felt the kiss of love -nor maiden's hand in mine -more bounteous aspects on me beam -me mightier transports move and thrill -so keep i fair thro' faith and prayer -a virgin heart in work and will - -when down the stormy crescent goes -a light before me swims -between dark stems the forest glows -i hear a noise of hymns -then by some secret shrine i ride -i hear a voice, but none are there -the stalls are void, the doors are wide -the tapers burning fair -fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth -the silver vessels sparkle clean -the shrill bell rings, the censer swings -and solemn chaunts resound between - -sometimes on lonely mountain-meres -i find a magic bark -i leap on board: no helmsman steers -i float till all is dark -a gentle sound, an awful light -three angels bear the holy grail -with folded feet, in stoles of white -on sleeping wings they sail -ah, blessèd vision! blood of god -my spirit beats her mortal bars -as down dark tides the glory slides -and star-like mingles with the stars - -when on my goodly charger borne -thro' dreaming towns i go -the cock crows ere the christmas morn -the streets are dumb with snow -the tempest crackles on the leads -and, ringing, springs from brand and mail -but o'er the dark a glory spreads -and gilds the driving hail -i leave the plain, i climb the height -no branchy thicket shelter yields -but blessèd forms in whistling storms -fly o'er waste fens and windy fields - -a maiden knight--to me is given -such hope, i know not fear -i yearn to breathe the airs of heaven -that often meet me here -i muse on joy that will not cease -pure spaces cloth'd in living beams -pure lilies of eternal peace -whose odours haunt my dreams -and, stricken by an angel's hand -this mortal armour that i wear -this weight and size, this heart and eyes -are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air - -the clouds are broken in the sky -and thro' the mountain-walls -a rolling organ-harmony -swells up, and shakes and falls -then move the trees, the copses nod -wings flutter, voices hover clear -ride on! the prize is near -so pass i hostel, hall, and grange -by bridge and ford, by park and pale -all-arm'd i ride, whate'er betide -until i find the holy grail - - - -correct our ready overestimate of our own importance - -alone i walked the ocean strand -a pearly shell was in my hand -i stooped and wrote upon the sand -my name--the year--the day -as onward from the spot i passed -one lingering look behind i cast -a wave came rolling high and fast -and washed my lines away - -and so, methought, 'twill shortly be -with every mark on earth from me -a wave of dark oblivion's sea -will sweep across the place -where i have trod the sandy shore -of time, and been, to be no more -of me--my day--the name i bore -to leave nor track nor trace - -and yet, with him who counts the sands -and holds the waters in his hands -i know a lasting record stands -inscribed against my name -of all this mortal part has wrought -of all this thinking soul has thought -and from these fleeting moments caught -for glory or for shame - - - - -the best is yet to be -the last of life, for which the first was made - - -attractive as years go on. the line in this poem that captivated my -youthful fancy was - - -the delight with which trees hang out their new little tassels every -year is one of the charms of "the pine family." john burroughs sent us -down a tiny hemlock, that grew in our window-box at school for five -years, and every spring it was a new joy on account of the fine, tender -tassels. mrs. hemans had a vivid imagination backed up by an abundant -information - -i come, i come! ye have called me long -i come o'er the mountains, with light and song -ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth -by the winds which tell of the violet's birth -by the primrose stars in the shadowy grass -by the green leaves opening as i pass - -i have breathed on the south, and the chestnut-flowers -by thousands have burst from the forest bowers -and the ancient graves and the fallen fanes -are veiled with wreaths on italian plains -but it is not for me, in my hour of bloom -to speak of the ruin or the tomb - -i have looked o'er the hills of the stormy north -and the larch has hung all his tassels forth -the fisher is out on the sunny sea -and the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free -and the pine has a fringe of softer green -and the moss looks bright, where my step has been - -i have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh -and called out each voice of the deep blue sky -from the night-bird's lay through the starry time -in the groves of the soft hesperian clime -to the swan's wild note by the iceland lakes -when the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks - -from the streams and founts i have loosed the chain -they are sweeping on to the silvery main -they are flashing down from the mountain brows -they are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs -they are bursting fresh from their sparry caves -and the earth resounds with the joy of waves - - - -not expect children to appreciate fully, even when they care enough for -it to learn it. it is too long for most children to commit to memory -and i generally assign one stanza to one pupil and another to another -pupil until it is divided up among them. the poem is a masterpiece -doubtless the poet meant to show that the forsaken merman had a greater -soul to save than the woman who sought to save her soul by deserting -natural duty. salvation does not come through the faith that builds -itself at the expense of love - -come, dear children, let us away -down and away below -now my brothers call from the bay -now the great winds shoreward blow -now the salt tides seaward flow -now the wild white horses play -champ and chafe and toss in the spray -children dear, let us away -this way, this way - -call her once before you go -call once yet -in a voice that she will know -children's voices should be dear -children's voices, wild with pain -surely she will come again -call her once and come away -this way, this way -the wild white horses foam and fret -margaret! margaret - -come, dear children, come away down -call no more -one last look at the white-wall'd town -and the little gray church on the windy shore -then come down -she will not come though you call all day -come away, come away - -children dear, was it yesterday -we heard the sweet bells over the bay -in the caverns where we lay -through the surf and through the swell -the far-off sound of a silver bell -sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep -where the winds are all asleep -where the spent lights quiver and gleam -where the salt weed sways in the stream -where the sea-beasts, ranged all round -feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground -where the sea-snakes coil and twine -dry their mail and bask in the brine -where great whales come sailing by -sail and sail, with unshut eye -round the world forever and aye -when did music come this way -children dear, was it yesterday - -children dear, was it yesterday -once she sate with you and me -on a red gold throne in the heart of the sea -and the youngest sate on her knee -she comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well -when down swung the sound of a far-off bell -she sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea -she said: "i must go, for my kinsfolk pray -in the little gray church on the shore to-day -and i lose my poor soul, merman! here with thee -i said: "go up, dear heart, through the waves -say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves -she smil'd, she went up through the surf in the bay -children dear, was it yesterday - -children dear, were we long alone -long prayers," i said, "in the world they say -come!" i said; and we rose through the surf in the bay -we went up the beach, by the sandy down -where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town -through the narrow pav'd streets, where all was still -to the little gray church on the windy hill -from the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers -but we stood without in the cold blowing airs -we climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains -and we gaz'd up the aisle through the small leaded panes -she sate by the pillar; we saw her clear -dear heart," i said, "we are long alone -the sea grows stormy, the little ones moan -but, ah, she gave me never a look -for her eyes were seal'd to the holy book -loud prays the priest: shut stands the door -come away, children, call no more -come away, come down, call no more - -down, down, down -down to the depths of the sea -she sits at her wheel in the humming town -singing most joyfully -hark what she sings: "o joy, o joy -for the humming street, and the child with its toy -for the priest, and the bell, and the holy well -for the wheel where i spun -and the blessèd light of the sun -and so she sings her fill -singing most joyfully -till the spindle drops from her hand -and the whizzing wheel stands still -she steals to the window, and looks at the sand -and over the sand at the sea -and her eyes are set in a stare -and anon there breaks a sigh -and anon there drops a tear -from a sorrow-clouded eye -and a heart sorrow-laden -a long, long sigh -for the cold strange eyes of a little mermaiden -and the gleam of her golden hair - -come away, away, children -come, children, come down -the hoarse wind blows colder -lights shine in the town -she will start from her slumber -when gusts shake the door -she will hear the winds howling -will hear the waves roar -we shall see, while above us -the waves roar and whirl -a ceiling of amber -a pavement of pearl -singing: "here came a mortal -but faithless was she -and alone dwell forever -the kings of the sea - -but, children, at midnight -when soft the winds blow -when clear falls the moonlight -when spring-tides are low -when sweet airs come seaward -from heaths starr'd with broom -and high rocks throw mildly -on the blanch'd sands a gloom -up the still, glistening beaches -up the creeks we will hie -over banks of bright seaweed -the ebb-tide leaves dry -we will gaze, from the sand-hills -at the white, sleeping town -at the church on the hill-side -and then come back down -singing: "there dwells a lov'd one -but cruel is she -she left lonely forever -the kings of the sea - - - -southwestern part of scotland. robert burns's old home it close to it -the house has low walls, a thatched roof, and only two rooms. alloway -kirk and the two bridges so famous in robert burns's verse are near by -this is an enchanted land, and the scotch people for miles around ayr -speak of the poet with sincere affection. burns, more than any other -poet, has thrown the enchantment of poetry over his own locality - -ye banks and braes o' bonnie doon -how can ye blume sae fair -how can ye chant, ye little birds -and i sae fu' o' care - -thou'lt break my heart, thou bonnie bird -that sings upon the bough -thou minds me o' the happy days -when my fause luve was true - -thou'lt break my heart, thou bonnie bird -that sings beside thy mate -for sae i sat, and sae i sang -and wist na o' my fate - -aft hae i rov'd by bonnie doon -to see the woodbine twine -and ilka bird sang o' its love -and sae did i o' mine - -wi' lightsome heart i pu'd a rose -frae off its thorny tree -and my fause luver staw the rose -but left the thorn wi' me - - - -oft in the stilly night -ere slumber's chain has bound me -fond memory brings the light -of other days around me -the smiles, the tears -of boyhood's years -the words of love then spoken -the eyes that shone -now dimmed and gone -the cheerful hearts now broken -thus in the stilly night -ere slumber's chain has bound me -sad memory brings the light -of other days around me - -when i remember all -the friends so link'd together -i've seen around me fall -like leaves in wintry weather -i feel like one -who treads alone -some banquet-hall deserted -whose lights are fled -whose garlands dead -and all but he departed -thus in the stilly night -ere slumber's chain has bound me -sad memory brings the light -of other days around me - - - -if john burroughs (1837-) had never written any other poem than "my own -shall come to me," he would have stood to all ages as one of the -greatest of american poets. the poem is most characteristic of the -tall, majestic, slow-going poet and naturalist. there is no greater -line in greek or english literature than - - -serene i fold my hands and wait -nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea -i rave no more 'gainst time or fate -for lo! my own shall come to me - -i stay my haste, i make delays -for what avails this eager pace -i stand amid the eternal ways -and what is mine shall know my face - -asleep, awake, by night or day -the friends i seek are seeking me -no wind can drive my bark astray -nor change the tide of destiny - -what matter if i stand alone -i wait with joy the coming years -my heart shall reap when it has sown -and gather up its fruit of tears - -the stars come nightly to the sky -the tidal wave comes to the sea -nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high -can keep my own away from me - -the waters know their own and draw -the brook that springs in yonder heights -so flows the good with equal law -unto the soul of pure delights - - - -assigned to "grammar grades" of schools. it is included here out of -respect to a boy of eleven years who was more impressed with these -lines than with any other lines in any poem - -in the light of thought -singing songs unbidden -till the world is wrought -to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not - -hail to thee, blithe spirit -bird thou never wert -that from heaven or near it -pourest thy full heart -in profuse strains of unpremeditated art - -higher still and higher -from the earth thou springest -like a cloud of fire -the blue deep thou wingest -and singing still dost soar and soaring ever singest - -in the golden lightning -of the sunken sun -o'er which clouds are brightening -thou dost float and run -like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun - -the pale purple even -melts around thy flight -like a star of heaven -in the broad daylight -thou art unseen, but yet i hear thy shrill delight - -all the earth and air -with thy voice is loud -as, when night is bare -from one lonely cloud -the moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed - -what thou art we know not -what is most like thee -from rainbow-clouds there flow not -drops so bright to see -as from thy presence showers a rain of melody - -like a poet hidden -in the light of thought -singing hymns unbidden -till the world is wrought -to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not - -teach us, sprite or bird -what sweet thoughts are thine -i have never heard -praise of love or wine -that panted forth a flood of rapture so divine - -chorus hymeneal -or triumphal chaunt -matched with thine, would be all -but an empty vaunt -a thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want - -what objects are the fountains -of thy happy strain -what fields, or waves, or mountains -what shapes of sky or plain -what love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain - -teach me half the gladness -that thy brain must know -such harmonious madness -from my lips would flow -the world should listen then, as i am listening now - - - -i have often had the pleasure of riding across the coast from chester -england, to rhyl, on the north coast of wales, where stretch "the sands -of dee" (charles kingsley, 1819-75). these purple sands at low tide -stretch off into the sea miles away, and are said to be full of -quicksands - -and call the cattle home -and call the cattle home -across the sands of dee -the western wind was wild and dark with foam -and all alone went she - -the western tide crept up along the sand -and o'er and o'er the sand -and round and round the sand -as far as eye could see -the rolling mist came down and hid the land -and never home came she -oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair -a tress of golden hair -a drownèd maiden's hair -above the nets at sea -was never salmon yet that shone so fair -among the stakes on dee - -they rowed her in across the rolling foam -the cruel crawling foam -the cruel hungry foam -to her grave beside the sea -but still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home -across the sands of dee - - - -1770-1850) are two gems that can be valued only for the spirit of quiet -and modesty diffused by them - -mine be a cot beside the hill -a bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear -a willowy brook that turns a mill -with many a fall shall linger near - -the swallow, oft, beneath my thatch -shall twitter from her clay-built nest -oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch -and share my meal, a welcome guest - -around my ivied porch shall spring -each fragrant flower that drinks the dew -and lucy, at her wheel, shall sing -in russet gown and apron blue - -the village church among the trees -where first our marriage-vows were given -with merry peals shall swell the breeze -and point with taper spire to heaven - - - -she dwelt among the untrodden ways -beside the springs of dove -a maid whom there were none to praise -and very few to love - -a violet by a mossy stone -half-hidden from the eye -fair as a star, when only one -is shining in the sky - -she lived unknown, and few could know -when lucy ceased to be -but she is in her grave, and, oh -the difference to me - - - -happy the man, whose wish and care -a few paternal acres bound -content to breathe his native air -in his own ground - -whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread -whose flocks supply him with attire -whose trees in summer yield him shade -in winter fire - -blest, who can unconcern'dly find -hours, days, and years slide soft away -in health of body, peace of mind -quiet by day - -sound sleep by night; study and ease -together mixt, sweet recreation -and innocence, which most does please -with meditation - -thus let me live, unseen, unknown -thus unlamented let me die -steal from the world, and not a stone -tell where i lie - - - -please several teachers - -john anderson, my jo, john -when we were first acquent -your locks were like the raven -your bonnie brow was brent -but now your brow is bald, john -your locks are like the snow -but blessings on your frosty pow -john anderson, my jo - -john anderson, my jo, john -we clamb the hill thegither -and mony a canty day, john -we've had wi' ane anither -now we maun totter down, john -but hand in hand we'll go -and sleep thegither at the foot -john anderson, my jo - - - -this sonnet the poetess has touched the power of wordsworth or keats -and placed herself among the immortals - -the god of music dwelleth out of doors -all seasons through his minstrelsy we meet -breathing by field and covert haunting-sweet -from organ-lofts in forests old he pours -a solemn harmony: on leafy floors -to smooth autumnal pipes he moves his feet -or with the tingling plectrum of the sleet -in winter keen beats out his thrilling scores -leave me the reed unplucked beside the stream -and he will stoop and fill it with the breeze -leave me the viol's frame in secret trees -unwrought, and it shall wake a druid theme -leave me the whispering shell on nereid shores -the god of music dwelleth out of doors - - - -poem is the supreme masterpiece of mrs. browning. the prime thought in -it is the sacrifice and pain that must go to make a poet of any genius - - -what was he doing, the great god pan -down in the reeds by the river -spreading ruin and scattering ban -splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat -and breaking the golden lilies afloat -with the dragon-fly on the river - -he tore out a reed, the great god pan -from the deep cool bed of the river -the limpid water turbidly ran -and the broken lilies a-dying lay -and the dragon-fly had fled away -ere he brought it out of the river - -high on the shore sat the great god pan -while turbidly flow'd the river -and hack'd and hew'd as a great god can -with his hard bleak steel at the patient reed -till there was not a sign of a leaf indeed -to prove it fresh from the river - -he cut it short, did the great god pan -then drew the pith, like the heart of a man -steadily from the outside ring -and notched the poor dry empty thing -in holes, as he sat by the river - -to make sweet music, they could succeed -then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed -he blew in power by the river - -sweet, sweet, sweet, o pan -piercing sweet by the river -blinding sweet, o great god pan -the sun on the hill forgot to die -and the lilies reviv'd, and the dragon-fly -came back to dream on the river - -yet half a beast is the great god pan -to laugh as he sits by the river -making a poet out of a man -the true gods sigh for the cost and pain -for the reed which grows nevermore again -as a reed with the reeds in the river - - - -dramatic, and the music of the refrain has done much to make it -popular. but the pathos is that which endears it - -the old mayor climb'd the belfry tower -the ringers ran by two, by three -good ringers, pull your best," quoth he -ply all your changes, all your swells -play uppe, 'the brides of enderby - -men say it was a stolen tyde -the lord that sent it, he knows all -but in myne ears doth still abide -the message that the bells let fall -and there was naught of strange, beside -the flight of mews and peewits pied -by millions crouch'd on the old sea wall - -i sat and spun within the doore -my thread brake off, i raised myne eyes -the level sun, like ruddy ore -lay sinking in the barren skies -and dark against day's golden death -she moved where lindis wandereth -my sonne's faire wife, elizabeth - -ere the early dews were falling -farre away i heard her song -where the reedy lindis floweth -floweth, floweth -from the meads where melick groweth -faintly came her milking song - -leave your meadow grasses mellow -mellow, mellow -quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow -come uppe, whitefoot, come uppe, lightfoot -quit the stalks of parsley hollow -hollow, hollow -come uppe, jetty, rise and follow -from the clovers lift your head -come uppe, whitefoot, come uppe, lightfoot -come uppe, jetty, rise and follow -jetty, to the milking shed - -if it be long ay, long ago -when i beginne to think howe long -againe i hear the lindis flow -swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong -and all the aire, it seemeth mee -bin full of floating bells (sayth shee -that ring the tune of enderby - -alle fresh the level pasture lay -and not a shadowe mote be seene -save where full fyve good miles away -the steeple tower'd from out the greene -and lo! the great bell farre and wide -was heard in all the country side -that saturday at eventide - -the swanherds where their sedges are -mov'd on in sunset's golden breath -the shepherde lads i heard afarre -and my sonne's wife, elizabeth -till floating o'er the grassy sea -came downe that kyndly message free -the "brides of mavis enderby - -then some look'd uppe into the sky -and all along where lindis flows -to where the goodly vessels lie -and where the lordly steeple shows -they sayde, "and why should this thing be -what danger lowers by land or sea -they ring the tune of enderby - -of pyrate galleys warping down -for shippes ashore beyond the scorpe -they have not spar'd to wake the towne -but while the west bin red to see -and storms be none, and pyrates flee -why ring 'the brides of enderby - -i look'd without, and lo! my sonne -came riding downe with might and main -he rais'd a shout as he drew on -till all the welkin rang again -than my sonne's wife, elizabeth - -the rising tide comes on apace -and boats adrift in yonder towne -go sailing uppe the market-place -he shook as one that looks on death - -with her two bairns i marked her long -and ere yon bells beganne to play -afar i heard her milking song -he looked across the grassy lea -to right, to left, "ho, enderby -they rang "the brides of enderby - -with that he cried and beat his breast -for, lo! along the river's bed -a mighty eygre rear'd his crest -and uppe the lindis raging sped -it swept with thunderous noises loud -shap'd like a curling snow-white cloud -or like a demon in a shroud - -and rearing lindis backward press'd -shook all her trembling bankes amaine -then madly at the eygre's breast -flung uppe her weltering walls again -then bankes came downe with ruin and rout -then beaten foam flew round about -then all the mighty floods were out - -so farre, so fast the eygre drave -the heart had hardly time to beat -before a shallow seething wave -sobb'd in the grasses at oure feet -the feet had hardly time to flee -before it brake against the knee -and all the world was in the sea - -upon the roofe we sate that night -the noise of bells went sweeping by -i mark'd the lofty beacon light -stream from the church tower, red and high -a lurid mark and dread to see -and awsome bells they were to mee -that in the dark rang "enderby - -they rang the sailor lads to guide -from roofe to roofe who fearless row'd -and i--my sonne was at my side -and yet the ruddy beacon glow'd -and yet he moan'd beneath his breath -o lost! my love, elizabeth - -and didst thou visit him no more -thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare -the waters laid thee at his doore -ere yet the early dawn was clear -thy pretty bairns in fast embrace -the lifted sun shone on thy face -downe drifted to thy dwelling-place - -that flow strew'd wrecks about the grass -that ebbe swept out the flocks to sea -a fatal ebbe and flow, alas -to manye more than myne and mee -but each will mourn his own (she saith -and sweeter woman ne'er drew breath -than my sonne's wife, elizabeth - -i shall never hear her more -by the reedy lindis shore -ere the early dews be falling -i shall never hear her song -where the sunny lindis floweth -goeth, floweth -from the meads where melick groweth -when the water winding down -onward floweth to the town - -i shall never see her more -where the reeds and rushes quiver -shiver, quiver -stand beside the sobbing river -sobbing, throbbing, in its falling -to the sandy lonesome shore -i shall never hear her calling -mellow, mellow -quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow - -quit your pipes of parsley hollow -hollow, hollow -come uppe, lightfoot, rise and follow -lightfoot, whitefoot -from your clovers lift the head -come uppe, jetty, follow, follow -jetty, to the milking shed - - - -and most appealing poems a teacher can read to her pupils when teaching -early american history. the poem is full of magnificent lines, such as -audience of young people when correlated with the study of north -carolina and sir walter raleigh. the solitary, majestic character of -sir walter raleigh, his intrepidity while undergoing tortures inflicted -by a cowardly king, the ring of indignation--- all these make a weapon -for him stronger than the ax that beheaded him. in this poem he "has -the last word - -goe, soule, the bodie's guest -upon a thanklesse arrant -feare not to touche the best -the truth shall be thy warrant -goe, since i needs must dye -and give the world the lye - -goe tell the court it glowes -and shines like rotten wood -goe tell the church it showes -what's good, and doth no good -if church and court reply -then give them both the lye - -tell potentates they live -acting by others' actions -not loved unlesse they give -not strong but by their factions -if potentates reply -give potentates the lye - -tell men of high condition -that rule affairs of state -their purpose is ambition -their practice only hate -and if they once reply -then give them all the lye - -tell zeale it lacks devotion -tell love it is but lust -tell time it is but motion -tell flesh it is but dust -and wish them not reply -for thou must give the lye - -tell wit how much it wrangles -in tickle points of nicenesse -tell wisdome she entangles -herselfe in over-wisenesse -and if they do reply -straight give them both the lye - -tell physicke of her boldnesse -tell skill it is pretension -tell charity of coldnesse -tell law it is contention -and as they yield reply -so give them still the lye - -tell fortune of her blindnesse -tell nature of decay -tell friendship of unkindnesse -tell justice of delay -and if they dare reply -then give them all the lye - -tell arts they have no soundnesse -but vary by esteeming -tell schooles they want profoundnesse -and stand too much on seeming -if arts and schooles reply -give arts and schooles the lye - -commanded thee, done blabbing -although to give the lye -deserves no less than stabbing -yet stab at thee who will -no stab the soule can kill - - - -sweeping assertion of the individual's right to self-development - -when earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are -twisted and dried -when the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died -we shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down -for an æon or two -till the master of all good workmen shall set us to work anew - -and those who were good shall be happy: they shall sit -in a golden chair -they shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair -they shall find real saints to draw from--magdalene, peter, and paul -they shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all - -and only the master shall praise us, and only the master shall blame -and no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame -but each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star -shall draw the thing as he sees it for the god of things as they are - - - -comfort and control people who are shut up to the joys of -meditation--people to whom the world of activity is closed. to be -independent of things material--this is the soul's pleasure - -my mind to me a kingdom is -such perfect joy therein i find -as far excels all earthly bliss -that god or nature hath assigned -though much i want that most would have -yet still my mind forbids to crave - -content i live; this is my stay -i seek no more than may suffice -i press to bear no haughty sway -look, what i lack my mind supplies -lo, thus i triumph like a king -content with that my mind doth bring - -i laugh not at another's loss -i grudge not at another's gain -no worldly wave my mind can toss -i brook that is another's bane -i fear no foe, nor fawn on friend -i loathe not life, nor dread mine end - -my wealth is health and perfect ease -my conscience clear my chief defense -i never seek by bribes to please -nor by desert to give offense -thus do i live, thus will i die - - - -the harp that once through tara's halls -the soul of music shed -now hangs as mute on tara's walls -as if that soul were fled -so sleeps the pride of former days -so glory's thrill is o'er -and hearts, that once beat high for praise -now feel that pulse no more - -no more to chiefs and ladies bright -the harp of tara swells -the chord alone, that breaks at night -its tale of ruin tells -thus freedom now so seldom wakes -the only throb she gives -is when some heart indignant breaks -to show that still she lives - - - -love because it is an elegant expression of something very dear and -homely - -how dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood -when fond recollection presents them to view -the orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood -and every loved spot which my infancy knew -the wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it -the bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell -the cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it -and e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well -the old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket -the moss-covered bucket which hung in the well - -that moss-covered vessel i hailed as a treasure -for often at noon, when returned from the field -i found it the source of an exquisite pleasure -the purest and sweetest that nature can yield -how ardent i seized it, with hands that were glowing -and quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell -then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing -and dripping with coolness, it rose from the well -the old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket -the moss-covered bucket arose from the well - -how sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it -as poised on the curb it inclined to my lips -not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it -the brightest that beauty or revelry sips -and now, far removed from the loved habitation -the tear of regret will intrusively swell -as fancy reverts to my father's plantation -and sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well -the old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket -the moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well - - - -many college men speak of it at once as the great poem of their -boyhood. the poem caught me when a child by its refrain and weird -picturesqueness. it has never outgrown its mechanical charm - -once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary -over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore -while i nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping -as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door -only this, and nothing more - -ah! distinctly i remember, it was in the bleak december -and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor -eagerly i wished the morrow; vainly i had sought to borrow -from my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost lenore -for the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name lenore -nameless here for evermore - -and the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain -thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before -so that now, to still the beating of my heart, i stood repeating -some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -this it is, and nothing more - -presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer -but the fact is, i was napping, and so gently you came rapping -and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door -that i scarce was sure i heard you." here i opened wide the door -darkness there, and nothing more - -deep into that darkness peering, long i stood there, wondering -fearing -doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before -but the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token -and the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "lenore -this i whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "lenore -merely this, and nothing more - -back into my chamber turning, all my soul within me burning -soon again i heard a rapping, something louder than before -let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore - -open here i flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter -in there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore -not the least obeisance made he, not a minute stopped or stayed he -but with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -perched above a bust of pallas, just above my chamber door -perched, and sat, and nothing more - -then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling -by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore -sure, no craven -ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore -tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's plutonian shore -quoth the raven, "nevermore - -much i marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly -though its answer, little meaning, little relevancy bore -for we cannot help agreeing that no living human being -ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door -with such a name as "nevermore - -but the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only -that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour -nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he fluttered -till i scarcely more than muttered--"other friends have flown before -on the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before -then the bird said, "nevermore - -startled by the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken -caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster -followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore -till the dirges of his hope this melancholy burden bore -of 'never, nevermore - -but the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling -straight i wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and -bust, and door -then upon the velvet sinking, i betook myself to linking -fancy into fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -what this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore -meant in croaking "nevermore - -thus i sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing -to the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core -this and more i sat divining, with my head at ease reclining -on the cushion's velvet lining, that the lamp-light gloated o'er -but whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloating o'er -she shall press, ah, nevermore - -then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer -swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor -hath sent thee -respite--respite and nepenthe from my memories of lenore -quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost lenore -quoth the raven, "nevermore - -whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore -desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -on this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, i implore -is there--_is_ there balm in gilead?--tell me, tell me, i implore -quoth the raven, "nevermore - -by that heaven that bends above us--by that god we both adore -tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the distant aiden -it shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name lenore -clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name lenore -quoth the raven, "nevermore - -leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken -leave my loneliness unbroken--quit the bust above my door -take thy beak from out my heart and take thy form from off my door -quoth the raven, "nevermore - -and the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting -on the pallid bust of pallas, just above my chamber door -and his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming -and the lamp-light o'er him streaming, throws his shadow on the floor -and my soul from out that shadow, that lies floating on the floor -shall be lifted--nevermore - - - -make way for liberty, and died -in arms the austrian phalanx stood -a living wall, a human wood -a wall, where every conscious stone -seemed to its kindred thousands grown -a rampart all assaults to bear -till time to dust their frames should wear -so still, so dense the austrians stood -a living wall, a human wood - -impregnable their front appears -all horrent with projected spears -whose polished points before them shine -from flank to flank, one brilliant line -bright as the breakers' splendours run -along the billows to the sun - -opposed to these a hovering band -contended for their fatherland -peasants, whose new-found strength had broke -from manly necks the ignoble yoke -and beat their fetters into swords -on equal terms to fight their lords -and what insurgent rage had gained -in many a mortal fray maintained -marshalled, once more, at freedom's call -they came to conquer or to fall -where he who conquered, he who fell -was deemed a dead or living tell -such virtue had that patriot breathed -so to the soil his soul bequeathed -that wheresoe'er his arrows flew -heroes in his own likeness grew -and warriors sprang from every sod -which his awakening footstep trod - -and now the work of life and death -hung on the passing of a breath -the fire of conflict burned within -the battle trembled to begin -yet, while the austrians held their ground -point for attack was nowhere found -where'er the impatient switzers gazed -the unbroken line of lances blazed -that line 'twere suicide to meet -and perish at their tyrant's feet -how could they rest within their graves -and leave their homes, the homes of slaves -would not they feel their children tread -with clanging chains, above their head - -it must not be; this day, this hour -annihilates the invader's power -all switzerland is in the field -she will not fly,--she cannot yield -she must not fall; her better fate -here gives her an immortal date -few were the numbers she could boast -but every freeman was a host -and felt as 'twere a secret known -that one should turn the scale alone -while each unto himself was he -on whose sole arm hung victory - -it did depend on one indeed -behold him,--arnold winkelried -there sounds not to the trump of fame -the echo of a nobler name -unmarked he stood amid the throng -in rumination deep and long -till you might see, with sudden grace -the very thought come o'er his face -and, by the motion of his form -anticipate the bursting storm -and, by the uplifting of his brow -tell where the bolt would strike, and how - -but 'twas no sooner thought than done -the field was in a moment won -then ran, with arms extended wide -as if his dearest friend to clasp -ten spears he swept within his grasp -their keen points crossed from side to side -he bowed amidst them like a tree -and thus made way for liberty - -swift to the breach his comrades fly -and through the austrian phalanx dart -as rushed the spears through arnold's heart -while instantaneous as his fall -rout, ruin, panic, seized them all -an earthquake could not overthrow -a city with a surer blow - -thus switzerland again was free -thus death made way for liberty - - - -life! i know not what thou art -but know that thou and i must part -and when, or how, or where we met -i own to me's a secret yet -life! we've been long together -through pleasant and through cloudy weather -tis hard to part when friends are dear -perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear -choose thine own time -say not good night,--but in some brighter clime -bid me good morning - - - -from "hamlet," and "antony's speech," from "julius cæsar" (all -fragments from shakespeare, 1564-1616), find a place in this book -because a well-known new york teacher--one who is unremitting in his -book of poetry could not be complete without these extracts - -the quality of mercy is not strain'd -it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven -upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd -it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes -the throned monarch better than his crown -his scepter shows the force of temporal power -the attribute to awe and majesty -wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings -but mercy is above his sceptered sway -it is enthroned in the hearts of kings -it is an attribute to god himself -and earthly power doth then show likest god's -when mercy seasons justice - -shakespeare ("merchant of venice - - -see thou character. give thy thoughts no tongue -nor any unproportion'd thought his act -be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar -the friends thou hast, and their adoption tried -grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel -but do not dull thy palm with entertainment -of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. beware -of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in -bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee -give every man thine ear, but few thy voice -take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment -costly thy habit as thy purse can buy -but not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy -for the apparel oft proclaims the man -neither a borrower nor a lender be -for loan oft loses both itself and friend -and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry -this above all: to thine own self be true -and it must follow, as the night the day -thou canst not then be false to any man - -shakespeare ("hamlet - - -this was the noblest roman of them all -all the conspirators, save only he -did that they did in envy of great cæsar -he only, in a general honest thought -and common good to all, made one of them -his life was gentle; and the elements -so mix'd in him, that nature might stand up -and say to all the world, "this was a man - -shakespeare ("julius cæsar - - -bird of the wilderness -blithesome and cumberless -sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea -emblem of happiness -blest is thy dwelling-place -oh, to abide in the desert with thee - -wild is thy lay and loud -far in the downy cloud -love gives it energy, love gave it birth -where, on thy dewy wing -where art thou journeying -thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth - -o'er fell and fountain sheen -o'er moor and mountain green -o'er the red streamer that heralds the day -over the cloudlet dim -over the rainbow's rim -musical cherub, soar, singing, away - -then, when the gloaming comes -low in the heather blooms -sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be -emblem of happiness -blest is thy dwelling-place -oh, to abide in the desert with thee - - - -exposition in poetry of this "shakespeare of prose - -o, may i join the choir invisible -of those immortal dead who live again -in minds made better by their presence; live -in pulses stirred to generosity -in deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn -of miserable aims that end with self -in thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars -and with their mild persistence urge men's minds -to vaster issues -may i reach -that purest heaven,--be to other souls -the cup of strength in some great agony -enkindle generous ardour, feed pure love -beget the smiles that have no cruelty -be the sweet presence of good diffused -and in diffusion ever more intense -so shall i join the choir invisible -whose music is the gladness of the world - - - -the greatest sonnet ever written. it is true that "the eyes of the -soul" are blinded by a surfeit of worldly "goods." "i went to the lake -district" (england), said john burroughs, "to see what kind of a -country could produce a wordsworth." of course he found simple houses -simple people, barren moors, heather-clad mountains, wild flowers, calm -lakes, plain, rugged simplicity - -the world is too much with us; late and soon -getting and spending, we lay waste our powers -little we see in nature that is ours -we have given our hearts away, a sordid boon -this sea, that bares her bosom to the moon -the winds that will be howling at all hours -and are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers -for this, for everything, we are out of tune -it moves us not. great god! i'd rather be -a pagan, suckled in a creed outworn -so might i, standing on this pleasant lea -have glimpses that would make me less forlorn -have sight of proteus, rising from the sea -or hear old triton blow his wreathed horn - - - -stately and pathetic sonnet in existence. the soul enduring enforced -idleness and loss of power without repining. inactivity made to serve a -higher end - -there is no first or last - -when i consider how my light is spent -ere half my days, in this dark world and wide -and that one talent which is death to hide -lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent -to serve therewith my maker, and present -my true account, lest he, returning, chide -doth god exact day-labour, light denied -i fondly ask: but patience, to prevent -that murmur, soon replies, god doth not need -either man's work, or his own gifts; who best -bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his state -is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed -and post o'er land and ocean without rest -they also serve who only stand and wait - - - -included here because it is a picture of woman as she should be, not -made dainty by finery, but by fine ideals - -for human nature's daily food - -she was a phantom of delight -when first she gleamed upon my sight -a lovely apparition, sent -to be a moment's ornament -her eyes as stars of twilight fair -like twilight's, too, her dusky hair -but all things else about her drawn -from may-time and the cheerful dawn -a dancing shape, an image gay -to haunt, to startle, and waylay - -i saw her upon nearer view -a spirit, yet a woman too -her household motions light and free -and steps of virgin liberty -a countenance in which did meet -sweet records, promises as sweet -a creature not too bright or good -for human nature's daily food -for transient sorrows, simple wiles -praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles - -and now i see with eye serene -the very pulse of the machine -a being breathing thoughtful breath -a traveller between life and death -the reason firm, the temperate will -endurance, foresight, strength, and skill -a perfect woman, nobly planned -to warn, to comfort, and command -and yet a spirit still, and bright -with something of angelic light - - - -from windsor castle through eton, down the long hedge-bound road which -passes the estate of william penn's descendants to stoke pogis, the -little churchyard where this poem was written. they were trimming a -great yew-tree under which gray was said to have written this poem. the -scene is one of peace and quiet. the "elegy" was a favourite form of -poem with the ancients, but gray is said to have reached the climax -among poets in this style of verse. the great line of the poem is - - -it would almost seem that poetry has for its greatest mission the -lesson of a proper humility - -the curfew tolls the knell of parting day -the lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea -the plowman homeward plods his weary way -and leaves the world to darkness and to me - -now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight -and all the air a solemn stillness holds -save where the beetle wheels his droning flight -and drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds - -save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r -the moping owl does to the moon complain -of such as, wandering near her secret bow'r -molest her ancient solitary reign - -beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade -where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap -each in his narrow cell forever laid -the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep - -the breezy call of incense-breathing morn -the swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed -the cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn -no more shall rouse them from their lowly bed - -for them no more the blazing hearth shall burn -or busy housewife ply her evening care -no children run to lisp their sire's return -or climb his knees the envied kiss to share - -oft did the harvest to their sickle yield -their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke -how jocund did they drive their team afield -how bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke - -let not ambition mock their useful toil -their homely joys, and destiny obscure -nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile -the short and simple annals of the poor - -the boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r -and all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave -await alike th' inevitable hour -the paths of glory lead but to the grave - -forgive, ye proud, th' involuntary fault -if memory to these no trophies raise -where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault -the pealing anthem swells the note of praise - -can storied urn or animated bust -back to its mansion call the fleeting breath -can honour's voice provoke the silent dust -or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death - -perhaps in this neglected spot is laid -some heart once pregnant with celestial fire -hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd -or waked to ecstasy the living lyre - -but knowledge to their eyes her ample page -rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll -chill penury repress'd their noble rage -and froze the genial current of the soul - -full many a gem of purest ray serene -the dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear -full many a flower is born to blush unseen -and waste its sweetness on the desert air - -some village-hampden, that with dauntless breast -the little tyrant of his fields withstood -some mute inglorious milton here may rest -some cromwell guiltless of his country's blood - -th' applause of listening senates to command -the threats of pain and ruin to despise -to scatter plenty o'er a smiling land -and read their history in a nation's eyes - -their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone -their growing virtues, but their crimes confined -forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne -and shut the gates of mercy on mankind - -the struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide -to quench the blushes of ingenuous shame -or heap the shrine of luxury and pride -with incense, kindled at the muse's flame - -far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife -their sober wishes never learn'd to stray -along the cool sequester'd vale of life -they kept the noiseless tenour of their way - -yet e'en those bones from insult to protect -some frail memorial still erected nigh -with uncouth rhimes and shapeless sculpture deck'd -implores the passing tribute of a sigh - -their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered muse -the place of fame and elegy supply -and many a holy text around she strews -that teach the rustic moralist to die - -for who to dumb forgetfulness a prey -this pleasing anxious being e'er resigned -left the warm precincts of the cheerful day -nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind - -on some fond breast the parting soul relies -some pious drops the closing eye requires -e'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries -e'en in our ashes live their wonted fires - -for thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead -dost in these lines their artless tale relate -if chance, by lonely contemplation led -some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate - -haply some hoary-headed swain may say -brushing with hasty steps the dews away -to meet the sun upon the upland lawn - -that wreathes its old fantastic roots so high -his listless length at noon-tide would he stretch -and pore upon the brook that babbles by - -muttering his wayward fancies he would rove -now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn -or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love - -along the heath, and near his favourite tree -another came; nor yet beside the rill -nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he - -slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne -approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay -graved on the stone beneath yon agèd thorn - - -here rests his head upon the lap of earth -a youth to fortune and to fame unknown -fair science frown'd not on his humble birth -and melancholy mark'd him for her own - -large was his bounty, and his soul sincere -heaven did a recompense as largely send -he gave to mis'ry all he had, a tear -he gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend - -no farther seek his merits to disclose -or draw his frailties from their dread abode -the bosom of his father and his god - - - -and age for counsel; each year, each period of a man's life is but the -necessary step to the next. youth is an uncertain thing to bank on - -the best is yet to be -the last of life for which the first was made - -keynote - - -grow old along with me -the best is yet to be -the last of life, for which the first was made -our times are in his hand -who saith, "a whole i plann'd -youth shows but half; trust god: see all nor be afraid - -not that, amassing flowers -youth sigh'd, "which rose make ours -which lily leave and then as best recall -not that, admiring stars -it yearn'd, "nor jove, nor mars -mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends them all - -not for such hopes and fears -annulling youth's brief years -do i remonstrate: folly wide the mark -rather i prize the doubt -low kinds exist without -finish'd and finite clods, untroubled by a spark - -poor vaunt of life indeed -were man but formed to feed -on joy, to solely seek and find and feast -such feasting ended, then -as sure an end to men -irks care the crop-full bird? frets doubt the maw-cramm'd beast - -rejoice we are allied -to that which doth provide -and not partake, effect and not receive -a spark disturbs our clod -nearer we hold of god -who gives, than of his tribes that take, i must believe - -then, welcome each rebuff -that turns earth's smoothness rough -each sting, that bids nor sit nor stand, but go -be our joys three parts pain -strive, and hold cheap the strain -learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe - -for thence,--a paradox -which comforts while it mocks -shall life succeed in that it seems to fail -what i aspired to be -and was not, comforts me -a brute i might have been, but would not sink i' the scale - -what is he but a brute -whose flesh has soul to suit -whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play -to man, propose this test -thy body at its best -how far can that project thy soul on its lone way - -yet gifts should prove their use -i own the past profuse -of power each side, perfection every turn -eyes, ears took in their dole -brain treasured up the whole -should not the heart beat once "how good to live and learn - -not once beat "praise be thine -i see the whole design -i, who saw power, see now love perfect too -perfect i call thy plan -thanks that i was a man -maker, remake, complete,--i trust what thou shalt do - -for pleasant is this flesh -our soul, in its rose-mesh -pull'd ever to the earth, still yearns for rest -would we some prize might hold -to match those manifold -possessions of the brute,--gain most, as we did best - -let us not always say -i strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole -as the bird wings and sings -let us cry, "all good things -are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul - -therefore i summon age -to grant youth's heritage -life's struggle having so far reached its term -thence shall i pass, approved -a man, for aye removed -from the developed brute; a god though in the germ - -and i shall thereupon -take rest, ere i be gone -once more on my adventure brave and new -fearless and unperplex'd -when i wage battle next -what weapons to select, what armour to indue - -youth ended, i shall try -my gain or loss thereby -leave the fire ashes, what survives is gold -and i shall weigh the same -give life its praise or blame -young, all lay in dispute; i shall know, being old - -for note, when evening shuts -a certain moment cuts -the deed off, calls the glory from the gray -a whisper from the west -shoots--"add this to the rest -take it and try its worth: here dies another day - -so, still within this life -though lifted o'er its strife -let me discern, compare, pronounce at last -that acquiescence vain -the future i may face now i have proved the past - -for more is not reserved -to man, with soul just nerved -to act to-morrow what he learns to-day -here, work enough to watch -the master work, and catch -hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true play - -as it was better, youth -should strive, through acts uncouth -toward making, than repose on aught found made -so, better, age, exempt -from strife, should know, than tempt -further. thou waitedest age: wait death nor be afraid - -enough now, if the right -and good and infinite -be named here, as thou callest thy hand thine own -with knowledge absolute -subject to no dispute -from fools that crowded youth, nor let thee feel alone - -be there, for once and all -sever'd great minds from small -announced to each his station in the past -was i, the world arraigned -were they, my soul disdain'd -right? let age speak the truth and give us peace at last - -now, who shall arbitrate -ten men love what i hate -shun what i follow, slight what i receive -ten, who in ears and eyes -match me: we all surmise -they this thing, and i that: whom shall my soul believe - -not on the vulgar mass -call'd "work," must sentence pass -things done, that took the eye and had the price -o'er which, from level stand -the low world laid its hand -found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice - -but all, the world's coarse thumb -and finger fail'd to plumb -so pass'd in making up the main account -all instincts immature -all purposes unsure -that weigh'd not as his work, yet swell'd the man's amount - -thoughts hardly to be pack'd -into a narrow act -fancies that broke through language and escaped -all i could never be -all, men ignored in me -this, i was worth to god, whose wheel the pitcher shaped - -ay, note that potter's wheel -that metaphor! and feel -why time spins fast, why passive lies our clay -thou, to whom fools propound -when the wine makes its round - -fool! all that is, at all -lasts ever, past recall -earth changes, but thy soul and god stand sure -what enter'd into thee -time's wheel runs back or stops: potter and clay endure - -he fix'd thee 'mid this dance -of plastic circumstance -this present, thou, forsooth, wouldst fain arrest -machinery just meant -to give thy soul its bent -try thee and turn thee forth, sufficiently impress'd - -what though the earlier grooves -which ran the laughing loves -around thy base, no longer pause and press -what though, about thy rim -scull-things in order grim -grow out, in graver mood, obey the sterner stress - -look not thou down but up -to uses of a cup -the festal board, lamp's flash and trumpet's peal -the new wine's foaming flow -the master's lips aglow -thou, heaven's consummate cup, what need'st thou with earth's wheel - -but i need, now as then -thee, god, who mouldest men -and since, not even while the whirl was worst -did i,--to the wheel of life -with shapes and colours rife -bound dizzily,--mistake my end, to slake thy thirst - -so, take and use thy work -amend what flaws may lurk -what strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim -my times be in thy hand -perfect the cup as plann'd -lest age approve of youth, and death complete the same - - - -ever written. it is a battle-song and a pæan of victory - -and the strong man must go -and bade me creep past - -this poem is included in this book because these lines are enough to -reconcile any one to any fate - -fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat -the mist in _my_ face -when the snows begin, and the blasts denote -i am nearing the place -the power of the night, the press of the storm -the post of the foe -where he stands, the arch fear in a visible form -yet the strong man must go -for the journey is done and the summit attained -and the barriers fall -though a battle's to fight ere a guerdon be gained -the reward of it all -i was ever a fighter, so--one fight more -the best and the last -i would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore -and bade me creep past -no! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers -the heroes of old -bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears -of pain, darkness, and cold -for sudden the worst turns the best to the brave -the black minute's at end -and the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave -shall dwindle, shall blend -shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain -then a light, then thy breast -o thou soul of my soul! i shall clasp thee again -and with god be the rest - - - -the "recessional" (by rudyard kipling, 1865-) is one of the most -popular poems of this century. it is a warning to an age and a nation -drunk with power, a rebuke to materialistic tendencies and -boastfulness, a protest against pride - - -god of our fathers, known of old -lord of our far-flung battle-line -beneath whose awful hand we hold -dominion over palm and pine -lord god of hosts, be with us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -the tumult and the shouting dies -the captains and the kings depart -still stands thine ancient sacrifice -an humble and a contrite heart -lord god of hosts, be with us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -far-called our navies melt away -on dune and headland sinks the fire -lo, all our pomp of yesterday -is one with nineveh and tyre -judge of the nations, spare us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -if, drunk with sight of power, we loose -wild tongues that have not thee in awe -such boasting as the gentiles use -or lesser breeds without the law -lord god of hosts, be with us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -for heathen heart that puts her trust -in reeking tube and iron shard -all valiant dust that builds on dust -and guarding calls not thee to guard -for frantic boast and foolish word -thy mercy on thy people, lord! amen - - - -is a rebuke to the insolent pride of kings and empires. it is extremely -picturesque. it finds a place here because more elderly scholars of -good judgment are pleased with it. i remember an old gray-haired -scholar in chicago who often recited it to his friends merely because -it touched his fancy - -i met a traveller from an antique land -who said: "two vast and trunkless legs of stone -stand in the desert. near them on the sand -half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown -and wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command -tell that its sculptor well those passions read -which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things -the hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed -and on the pedestal these words appear -look on my works, ye mighty, and despair -nothing beside remains. round the decay -of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare -the lone and level sands stretch far away - - - -favourite poem - -o why should the spirit of mortal be proud -like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud -a flash of the lightning, a break of the wave -he passes from life to his rest in the grave - -the leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade -be scattered around and together be laid -and the young and the old, and the low and the high -shall moulder to dust and together shall lie - -the child that a mother attended and loved -the mother that infant's affection that proved -the husband that mother and infant that blessed -each, all, are away to their dwelling of rest - -the maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye -shone beauty and pleasure,--her triumphs are by -and the memory of those that beloved her and praised -are alike from the minds of the living erased - -the hand of the king that the scepter hath borne -the brow of the priest that the miter hath worn -the eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave -are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave - -the peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap -the herdsman who climbed with his goats to the steep -the beggar that wandered in search of his bread -have faded away like the grass that we tread - -the saint that enjoyed the communion of heaven -the sinner that dared to remain unforgiven -the wise and the foolish, the guilty and just -have quietly mingled their bones in the dust - -so the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed -that wither away to let others succeed -so the multitude comes, even those we behold -to repeat every tale that hath often been told - -for we are the same that our fathers have been -we see the same sights that our fathers have seen -we drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun -and we run the same course that our fathers have run - -the thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think -from the death we are shrinking from, they too would shrink -to the life we are clinging to, they too would cling -but it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing - -they loved, but their story we cannot unfold -they scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold -they grieved, but no wail from their slumbers may come -they enjoyed, but the voice of their gladness is dumb - -they died, ay! they died! and we things that are now -who walk on the turf that lies over their brow -who make in their dwellings a transient abode -meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road - -yea! hope and despondence, and pleasure and pain -are mingled together like sunshine and rain -and the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge -still follow each other, like surge upon surge - -from the blossom of health to the paleness of death -from the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud -o why should the spirit of mortal be proud - - - -the last four lines of this sonnet form the most tremendous climax in -literature. the picture is as vivid as if done with a brush. every -great book, every great poem is a new world, an undiscovered country -every learned person is a whole territory, a universe of new thought -every one who does anything with a heart for it, every specialist every -one, however simple, who is strenuous and genuine, is a "new -discovery." let us give credit to the smallest planet that is true to -its own orbit - -much have i travelled in the realms of gold -and many goodly states and kingdoms seen -round many western islands have i been -which bards in fealty to apollo hold - -oft of one wide expanse had i been told -that deep-brow'd homer ruled as his demesne -yet did i never breathe its pure serene -till i heard chapman speak out loud and bold - -then felt i like some watcher of the skies -when a new planet swims into his ken -or like stout cortez when with eagle eyes - -he stared at the pacific--and all his men -look'd at each other with a wild surmise -silent, upon a peak in darien - - - -here is a hero who does a great deed simply as a part of his day's -work. he puts no value on what he has done, because he could have done -no other way - -on the sea and at the hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two -did the english fight the french--woe to france -and, the thirty-first of may, helter-skelter through the blue -like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue -came crowding ship on ship to st. malo on the rance -with the english fleet in view - -first and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, damfreville -close on him fled, great and small -twenty-two good ships in all -and they signalled to the place -get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick--or, quicker still -here's the english can and will - -then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leaped on board -laughed they -and scored -shall the _formidable_ here, with her twelve and eighty guns -think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way -trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons -and with flow at full beside -now 'tis slackest ebb of tide -reach the mooring! rather say -while rock stands or water runs -not a ship will leave the bay - -then was called a council straight -brief and bitter the debate -all that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow -for a prize to plymouth sound -better run the ships aground -let the captains all and each -shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach -france must undergo her fate - -was ever spoke or heard -for up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these -a captain? a lieutenant? a mate--first, second, third -no such man of mark, and meet -with his betters to compete -but a simple breton sailor pressed by tourville for the fleet -a poor coasting pilot he, hervé riel, the croisiekese - -and "what mockery or malice have we here?" cries hervé riel -talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell -on my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell -are you bought by english gold? is it love the lying's for -morn and eve, night and day -have i piloted your bay -entered free and anchored fast at the foot of solidor -burn the fleet and ruin france? that were worse than fifty hogues -sirs, they know i speak the truth! sirs, believe me there's a way -only let me lead the line -have the biggest ship to steer -get this _formidable_ clear -make the others follow mine -and i lead them, most and least, by a passage i know well -right to solidor past grève -and there lay them safe and sound -and if one ship misbehave -why, i've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries hervé riel - -not a minute more to wait -take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief -captains, give the sailor place -he is admiral, in brief -still the north wind, by god's grace -see the noble fellow's face -as the big ship, with a bound -clears the entry like a hound -keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound -see, safe through shoal and rock -how they follow in a flock -not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground -not a spar that comes to grief -the peril, see, is past -all are harboured to the last -and just as hervé riel hollas "anchor!"--sure as fate -up the english come--too late - -so, the storm subsides to calm -they see the green trees wave -on the heights o'erlooking grève -hearts that bled are stanched with balm -let the english rake the bay -gnash their teeth and glare askance -as they cannonade away -how hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance -out burst all with one accord -let france, let france's king -thank the man that did the thing -what a shout, and all one word -as he stepped in front once more -not a symptom of surprise -in the frank blue breton eyes -just the same man as before - -then said damfreville, "my friend -i must speak out at the end -though i find the speaking hard -praise is deeper than the lips -you have saved the king his ships -you must name your own reward -demand whate'er you will -france remains your debtor still -ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not damfreville - -then a beam of fun outbroke -on the bearded mouth that spoke -as the honest heart laughed through -those frank eyes of breton blue -since on board the duty's done -and from malo roads to croisic point, what is it but a run -since 'tis ask and have, i may -since the others go ashore -come! a good whole holiday -leave to go and see my wife, whom i call the belle aurore -that he asked and that he got,--nothing more - -name and deed alike are lost -not a pillar nor a post -in his croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell -not a head in white and black -on a single fishing smack -in memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack -all that france saved from the fight whence england bore the bell -go to paris: rank on rank -search the heroes flung pell-mell -on the louvre, face and flank -you shall look long enough ere you come to hervé riel -so, for better and for worse -hervé riel, accept my verse -in my verse, hervé riel, do thou once more -save the squadron, honour france, love thy wife the belle aurore - - - -of the world to the other. emerson teaches one lesson above all others -that each soul must work out for itself its latent force, its own -individual expression, and that with a "sad sincerity." "the bishop of -the soul" can do no more - -i like a church; i like a cowl -i love a prophet of the soul -and on my heart monastic aisles -fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles -yet not for all his faith can see -would i that cowlèd churchman be -why should the vest on him allure -which i could not on me endure - -not from a vain or shallow thought -his awful jove young phidias brought -never from lips of cunning fell -the thrilling delphic oracle -out from the heart of nature rolled -the burdens of the bible old -the litanies of nations came -like the volcano's tongue of flame -up from the burning core below -the canticles of love and woe -the hand that rounded peter's dome -and groined the aisles of christian rome -wrought in a sad sincerity -himself from god he could not free -he builded better than he knew -the conscious stone to beauty grew - -knowst thou what wove yon woodbird's nest -of leaves and feathers from her breast -or how the fish outbuilt her shell -painting with morn each annual cell -or how the sacred pine-tree adds -to her old leaves new myriads -such and so grew these holy piles -while love and terror laid the tiles -earth proudly wears the parthenon -as the best gem upon her zone -and morning opes with haste her lids -to gaze upon the pyramids -o'er england's abbeys bends the sky -as on its friends, with kindred eye -for out of thought's interior sphere -these wonders rose to upper air -and nature gladly gave them place -adopted them into her race -and granted them an equal date -with andes and with ararat - -these temples grew as grows the grass -art might obey, but not surpass -the passive master lent his hand -to the vast soul that o'er him planned -and the same power that reared the shrine -bestrode the tribes that knelt within -ever the fiery pentecost -girds with one flame the countless host -trances the heart through chanting choirs -and through the priest the mind inspires -the word unto the prophet spoken -was writ on tables yet unbroken -the word by seers or sibyls told -in groves of oak, or fanes of gold -still floats upon the morning wind -still whispers to the willing mind -one accent of the holy ghost -the heedless world hath never lost -i know what say the fathers wise -the book itself before me lies -old chrysostom, best augustine -and he who blent both in his line -the younger golden lips or mines -taylor, the shakespeare of divines -his words are music in my ear -i see his cowlèd portrait dear -and yet, for all his faith could see -i would not the good bishop be - - - -poem and a great poem. it is a keen thrust at the common practice of -teaching american children to hate the english of these days on account -of the actions of a silly old king dead a hundred years. alfred austin -deserves great credit for this poem - -what is the voice i hear -on the winds of the western sea -sentinel, listen from out cape clear -and say what the voice may be - -and it says to them: "kinsmen, hail -we severed have been too long -now let us have done with a worn-out tale -the tale of an ancient wrong -and our friendship last long as our love doth and be stronger -than death is strong - -answer them, sons of the self-same race -and blood of the self-same clan -let us speak with each other face to face -and answer as man to man -and loyally love and trust each other as none but free men can - -now fling them out to the breeze -shamrock, thistle, and rose -and the star-spangled banner unfurl with these -a message to friends and foes -wherever the sails of peace are seen and wherever the war-wind blows - -a message to bond and thrall to wake -for wherever we come, we twain -the throne of the tyrant shall rock and quake -and his menace be void and vain -for you are lords of a strong land and we are lords of the main - -yes, this is the voice of the bluff march gale -we severed have been too long -but now we have done with a worn-out tale -the tale of an ancient wrong -and our friendship last long as love doth last and stronger -than death is strong - - - -it is quite true that the english flag stands for freedom the world -over. wherever it floats almost any one is safe, whether english or - -some time, but ultimately when it fell the crowds rent the air with -shouts, and seemed to see significance in the incident.--_daily -papers - -winds of the world, give answer? they are whimpering to and fro -and what should they know of england who only england know -the poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag -they are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at -the english flag - -must we borrow a clout from the boer--to plaster anew with dirt -an irish liar's bandage, or an english coward's shirt -we may not speak of england; her flag's to sell or share -what is the flag of england? winds of the world, declare - -the north wind blew:--"from bergen my steel-shod van-guards go -i chase your lazy whalers home from the disko floe -by the great north lights above me i work the will of god -that the liner splits on the ice-field or the dogger fills with cod - -because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies came -i took the sun from their presence, i cut them down with my blast -and they died, but the flag of england blew free ere the spirit passed - -the musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the northern light -what is the flag of england? ye have but my bergs to dare -ye have but my drifts to conquer. go forth, for it is there - -the south wind sighed:--"from the virgins my mid-sea course was ta'en -over a thousand islands lost in an idle main -where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the long-backed -breakers croon -their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked lagoon - -i waked the palms to laughter--i tossed the scud in the breeze -never was isle so little, never was sea so lone -but over the scud and the palm-trees an english flag was flown - -on the horn -i have chased it north to the lizard--ribboned and rolled and torn -i have spread its fold o'er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea -i have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free - -where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the southern cross -what is the flag of england? ye have but my reefs to dare -ye have but my seas to furrow. go forth, for it is there - -the east wind roared:--"from the kuriles, the bitter seas, i come -and me men call the home-wind, for i bring the english home -look--look well to your shipping! by the breath of my mad typhoon -i swept your close-packed praya and beached your best at kowloon - -i raped your richest roadstead--i plundered singapore -i set my hand on the hoogli; as a hooded snake she rose -and i flung your stoutest steamers to roost with the startled crows - -but a soul goes out on the east wind that died for england's sake -man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid -because on the bones of the english the english flag is stayed - -the scared white leopard winds it across the taintless snows -what is the flag of england? ye have but my sun to dare -ye have but my sands to travel. go forth, for it is there - -the west wind called:--"in squadrons the thoughtless galleons fly -that bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred people die -they make my might their porter, they make my house their path -till i loose my neck from their rudder and whelm them all in my wrath - -they bellow one to the other, the frightened ship-bells toll -for day is a drifting terror till i raise the shroud with my breath -and they see strange bows above them and the two go locked to death - -i heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates away -first of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky -dipping between the rollers, the english flag goes by - -the naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the mist -what is the flag of england? ye have but my breath to dare -ye have but my waves to conquer. go forth, for it is there - - - -american ought to be proud of it, for we want no such type allowed to -be developed in this country as the low-browed peasant of france. this -poem is a stroke of genius. the story goes that it so offended a modern -plutocrat that he offered a reward of $10,000 to any one who could -write an equally good poem in rebuttal. "the man with the hoe" has won -for edwin markham the title of "poet laureate of the labouring -classes - - -god made man in his own image, in the image of god made he - -bowed by the weight of centuries he leans -upon his hoe and gazes on the ground -the emptiness of ages in his face -and on his back the burden of the world -who made him dead to rapture and despair -a thing that grieves not and that never hopes -stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox -who loosened and let down this brutal jaw -whose was the hand that slanted back this brow -whose breath blew out the light within this brain - -is this the thing the lord god made and gave -to have dominion over sea and land -to trace the stars and search the heavens for power -to feel the passion of eternity -is this the dream he dreamed who shaped the suns -and marked their ways upon the ancient deep -down all the stretch of hell to its last gulf -there is no shape more terrible than this -more tongued with censure of the world's blind greed -more filled with signs and portents for the soul -more fraught with menace to the universe - -what gulfs between him and the seraphim -slave of the wheel of labour, what to him -are plato and the swing of pleiades -what the long reaches of the peaks of song -the rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose -through this dread shape the suffering ages look -time's tragedy is in that aching stoop -through this dread shape humanity betrayed -plundered, profaned, and disinherited -cries protest to the judges of the world -a protest that is also prophecy - -o masters, lords, and rulers in all lands -is this the handiwork you give to god -this monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched -how will you ever straighten up this shape -touch it again with immortality -give back the upward looking and the light -rebuild in it the music and the dream -make right the immemorial infamies -perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes - -o masters, lords, and rulers in all lands -how will the future reckon with this man -how answer his brute question in that hour -when whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world -how will it be with kingdoms and with kings -with those who shaped him to the thing he is -when this dumb terror shall reply to god -after the silence of the centuries - - - -characteristic poems. i love the swing and the stride of his great long -lines. i love his rough-shod way of trampling down and kicking out of -the way the conventionalities that spring up like poisonous mushrooms -to make the world a vast labyrinth of petty "proprieties" until -everything is nasty. i love the oxygen he pours on the world. i love -his genius for brotherliness, his picture of the negro with rolling -eyes and the firelock in the corner. these excerpts are some of his -best lines - -i celebrate myself, and sing myself -and what i assume you shall assume -for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you -i loafe and invite my soul -i lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass -my tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air -born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their -parents the same -i, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin -hoping to cease not till death - -i harbor for good or bad, i permit to speak at every hazard -nature without check with original energy - -have you reckoned a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the -earth much -have you practised so long to learn to read -have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems - -stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin -of all poems -you shall possess the good of the earth and sun (there are -millions of suns left -you shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look -through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the specters in books -you shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me -you shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself - -a child said, "_what is the grass?_" fetching it to me with full hands -how could i answer the child? i do not know what it is any more -than he -i guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green -stuff woven -or, i guess it is the handkerchief of the lord -a scented gift and remembrance designedly dropt -bearing the owner's name some way in the corners -that we may see and remark, and say - -alone far in the wilds and mountains i hunt -wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee -in the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night -kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill'd game -falling asleep on the gathered leaves with my dog and gun by my side -the yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle -and scud -my eyes settle the land, i bend at her prow or shout joyously from -the deck -the boatman and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me -i tucked my trouser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time -you should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle - -the runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside -i heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile -through the swung half-door of the kitchen i saw him limpsy and weak -and went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him -and brought water and fill'd a tub for his sweated body and -bruis'd feet -and gave him a room that entered from my own, and gave him some -coarse clean clothes -and remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness -and remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles -he staid with me a week before he was recuperated and passed north -i had him sit next me at table, my firelock lean'd in the corner - -i am the poet of the woman the same as the man -and i say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man -and i say there is nothing greater than the mother of men - -i understand the large hearts of heroes -the courage of present times and all times -how the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steamship -and death chasing it up and down the storm -how he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch and was faithful of -days and faithful of nights -and chalked in large letters on a board, "_be of good cheer, we will -not desert you -how he followed with them and tack'd with them three days and would -not give it up -how he saved the drifting company at last -how the lank loose-gown'd women looked when boated from the side -of their prepared graves -how the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the -sharp-lipp'd unshaved men -all this i swallow, it tastes good, i like it well, it becomes mine -i am the man, i suffered, i was there -the disdain and calmness of martyrs -the mother of old, condemned for a witch, burned with dry wood, her -children gazing on -the hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence blowing -covered with sweat -i am the hounded slave, i wince at the bite of the dogs -hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen -i clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn'd with the -ooze of my skin -i fall on the weeds and stones -the riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close -taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with -whip-stocks - -old age superbly rising! o welcome, ineffable grace of dying days - -see ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that -count ever so much, there is limitless time around that -my rendezvous is appointed, it is certain -the lord will be there and wait till i come on perfect terms -the great camerado, the lover true for whom i pine will be there - -and whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own -funeral drest in his shroud - -and to glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds -the learning of all times -and there is no trade or employment but the young man following -it may become a hero -and there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheel'd -universe -and i say to any man or woman, "let your soul stand cool and composed -before a million universes - -i see something of god each hour of the twenty-four, and each -moment then -in the faces of men and women i see god, and in my own face in -the glass -i find letters from god dropt in the street, and every one is -sign'd by god's name -and i leave them where they are, for i know that wheresoe'er i go -others will punctually come forever and ever - -listener up there! what have you to confide in me -look in my face while i snuff the sidle of evening -longer -who has done his day's work? who will soonest be through with -his supper -who wishes to walk with me - -i too am not a bit tamed, i too am untranslatable -i sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world - - -when silence flees before the voice of love -of what expression does that god approve -is dulcet song or flowing verse his choice -or stately prose, made regal by his voice -speaks love in couplets, or in epics grand -and is love humble, or does he command - -there is no language that love does not speak -to-day commanding and to-morrow meek -one hour laconic and the next verbose -with hope triumphant and with doubt morose -his varying moods all forms of speech employ -to give expression to his painful joy - -to voice the phases of his joyful pain -he rings the changes on the poet’s strain -yet not in epic, epigram or verse -can love the passion of his heart rehearse -all speech, all language, is inadequate -there are no words with love commensurate - - -between the little here and larger yonder -there is a realm (or so one day i read -where faithful spirits love-enchained may wander -till some remembering soul from earth has fled -then, reunited, they go forth afar -from sphere to sphere, where wondrous angels are - -not many spirits in that realm are waiting -not many pause upon its shores to rest -for only love, intense and unabating -can hold them from the longer, higher quest -and after grief has wept itself to sleep -few hearts on earth their vital memories keep - -should i pass on, across the mystic border -let thy love link me to that pallid land -i would not seek the heavens of finer order -until thy barque had left this coarser strand -how desolate such journeyings would be -though straight to him, were they not shared by thee - -wert thou first called (dear god, how could i bear it -i should enchain thee with my love, i know -not great enough am i to free thy spirit -from all these tender ties, and bid thee go -nor would a soul, unselfish as thine own -forget so soon, and speed to heaven alone - -on earth we find no joy in ways diverging -how could we find it in the worlds unseen -i know old memories from my bosom surging -would keep thee waiting in that land between -until together, side by side, we trod -a path of stars, in our great search for god - - -midway upon the route, he paused athirst -and suddenly across the wastes of heat -he saw cool waters gleaming, and a sweet -green oasis upon his vision burst -a tender dream, long in his bosom nursed -spread love’s illusive verdure for his feet -the barren sands changed into golden wheat -the way grew glad that late had seemed accursed - -she shone, the woman wonder, on his soul -the garden spot, for which men toil and wait -the house of rest, that is each heart’s demand -but when, at last, he reached the gleaming goal -he found, oh, cruel irony of fate -but desert sun upon the desert sand - - -i know the need of the world -though it would not have me know -it would hide its sorrow deep -where only god may go -yet its secret it can not keep -it tells it awake, or asleep -it tells it to all who will heed -and he who runs may read -the need of the world i know - -i know the need of the world -when it boasts of its wealth the loudest -when it flaunts it in all men’s eyes -when its mien is the gayest and proudest -oh! ever it lies—it lies -for the sound of its laughter dies -in a sob and a smothered moan -and it weeps when it sits alone -the need of the world i know - -i know the need of the world -when the earth shakes under the tread -of men who march to the fight -when rivers with blood are red -and there is no law but might -and the wrong way seems the right -when he who slaughters the most -is all men’s pride and boast -the need of the world i know - -i know the need of the world -when it babbles of gold and fame -it is only to lead us astray -from the thing that it dare not name -for this is the sad world’s way -oh! poor blind world grown grey -with the need of a thing so near -with the want of a thing so dear -the need of the world i know - -the need of the world is love -deep under the pride of power -down under its lust of greed -for the joys that last but an hour -there lies forever its need -for love is the law and the creed -and love is the unnamed goal -of life, from man to the mole -love is the need of the world - - -skilled mariner, and counted sane and wise -that was a curious thing which chanced to me -so good a sailor on so fair a sea -with favouring winds and blue unshadowed skies -led by the faithful beacon of love’s eyes -past reef and shoal, my life-boat bounded free -and fearless of all changes that might be -under calm waves, where many a sunk rock lies - -a golden dawn; yet suddenly my barque -strained at the sails, as in a cyclone’s blast -and battled with an unseen current’s force -for we had entered when the night was dark -that old tempestuous gulf stream of the past -but for love’s eyes, i had not kept the course - - -his art was loving; eres set his sign -upon that youthful forehead, and he drew -the hearts of women, as the sun draws dew -love feeds love’s thirst as wine feeds love of wine -nor is there any potion from the vine -which makes men drunken like the subtle brew -of kisses crushed by kisses; and he grew -inebriated with that draught divine - -yet in his sober moments, when the sun -of radiant summer paled to lonely fall -and passion’s sea had grown an ebbing tide -from out the many, memory singled one -full cup that seemed the sweetest of them all— - - - -the world an abject vassal to her charms -and kings competing for a single smile -yet love she knew not, till upon this isle -she gave surrender to abducting arms -not theseus, who plucked her lips’ first kiss -not menelaus, lawful mate and spouse -such answering passion in her heart could rouse -or wake such tumult in her soul as this -let come what will, let greece and asia meet -let heroes die and kingdoms run with gore -let devastation spread from shore to shore— -resplendent helen finds her bondage sweet -the whole world fights her battles, while she lies -sunned in the fervour of young paris’ eyes - - -the battles ended, ardent paris dead -of faithful menelaus long bereft -time is the only suitor who is left -helen survives, with youth and beauty fled -by hate remembered, but by love forgot -dethroned and driven from her high estate -unhappy helen feels the lash of fate -and knows at last an unloved woman’s lot -the grecian marvel, and the trojan joy -the world’s fair wonder, from her palace flies -the furies follow, and great helen dies -a death of horror, for the pride of troy - -helen, immortal in her beauty, lives - - -lais when young, and all her charms in flower -lais, whose beauty was the fateful light -that led great ships to anchor in the night -and bring their priceless cargoes to her bower -lais yet found her cup of sweet turned sour -great plato’s pupil, from his lofty height -zenocrates, unmoved, had seen the white -sweet wonder of her, and defied her power - -she snared the world in nets of subtle wiles -the proud, the famed, all clamoured at her gate -dictators plead, inside her portico -wisdom sought madness, in her favouring smiles -now was she made the laughing-stock of fate -one loosed her clinging arms, and bade her go - - -lais, when old and all her beauty gone -lais, the erstwhile courted pleasure queen -walked homeless through corinth -one mocked her mien— -one tossed her coins; she took them and passed on -down by the harbour sloped a terraced lawn -where fountains played; she paused to view the scene -a marble palace stood in bowers of green -’twas here of old she revelled till the dawn - -through yonder portico her lovers came— -hero and statesman, athlete, merchant, sage -they flung the whole world’s treasures at her feet -to buy her favour and exalt her shame - -and faded like a phantom down the street - - -you are here, and you are wanted -though a waif upon life’s stair -though the sunlit hours are haunted -with the shadowy shapes of care -still the great one, the all-seeing -called your spirit into being— -gave you strength for any fate -since your life by him was needed -all your ways by him are heeded— -you can trust and you can wait - -you can wait to know the meaning -of the troubles sent your soul -of the chasms intervening -’twixt your purpose and your goal -of the sorrows and the trials -of the silence and denials -ofttimes answering to your pleas -of the stinted sweets of pleasure -and of pain’s too generous measure— -you can wait the _why_ of these - -forth from planet unto planet -you have gone, and you will go -space is vast, but we must span it -for life’s purpose is _to know -earth retains you but a minute -make the best of what lies in it -light the pathway where you are -there is nothing worth the doing -that will leave regret or rueing -as you speed from star to star - -you are part of the beginning -you are parcel of to-day -when he set his world to spinning -you were flung upon your way -when the system falls to pieces -when this pulsing epoch ceases -when the _is_ becomes the _was -you will live, for you will enter -in the great creative centre -in the all-enduring cause - - - -sailing away on a summer sea -out of the bleak march weather -drifting away for a loaf and play -just you and i together -and it’s good-bye worry and good-bye hurry -and never a care have we -with the sea below and the sun above -and nothing to do but dream and love -sailing away together - -sailing away from the grim old town -and tasks the town calls duty -sailing away from walls of grey -to a land of bloom and beauty -and it’s good-bye to letters from our lessers and our betters -to the cold world’s smile or its frown -we sail away on a sunny track -to find the summer and bring it back -and love is our only duty - - -afloat on a sea of passion -without a compass or chart -but the glow of your eye shows the sun is high -by the sextant of my heart -i know we are nearing the tropics -by the languor that round us lies -and the smile on your mouth says the course is south -and the port is paradise - -we have left grey skies behind us -we sail under skies of blue -you are off with me on lovers’ sea -and i am away with you -we have not a single sorrow -and i have but one fear— -that my lips may miss one offered kiss -from the mouth that is smiling near - -there is no land of winter -there is no world of care -there is bloom and mirth all over the earth -and love, love everywhere -our boat is the barque of pleasure -and whatever port we sight -the touch of your hand will make the land -the harbour of pure delight - - - -i wrenched from a passing comet in its flight -by that great force of two mad hearts aflame -a soul incarnate, back to earth you came -to glow like star-dust for a little night -deep shadows hide you wholly from our sight -the centuries leave nothing but your name -tinged with the lustre of a splendid shame -that blazed oblivion with rebellious light - -the mighty passion that became your cause -still burns its lengthening path across the years -we feel its raptures, and we see its tears -and ponder on its retributive laws -time keeps that deathless story ever new -yet finds no answer, when we ask of you - - -at argenteuil, i saw the lonely cell -where heloise dreamed through her broken rest -that baby lips pulled at her undried breast -it needed but my woman’s heart to tell -of those long vigils and the tears that fell -when aching arms reached out in fruitless quest -as after flight, wings brood an empty nest - -across the centuries there comes no sound -of that vast anguish; not one sigh or word -or echo of the mother loss has stirred -the sea of silence, lasting and profound -yet to each heart, that once has felt this grief -sad memory restores time’s missing leaf - - -but what of you? who took the mother’s place -when sweet expanding love its object sought -was there a voice to tell her tragic lot -and did you ever look upon her face -was yours a cloistered seeking after grace -or in the flame of adolescent thought -were abelard’s departed passions caught -to burn again in you and leave their trace - -conceived in nature’s bold primordial way -you came to earth, a soul immaculate -baptized in fire, with some great part to play -what was that part, and wherefore hid from us -immortal mystery, astrolabius - - -when i shall meet god’s generous dispensers -of all the riches in the heavenly store -those lesser gods, who act as recompensers -for loneliness and loss upon this shore -methinks abashed, and somewhat hesitating -my soul its wish and longing will declare -lest they reply: ‘here are no bounties waiting -we gave on earth, your portion and your share.’ - -then shall i answer: ‘yea, i do remember -the many blessings to my life allowed -my june was always longer than december -my sun was always stronger than my cloud -my joy was ever deeper than my sorrow -my gain was ever greater than my loss -my yesterday seemed less than my to-morrow -the crown looked always larger than the cross - -‘i have known love, in all its radiant splendour -it shone upon my pathway to the end -i trod no road that did not bloom with tender -and fragrant blossoms, planted by some friend -and those material things we call successes -in modest measure, crowned my earthly lot -yet was there one sweet happiness that blesses -the life of woman, which to me came not - -‘i knew the hope of motherhood; a season -i felt a fluttering heart beat ’neath my own -a little cry—then silence. for that reason -i dare, to you, my only wish make known -the babe who grew to angelhood in heaven -i never watched unfold from child to man -and so i ask, that unto me be given -that motherhood, which was god’s primal plan - -‘all womankind he meant to share its glories -he meant us all to nurse our babes to rest -to croon them songs, to tell them sleepy stories -else why the wonder of a woman’s breast -he must provide for all earth’s cheated mothers -in his vast heavens of shining sphere on sphere -and with my son, there must be many others— -my spirit children who will claim me here - -‘fair creatures by my loving thoughts created— -too finely fashioned for a mortal birth— -between the borders of two worlds they waited -until they saw my spirit leave the earth -in god’s great nursery they must be waiting -to welcome me with many an infant wile -now let me go and satisfy this longing -to mother children for a little while.’ - - -as the grey twilight, tiptoed down the deep -and shadowy valley, to the day’s dark end -she whom i thought my ever-faithful friend -fair-browed, calm-eyed and mother-bosomed sleep -met me with smiles. ‘poor longing heart, i keep -sweet joy for you,’ she murmured. ‘i will send -one whom you love, with your own soul to blend -in visions, as the night hours onward creep.’ - -i trusted her; and watched by starry beams -i slumbered soundly, free from all alarms -then not my love, but one long banished came -led by false sleep, down secret stairs of dreams -and clasped me, unresisting in fond arms -oh, treacherous sleep—to sell me to such shame - - -meditating - - -now have i fully fixed upon my part -good-bye to dreams; for me a life of art -beloved art! oh, realm serene and fair -above the mean and sordid world of care -above earth’s small ambitions and desires -art! art! the very word my soul inspires -from foolish memories it sets me free -not what has been, but that which is to be -absorbs me now. adieu to vain regret -the bow is tensely drawn—the target set - - -maid (_aside - -the night is dark and chill; the hour is late - - -who knocks upon my door - - -’tis i, your fate - - -thou dost deceive, not me, but thine own self -my fate is not a wandering, vagrant elf -my fate is here, within this throbbing heart -that beats alone for glory, and for art - - - -pray, let me in; i am so faint and cold - -outstretched hands - -maid (_indignantly - -methinks thou art not faint, however cold -but rather too courageous, and most bold -surprisingly ill-mannered, sir, and rude -without an invitation to intrude -into my very presence - -cupid (_warming his hands - -but, you see -girls never mind a little chap like me -they’re always watching for me on the sly -and hoping i will call - -maid (_haughtily - -my heart has listened to a sweeter voice -a clarion call that gives command—not choice -and i have answered to that call, ‘i come’ -to other voices shall my ears be dumb -to art alone i consecrate my life— -art is my spouse, and i his willing wife - -cupid (_slowly_, _gazing in the grate - -art is a sultan, and you must divide -his love with many another ill-fed bride -now i know one who worships you alone - -maid (_impatiently - -i will not listen! for the dice is thrown -and art has won me. on my brow some day -shall rest the laurel wreath— - -cupid (_sitting down and looking at_ maid _critically - -just let me say -i think sweet orange blossoms under lace -are better suited to your type of face - -maid (_ignoring interruption - -i yet shall stand before an audience -that listens as one mind, absorbed, intense -and with my genius i shall rouse its cheers -still it to silence, soften it to tears -or wake its laughter. oh, the play! the play -the play’s the thing! my boy, _the play - -cupid (_suddenly clapping his hands - -oh, say -i know a splendid role for you to take -and one that always keeps the house awake— -and calls for pretty dressing. oh, it’s great - -maid (_excitedly - -well, well, what is it? wherefore make me wait - -cupid (_tapping his brow_, _thoughtfully - -how is it those lines run—oh, now i know -you make a stately entrance—measured—slow— -to stirring music, then you kneel and say -something about—to honour and obey— -for better and for worse—till death do part - -maid (_angrily - -be still, you foolish boy; that is not _art - -cupid (_seriously - -she needs great skill who takes the role of wife -in god’s stupendous drama human life - -maid (_suddenly becoming serious - -so i once thought! oh, once my very soul -was filled and thrilled with dreaming of that role -life seemed so wonderful; it held for me -no purpose, no ambition, but to be -loving and loved. my highest thought of fame -was some day bearing my dear lover’s name -alone, i ofttimes uttered it aloud -or wrote it down, half timid, and all proud -to see myself lost utterly in him -as some small star might joy in growing dim -when sinking in the sun; or as the dew -forgetting the brief little life it knew -in space, might on the ocean’s bosom fall -and ask for nothing—only to give all - -cupid (_aside - -now, _that’s_ the talk—it’s music to my ear -after that stuff on ‘art’ and a ‘career.’ -i hope she’ll keep it up - -maiden (_continuing her reverie - -again my dream -shaped into changing pictures. i would seem -to see myself in beautiful array -move down the aisle upon my wedding day -and then i saw the modest living-room -with lighted lamp, and fragrant plants in bloom -and books and sewing scattered all about -and just we two alone - -cupid (_in glee aside - -there’s not a doubt -i’ll land her yet - - -my dream kaleidoscope -changed still again, and framed love’s dearest hope— -the trinity of home; and life was good -and all its deepest meaning understood - -‘_beautiful land of nod_.’ cupid _in ecstasy tiptoes about and clasps -his hands in delight - -another scene! a matron in her prime -i saw myself glide peacefully with time -into the quiet middle years, content -with simple joys the dear home circle lent -my sons and daughters made my diadem -i saw my happy youth renewed in them -the pain of growing old lost all its sting -for love stood near—in winter, as in spring - -dramatically - -’twas but a dream! i woke all suddenly -the world had changed! and now life means to me -my art—the stage—excitement and the crowd— -the glare of many foot-lights—and the loud -applause of men, as i cry in rage -‘give me the dagger!’ or creep down the stage -in that sleep-walking scene. oh, art like mine -will send the chills down every listener’s spine -and when i choose, salt tears shall freely flow -as in the moonlight i cry, ‘romeo! romeo -oh, wherefore art thou, romeo?’ -ay, ’tis done -my dream of home life - - -it is but begun - - -the heart but once can dream a dream so fair -and so henceforth love thoughts i do forswear -since faith in love has crumbled to the dust -in fame alone, i put my hope and trust - - - -here’s one who will explain yourself to you -and make that old sweet dream of love come true -fix up your foolish quarrel; time is brief— -so waste no more of it in doubt or grief - - -cupid (_in doorway - -warm lip to lip, and heart to beating heart -the cast is made—my lady has her part - - - - -is this the way to greet thy loving spouse -but now returned from scenes of blood and strife -i pray thee raise thy veil and let me gaze -upon that beauty which hath greater power -to conquer me than all the arts of war - - -my beauty! ay, my _beauty_! i do hold -in thy regard, no more an honoured place -than yonder marble pillar, or the gold -and jewelled wine-cup which thy lips caress -thou wouldst degrade me in the people’s sight - - -degrade thee, vashti? rather do i seek -to show my people who are gathered here -how, as the consort of so fair a queen -i feel more pride than as the mighty king -for there be many rulers on the earth -but only _one_ such queen. come, raise thy veil - - -ay! only _one_ such queen! a queen is one -who shares her husband’s greatness and his throne -i am no more than yonder dancing girl -who struts and smirks before a royal court -but i will loose my veil and loose my tongue -now listen, sire—my master and my king -and let thy princes and the court give ear -’tis time all heard how vashti feels her shame - - -shame is no word to couple with thy name -shame and a spotless woman may not meet -even in a sentence. choose another word - - -ay, _shame_, my lord—there is no synonym -that can give voice to my ignoble state -to be a thing for eyes to gaze upon -yet held an outcast from thy heart and mind -to hear my beauty praised but not my worth -to come and go at pleasure’s beck and call -while barred from wisdom’s conclaves! think ye _that -a noble calling for a noble dame -why, any concubine amongst thy train -could play my royal part as well as i— -were she as fair - - -queen vashti, art thou _mad -i would behead another did he dare -to so besmirch thee with comparison - -vashti (_to the court - -gaze now your fill! behold queen vashti’s eyes -how large they gleam beneath her inch of brow -how like a great white star, her splendid face -shines through the midnight forest of her hair -and see the crushed pomegranate of her mouth -observe her arms, her throat, her gleaming breasts -whereon the royal jewels rise and fall!— -and note the crescent curving of her hips -and lovely limbs suggested ’neath her robes -gaze, gaze, i say, for these have made her queen -she hath no mind, no heart, no dignity -worth royal recognition and regard -but her fair body approbation meets -and whets the sated appetite of kings -now ye have seen what she was bid to show -the queen hath played her part and begs to go - - -ay, vashti, go and never more return -not only hast thou wronged thine own true lord -and mocked and shamed me in the people’s eyes -but thou hast wronged all princes and all men -by thy pernicious and rebellious ways -queens act and subjects imitate. so let -queen vashti weigh her conduct and her words -or be no more called ‘queen!’ - - -i was a princess ere i was a queen -and worthy of a better fate than this -there lies the crown that made me queen in name -here stands the woman—wife in name alone -now, no more queen—nor wife—but woman still— -ay, and a woman strong enough to be -her own avenger - - - -tell me thy name - - -my name, great sire, is esther - - -so thou art esther? esther! ’tis a name -breathed into sound as softly as a sigh -a woman’s name should melt upon the lips -like love’s first kisses, and thy countenance -is fit companion for so sweet a name - - -thou art most kind. i would my name and face -were mine own making and not accident -then i might feel elated at thy praise -where now i feel confusion - - -thou hast wit -as well as beauty, esther. both are gems -that do embellish woman in man’s sight -yet they are gems of second magnitude -dost _thou_ possess the one great perfect gem— -the matchless jewel of the world called _love - - -sire, in the heart of every woman dwells -that wondrous perfect gem - - -then, esther, speak -and tell me what is _love_! i fain would know -thy definition of that much-mouthed word -by woman most employed—least understood - - -what can a humble jewish maiden know -that would instruct a warrior and a king -i have but dreamed of love as maidens will -while thou hast known its fulness. all the world -loves great ahasueras - - -all the world -are rarely loved as anything but kings -love, as i see it in the court and camp -means seeking royal favour. i would know -how love is fashioned in a maiden’s dreams - - -sire, love seeks nothing that kings can bestow -love is the king of all kings here below -love makes the monarch but a bashful boy -love makes the peasant monarch in his joy -love seeks not place, all places are the same -when lighted by the radiance of love’s flame -who deems proud love could fawn to power and splendour -hath known not love, but some base-born pretender - - -if this be love, i would know more of it -speak on, fair esther! what is love beside - - -love is in all things, all things are in love -love is the earth, the sea, the skies above -love is the bird, the blossom, and the wind -love hath a million eyes, yet love is blind -love is a tempest, awful in its might -love is the silence of a moon-lit night -love is the aim of every human soul -and he who hath not loved hath missed life’s goal - - -but tell me of thyself, of thine own dreams -how wouldst thou love, and how be loved again - - -who most doth love thinks least of love’s return -she is content to feel the passion burn -in her own bosom, and its sacred fire -consumes each selfish purpose and desire -’tis in the giving, love’s best rapture lies -not in the counting of the things it buys - - -yet, is there not vast anguish and despair -in love that finds no answering word or smile - - -so radiant is love, it lends a glow -to each dark sorrow and to every woe -to love completely is to part with pain -nor is there mortal who can love in vain -love is its own reward, it pays full measure -and in love’s sharpest grief lies subtlest pleasure - - -methinks, a mighty warrior, lord or king -must in thy fancy play the lover’s part -none else could wake such reverential thought - - -when woman loves one born of lowly state -her thought gives crown and sceptre to her mate -yet be he king, or chief of some great clan -she loves him but as woman loves a man -monarch or peasant, ’tis the same, i wis -when once she gives him love’s surrendering kiss - - - -what were thy thoughts, sweet esther? something passed -across thy face, that for a moment veiled -thy soul from mine, and left me desolate -thy thoughts were not of me - - -ay, _all_ of thee -i wondered, if in truth, thou wert content -with me—thy choice. was there no other one -of all who passed before thee at thy court -whose memory pursues thee with regret - - -i do confess i much regret that day -and wish i could relive it - - -oh! my lord - - -yea! i regret those hours i wasted on -the poor procession that preceded thee -hadst thou come first, then all the added wealth - -of one long day of loving thee were mine— -a boundless fortune squandered. though i live -to three score years and ten, as i do hope -in wedded love beside thee, that one day -was filched from me and cannot be restored - - -and then to think how frightened and abashed -i hung outside thy gates from early morn -not daring to go in and meet thine eyes -till pitying twilight clothed me in her veil -and evening walked beside me to thy door - - -so it was thou, fair thief, who stole that day -and made me poorer, by—how many hours - - -full eight, i think. they seemed a hundred then -and now time flies a hundred times too fast - - -then eight more kisses do i claim from thee -this very hour—first tithes of many due -i shall exact these payments as i will -and if they be not ready on demand -i’ll lock thee in the prison of my arms -like this—and take them so—and so—and so - - -but kings must think of other things than love -and live for other aims than happiness -i would not drag thee from thy altitude -of mighty ruler and great conqueror -to chain thee by my side - - -such slavery -would please me better than to conquer earth -without thee, esther. i have stood on heights -and heard the cheers of multitudes below -have known the loneliness of being great -now, let me live and love thee, like a man -forgetting i am king— -i am content - - -content is not the pathway to great deeds -as man, i hold thee higher than all kings -as king, thou must stand higher than all men -in other eyes. let no one say of me -‘she spoiled his greatness by her littleness -she made a languorous lover of a king -and silenced war-cries on commanding lips— -with honeyed kisses; made her woman’s arms -preferred to armour, and her couch to tents -until the kingdom, with no guiding hand -plunged down to ruin.’ - - -thou wouldst have me go— -so soon thy heart hath wearied - - -my heart is bursting with its love for thee -canst thou not feel its fervour? but great men -need wiser guidance than a woman’s heart -my pride in thee is equal to my love -and i would have thee greater than thou art— -ay, greater than all other men on earth— -though forced long years to feed my hungry heart -on food of memories and wine of tears -wert thou but winning glory and renown - - -thou art most noble, esther; thou art fit -to be the consort of a king of kings -but i have chewed upon ambition’s husks -and starved for love through all my manhood’s years -and now the mighty gods have seen it fit -to spread love’s banquet and to name thee host -may i not feast my fill? o esther, take -the tempting nectar of those lips away -and give me wine to rouse the brute in me -to make me thirst for blood instead of love -wine! wine! i say - - -ahasueras, wait -methinks good music is wine turned to sound -here comes thy minstrel with an offering -pressed from the ripened fruit of my fond heart -mine own the words and mine the melody -and may it linger longer in thine ear -than on thy lip would stay the taste of wine -sing on - - -when from the field returning -love is a warrior’s yearning -love in his heart is burning -love is his dream -talk not to him of glory -speak not of faces gory -sing of love’s tender story -make it thy theme -sing of his lady’s tresses -sing of the smile that blesses -sing of the sweet caresses -and yet again -sing of fair children’s faces -sing of the dear home graces -sing till the vacant places -ring with thy strain -yet as the days go speeding -shall he arise unheeding -love songs or words of pleading -strong in his might -helmet and armour wearing -hies he to deeds of daring -forth to the battle faring -back to the fight -sing now of ranks contending -sing of loud voices blending -sing of great warriors sending -death to their foes -sing of war missiles humming -strike into martial drumming -sing of great victory coming -as forth he goes -back to the battle faring -back into deeds of daring -back to the fight - - -no less a lover but a greater man -a better warrior and a nobler king -i will be from this hour for thy dear sake - - -god finished woman in the twilight hour -and said, ‘to-morrow thou shalt find thy place -man’s complement, the mother of the race— -with love the motive power— -the one compelling power.’ - -all night she dreamed and wondered. with the light -her lover came—and then she understood -the purpose of her being. life was good -and all the world seemed right— -and nothing was, but right - -she had no wish for any wider sway -by all the questions of the world unvexed -supremely loving and superbly sexed -she passed upon her way— -her feminine fair way - -but god neglected, when he fashioned man -to fuse the molten splendour of his mind -with that sixth sense he gave to womankind -and so he marred his plan— -ay, marred his own great plan - -she asked so little, and so much she gave -that man grew selfish: and she soon became -to god’s great sorrow and the whole world’s shame -man’s sweet and patient slave— -his uncomplaining slave - -yet in the nights (oh! nights so dark and long -she clasped her little children to her breast -and wept. and in her anguish of unrest -she thought upon her wrong -she knew how great her wrong - -and one sad hour, she said unto her heart -‘since thou art cause of all my bitter pain -i bid thee abdicate the throne: let brain -rule now, and do his part— -his masterful, strong part.’ - -she wept no more. by new ambition stirred -her ways led out, to regions strange and vast -men stood aside and watched, dismayed, aghast -and all the world demurred— -misjudged her, and demurred - -still on and up, from sphere to widening sphere -till thorny paths bloomed with the rose of fame -who once demurred, now followed with acclaim -the hiss died in the cheer— -the loud applauding cheer - -she stood triumphant in that radiant hour -man’s mental equal, and competitor -but ah! the cost! from out the heart of her -had gone love’s motive power— -love’s all-compelling power - - -i dreamed a voice, of one god-authorised -cried loudly thro’ the world, ‘disarm! disarm!’ -and there was consternation in the camps -and men who strutted under braid and lace -beat on their medalled breasts, and wailed, ‘undone!’ -the word was echoed from a thousand hills -and shop and mill, and factory and forge -where throve the awful industries of death -hushed into silence. scrawled upon the doors -the passer read, ‘peace bids her children starve.’ -but foolish women clasped their little sons -and wept for joy, not reasoning like men - -again the voice commanded: ‘now go forth -and build a world for progress and for peace -this work has waited since the earth was shaped -but men were fighting, and they could not toil -the needs of life outnumber needs of death -leave death with god. go forth, i say, and build.’ - -and then a sudden, comprehensive joy -shone in the eyes of men; and one who thought -only of conquests and of victories -woke from his gloomy reverie and cried -‘ay, come and build! i challenge all to try -and i will make a world more beautiful -than eden was before the serpent came.’ -and like a running flame on western wilds -ambition spread from mind to listening mind -and lo! the looms were busy once again -and all the earth resounded with men’s toil - -vast palaces of science graced the world -their banquet tables spread with feasts of truth -for all who hungered. music kissed the air -once rent with boom of cannons. statues gleamed -from wooded ways, where ambushed armies hid -in times of old. the sea and air were gay -with shining sails that soared from land to land -a universal language of the world -made nations kin, and poverty was known - -but as a word marked ‘obsolete,’ like war -the arts were kindled with celestial fire -new poets sang so homer’s fame grew dim -and brush and chisel gave the wondering race -sublimer treasures than old greece displayed -men differed still; fierce argument arose -for men are human in this human sphere -but unarmed arbitration stood between -and reason settled in a hundred hours -what war disputed for a hundred years - -oh, that a voice, of one god-authorised -might cry to all mankind, disarm! disarm - - -once in a time of trouble and of care -i dreamed i talked with god about my pain -with sleepland courage, daring to complain -of what i deemed ungracious and unfair -‘lord, i have grovelled on my knees in prayer -hour after hour,’ i cried; ‘yet all in vain -no hand leads up to heights i would attain -no path is shown me out of my despair.’ - -then answered god: ‘three things i gave to thee— -clear brain, brave will, and strength of mind and heart -all implements divine, to shape the way -why shift the burden of thy toil on me -till to the utmost he has done his part -with all his might, let no man _dare_ to pray.’ - - -two thousand years had passed since christ was born -when suddenly there rose a mighty host -of women, sweeping to a central goal -as many rivers sweep on to the sea -they came from mountains, valleys, and from coasts -and from all lands, all nations, and all ranks -speaking all languages, but thinking one -and that one language—peace - -‘listen,’ they said -and straightway was there silence on the earth -for men were dumb with wonder and surprise -‘listen, o mighty masters of the world -and hear the edict of all womankind -since christ his new commandment gave to men -have passed away, yet earth is red with blood -the strong male rulers of the world proclaim -their weakness, when we ask that war shall cease -now will the poor weak women of the world -proclaim their strength, and say that war shall end -hear, then, our edict: never from this day -will any woman on the crust of earth -mother a warrior. we have sworn the oath -and will go barren to the waiting tomb -rather than breed strong sons at war’s behest -or bring fair daughters into life, to bear -the pains of travail, for no end but war -ay! let the race die out for lack of babes -better a dying race than endless wars -better a silent world than noise of guns -and clash of armies - -‘long we asked for peace -and oft you promised—but to fight again -at last you told us, war must ever be -while men existed, laughing at our plea -for the disarmament of all mankind -then in our hearts flamed such a mad desire -for peace on earth, as lights the world at times -with some great conflagration; and it spread -from distant land to land, from sea to sea -until all women thought as with one mind -and spoke as with one voice; and now behold -the great crusading syndicate of peace -filling all space with one supreme resolve -give us, o men, your word that war shall end -disarm the world, and we will give you sons— -sons to construct, and daughters to adorn -a beautiful new earth, where there shall be -fewer and finer people, opulence -and opportunity and peace for all -until you promise peace no shrill birth-cry -shall sound again upon the aging earth -we wait your answer.’ - -and the world was still -while men considered - - -at times i am the mother of the world -and mine seem all its sorrows, and its fears -that rose, which in each mother-heart is curled -the rose of pity, opens with my tears -and, waking in the night, i lie and hark -to the lone sobbing, and the wild alarms -of my world-child, a wailing in the dark -the child i fain would shelter in my arms -i call to it (as from another room -a mother calls, what time she cannot go -‘sleep well, dear world; love hides behind this gloom -there is no need for wakefulness or woe -the long, long night is almost past and gone -the day is near.’ and yet the world weeps on - -again i follow it, throughout the day -with anxious eyes i see it trip and fall -and hurt itself in many a foolish way -childlike, unheeding warning word or call -i see it grasp, and grasping, break the toys -it cried to own, then toss them on the floor -and, breathless, hurry after fancied joys -that cease to please, when added to its store -i see the lacerations on its hands -made by forbidden tools; but when it weeps -i also weep, as one who understands -and having been a child, the memory keeps -ah, my poor world, however wrong thy part -still is there pity in my mother-heart - - -i cried, ‘dear angel, lead me to the heights -and spur me to the top.’ -the angel answered, ‘stop -and set thy house in order; make it fair -for absent ones who may be speeding there -then will we talk of heights.’ - -i put my house in order. ‘now lead on!’ -the angel said, ‘not yet -thy garden is beset -by thorns and tares; go weed it, so all those -who come to gaze may find the unvexed rose -then will we journey on.’ - -i weeded well my garden. ‘all is done.’ -the angel shook his head -‘a beggar stands,’ he said -‘outside thy gates; till thou hast given heed -and soothed his sorrow, and supplied his need -say not that all is done.’ - -the beggar left me singing. ‘now at last— -at last the path is clear.’ -‘nay, there is one draws near -who seeks, like thee, the difficult highway -he lacks thy courage; cheer him through the day -then will we cry, “at last!”’ - -i helped my weaker brother. ‘now the heights -oh, guide me, angel, guide!’ -the presence at my side -with radiant face, said, ‘look, where are we now?’ -and lo! we stood upon the mountain’s brow— -the heights, the shining heights - - -not great vesuvius, in all his ire -nor all the centuries, could hide your shame -there is the little window where you came -with eyes that woke the demon of desire -and lips like rose leaves, fashioned out of fire -and from the lava leaps the molten flame -of your old sins. the walls cry out your name— -your face seems rising from the funeral pyre - -there must have dwelt, within your fated town -full many a virtuous dame, and noble wife -who made your beauty seem as star to sun -how strange the centuries have handed down -your name, fair julia, of immoral life -and left the others to oblivion - - -master of sweet and loving lore -give us the open mind -to know religion means no more -no less, than being kind - -give us the comprehensive sight -that sees another’s need -and let our aim to set things right -prove god inspired our creed - -give us the soul to know our kin -that dwell in flock and herd -the voice to fight man’s shameful sin -against the beast and bird - -give us a heart with love so fraught -for all created things -that even our unspoken thought -bears healing on its wings - -give us religion that will cope -with life’s colossal woes -and turn a radiant face of hope -on troops of pigmy foes - -give us the mastery of our fate -in thoughts so warm and white -they stamp upon the brows of hate -love’s glorious seal of light - -give us the strong, courageous faith -that makes of pain a friend -and calls the secret word of death -‘beginning,’ and not ‘end.’ - - -what is right living? just to do your best -when worst seems easier. to bear the ills -of daily life with patient cheerfulness -nor waste dear time recounting them -to talk -of hopeful things when doubt is in the air -to count your blessings often, giving thanks -and to accept your sorrows silently -nor question why you suffer. to accept -the whole of life as one perfected plan -and welcome each event as part of it -to work, and love your work; to trust, to pray -for larger usefulness and clearer sight -this is right living, pleasing in god’s eyes -though you be heathen, heretic or jew - - -however inexplicable may seem -event and circumstance upon this earth -though favours fall on those whom none esteem -and insult and indifference greet worth -though poverty repays the life of toil -and riches spring where idle feet have trod -and storms lay waste the patiently tilled soil— -yet justice sways the universe of god - -as undisturbed the stately stars remain -beyond the glare of day’s obscuring light -so justice dwells, though mortal eyes in vain -seek it persistently by reason’s sight -but when, once freed, the illumined soul looks out -its cry will be, ‘o god, how could i doubt!’ - - -time looked me in the eyes while passing by -the milestone of the year. that piercing gaze -was both an accusation and reproach -no speech was needed. in a sorrowing look -more meaning lies than in complaining words -and silence hurts as keenly as reproof - -oh, opulent, kind giver of rich hours -how have i used thy benefits! as babes -unstring a necklace, laughing at the sound -of priceless jewels dropping one by one -so have i laughed while precious moments rolled -into the hidden corners of the past -and i have let large opportunities -for high endeavour move unheeded by -while little joys and cares absorbed my strength - -and yet, dear time, set to my credit this - -be patient with me. though the sun slants west -the day has not yet finished, and i feel -necessity for action and resolve -bear in upon my consciousness. i know -the earth’s eternal need of earnest souls -and the great hunger of the world for love -i know the goal to high achievement lies -through the dull pathway of self-conquest first -and on the stairs of little duties done -we climb to joys that stand thy test. o time -be patient with me, and another day -perchance, in passing by, thine eyes may smile - - -in what i do i note the marring flaw -the imperfections of the work i see -nor am i one who rather _do_ than _be -since its reversal is creation’s law - -nay, since there lies a better and a worse -a lesser and a larger, in men’s view -i would be better than the thing i do -as god is greater than his universe - -he shaped himself before he shaped one world -a million eons, toiling day and night -he built himself to majesty and might -before the planets into space were hurled - -and when creation’s early work was done -what crude beginnings out of chaos came— -a formless nebula, a wavering flame -an errant comet, a voracious sun - -and, still unable to perfect his plan -what awful creatures at his touch found birth— -those protoplasmic monsters of the earth -that owned the world before he fashioned man - -and now, behold the poor unfinished state -of this, his latest masterpiece! then why -be troubled that no voice proclaims it great - -before me lie the cycling rounds of years -with this small earth will die the thing i do -the thing i am, goes journeying onward through -a million lives, upon a million spheres - -my work i build, as best i can and may -knowing all mortal effort ends in dust -i build myself, not as i may, but must -knowing, or good, or ill, that self must stay - -along the ages, out, and on, afar -its journey leads, and must perforce be made -likewise its choice, with things of shame and shade -or up the path of light, from star to star - -when all these solar systems shall disperse -perchance this labour, and this self-control -may find reward; and my completed soul -will fling in space, a little universe - - -art thou alive? nay, not too soon reply -tho’ hand, and foot, and lip, and ear, and eye -respond, and do thy bidding yet may be -grim death has done his direst work with thee -life, as god gives it, is a thing apart -from active body and from beating heart -it is the vital spark, the unseen fire -that moves the mind to reason and aspire -it is the force that bids emotion roll -in mighty billows from the surging soul - -it is the light that grows from hour to hour -and floods the brain with consciousness of power -it is the spirit dominating all -and reaching god with its imperious call -until the shining glory of his face -illuminates each sorrowful, dark place - -it is the truth that sets the bondsman free -knowing he will be what he wills to be -with its unburied dead the earth is sad -art thou alive? proclaim it and be glad -perchance the dead may hear thee and arise -knowing they live, and _here_ is paradise - - -i love this age of energy and force -expectantly i greet each pregnant hour -emerging from the all-creative source -supreme with promise, imminent with power -the strident whistle and the clanging bell -the noise of gongs, the rush of motored things -are but the prophet voices which foretell -a time when thought may use unfettered wings - -too long the drudgery of earth has been -a barrier ’twixt man and his own mind -remove the stone, and lo! the christ within -for he is there, and who so seeks shall find -the great inventor is the modern priest -he paves the pathway to a higher goal -once from the grind of endless toil released -man will explore the kingdom of his soul - -and all this restless rush, this strain and strife -this noise and glare is but the fanfarade -that ushers in the more majestic life -where faith shall walk with science, unafraid -i feel the strong vibrations of the earth -i sense the coming of an hour sublime -and bless the star that watched above my birth -and let me live in this important time - - -unto each mortal who comes to earth -a ladder is given by god, at birth -and up this ladder the soul must go -step by step, from the valley below -step by step, to the centre of space -on this ladder of lives, to the starting place - -in time departed (which yet endures -i shaped my ladder, and you shaped yours -whatever they are—they are what we made -a ladder of light, or a ladder of shade -a ladder of love, or a hateful thing -a ladder of strength, or a wavering string -a ladder of gold, or a ladder of straw -each is the ladder of righteous law - -we flung them away at the call of death -we took them again with the next life breath -for a keeper stands by the great birth gates -as each soul passes, its ladder waits -though mine be narrow, and yours be broad -on my ladder alone can i climb to god -on your ladder alone can your feet ascend -for none may borrow, and none may lend - -if toil and trouble and pain are found -twisted and corded, to form each round -if rusted iron or mouldering wood -is the fragile frame, you must make it good -you must build it over and fashion it strong -though the task be hard as your life is long -for up this ladder the pathway leads -to earthly pleasures and spirit needs -and all that may come in another way -shall be but illusion, and will not stay - -in useless effort, then, waste no time -rebuild your ladder, and climb and climb - - -who is a christian in this christian land -of many churches and of lofty spires -not he who sits in soft upholstered pews -bought by the profits of unholy greed -and looks devotion, while he thinks of gain -not he who sends petitions from the lips -that lie to-morrow in the street and mart -not he who fattens on another’s toil -and flings his unearned riches to the poor -or aids the heathen with a lessened wage -and builds cathedrals with an increased rent - -christ, with thy great, sweet, simple creed of love -how must thou weary of earth’s ‘christian’ clans -who preach salvation through thy saving blood -while planning slaughter of their fellow men -who is a christian? it is one whose life -is built on love, on kindness and on faith -who holds his brother as his other self -and hides no aim or purpose in his heart -that will not chord with universal good - -though he be pagan, heretic or jew -that man is christian and beloved of christ - - -all your wonderful inventions -all your houses vast and tall -all your great gun-fronted vessels -every fort and every wall -with the passing of the ages -they shall pass and they shall fall - -as you sit among the idols -that your avarice gave birth -as you count the hoarded treasures -that you think of priceless worth -time is digging tombs to hide them -in the bosom of the earth - -there shall come a great convulsion -or a rushing tidal wave -or a sound of mighty thunders -from a subterranean cave -and a boasting world’s possessions -shall be buried in one grave - -from the centuries of silence -we are bringing back again -buried vase and bust and column -and the gods they worshipped then -in the strange unmentioned cities -built by prehistoric men - -did they steal, and lie, and slaughter -did they steep their souls in shame -did they sell eternal virtues -just to win a passing fame -did they give the gold of honour -for the tinsel of a name - -we are hurrying all together -toward the silence and the night -there is nothing worth the seeking -but the sun-kissed moral height— -there is nothing worth the doing -but the doing of the _right - - -i asked the rock beside the road what joy existence lent -it answered, ‘for a million years my heart has been content.’ - -i asked the truffle-seeking swine, as rooting by he went -‘what is the keynote of your life?’ he grunted out, ‘content.’ - -i asked a slave, who toiled and sung, just what his singing meant -he plodded on his changeless way, and said, ‘i am content.’ - -i asked a plutocrat of greed, on what his thoughts were bent -he chinked the silver in his purse, and said, ‘i am content.’ - -i asked the mighty forest tree from whence its force was sent -its thousand branches spoke as one, and said, ‘from discontent.’ - -i asked the message speeding on, by what great law was rent -god’s secret from the waves of space. it said, ‘from discontent.’ - -i asked the marble, where the works of god and man were blent -what brought the statue from the block. it answered, ‘discontent.’ - -i asked an angel, looking down on earth with gaze intent -how man should rise to larger growth. quoth he, ‘through discontent.’ - - -slowly the people waken; they have been -like weary soldiers, sleeping in their tents -while traitors tiptoed through the silent camp -intent on plunder. suddenly a sound— -a careless movement of too bold a thief— -starts one dull sleeper; then another stirs -a third cries out a warning, and at last -the people are awake! oh, when as one -the many rise, united and alert -with justice for their motto, they reflect -the mighty force of god’s omnipotence -and nothing stands before them. lusty greed -tyrannical corruption long in power -and smirking cant (whose right hand robs and slays -so that the left may dower church and school -monopoly, whose mandate took from toil -the mother earth, that idleness might loll -and breed the monster of colossal wealth— -all these must fall before the gathering force -of public indignation. that old strife -which marks the progress of each century -the war of right with might, is on once more -and shame to him who does not take his stand - -this is the weightiest moment of all time -and on the issues of the present hour -a nation’s honour and a country’s peace -a people’s future, ay, a world’s, depends - -until the vital questions of the day -are solved and settled, and the spendthrift thieves -who rob the coffers of the saving poor -are led from fashion’s feasts to prison fare -and taught the saving grace of honest work— -till labour claims the privilege of toil -and toil the proceeds of its labour shares— -let no man sleep, let no man dare to sleep - - -i am sorry in the gladness -of the joys that crown my days -for the souls that sit in sadness -or walk uninviting ways - -on the radiance of my labour -that a loving fate bestowed -falls the shadow of my neighbour -crushed beneath a thankless load - -as the canticle of pleasure -from my lovelit altar rolls -there is one discordant measure -as i think of homeless souls - -and i know that grim old story -preached from pulpits, is not so -for no god could sit in glory -and see sinners writhe below - -in that great eternal centre -where all human life has birth -boundless love and pity enter -and flow downward to the earth - -and all souls in sin or sorrow -are but passing through the night -and i know on some to-morrow -god will love them into light - - - -i heard a strange voice in the distance calling -as from a star an echo might be falling - -it spoke four syllables, concise and brief -charged with a god-sent message of relief - -hark to the new command and comfort borrow - -even as the master left his cross below -and rose to paradise, let go, let go - -forget your wrongs, your troubles and your losses -for with the tools of thought we build our crosses - -forget your griefs, all grudges and all fear -and enter paradise—its gates are near - -heaven is a realm by loving souls created -and hell was fashioned by the hearts that hated - -love, hope and trust; believe all joys are yours -life pays the soul whose confidence endures - -the blows of adverse fate, by larger pleasures -as after storms the soil yields fuller measures - -let go the cross; roll self—the stone—away -and dwell with love in paradise to-day - - -when the summer sun is shining -and the green things push and grow -oft my heart runs over measure -with its flowing fount of pleasure -as i feel the sea winds blow -ah, then life is good, i know - -and i think of sweet birds building -and of children fair and free -and of glowing sun-kissed meadows -and of tender twilight shadows -and of boats upon the sea -oh, then life seems good to me - -then unbidden and unwanted -come the darker, sadder sights -city shop and stifling alley -where misfortune’s children rally -and the hot crime-breeding nights -and the dearth of god’s delights - -and i think of narrow prisons -where unhappy songbirds dwell -and of cruel pens and cages -where some captured wild thing rages -like a madman in his cell -in the zoo, the wild beasts’ hell - -and i long to lift the burden -of man’s selfishness and sin -and to open wide earth’s treasures -of god’s storehouse, full of pleasures -for my dumb and human kin -and to ask the whole world in - - -between the ringing of bells and the musical clang of chimes -i hear a sound like the breaking of chains, all through these -christmas times -for the thought of the world is waking out of a slumber deep and long -and the race is beginning to understand how right can master wrong - -and the eyes of the world are opening wide, and great are the truths -they see -and the heart of the world is singing a song, and its burden is ‘be -free!’ -now the thought of the world and the wish of the world and the song of -the world will make -a force so strong that the fetters forged for a million years must -break - -fetters of superstitious fear have bound the race to creeds -that hindered the upward march of man to the larger faith he needs -fetters of greed and pride have made the race bow down to kings -but the pompous creed and the costly throne must yield to simpler -things - -the thought of the world has climbed above old paths for centuries -and cloth and crown no longer mean the ‘vested power of god.’ -the race no longer bends beneath the weight of adam’s sin -but stands erect and knows itself the maker’s first of kin - -and the need of the world and the wish of the world and the song of -the world i hear -all through the clanging and clashing of bells, this christmas time o’ -the year -and i hear a sound like the breaking of chains, and it seems to say to -in the voice of one who spoke of old, ‘the truth shall make men free.’ - - -upon december’s windy portico -the old year stood, and looked out where the sun -went wading down the west, through drifting clouds -‘i, too, shall sink full soon to rest,’ he sighed -‘and follow where my children’s feet have trod -brave january, beauteous may and june -my lovely daughters, and my valiant sons -all, all save one, have left me for that bourne -men call the past. it seems but yesterday -i saw fair august, laughing with the sea -snaring the earth with her seductive wiles -and making conquest, even of the sun -yet has she gone, and left me here to mourn.’ -then spake december, from an open door -‘father, the night grows cold; come in and rest -sit with me here beside this glowing grate -i have not left thee; thou art not alone -my house is thine; all warm with love and light -and bright with holly and with cedar sweet -my stalwart arm is thine to lean upon -the feast is spread, i only wait for thee -god smiles upon thy dead, smile thou on me.’ -then through the open door the old year passed -and darkness settled on the outer world - - -however certain of the way thou art -take not the self-appointed leader’s part -follow no man, and by no man be led -and no man lead. _awake_, and go ahead -thy path, though leading straight unto the goal -might prove confusing to another soul -the goal is central; but from east, and west -and north, and south, we set out on the quest -from lofty mountains, and from valleys low:— -how could all find one common way to go - -lord buddha to the wilderness was brought -lord jesus to the cross. and yet, think not -by solitude, or cross, thou canst achieve -lest in thine own true self thou dost believe -know thou art one, with life’s almighty source -then are thy feet set on the certain course - -nor does it matter if thou feast, or fast -or what thy creed—or where thy lot is cast -in halls of pleasure or in crowded mart -in city streets, or from all men apart— -thy path leads to the light; and peace and power -shall be thy portion, growing hour by hour -follow no man, and by no man be led -and no man lead. but _know_ and go ahead - - -what shall the leader be in that great day -when we who sleep and dream that we are slaves -shall wake and know that liberty is ours -mark well that word—not yours, not mine, but ours -for through the mingling of the separate streams -of individual protest and desire -in one united sea of purpose, lies -the course to freedom - -when progression takes -her undisputed right of way, and sinks -the old traditions and conventions where -they may not rise, what shall the leader be - -no mighty warrior skilled in crafts of war -sowing earth’s fertile furrows with dead men -and staining crimson god’s cerulean sea -to prove his prowess to a shuddering world - -nor yet a monarch with a silly crown -perched on an empty head, an in-bred heir -to senseless titles and anemic blood - -no ruler, purchased by the perjured votes -of striving demagogues whose god is gold -not one of these shall lead to liberty -the weakness of the world cries out for strength -the sorrow of the world cries out for hope -its suffering cries for kindness - -he who leads -must then be strong and hopeful as the dawn -that rises unafraid and full of joy -above the blackness of the darkest night -he must be kind to every living thing -kind as the krishna, buddha and the christ -and full of love for all created life -oh, not in war shall his great prowess lie -nor shall he find his pleasure in the chase -too great for slaughter, friend of man and beast -touching the borders of the unseen realms -and bringing down to earth their mystic fires -to light our troubled pathways, wise and kind -and human to the core, so shall he be -the coming leader of the coming time - - -hear thou my prayer, great god of opulence -give me no blessings, save as recompense -for blessings which i lovingly bestow -on needy stranger or on suffering foe -if wealth, by chance, should on my path appear -let wisdom and benevolence stand near -and charity within my portal wait -to guard me from acquaintance intimate - -yet in this intricate great art of living -guide me away from misdirected giving -and show me how to spur the laggard soul -to strive alone once more to gain the goal - -repay my worldly efforts to attain -only as i develop heart and brain -nor brand me with the ‘dollar sign’ above -a bosom void of sympathy and love - -if on the carrying winds my name be blown -to any land or time beyond my own -let it not be as one who gained the day -by crowding others from the chosen way -rather as one who missed the highest place -pausing to cheer spent runners in the race -the greater boon i ask, dear god, from thee - - -thank god for life, in such an age as this -rich with the promises of better things -thank god for being part of this great nation’s heart -whose strong pulsations are not ruled by kings - -our thanks for fearless and protesting speech -when cloven hoofs show ’neath the robes of state -for us no servile song of ‘kings can do no wrong.’ -not royal birth, but worth, makes rulers great - -thank god for peace within our border lands -and for the love of peace within each soul -who thinks on peace has wrought, mosaic-squares of thought -in the foundation of our future goal - -our thanks for love, and knowledge of love’s laws -love is a greater power than vested might -love is the central source of all enduring force -love is the law that sets the whole world right - -our thanks for that increasing torch of light -the tireless hand of science holds abroad -and may its growing blaze shine on all hidden ways -till man beholds the silhouette of god - - -i know it is early morning -and hope is calling aloud -and your heart is afire with youth’s desire -to hurry along with the crowd -but linger a bit by the roadside -and lend a hand by the way -’tis a curious fact that a generous act -brings leisure and luck to a day - -i know it is only the noontime— -there is chance enough to be kind -but the hours run fast when noon has passed -and the shadows are close behind -so think while the light is shining -and act ere the set of the sun -for the sorriest woe that a soul can know -is to think what it might have done - -i know it is almost evening -but the twilight hour is long -if you listen and heed each cry of need -you can right full many a wrong -for when we have finished the journey -we will all look back and say -‘on life’s long mile there was nothing worth while -but the good we did by the way.’ - - -when with clanging and with ringing -comes the year’s initial day -i can feel the rhythmic swinging -of the world upon its way -and though right still wears a fetter -and though justice still is blind -time’s beyond is always better -than the paths he leaves behind - -in our eons of existence -as we circle through the night -we annihilate the distance -’twixt the darkness and the light -from beginnings crude and lowly -round and round our souls have trod -through the circles, winding slowly -up to knowledge and to god - -with each century departed -some old evil found a tomb -some old truth was newly started -in propitious soil to bloom -with each epoch some condition -that has handicapped the race -unto knowledge yields its place - -though in folly and in blindness -and in sorrow still we grope -yet in man’s increasing kindness -lies the world’s stupendous hope -for our darkest hour of errors -is as radiant as the dawn -set beside the awful terrors -of the ages that have gone - -and above the sad world’s sobbing -and the strife of clan with clan -i can hear the mighty throbbing -of the heart of god in man -and a voice chants through the chiming -of the bells, and seems to say -we are climbing, we are climbing -as we circle on our way - - -life is a privilege. its youthful days -shine with the radiance of continuous mays -to live, to breathe, to wonder and desire -to feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire -to thrill with virtuous passions and to glow -with great ambitions—in one hour to know -the depths and heights of feeling—god! in truth -how beautiful, how beautiful is youth - -life is a privilege. like some rare rose -the mysteries of the human mind unclose -what marvels lie in earth and air and sea -what stores of knowledge wait our opening key -what sunny roads of happiness lead out -beyond the realms of indolence and doubt -and what large pleasures smile upon and bless -the busy avenues of usefulness - -life is a privilege. though noontide fades -and shadows fall along the winding glades -though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air -yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there -pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind -and in the serious hours of life we find -depths in the soul of men which lend new worth -and majesty to this brief span of earth - -life is a privilege. if some sad fate -sends us alone to seek the exit gate -if men forsake us as the shadows fall -still does the supreme privilege of all -come in that reaching upward of the soul -to find the welcoming presence at the goal -and in the knowledge that our feet have trod -paths that lead from and must lead back to god - - -before the statue of a giant hun -there stood a dwarf, misshapen and uncouth -his lifted eyes seemed asking: ‘why, in sooth -was i not fashioned like this mighty one -would god show favour to an older son -like earthly kings, and beggar without ruth -another, who sinned only by his youth -why should two lives in such divergence run?’ - -strange, as he gazed, that from a vanished past -no memories revived of war and strife -of misused prowess, and of broken law -that old hun’s spirit, in the dwarf re-cast -lived out the sequence of an earthly life - - -god, what a world, if men in street and mart -felt that same kinship of the human heart -which makes them, in the face of flame and flood -rise to the meaning of true brotherhood - - -among the virile hosts he passed along -conspicuous for an undetermined grace -of sexless beauty. in his form and face -god’s mighty purpose somehow had gone wrong -then on his loom, he wove a careful song -of sensuous threads; a wordy web of lace -wherein the primal passions of the race -and his own sins made wonder for the throng - -a little pen prick opened up a vein -and gave the finished mesh a crimson blot— -the last consummate touch of studied art -but those who knew strong passion and keen pain -looked through and through the pattern and found not -one single great emotion of the heart - - -when god had formed the universe, he thought -of all the marvels therein to be wrought -and to his aid then motherhood was brought - -‘my lesser self, the feminine of me -she will go forth throughout all time,’ quoth he -‘and make my world what i would have it be - -‘for i am weary, having laboured so -and for a cycle of repose would go -into that silence which but god may know - -‘therefore i leave the rounding of my plan -to motherhood; and that which i began -let woman finish in perfecting man - -‘she is the soil: the human mother earth -she is the sun, that calls the seed to earth -she is the gardener, who knows its worth - -‘from me, all seed, of any kind must spring -divine the growth such seed and soil will bring -for all is me, and i am everything.’ - -thus having spoken to himself aloud -his glorious face upon his breast he bowed -and sought repose behind a wall of cloud - -come forth, o god! though great thy thought and good -in shaping woman for true motherhood -lord, speak again; she has not understood - -the centuries pass: the cycles roll along— -the earth is peopled with a mighty throng -yet men are fighting and the world goes wrong - -lord, speak again, ere yet it be too late -unloved, unwanted souls come through earth’s gate -the unborn child is given a dower of hate - -thy world progresses in all ways save one -in motherhood, for which it was begun -lord, lord, behold how little has been done - -children are spawned like fishes in the sand -with ignorance and crime they fill the land -lord, speak again, till mothers understand - -it is not all of motherhood to know -conception pleasure or deliverance woe -who plants the seed should help the shoot to grow - -better a barren soil than weed and tare -or sickly plants that die for want of care -in poisonous jungles, void of sun and air - -true motherhood is not alone to breed -the human race; it is to know and heed -its holiest purpose and its highest need - -lord, speak again, so woman shall be stirred -with the full meaning of that mighty word -true motherhood. she has not rightly heard - - -unhoused in deserts of accepted thought -and lost in jungles of confusing creeds -my soul strayed, homeless, finding its own needs -unsatisfied with what tradition taught - -the pros and cons, the little ifs and ands -the but and maybe, and the this and that -on which the churches thicken and grow fat -i found but structures built on shifting sands - -and all their heavens were strange and far away -and all their hells were made of human hate -and since for death i did not care to wait -a heaven i fashioned for myself one day - -of happy thoughts i built it stone by stone -with joy of life i draped each spacious room -with love’s great light i drove away all gloom -and in the centre i made god a throne - -and this dear heaven i set within my heart -and carried it about with me alway -and then the changing dogmas of the day -seemed alien to my thoughts and held no part - -now as i take my heaven from place to place -i find new rooms by love’s revealing light -and death will give me but a larger sight -to see my palace spreading into space - - -on a bleak, bald hill with a dull world under -the dreary world of the commonplace -i have stood when the whole world seemed a blunder -of dotard time, in an aimless race -with worry about me and want before me— -yet deep in my soul was a rapture spring -that made me cry to the grey sky o’er me -‘oh, i know this life is a goodly thing!’ - -i have given sweet years to a thankless duty -while cold and starving, though clothed and fed -for a young heart’s hunger for joy and beauty -is harder to bear than the need of bread -i have watched the wane of a sodden season -which let hope wither, and made care thrive -and through it all, without earthly reason -i have thrilled with the glory of being alive - -and now i stand by the great sea’s splendour -where love and beauty feed heart and eye -the brilliant light of the sun grows tender -as it slants to the shore of the by and by -i prize each hour as a golden treasure— -a pearl time drops from a broken string -and all my ways are the ways of pleasure -and i know this life is a goodly thing - -and i know, too, that not in the seeing -or having, or doing the things we would -lies that deep rapture that comes from being -and not from pleasure the heart may borrow -that rare contentment for which we strive -unless through trouble, and want, and sorrow -it has thrilled with the glory of being alive - - -there is no summit you may not attain -no purpose which you may not yet achieve -if you will wait serenely and believe -each seeming loss is but a step toward gain - -between the mountain-tops lie vale and plain -let nothing make you question, doubt or grieve -give only good, and good alone receive -and as you welcome joy, so welcome pain - -that which you most desire awaits your word -throw wide the door and bid it enter in -speak, and the strong vibrations shall be stirred -speak, and above earth’s loud, unmeaning din -your silent declarations shall be heard -all things are possible to god’s own kin - - -talk not of strength, until your heart has known -and fought with weakness through long hours alone - -talk not of virtue, till your conquering soul -has met temptation and gained full control - -boast not of garments, all unscorched by sin -till you have passed, unscathed, through fires within - -oh, poor that pride the unscarred soldier shows -who safe in camp, has never faced his foes - - -a granite rock in the mountain side -gazed on the world and was satisfied -it watched the centuries come and go -it welcomed the sunlight, yet loved the snow -it grieved when the forest was forced to fall -yet joyed when steeples rose, white and tall -in the valley below it, and thrilled to hear -the voice of the great town roaring near - -when the mountain stream from its idle play -was caught by the mill wheel and borne away -and trained to labour, the grey rock mused -‘trees and verdure and stream are used -by man the master; but i remain -friend of the mountain, and star, and plain -unchanged forever by god’s decree -while passing centuries bow to me.’ - -then all unwarned, with a mighty shock -out of the mountain was wrenched the rock -bruised and battered and broken in heart -it was carried away to the common mart -wrecked and ruined in piece and pride -‘oh, god is cruel,’ the granite cried -‘comrade of mountains, of stars the friend -by all deserted, how sad my end.’ - -a dreaming sculptor in passing by -gazed at the granite with thoughtful eye -then stirred with a purpose supremely grand -he bade his dream in the rock expand -and lo! from the broken and shapeless mass -that grieved and doubted, it came to pass -that a glorious statue of priceless worth -and infinite beauty, adorned the earth - - -‘_since sinus crossed the milky way_, _sixty thousand years have - -since sirius crossed the milky way -full sixty thousand years have gone -yet hour by hour, and day by day -this tireless star speeds on and on - -methinks he must be moved to mirth -by that droll tale of genesis -which says creation had its birth -for such a puny world as this - -to hear how one who fashioned all -those solar systems, tier on tiers -expressed in little adam’s fall -the purpose of a million spheres - -and, witness of the endless plan -to splendid wrath he must be wrought -by pigmy creeds presumptuous man -sends forth as god’s primeval thought - -perchance from half a hundred stars -he hears as many curious things -from venus, jupiter and mars -and saturn with the beauteous rings - -there may be students of the cause -who send their revelations out -and formulate their codes of laws -with heavens for faith and hells for doubt - -on planets old ere form or place -was lent to earth, may dwell—who knows— -a god-like and perfected race -that hails great sirius as he goes - -in zones that circle moon and sun -’twixt world and world, he may see souls -whose span of earthly life is done -still journeying up to higher goals - -and on dead planets grey and cold -grim spectral souls, that harboured hate -life after life, he may behold -descending to a darker fate - -and on his grand majestic course -he may have caught one glorious sight -of that vast shining central source -from which proceeds all life, all light - -since sirius crossed the milky way -full sixty thousand years have gone -no mortal man may bid him stay -no mortal man may speed him on - -no mortal mind may comprehend -what is beyond, what was before -to god be glory without end -let man be humble and adore - - -at fontainebleau, i saw a little bed -fashioned of polished wood, with gold ornate -ambition, hope, and sorrow, ay, and hate -once battled there, above a childish head -and there in vain, grief wept, and memory plead -it was so small! but ah, dear god, how great -the part it played in one sad woman’s fate -how wide the gloom, that narrow object shed - -the symbol of an over-reaching aim -the emblem of a devastated joy -it spoke of glory, and a blasted home -of fleeting honours, and disordered fame -and the lone passing of a fragile boy - - - -look in the eyes of trouble with a smile -extend your hand and do not be afraid -’tis but a friend who comes to masquerade -and test your faith and courage for awhile - -fly, and he follows fast with threat and jeer -shrink, and he deals hard blow on stinging blow -but bid him welcome as a friend, and lo -the jest is off—the masque will disappear - - -is the way hard and thorny, oh, my brother -do tempests beat, and adverse wild winds blow -and are you spent, and broken, at each nightfall -yet with each morn you rise and onward go -brother, i know, i know -i, too, have journeyed so - -is your heart mad with longing, oh, my sister -are all great passions in your breast aglow -does the white wonder of your own soul blind you -and are you torn with rapture and with woe -sister, i know, i know -i, too, have suffered so - -is the road filled with snare and quicksand, pilgrim -do pitfalls lie where roses seem to grow -and have you sometimes stumbled in the darkness -and are you bruised and scarred by many a blow -pilgrim, i know, i know -i, too, have stumbled so - -do you send out rebellious cry and question -as mocking hours pass silently and slow -does your insistent ‘wherefore’ bring no answer -while stars wax pale with watching, and droop low -i, too, have questioned so -but now _i know_, _i know -to toil, to strive, to err, to cry, to grow - - -when from the prison of its body free -my soul shall soar, before it goes to thee -thou great creator, give it power to know -the language of all sad, dumb things below -and let me dwell a season still on earth -before i rise to some diviner birth -invisible to men, yet seen and heard -and understood by sorrowing beast and bird— -invisible to men, yet always near -to whisper counsel in the human ear -and with a spell to stay the hunter’s hand -and stir his heart to know and understand -to plant within the dull or thoughtless mind -the great religious impulse to be kind - -before i prune my spirit wings and rise -to seek my loved ones in their paradise -yea! even before i hasten on to see -that lost child’s face, so like a dream to me -i would be given this intermediate role -and carry comfort to each poor, dumb soul -and bridge man’s gulf of cruelty and sin -by understanding of his lower kin -’twixt weary driver and the straining steed -on wings of mercy would my spirit speed -and each should know, before his journey’s end -that in the other dwelt a loving friend -from zoo and jungle, and from cage and stall -i would translate each inarticulate call -each pleading look, each frenzied act and cry -and tell the story to each passer-by -and of a spirit’s privilege possessed -pursue indifference to its couch of rest -and whisper in its ear until in awe -it woke and knew god’s all-embracing law -of universal life—the one in all - - - -‘hurry up!’ -no lingering by old doors of doubt— -no loitering by the way -no waiting a to-morrow car -when you can board to-day -success is somewhere down the track -before the chance is gone -accelerate your laggard pace -swing on, i say, swing on— -hurry up - -‘step lively!’ -belated souls are following fast -they shout and signal, ‘wait.’ -conductor time brooks no delay -he rings the bell of fate -but you can give the man behind -with one hand on the bar -a final chance to brook defeat -and board the moving car -step lively - -‘move up!’ -make way for others as you sit -or stand. this crowded earth -has room for every journeying soul -en route to higher birth -ay, room and comfort, if no one -took double share or space -nor let his greed and selfishness -absorb another’s place -move up - -‘hold fast!’ -the jolting switch of obstacles -with jarring rails is near -stand firm of foot, be strong of grip -brace well and have no fear -the maker of the car of life -foresaw that curve—despair -and hung the straps of faith, and hope -so you might grasp them there -hold fast - - -send forth your heart’s desire, and work and wait -the opportunities of life are brought -to our own doors, not by capricious fate -but by the strong compelling force of thought - - -the wonderful age of the world i sing— -the age of battery, coil and spring -of steam, and storage, and motored thing - -though faith may slumber and art seem dead -and all that is spoken has once been said -and all that is written were best unread - -though hearts are iron and thoughts are steel -and all that has value is mercantile -yet marvellous truths shall the age reveal - -ay, greater the marvels this age shall find -than all the centuries left behind -when faith was a bigot and art was blind - -oh, sorry the search of the world for gods -through faith that slaughters and art that lauds -while reason sits on its throne and nods - -but out of the leisure that men will know -when the cruel things of the sad earth go -a faith that is knowledge shall rise and grow - -in the throb and whir of each new machine -thinner is growing the veil between -the visible earth and the worlds unseen - -the true religion shall leisure bring -and art shall awaken and love shall sing -oh, ho! for the age of the motored thing - - - -‘the night is cold, the hour is late, the world is bleak and drear -who is it knocking at my door?’ - - -‘i am good cheer.’ - - -‘your voice is strange; i know you not; in shadows dark i grope -what seek you here?’ - - -‘friend, let me in; my name is hope.’ - - -‘and mine is failure; you but mock the life you seek to bless -pass on.’ - - -‘nay, open wide the door; i am success.’ - - -‘but i am ill and spent with pain; too late has come your wealth -i cannot use it.’ - - -‘listen, friend; i am good health.’ - - -‘now, wide i fling my door. come in, and your fair statements -prove.’ - - -‘but you must open, too, your heart, for i am love.’ - - -we have outgrown the helmet and cuirass -the spear, the arrow, and the javelin -these crude inventions of a cruder age -when men killed men to show their love of god -and he who slaughtered most was greatest king -we have outgrown the need of war -should men -unite in this one thought, all war would end - -disarm the world; and let all nations meet -like men, not monsters, when disputes arise -when crossed opinions tangle into snarls -let courts untie them, and not armies cut -when state discussions breed dissensions, let -union and arbitration supersede -the hell-created implements of war -disarm the world! and bid destructive thought -slip like a serpent from the mortal mind -down through the marshes of oblivion. soon -a race of gods shall rise! disarm! disarm - - -all wantonly in hours of joy -i made a song of pain -soon grief drew near, and paused to hear -and sang the sad refrain -again and yet again - -then recklessly in my despair -i sang of hope one day -and joy turned back upon life’s track -and smiled, and came my way -and sat her down to stay - - -oh, a great world, a fair world, a true world i find it -a sun that never forgets to rise -on the darkest night, a star in the skies -and a god of love behind it - -oh, a good life, a sweet life, a large life i take it -is what he offers to you, and me -a chance to do, and a chance to be -whatever we chose to make it - -oh, a far way, a high way, a sure way he leads us -and if the journey at times seems long -we must trudge ahead, with a trustful song -and know at the end he needs us - - - - -the world is full of selfishness and greed -lord, i would lave its sin - - -yea, mortal, earth of thy good help has need -go cleanse _thyself_ within - - -mine ear is hurt by harsh and evil speech -i would reform men’s ways - - -there is but one convincing way to teach -speak _thou_ but words of praise - - -on every hand is wretchedness and grief -despondency and fear -lord, i would give my fellow men relief - - -be, then, all hope, all cheer - - -lord, i look outward and grow sick at heart -such need of change i see - - -mortal, look _in_. do thy allotted part - - -a weed is but an unloved flower -go dig, and prune, and guide, and wait -until it learns its high estate -and glorifies some bower -a weed is but an unloved flower - -all sin is virtue unevolved -release the angel from the clod— -go love thy brother up to god -behold each problem solved -all sin is virtue unevolved - - -who is the strong? not he who puts to test -his sinews with the strong and proves the best -but he who dwells where weaklings congregate -and never lets his splendid strength abate - -who is the good? not he who walks each day -with moral men along the high, clean way -but he who jostles gilded sin and shame -yet will not sell his honour or his name - -who is the wise? not he who from the start -with wisdom’s followers has taken part -but he who looks in folly’s tempting eyes -and turns away, perceiving her disguise - -who is serene? not he who flees his kind -some mountain fastness, or some cave to find -but he who in the city’s noisiest scene -keeps calm within—he only is serene - - -body and mind, and spirit, all combine -to make the creature, human and divine - -of this great trinity no part deny - -affirm the body, beautiful and whole -the earth-expression of immortal soul - -affirm the mind, the messenger of the hour -to speed between thee and the source of power - -affirm the spirit, the eternal i— -of this great trinity no part deny - - -they stood before the angel at the gate -the angel asked: ‘why should you enter in?’ -one said: ‘on earth my place was high and great;’ -and one: ‘i warned my fellow-men from sin;’ -another: ‘i was teacher of the faith -i scorned my life and lived in love with death.’ - -and one stood silent. ‘speak!’ the angel said -‘what earthly deed has sent you here to-day?’ -‘alas! i did but follow where they led,’ -he answered sadly: ‘i had lost my way— -so new the country, and so strange my flight -i only sought for guidance and for light.’ - -‘you have no passport?’ ‘none,’ the answer came -‘i loved the earth, tho’ lowly was my lot -i strove to keep my record free from blame -and make a heaven about my humble spot -a narrow life; i see it now, too late -so, angel, drive me from the heavenly gate.’ - -the angel swung the portal wide and free -and took the sorrowing stranger by the hand -‘nay, you alone,’ he said, ‘shall come with me -of all this waiting and insistent band -of what god gave, you built your paradise -behold your mansion waiting in the skies.’ - - -unnumbered gods may unremembered die -a thousand creeds may perish and pass by -yet do i lift mine eyes to one on high - -unnamed be he from whom creation came -there is no word whereby to speak his name -but petty men have mouthed it into shame - -i lift mine eyes, and with a river’s force -my love’s full tide goes sweeping on its course -to that supreme and all-embracing source - -then back through all those thirsting channels roll -the mighty billows of the over soul -and i am he, the portion and the whole - -as little streams before the flood-tide flee -as rivers vanish to become the sea - - -oh, a word is a gem, or a stone, or a song -or a flame, or a two-edged sword -or a rose in bloom, or a sweet perfume -or a drop of gall, is a word - -you may choose your word like a connoisseur -and polish it up with art -but the word that sways, and stirs, and stays -is the word that comes from the heart - -you may work on your word a thousand weeks -but it will not glow like one -that all unsought, leaps forth white hot -when the fountains of feeling run - -you may hammer away on the anvil of thought -and fashion your word with care -but unless you are stirred to the depths, that word -shall die on the empty air - -for the word that comes from the brain alone -alone to the brain will speed -but the word that sways, and stirs, and stays -oh! that is the word men heed - - -lean on no mortal, love, and serve -but it was never god’s intent -your spirit from its path should swerve -to gain another’s point of view -as well might jupiter, or mars -go seeking help from other stars -instead of sweeping on, as you -look to the great eternal cause -and not to any man, for light -look in; and learn the wrong, and right -from your own soul’s unwritten laws -and when you question, or demur -let love be your interpreter - - -if fallacies come knocking at my door -i’d rather feed, and shelter full a score -than hide behind the black portcullis, doubt -and run the risk of barring one truth out - -and if pretension for a time deceive -and prove me one too ready to believe -far less my shame, than if by stubborn act -i brand as lie, some great colossal fact - -on my soul’s door, the latch-string hangs outside -within, the lighted candle. let me guide -some errant follies, on their wandering way -rather, than wisdom give no welcoming ray - - -god, what a glory, is this consciousness -of life on life, that comes to those who seek -nor would i, if i might, to others speak -the fulness of that knowledge. it can bless -only the eager souls, that willing, press -along the mountain passes, to the peak -not to the dull, the doubting, or the weak -will truth explain, or mystery confess - -not to the curious or impatient soul -that in the start, demands the end be shown -and at each step, stops waiting for a sign -but to the tireless toiler toward the goal -shall the great miracles of god be known -and life revealed, immortal and divine - - -upon the wreckage of thy yesterday -design the structure of to-morrow. lay -strong corner stones of purpose, and prepare -great blocks of wisdom, cut from past despair -shape mighty pillars of resolve, to set -deep in the tear-wet mortar of regret -work on with patience. though thy toil be slow -yet day by day the edifice shall grow -believe in god—in thine own self believe -all that thou hast desired thou shalt achieve - - -our souls should be vessels receiving -the waters of love for relieving -the sorrows of men - -for here lies the pleasure of living -in taking god’s bounties, and giving -the gifts back again - - -when the great universe was wrought -to might and majesty from naught -the all creative force was— - -that force is thine. though desolate -the way may seem, command thy fate -send forth thy thought— -create—_create - - -would you believe in presences unseen— -in life beyond this earthly life -be still: be stiller yet; and listen. set the screen -of silence at the portal of your will -relax, and let the world go by unheard -and seal your lips with some all-sacred word - -breathe ‘god,’ in any tongue—it means the same -love absolute: think, feel, absorb the thought -shut out all else; until a subtle flame -shall permeate your being, and shall glow - -not in a moment, or an hour, or day -the knowledge comes; the power is far too great -to win in any desultory way -no soul is worthy till it learns to wait -day after day be patient, then, oh, soul -month after month—till, lo! the goal! the goal - - -give, and thou shalt receive. give thoughts of cheer -of courage and success, to friend and stranger -and from a thousand sources, far and near -strength will be sent thee in thy hour of danger - -give words of comfort, of defence, and hope -to mortals crushed by sorrow and by error -and though thy feet through shadowy paths may grope -thou shalt not walk in loneliness or terror - -give of thy gold, though small thy portion be -gold rusts and shrivels in the hand that keeps it -it grows in one that opens wide and free -who sows his harvest is the one who reaps it - -give of thy love, nor wait to know the worth -of what thou lovest; and ask no returning -and wheresoe’er thy pathway leads on earth -there thou shalt find the lamp of love-light burning - - -the leaf that ripens only in the sun -is dull and shrivelled ere its race is run -the leaf that makes a carnival of death -must tremble first before the north wind’s breath - -the life that neither grief nor burden knows -is dwarfed in sympathy before its close -the life that grows majestic with the years -must taste the bitter tonic found in tears - - -fear is the twin of faith’s sworn foe, distrust -if one breaks in your heart the other must - -fear is the open enemy of good -it means the god in man misunderstood - -who walks with fear adown life’s road will meet -his boon companions, failure and defeat - -but look the bully boldly in the eyes -with mien undaunted, and he turns and flies - - -between the finite and the infinite -the missing link of love has left a void -supply the link, and earth with heaven will join -in one continued chain of endless life - -hell is wherever love is not, and heaven -is love’s location. no dogmatic creed -no austere faith based on ignoble fear -can lead thee into realms of joy and peace -unless the humblest creatures on the earth -are bettered by thy loving sympathy -think not to find a paradise beyond - -there is no sudden entrance into heaven -slow is the ascent by the path of love - - -i value more than i despise -my tendency to sin -because it helps me sympathise -with all my tempted kin - -he who has nothing in his soul -that links him to the sod -knows not that joy of self-control -which lifts him up to god - -and i am glad my heart can say -when others trip and fall -‘i understand it all.’ - - -there was a thought he hid from all men’s eyes -and by his prudent life and deeds of worth -he left a goodly record upon earth -as one both pure and wise - -but when he reached a dark unsightly door -beyond the grave, there stood his secret thought -it was the mansion he had built and brought -to dwell in, on that shore - - -an unkind tale was whispered in his ear -he paused to hear -his thoughts were food that helped a falsehood thrive -and keep alive - -years dawned and died. one day by venom’s tongue -his name was stung -he cried aloud, nor dreamed the lie was spawn -of thoughts long gone - -each mental wave we send out from the mind -or base, or kind -completes its circuit, then with added force -seeks its own source - - -know this, ye restless denizens of earth -know this, ye seekers after joy and mirth -three things there are, eternal in their worth - -love, that outreaches to the humblest things -work that is glad, in what it does and brings -and faith that soars upon unwearied wings - -divine the powers that on this trio wait -supreme their conquest, over time and fate -love, work, and faith—these three alone are great - - -‘the slothful man saith, there is a lion in the way; a lion is in the -street.’—proverbs xxvi. 13 - -there are no lions in the street -no lions in the way -go seek the goal, thou slothful soul -awake, awake, i say - -thou dost but dream of obstacles -in god’s great lexicon -that word illstarred, no page has marred -press on, i say, press on - -nothing can keep thee from thine own -but thine own slothful mind -to one who knocks, each door unlocks -and he who seeks, shall find - - -lean on thyself until thy strength is tried -then ask god’s help; it will not be denied - -use thine own sight to see the way to go -when darkness falls ask god the path to show - -think for thyself and reason out thy plan -god has his work and thou hast thine, oh, man - -exert thy will and use it for control -god gave thee jurisdiction of thy soul - -all thine immortal powers bring into play -think, act, strive, reason, then look up and pray - - -who climbs the mountain does not always climb -the winding road slants downward many a time -yet each descent is higher than the last -has thy path fallen? that will soon be past -beyond the curve the way leads up and on -think not thy goal forever lost or gone -keep moving forward; if thine aim is right -thou canst not miss the shining mountain height -who would attain to summits still and fair -must nerve himself through valleys of despair - - - -‘there is no death, there are no dead.’ -from zone to zone, from sphere to sphere -the souls of all who pass from here -by hosts of living thoughts are led -and dark or bright, those souls must tread -the paths they fashioned year on year -for hells are built of hate or fear -and heavens of love our lives have shed - -across unatlassed worlds of space -and through god’s mighty universe -with thoughts that bless or thoughts that curse -each journeys to his rightful place -oh, greater truth no man has said -‘there is no death, there are no dead.’ - -it lifts the mourner from the sod -and bids him cast away the reed -of some uncomforting poor creed -and walk with knowledge for a rod -it bids the doubter seek the broad -vast fields, where living facts will feed -all those whose patience proves their need -of these immortal truths of god - -it brings before the eyes of faith -those realms of radiance, tier on tier -where our beloved ‘dead’ appear -more beautiful because of ‘death.’ -it speaks to grief: ‘be comforted -there is no death, there are no dead.’ - - -hers was a lonely, shadowed lot -or so the unperceiving thought -who looked no deeper than her face -devoid of chiselled lines of grace— -no farther than her humble grate -and wondered how she bore her fate - -yet she was neither lone nor sad -so much of love her spirit had -she found an ever-flowing spring -of happiness in everything - -so near to her was nature’s heart -it seemed a very living part -of her own self; and bud and blade -and heat and cold, and sun and shade -and dawn and sunset, spring and fall -held raptures for her, one and all - -the year’s four changing seasons brought -to her own door what thousands sought -in wandering ways and did not find— -diversion and content of mind - -she loved the tasks that filled each day— -such menial duties; but her way -of looking at them lent a grace -to things the world deemed commonplace - -obscure and without place or name -she gloried in another’s fame -poor, plain and humble in her dress -she thrilled when beauty and success -and wealth passed by, on pleasure bent -they made earth seem so opulent -yet none of quicker sympathy -when need or sorrow came, than she -and so she lived, and so she died - -she woke as from a dream. how wide -and wonderful the avenue -that stretched to her astonished view -and up the green ascending lawn -a palace caught the rays of dawn - -then suddenly the silence stirred -with one clear keynote of a bird -a thousand answered, till ere long -the air was quivering bits of song -she rose and wandered forth in awe -amazed and moved by all she saw -for, like so many souls who go -away from earth, she did not know -the cord was severed - -down the street -with eager arms stretched forth to greet -came one she loved and mourned in youth -her mother followed; then the truth -broke on her, golden wave on wave -of knowledge infinite. the grave -the body and the earthly sphere -were gone! immortal life was here -they led her through the palace halls -from gleaming mirrors on the walls -she saw herself, with radiant mien -and robed in splendour like a queen -while glory round about her shone -‘all this,’ love murmured, ‘is your own.’ - -and when she gazed with wondering eye -and questioned whence and where and why -love answered thus: ‘all heaven is made -by thoughts on earth; your walls were laid -year after year, of purest gold -the beauty of your mind behold -in this fair palace; ay, and more -waits farther on, so vast your store -i was not worthy when i died -to take my place here at your side -i toiled through long and weary years -from lower planes to these high spheres -and through the love you sent from earth -i have attained a second birth -oft when my erring soul would tire -i felt the strength of your desire -i heard you breathe my name in prayer -and courage conquered weak despair -ah! earth needs heaven, but heaven indeed -of earth has just as great a need.’ - -across the terrace with a bound -there sped a lambkin and a hound -and fondled her caressing hand - -‘you loved them into paradise’ -was answered to her questioning eyes -‘you taught them love; love has no end -nor does love’s life on form depend -if there be mortal without love -he wakes to no new life above -if love in humbler things exist -it must through other realms persist -hark! hear the heavenly cherubim!’ - -then hushed and awed, with joy so vast -it knew no future and no past -she stood amidst the radiant throng -that came to swell love’s welcoming song— -this humble soul from earth’s far coast -the centre of the heavenly host - -on earth they see her grave and say -‘she lies there till the judgment day;’ -nor dream, so limited their thought -what miracles by love are wrought - - -o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done -the ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won -the port is near, the bells i hear, the people all exulting -while follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring -but, o heart! heart! heart -o the bleeding drops of red -where on the deck my captain lies -fallen, cold and dead - -o captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells -rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills -for you bouquets and ribboned wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding -for you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning -here captain! dear father -this arm beneath your head -it is some dream that on the deck -you've fallen cold and dead - -my captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still -my father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse or will -the ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done -from fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won -exult, o shores! and ring, o bells -but i, with mournful tread -walk the deck my captain lies -fallen, cold and dead - - - -for i dipt into the future, far as human eye could see -saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be -saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails -pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales -heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rained a ghastly dew -from the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue -far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm -with the standards of the peoples plunging through the thunderstorm -till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battleflags were furl'd -in the parliament of man, the federation of the world -there the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe -and the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law - - - -the breaking waves dashed high -on a stern and rock-bound coast -and the woods against a stormy sky -their giant branches tossed - -and the heavy night hung dark -the hills and waters o'er -when a band of exiles moored their bark -on the wild new england shore - -not as the conqueror comes -they, the true-hearted, came -not with the roll of the stirring drums -and the trumpet that sings of fame - -not as the flying come -in silence and in fear -they shook the depths of the desert's gloom -with their hymns of lofty cheer - -amidst the storms they sang -and the stars heard, and the sea -and the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang -to the anthem of the free - -the ocean eagle soared -from his nest by the white wave's foam -and the rocking pines of the forest roared -this was their welcome home - -there were men with hoary hair -amidst that pilgrim band -why had they come to wither there -away from their childhood's land - -there was woman's fearless eye -lit by her deep love's truth -there was manhood's brow serenely high -and the fiery heart of youth - -what sought they thus afar -bright jewels of the mine -the wealth of seas, the spoils of war -they sought a faith's pure shrine - -ay, call it holy ground -the soil where first they trod -they have left unstained what there they found -freedom to worship god - - - -for you know how i love thee -tell me, darling, will you be -the wife of bobby shaftoe - -for you've asked me twice before -let us be good friends, no more -no more, bobby shaftoe - -i will go away to sea -and you ne'er again shall be -a friend of bobby shaftoe - -for you've said so twice to-day -stop! he's gone! dear bobby, stay -dearest bobby shaftoe - -silver buckles on his knee -but he'll come back and marry me -pretty bobby shaftoe - -and how happy i shall be -he'll come back and marry me -dearest bobby shaftoe - -he cannot come back to thee -and you ne'er again will see -your dear bobby shaftoe - -and regret we ne'er shall see -our friend bobby, true and free -dearest bobby shaftoe - -and can ne'er come back to me -but i'll ever faithful be -true to bobby shaftoe - -i've come back to marry thee -for i know you're true to me -true to bobby shaftoe - -and now you've come back to me -and we will always happy be -dearest bobby shaftoe - -and we will united be -heart and hand in unity -mr. and mrs. shaftoe - - - -once there was a little boy -whose name was robert reese -and every friday afternoon -he had to speak a piece - -so many poems thus he learned -that soon he had a store -of recitations in his head -and still kept learning more - -now this it is what happened -he was called upon one week -and totally forgot the piece -he was about to speak - -his brain he vainly cudgeled -but no word was in his head -and so he spoke at random -and this is what he said - -my beautiful, my beautiful -who standest proudly by -it was the schooner hesperus -the breaking waves dashed high - -why is the forum crowded -what means this stir in rome -under a spreading chestnut tree -there is no place like home - -when freedom from her mountain height -cried, "twinkle, little star -shoot if you must this old gray head -king henry of navarre - -if you're waking, call me early -to be or not to be -curfew must not ring to-night -oh, woodman, spare that tree - -charge, chester, charge! on, stanley, on -and let who will be clever -the boy stood on the burning deck -but i go on for ever - - -the kid has gone to the colors -and we don't know what to say -the kid we have loved and cuddled -stepped out for the flag to-day -we thought him a child, a baby -with never a care at all -but his country called him man-size -and the kid has heard the call - -he paused to watch the recruiting -where, fired by the fife and drum -he bowed his head to old glory -and thought that it whispered: "come -the kid, not being a slacker -stood forth with patriot-joy -to add his name to the roster -and god, we're proud of the boy - -the kid has gone to the colors -it seems but a little while -since he drilled a schoolboy army -in a truly martial style -but now he's a man, a soldier -and we lend him a listening ear -for his heart is a heart all loyal -unscourged by the curse of fear - -his dad, when he told him, shuddered -his mother--god bless her!--cried -yet, blest with a mother-nature -she wept with a mother-pride -but he whose old shoulders straightened -was granddad--for memory ran -to years when he, too, a youngster -was changed by the flag to a man - - - -summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and conrad was gone away -gone to the county-town, sir, to sell our first load of hay -we lived in the log house yonder, poor as ever you've seen -roschen there was a baby, and i was only nineteen - -conrad, he took the oxen, but he left kentucky belle -how much we thought of kentuck, i couldn't begin to tell -came from the blue-grass country; my father gave her to me -when i rode north with conrad, away from the tennessee - -conrad lived in ohio--a german he is, you know -the house stood in broad cornfields, stretching on, row after row -the old folks made me welcome; they were kind as kind could be -but i kept longing, longing, for the hills of the tennessee - -oh, for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of a hill -clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that never is still -but the level land went stretching away to meet the sky -never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye - -from east to west, no river to shine out under the moon -nothing to make a shadow in the yellow afternoon -only the breathless sunshine, as i looked out, all forlorn -only the rustle, rustle, as i walked among the corn - -when i fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any more -but moved away from the cornlands, out to this river shore -the tuscarawas it's called, sir--off there's a hill, you see -and now i've grown to like it next best to the tennessee - -i was at work that morning. some one came riding like mad -over the bridge and up the road--farmer rouf's little lad -bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say - -he sweeps up all the horses--every horse that he can find -morgan, morgan the raider, and morgan's terrible men -with bowie knives and pistols, are galloping up the glen - -the lad rode down the valley, and i stood still at the door -the baby laughed and prattled, playing with spools on the floor -kentuck was out in the pasture; conrad, my man, was gone -nearer, nearer, morgan's men were galloping, galloping on - -sudden i picked up baby, and ran to the pasture bar -i led her down the gully that turns off there to the right -and tied her to the bushes; her head was just out of sight - -as i ran back to the log house, at once there came a sound -the ring of hoofs, galloping hoofs, trembling over the ground -coming into the turnpike out from the white woman glen -morgan, morgan the raider, and morgan's terrible men - -as near they drew and nearer, my heart beat fast in alarm -but still i stood in the doorway with baby on my arm -they came, they passed; with spur and whip in haste they sped along -morgan, morgan the raider, and his band, six hundred strong - -weary they looked and jaded, riding through night and through day -pushing on east to the river, many long miles away -to the border strip where virginia runs up into the west -and fording the upper ohio before they could stop to rest - -on like the wind they hurried, and morgan rode in advance -bright were his eyes like live coals, as he gave me a sideways glance -and i was just breathing freely, after my choking pain -when the last one of the troopers suddenly drew his rein - -frightened i was to death, sir; i scarce dared look in his face -as he asked for a drink of water, and glanced around the place -i gave him a cup, and he smiled--'twas only a boy, you see -faint and worn, with dim blue eyes; and he'd sailed on the tennessee - -only sixteen he was, sir--a fond mother's only son -off and away with morgan before his life had begun -the damp drops stood on his temples; drawn was the boyish mouth -and i thought me of the mother waiting down in the south - -oh! pluck was he to the backbone, and clear grit through and through -boasted and bragged like a trooper; but the big words wouldn't do -the boy was dying, sir, dying as plain as plain could be -worn out by his ride with morgan up from the tennessee - -but when i told the laddie that i too was from the south -water came in his dim eyes, and quivers around his mouth -then swayed like a willow sapling, and fainted dead away - -i had him into the log house, and worked and brought him to -i fed him, and i coaxed him, as i thought his mother'd do -and when the lad got better, and the noise in his head was gone -morgan's men--were miles; away, galloping, galloping on - -morgan--morgan is waiting for me; oh, what will morgan say -but i heard a sound of tramping and kept him back from the door -the ringing sound of horses' hoofs that i had heard before - -and on, on, came the soldiers--the michigan cavalry -and fast they rode, and black they looked, galloping rapidly -they had followed hard on morgan's track; they had followed day and night -but of morgan and morgan's raiders they had never caught a sight - -and rich ohio sat startled through all those summer days -for strange, wild men were galloping over her broad highways -now here, now there, now seen, now gone, now north, now east, now west -through river-valleys and cornland farms, sweeping away her best - -a bold ride and a long ride; but they were taken at last -they almost reached the river by galloping hard and fast -but the boys in blue were upon them ere ever they gained the ford -and morgan, morgan the raider, laid down his terrible sword - -well, i kept the boy till evening--kept him against his will -but he was too weak to follow, and sat there pale and still -when it was cool and dusky--you'll wonder to hear me tell -but i stole down to that gully, and brought up kentucky belle - -i kissed the star on her forehead--my pretty gentle lass -but i knew that she'd be happy back in the old blue-grass -a suit of clothes of conrad's, with all the money i had -and kentuck, pretty kentuck, i gave to the worn-out lad - -i guided him to the southward as well as i know how -the boy rode off with many thanks, and many a backward bow -and then the glow it faded, and my heart began to swell -as down the glen away she went, my lost kentucky belle - -when conrad came in the evening, the moon was shining high -baby and i were both crying--i couldn't tell him why -but a battered suit of rebel gray was hanging on the wall -and a thin old horse, with drooping head, stood in kentucky's stall - -well, he was kind, and never once said a hard word to me -he knew i couldn't help it--'twas all for the tennessee -but, after the war was over, just think what came to pass -a letter, sir; and the two were safe back in the old blue-grass - -the lad had got across the border, riding kentucky belle -and kentuck, she was thriving, and fat, and hearty, and well -he cared for her, and kept her, nor touched her with whip or spur -ah! we've had many horses since, but never a horse like her - - - -i remember it all so very well, the first of my married life -that i can't believe it was years ago--it doesn't seem true at all -why, i just can see the little church where they made us man and wife -and the merry glow of the first wood-fire that danced on our cottage - -to joe -and then, he worked in the planing mill, and drew the best of pay -and our cup was full when joey came,--our baby-boy, you know -so, all went well till that mill burned down and the owner moved away - -it wasn't long till joe found work, but 'twas never quite the same -never steady, with smaller pay; so to make the two ends meet -he fell to inventin' some machine--i don't recall the name -but he'd sit for hours in his little shop that opens toward the -street - -sit for hours, bent over his work, his tools all strewn about -i used to want to go in there to dust and sweep the floor -but 'twas just as if 'twas the parson there, writing his sermon out -even the baby--bless the child!--learned never to slam that door - -people called him a clever man, and folks from the city came -to look at his new invention and wish my joe success -and joe would say, "little woman,"--for that was my old pet-name -dress - -i didn't want 'em, the grand new things, but it made the big tears start -to see my joe with his restless eyes, his fingers worn away -to the skin and bone, for he wouldn't eat; and it almost broke my heart -when he tossed at night from side to side, till the dawning of the day - -of course, with it all he lost his place. i couldn't blame the man -the foreman there at the factory, for losing faith in joe -for his mind was never upon his work, but on some invention-plan -as with folded arms and his head bent down he wandered to and fro - -yet, he kept on workin' at various things, till our little money went -for wheels and screws and metal casts and things i had never seen -and i ceased to ask, "any pay, my dear?" with the answer, "not a cent -when his lock and his patent-saw had failed, he clung to that great -machine - -i remember one special thing that year. he had bought some costly tool -when we wanted our boy to learn to read--he was five years old, you -he went to his class with cold, bare feet, till at last he came from -school -and gravely said, "don't send me back; the children tease me so - -i hadn't the heart to cross the child, so, while i sat and sewed -he would rock his little sister in the cradle at my side -and when the struggle was hardest and i felt keen hunger's goad -driving me almost to despair--the little baby died - -her father came to the cradle-side, as she lay, so small and white -i swear by heaven, i will give it up!" yet, like a thief, that night -he stole to the shop and worked; his brow all wet with a clammy dew - -too proud to beg; too weak to work; and the weather cold and wild -i can only think of one dark night when the rain poured from the sky -and the wind went wailing round the house, like the ghost of my buried -child - -joe still toiled in the little shop. somebody clicked the gate -a neighbor-lad brought in the mail and laid it on the floor -but i sat half-stunned by my heavy grief crouched over the empty grate -till i heard--the crack of a pistol-shot; and i sprang to the workshop - -that door was locked and the bolt shut fast. i could not cry, nor speak -but i snatched my boy from the corner there, sick with a sudden dread -and carried him out through the garden plot, forgetting my arms were weak -forgetting the rainy torrent that beat on my bare young head - -the front door yielded to my touch. i staggered faintly in -fearing--_what_? he stood unharmed, though the wall showed a -jagged hole -in his trembling hand, his aim had failed, and the great and deadly sin -of his own life's blood was not yet laid on the poor man's tortured soul - -but the pistol held another charge, i knew; and like something mad -i shook my fist in my poor man's face, and shrieked at him, fierce and - -all of a sudden, he bowed his head, while from his nerveless hand -that hung so limp, i almost feared to see the pistol fall -a hopeless man. my plan has failed. that letter tells you all - -then for a moment the house was still as ever the house of death -only the drip of the rain outside, for the storm was almost o'er -but no;--there followed another sound, and i started, caught my breath -as a stalwart man with a heavy step came in at the open door - -i shall always think him an angel sent from heaven in a human guise -he must have guessed our awful state; he couldn't help but see -there was something wrong; but never a word, never a look in his eyes -told what he thought, as in kindly way he talked to joe and me - -he was come from a thriving city firm, and they'd sent him here to say -that _one_ of joe's inventions was a great, successful thing -and which do you think? his window-catch that he'd tinkered up one day -and we were to have a good per cent on the sum that each would bring - -and then the pleasant stranger went, and we wakened as from a dream -my man bent down his head and said, "little woman, you've saved my life -the worn look gone from his dear gray eyes, and in its place, a gleam -from the sun that has shone so brightly since, on joe and his happy - - - -there sat two glasses filled to the brim -on a rich man's table, rim to rim -one was ruddy and red as blood -and one was clear as the crystal flood - -said the glass of wine to his paler brother -i can tell of banquet and revel and mirth -where i was king, for i ruled in might -for the proudest and grandest souls of earth -fell under my touch, as though struck with blight -from the heads of kings i have torn the crown -from the heights of fame i have hurled men down -i have blasted many an honored name -i have taken virtue and given shame -i have tempted youth with a sip, a taste -that has made his future a barren waste -or than any army beneath the sky -i have made the arm of the driver fail -and sent the train from the iron rail -i have made good ships go down at sea -and the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me -fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall -and my might and power are over all -ho, ho, pale brother," said the wine - -said the water glass: "i cannot boast -of a king dethroned, or a murdered host -but i can tell of hearts that were sad -by my crystal drops made bright and glad -of thirsts i have quenched and brows i have laved -of hands i have cooled, and souls i have saved -i have leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain -slipped from the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain -i have burst my cloud-fetters, and dropped from the sky -and everywhere gladdened the prospect and eye -i have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain -i have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain -i can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill -that ground out the flour, and turned at my will -i can tell of manhood debased by you -that i have uplifted and crowned anew -i cheer, i help, i strengthen and aid -i gladden the heart of man and maid -i set the wine-chained captive free -and all are better for knowing me - -these are the tales they told each other -the glass of wine, and its paler brother -as they sat together, filled to the brim -on a rich man's table, rim to rim - - - -london "punch - -broad for the self-complacent british sneer -his length of shambling limb, his furrowed face - -his gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair -his garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease -his lack of all we prize as debonair -of power or will to shine, of art to please - -judging each step, as though the way were plain -reckless, so it could point its paragraph -of chief's perplexity, or people's pain - -beside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet -the stars and stripes he lived to rear anew -between the mourners at his head and feet -say, scurril jester, is there room for you - -yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer -to lame my pencil and confute my pen -to make me own this hind, of princes peer -this rail-splitter, a true-born king of men - -my shallow judgment i had learned to rue -noting how to occasion's height he rose -how his quaint wit made home-truth seem more true -how, iron-like, his temper grew by blows - -how humble, yet how hopeful he could be -how in good fortune and in ill the same -nor bitter in success, nor boastful he -thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame - -he went about his work--such work as few -ever had laid on head, and heart, and hand -as one who knows where there's a task to do -man's honest will must heaven's good grace command - -who trusts the strength will with the burden grow -that god makes instruments to work his will -if but that will we can arrive to know -nor tamper with the weights of good and ill - -so he went forth to battle, on the side -that he felt clear was liberty's and right's -as in his peasant boyhood he had plied -his warfare with rude nature's thwarting mights - -the uncleared forest, the unbroken soil -the iron bark that turns the lumberer's axe -the rapid, that o'erbears the boatman's toil -the prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks - -the ambushed indian and the prowling bear -such were the needs that helped his youth to train -rough culture--but such trees large fruit may bear -if but their stocks be of right girth and grain - -so he grew up, a destined work to do -and lived to do it: four long, suffering years -ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through -and then he heard the hisses change to cheers - -the taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise -and took both with the same unwavering mood -till, as he came on light, from darkling days -and seemed to touch the goal from where he stood - -a felon hand, between the goal and him -beached from behind his back, a trigger prest -and those perplexed and patient eyes were dim -those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest - -the words of mercy were upon his lips -forgiveness in his heart and on his pen -when this vile murderer brought swift eclipse -to thoughts of peace on earth, goodwill to men - -the old world and the new, from sea to sea -utter one voice of sympathy and shame -sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high -sad life, cut short as its triumph came - - -somewhat back from the village street -stands the old-fashioned country-seat -across its antique portico -tall poplar trees their shadows throw -and, from its station in the hall -an ancient timepiece says to all -never--forever - -half-way up the stairs it stands -and points and beckons with its hands -from its case of massive oak -like a monk who, under his cloak -crosses himself, and sighs, alas -with sorrowful voice to all who pass -never--forever - -by day its voice is low and light -but in the silent dead of night -distinct as a passing footstep's fall -it echoes along the vacant hall -along the ceiling, along the floor -and seems to say at each chamber door -never--forever - -through days of sorrow and of mirth -through days of death and days of birth -through every swift vicissitude -of changeful time, unchanged it has stood -and as if, like god, it all things saw -it calmly repeats those words of awe -never--forever - -in that mansion used to be -free-hearted hospitality -his great fires up the chimney roared -the stranger feasted at his board -but, like the skeleton at the feast -that warning timepiece never ceased -never--forever - -there groups of merry children played -there youths and maidens dreaming strayed -oh, precious hours! oh, golden prime -and affluence of love and time -even as a miser counts his gold -those hours the ancient timepiece told -never--forever - -from that chamber, clothed in white -the bride came forth on her wedding night -there, in that silent room below -the dead lay, in his shroud of snow -and, in the hush that followed the prayer -was heard the old clock on the stair -never--forever - -all are scattered, now, and fled -some are married, some are dead -and when i ask, with throbs of pain -as in the days long since gone by -the ancient timepiece makes reply -never-forever - -never here, forever there -where all parting, pain, and care -and death, and time, shall disappear -forever there, but never here -the horologe of eternity -sayeth this incessantly -never--forever - - - -we had forgotten you, or very nearly -you did not seem to touch us very nearly -of course we thought about you now and then -especially in any time of trouble -we knew that you were good in time of trouble -but we were very ordinary men - -and there were always other things to think of -there's lots of things a man has got to think of -his work, his home, his pleasure, and his wife -and so we only thought of you on sunday -sometimes, perhaps, not even on a sunday -because there's always lots to fill one's life - -and, all the while, in street or lane or byway -in country lane, in city street, or byway -you walked among us, and we did not see -your feet were bleeding as you walked our pavements -how did we miss your footprints on our pavements -can there be other folk as blind as we - -now we remember; over here in flanders -this hideous warfare seems to make things clear -we never thought about you much in england -but now that we are far away from england -we have no doubts, we know that you are here - -you helped us pass the jest along the trenches -where, in cold blood, we waited in the trenches -you touched its ribaldry and made it fine -you stood beside us in our pain and weakness -we're glad to think you understand our weakness -somehow it seems to help us not to whine - -we think about you kneeling in the garden -ah, god, the agony of that dread garden -we know you prayed for us upon the cross -if anything could make us glad to bear it -pain--death--the uttermost of human loss - -though we forgot you--you will not forget us -we feel so sure that you will not forget us -but stay with us until this dream is past -and so we ask for courage, strength, and pardon -especially, i think, we ask for pardon -and that you'll stand beside us to the last - - - -that lightly draws its breath -and feels its life in every limb -what should it know of death - -i met a little cottage girl -she was eight years old, she said -her hair was thick with many a curl -that clustered round her head - -she had a rustic, woodland air -and she was wildly clad -her eyes were fair, and very fair - -how many may you be -and wondering looked at me - -she answered, "seven are we -and two of us at conway dwell -and two are gone to sea - -my sister and my brother -dwell near them with my mother - -and two are gone to sea -yet ye are seven!--i pray you tell -sweet maid, how this may be - -then did the little maid reply -two of us in the church-yard lie -beneath the church-yard tree - -your limbs they are alive -if two are in the church-yard laid -then ye are only five - -the little maid replied -and they are side by side - -my kerchief there i hem -and there upon the ground i sit -and sing a song to them - -when it is light and fair -i take my little porringer -and eat my supper there - -in bed she moaning lay -till god released her of her pain -and then she went away - -and, when the grass was dry -together round her grave we played - -and i could run and slide -my brother john was forced to go -and he lies by her side - -quick was the little maid's reply - -their spirits are in heaven -the little maid would have her will -and said, "nay, we are seven - - - -what to a novice she could say -of courtship, love and matrimony -quoth echo plainly,--'matter-o'-money - -a dashing damsel, gay and pert -a pattern of inconstancy -or selfish, mercenary flirt -quoth echo, sharply,--'nary flirt - -that long has lured the dear deceiver -she promise to amend her life -and sin no more; can i believe her -quoth echo, very promptly,--'leave her - -on me should venture to bestow it -pray should i act the wiser part -to take the treasure or forego it -quoth echo, with decision,--'go it - -to bind her fate in hymen's fetter -she vow she means to die a maid -in answer to my loving letter -quoth echo, rather coolly,-'let her - -i find my heart entwined about -with cupid's dear, delicious chain -so closely that i can't get out -quoth echo, laughingly,--'get out - -as pure and fair as heaven can make her -will share my labor and my rest -till envious death shall overtake her -quoth echo (sotto voce),--'take her - - - -it's noon when thirty-five is due -an' she comes on time like a flash of light -an' you hear her whistle "too-tee-too -long 'fore the pilot swings in sight -bill madden's drivin' her in to-day -an' he's calling his sweetheart far away -gertrude hurd lives down by the mill -you might see her blushin'; she knows it's bill - -six-five, a.m. there's a local comes -makes up at bristol, runnin' east -an' the way her whistle sings and hums -is a livin' caution to man and beast -every one knows who jack white calls -little lou woodbury, down by the falls -summer or winter, always the same -she hears her lover callin' her name - -but at one fifty-one, old sixty-four -boston express, runs east, clear through -drowns her rattle and rumble and roar -with the softest whistle that ever blew -an' away on the furthest edge of town -sweet sue winthrop's eyes of brown -shine like the starlight, bright and clear -when she hears the whistle of abel gear - -along at midnight a freight comes in -leaves berlin sometime--i don't know when -but it rumbles along with a fearful din -till it reaches the y-switch there and then -the clearest notes of the softest bell -that out of a brazen goblet fell -wake nellie minton out of her dreams -to her like a wedding-bell it seems - -tom willson rides on the right-hand side -givin' her steam at every stride -an' he touches the whistle, low an' clear -for lulu gray on the hill, to hear - -so it goes all day an' all night -till the old folks have voted the thing a bore -old maids and bachelors say it ain't right -for folks to do courtin' with such a roar -but the engineers their kisses will blow -from a whistle valve to the girls they know -an' stokers the name of their sweethearts tell -with the "too-too-too" and the swinging bell - - - -she stood at the bar of justice -a creature wan and wild -in form too small for a woman -in features too old for a child -for a look so worn and pathetic -was stamped on her pale young face -it seemed long years of suffering -must have left that silent trace - -with kindly look yet keen -and your age?"--"i am turned fifteen -he slowly and gravely read -with stealing three loaves of bread - -and i hope that you can show -the charge to be false. now, tell me -are you guilty of this, or no -a passionate burst of weeping -was at first her sole reply -but she dried her eyes in a moment -and looked in the judge's eye - -my father and mother are dead -and my little brothers and sisters -were hungry and asked me for bread -at first i earned it for them -by working hard all day -but somehow, times were bad, sir -and the work all fell away - -the weather was bitter cold -the young ones cried and shivered -so what was i to do, sir -i am guilty, but do not condemn -i _took_--oh, was it _stealing -the bread to give to them - -every man in the court-room -gray-beard and thoughtless youth -knew, as he looked upon her -that the prisoner spake the truth -out from their pockets came kerchiefs -out from their eyes sprung tears -and out from their old faded wallets -treasures hoarded for years - -the judge's face was a study -the strangest you ever saw -as he cleared his throat and murmured -for one so learned in such matters -so wise in dealing with men -he seemed, on a simple question -sorely puzzled, just then - -but no one blamed him or wondered -when at last these words he heard -is, for the present, deferred -and no one blamed him or wondered -when he went to her and smiled -and tenderly led from the court-room -himself, the "guilty" child - - -where did you come from, baby dear - -where did you get your eyes so blue - -what makes the light in them sparkle and spin - -where did you get that little tear - -what makes your forehead so smooth and high - -what makes your cheek like a warm white rose - -whence that three-cornered smile of bliss - -where did you get that pearly ear - -where did you get those arms and hands - -feet, whence did you come, you darling things - -how did they all just come to be you - -but how did you come to us, you dear - - - -the sea! the sea! the open sea -the blue, the fresh, the ever free -without a mark, without a bound -it runneth the earth's wide regions round -it plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies -or like a cradled creature lies - -i'm on the sea! i'm on the sea -i am where i would ever be -with the blue above and the blue below -and silence wheresoe'er i go -if a storm should come and awake the deep -what matter? _i_ shall ride and sleep - -i love, oh, how i love to ride -on the fierce, foaming, bursting tide -when every mad wave drowns the moon -or whistles aloud his tempest tune -and tells how goeth the world below -and why the southwest blasts do blow - -i never was on the dull, tame shore -but i loved the great sea more and more -and back i flew to her billowy breast -like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest -and a mother she _was_, and _is_, to me -for i was born on the open sea - -i've lived, since then, in calm and strife -full fifty summers a sailor's life -with wealth to spend and a power to range -but never have sought nor sighed for change -and death, whenever he comes to me -shall come on the wild, unbounded sea - - - -and here he paused a while -to fringe his words the merest mite -with something of a smile -a smile that found its image -in a face of beauteous mold -whose liquid eyes were peeping -from a broidery of gold - -if--" then he stopped again -as if his heart had bubbled o'er -and overflowed his brain -his lips were twitching nervously -o'er what they had to tell -and timed the quavers with the eyes -that gently rose and fell - -and held them in his own -that on her cheeks had blown -the throbbing of her heart -that told how love had entered in -and claimed its every part - -with just the faintest sigh -but what's the reason why -forbore its sweets to tell -has any pigs to sell - - -slowly england's sun was setting o'er the hilltops far away -filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day -and the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair -he with footsteps slow and weary, she with sunny floating hair -he with bowed head, sad and thoughtful, she with lips all cold and white -struggling to keep back the murmur, "curfew must not ring to-night - -with its turrets tall and gloomy, with its walls dark, damp and cold -at the ringing of the curfew, and no earthly help is nigh -cromwell will not come till sunset," and her lips grew strangely white -as she breathed the husky whisper: "curfew must not ring to-night - -like the piercing of an arrow, like a deadly poisoned dart -every evening, just at sunset, it has told the twilight hour -i have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right -now i'm old i will not falter,--curfew, it must ring to-night - -wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful brow -as within her secret bosom bessie made a solemn vow -she had listened while the judges read without a tear or sigh -and her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large and bright -in an undertone she murmured, "curfew must not ring to-night - -with quick step she bounded forward, sprung within the old church door -left the old man treading slowly paths so oft he'd trod before -not one moment paused the maiden, but with eye and cheek aglow -mounted up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and fro -as she climbed the dusty ladder on which fell no ray of light -up and up,--her white lips saying: "curfew must not ring to-night - -she has reached the topmost ladder; o'er her hangs the great, dark bell -awful is the gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell -lo, the ponderous tongue is swinging--'tis the hour of curfew now -and the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath and paled her brow -shall she let it ring? no, never! flash her eyes with sudden light -as she springs and grasps it firmly--"curfew shall not ring to-night - -out she swung--far out; the city seemed a speck of light below -there 'twixt heaven and earth suspended as the bell swung to and fro -and the sexton at the bell-rope, old and deaf, heard not the bell -sadly thought, "that twilight curfew rang young basil's funeral knell -still the maiden clung more firmly, and with trembling lips so white -said, to hush her heart's wild throbbing: "curfew shall not ring to-night - -it was o'er; the bell ceased swaying, and the maiden stepped once more -firmly on the dark old ladder where, for hundred years before -human foot had not been planted. the brave deed that she had done -should be told long ages after; as the rays of setting sun -crimson all the sky with beauty, aged sires with heads of white -tell the eager, listening children, "curfew did not ring that night - -o'er the distant hills came cromwell; bessie sees him, and her brow -lately white with fear and anguish, has no anxious traces now -at his feet she tells her story, shows her hands all bruised and torn -and her face so sweet and pleading, yet with sorrow pale and worn -touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light - -wide they flung the massive portal; led the prisoner forth to die -all his bright young life before him. 'neath the darkening english sky -bessie comes with flying footsteps, eyes aglow with love-light sweet -kneeling on the turf beside him, lays his pardon at his feet -in his brave, strong arms he clasped her, kissed the face upturned -and white -whispered, "darling, you have saved me--curfew will not ring to-night - - - -have you heard how a girl saved the lightning express -of kate shelly, whose father was killed on the road -were he living to-day, he'd be proud to possess -such a daughter as kate. ah! 'twas grit that she showed -on that terrible evening when donahue's train -jumped the bridge and went down, in the darkness and rain - -she was only eighteen, but a woman in size -with a figure as graceful and lithe as a doe -with peach-blossom cheeks, and with violet eyes -and teeth and complexion like new-fallen snow -with a nature unspoiled and unblemished by art -with a generous soul, and a warm, noble heart - -men linger at home by their bright-blazing fires -the wind wildly howls with a horrible sound -and shrieks through the vibrating telegraph wires -the fierce lightning flashes along the dark sky -the rain falls in torrents; the river rolls by - -the scream of a whistle; the rush of a train -the sound of a bell! a mysterious light -that flashes and flares through the fast falling rain -a rumble! a roar! shrieks of human affright -the falling of timbers! the space of a breath -a splash in the river; then darkness and death - -kate shelly recoils at the terrible crash -the sounds of destruction she happens to hear -she springs to the window--she throws up the sash -and listens and looks with a feeling of fear -the tall tree-tops groan, and she hears the faint cry -of a drowning man down in the river near by - -her heart feebly flutters, her features grow wan -and then through her soul in a moment there flies -a forethought that gives her the strength of a man -she turns to her trembling old mother and cries -then out through the door disappears in the shower - -she flies down the track through the pitiless rain -she reaches the river--the water below -whirls and seethes through the timbers. she shudders again -then closely about her she gathers her gown -and on the wet ties with a shiver sinks down - -then carefully over the timbers she creeps -on her hands and knees, almost holding her breath -the loud thunder peals and the wind wildly sweeps -and struggles to hurry her downward to death -but the thought of the train to destruction so near -removes from her soul every feeling of fear - -with the blood dripping down from each torn, bleeding limb -slowly over the timbers her dark way she feels -her fingers grow numb and her head seems to swim -her strength is fast failing--she staggers! she reels -she falls--ah! the danger is over at last -her feet touch the earth, and the long bridge is passed - -in an instant new life seems to come to her form -she springs to her feet and forgets her despair -on, on to moingona! she faces the storm -she reaches the station--the keeper is there -there's death on the bridge at the river to-night - -out flashes the signal-light, rosy and red -then sounds the loud roar of the swift-coming train -the hissing of steam, and there, brightly ahead -the gleam of a headlight illumines the rain -she heeds the red signal--she slackens, she's still - -ah! noble kate shelly, your mission is done -your deed that dark night will not fade from our gaze -an endless renown you have worthily won -let the nation be just, and accord you its praise -let your name, let your fame, and your courage declare -what a _woman_ can do, and a _woman_ can dare - - - -an old wife sat by her bright fireside -swaying thoughtfully to and fro -in an easy chair, whose creaky craw -told a tale of long ago -while down by her side, on the kitchen floor -stood a basket of worsted balls--a score - -the good man dozed o'er the latest news -till the light in his pipe went out -and, unheeded, the kitten with cunning paws -rolled and tangled the balls about -yet still sat the wife in the ancient chair -swaying to and fro in the fire-light glare - -but anon, a misty teardrop came -in her eyes of faded blue -then trickled down in a furrow deep -like a single drop of dew -so deep was the channel--so silent the stream -that the good man saw naught but the dimmed eye-beam - -yet marveled he much that the cheerful light -of her eye had heavy grown -and marveled he more at the tangled balls -so he said in a gentle tone -conceal not from me thy sorrows now - -then she spoke of the time when the basket there -was filled to the very brim -and now, there remained of the goodly pile -but a single pair--for him -there's but one pair of stockings to mend to-night - -whose wrappings were wont to lay -in the basket, awaiting the needle's time -now wandering so far away -how the sprightly steps to a mother dear -unheeded fell on the careless ear - -by the hearth there's a vacant seat -and i miss the shadows from off the wall -and the patter of many feet -at the one pair of stockings to mend to-night - -and over the mountains bold -was a land whose rivers and darkening caves -were gemmed with the rarest gold -then my first-born turned from the oaken door -and i knew the shadows were only four - -and diminished the basket's store -but his feet grew cold--so weary and cold -they'll never be warm any more -and this nook, in its emptiness, seemeth to me -to give forth no voice but the moan of the sea - -and made them a home in its light -and fairy fingers have taken their share -to mend by the fireside bright -some other baskets their garments will fill -but mine, ah, mine is emptier still - -was taken by angels away -and clad in a garment that waxeth not old -in a land of continual day -oh! wonder no more at the dimmed eye-light -when i mend the one pair of stockings to-night - - -in the room below the young man sat -with an anxious face and a white cravat -a throbbing heart and a silken hat -and various other things like that -which he had accumulated -and the maid of his heart was up above -surrounded by hat and gown and glove -and a thousand things which women love -but no man knoweth the names thereof -and the young man sat and--waited - -you will scarce believe the things i tell -but the truth thereof i know full well -though how may not be stated -but i swear to you that the maiden took -a sort of half-breed, thin stove-hook -and heated it well in the gaslight there -and thrust it into her head, or hair -then she took something off the bed -and hooked it onto her hair, or head -and piled it high, and piled it higher -and drove it home with staples of wire -and the young man anxiously--waited - -then she took a thing she called a "puff -and some very peculiar whitish stuff -and using about a half a peck -she spread it over her face and neck -and she looked as fair as a lilied bower -or a pound of lard or a sack of flour -and the young man wearily--waited - -then she took a garment of awful shape -and it wasn't a waist, nor yet a cape -but it looked like a piece of ancient mail -or an instrument from a russian jail -and then with a fearful groan and gasp -she squeezed herself in its deathly clasp -so fair and yet so fated -and then with a move like i don't know what -she tied it on with a double knot -and the young man wofully--waited - -then she put on a dozen different things -a mixture of buttons and hooks and strings -till she strongly resembled a notion store -then, taking some seventeen pins or more -she thrust them into her ruby lips -then stuck them around from waist to hips -and never once hesitated -and the maiden didn't know, perhaps -that the man below had had seven naps -and that now he sleepily--waited - -and then she tried to put on her hat -ah me, a trying ordeal was that -she tipped it high and she tried it low -but every way that the thing would go -only made her more agitated -it wouldn't go straight and it caught her hair -and she wished she could hire a man to swear -but alas, the only man lingering there -was the one who wildly--waited - -and then before she could take her leave -she had to puff up her monstrous sleeve -then a little dab here and a wee pat there -and a touch or two to her hindmost hair -then around the room with the utmost care -she thoughtfully circulated -then she seized her gloves and a chamoiskin -some breath perfume and a long stickpin -a bonbon box and a cloak and some -eau-de-cologne and chewing-gum -her opera glass and sealskin muff -a fan and a heap of other stuff -then she hurried down, but ere she spoke -something about the maiden broke -so she scurried back to the winding stair -and the young man looked in wild despair -and then he--evaporated - - - -out of the night that covers me -black as the pit from pole to pole -i thank whatever gods may be -for my unconquerable soul - -in the fell clutch of circumstance -i have not winced nor cried aloud -under the bludgeonings of chance -my head is bloody, but unbowed - -beyond this place of wrath and tears -looms but the horror of the shade -and yet the menace of the years -finds, and shall find, me unafraid - -it matters not how strait the gate -how charged with punishments the scroll -i am the master of my fate -i am the captain of my soul - - - -two brown heads with tossing curls -red lips shutting over pearls -bare feet, white and wet with dew -two eyes black, and two eyes blue -little girl and boy were they -katie lee and willie grey - -they were standing where a brook -bending like a shepherd's crook -flashed its silver, and thick ranks -of willow fringed its mossy banks -half in thought, and half in play -katie lee and willie grey - -they had cheeks like cherries red -he was taller--'most a head -she, with arms like wreaths of snow -swung a basket to and fro -as she loitered, half in play -chattering to willie grey - -and there came a dash of red -through the brownness of his cheek -and i'll carry, so i will -katie's basket up the hill - -katie answered with a laugh -and then, tossing back her curls -do you think that katie guessed -half the wisdom she expressed - -men are only boys grown tall -hearts don't change much, after all -and when, long years from that day -katie lee and willie grey -stood again beside the brook -bending like a shepherd's crook - -is it strange that willie said -while again a dash of red -crossed the brownness of his cheek -life is but a slippery steep -hung with shadows cold and deep - -walk beside me without fear -may i carry, if i will -all your burdens up the hill -and she answered, with a laugh - -close beside the little brook -bending like a shepherd's crook -washing with its silver hands -late and early at the sands -is a cottage, where to-day -katie lives with willie grey - -in a porch she sits, and lo -swings a basket to and fro -vastly different from the one -that she swung in years agone -and has--_rockers at the side - - -abou ben adhem--may his tribe increase -awoke one night from a deep dream of peace -and saw, within the moonlight in his room -making it rich, and like a lily in bloom -an angel, writing in a book of gold -exceeding peace had made ben adhem bold -and to the presence in the room he said -and, with a look made all of sweet accord -answered, "the names of those who love the lord -replied the angel.--abou spoke more low -but cheerily still; and said, "i pray thee, then -write me as one that loves his fellow-men - -the angel wrote, and vanished. the next night -it came again, with a great wakening light -and showed the names whom love of god had blessed -and, lo! ben adhem's name led all the rest - - - -still sits the school-house by the road -a ragged beggar sunning -around it still the sumachs grow -and blackberry vines are running - -within, the master's desk is seen -deep scarred by raps official -the warping floor, the battered seats -the jack-knife's carved initial - -the charcoal frescoes on its wall -its door's worn sill, betraying -the feet that, creeping slow to school -went storming out to playing - -long years ago a winter sun -shone over it at setting -lit up its western window-panes -and low eaves' icy fretting - -it touched the tangled golden curls -and brown eyes full of grieving -of one who still her steps delayed -when all the school were leaving - -for near her stood the little boy -her childish favor singled -his cap pulled low upon a face -where pride and shame were mingled - -pushing with restless feet the snow -to right and left, he lingered -as restlessly her tiny hands -the blue-checked apron fingered - -he saw her lift her eyes; he felt -the soft hand's light caressing -and heard the tremble of her voice -as if a fault confessing - -i hate to go above you -because,"--the brown eyes lower fell - -still memory to a gray-haired man -that sweet child-face is showing -dear girl: the grasses on her grave -have forty years been growing - -he lives to learn, in life's hard school -how few who pass above him -lament their triumph and his loss -like her,--because they love him - - - -they were never made to handle a hoe -and at once to a college ought to go -there's fred, he's little better than a fool -but john and henry must go to school - -as he set his mug of cider down -than both his brothers do in three -book larnin' will never plant one's corn -nor hoe potatoes, sure's you're born -nor mend a rod of broken fence -for my part, give me common sense - -but his wife was bound the roost to rule -and john and henry were sent to school -while fred, of course, was left behind -because his mother said he had no mind - -five years at school the students spent -then into business each one went -john learned to play the flute and fiddle -and parted his hair, of course, in the middle -while his brother looked rather higher than he - -meanwhile, at home, their brother fred -had taken a notion into his head -but he quietly trimmed his apple trees -and weeded onions and planted peas -while somehow or other, by hook or crook -he managed to read full many a book -until at last his father said -he was getting "book larnin'" into his head - -the war broke out, and captain fred -a hundred men to battle led -and when the rebel flag came down -went marching home as general brown -but he went to work on the farm again -and planted corn and sowed his grain -he shingled the barn and mended the fence -till people declared he had common sense - -now common sense was very rare -and the state house needed a portion there -so the "family dunce" moved into town -the people called him governor brown -and the brothers who went to the city school -came home to live with "mother's fool - - -you wi'yam, cum 'ere, suh, dis instunce -wu' dat you got under dat box -i do' want no foolin'--you hear me -wut you say? ain't nu'h'n but _rocks -i'll des take a look at dem rocks. hi yi! der you think dat i's bline - -growed -it come fum de jimmerson cawn fiel', dah on ter side er de road -you stole it, you rascal--you stole it! i watched you fum down in de lot -en time i gets th'ough wid you, nigger, you won't eb'n be a grease spot - -i'll fix you. mirandy! mir_an_dy! go cut me a hick'ry--make 'ase -en cut me de toughes' en keenes' you c'n fine anywhah on de place -i'll larn you, mr. wi'yam joe vetters, ter steal en ter lie, you young -sinner -disgracin' yo' ole christian mammy, en makin' her leave cookin' dinner - -now ain't you ashamed er yo'se'lf sur? i is, i's 'shamed you's my son -en de holy accorjan angel he's 'shamed er wut you has done -en he's tuk it down up yander in coal-black, blood-red letters - -en wut you s'posen brer bascom, yo' teacher at sunday school -boy, whah's de raisin' i give you? is you boun' fuh ter be a black -villiun -i's s'prised dat a chile er yo mammy 'ud steal any man's water-million - -en i's now gwinter cut it right open, en you shain't have nary bite -fuh a boy who'll steal water-millions--en dat in de day's broad light -ain't--_lawdy!_ it's _green!_ mirandy -mi-ran-dy! come on wi' dat switch -well, stealin' a g-r-e-e-n water-million! who ever yeered tell er des - -cain't tell w'en dey's ripe? w'y you thump 'um, en w'en dey go pank dey -is green -but w'en dey go _punk_, now you mine me, dey's ripe--en dat's des wut -i mean -en nex' time you hook water-millions--_you_ heered me, you ign'ant, you -ef you do' want a lickin' all over, be sho dat dey allers go "punk - - - -god give us men; a time like this demands -strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands -men whom the lust of office cannot kill -men whom the spoils of office cannot buy -men who possess opinions and a will -men who have honor; men who will not lie -men who can stand before a demagogue -and brave his treacherous flatteries without winking -tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog -in public duty and in private thinking -for while the rabble, with its thumb-worn creeds -its large professions, and its little deeds -mingle in selfish strife--lo! freedom weeps -wrong rules the land, and waiting justice sleeps - - - -my good man is a clever man, which no one will gainsay -he lies awake to plot and plan 'gainst lions in the way -while i, without a thought of ill, sleep sound enough for three -for i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me - -a holiday we never fix but he is sure 'twill rain -and when the sky is clear at six he knows it won't remain -he is always prophesying ill to which i won't agree -for i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me - -the wheat will never show a top--but soon how green the field -we will not harvest half a crop--yet have a famous yield -it will not sell, it never will! but i will wait and see -for i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me - -we have a good share of worldly gear, and fortune seems secure -yet my good man is full of fear--misfortune's coming sure -he points me out the almshouse hill, but cannot make me see -for i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me - -he has a sort of second sights and when the fit is strong -he sees beyond the good and right the evil and the wrong -heaven's cop of joy he'll surely spill unless i with him be -for i never trouble trouble till trouble troubles me - - - -order, said the law court -knowledge, said the school -truth, said the wise man -pleasure, said the fool -love, said the maiden -beauty, said the page -freedom, said the dreamer -home, said the sage -fame, said the soldier -equity, the seer -spake my heart full sadly -then within my bosom -softly this i heard -kindness is the word - - - -there's a funny tale 'of a stingy man -who was none too good but might have been worse -who went to his church, on a sunday night -and carried along his well-filled purse - -when the sexton came with the begging plate -the church was but dim with the candle's light -the stingy man fumbled all thro' his purse -and chose a coin by touch and not by sight - -it's an odd thing now that guineas should be -so like unto pennies in shape and size - -the penny fell down with a clatter and ring -and back in his seat leaned the stingy man - -ha! ha! how the sexton smiled, to be sure -to see the gold guinea fall in the plate -ha! ha! how the stingy man's heart was wrung -perceiving his blunder--but just too late - -that guinea of gold is set down to me -they lend to him who give to the poor -it will not so bad an investment be - -he knew it was only by accident -that out o' thy fingers the guinea fell - -but in that account he'll set down to thee -na mair o' that golden guinea, my mon -than the one bare penny ye mean to gie - -there's comfort, too, in the little tale -a serious side as well as a joke -a comfort for all the generous poor -in the comical words the sexton spoke - -a comfort to think that the good lord knows -how generous we really desire to be -and will give us credit in his account -for all the pennies we long "to gie - - -i haf von funny leedle poy -vot gomes shust to my knee -der queerest schap, der createst rogue -as efer you dit see -he runs, und schumps, und schmashes dings -in all barts off der house -but vot off dot? he vas mine son -mine leedle yawcob strauss - -he gets der measels und der mumbs -und eferyding dot's oudt -he sbills mine glass off lager bier -poots schnuff indo mine kraut -he fills mine pipe mit limburg cheese -dot vas der roughest chouse -i'd dake dot vrom no oder poy -but leedle yawcob strauss - -he dakes der milkban for a dhrum -und cuts mine cane in dwo -to make der schticks to beat it mit -mine cracious, dot vas drue -i dinks mine hed vas schplit abart -he kicks oup sooch a touse -but nefer mind der poys vas few -like dot young yawcob strauss - -he asks me questions sooch as dese -who baints mine nose so red -who vos it cuts dot schmoodth blace oudt -vrom der hair ubon mine hed -und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp -vene'er der glim i douse -how gan i all dese dings eggsblain -to dot schmall yawcob strauss - -i somedimes dink i schall go vild -mit sooch a grazy poy -und vish vonce more i gould haf rest -und beaceful dimes enshoy -but ven he vas asleep in ped -so quiet as a mouse -i prays der lord, "dake any dings -but leaf dot yawcob strauss - - - -we shall do so much in the years to come -but what have we done to-day -we shall give out gold in princely sum -but what did we give to-day -we shall lift the heart and dry the tear -we shall plant a hope in the place of fear -we shall speak with words of love and cheer -but what have we done to-day -we shall be so kind in the after while -but what have we been to-day -we shall bring to each lonely life a smile -but what have we brought to-day -we shall give to truth a grander birth -and to steadfast faith a deeper worth -we shall feed the hungering souls of earth -but whom have we fed to-day - - - -my name is tommy, an' i hates -that feller of my sister kate's -he's bigger'n i am an' you see -he's sorter lookin' down on me -an' i resents it with a vim -i think i am just as good as him -he's older, an' he's mighty fly - -one time he came,--down by the gate -i guess it must have been awful late -an' katie, she was there, an' they -was feelin' very nice and gay -an' he was talkin' all the while -about her sweet an' lovin' smile -an' everythin' was as nice as pie - -they didn't see me, 'cause i slid -down underneath a bush, an' hid -an' he was sayin' that his love -was greater'n all the stars above -up in the glorious heavens placed -an' then his arms got 'round her waist -an' clouds were floatin' in the sky - -i didn't hear just all they said -but by an' by my sister's head -was droopin' on his shoulder, an -i seen him holdin' katie's hand -an' then he hugged her closer, some -an' then i heerd a kiss--yum, yum -an' katie blushed an' drew a sigh - -an' then that feller looked around -an' seed me there, down on the ground -an'--was he mad? well, betcher boots -i gets right out of there an' scoots -an' he just left my sister kate -a-standin' right there by the gate -an' i seen blood was in his eye - -i runned the very best i could -but he cotched up--i's 'fraid he would -an' then he said he'd teach me how -to know my manners, he'd allow -an' then he shaked me awful. gee -he jest--he frashed the ground with me -an' then he stopped it by and by - -an' then he went back to the gate -an' couldn't find my sister kate -was runnin' 'round an' thumpin' me -i got round in a shadder dim -an' made a face, an' guffed at him -an' then the moon larfed, in the sky - - - -is it worth while that we jostle a brother -bearing his load on the rough road of life -is it worth while that we jeer at each other -in blackness of heart that we war to the knife -god pity us all in our pitiful strife - -god pity as all as we jostle each other -god pardon us all for the triumph we feel -when a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather -pierced to the heart: words are keener than steel -and mightier far for woe than for weal - -were it not well, in this brief little journey -on over the isthmus, down into the tide -we give him a fish instead of a serpent -ere folding the hands to be and abide -forever and aye in dust at his side - -look at the roses saluting each other -look at the herds all at peace on the plain -man, and man only, makes war on his brother -and laughs in his heart at his peril and pain -shamed by the beasts that go down on the plain - -is it worth while that we battle to humble -some poor fellow down into the dust -god pity us all! time too soon will tumble -all of us together, like leaves in a gust -humbled, indeed, down into the dust - - - -there are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave -there are souls that are pure and true -then give to the world the best you have -and the best will come back to you - -give love, and love to your life will flow -a strength in your utmost need -have faith, and a score of hearts will show -their faith in your work and deed - -give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind -and honor will honor meet -and the smile which is sweet will surely find -a smile that is just as sweet - -give pity and sorrow to those who mourn -you will gather in flowers again -the scattered seeds from your thought outborne -though the sowing seemed in vain - -for life is the mirror of king and slave -then give to the world the best you have -and the best will come back to you - - - -a boy drove into the city, his wagon loaded down -with food to feed the people of the british-governed town -and the little black-eyed rebel, so cunning and so sly -was watching for his coming from the corner of her eye - -his face was broad and honest, his hands were brown and tough -the clothes he wore upon him were homespun, coarse, and rough -but one there was who watched him, who long time lingered nigh -and cast at him sweet glances from the corner of her eye - -he drove up to the market, he waited in the line -his apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine -but long and long he waited, and no one came to buy -save the black-eyed rebel, watching from the corner of her eye - -and, "who wants my potatoes?" he repeated to the crowd -but from all the people round him came no word of reply -save the black-eyed rebel, answering from the corner of her eye - -for she knew that 'neath the lining of the coat he wore that day -were long letters from the husbands and the fathers far away -who were fighting for the freedom that they meant to gain, or die -and a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye - -but the treasures--how to get them? crept the question through her mind -since keen enemies were watching for what prizes they might find -and she paused a while and pondered, with a pretty little sigh -then resolve crept through her features, and a shrewdness fired her eye - -so she resolutely walked up to the wagon old and red -and the brown face flushed to scarlet, for the boy was somewhat shy -and he saw her laughing at him from the corner of her eye - -and she clambered on the wagon, minding not who all were by -with a laugh of reckless romping in the corner of her eye - -clinging round his brawny neck, she clasped her fingers white and small -and then whispered, "quick! the letters! thrust them underneath my shawl -carry back again _this_ package, and be sure that you are spry -and she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye - -loud the motley crowd was laughing at the strange, ungirlish freak -and the boy was scared and panting, and so dashed he could not speak -and "miss, i have good apples," a bolder lad did cry -but she answered, "no, i thank you," from the corner of her eye - -with the news from loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet -searching them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the street -thought the little black-eyed rebel with a twinkle in her eye - - - -if you sit down at set of sun -and count the deeds that you have done -and, counting, find -one self-denying act, one word that eased the heart of him that heard -one glance most kind, which felt like sunshine where it went -then you may count that day well spent - -but if through, all the livelong day -you've eased no heart by yea or nay -if through it all you've nothing done that you can trace -that brought the sunshine to one face -no act most small that helped some soul and nothing cost -then count that day as worse than lost - - -say not the struggle nought availeth -the labor and the wounds are vain -the enemy faints not, nor faileth -and as things have been they remain - -if hopes were dupes, fears may be liars -it may be, in yon smoke concealed -your comrades chase e'en now the fliers -and, but for you, possess the field - -for while the tired waves, vainly breaking -seem here no painful inch to gain -far back, through creeks and inlets making -comes silent, flooding in, the main - -and not by eastern windows only -when daylight comes, comes in the light -in front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly -but westward, look, the land is bright - - - -there dwelt a miller, hale and bold -beside the river dee -he worked and sang from morn till night -no lark more blithe than he -and this the burden of his song -forever used to be -and nobody envies me - -for could my heart be light as thine -i'd gladly change with thee -and tell me now, what makes thee sing -with voice so loud and free -while i am sad, though i'm a king -beside the river dee - -the miller smiled and doffed his cap -i love my children three -i owe no penny i cannot pay -i thank the river dee -that turns the mill that grinds the corn -that feeds my babes and me - -but say no more, if thou'dst be true -that no one envies thee -thy mealy cap is worth my crown -thy mill my kingdom's fee -such men as thou art england's boast -o miller of the dee - - - -take me back to the days when the old red cradle rocked -in the sunshine of the years that are gone -to the good old trusty days, when the door was never locked -and we slumbered unmolested till the dawn - -i remember of my years i had numbered almost seven -and the old cradle stood against the wall -i was youngest of the five, and two were gone to heaven -but the old red cradle rocked us all - -and if ever came a day when my cheeks were flushed and hot -when i did not mind my porridge or my play -i would clamber up its side and the pain would be forgot -when the old red cradle rocked away - -it has been a hallowed spot where i've turned through all the years -which have brought me the evil with the good -and i turn again to-night, aye, and see it through my tears -the place where the dear old cradle stood - -by its side my father paused with a little time to spare -and the care-lines would soften on his brow -ah! 't was but a little while that i knew a father's care -but i fancy in my dreams i see him now - -by my mother it was rocked when the evening meal was laid -and again i seem to see her as she smiled -when the rest were all in bed, 'twas there she knelt and prayed -by the old red cradle and her child - -aye, it cradled one and all, brothers, sisters in it lay -and it gave me the sweetest rest i've known -but to-night the tears will flow, and i let them have their way -for the passing years are leaving me alone - -and it seems of those to come, i would gladly give them all -for a slumber as free from care as then -just to wake to-morrow morn where the rising sun would fall -round the old red cradle once again - -but the cradle long has gone and the burdens that it bore -one by one, have been gathered to the fold -still the flock is incomplete, for it numbers only four -with one left out straying in the cold - -heaven grant again we may in each other's arms be locked -where no sad tears of parting ever fall -god forbid that one be lost that the old red cradle rocked -and the dear old cradle rocked us all - - - -my papa held me up to the moo cow moo -so close i could almost touch -and i fed him a couple of times or so -and i wasn't a fraid-cat, much - -but if my papa goes in the house -and my mamma she goes in too -i keep still like a little mouse -for the moo cow moo might moo - -the moo cow's tail is a piece of rope -all raveled out where it grows -and it's just like feeling a piece of soap -all over the moo cow's nose - -and the moo cow moo has lots of fun -just switching his tail about -but if he opens his mouth, why then i run -for that's where the moo comes out - -the moo cow moo has deers on his head -and his eyes stick out of their place -and the nose of the moo cow moo is spread -all over the moo cow's face - -and his feet are nothing but fingernails -and his mamma don't keep them cut -and he gives folks milk in water pails -when he don't keep his handles shut - -but if you or i pull his handles, why -the moo cow moo says it hurts -but the hired man sits down close by -and squirts, and squirts, and squirts - - - -all things bright and beautiful -all creatures great and small -all things wise and wonderful -the lord god made them all - -each little flower that opens -each little bird that sings -he made their glowing colors -he made their tiny wings - -the rich man in his castle -the poor man at his gate -god made them, high or lowly -and ordered their estate - -the purple-headed mountain -the river running by -the morning, and the sunset -that lighteth up the sky - -the cold wind in the winter -the pleasant summer sun -the ripe fruits in the garden -he made them, every one - -the tall trees in the greenwood -the meadows where we play -the rushes by the water -we gather every day - -he gave us eyes to see them -and lips that we might tell -how great is god almighty -who hath made all things well - - - -oh, good painter, tell me true -has your hand the cunning to draw -shapes of things that you never saw -aye? well, here is an order for you - -woods and cornfields, a little brown -the picture must not be over-bright -yet all in the golden and gracious light -of a cloud, when the summer sun is down -alway and alway, night and morn -woods upon woods, with fields of corn -lying between them, not quite sere -and not in the full, thick, leafy bloom -when the wind can hardly find breathing-room -under their tassels,--cattle near -biting shorter the short green grass -and a hedge of sumach and sassafras -with bluebirds twittering all around -these, and the little house where i was born -low and little, and black and old -with children, many as it can hold -all at the windows, open wide -heads and shoulders clear outside -and fair young faces all ablush -perhaps you have seen, some day -roses crowding the self-same way -out of a wilding, wayside bush - -listen closer. when you have done -with woods and cornfields and grazing herds -a lady, the loveliest ever the sun -looked down upon you must paint for me -oh, if i could only make you see -the clear blue eyes, the tender smile -the sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace -the woman's soul, and the angel's face -that are beaming on me all the while -i need not speak these foolish words -yet one word tells you all i would say -she is my mother: you will agree -that all the rest may be thrown away - -two little urchins at her knee -you must paint, sir: one like me -the other with a clearer brow -and the light of his adventurous eyes -flashing with boldest enterprise -at ten years old he went to sea -god knoweth if he be living now -he sailed in the good ship "commodore -nobody ever crossed her track -to bring us news, and she never came back -ah, it is twenty long years and more -since that old ship went out of the bay -with my great-hearted brother on her deck -i watched him till he shrank to a speck -and his face was toward me all the way -bright his hair was, a golden brown -the time we stood at our mother's knee -that beauteous head, if it did go down -carried sunshine into the sea - -out in the fields one summer night -we were together, half afraid -of the corn-leaves' rustling, and of the shade -of the high hills, stretching so still and far -loitering till after the low little light -of the candle shone through the open door -and over the hay-stack's pointed top -all of a tremble and ready to drop -the first half-hoar, the great yellow star -that we, with staring, ignorant eyes -had often and often watched to see -propped and held in its place in the skies -by the fork of a tall red mulberry-tree -which close in the edge of our flax-field grew -dead at the top, just one branch full -of leaves, notched round, and lined with wool -from which it tenderly shook the dew -over our heads, when we came to play -in its hand-breadth of shadow, day after day -afraid to go home, sir; for one of us bore -a nest full of speckled and thin-shelled eggs -the other, a bird, held fast by the legs -not so big as a straw of wheat -the berries we gave her she wouldn't eat -but cried and cried, till we held her bill -so slim and shining, to keep her still - -at last we stood at our mother's knee -do you think, sir, if you try -you can paint the look of a lie -if you can, pray have the grace -to put it solely in the face -of the urchin that is likest me -i think 'twas solely mine, indeed -but that's no matter,--paint it so -the eyes of our mother--(take good heed -looking not on the nestful of eggs -nor the fluttering bird, held so fast by the legs -but straight through our faces down to our lies -and, oh, with such injured, reproachful surprise -i felt my heart bleed where that glance went, as though -a sharp blade struck through it - -you, sir, know -that you on the canvas are to repeat -things that are fairest, things most sweet -woods and cornfields and mulberry-tree -the mother,--the lads, with their bird at her knee -but, oh, that look of reproachful woe -high as the heavens your name i'll shout -if you paint me the picture, and leave that out - - - -who won the war -of ruthless hordes who thought to ride -her borders through and prostrate france -ere yet she'd time to raise her lance - -who won the war -italia broke the galling chain -which bound her to the guilty twain -then fought 'gainst odds till one of these -lay prone and shattered at her knees - -who won the war -old england's watch dogs of the main -their vigil kept, and not in vain -for not a ship their wrath dared brave -save those which skulked beneath the wave - -who won the war -the grandest words on history's page -and he could never pass verdun - -who won the war -in darkest hour there rose a cry -thank god! they came across the sea -two million men and victory - -who won the war -no one of these; not one, but all -who answered freedom's clarion call -each humble man who did his bit -in god's own book of fame is writ -these won the war - - - -the bravest battle that ever was fought -shall i tell you where and when -on the map of the world you will find it not - -nay, not with cannon or battle shot -with sword or nobler pen -nay, not with eloquent words or thought -from mouths of wonderful men - -but deep in the walled-up woman's heart -of woman that would not yield -but bravely, silently, bore her part -lo, there is the battle field - -no marshaling troup, no bivouac song -no banner to gleam or wave -but oh, these battles, they last so long -from babyhood to the grave - -yet, faithful as a bridge of stars -she fights in her walled-up town -fights on and on in the endless wars -then, silent, unseen, goes down - -oh, ye with banner and battle shot -and soldiers to shout and praises -i tell you the kingliest victories fought -were fought in those silent ways - -oh, spotless in a world of shame -with splendid and silent scorn -go back to god as white as you came -the kingliest warrior born - - - -bob went lookin' for a job -didn't want a situation; didn't ask a lofty station -didn't have a special mission for a topnotcher's position -didn't have such fine credentials--but he had the real essentials -had a head that kept on workin' and two hands that were not shirkin -wasn't either shirk or snob -wasn't mister--just plain bob -who was lookin' for a job - -bob went lookin' for a job -and he wasn't scared or daunted when he saw a sign--"men wanted -walked right in with manner fittin' up to where the boss was sittin -and he said: "my name is bob, and i'm lookin' for a job -and if you're the boss that hires 'em, starts 'em working and that -fires 'em -put my name right down here, neighbor, as a candidate for labor -for my name is just plain 'bob -and my pulses sort o' throb -for that thing they call a job -bob kept askin' for a job -and the boss, he says: "what kind?" and bob answered: "never mind -for i am not a bit partic'ler and i never was a stickler -for proprieties in workin'--if you got some labor lurkin -anywhere around about kindly go and trot it out -it's, a job i want, you see -any kind that there may be -will be good enough for me - -well, sir, bob he got a job -but the boss went 'round all day in a dreamy sort of way -and he says to me: "by thunder, we have got the world's eighth wonder -got a feller name of bob who just asked me for a job -never asks when he engages about overtime in wages -never asked if he'd get pay by the hour or by the day -never asked me if it's airy work and light and sanitary -never asked me for my notion of the chances of promotion -never asked for the duration of his annual vacation -never asked for saturday half-a-holiday with pay -never took me on probation till he tried the situation -never asked me if it's sittin' work or standin', or befittin -of his birth and inclination--he just filed his application -hung his coat up on a knob -said his name was just plain bob -and went workin' at a job - - - -whatever i do and whatever i say -aunt tabitha tells me it isn't the way -when _she_ was a girl (forty summers ago -aunt tabitha tells me they never did so - -dear aunt! if i only would take her advice -but i like my own way, and i find it _so_ nice -and besides, i forget half the things i am told -but they all will come back to me--when i am old - -if a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt -he may chance to look in as i chance to look out -it is _horrid_, she says, and i mustn't sit there - -a walk in the moonlight has pleasures, i own -but it isn't quite safe to be walking alone -so i take a lad's arm--just for safety you know -but aunt tabitha tells me _they_ didn't do so - -how wicked we are, and how good they were then -they kept at arm's length those detestable men -what an era of virtue she lived in!--but stay -were the _men_ all such rogues in aunt tabitha's day - -if the men _were_ so wicked, i'll ask my papa -how he dared to propose to my darling mamma -was he like the rest of them? goodness! who knows -and what shall _i_ say, if a wretch should propose - -i am thinking if aunt knew so little of sin -what a wonder aunt tabitha's aunt must have been -and her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad -that we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad - -a martyr will save us, and nothing else can -let _me perish_--to rescue some wretched young man -though when to the altar a victim i go -aunt tabitha'll tell me _she_ never did so - - -hats off -along the street there comes -a blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums -a flash of color beneath the sky -hats off -the flag is passing by - -blue and crimson and white it shines -over the steel-tipped, ordered lines -hats off -the colors before us fly -but more than the flag is passing by - -sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great -fought to make and to save the state -weary marches and sinking ships -cheers of victory on dying lips - -days of plenty and years of peace -march of a strong land's swift increase -equal justice, right and law -stately honor and reverent awe - -sign of a nation, great and strong -to ward her people from foreign wrong -pride and glory and honor, all -live in the colors to stand or fall - -hats off -along the street there comes -a blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums -and loyal hearts are beating high -hats off -the flag is passing by - - - -the rivers of france are ten score and twain -but five are the names that we know -the marne, the vesle, the oureq and the aisne -and the somme of the swampy flow - -the rivers of france, from source to sea -are nourished by many a rill -but these five, if ever a drouth there be -the fountains of sorrow would fill - -the rivers of france shine silver white -but the waters of five are red -with the richest blood, in the fiercest fight -for freedom that ever was shed - -the rivers of france sing soft as they run -but five have a song of their own -that hymns the fall of the arrogant one -and the proud cast down from his throne - -the rivers of france all quietly take -to sleep in the house of their birth -but the carnadined wave of five shall break -on the uttermost strands of earth - -five rivers of france--see! their names are writ -on a banner of crimson and gold -and the glory of those who fashioned it -shall nevermore cease to be told - - - -there's no dew left on the daisies and clover -there's no rain left in heaven -i've said my "seven times" over and over -seven times one are seven - -i am old, so old i can write a letter -my birthday lessons are done -the lambs play always, they know no better -they are only one times one - -o moon! in the night i have seen you sailing -and shining so round and low -you were bright! but your light is failing -you are nothing now but a bow - -you moon, have you done something wrong in heaven -that god has hidden your face -i hope if you have, you'll soon be forgiven -and shine again in your place - -o velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow -you've powdered your legs with gold -o brave marshmary buds, rich and yellow -give me your money to hold - -o columbine, open your folded wrapper -where two twin turtle-doves dwell -o cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper -that hangs in your clear green bell - -and show me your nest, with the young ones in it -i will not steal them away -i am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet -i am seven times one to-day - - - -you bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes -how many soever they be -and let the brown meadow-lark's note as he ranges -come over, come over to me - -yet birds' clearest carol by fall or by swelling -no magical sense conveys -and bells have forgotten their old art of telling -the fortune of future days - -while a boy listened alone -made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily -all by himself on a stone - -poor bells! i forgive you; your good days are over -and mine, they are yet to be -no listening, no longing shall aught, aught discover -you leave the story to me - -the foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather -preparing her hoods of snow -she was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather -oh, children take long to grow - -i wish and i wish that the spring would go faster -nor long summer bide so late -and i could grow on like the foxglove and aster -for some things are ill to wait - -i wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover -while dear hands are laid on my head -for all the lessons are said - -i wait for my story--the birds cannot sing it -not one, as he sits on the tree -the bells cannot ring it, but long years, oh bring it -such as i wish it to be - - - - -i leaned out of window, i smelt the white clover -dark, dark was the garden, i saw not the gate -hush, nightingale, hush! o sweet nightingale, wait -till i listen and hear -if a step draweth near -for my love he is late - -a cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree -the fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer -to what art thou listening, and what dost thou see -let the star-clusters grow -let the sweet waters flow -and cross quickly to me - -from sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep -you glowworms, shine out, and the pathway discover -to him that comes darkling along the rough steep -ah, my sailor, make haste -for the time runs to waste -and my love lieth deep - -i've conned thee an answer, it waits thee to-night -by the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover -then all the sweet speech i had fashioned took flight -but i'll love him more, more -than e'er wife loved before -be the days dark or bright - - - - -heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups -fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall -when the wind wakes, how they rock in the grasses -and dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small -here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's own lasses -eager to gather them all - -heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups -mother shall thread them a daisy chain -sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow -that loved her brown little ones, loved them full fain -sing, "heart, thou art wide though the house be but narrow -sing once, and sing it again - -heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups -sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they bow -a ship sails afar over warm ocean waters -and haply one musing doth stand at her prow -o bonny brown son, and o sweet little daughters -maybe he thinks on you now - -heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups -fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall -a sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure -and fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall -send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure -god that is over us all - - - -ere, in the northern gale -the summer tresses of the trees are gone -the woods of autumn, all around our vale -have put their glory on - -the mountains that infold -in their wide sweep, the colored landscape round -seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold -that guard the enchanted ground - -i roam the woods that crown -the upland, where the mingled splendors glow -where the gay company of trees look down -on the green fields below - -my steps are not alone -in these bright walks; the sweet southwest, at play -flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown -along the winding way - -and far in heaven, the while -the sun, that sends that gale to wander here -pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile -the sweetest of the year - -where now the solemn shade -verdure and gloom where many branches meet -so grateful, when the noon of summer made -the valleys sick with heat - -let in through all the trees -come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright -their sunny-colored foliage, in the breeze -twinkles, like beams of light - -the rivulet, late unseen -where bickering through the shrubs its waters run -shines with the image of its golden screen -and glimmerings of the sun - -but 'neath yon crimson tree -lover to listening maid might breathe his flame -nor mark, within its roseate canopy -her blush of maiden shame - -oh, autumn! why so soon -depart the hues that make thy forests glad -thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon -and leave thee wild and sad - -ah! 'twere a lot too blessed -forever in thy colored shades to stray -amid the kisses of the soft southwest -to rove and dream for aye - -and leave the vain low strife -that makes men mad--the tug for wealth and power -the passions and the cares that wither life -and waste its little hour - - - -did you ever hear of the drummer boy of mission ridge, who lay -with his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, in the charge of -that terrible day -they were firing above him and firing below, and the tempest of shot -and shell -was raging like death, as he moaned in his pain, by the breastworks -where he fell - -moment when -he might follow the ranks and shoulder a gun with the best of us -bearded men -and so when the signals from old fort wood set an army of veterans wild -he flung down his drum, which spun down the hill like the ball of a -wayward child - -as we charged by the flank, with our colors ahead, and our columns -in the long, swinging lines of that splendid advance, when the flags -of our corps floated out -like the ribbons that dance in the jubilant lines of the march of a -gala day rout - -he charged with the ranks, though he carried no gun, for the colonel -had said him nay -and he breasted the blast of the bristling guns, and the shock of the -sickening fray -and when by his side they were falling like hail he sprang to a comrade -slain -and shouldered his musket and bore it as true as the hand that was dead -in pain - -black eye -that flashed forth a spirit too great for his form--he only was just so -as tall, perhaps, as your little lad who scarcely reaches your shoulder -though his heart was the heart of a veteran then, a trifle, it may be -bolder - -he pressed to the front, our lad so leal, and the works were almost won -a moment more and our flags had swung o'er the muzzle of murderous gun -but a raking fire swept the van, and he fell 'mid the wounded and slain -with his wee wan face turned up to him who feeleth his children's pain - -again and again our lines fell back, and again with shivering shocks -they flung themselves on the rebels' works as ships are tossed on rocks -to be crushed and broken and scattered amain, as the wrecks of the -surging storm -where none may rue and none may reck of aught that has human form - -so under the ridge we were lying for the order to charge again -and we counted our comrades missing, and we counted our comrades slain -and one said, "johnny, our drummer boy, is grievously shot and lies -just under the enemy's breastwork; if left on the field he dies - -then all the blood that was in me surged up to my aching brow -and my heart leaped up like a ball in my throat--i can feel it even now -and i said i would bring that boy from the field, if god would spare my -breath -if all the guns in mission ridge should thunder the threat of death - -i crept and crept up the ghastly ridge, by the wounded and the dead -with the moans of my comrades right and left, behind me and yet ahead -till i came to the form of our drummer boy, in his blouse of dusty blue -with his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, where the blast of -the battle blew - -and his gaze as he met my own just there would have melted a heart of -stone -as he tried like a wounded bird to rise, and placed his hand in my own -and he said in a voice half smothered, though its whispering thrills -me yet - -the men go up those breastworks there, just stop and waken me -for though i cannot make the charge and join the cheers that rise -i may forget my pain to see the old flag kiss the skies - -well, it was hard to treat him so, his poor limb shattered sore -but i raised him on my shoulder and to the surgeon bore -and the boys who saw us coming each gave a shout of joy -and uttered fervent prayers for him, our valiant drummer boy - -when sped the news that "fighting joe" had saved the union right -with his legions fresh from lookout; and that thomas massed his might -and forced the rebel center; and our cheering ran like wild -and sherman's heart was happy as the heart of a little child - -when grant from his lofty outlook saw our flags by the hundred fly -along the slopes of mission ridge, where'er he cast his eye -and when we heard the thrilling news of the mighty battle done -the fearful contest ended, and the glorious victory won - -then his bright black eyes so yearning grew strangely rapt and wide -and in that hour of conquest our little hero died -but ever in our hearts he dwells, with a grace that ne'er is old -for him the heart to duty wed can nevermore grow cold - -and when they tell of heroes, and the laurels they have won -of the scars they are doomed to carry, of the deeds that they have done -of the horror to be biding among the ghastly dead -the gory sod beneath them, the bursting shell o'erhead - -my heart goes back to mission ridge and the drummer boy who lay -with his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, in the charge of -that terrible day -and i say that the land that bears such sons is crowned and dowered -with all -the dear god giveth nations to stay them lest they fall - -oh, glory of mission ridge, stream on, like the roseate light of morn -on the sons that now are living, on the sons that are yet unborn -and cheers for our comrades living, and tears as they pass away -and three times three for the drummer boy who fought at the front that - - -if you can keep your head when all about you -are losing theirs and blaming it on you -if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you -but make allowance for their doubting too -if you can wait and not be tired by waiting -or being lied about don't deal in lies -or being hated don't give way to hating -and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise - -if you can dream and not make dreams your master -if you can think and not make thoughts your aim -if you can meet with triumph and disaster -and treat those two impostors just the same -if you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken -twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools -or watch the things you gave your life to broken -and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools - -if you can make one heap of all your winnings -and risk it on one turn of pitch and toss -and lose, and start again at your beginnings -and never breathe a word about your loss -if you can force your heart and nerve and sinew -to serve your turn long after they are gone -and so hold on when there is nothing in you -except the will which says to them: "hold on - -if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue -or walk with kings nor lose the common touch -if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you -if all men count with you, but none too much -if you can fill the unforgiving minute -with sixty seconds' worth of distance run -yours is the earth and everything that's in it -and--which is more--you'll be a man, my son - - - -some boys are mad when comp'ny comes to stay for meals. they hate -to have the other people eat while boys must wait and wait -but i've about made up my mind i'm different from the rest -for as for me, i b'lieve i like the second table best - -to eat along with comp'ny is so trying, for it's tough -to sit and watch the victuals when you dassent touch the stuff -you see your father serving out the dark meat and the light -until a boy is sure he'll starve before he gets a bite - -and when, he asks you what you'll have,--you've heard it all before -you know you'll get just what you get and won't get nothing more -for, when you want another piece, your mother winks her eye -and so you say, "i've plenty, thanks!" and tell a whopping lie - -when comp'ny is a-watching you, you've got to be polite -and eat your victuals with a fork and take a little bite -you can't have nothing till you're asked and, 'cause a boy is small -folks think he isn't hungry, and he's never asked at all - -since i can first remember i've been told that when the cake -is passed around, the proper thing is for a boy to take -the piece that's nearest to him, and so all i ever got -when comp'ny's been to our house, was the smallest in the lot - -it worries boys like everything to have the comp'ny stay -a-setting round the table, like they couldn't get away -but when they've gone, and left the whole big shooting match to me -say! ain't it fun to just wade in and help myself? oh, gee - -with no one round to notice what you're doing--bet your life -boys don't use forks to eat with when they'd rather use a knife -nor take such little bites as when they're eating with the rest -and so, for lots of things, i like the second table best - - - -when the lessons and tasks are all ended -and the school for the day is dismissed -and the little ones gather around me -to bid me good night and be kissed -oh, the little white arms that encircle -my neck in their tender embrace -oh, the smiles that are halos of heaven -shedding sunshine of love on my face - -and when they are gone, i sit dreaming -of my childhood, too lovely to last -of love that my heart will remember -when it wakes to the pulse of the past -ere the world and its wickedness made me -a partner of sorrow and sin -when the glory of god was about me -and the glory of gladness within - -all my heart grows weak as a woman's -and the fountains of feeling will flow -when i think of the paths steep and stony -where the feet of the dear ones must go -of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them -of the tempest of fate blowing wild -oh, there's nothing on earth half so holy -as the innocent heart of a child - -they are idols of hearts and of households -they are angels of god in disguise -his sunlight still sleeps in their tresses -his glory still gleams in their eyes -oh, these truants from home and from heaven -they have made me more manly and mild -and i know now how jesus could liken -the kingdom of god to a child - -i ask not a life for the dear ones -all radiant, as others have done -but that life may have just enough shadow -to temper the glare of the sun -i would pray god to guard them from evil -but my prayer would bound back to myself -ah! a seraph may pray for a sinner -but a sinner must pray for himself - -the twig is so easily bended -i have banished the rule and the rod -i have taught them the goodness of knowledge -they have taught me the goodness of god -my heart is the dungeon of darkness -where i shut them for breaking a rule -my frown is sufficient correction -my love is the law of the school - -i shall leave the old house in the autumn -to traverse its threshold no more -ah! how shall i sigh for the dear ones -that meet me each morn at the door -i shall miss the "good nights" and the kisses -and the gush of their innocent glee -the group on its green, and the flowers -that are brought every morning to me - -i shall miss them at morn and at even -their song in the school and the street -i shall miss the low hum of their voices -and the tread of their delicate feet -when the lessons of life are all ended -and death says, "the school is dismissed -may the little ones gather around me -to bid me good night and be kissed - - - -not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse -the stockings were hung by the chimney with care -in hopes that st. nicholas soon would be there -the children were nestled all snug in their beds -while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads -and mamma in her kerchief, and i in my cap -had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap -when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter -i sprang from my bed to see what was the matter -away to the window i flew like a flash -tore open the shutters and threw up the sash -the moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow -gave a luster of midday to objects below -when what to my wondering eyes should appear -but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer -with a little old driver, so lively and quick -i knew in a moment it must be st. nick -more rapid than eagles his coursers they came -and he whistled and shouted, and called them by name -on, comet, on, cupid! on, donder and blitzen -to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall -now, dash away, dash sway, dash away all -as dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly -when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky -so, up to the house-top the coursers they flew -with the sleigh full of toys, and st. nicholas too -and then in a twinkling i heard on the roof -the prancing and pawing of each little hoof -as i drew in my head, and was turning around -down the chimney st. nicholas came with a bound -he was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot -and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot -a bundle of toys he had flung on his back -and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack -his eyes how they twinkled; his dimples how merry -his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry -his droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow -and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow -the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth -and the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath -he had a broad face and a little round belly -that shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly -he was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf -and i laughed when i saw him, in spite of myself -a wink of his eye, and a twist of his head -soon gave me to know i had nothing to dread -he spake not a word, but went straight to his work -and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk -and laying his finger aside of his nose -and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose -he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle -and away they all flew like the down of a thistle -but i heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight - - - -if you cannot on the ocean -sail among the swiftest fleet -rocking on the highest billows -laughing at the storms you meet -you can stand among the sailors -anchored yet within the bay -you can lend a hand to help them -as they launch their boats away - -if you are too weak to journey -up the mountain steep and high -you can stand within the valley -while the multitudes go by -you can chant in happy measure -as they slowly pass along -though they may forget the singer -they will not forget the song - -if you have not gold and silver -ever ready to command -if you cannot towards the needy -reach an ever-open hand -you can visit the afflicted -o'er the erring you can weep -you can be a true disciple -sitting at the savior's feet - -if you cannot in the conflict -prove yourself a soldier true -if where fire and smoke are thickest -there's no work for you to do -when the battle-field is silent -you can go with careful tread -you can bear away the wounded -you can cover up the dead - -do not then stand idly waiting -for some greater work to do -fortune is a lazy goddess -she will never come to you -go and toil in any vineyard -do not fear to do or dare -if you want a field of labor -you can find it anywhere - - - -there are hermit souls that live withdrawn -in the peace of their self-content -there are souls, like stars, that dwell apart -in a fellowless firmament -there are pioneer souls that blaze their paths -where highways never ran -but let me live by the side of the road -and be a friend to man - -let me live in a house by the side of the road -where the race of men go by -the men who are good and the men who are bad -i would not sit in the scorner's seat -or hurl the cynic's ban -let me live in a house by the side of the road -and be a friend to man - -i see from my house by the side of the road -by the side of the highway of life -the men who press with the ardor of hope -the men who are faint with the strife -but i turn not away from their smiles nor their tears -both parts of an infinite plan -let me live in my house by the side of the road -and be a friend to man - -i know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead -and mountains of wearisome height -that the road passes on through the long afternoon -and stretches away to the night -but still i rejoice when the travelers rejoice -and weep with the strangers that moan -nor live in my house by the side of the road -like a man who dwells alone - -let me live in my house by the side of the road -where the race of men go by -they are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong -then why should i sit in the scorner's seat -or hurl the cynic's ban -let me live in my house by the side of the road -and be a friend to man - - - -the first thing that i remember was carlo tugging away -with the sleeve of my coat fast in his teeth, pulling, as much as to -think of the souls in the coming train, and the graves you are sending -them to -think of the mother and the babe at her breast, think of the father and -think of the lover and the loved one too, think of them doomed every one -to fall (as it were by your very hand) into yon fathomless ditch -murdered by one who should guard them from harm, who now lies asleep at -the switch - -i sprang up amazed--scarce knew where i stood, sleep had o'ermastered -me so -i could hear the wind hollowly howling, and the deep river dashing below -i could hear the forest leaves rustling, as the trees by the tempest were -fanned -but what was that noise in the distance? that, i could not understand -i heard it at first indistinctly, like the rolling of some muffled drum -then nearer and nearer it came to me, till it made my very ears hum -what is this light that surrounds me and seems to set fire to my brain -what whistle's that, yelling so shrill? ah! i know now; it's the train - -we often stand facing some danger, and seem to take root to the place -so i stood--with this demon before me, its heated breath scorching my -its headlight made day of the darkness, and glared like the eyes of -some witch -the train was almost upon me before i remembered the switch -i sprang to it, seizing it wildly, the train dashing fast down the track -the switch resisted my efforts, some devil seemed holding it back -on, on came the fiery-eyed monster, and shot by my face like a flash -i swooned to the earth the next moment, and knew nothing after the crash - -how long i lay there unconscious 'twas impossible for me to tell -my stupor was almost a heaven, my waking almost a hell -for then i heard the piteous moaning and shrieking of husbands and wives -and i thought of the day we all shrink from, when i must account for -their lives -mothers rushed by me like maniacs, their eyes glaring madly and wild -fathers, losing their courage, gave way to their grief like a child -children searching for parents, i noticed, as by me they sped -and lips, that could form naught but "mamma," were calling for one -perhaps dead - -my mind was made up in a moment, the river should hide me away -when, under the still burning rafters i suddenly noticed there lay -a little white hand; she who owned it was doubtless an object of love -to one whom her loss would drive frantic, though she guarded him now -from above -i tenderly lifted the rafters and quietly laid them one side -how little she thought of her journey when she left for this dark, fatal -i lifted the last log from off her, and while searching for some spark -of life -turned her little face up in the starlight, and recognized--maggie, my - -o lord! my scourge is a hard one, at a blow thou hast shattered my pride -my life will be one endless nightmare, with maggie away from my side -how often i'd sat down and pictured the scenes in our long, happy life -how i'd strive through all my lifetime, to build up a home for my wife -how people would envy us always in our cozy and neat little nest -how i should do all the labor, and maggie should all the day rest -how one of god's blessings might cheer us, how some day i perhaps should -be rich -but all of my dreams had been shattered, while i lay there asleep at the -switch - -i fancied i stood on my trial, the jury and judge i could see -and every eye in the court room was steadily fixed upon me -and fingers were pointed in scorn, till i felt my face blushing blood-red -and the next thing i heard were the words, "hanged by the neck until -then i felt myself pulled once again, and my hand caught tight hold of a -dress -guess -and there stood maggie, my wife, with never a scar from the ditch -i'd been taking a nap in my bed, and had not been "asleep at the switch - - - -a fire-mist and a planet -a crystal and a cell -a jellyfish and a saurian -and caves where the cavemen dwell -then a sense of law and beauty -and a face turned from the clod -some call it evolution -and others call it god - -a haze in the far horizon -the infinite, tender sky -the ripe, rich tints of the cornfields -and the wild geese sailing high -and all over upland and lowland -the charm of the goldenrod -some of us call it nature -and others call it god - -like tides on a crescent sea-beach -when the moon is new and thin -into our hearts high yearnings -come welling and surging in -come from the mystic ocean -whose rim no foot has trod -some of us call it longing -and others call it god - -a picket frozen on duty -a mother starved for her brood -socrates drinking the hemlock -and jesus on the rood -the millions who, humble and nameless -the straight, hard pathway trod -some call it consecration -and others call it god - - - -come, listen all unto my song -it is no silly fable -they call the atlantic cable - -bold cyrus field he said, says he -i have a pretty notion -that i can run the telegraph -across the atlantic ocean - -then all the people laughed, and said -they'd like to see him do it -he might get half-seas over, but -he never could go through it - -to carry out his foolish plan -he never would be able -he might as well go hang himself -with his atlantic cable - -but cyrus was a valiant man -a fellow of decision -and heeded not their mocking words -their laughter and derision - -twice did his bravest efforts fail -and yet his mind was stable -he wa'n't the man to break his heart -because he broke his cable - - -once more they tried--hurrah! hurrah -what means this great commotion -the lord be praised! the cable's laid -across the atlantic ocean - -loud ring the bells,--for, flashing through -six hundred leagues of water -old mother england's benison -salutes her eldest daughter - -o'er all the land the tidings speed -and soon, in every nation -they'll hear about the cable with -profoundest admiration - -the manly, bold, and stable -and tell our sons, to make them brave -how cyrus laid the cable - - - -jane jones keeps talkin' to me all the time -an' says you must make it a rule -to study your lessons 'nd work hard 'nd learn -an' never be absent from school -remember the story of elihu burritt -an' how he clum up to the top -got all the knowledge 'at he ever had -down in a blacksmithing shop -jane jones she honestly said it was so -mebbe he did -i dunno -o' course what's a-keepin' me 'way from the top -is not never havin' no blacksmithing shop - -she said 'at ben franklin was awfully poor -but full of ambition an' brains -an' studied philosophy all his hull life -an' see what he got for his pains -he brought electricity out of the sky -with a kite an' a bottle an' key -an' we're owing him more'n any one else -for all the bright lights 'at we see -jane jones she honestly said it was so -mebbe he did -i dunno -o' course what's allers been hinderin' me -is not havin' any kite, lightning er key - -jane jones said abe lincoln had no books at all -an' used to split rails when a boy -an' general grant was a tanner by trade -an' lived 'way out in illinois -so when the great war in the south first broke out -he stood on the side o' the right -an' when lincoln called him to take charge o' things -he won nearly every blamed fight -jane jones she honestly said it was so -mebbe he did -i dunno -still i ain't to blame, not by a big sight -for i ain't never had any battles to fight - -she said 'at columbus was out at the knees -when he first thought up his big scheme -an' told all the spaniards 'nd italians, too -an' all of 'em said 'twas a dream -but queen isabella jest listened to him -mebbe he did -i dunno -o' course that may be, but then you must allow -they ain't no land to discover jest now - - - -mounted on kyrat strong and fleet -his chestnut steed with four white feet -roushan beg, called kurroglou -son of the road and bandit chief -seeking refuge and relief -up the mountain pathway flew - -such was kyrat's wondrous speed -never yet could any steed -reach the dust-cloud in his course -more than maiden, more than wife -more than gold and next to life -roushan the robber loved his horse - -in the land that lies beyond -erzeroum and trebizond -garden-girt his fortress stood -plundered khan, or caravan -journeying north from koordistan -gave him wealth and wine and food - -seven hundred and fourscore -men at arms his livery wore -did his bidding night and day -now, through regions all unknown -he was wandering, lost, alone -seeking without guide his way - -suddenly the pathway ends -sheer the precipice descends -loud the torrent roars unseen -thirty feet from side to side -yawns the chasm; on air must ride -he who crosses this ravine - -following close in his pursuit -at the precipice's foot -reyhan the arab of orfah -halted with his hundred men -shouting upward from the glen - -gently roushan beg caressed -kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast -kissed him upon both his eyes -sang to him in his wild way -as upon the topmost spray -sings a bird before it flies - -round and slender as a reed -carry me this peril through -satin housings shall be thine -shoes of gold, o kyrat mine -o thou soul of kurroglou - -soft as woman's hair thy mane -tender are thine eyes and true -all thy hoofs like ivory shine -polished bright; o life of mine -leap, and rescue kurroglou - -kyrat, then, the strong and fleet -drew together his four white feet -paused a moment on the verge -measured with his eye the space -and into the air's embrace -leaped, as leaps the ocean surge - -as the ocean surge o'er sand -bears a swimmer safe to land -kyrat safe his rider bore -rattling down the deep abyss -fragments of the precipice -rolled like pebbles on a shore - -roushan's tasseled cap of red -trembled not upon his head -careless sat he and upright -neither hand nor bridle shook -nor his head he turned to look -as he galloped out of sight - -flash of harness in the air -seen a moment like the glare -of a sword drawn from its sheath -thus the phantom horseman passed -and the shadow that he cast -leaped the cataract underneath - -reyhan the arab held his breath -while this vision of life and death -passed above him. "allahu -cried he. "in all koordistan -lives there not so brave a man -as this robber kurroglou - - - -ay, tear her tattered ensign down -long has it waved on high -and many an eye has danced to see -that banner in the sky -beneath it rung the battle shout -and burst the cannon's roar -the meteor of the ocean air -shall sweep the clouds no more - -her deck, once red with heroes' blood -where knelt the vanquished foe -when winds were hurrying o'er the flood -and waves were white below -no more shall feel the victor's tread -or know the conquered knee -the harpies of the shore shall pluck -the eagle of the sea - -oh, better that her shattered hulk -should sink beneath the wave -her thunders shook the mighty deep -and there should be her grave -nail to the mast her holy flag -set every threadbare sail -and give her to the god of storms -the lightning and the gale - - - -tell me not, in mournful numbers -for the soul is dead that slumbers -and things are not what they seem - -life is real! life is earnest -and the grave is not its goal -was not spoken of the soul - -not enjoyment, and not sorrow -is our destined end or way -but to act that each to-morrow -finds us farther than to-day - -art is long, and time is fleeting -and our hearts, though stout and brave -still, like muffled drums, are beating -funeral marches to the grave - -in the world's broad field of battle -in the bivouac of life -be not like dumb, driven cattle -be a hero in the strife - -trust no future, howe'er pleasant -let the dead past bury its dead -act, act in the living present -heart within, and god o'erhead - -lives of great men all remind us -we can make our lives sublime -and, departing, leave behind us -footprints on the sands of time - -footprints, that perhaps another -sailing o'er life's solemn main -a forlorn and shipwrecked brother -seeing, shall take heart again - -let us, then, be up and doing -with a heart for any fate -still achieving, still pursuing -learn to labor and to wait - - - -i think, of all the things at school -a boy has got to do -that studyin' hist'ry, as a rule -is worst of all, don't you -of dates there are an awful sight -an' though i study day an' night -there's only one i've got just right -that's fourteen ninety-two - -columbus crossed the delaware -in fourteen ninety-two -we whipped the british, fair an' square -in fourteen ninety-two -at concord an' at lexington -we kept the redcoats on the run -while the band played johnny get your gun -in fourteen ninety-two - -pat henry, with his dyin' breath -in fourteen ninety-two -said, "gimme liberty or death -in fourteen ninety-two -an' barbara frietchie, so 'tis said -cried, "shoot if you must this old, gray head -but i'd rather 'twould be your own instead -in fourteen ninety-two - -the pilgrims came to plymouth rock -in fourteen ninety-two -an' the indians standin' on the dock -asked, "what are you goin' to do -an' they said, "we seek your harbor drear -that our children's children's children dear -may boast that their forefathers landed here -in fourteen ninety-two - -miss pocahontas saved the life -in fourteen ninety-two -of john smith, an' became his wife -in fourteen ninety-two -an' the smith tribe started then an' there -an' now there are john smiths ev'rywhere -but they didn't have any smiths to spare -in fourteen ninety-two - -kentucky was settled by daniel boone -in fourteen ninety-two -an' i think the cow jumped over the moon -in fourteen ninety-two -ben franklin flew his kite so high -he drew the lightnin' from the sky -an' washington couldn't tell a lie -in fourteen ninety-two - - - -singing through the forests, rattling over ridges -shooting under arches, rumbling over bridges -whizzing through the mountains, buzzing o'er the vale -bless me! this is pleasant, riding on the rail - -men of different stations in the eye of fame -here are very quickly coming to the same -high and lowly people, birds of every feather -on a common level, traveling together - -gentlemen in shorts, blooming very tall -gentlemen at large, talking very small -gentlemen in tights, with a loosish mien -gentlemen in gray, looking very green - -gentlemen quite old, asking for the news -gentlemen in black, with a fit of blues -gentlemen in claret, sober as a vicar -gentlemen in tweed, dreadfully in liquor - -stranger on the right looking very sunny -obviously reading something very funny -now the smiles are thicker--wonder what they mean -faith, he's got the knickerbocker magazine - -stranger on the left, closing up his peepers -now he snores again, like the seven sleepers -at his feet a volume gives the explanation -how the man grew stupid from "association - -ancient maiden lady anxiously remarks -that there must be peril 'mong so many sparks -roguish-looking fellow, turning to the stranger -says 'tis his opinion _she_ is out of danger - -woman with her baby, sitting _vis a vis -baby keeps a-squalling, woman looks at me -asks about the distance--says 'tis tiresome talking -noises of the cars are so very shocking - -market woman, careful of the precious casket -knowing eggs are eggs, tightly holds her basket -feeling that a smash, if it came, would surely -send her eggs to pot rather prematurely - -singing through the forests, rattling over ridges -shooting under arches, rumbling over bridges -whizzing through the mountains, buzzing o'er the vale -bless me! this is pleasant, riding on the rail - - - - -thou, too, sail on, o ship of state -sail on, o union, strong and great -humanity with all its fears -with all the hopes of future years -is hanging breathless on thy fate -we know what master laid thy keel -what workmen wrought thy ribs of steel -who made each mast, and sail, and rope -what anvils rang, what hammers beat -in what a forge and what a heat -were shaped the anchors of thy hope -fear not each sudden sound and shock -and not a rent made by the gale -in spite of rock and tempest's roar -in spite of false lights on the shore -sail on, nor fear to breast the sea -our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee -our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears -our faith truiumphant o'er our fears -are all with thee,--are all with thee - - - -you's as stiff an' as cold as a stone -little cat -dey's done frowed you out an' left you alone -little cat -i's a-strokin' you's fur -but you don't never purr -nor hump up anywhere -little cat -w'y is dat -is you's purrin' an' humpin'-up done - -an' w'y fer is you's little foot tied -little cat -did dey pisen you's tummick inside -little cat -did dey pound you wif bricks -or wif big nasty sticks -or abuse you wif kicks -little cat -tell me dat -did dey holler at all when you cwied - -did it hurt werry bad w'en you died -little cat -oh, w'y didn't yo wun off and hide -little cat -i is wet in my eyes -w'en a pussy cat dies -little cat -tink of dat -an' i's awfully solly besides - -dest lay still dere in de sof gwown -little cat -w'ile i tucks de gween gwass all awoun -little cat -dey can't hurt you no more -w'en you's tired an' so sore -dest sleep twiet, you pore -little cat -wif a pat -an' fordet all de kicks of de town - - - -the barber was busy, and he couldn't stop -the customers, waiting their turns, were all reading -the _daily_, the _herald_, the _post_, little heeding -the young man who blurted out such a blunt question -not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion -and the barber kept on shaving - -cried the youth, with a frown -how preposterous each wing is -how flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is -in short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis -i make no apology; i've learned owleology -i've passed days and nights in a hundred collections -and cannot be blinded to any deflections -arising from unskilful fingers that fail -to stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail -mister brown! mister brown! do take that bird down -or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town -and the barber kept on shaving - -and other night fowls -and i tell you -what i know to be true -an owl cannot roost -with his limbs so unloosed -no owl in this world -ever had his claws curled -ever had his legs slanted -ever had his bill canted -ever had his neck screwed -into that attitude -he can't _do_ it, because -anatomy teaches -ornithology preaches -an owl has a toe -that _can't_ turn out so -i've made the white owl my study for years -and to see such a job almost moves me to tears -mister brown, i'm amazed -you should be so gone crazed -as to put up a bird -in that posture absurd -to _look_ at that owl really brings on a dizziness -the man who stuffed him don't half know his business -and the barber kept on shaving - -i'm filled with surprise -taxidermists should pass -off on you such poor glass -so unnatural they seem -they'd make audubon scream -and john burroughs laugh -to encounter such chaff -do take that bird down -have him stuffed again, brown -and the barber kept on shaving - -i could stuff in the dark -an owl better than that -i could make an old hat -look more like an owl -than that horrid fowl -stuck up here so stiff like a side of coarse leather -in fact, about _him _there's not one natural feather -just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch -the owl, very gravely, got down from his perch -walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic -and then fairly hooted, as if he should say -don't waste it again on a live bird, i pray -i'm an owl; you're another. sir critic, good-day -and the barber kept on shaving - - - -the end has come, as come it must -to all things; in these sweet june days -the teacher and the scholar trust -their parting feet to separate ways - -they part: but in the years to be -shall pleasant memories cling to each -as shells bear inland from the sea -the murmur of the rhythmic beach - -one knew the joys the sculptor knows -when, plastic to his lightest touch -his clay-wrought model slowly grows -to that fine grace desired so much - -so daily grew before her eyes -the living shapes whereon she wrought -strong, tender, innocently wise -the child's heart with the woman's thought - -and one shall never quite forget -the voice that called from dream and play -the firm but kindly hand that set -her feet in learning's pleasant way - -the joy of undine soul-possessed -the wakening sense, the strange delight -that swelled the fabled statue's breast -and filled its clouded eyes with sight - -o youth and beauty, loved of all -ye pass from girlhood's gate of dreams -in broader ways your footsteps fall -ye test the truth of all that seems - -her little realm the teacher leaves -she breaks her wand of power apart -while, for your love and trust, she gives -the warm thanks of a grateful heart - -hers is the sober summer noon -contrasted with your morn of spring -the waning with the waxing moon -the folded with the outspread wing - -across the distance of the years -she sends her god-speed back to you -she has no thought of doubts or fears -be but yourselves, be pure, be true - -and prompt in duty; heed the deep -low voice of conscience; through the ill -and discord round about you, keep -your faith in human nature still - -be gentle: unto griefs and needs -be pitiful as woman should -and, spite of all the lies of creeds -hold fast the truth that god is good - -give and receive; go forth and bless -the world that needs the hand and heart -of martha's helpful carefulness -no less than mary's better part - -so shall the stream of time flow by -and leave each year a richer good -and matron loveliness outvie -the nameless charm of maidenhood - -and, when the world shall link your names -with gracious lives and manners fine -the teacher shall assert her claims -and proudly whisper, "these were mine - - - -oh, that i might have my request, and that god would grant me the thing -that i long for.--_job 6:8 - -it was peeping through the brambles, that little wild white rose -where the hawthorn hedge was planted, my garden to enclose -all beyond was fern and heather, on the breezy, open moor -all within was sun and shelter, and the wealth of beauty's store -but i did not heed the fragrance of flow'ret or of tree -for my eyes were on that rosebud, and it grew too high for me -in vain i strove to reach it through the tangled mass of green -it only smiled and nodded behind its thorny screen -yet through that summer morning i lingered near the spot -oh, why do things seem sweeter if we possess them not -my garden buds were blooming, but all that i could see -was that little mocking wild rose, hanging just too high for me - -so in life's wider garden there are buds of promise, too -beyond our reach to gather, but not beyond our view -and like the little charmer that tempted me astray -they steal out half the brightness of many a summer's day -oh, hearts that fail with longing for some forbidden tree -look up and learn a lesson from my white rose and me -than ever to be sighing for just one bud more sweet -my sunbeams and my shadows fall from a pierced hand -i can surely trust his wisdom since his heart i understand -and maybe in the morning, when his blessed face i see -he will tell me why my white rose grew just too high for me - - - -when earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried -when the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died -we shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--lie down for an aeon or two -till the master of all good workmen shall set us to work anew - -and those who were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair -they shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair -they shall find real saints to draw from--magdalene, peter and paul -they shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all - -and only the master shall praise us, and only the master shall blame -and no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame -but each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star -shall draw the thing as he sees it for the god of things as they are - - - -you're surprised that i ever should say so -just wait till the reason i've given -why i say i sha'n't care for the music -unless there is whistling in heaven -then you'll think it no very great wonder -nor so strange, nor so bold a conceit -that unless there's a boy there a-whistling -its music will not be complete - -it was late in the autumn of '40 -we had come from our far eastern home -just in season to build us a cabin -ere the cold of the winter should come -and we lived all the while in our wagon -that husband was clearing the place -where the house was to stand; and the clearing -and building it took many days - -so that our heads were scarce sheltered -in under its roof when our store -of provisions was almost exhausted -and husband must journey for more -and the nearest place where he could get them -was yet such a distance away -that it forced him from home to be absent -at least a whole night and a day - -you see, we'd but two or three neighbors -and the nearest was more than a mile -and we hadn't found time yet to know them -for we had been busy the while -and the man who had helped at the raising -just staid till the job was well done -and as soon as his money was paid him -had shouldered his axe and had gone - -well, husband just kissed me and started -i could scarcely suppress a deep groan -at the thought of remaining with baby -so long in the house alone -for, my dear, i was childish and timid -and braver ones might well have feared -for the wild wolf was often heard howling -and savages sometimes appeared - -but i smothered my grief and my terror -till husband was off on his ride -and then in my arms i took josey -and all the day long sat and cried -as i thought of the long, dreary hours -when the darkness of night should fall -and i was so utterly helpless -with no one in reach of my call - -and when the night came with its terrors -to hide ev'ry ray of light -i hung up a quilt by the window -and, almost dead with affright -i kneeled by the side of the cradle -scarce daring to draw a full breath -lest the baby should wake, and its crying -should bring us a horrible death - -there i knelt until late in the evening -and scarcely an inch had i stirred -when suddenly, far in the distance -a sound as of whistling i heard -i started up dreadfully frightened -for fear 'twas an indian's call -and then very soon i remembered -the red man ne'er whistles at all - -and when i was sure 'twas a white man -i thought, were he coming for ill -he'd surely approach with more caution -would come without warning, and still -then the sound, coming nearer and nearer -took the form of a tune light and gay -and i knew i needn't fear evil -from one who could whistle that way - -very soon i heard footsteps approaching -then came a peculiar dull thump -as if some one was heavily striking -an ax in the top of a stump -and then, in another brief moment -there came a light tap on the door -when quickly i undid the fast'ning -and in stepped a boy, and before - -there was either a question or answer -or either had time to speak -i just threw my glad arms around him -and gave him a kiss on the cheek -then i started back, scared at my boldness -but he only smiled at my fright -as he said, "i'm your neighbor's boy, ellick -come to tarry with you through the night - -and made up our minds where he'd gone -and i said to the rest of our people -and i venture she's awfully lonesome -and though she may have no great fear -i think she would feel a bit safer -if only a boy were but near - -for fear that a savage might stray -across my path and need scalping -i started right down this way -and coming in sight of the cabin -and thinking to save you alarm -i whistled a tune, just to show you -i didn't intend any harm - -but if you don't want me to stay -why, all you need do is to say so -and should'ring my axe, i'll away -i dropped in a chair and near fainted -just at thought of his leaving me then -and his eye gave a knowing bright twinkle -as he said, "i guess i'll remain - -and then i just sat there and told him -how terribly frightened i'd been -how his face was to me the most welcome -of any i ever had seen -and then i lay down with the baby -and slept all the blessed night through -for i felt i was safe from all danger -near so brave a young fellow, and true - -so now, my dear friend, do you wonder -since such a good reason i've given -why i say i sha'n't care for the music -unless there is whistling in heaven -yes, often i've said so in earnest -and now what i've said i repeat -that unless there's a boy there a-whistling -its music will not be complete - - -sleep, baby, sleep -thy father's watching the sheep -thy mother's shaking the dreamland tree -and down drops a little dream for thee -sleep, baby, sleep - -sleep, baby, sleep -the large stars are the sheep -the little stars are the lambs, i guess -the bright moon is the shepherdess -sleep, baby, sleep - -sleep, baby, sleep -thy savior loves his sheep -he is the lamb of god on high -who for our sakes came down to die -sleep, baby, sleep - - - -seated one day at the organ -i was weary and ill at ease -and my fingers wandered idly -over the noisy keys - -i do not know what i was playing -or what i was dreaming then -but i struck one chord of music -like the sound of a great amen - -it flooded the crimson twilight -like the close of an angel's psalm -and it lay on my fevered spirit -with a touch of infinite calm - -it quieted pain and sorrow -like love overcoming strife -it seemed the harmonious echo -from our discordant life - -it linked all perplexing meanings -into one perfect peace -and trembled away into silence -as if it were loth to cease - -i have sought, but i seek it vainly -that one lost chord divine -that came from the soul of the organ -and entered into mine - -it may be that death's bright angel -will speak in that chord again -it may be that only in heaven -i shall hear that grand amen - - - -between the dark and the daylight -when the night is beginning to lower -comes a pause in the day's occupations -that is known as the children's hour - -i hear in the chamber above me -the patter of little feet -the sound of a door that is opened -and voices soft and sweet - -from my study i see in the lamplight -descending the broad hall stair -grave alice, and laughing allegra -and edith with golden hair - -a whisper, and then a silence -yet i know by their merry eyes -they are plotting and planning together -to take me by surprise - -a sudden rush from the stairway -a sudden raid from the hall -by three doors left unguarded -they enter my castle wall - -they climb up into my turret -o'er the arms and back of my chair -if i try to escape, they surround me -they seem to be everywhere - -they almost devour me with kisses -their arms about me entwine -till i think of the bishop of bingen -in his mouse-tower on the rhine - -do you think, o blue-eyed banditti -because you have scaled the wall -such an old mustache as i am -is not a match for you all - -i have you fast in my fortress -and will not let you depart -but put you down into the dungeon -in the round-tower of my heart - -and there will i keep you forever -yes, forever and a day -till the walls shall crumble to ruin -and moulder in dust away - - - -woodman, spare that tree -touch not a single bough -in youth it sheltered me -and i'll protect it now -that placed it near his cot -there, woodman, let it stand -thy ax shall harm it not - -that old familiar tree -whose glory and renown -are spread o'er land and sea -and wouldst thou hew it down -woodman, forbear thy stroke -cut not its earth-bound ties -oh, spare that aged oak -now towering to the skies - -when but an idle boy -i sought its grateful shade -in all their gushing joy -here, too, my sisters played -my mother kissed me here -my father pressed my hand -forgive this foolish tear -but let that old oak stand - -my heart-strings round thee cling -close as thy bark, old friend -here shall the wild-bird sing -and still thy branches bend -old tree! the storm still brave -and, woodman, leave the spot -while i've a hand to save -thy ax shall harm it not - - - -they drive home the cows from the pasture -up through the long shady lane -where the quail whistles loud in the wheat-fields -that are yellow with ripening grain -they find, in the thick waving grasses -where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows -they gather the earliest snowdrops -and the first crimson buds of the rose - -they toss the new hay in the meadow -they gather the elder-bloom white -they find where the dusky grapes purple -in the soft-tinted october light -they know where the apples hang ripest -and are sweeter than italy's wines -they know where the fruit hangs the thickest -on the long, thorny blackberry vines - -they gather the delicate sea-weeds -and build tiny castles of sand -they pick up the beautiful sea shells -fairy barks that have drifted to land -they wave from the tall, rocking tree-tops -where the oriole's hammock-nest swings -and at night time are folded in slumber -by a song that a fond mother sings - -those who toil bravely are strongest -the humble and poor become great -and so from these brown-handed children -shall grow mighty rulers of state -the pen of the author and statesman -the noble and wise of the land -the sword, and the chisel, and palette -shall be held in the little brown hand - - - -up from the meadows rich with corn -clear in the cool september morn - -the clustered spires of frederick stand -green-walled by the hills of maryland - -round about them orchards sweep -apple and peach tree fruited deep - -fair as the garden of the lord -to the eyes of the famished rebel horde - -on that pleasant morn of the early fall -when lee marched over the mountain-wall - -over the mountains winding down -horse and foot, into frederick town - -forty flags with their silver stars -forty flags with their crimson bars - -flapped in the morning wind; the sun -of noon looked down, and saw not one - -up rose old barbara frietchie then -bowed with her fourscore years and ten - -bravest of all in frederick town -she took up the flag the men hauled down - -in her attic window the staff she set -to show that one heart was loyal yet - -up the street came the rebel tread -stonewall jackson riding ahead - -under his slouched hat left and right -he glanced; the old flag met his sight - - -it shivered the window, pane and sash -it rent the banner with seam and gash - -quick, as it fell, from the broken staff -dame barbara snatched the silken scarf - -she leaned far out on the window-sill -and shook it forth with a royal will - -but spare your country's flag," she said - -a shade of sadness, a blush of shame -over the face of the leader came - -the nobler nature within him stirred -to life at that woman's deed and word - -dies like a dog; march on!" he said - -all day long through frederick street -sounded the tread of marching feet - -all day long that free flag tost -over the heads of the rebel host - -ever its torn folds rose and fell -on the loyal winds that loved it well - -and through the hill-gaps sunset light -shone over it a warm good night - -barbara frietchie's work is o'er -and the rebel rides on his raids no more - -honor to her! and let a tear -fall, for her sake, on stonewall's bier - -over barbara frietchie's grave -flag of freedom and union wave - -peace and order and beauty draw -round thy symbol of light and law - -and ever the stars above look down -on thy stars below in frederick town - - - -i started on a journey just about a week ago -for the little town of morrow, in the state of ohio -i never was a traveler, and really didn't know -that morrow had been ridiculed a century or so -i went down to the depot for my ticket and applied -for the tips regarding morrow, not expecting to be guyed -said i, "my friend, i want to go to morrow and return -not later than to-morrow, for i haven't time to burn - -said he to me, "now let me see if i have heard you right -you want to go to morrow and come back to-morrow night -you should have gone to morrow yesterday and back to-day -for if you started yesterday to morrow, don't you see -you could have got to morrow and returned to-day at three -the train that started yesterday--now understand me right -to-day it gets to morrow, and returns to-morrow night - -said i, "my boy, it seems to me you're talking through your hat -is there a town named morrow on your line? now tell me that -to go from here to morrow is a fourteen-hour trip -the train that goes to morrow leaves to-day eight-thirty-five -half after ten to-morrow is the time it should arrive -now if from here to morrow is a fourteen-hour jump -can you go to-day to morrow and come back to-day, you chump - -said i, "i want to go to morrow; can i go to-day -and get to morrow by to-night, if there is no delay -can you go anywhere to-morrow and come back from there to-day -for if to-day you'd get to morrow, surely you'll agree -you should have started not to-day, but yesterday, you see -so if you start to morrow, leaving here to-day, you're flat -you won't get to morrow till the day that follows that - -to-morrow into morrow, not to-day, you understand -for the train to-day to morrow, if the schedule is right -will get you into morrow by about to-morrow night -said i, "i guess you know it all, but kindly let me say -how can i go to morrow, if i leave the town to-day -said he, "you cannot go to morrow any more to-day -for the train that goes to morrow is a mile upon its way - - -i was so disappointed i was mad enough to swear -the train had gone to morrow and had left me standing there -the man was right in telling me i was a howling jay -i didn't go to morrow, so i guess i'll go to-day - - -the little cares that fretted me -i lost them yesterday -among the fields above the seas -among the winds at play -among the lowing of the herds -the rustling of the trees -among the singing of the birds -the humming of the bees - -the foolish fears of what might happen -i cast them all away -among the clover-scented grass -among the new-mown hay -among the husking of the corn -where drowsy poppies nod -where ill thoughts die and good are born -out in the fields with god - - - -i know the song that the bluebird is singing -out in the apple tree where he is swinging -brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary -nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery - -hark! how the music leaps out from his throat -hark! was there ever so merry a note -listen a while, and you'll hear what he's saying -up in the apple tree swinging and swaying - -you must be weary of winter i know -listen, i'll sing you a message of cheer -summer is coming! and springtime is here - -bright yellow crocus! please open your eyes -sweet little violets, hid from the cold -put on your mantles of purple and gold -daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear -summer is coming, and springtime is here - - - -old ironsides at anchor lay -in the harbor of mahon -a dead calm rested on the bay -the waves to sleep had gone -when little hal, the captain's son -a lad both brave and good -in sport, up shroud and rigging ran -and on the main truck stood - -a shudder shot through every vein -all eyes were turned on high -there stood the boy, with dizzy brain -between the sea and sky -no hold had he above, below -alone he stood in air -to that far height none dared to go -no aid could reach him there - -we gazed, but not a man could speak -with horror all aghast -in groups, with pallid brow and cheek -we watched the quivering mast -the atmosphere grew thick and hot -and of a lurid hue -as riveted unto the spot -stood officers and crew - -the father came on deck:--he gasped -then suddenly a rifle grasped -and aimed it at his son -jump, or i fire," he said -jump, jump, boy!" he obeyed - -he sunk,--he rose,--he lived,--he moved -and for the ship struck out -on board we hailed the lad beloved -with many a manly shout -his father drew, in silent joy -those wet arms round his neck -and folded to his heart his boy -then fainted on the deck - - - -i shot an arrow into the air -it fell to earth, i knew not where -for, so swiftly it flew, the sight -could not follow it in its flight - -i breathed a song into the air -it fell to earth, i knew not where -for who has sight so keen and strong -that it can follow the flight of song - -long, long afterward, in an oak -i found the arrow, still unbroke -and the song, from beginning to end -i found again in the heart of a friend - - - -the justice, laughing, said, "oh no -i only meant the loads of snow -upon the roofs. the barn is weak -i greatly fear the roof will break -so hand me up the spade, my dear -i'll mount the barn, the roof to clear -and if you slip, and fall, and die -how will my living be secured -stephen, your life is not insured -but tie a rope your waist around -and it will hold you safe and sound -all snugly tied, and danger-proof -excelsior! excel--but no -the rope is not secured below -said rachel, "climb, the end to throw -across the top, and i will go -and tie that end around my waist -you always would be tightly laced -rachel, when you became my bride -i thought the knot securely tied -but lest the bond should break in twain -i'll have it fastened once again -below the arm-pits tied around -she takes her station on the ground -while on the roof, beyond the ridge -he shovels clear the lower edge -but, sad mischance! the loosened snow -comes sliding down, to plunge below -and as he tumbles with the slide -up rachel goes on t'other side -just half-way down the justice hung -just half-way up the woman swung - -the couple, dangling in the breeze -like turkeys hung outside to freeze -at their rope's end and wits' end, too -shout back and forth what best to do -cried stephen, "take it coolly, wife -all have their ups and downs in life -quoth rachel, "what a pity 'tis -to joke at such a thing as this -a man whose wife is being hung -should know enough to hold his tongue -i see a tempting heap of snow -suppose, my dear, i take my knife -and cut the rope to save my life -she shouted, "don't! 'twould be my death -i see some pointed stones beneath -a better way would be to call -with all our might, for phebe hall -gave tongue; "o phebe! phebe! _phe-e-be_ hall!" in tones both fine -and coarse -enough to make a drover hoarse - -now phebe, over at the farm -was sitting, sewing, snug and warm -but hearing, as she thought, her name -sprang up, and to the rescue came -beheld the scene, and thus she thought -and i could reach the lady's foot -i'd draw her downward by the boot -then cut the rope, and let him go -he cannot miss the pile of snow -he sees her moving toward his wife -armed with a chair and carving-knife -and, ere he is aware, perceives -his head ascending to the eaves -and, guessing what the two are at -screams from beneath the roof, "stop that -you make me fall too far, by half -but phebe answers, with a laugh -you've brought your wife to such a plight -and then, with well-directed blows -she cuts the rope and down he goes -the wife untied, they walk around -when lo! no stephen can be found -they call in vain, run to and fro -they look around, above, below -no trace or token can they see -and deeper grows the mystery -then rachel's heart within her sank -but, glancing at the snowy bank -she caught a little gleam of hope -a gentle movement of the rope -they scrape away a little snow -what's this? a hat! ah! he's below -then upward heaves the snowy pile -and forth he stalks in tragic style -unhurt, and with a roguish smile -and rachel sees, with glad surprise -the missing found, the fallen rise - - - -about the time of christmas -when the sky was black -with wrath and rack -and the earth was white with snow -when loudly rang the tumult -of winds and waves of strife -in her home by the sea -with her babe on her knee -sat harry conquest's wife - -and he was on the ocean -although she knew not where -for never a lip -could tell of the ship -to lighten her heart's despair -and her babe was fading and dying -the pulse in the tiny wrist -was all but still -and the brow was chill -and pale as the white sea mist - -jane conquest's heart was hopeless -she could only weep and pray -that the shepherd mild -would take her child -without a pain away -the night was dark and darker -and the storm grew stronger still -and buried in deep -and dreamless sleep -lay the hamlet under the hill - -the fire was dead on the hearthstone -within jane conquest's room -and still sat she -with her babe on her knee -at prayer amid the gloom -when, borne above the tempest -a sound fell on her ear -thrilling her through -for well she knew - -and a light leaped in at the lattice -sudden and swift and red -crimsoning all -the whited wall -and the floor, and the roof o'erhead -for one brief moment, heedless -of the babe upon her knee -with the frenzied start -of a frightened heart -upon her feet rose she - -and through the quaint old casement -she looks upon the sea -thank god that the sight -she saw that night -so rare a sight should be -hemmed in by many a billow -with mad and foaming lip -a mile from shore -or hardly more -she saw a gallant ship - -and to her horror she beheld it -aflame from stem to stern -for there seemed no speck -on all that wreck -where the fierce fire did not burn -till the night was like a sunset -and the sea like a sea of blood -and the rocks and shore -were bathed all o'er -and drenched with the gory flood - -she looked and looked, till the terror -went creeping through every limb -and her breath came quick -and her heart grew sick -and her sight grew dizzy and dim -and her lips had lost their utterance -for she tried but could not speak -and her feelings found -no channel of sound -in prayer, or sob, or shriek - -once more that cry of anguish -thrilled through the tempest's strife -and it stirred again -in heart and brain -the active thinking life -and the light of an inspiration -leaped to her brightened eye -and on lip and brow -was written now -a purpose pure and high - -swiftly she turns, and softly -she crosses the chamber floor -and faltering not -in his tiny cot -she laid the babe she bore -and then with a holy impulse -she sank to her knees, and made -a lowly prayer -in the silence there -and this was the prayer she prayed - -and who now dost wear the crown -i at thy feet -o true and sweet -would lay my burden down -thou bad'st me love and cherish -the babe thou gavest me -and i have kept -thy word, nor stept -aside from following thee - -and vain is all my care -and my burden's weight -is very great -yea, greater than i can bear -o lord, thou know'st what peril -doth threat these poor men's lives -and i, a woman -most weak and human -do plead for their waiting wives - -up, lord, in thy strength, and save -from the scorching breath -of this terrible death -on this cruel winter wave -take thou my babe and watch it -no care is like to thine -and let thy power -in this perilous hour -supply what lack is mine - -and so her prayer she ended -and rising to her feet -gave one long look -at the cradle nook -where the child's faint pulses beat -and then with softest footsteps -retrod the chamber floor -and noiselessly groped -for the latch, and oped -and crossed the cottage door - -and through the tempest bravely -jane conquest fought her way -by snowy deep -and slippery steep -to where her duty lay -and she journeyed onward, breathless -and weary and sore and faint -yet forward pressed -with the strength, and the zest -and the ardor of a saint - -solemn, and weird, and lonely -amid its countless graves -stood the old gray church -on its tall rock perch -secure from the sea and its waves -and beneath its sacred shadow -lay the hamlet safe and still -for however the sea -and the wind might be -there was quiet under the hill - -jane conquest reached the churchyard -and stood by the old church door -but the oak was tough -and had bolts enough -and her strength was frail and poor -so she crept through a narrow window -and climbed the belfry stair -and grasped the rope -sole cord of hope -for the mariners in despair - -and the wild wind helped her bravely -and she wrought with an earnest will -and the clamorous bell -spoke out right well -to the hamlet under the hill -and it roused the slumbering fishers -nor its warning task gave o'er -till a hundred fleet -and eager feet -were hurrying to the shore - -and then it ceased its ringing -for the woman's work was done -and many a boat -that was now afloat -showed man's work had begun -but the ringer in the belfry -lay motionless and cold -with the cord of hope -the church-bell rope -still in her frozen hold - -how long she lay it boots not -but she woke from her swoon at last -in her own bright room -to find the gloom -and the grief, and the peril past -with the sense of joy within her -and the christ's sweet presence near -and friends around -and the cooing sound -of her babe's voice in her ear - -and they told her all the story -how a brave and gallant few -o'ercame each check -and reached the wreck -and saved the hopeless crew -and how the curious sexton -had climbed the belfry stair -and of his fright -when, cold and white -he found her lying there - -and how, when they had borne her -back to her home again -the child she left -with a heart bereft -of hope, and weary with pain -was found within his cradle -in a quiet slumber laid -with a peaceful smile -on his lips the while -and the wasting sickness stayed - -and she said "twas the christ who watched it -and brought it safely through -and she praised his truth -and his tender ruth -who had saved her darling too - - -to drum beat and heart beat -a soldier marches by -there is color in his cheek -there is courage in his eye -yet to drum beat and heart beat -in a moment he must die - -by starlight and moonlight -he seeks the britons' camp -he hears the rustling flag -and the armed sentry's tramp -and the starlight and moonlight -his silent wanderings lamp - -with a slow tread and still tread -he scans the tented line -and he counts the battery guns -by the gaunt and shadowy pine -and his slow tread and still tread -gives no warning sign - -the dark wave, the plumed wave -it meets his eager glance -and it sparkles 'neath the stars -like the glimmer of a lance -a dark wave, a plumed wave -on an emerald expanse - -a sharp clang, a steel clang -and terror in the sound -for the sentry, falcon-eyed -in the camp a spy has found -with a sharp clang, a steel clang -the patriot is bound - -with calm brow, steady brow -he listens to his doom -in his look there is no fear -nor a shadow trace of gloom -but with calm brow, steady brow -he robes him for the tomb - -in the long night, the still night -he kneels upon the sod -and the brutal guards withhold -e'en the solemn word of god -in the long night, the still night -he walks where christ hath trod - -he dies upon the tree -and he mourns that he can give -but one life for liberty -and in the blue morn, the sunny morn -his spent wings are free - -but his last words, his message words -they burn, lest friendly eye -should read how proud and calm -a patriot could die -with his last words, his dying words -a soldier's battle cry - -from fame-leaf and angel-leaf -from monument and urn -the sad of earth, the glad of heaven -his tragic fate shall learn -and on fame-leaf and angel-leaf -the name of hale shall burn - - - -you are coming to woo me, but not as of yore -when i hastened to welcome your ring at the door -for i trusted that he who stood waiting me then -was the brightest, the truest, the noblest of men -your lips on my own when they printed "farewell -had never been soiled by "the beverage of hell -but they come to me now with the bacchanal sign -and the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine - -i think of that night in the garden alone -when in whispers you told me your heart was my own -that your love in the future should faithfully be -unshared by another, kept only for me -oh, sweet to my soul is the memory still -of the lips which met mine, when they murmured "i will -but now to their pressure no more they incline -for the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine - -o john! how it crushed me, when first in your face -the pen of the "rum fiend" had written "disgrace -and turned me in silence and tears from that breath -all poisoned and foul from the chalice of death -it scattered the hopes i had treasured to last -it darkened the future and clouded the past -it shattered my idol, and ruined the shrine -for the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine - -i loved you--oh, dearer than language can tell -and you saw it, you proved it, you knew it too well -but the man of my love was far other than he -who now from the "tap-room" comes reeling to me -in manhood and honor so noble and right -his heart was so true, and his genius so bright -and his soul was unstained, unpolluted by wine -but the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine - -you promised reform, but i trusted in vain -your pledge was but made to be broken again -and the lover so false to his promises now -will not, as a husband, be true to his vow -the word must be spoken that bids you depart -though the effort to speak it should shatter my heart -though in silence, with blighted affection, i pine -yet the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine - -if one spark in your bosom of virtue remain -go fan it with prayer till it kindle again -resolved, with "god helping," in future to be -from wine and its follies unshackled and free -and when you have conquered this foe of your soul -in manhood and honor beyond his control -this heart will again beat responsive to thine -and the lips free from liquor be welcome to mine - - - -when you come to the end of a perfect day -and you sit alone with your thought -while the chimes ring out with a carol gay -for the joy that the day has brought -do you think what the end of a perfect day -can mean to a tired heart -when the sun goes down with a flaming ray -and the dear friends have to part - -well, this is the end of a perfect day -near the end of a journey, too -but it leaves a thought that is big and strong -with a wish that is kind and true -for mem'ry has painted this perfect day -with colors that never fade -and we find, at the end of a perfect day -the soul of a friend we've made - - - -kate ketchem on a winter's night -went to a party dressed in white -her chignon in a net of gold -was about as large as they ever sold -gayly she went, because her "pap -was supposed to be a rich old chap - -but when by chance her glances fell -on a friend who had lately married well -her spirits sunk, and a vague unrest -and a nameless longing filled her breast -a wish she wouldn't have had made known -to have an establishment of her own - -tom fudge came slowly through the throng -with chestnut hair, worn pretty long -he saw kate ketchem in the crowd -and knowing her slightly, stopped and bowed -then asked her to give him a single flower -saying he'd think it a priceless dower - -out from those with which she was decked -she took the poorest she could select -and blushed as she gave it, looking down -to call attention to her gown -flowers must be at that time of year - -then several charming remarks he made -asked if she sang, or danced, or played -and being exhausted, inquired whether -she thought it was going to be pleasant weather -and kate displayed her "jewelry -and dropped her lashes becomingly -and listened, with no attempt to disguise -the admiration in her eyes -at last, like one who has nothing to say -he turned around and walked away - -kate ketchem smiled, and said, "you bet -i'll catch that fudge and his money yet -he's rich enough to keep me in clothes -and i think i could manage him as i chose -he could aid my father as well as not -and buy my brother a splendid yacht -my mother for money should never fret -and all it cried for the baby should get -and after that, with what he could spare -i'd make a show at a charity fair - -tom fudge looked back as he crossed the sill -and saw kate ketchem standing still -it isn't an easy thing to find -and every thing that she has to wear -proves her as rich as she is fair -would she were mine, and i to-day -had the old man's cash my debts to pay -no creditors with a long account -no tradesmen wanting 'that little amount -but all my scores paid up when due -by a father-in-law as rich as a jew - -but he thought of her brother, not worth a straw -and her mother, that would be his, in law -so, undecided, he walked along -and kate was left alone in the throng -but a lawyer smiled, whom he sought by stealth -to ascertain old ketchem's wealth -and as for kate, she schemed and planned -till one of the dancers claimed her hand - -he married her for her father's cash -she married him to cut a dash -but as to paying his debts, do you know -the father couldn't see it so -and at hints for help, kate's hazel eyes -looked out in their innocent surprise -and when tom thought of the way he had wed -he longed for a single life instead -and closed his eyes in a sulky mood -regretting the days of his bachelorhood -and said, in a sort of reckless vein -if i were free, as on that night -when i saw kate ketchem dressed in white - -she wedded him to be rich and gay -but husband and children didn't pay -he wasn't the prize she hoped to draw -and wouldn't live with his mother-in-law -and oft when she had to coax and pout -in order to get him to take her out -she thought how very attentive and bright -he seemed at the party that winter's night -of his laugh, as soft as a breeze of the south -how he praised her dress and gems in his talk -as he took a careful account of stock - -sometimes she hated the very walls -hated her friends, her dinners, and calls -till her weak affection, to hatred turned -like a dying tallow-candle burned -and for him who sat there, her peace to mar -smoking his everlasting cigar -he wasn't the man she thought she saw -and grief was duty, and hate was law -so she took up her burden with a groan -saying only, "i might have known - -alas for kate! and alas for fudge -though i do not owe them any grudge -and alas for any who find to their shame -that two can play at their little game -for of all hard things to bear and grin -the hardest is knowing you're taken in -ah, well! as a general thing, we fret -about the one we didn't get -but i think we needn't make a fuss -if the one we don't want didn't get us - - - -by the old moulmein pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea -there's a burma girl a-settin', an' i know she thinks o' me -for the wind is in the palm-trees, an' the temple-bells they say -come you back to mandalay -where the old flotilla lay -can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from rangoon to mandalay -on the road to mandalay -where the flyin'-fishes play -an' the dawn comes up like thunder outer china 'crost the bay - -an' 'er name was supi-yaw-lat--jes' the same as theebaw's queen -an' i seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot -an' a-wastin' christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot -bloomin' idol made o' mud -wot they called the great gawd budd -plucky lot she cared for idols when i kissed 'er where she stud -on the road to mandalay - -when the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' low -she'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "_kul-la-lo-lo -with 'er arm upon my shoulder an' her cheek agin my cheek -we useter watch the steamers and the _hathis_ pilin' teak -elephints a-pilin' teak -in the sludgy, squdgy creek -where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was arf afraid to speak -on the road to mandalay - -but that's all shove be'ind me--long ago an' fur away -an' there ain't no 'buses runnin' from the benk to mandalay -an' i'm learnin' 'ere in london what the ten-year sodger tells -no! you won't 'eed nothin' else -but them spicy garlic smells -an' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells -on the road to mandalay - -i am sick o' wastin' leather on these gutty pavin'-stones -an' the blasted henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones -tho' i walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer chelsea to the strand -an' they talk a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand -beefy face an' grubby 'and -law! wot _do_ they understand -i've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land -on the road to mandalay - -ship me somewheres east of suez where the best is like the worst -where there aren't no ten commandments, an' a man can raise a thirst -for the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that i would be -by the old moulmein pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea -on the road to mandalay -where the old flotilla lay -with our sick beneath the awnings when we went to mandalay -on the road to mandalay -where the flyin'-fishes play -an' the dawn comes up like thunder outer china 'crost the bay - - - -behind him lay the gray azores -behind the gates of hercules -before him not the ghost of shores -before him only shoreless seas -the good mate said: "now must we pray -for lo! the very stars are gone -brave adm'r'l, speak; what shall i say - -my men grow ghastly wan and weak -the stout mate thought of home; a spray -of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek -if we sight naught but seas at dawn - -they sailed and sailed, as winds might blow -until at last the blanched mate said -should i and all my men fall dead -these very winds forget their way -for god from these dread seas is gone -now speak, brave adm'r'l, speak and say -he said: "sail on! sail on! and on - -they sailed. they sailed. then spake the mate -he curls his lips, he lies in wait -with lifted teeth, as if to bite -brave adm'r'l, say but one good word -what shall we do when hope is gone -the words leapt like a leaping sword - -then, pale and worn, he kept his deck -and peered through darkness. ah, that night -of all dark nights! and then a speck -a light! a light! a light! a light -it grew, a starlit flag unfurled -it grew to be time's burst of dawn -he gained a world; he gave that world -its grandest lesson; "on! sail on - - - -my sister's best feller is 'most six-foot-three -and handsome and strong as a feller can be -and sis, she's so little, and slender, and small -you never would think she could boss him at all -but, my jing -she don't do a thing -but make him jump 'round, like he worked with a string -it jest made me 'shamed of him sometimes, you know -to think that he'll let a girl bully him so - -he goes to walk with her and carries her muff -and coat and umbrella, and that kind of stuff -she loads him with things that must weigh 'most a ton -and, honest, he _likes_ it,--as if it was fun -and, oh, say -when they go to a play -he'll sit in the parlor and fidget away -and she won't come down till it's quarter past eight -and then she'll scold _him_ 'cause they get there so late - -he spends heaps of money a-buyin' her things -like candy, and flowers, and presents, and rings -and all he's got for 'em's a handkerchief case -a fussed-up concern, made of ribbons and lace -but, my land! he thinks it's just grand -he calls her "an angel"--i heard him--and "saint -and "beautif'lest bein' on earth"--but she ain't - -i just make her coax me, and give me a dime -but that great big silly--why, honest and true -he'd run forty miles if she wanted him to -oh, gee whiz -i tell you what 'tis -i jest think it's _awful_--those actions of his -i won't fall in love, when i'm grown--no sir-ee -my sister's best feller's a warnin' to me - - - -out where the handclasp's a little stronger -out where a smile dwells a little longer -that's where the west begins -out where the sun's a little brighter -where the snow that falls is a trifle whiter -where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter -that's where the west begins - -out where the skies are a trifle bluer -out where friendship's a little truer -that's where the west begins -out where a fresher breeze is blowing -where there is laughter in every streamlet flowing -where there's more of reaping and less of sowing -that's where the west begins - -out where the world is in the making -where fewer hearts with despair are aching -that's where the west begins -where there is more of singing and less of sighing -where there is more of giving and less of buying -and a man makes friends without half trying -that's where the west begins - - - -let us take to our hearts a lesson--no lesson can braver be -from the ways of the tapestry weavers on the other side of the sea -above their heads the pattern hangs, they study it with care -the while their fingers deftly move, their eyes are fastened there - -they tell this curious thing, besides, of the patient, plodding weaver -he works on the wrong side evermore, but works for the right side ever -it is only when the weaving stops, and the web is loosed and turned -that he sees his real handiwork--that his marvelous skill is learned - -ah, the sight of its delicate beauty, how it pays him for all his cost -no rarer, daintier work than his was ever done by the frost -then the master bringeth him golden hire, and giveth him praise as well -and how happy the heart of the weaver is, no tongue but his can tell - -the years of man are the looms of god, let down from the place of the sun -wherein we are weaving ever, till the mystic web is done -weaving blindly but weaving surely each for himself his fate -we may not see how the right side looks, we can only weave and wait - -but, looking above for the pattern, no weaver hath to fear -only let him look clear into heaven, the perfect pattern is there -if he keeps the face of the savior forever and always in sight -his toil shall be sweeter than honey, his weaving sure to be right - -and when the work is ended, and the web is turned and shown -he shall hear the voice of the master, it shall say unto him, "well done -and the white-winged angels of heaven, to bear him shall come down -and god shall give him gold for his hire--not a coin--but a glowing crown - - -when the teacher gets cross, and her blue eyes gets black -and the pencil comes down on the desk with a whack -we chillen all sit up straight in a line -as if we had rulers instead of a spine -and it's scary to cough, and it a'n't safe to grin -when the teacher gets cross, and the dimples goes in - -when the teacher gets cross, the tables get mixed -the ones and the twos begins to play tricks -the pluses and minuses is just little smears -when the cry babies cry their slates full of tears -and the figgers won't add,--but just act up like sin -when the teacher gets cross, and the dimples goes in - -when the teacher gets cross, the reading gets bad -the lines jingle round till the' chillen is sad -and billy boy puffs and gets red in the face -as if he and the lesson were running a race -until she hollers out, "next!" as sharp as a pin -when the teacher gets cross, and the dimples goes in - -when the teacher gets good, her smile is so bright -that the tables gets straight, and the reading gets right -the pluses and minuses comes trooping along -and the figgers add up and stop being wrong -and we chillen would like, but we dassent, to shout -when the teacher gets good, and the dimples comes out - - -god of our fathers, known of old -lord of our far-flung battle line -beneath whose awful hand we hold -dominion over palm and pine -lord god of hosts, be with us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -the tumult and the shouting dies -the captains and the kings depart -still stands thine ancient sacrifice -an humble and a contrite heart -lord god of hosts, be with us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -far-called, our navies melt away -on dune and headland sinks the fire -lo, all our pomp of yesterday -is one with nineveh and tyre -judge of the nations, spare us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -if, drunk with sight of power, we loose -wild tongues that have not thee in awe -such boasting as the gentiles use -or lesser breeds without the law -lord god of hosts, be with us yet -lest we forget--lest we forget - -for heathen heart that puts her trust -in reeking tube and iron shard -all valiant dust that builds on dust -and guarding, calls not thee to guard -for frantic boast and foolish word -thy mercy on thy people, lord - - - - -o friends! with whom my feet have trod -the quiet aisles of prayer -glad witness to your zeal for god -and love of man i bear - -i trace your lines of argument -your logic linked and strong -i weigh as one who dreads dissent -and fears a doubt as wrong - -but still my human hands are weak -to hold your iron creeds -against the words ye bid me speak -my heart within me pleads - -who fathoms the eternal thought -who talks of scheme and plan -the lord is god! he needeth not -the poor device of man - -i walk with bare, hushed feet the ground -ye tread with boldness shod -i dare not fix with mete and bound -the love and power of god - -ye praise his justice; even such -his pitying love i deem -ye seek a king; i fain would touch -the robe that hath no seam - -ye see the curse which overbroods -a world of pain and loss -i hear our lord's beatitudes -and prayer upon the cross - -more than your schoolmen teach, within -myself, alas! i know -too dark ye cannot paint the sin -too small the merit show - -i bow my forehead to the dust -i veil mine eyes for shame -and urge, in trembling self-distrust -a prayer without a claim - -i see the wrong that round me lies -i feel the guilt within -i hear, with groan and travail-cries -the world confess its sin - -yet, in the maddening maze of things -and tossed by storm and flood -to one fixed stake my spirit clings -i know that god is good - -not mine to look where cherubim -and seraphs may not see -but nothing can be good in him -which evil is in me - -the wrong that pains my soul below -i dare not throne above -i know not of his hate,--i know -his goodness and his love - -i dimly guess from blessings known -of greater out of sight -and, with the chastened psalmist, own -his judgments too are right - -i long for household voices gone -for vanished smiles i long -but god hath led my dear ones on -and he can do no wrong - -i know not what the future hath -of marvel or surprise -assured alone that life and death -his mercy underlies - -and if my heart and flesh are weak -to bear an untried pain -the bruised reed he will not break -but strengthen and sustain - -no offering of my own i have -nor works my faith to prove -i can but give the gifts he gave -and plead his love for love - -and so beside the silent sea -i wait the muffled oar -no harm from him can come to me -on ocean or on shore - -i know not where his islands lift -their fronded palms in air -i only know i cannot drift -beyond his love and care - -o brothers! if my faith is vain -if hopes like these betray -pray for me that my feet may gain -the sure and safer way - -and thou, o lord! by whom are seen -thy creatures as they be -forgive me if too close i lean -my human heart on thee - - - -out of the clover and blue-eyed grass -he turned them into the river-lane -one after another he let them pass -then fastened the meadow-bars again - -under the willows and over the hill -he patiently followed their sober pace -the merry whistle for once was still -and something shadowed the sunny face - -only a boy! and his father had said -he never could let his youngest go -two already were lying dead -under the feet of the trampling foe - -but after the evening work was done -and the frogs were loud in the meadow swamp -over his shoulder he slung his gun -and stealthily followed the footpath damp - -across the clover and through the wheat -with resolute heart and purpose grim -though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet -and the blind bat's flitting startled him - -thrice since then had the lanes been white -and the orchards sweet with apple bloom -and now, when the cows came back at night -the feeble father drove them home - -for news had come to the lonely farm -that three were lying where two had lain -and the old man's tremulous, palsied arm -could never lean on a son's again - -the summer day grew cool and late -he went for the cows when the work was done -but down the lane, as he opened the gate -he saw them coming, one by one - -brindle, ebony, speckle, and bess -shaking their horns in the evening wind -cropping the buttercups out of the grass -but who was it following close behind - -loosely swung in the idle air -the empty sleeve of army blue -and worn and pale, from the crisping hair -looked out a face that the father knew - -for southern prisons will sometimes yawn -and yield their dead unto life again -and the day that comes with a cloudy dawn -in golden glory at last may wane - -the great tears sprang to their meeting eyes -for the heart must speak when the lips are dumb -and under the silent evening skies -together they followed the cattle home - - - -your flag and my flag -and, oh, how much it holds -your land and my land -secure within its folds -your heart and my heart -beat quicker at the sight -sun-kissed and wind-tossed -red and blue and white -the one flag--the great flag--the flag for me and you -glorified all else beside--the red and white and blue - -your flag and my flag -to every star and stripe -the drums beat as hearts beat -and fifers shrilly pipe -your flag and my flag -a blessing in the sky -your hope and my hope -it never hid a lie -home land and far land and half the world around -old glory hears our glad salute and ripples to the sound - - - -oh! they've swept the parlor carpet, and they've dusted every chair -and they've got the tidies hangin' jest exactly on the square -and the what-not's fixed up lovely, and the mats have all been beat -and the pantry's brimmin' over with the bully things ter eat -sis has got her sunday dress on, and she's frizzin' up her bangs -ma's got on her best alpacky, and she's askin' how it hangs -and it's all because we're goin' ter have the minister ter tea -oh! the table's fixed up gaudy, with the gilt-edged chiny set -and we'll use the silver tea-pot and the comp'ny spoons, you bet -and we're goin' ter have some fruitcake and some thimbleberry jam -and "riz biscuits," and some doughnuts, and some chicken, and some ham -ma, she'll 'polergize like fury and say everything is bad -and "sich awful luck with cookin'," she is sure she never had -but, er course, she's only bluffin,' for it's as prime as it can be -and she's only talkin' that way 'cause the minister's ter tea -everybody'll be a-smilin' and as good as ever was -pa won't growl about the vittles, like he generally does -and he'll ask me would i like another piece er pie; but, sho -that, er course, is only manners, and i'm s'posed ter answer "no -sis'll talk about the church-work and about the sunday-school -ma'll tell how she liked that sermon that was on the golden rule -and if i upset my tumbler they won't say a word ter me -yes, a boy can eat in comfort with the minister ter tea -say! a minister, you'd reckon, never'd say what wasn't true -but that isn't so with ours, and i jest can prove it, too -why, he sets and says it's lovely; and that, seems ter me,'s a lie -but i like him all the samey, and i only wish he'd stay -at our house fer good and always, and eat with us every day -only think of havin' goodies _every_ evenin'! jimmin_ee -and i'd _never_ git a scoldin' with the minister ter tea - - - -when klingle, klangle, klingle -far down the dusty dingle -the cows are coming home - -now sweet and clear, now faint and low -the airy tinklings come and go -like chimings from the far-off tower -or patterings of an april shower -that makes the daisies grow -ko-ling, ko-lang, kolinglelingle -far down the darkening dingle -the cows come slowly home - -and old-time friends, and twilight plays -and starry nights and sunny days -come trooping up the misty ways -when the cows come home -with jingle, jangle, jingle -soft tones that sweetly mingle -the cows are coming home - -malvine, and pearl, and florimel -dekamp, red rose, and gretchen schell -queen bess and sylph, and spangled sue -across the fields i hear her "loo-oo -and clang her silver bell -go-ling, go-lang, golingledingle -with faint, far sounds that mingle -the cows come slowly home - -and mother-songs of long-gone years -and baby-joys and childish fears -and youthful hopes and youthful tears -when the cows come home -with ringle, rangle, ringle -by twos and threes and single -the cows are coming home - -through violet air we see the town -and the summer sun a-sliding down -and the maple in the hazel glade -throws down the path a longer shade -and the hills are growing brown -to-ring, to-rang, toringleringle -by threes and fours and single -the cows come slowly home - -the same sweet sound of wordless psalm -the same sweet june-day rest and calm -the same sweet smell of buds and balm -when the cows come home -with tinkle, tankle, tinkle -through fern and periwinkle -the cows are coming home - -a-loitering in the checkered stream -where the sun-rays glance and gleam -clarine, peach-bloom and phebe phillis -stand knee-deep in the creamy lilies -in a drowsy dream -to-link, to-lank, tolinklelinkle -o'er banks with buttercups a-twinkle -the cows come slowly home - -and up through memory's deep ravine -come the brook's old song and its old-time sheen -and the crescent of the silver queen -when the cows come home -with klingle, klangle, klingle -with loo-oo, and moo-oo and jingle -the cows are coming home - -and over there on merlin hill -sounds the plaintive cry of the whip-poor-will -and the dew-drops lie on the tangled vines -and over the poplars venus shines -and over the silent mill -ko-ling, ko-lang, kolinglelingle -with ting-a-ling and jingle -the cows come slowly home - -let down the bars; let in the train -of long-gone songs, and flowers, and rain -for dear old times come back again -when the cows come home - - - -dead! is it possible? he, the bold rider -custer, our hero, the first in the fight -charming the bullets of yore to fly wider -shunning our battle-king's ringlets of light -dead! our young chieftain, and dead all forsaken -no one to tell us the way of his fall -slain in the desert, and never to waken -never, not even to victory's call - -comrades, he's gone! but ye need not be grieving -no, may my death be like his when i die -no regrets wasted on words i am leaving -falling with brave men, and face to the sky -death's but a journey, the greatest must take it -fame is eternal, and better than all -gold though the bowl be, 'tis fate that must break it -glory can hallow the fragments that fall - -proud for his fame that last day that he met them -all the night long he had been on their track -scorning their traps and the men that had set them -wild for a charge that should never give back -there, on the hilltop he halted and saw them -lodges all loosened and ready to fly -hurrying scouts with the tidings to awe them -told of his coming before he was nigh - -all the wide valley was full of their forces -gathered to cover the lodges' retreat -warriors running in haste to their horses -thousands of enemies close to his feet -down in the valleys the ages had hollowed -there lay the sitting bull's camp for a prey -numbers! what recked he? what recked those who followed -men who had fought ten to one ere that day - -out swept the squadrons, the fated three hundred -into the battle-line steady and full -then down the hillside exultingly thundered -into the hordes of the old sitting bull -wild ogalallah, arapahoe, cheyenne -wild horse's braves, and the rest of their crew -shrank from that charge like a herd from a lion -then closed around the great hell of wild sioux - -right to their center he charged, and then, facing -hark to those yells and around them, oh, see -over the hilltops the devils come racing -coming as fast as the waves of the sea -red was the circle of fire about them -no hope of victory, no ray of light -shot through that terrible black cloud about them -brooding in death over custer's last fight - -then did he blench? did he die like a craven -begging those torturing fiends for his life -was there a soldier who carried the seven -flinched like a coward or fled from the strife -no, by the blood of our custer, no quailing -there in the midst of the devils they close -hemmed in by thousands, but ever assailing -fighting like tigers, all bayed amid foes - -thicker and thicker the bullets came singing -down go the horses and riders and all -swiftly the warriors round them were ringing -circling like buzzards awaiting their fall -see the wild steeds of the mountain and prairie -savage eyes gleaming from forests of mane -quivering lances with pennons so airy -war-painted warriors charging amain - -backward again and again they were driven -shrinking to close with the lost little band -never a cap that had worn the bright seven -bowed till its wearer was dead on the strand -closer and closer the death-circle growing -even the leader's voice, clarion clear -rang out his words of encouragement glowing - -dearly they sold them, like berserkers raging -facing the death that encircled them round -death's bitter pangs by their vengeance assuaging -marking their tracks by their dead on the ground -comrades, our children shall yet tell their story -custer's last charge on the old sitting bull -and ages shall swear that the cup of his glory -needed but that death to render it full - - - -what's the matter, stummick? ain't i always been your friend -ain't i always been a pardner to you? all my pennies don't i spend -in getting nice things for you? don't i give you lots of cake -say, stummick, what's the matter, you had to go an' ache - -why, i loaded you with good things yesterday -i gave you more corn an' chicken than you'd ever had before -i gave you fruit an' candy, apple pie an' chocolate cake -an' last night when i got to bed you had to go an' ache - -say, what's the matter with you? ain't you satisfied at all -i gave you all you wanted; you was hard jes' like a ball -an' you couldn't hold another bit of puddin'; yet last night -you ached most awful, stummick! that ain't treatin' me jest right - -i've been a friend to you, i have! why ain't you a friend o' mine -they gave me castor oil becoz you made me whine -i'm feelin' fine this mornin'; yes it's true -but i tell you, stummick, you better appreciate things i do for you - - -in the sunshine bright and strong -for this world is fading, pompey -massa won't be with you long -and i fain would hear the south wind -bring once more the sound to me -of the wavelets softly breaking -on the shores of tennessee - -as they still the story tell -how no vessels float the banner -that i've loved so long and well -i shall listen to their music -dreaming that again i see -stars and stripes on sloop and shallop -sailing up the tennessee - -for death's last dispatch to come -if that exiled starry banner -should come proudly sailing home -you shall greet it, slave no longer -voice and hand shall both be free -that shout and point to union colors -on the waves of tennessee - -but old darkey's happy here -where he's tended corn and cotton -for dese many a long-gone year -ober yonder, missis' sleeping -no one tends her grave like me -mebbe she would miss the flowers -she used to love in tennessee - -if pompey should beside him stay -mebbe she'd remember better -how for him she used to pray -telling him that way up yonder -white as snow his soul would be -if he served the lord of heaven -while he lived in tennessee - -silently the tears were rolling -down the poor old dusky face -as he stepped behind his master -in his long-accustomed place -then a silence fell around them -as they gazed on rock and tree -pictured in the placid waters -of the rolling tennessee - -master, dreaming of the battle -where he fought by marion's side -where he bid the haughty tarleton -stoop his lordly crest of pride -man, remembering how yon sleeper -once he held upon his knee -ere she loved the gallant soldier -ralph vervair of tennessee - -still the south wind fondly lingers -still the bondman, close beside him -stands behind the old arm-chair -with his dark-hued hand uplifted -shading eyes, he bends to see -where the woodland, boldly jutting -turns aside the tennessee - -thus he watches cloud-born shadows -glide from tree to mountain-crest -softly creeping, aye and ever -to the river's yielding breast -ha! above the foliage yonder -something flutters wild and free -the flag's come back to tennessee - -help me stand on foot once more -that i may salute the colors -as they pass my cabin door -here's the paper signed that frees you -give a freeman's shout with me -evermore in tennessee - -then the trembling voice grew fainter -and the limbs refused to stand -one prayer to jesus--and the soldier -glided to the better land -when the flag went down the river -man and master both were free -while the ring-dove's note was mingled -with the rippling tennessee - - - -it was a hundred years ago -when, by the woodland ways -the traveler saw the wild deer drink -or crop the birchen sprays - -beneath a hill, whose rocky side -o'er-browed a grassy mead -and fenced a cottage from the wind -a deer was wont to feed - -she only came when on the cliffs -the evening moonlight lay -and no man knew the secret haunts -in which she walked by day - -white were her feet, her forehead showed -a spot of silvery white -that seemed to glimmer like a star -in autumn's hazy night - -and here, when sang the whippoorwill -she cropped the sprouting leaves -and here her rustling steps were heard -on still october eves - -but when the broad midsummer moon -rose o'er the grassy lawn -beside the silver-footed deer -there grazed a spotted fawn - -the cottage dame forbade her son -to aim the rifle here -or fright that friendly deer - -ten peaceful years and more -and ever, when the moonlight shines -she feeds before our door - -a thousand moons ago -they never raise the war whoop here -and never twang the bow - -and think that all is well -while such a gentle creature haunts -the place in which we dwell - -the youth obeyed, and sought for game -in forests far away -where, deep in silence and in moss -the ancient woodland lay - -but once, in autumn's golden time -he ranged the wild in vain -nor roused the pheasant nor the deer -and wandered home again - -the crescent moon and crimson eve -shone with a mingling light -the deer, upon the grassy mead -was feeding full in sight - -he raised the rifle to his eye -and from the cliffs around -a sudden echo, shrill and sharp -gave back its deadly sound - -away, into the neighboring wood -the startled creature flew -and crimson drops at morning lay -amid the glimmering dew - -next evening shone the waxing moon -as sweetly as before -the deer upon the grassy mead -was seen again no more - -but ere that crescent moon was old -by night the red men came -and burnt the cottage to the ground -and slew the youth and dame - -now woods have overgrown the mead -and hid the cliffs from sight -there shrieks the hovering hawk at noon -and prowls the fox at night - - - -where potomac's stream is flowing -virginia's border through -where the white-sailed ships are going -sailing to the ocean blue - -hushed the sound of mirth and singing -silent every one -while the solemn bells are ringing -by the tomb of washington - -tolling and knelling -with a sad, sweet sound -o'er the waves the tones are swelling -by mount vernon's sacred ground - -long ago the warrior slumbered -our country's father slept -long among the angels numbered -they the hero soul have kept - -but the children's children love him -and his name revere -so where willows wave above him -sweetly still his knell you hear - -sail, oh ships, across the billows -and bear the story far -how he sleeps beneath the willows - -tell while sweet adieus are swelling -till you come again -he within the hearts is dwelling -of his loving countrymen - - - -heaven is not reached at a single bound -but we build the ladder by which we rise -from the lowly earth to the vaulted skies -and we mount to the summit round by round - -i count this thing to be grandly true -that a noble deed is a step toward god -lifting a soul from the common sod -to a purer air and a broader view - -we rise by things that are under our feet -by what we have mastered of good and gain -by the pride deposed and the passion slain -and the vanquished ills that we hourly meet - -we hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust -when the morning calls us to life and light -but our hearts grow weary, and ere he night -our lives are trailing the sordid dust - -we hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray -and we think that we mount the air on wings -beyond the recall of sensual things -while our feet still cling to the heavy clay - -only in dreams is a ladder thrown -from the weary earth to the sapphire walls -but the dreams depart, and the vision falls -and the sleeper awakes on his pillow of stone - -heaven is not reached at a single bound -but we build the ladder by which we rise -from the lowly earth to the vaulted skies -and we mount to the summit round by round - - - -mr. finney had a turnip -and it grew behind the barn -it grew there, and it grew there -and the turnip did no harm - -it grew and it grew -till it could get no taller -mr. finney pulled it up -and put it in his cellar - -it lay there and it lay there -till it began to rot -his daughter sallie took it up -and put it in the pot - -she boiled it, and she boiled it -as long as she was able -his daughter peggy fished it out -and put it on the table - -mr. finney and his wife -they sat down to sup -and they ate, and they ate -until they ate the turnip up - - -under a spreading chestnut tree -the village smithy stands -the smith, a mighty man is he -with large and sinewy hands -and the muscles of his brawny arms -are strong as iron bands - -his hair is crisp, and black and long -his face is like the tan -his brow is wet with honest sweat -he earns whate'er he can -and looks the whole world in the face -for he owes not any man - -week in, week out, from morn till night -you can hear his bellows blow -you can hear him swing his heavy sledge -with measured beat and slow -like a sexton ringing the village bell -when the evening sun is low - -and children coming home from school -look in at the open door -they love to see the flaming forge -and hear the bellows roar -and catch the burning sparks that fly -like chaff from a threshing floor - -he goes on sunday to the church -and sits among his boys -he hears the parson pray and preach -he hears his daughter's voice -singing in the village choir -and it makes his heart rejoice - -it sounds to him like her mother's voice -singing in paradise -he needs must think of her once more -how in the grave she lies -and with his hard, rough hand he wipes -a tear out of his eyes - -toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing -onward through life he goes -each morning sees some task begun -each evening sees it close -something attempted, something done -has earned a night's repose - -thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend -for the lesson thou hast taught -thus at the flaming forge of life -our fortunes must be wrought -thus on its sounding anvil shaped -each burning deed and thought - - - - -every one of you won the war -you and you and you -each one knowing what it was for -and what was his job to do - -every one of you won the war -obedient, unwearied, unknown -dung in the trenches, drift on the shore -dust to the world's end blown -every one of you, steady and true -you and you and you -down in the pit or up in the blue -whether you crawled or sailed or flew -whether your closest comrade knew -or you bore the brunt alone - -all of you, all of you, name after name -jones and robinson, smith and brown -you from the piping prairie town -you from the fundy fogs that came -you from the city's roaring blocks -you from the bleak new england rocks -with the shingled roof in the apple boughs -you from the brown adobe house -you from the rockies, you from the coast -you from the burning frontier-post -and you from the klondyke's frozen flanks -you from the cedar-swamps, you from the pine -you from the cotton and you from the vine -you from the rice and the sugar-brakes -you from the rivers and you from the lakes -you from the creeks and you from the licks -and you from the brown bayou -you and you and you -you from the pulpit, you from the mine -you from the factories, you from the banks -closer and closer, ranks on ranks -airplanes and cannon, and rifles and tanks -smith and robinson, brown and jones -ruddy faces or bleaching bones -after the turmoil and blood and pain -swinging home to the folks again -or sleeping alone in the fine french rain -every one of you won the war - -every one of you won the war -you and you and you -pressing and pouring forth, more and more -toiling and straining from shore to shore -to reach the flaming edge of the dark -where man in his millions went up like a spark -you, in your thousands and millions coming -all the sea ploughed with you, all the air humming -all the land loud with you -all our hearts proud with you -all our souls bowed with the awe of your coming - -where's the arch high enough -lads, to receive you -where's the eye dry enough -dears, to perceive you -when at last and at last in your glory you come -tramping home - -every one of you won the war -you and you and you -you that carry an unscathed head -you that halt with a broken tread -and oh, most of all, you dead, you dead -lift up the gates for these that are last -that are last in the great procession -let the living pour in, take possession -flood back to the city, the ranch, the farm -the church and the college and mill -back to the office, the store, the exchange -back to the wife with the babe on her arm -back to the mother that waits on the sill -and the supper that's hot on the range - -and now, when the last of them all are by -be the gates lifted up on high -to let those others in -those others, their brothers, that softly tread -that come so thick, yet take no ground -that are so many, yet make no sound -our dead, our dead, our dead - -o silent and secretly-moving throng -in your fifty thousand strong -coming at dusk when the wreaths have dropt -and streets are empty, and music stopt -silently coming to hearts that wait -dumb in the door and dumb at the gate -and hear your step and fly to your call -every one of you won the war -but you, you dead, most of all - - - -the snow had begun in the gloaming -and busily all the night -had been heaping field and highway -with a silence deep and white - -every pine and fir and hemlock -wore ermine too dear for an earl -and the poorest twig on the elm tree -was ridged inch-deep with pearl - -from sheds new-roofed with carrara -came chanticleer's muffled crow -the stiff rails were softened to swan's-down -and still fluttered down the snow - -i stood and watched by the window -the noiseless work of the sky -and the sudden flurries of snow-birds -like brown leaves whirling by - -i thought of a mound in sweet auburn -where a little headstone stood -how the flakes were folding it gently -as did robins the babes in the wood - -up spoke our own little mabel -saying, "father, who makes it snow -and i told of the good all-father -who cares for us here below - -again i looked at the snow-fall -and thought of the leaden sky -that arched o'er our first great sorrow -when that mound was heaped so high - -i remembered the gradual patience -that fell from that cloud like snow -flake by flake, healing and hiding -the scar of our deep-plunged woe - -and again to the child i whispered -darling, the merciful father -alone can make it fall - -then, with eyes that saw not, i kissed her -and she, kissing back, could not know -that _my_ kiss was given to her sister -folded close under deepening snow - - - - -by the rude bridge that arched the flood -their flag to april's breeze unfurled -here once the embattled farmers stood -and fired the shot heard round the world - -the foe long since in silence slept -alike the conqueror silent sleeps -and time the ruined bridge has swept -down the dark stream which seaward creeps - -on this green bank, by this soft stream -we set to-day a votive stone -that memory may their deed redeem -when, like our sires, our sons are gone - -spirit, that made these heroes dare -to die, to leave their children free -bid time and nature gently spare -the shaft we raise to them and thee - - - -it looked extremely rocky for the mudville nine that day -the score stood two to four with but an inning left to play -so, when cooney died at second, and burrows did the same -a pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game - -a straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest -with that hope which springs eternal within the human breast -for they thought: "if only casey could get a whack at that -they'd put up even money now, with casey at the bat - -but flynn preceded casey, and likewise so did blake -and the former was a puddin', and the latter was a fake -so on that stricken multitude a deathlike silence sat -for there seemed but little chance of casey's getting to the bat - -but flynn let drive a "single," to the wonderment of all -and the much-despised blakey "tore the cover off the ball -and when the dust had lifted and they saw what had occurred -there was blakey safe at second, and flynn a-huggin' third - -then, from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell -it rumbled in the mountain-tops, it rattled in the dell -it struck upon the hillside and rebounded on the flat -for casey, mighty casey, was advancing to the bat - -there was ease in casey's manner as he stepped into his place -there was pride in casey's bearing, and a smile on casey's face -and when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat -no stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas casey at the bat - -ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt -five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt -then while the new york pitcher ground the ball into his hip -defiance gleamed in casey's eye, a sneer curled casey's lip - -and now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air -and casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there -close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped - -from the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar -like the beating of great storm waves on a stern and distant shore -and it's likely they'd have killed him had not casey raised a hand - -with a smile of christian charity great casey's visage shone -he stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on -he signaled to sir timothy, once more the spheroid flew -but casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "strike two - -but one scornful look from casey and the audience was awed -they saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain -and they knew that casey wouldn't let that ball go by again - -the sneer is gone from casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate -he pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate -and now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go -and now the air is shattered by the force of casey's blow - -oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright -the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light -and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout -but there is no joy in mudville--mighty casey has struck out - - - - -there were saddened hearts in mudville for a week or even more -there were muttered oaths and curses--every fan in town was sore -and then to think he'd go and spring a bush league trick like that - -all his past fame was forgotten; he was now a hopeless "shine -they called him "strike-out casey" from the mayor down the line -and as he came to bat each day his bosom heaved a sigh -while a look of hopeless fury shone in mighty casey's eye - -the lane is long, someone has said, that never turns again -and fate, though fickle, often gives another chance to men -and casey smiled--his rugged face no longer wore a frown -the pitcher who had started all the trouble came to town - -all mudville has assembled; ten thousand fans had come -to see the twirler who had put big casey on the bum -and when he stepped into the box the multitude went wild -he doffed his cap in proud disdain--but casey only smiled - -but in that throng of thousands there was not a single fan -who thought that mudville had a chance; and with the setting sun -their hopes sank low--the rival team was leading "four to one - -the last half of the ninth came round, with no change in the score -but when the first man up hit safe the crowd began to roar -the din increased, the echo of ten thousand shouts was heard -when the pitcher hit the second and gave "four balls" to the third - -three men on base--nobody out--three runs to tie the game -a triple meant the highest niche in mudville's hall of fame -but here the rally ended and the gloom was deep as night -when the fourth one "fouled to catcher," and the fifth "flew out to right - -a dismal groan in chorus came--a scowl was on each face -when casey walked up, bat in hand, and slowly took his place -his bloodshot eyes in fury gleamed; his teeth were clinched in hate -he gave his cap a vicious hook and pounded on the plate - -but fame is fleeting as the wind, and glory fades away -there were no wild and woolly cheers, no glad acclaim this day -they hissed and groaned and hooted as they clamored, "strike him out -but casey gave no outward sign that he had heard the shout - -the pitcher smiled and cut one loose; across the plate it spread -another hiss, another groan--"strike one!" the umpire said -zip! like a shot, the second curve broke just below his knee - -no roasting for the umpire now--his was an easy lot -but here the pitcher twirled again--was that a rifle shot -a whack; a crack; and out through space the leather pellet flew -a blot against the distant sky, a speck against the blue - -above the fence in center field, in rapid whirling flight -the sphere sailed on; the blot grew dim and then was lost to sight -ten thousand hats were thrown in air, ten thousand threw a fit -but no one ever found the ball that mighty casey hit - -oh, somewhere in this favored land dark clouds may hide the sun -and somewhere bands no longer play and children have no fun -and somewhere over blighted lives there hangs a heavy pall -but mudville hearts are happy now--for casey hit the ball - - - -backward, turn backward, o time, in your flight -make me a child again just for tonight -mother, come back from the echoless shore -take me again to your heart as of yore -kiss from my forehead the furrows of care -smooth the few silver threads out of my hair -over my slumbers your loving watch keep -rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep - -backward, flow backward, o tide of the years -i am so weary of toil and of tears -toil without recompense, tears all in vain -take them, and give me my childhood again -i have grown weary of dust and decay -weary of flinging my soul-wealth away -weary of sowing for others to reap -rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep - -tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue -mother, o mother, my heart calls for you -many a summer the grass has grown green -blossomed and faded, our faces between -yet with strong yearning and passionate pain -long i to-night for your presence again -come from the silence so long and so deep -rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep - -over my heart, in the days that are flown -no love like mother-love ever has shone -no other worship abides and endures -faithful, unselfish and patient, like yours -none like a mother can charm away pain -from the sick soul and the world-weary brain -slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep -rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep - -come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold -fall on your shoulders again as of old -let it drop over my forehead to-night -shading my faint eyes away from the light -for with its sunny-edged shadows once more -haply will throng the sweet visions of yore -lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep -rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep - -mother, dear mother, the years have been long -since i last listened your lullaby song -sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem -womanhood's years have been only a dream -clasped to your breast in a loving embrace -with your light lashes just sweeping my face -never hereafter to wake or to weep -rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep - - - -my child, ah, my child; thou art weary to-night -thy spirit is sad, and dim is the light -thou wouldst call me back from the echoless shore -to the trials of life, to thy heart as of yore -thou longest again for my fond loving care -for my kiss on thy cheek, for my hand on thy hair -but angels around thee their loving watch keep -and angels, my darling, will rock thee to sleep - -gird on thy armor, keep back thy tears -count not thy trials nor efforts in vain -they'll bring thee the light of thy childhood again -thou shouldst not weary, my child, by the way -but watch for the light of that brighter day -not tired of "sowing for others to reap -for angels, my darling, will rock thee to sleep - -tired, my child, of the "base, the untrue -i have tasted the cup they have given to you -i've felt the deep sorrow in the living green -of a low mossy grave by the silvery stream -but the dear mother i then sought for in vain -is an angel presence and with me again -and in the still night, from the silence deep -come the bright angels to rock me to sleep - -nearer thee now than in days that are flown -purer the love-light encircling thy home -far more enduring the watch for tonight -than ever earth worship away from the light -soon the dark shadows will linger no more -nor come to thy call from the opening door -but know thou, my child, that the angels watch keep -and soon, very soon, they'll rock thee to sleep - -they'll sing thee to sleep with a soothing song -and, waking, thou'lt be with a heavenly throng -and thy life, with its toil and its tears and pain -thou wilt then see has not been in vain -thou wilt meet those in bliss whom on earth thou didst love -and whom thou hast taught of the "mansions above -the angels, my darling, will rock thee to sleep - - - -perhaps the day you reck -our boys, the twenty-second maine -kept early's men in check -just where wade hampton boomed away -the fight went neck and neck - -all day the weaker wing we held -and held it with a will -five several stubborn times we charged -the battery on the hill -and five times beaten back, re-formed -and kept our column still - -at last from out the center fight -spurred up a general's aide -he cried, as past he sped -our colonel simply touched his cap -and then, with measured tread - -to lead the crouching line once more -the grand old fellow came -no wounded man but raised his head -and strove to gasp his name -and those who could not speak nor stir - -for he was all the world to us -that hero gray and grim -right well we knew that fearful slope -we'd climb with none but him -though while his white head led the way -we'd charge hell's portals in - -this time we were not half way up -when, midst the storm of shell -our leader, with his sword upraised -beneath our bayonets fell -and as we bore him back, the foe -set up a joyous yell - -our hearts went with him. back we swept -and when the bugle said -but hung his dogged head -the sullen soldiers said - -just then before the laggard line -the colonel's horse we spied -bay billy, with his trappings on -his nostrils swelling wide -as though still on his gallant back -the master sat astride - -right royally he took the place -that was of old his wont -and with a neigh that seemed to say -above the battle's brunt -if i am not in front - -like statues rooted there we stood -and gazed a little space -above that floating mane we missed -the dear familiar face -but we saw bay billy's eye of fire -and it gave us heart of grace - -no bugle-call could rouse us all -as that brave sight had done -down all the battered line we felt -a lightning impulse run -up, up the hill we followed bill -and we captured every gun - -and when upon the conquered height -died out the battle's hum -vainly 'mid living and the dead -we sought our leader dumb -it seemed as if a spectre steed -to win that day had come - -and then the dusk and dew of night -fell softly o'er the plain -as though o'er man's dread work of death -the angels wept again -and drew night's curtain gently round -a thousand beds of pain - -all night the surgeons' torches went -the ghastly rows between -all night with solemn step i paced -the torn and bloody green -but who that fought in the big war -such dread sights have not seen - -at last the morning broke. the lark -sang in the merry skies -as if to e'en the sleepers there -it said "awake, arise -though naught but that last trump of all -could ope their heavy eyes - -and then once more, with banners gay -stretched out the long brigade -trimly upon the furrowed field -the troops stood on parade -and bravely 'mid the ranks were closed -the gaps the fight had made - -not half the twenty-second's men -were in their place that morn -and corporal dick, who yester-noon -stood six brave fellows on -now touched my elbow in the ranks -for all between were gone - -ah! who forgets that weary hour -when, as with misty eyes -to call the old familiar roll -the solemn sergeant tries -one feels that thumping of the heart -as no prompt voice replies - -and as in faltering tone and slow -the last few names were said -across the field some missing horse -toiled up with weary tread -it caught the sergeant's eye, and quick -bay billy's name he read - -yes! there the old bay hero stood -all safe from battle's harms -and ere an order could be heard -or the bugle's quick alarms -down all the front, from end to end -the troops presented arms - -not all the shoulder-straps on earth -could still our mighty cheer -and ever from that famous day -when rang the roll-call clear -bay billy's name was read, and then -the whole line answered, "here - - - -day by day the organ-builder in his lonely chamber wrought -day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought -till at last the work was ended; and no organ voice so grand -ever yet had soared responsive to the master's magic hand - -ay, so rarely was it builded that whenever groom and bride -who, in god's sight were well-pleasing, in the church stood side by side -without touch or breath the organ of itself began to play -and the very airs of heaven through the soft gloom seemed to stray - -he was young, the organ-builder, and o'er all the land his fame -ran with fleet and eager footsteps, like a swiftly rushing flame -all the maidens heard the story; all the maidens blushed and smiled -by his youth and wondrous beauty and his great renown beguiled - -so he sought and won the fairest, and the wedding-day was set -happy day--the brightest jewel in the glad year's coronet -but when they the portal entered, he forgot his lovely bride -forgot his love, forgot his god, and his heart swelled high with pride - -how the vast cathedral-arches will re-echo with my praise -up the aisle the gay procession moved. the altar shone afar -with every candle gleaming through soft shadows like a star - -but he listened, listened, listened, with no thought of love or prayer -for the swelling notes of triumph from his organ standing there -all was silent. nothing heard he save the priest's low monotone -and the bride's robe trailing softly o'er the floor of fretted stone - -then his lips grew white with anger. surely god was pleased with him -who had built the wondrous organ for his temple vast and dim -whose the fault then? hers--the maiden standing meekly at his side -flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was false to him--his bride - -vain were all her protestations, vain her innocence and truth -on that very night he left her to her anguish and her ruth -far he wandered to a country wherein no man knew his name -for ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still his wrath and shame - -then his haughty heart grew softer, and he thought by night and day -of the bride he had deserted, till he hardly dared to pray -thought of her, a spotless maiden, fair and beautiful and good -thought of his relentless anger, that had cursed her womanhood - -till his yearning grief and penitence at last were all complete -and he longed, with bitter longing, just to fall down at her feet -ah! how throbbed his heart when, after many a weary day and night -rose his native towers before him, with the sunset glow alight - -through the gates into the city on he pressed with eager tread -there he met a long procession--mourners following the dead -why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along the way - -and because her days were given to the service of god's poor -from his church we mean to bury her. see! yonder is the door - -no one knew him; no one wondered when he cried out, white with pain -no one questioned when, with pallid lips, he poured his tears like rain -as he made his way unchallenged, and bore the coffin's head - -bore it through the open portal, bore it up the echoing aisle -let it down before the altar, where the lights burned clear the while -when, oh, hark; the wondrous organ of itself began to play -strains of rare, unearthly sweetness never heard until that day - -all the vaulted arches rang with music sweet and clear -all the air was filled with glory, as of angels hovering near -and ere yet the strain was ended, he who bore the coffin's head -with the smile of one forgiven, gently sank beside it--dead - -they who raised the body knew him, and they laid him by his bride -down the aisle and o'er the threshold they were carried, side by side -while the organ played a dirge that no man ever heard before -and then softly sank to silence--silence kept forevermore - - - -a fellow just a thing or two -you've had a furlough, been to see -how all the folks in jersey do -it's months ago since i was there -i, and a bullet from fair oaks -when you were home, old comrade, say -did you see any of our folks - -for if i do look grim and rough -i've got some feelin -people think -a soldier's heart is mighty tough -but, harry, when the bullets fly -and hot saltpetre flames and smokes -while whole battalions lie afield -one's apt to think about his folks - -the old man--is he hearty yet -and mother--does she fade at all -or does she seem to pine and fret -for me? and sis?--has she grown tall -and did you see her friend--you know -that annie moss -where did you see her?--tell: me, hal -a lot of news about our folks - -it's likely, for they're always there -not sunday? no? a funeral? who -who, harry? how you shake and stare -all well, you say, and all were out -what ails you, hal? is this a hoax -why don't you tell me like a man -what is the matter with our folks - -i say all well, for he knows best -who takes the young ones in his arms -before the sun goes to the west -the axe-man death deals right and left -and flowers fall as well as oaks -and so -fair annie blooms no more -and that's the matter with your folks - -and this white blossom from her breast -and here--your sister bessie wrote -a letter telling all the rest -bear up, old friend -nobody speaks -only the old camp-raven croaks -and soldiers whisper, "boys, be still -there's some bad news from granger's folks - -he turns his back--the only foe -that ever saw it--on this grief -and, as men will, keeps down the tears -kind nature sends to woe's relief -then answers he: "ah, hal, i'll try -but in my throat there's something chokes -because, you see, i've thought so long -to count her in among our folks - -but still i will keep thinking, too -i could have kept all trouble off -by being tender, kind and true -but maybe not -she's safe up there -and when the hand deals other strokes -she'll stand by heaven's gate, i know -and wait to welcome in our folks - - - -which well-nigh filled joe's bar-room on the corner of the square -and as songs and witty stories came through the open door -a vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor - -i wouldn't touch him with a fork, he's as filthy as a turk - -this badinage the poor wretch took with stoical, good grace -in fact, he smiled as though he thought he'd struck the proper place -to be in such good company would make a deacon proud - -when i had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow -what? you laugh as though you thought this pocket never held a sou -i once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one of you - -next time i pass this good saloon, i'll make another call -my voice is cracked, my throat's worn out, and my lungs are going fast - -i'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, i promise, too -that i was ever a decent man, not one of you would think -but i was, some four or five years back. say, give me another drink - -such little drinks, to a bum like me, are miserably tame -five fingers--there, that's the scheme--and corking whisky, too -well, here's luck, boys; and landlord, my best regards to you - -i came to be the dirty sot you see before you now -as i told you, once i was a man, with muscle, frame and health -and but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth - -but an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good -i worked hard at my canvas, and was bidding fair to rise -for gradually i saw the star of fame before my eyes - -it brought me fifteen hundred pounds, and added to my name -and then i met a woman--now comes the funny part -with eyes that petrified my brain and sunk into my heart - -could ever love a woman, and expect her love for me -but 'twas so, and for a month or two her smiles were freely given -and when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven - -with a form like the milo venus, too beautiful to live -with eyes that would beat the koh-i-noor, and a wealth of chestnut hair -if so, 'twas she, for there never was another half so fair - -of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way -and madeline admired it, and, much to my surprise -said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes - -my friend had stolen my darling, and i was left alone -and ere a year of misery had passed above my head -the jewel i had treasured so had tarnished, and was dead - -i thought you'd be amused, and laughing all the while -why, what's the mattter, friend? there's a teardrop in your eye -come, laugh, like me; 'tis only babes and women that should cry - -and i'll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad -give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score -you shall see the lovely madeline upon the bar-room floor - -another drink, and, with chalk in hand, the vagabond began -to sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man -then as he placed another lock upon the shapely head -with a fearful shriek, he leaped, and fell across the picture dead - - - -one day through the primeval wood -a calf walked home, as good calves should -but made a trail all bent askew -a crooked trail, as all calves do -since then three hundred years have fled -and, i infer, the calf is dead - -but still he left behind his trail -and thereby hangs a moral tale -the trail was taken up next day -by a lone dog that passed that way -and then the wise bell-wether sheep -pursued the trail o'er vale and steep -and drew the flock behind him, too -as good bell-wethers always do -and from that day, o'er hill and glade -through those old woods a path was made - -and many men wound in and out -and turned and dodged and bent about -and uttered words of righteous wrath -because 'twas such a crooked path -but still they followed--do not laugh -the first migrations of that calf -and through this winding woodway stalked -because he wabbled when he walked - -this forest path became a lane -that bent and turned and turned again -this crooked path became a road -where many a poor horse, with his load -toiled on beneath the burning sun -and traveled some three miles in one -and thus a century and a half -they trod the footsteps of that calf - -the years passed on in swiftness fleet -the road became a village street -and this, before men were aware -a city's crowded thoroughfare -and soon the central street was this -of a renowned metropolis -and men two centuries and a half -trod in the footsteps of that calf - -each day a hundred thousand rout -followed the zigzag calf about -and o'er his crooked journey went -the traffic of a continent -a hundred thousand men were led -by a calf near three centuries dead -they followed still his crooked way -and lost one hundred years a day -for thus such reverence is lent -to well-established precedent - -a moral lesson this might teach -were i ordained and called to preach -for men are prone to go it blind -along the calf-paths of the mind -and work away from sun to sun -to do what other men have done -they follow in the beaten track -and out and in, and forth and back -and still their devious course pursue -to keep the path that others do -but how the wise wood-gods must laugh -who saw the first primeval calf -ah, many things this tale might teach -but i am not ordained to preach - - - -paul revere was a rider bold -well has his valorous deed been told -sheridan's ride was a glorious one -often it has been dwelt upon -but why should men do all the deeds -on which the love of a patriot feeds -hearken to me, while i reveal -the dashing ride of jennie m'neal - -on a spot as pretty as might be found -in the dangerous length of the neutral ground -in a cottage, cozy, and all their own -she and her mother lived alone -safe were the two, with their frugal store -from all of the many who passed their door -for jennie's mother was strange to fears -and jennie was large for fifteen years -with vim her eyes were glistening -her hair was the hue of a blackbird's wing -and while the friends who knew her well -the sweetness of her heart could tell -a gun that hung on the kitchen wall -looked solemnly quick to heed her call -and they who were evil-minded knew -her nerve was strong and her aim was true -so all kind words and acts did deal -to generous, black-eyed jennie m'neal - -one night, when the sun had crept to bed -and rain-clouds lingered overhead -and sent their surly drops for proof -to drum a tune on the cottage roof -close after a knock at the outer door -there entered a dozen dragoons or more -their red coats, stained by the muddy road -that they were british soldiers showed -the captain his hostess bent to greet -saying, "madam, please give us a bit to eat -we will pay you well, and, if may be -this bright-eyed girl for pouring our tea -then we must dash ten miles ahead -to catch a rebel colonel abed -he is visiting home, as doth appear -we will make his pleasure cost him dear -and they fell on the hasty supper with zeal -close-watched the while by jennie m'neal - -for the gray-haired colonel they hovered near -had been her true friend, kind and dear -and oft, in her younger days, had he -right proudly perched her upon his knee -and told her stories many a one -concerning the french war lately done -and oft together the two friends were -and many the arts he had taught to her -she had hunted by his fatherly side -he had shown her how to fence and ride -and once had said, "the time may be -your skill and courage may stand by me -so sorrow for him she could but feel -brave, grateful-hearted jennie m'neal - -with never a thought or a moment more -bare-headed she slipped from the cottage door -ran out where the horses were left to feed -unhitched and mounted the captain's steed -and down the hilly and rock-strewn way -she urged the fiery horse of gray -around her slender and cloakless form -pattered and moaned the ceaseless storm -secure and tight a gloveless hand -grasped the reins with stern command -and full and black her long hair streamed -whenever the ragged lightning gleamed -and on she rushed for the colonel's weal -brave, lioness-hearted jennie m'neal - -hark! from the hills, a moment mute -came a clatter of hoofs in hot pursuit -and a cry from the foremost trooper said -she heeded it not, and not in vain -she lashed the horse with the bridle-rein - -so into the night the gray horse strode -his shoes hewed fire from the rocky road -and the high-born courage that never dies -flashed from his rider's coal-black eyes -the pebbles flew from the fearful race -the raindrops grasped at her glowing face -cried eager, resolute jennie m'neal - -then, no one answering to the calls -sped after her a volley of balls -they passed her in her rapid flight -they screamed to her left, they screamed to her right -but, rushing still o'er the slippery track -she sent no token of answer back -except a silvery laughter-peal -brave, merry-hearted jennie m'neal - -so on she rushed, at her own good will -through wood and valley, o'er plain and hill -the gray horse did his duty well -till all at once he stumbled and fell -himself escaping the nets of harm -but flinging the girl with a broken arm -still undismayed by the numbing pain -she clung to the horse's bridle-rein -and gently bidding him to stand -petted him with her able hand -then sprung again to the saddle bow -and shouted, "one more trial now -as if ashamed of the heedless fall -he gathered his strength once more for all -and, galloping down a hillside steep -gained on the troopers at every leap -no more the high-bred steed did reel -but ran his best for jennie m'neal - -they were a furlong behind, or more -when the girl burst through the colonel's door -her poor arm helpless hanging with pain -and she all drabbled and drenched with rain -but her cheeks as red as fire-brands are -and her eyes as bright as a blazing star -and shouted, "quick! be quick, i say -they come! they come! away! away -then, sunk on the rude white floor of deal -poor, brave, exhausted jennie m'neal - -the startled colonel sprung, and pressed -the wife and children to his breast -and turned away from his fireside bright -and glided into the stormy night -then soon and safely made his way -to where the patriot army lay -but first he bent in the dim firelight -and kissed the forehead broad and white -and blessed the girl who had ridden so well -to keep him out of a prison-cell -the girl roused up at the martial din -just as the troopers came rushing in -and laughed, e'en in the midst of a moan -saying, "good sirs, your bird has flown -so deal with me now as you think best -but the grand young captain bowed, and said -of womankind i must crown you queen -so brave a girl i have never seen -wear this gold ring as your valor's due -and when peace comes i will come for you -but jennie's face an arch smile wore -as she said, "there's a lad in putnam's corps -who told me the same, long time ago -you two would never agree, i know -i promised my love to be as true as steel -said good, sure-hearted jennie m'neal - - - -they say that man is mighty, he governs land and sea -he wields a mighty scepter o'er lesser powers that be -by a mightier power and stronger, man from his throne is hurled -and the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world - -blessings on the hand of woman! angels guard its strength and grace -in the palace, cottage, hovel, oh, no matter where the place -would that never storms assailed it, rainbows ever gently curled -for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world - -infancy's the tender fountain, power may with beauty flow -mother's first to guide the streamlets, from them souls unresting grow -grow on for the good or evil, sunshine streamed or darkness hurled -for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world - -woman, how divine your mission here upon our natal sod -keep, oh, keep the young heart open always to the breath of god -all true trophies of the ages are from mother-love impearled -for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world - -blessings on the hand of woman! fathers, sons and daughters cry -and the sacred song is mingled with the worship in the sky -mingles where no tempest darkens, rainbows evermore are curled -for the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world - - - -i live for those who love me -whose hearts are kind and true -for the heaven that smiles above me -and awaits my spirit, too -for the human ties that bind me -for the task by god assigned me -for the bright hopes left behind me -and the good that i can do - -i live to learn their story -who've suffered for my sake -to emulate their glory -and to follow in their wake -bards, patriots, martyrs, sages -the noble of all ages -whose deeds crowd history's pages -and time's great volume make - -i live to hold communion -with all that is divine -to feel there is a union -to profit by affliction -reap truths from fields of fiction -grow wiser from conviction -and fulfill each grand design - -i live to hail that season -by gifted minds foretold -when men shall rule by reason -and not alone by gold -when man to man united -and every wrong thing righted -the whole world shall be lighted -as eden was of old - -i live for those who love me -for those who know me true -for the heaven that smiles above me -and awaits my spirit, too -for the cause that lacks assistance -for the wrong that needs resistance -for the future in the distance -and the good that i can do - - - -if all the ships i have at sea -should come a-sailing home to me -weighed down with gems, and silk and gold -ah! well, the harbor would not hold -so many ships as there would be -if all my ships came home from sea - -if half my ships came home from sea -and brought their precious freight to me -ah! well, i should have wealth as great -as any king that sits in state -so rich the treasure there would be -in half my ships now out at sea - -if but one ship i have at sea -should come a-sailing home to me -ah! well, the storm clouds then might frown -for, if the others all went down -still rich and glad and proud i'd be -if that one ship came home to me - -if that one ship went down at sea -and all the others came to me -weighed down with gems and wealth untold -with honor, riches, glory, gold -the poorest soul on earth i'd be -if that one ship came not to me - -o skies, be calm; o winds, blow free -blow all my ships safe home to me -but if thou sendest some awrack -to nevermore come sailing back -send any, all that skim the sea -but send my love ship home to me - - - - -god made man in his own image; in the image of god made he - -bowed by the weight of centuries he leans -upon his hoe and gazes on the ground -the emptiness of ages in his face -and on his back the burden of the world -who made him dead to rapture and despair -a thing that grieves not and that never hopes -stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox -who loosened and let down this brutal jaw -whose was the hand that slanted back this brow -whose breath blew out the light within this brain -is this the thing, the lord god made and gave -to have dominion over sea and land -to trace the stars and search the heavens for power -to feel the passion of eternity -is this the dream he dreamed who shaped the suns -and pillared the blue firmament with light -down all the stretch of hell to its last gulf -there is no shape more terrible than this -more tongued with censure of the world's blind greed -more filled with signs and portents for the soul -more fraught with menace to the universe - -what gulfs between him and the seraphim -slave of the wheel of labor, what to him -are plato and the swing of pleiades -what the long reaches of the peaks of song -the rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose -through this dread shape the suffering ages look -time's tragedy is in that aching stoop -through this dread shape humanity betrayed -plundered, profaned and disinherited -cries protest to the judges of the world -a protest that is also prophecy - -o masters, lords and rulers in all lands -is this the handiwork you give to god -this monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched -how will you ever straighten up this shape -touch it again with immortality -give back the upward looking and the light -rebuild it in the music and the dream -make right the immemorial infamies, perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes - -o masters, lords and rulers in all lands -how will the future reckon with this man -how answer his brute question in that hour -when whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world -how will it be with kingdom and with kings -with those who shaped him to the thing he is -when this dumb terror shall reply to god -after the silence of the centuries - - - -did you say you wished to see me, sir? step in; 'tis a cheerless place -but you're heartily welcome all the same; to be poor is no disgrace -have i been here long? oh, yes, sir! 'tis thirty winters gone -since poor jim took to crooked ways and left me all alone -jim was my son, and a likelier lad you'd never wish to see -till evil counsels won his heart and led him away from me - -and men go down--and down--and down--to blackness and despair -tossing about like wrecks at sea, with helm and anchor lost -on and on, through the surging waves, nor caring to count the cost -i doubt sometimes if the savior sees, he seems so far away -how the souls he loved and died for, are drifting--drifting astray - -indeed,'tis little wonder, sir, if woman shrinks and cries -when the life-blood on rum's altar spilled is calling to the skies -small wonder if her own heart feels each sacrificial blow -for isn't each life a part of hers? each pain her hurt and woe -read all the records of crime and shame--'tis bitterly, sadly true -where manliness and honor die, there some woman's heart dies, too - -i often think, when i hear folks talk so prettily and so fine -of "alcohol as needful food"; of the "moderate use of wine -how "the world couldn't do without it, there was clearly no other way -but for a man to drink, or let it alone, as his own strong will might say -that "to use it, but not abuse it, was the proper thing to do -how i wish they'd let old poorhouse nan preach her little sermon, too - -i would give them scenes in a woman's life that would make their -pulses stir -for i was a drunkard's child and wife--aye, a drunkard's mother, sir -i would tell of childish terrors, of childish tears and pain -of cruel blows from a father's hand when rum had crazed his brain -he always said he could drink his fill, or let it alone as well -perhaps he might, he was killed one night in a brawl--in a grog-shop hell - -i would tell of years of loveless toil the drunkard's child had passed -with just one gleam of sunshine, too beautiful to last -when i married tom i thought for sure i had nothing more to fear -that life would come all right at last; the world seemed full of cheer -but he took to moderate drinking--he allowed 'twas a harmless thing -so the arrow sped, and my bird of hope came down with a broken wing - -tom was only a moderate drinker; ah, sir, do you bear in mind -how the plodding tortoise in the race left the leaping hare behind -and that's the way, i'm thinking, that the moderate drinkers go -step over step--day after day--with sleepless, tireless pace -while the toper sometimes looks behind and tarries in the race - -ah, heavily in the well-worn path poor tom walked day by day -for my heart-strings clung about his feet and tangled up the way -the days were dark, and friends were gone, and life dragged on full slow -and children came, like reapers, and to a harvest of want and woe -two of them died, and i was glad when they lay before me dead -i had grown so weary of their cries--their pitiful cries for bread - -there came a time when my heart was stone; i could neither hope nor pray -poor tom lay out in the potter's field, and my boy had gone astray -my boy who'd been my idol, while, like hound athirst for blood -between my breaking heart and him the liquor seller stood -and lured him on with pleasant words, his pleasures and his wine -ah, god have pity on other hearts as bruised and hurt as mine - -there were whispers of evil-doing, of dishonor, and of shame -that i cannot bear to think of now, and would not dare to name -there was hiding away from the light of day, there was creeping about at -night -a hurried word of parting--then a criminal's stealthy flight -his lips were white with remorse and fright when he gave me a good-by kiss -and i've never seen my poor lost boy from that black day to this - -ah, none but a mother can tell you, sir, how a mother's heart will ache -with the sorrow that comes of a sinning child, with grief for a lost one's -when she knows the feet she trained to walk have gone so far astray -and the lips grown bold with curses that she taught to sing and pray -a child may fear--a wife may weep, but of all sad things, none other -seems half so sorrowful to me as being a drunkard's mother - -they tell me that down in the vilest dens of the city's crime and murk -there are men with the hearts of angels, doing the angels' work -that they win back the lost and the straying, that they help the weak to -stand -by the wonderful power of loving words--and the help of god's right hand -and often and often, the dear lord knows, i've knelt and prayed to him -that somewhere, somehow, 'twould happen that they'd find and save my jim - -you'll say 'tis a poor old woman's whim; but when i prayed last night -right over yon eastern window there shone a wonderful light -the softest voice i had ever heard: it rung like a silver bell -and these were the words, "the prodigal turns, so tired by want and sin -he seeks his father's open door--he weeps--and enters in - -why, sir, you're crying as hard as i; what--is it really done -have the loving voice and the helping hand brought back my wandering son -did you kiss me and call me "mother"--and hold me to your breast -or is it one of the taunting dreams that come to mock my rest -no--no! thank god, 'tis a dream come true! i can die, for he's saved -my boy -and the poor old heart that had lived on grief was broken at last by joy - - - -oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud -like a swift fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud -a flash of the lightning, a break of the wave -he passes from life to his rest in the grave - -the leaves of the oak and the willows shall fade -be scattered around, and together be laid -and the young and the old, and the low and the high -shall moulder to dust, and together shall die - -the child whom a mother attended and loved -the mother that infant's affection who proved -the husband that mother and infant who blessed -each--all are away to their dwelling of rest - -the maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye -shone beauty and pleasure--her triumphs are by -and the memory of those who loved her and praised -are alike from the minds of the living erased - -the hand of the king who the scepter hath borne -the brow of the priest who the mitre hath worn -the eye of the sage and the heart of the brave -are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave - -the peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap -the herdsman who climbed with his goats to the steep -the beggar who wandered in search of his bread -have faded away like the grass that we tread - -the saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven -the sinner who dared to remain unforgiven -the wise and the foolish, the guilty and just -have quietly mingled their bones in the dust - -so the multitude goes--like the flower and the weed -that wither away to let others succeed -so the multitude comes--even those we behold -to repeat every tale that has often been told - -for we are the same things that our fathers have been -we see the same sights that our fathers have seen -we drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun -and we run the same course that our fathers have run - -the thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think -from the death we are shrinking from, they too would shrink -to the life we are clinging to, they too would cling -but it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing - -they loved--but their story we cannot enfold -they scorned--but the heart of the haughty is cold -they grieved--but no wail from their slumbers may come -they joy'd--but the voice of their gladness--is dumb - -they died, ay, they died! and we things that are now -who walk on the turf that lies over their brow -who make in their dwellings a transient abode -meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road - -yea, hope and despondence, and pleasure and pain -are mingled together in sunshine and rain -and the smile, and the tear, and the song and the dirge -still follow each other like surge upon surge - -from the blossoms of health to the paleness of death -from the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud -oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud - - - -that blazed before fort sumter had wakened the north as one -long ere the wondrous pillar of battle-cloud and fire -had marked where the unchained millions marched on to their heart's desire -on roofs and glittering turrets, that night, as the sun went down -the mellow glow of the twilight shone like a jeweled crown -and, bathed in the living glory, as the people lifted their eyes -they saw the pride of the city, the spire of st. michael's rise -high over the lesser steeples, tipped with a golden ball -that hung like a radiant planet caught in its earthward fall -first glimpse of home to the sailor who made the harbor round -and last slow-fading vision dear to the outward bound -the gently gathering shadows shut out the waning light -the children prayed at their bedsides as they were wont each night -the noise of buyer and seller from the busy mart was gone -and in dreams of a peaceful morrow the city slumbered on - -but another light than sunrise aroused the sleeping street -for a cry was heard at midnight, and the rush of trampling feet -men stared in each other's faces, thro' mingled fire and smoke -while the frantic bells went clashing clamorous, stroke on stroke -by the glare of her blazing roof-tree the houseless mother fled -with the babe she pressed to her bosom shrieking in nameless dread -while the fire-king's wild battalions scaled wall and cap-stone high -and painted their glaring banners against an inky sky -from the death that raged behind them, and the crush of ruin loud -to the great square of the city, were driven the surging crowd -where yet firm in all the tumult, unscathed by the fiery flood -with its heavenward pointing finger the church of st. michael's stood - -but e'en as they gazed upon it there rose a sudden wail -a cry of horror blended with the roaring of the gale -on whose scorching wings updriven, a single flaming brand -aloft on the towering steeple clung like a bloody hand -far out on the lurid harbor they watched it from the ships -a baleful gleam, that brighter and ever brighter shone -like a flickering, trembling will-o'-the-wisp to a steady beacon grown -for the love of the periled city, plucks down yon burning brand -so cried the mayor of charleston, that all the people heard -but they looked each one at his fellow, and no man spoke a word -who is it leans from the belfry, with face upturned to the sky -clings to a column and measures the dizzy spire with his eye -will he dare it, the hero undaunted, that terrible, sickening height -or will the hot blood of his courage freeze in his veins at the sight -but see! he has stepped on the railing, he climbs with his feet and his -hands -and firm on a narrow projection, with the belfry beneath him, he stands -now once, and once only, they cheer him--a single tempestuous breath -and there falls on the multitude gazing a hush like the stillness of death - -slow, steadily mounting, unheeding aught save the goal of the fire -still higher and higher, an atom, he moves on the face of the spire -he stops! will he fall? lo! for answer, a gleam like a meteor's track -and, hurled on the stones of the pavement, the red brand lies shattered and -black -once more the shouts of the people have rent the quivering air -at the church door mayor and council wait with their feet on the stair -and the eager throng behind them press for a touch of his hand -the unknown savior whose daring could compass a deed so grand - -but why does a sudden tremor seize on them as they gaze -and what meaneth that stifled murmur of wonder and amaze -he stood in the gate of the temple he had periled his life to save -and the face of the unknown hero was the sable face of a slave -with folded arms he was speaking in tones that were clear, not loud -and his eyes, ablaze in their sockets, burnt into the eyes of the crowd -if the deed i have done before you be not the deed of a _man - -he stepped but a short space backward, and from all the women and men -there were only sobs for answer, and the mayor called for a pen -and the great seal of the city, that he might read who ran -and the slave who saved st. michael's went out from its door a man - - - -a soldier of the legion lay dying in algiers -there was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears -but a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away -and bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say -the dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand -and he said, "i never more shall see my own, my native land -take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine -for i was born at bingen--at bingen on the rhine - -to hear my mournful story in the pleasant vineyard ground -that we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done -full many a corpse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun -and 'midst the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars -the death-wound on their gallant breasts the last of many scars -but some were young--and suddenly beheld life's morn decline -and one had come from bingen--fair bingen on the rhine - -and i was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage -for my father was a soldier, and even as a child -my heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild -and when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard -i let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword -and with boyish love i hung it where the bright light used to shine -on the cottage-wall at bingen--calm bingen on the rhine - -when the troops are marching home again with glad and gallant tread -but to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye -for her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die -and if a comrade seek her love, i ask her in my name -to listen to him kindly, without regret or shame -and to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine -for the honor of old bingen--dear bingen on the rhine - -you'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye -too innocent for coquetry--too fond for idle scorning -oh, friend! i fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning -tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen -my body will be out of pain--my soul be out of prison -i dreamed i stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine -on the vine-clad hills of bingen--fair bingen on the rhine - -the german songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear -and down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill -the echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still -and her glad blue eyes were on me as we passed with friendly talk -down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk -and her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine -but we'll meet no more at bingen--loved bingen on the rhine - -his voice grew faint and hoarser,--his grasp was childish weak -his eyes put on a dying look,--he sighed and ceased to speak -his comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled -the soldier of the legion, in a foreign land--was dead -and the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down -on the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown -yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine -as it shone on distant bingen--fair bingen on the rhine - - - -on a board of bright mosaic wrought in many a quaint design -gleam a brace of silver goblets wreathed with flowers and filled with wine -round the board a group is seated; here and there are threads of white -which their dark locks lately welcomed; but they're only boys tonight -some whose words have thrilled the senate, some who win the critic's -praise -all are "chums" to-night, with voices redolent of college days - -how we used to fill our oil cans and repair to 'no. 9 -but at last the old professor--never long was he outdone -opened up our shining oil cans and demolished all our fun -in the laugh that rings so gayly through the richly curtained room -join they all, save one; why is it? does he see the waxen bloom -tremble in its vase of silver? does he see the ruddy wine -shiver in its crystal goblet, or do those grave eyes divine -something sadder yet? he pauses till their mirth has died away -then in measured tones speaks gravely -worthily your praise -it is bitter fruitage ripened from our pranks of college days - -with his flexible voice would garnish any tale, whate'er it be - -at the san francisco l---- house, when i heard a plaintive moan -sounding from the room adjoining. hoping to give some relief -to the suffering one, i entered; but it thrilled my heart with grief -just to see that wreck of manhood--bloated face, disheveled hair -wildly tossing, ever moaning, while his thin hands beat the air -broken prayers, vile oaths and curses filled the air as i drew near -then in faint and piteous accents, these words i could plainly hear -then i'll follow where they lead me, be it to the depths of hell -when he saw me he grew calmer, started strangely--looked me o'er -oh, the glory of expression! i had seen those eyes before -yes, i knew him; it was horace, he who won the college prize -naught remained of his proud beauty but the splendor of his eyes -he whom we were all so proud of, lay there in the fading light -if my years should number fourscore, i shall ne'er forget that sight -and he knew me--called me 'albert,' ere a single word i'd said -we were comrades in the old days; i sat down beside the bed - -he kept talking of our boyhood while my hand he still would keep -in his own so white and wasted, and with burning eyes would gaze -on my face, still talking feebly of the dear old college days -but a poor degraded outcast--hopes, ambition swept away -and it dates back to those oil cans that we filled in greatest glee -little did i think in those days what the harvest now would be - -wrings my heart, burst from his white lips, though his teeth were tightly -and with sudden strength he started--sprang from my detaining arm -shrieking wildly, 'curse the demons; do they think to do me harm -back! i say, ye forked-tongued serpents reeking with the filth of hell -don't ye see i have her with me--my poor sainted little belle - -my head down, 'oh, al,' he whispered, 'such remorse you never knew -and again i tried to soothe him, but my eyes o'erbrimmed with tears -his were dry and clear, as brilliant as they were in college years -all the flush had left his features, he lay white as marble now -tenderly i smoothed his pillow, wiped the moisture from his brow -though i begged him to be quiet, he would talk of those old days -brokenly at times, but always of 'the boys' with loving praise - -you remember rena barstow. when i asked if she were dead -but i wish, to god, it were so, and i still might call her mine -she's divorced--she's mine no longer,' here his voice grew weak and hoarse -i've a little girl in heaven, playing round the savior's knee -always patient and so faithful that at last she died for me - -every one had lost hope in me but my faithful little child -she would say, "now stop, dear papa, for i know you can stop _now -i would promise, kiss my darling, and the next day break my vow -so it went until one christmas, dark and stormy, cold and drear -out i started, just as usual, for the cursed rum shop near -and my darling followed after, in the storm of rain and sleet -with no covering wrapped about her, naught but slippers on her feet -no one knew it, no one missed her, till there came with solemn tread -stern-faced men unto our dwelling, bringing back our darling--_dead -they had found her cold and lifeless, like, they said, an angel fair -leaning 'gainst the grog shop window--oh, she thought that _i was there -then he raised his arms toward heaven, called aloud unto the dead -for his mind again was wandering: 'belle, my precious belle!' he said -all the way--alone--my darling--just to lead--poor--papa--home -and he surely had an answer, for a silence o'er him fell -and i sat alone and lonely--death had come with little belle - -silence in that princely parlor--head of every guest is bowed -they still see the red wine sparkle, but 'tis through a misty cloud -said the host at last, arising, "i have scorned the pledge to sign -laughed at temperance all my life long. never more shall drop of wine -touch my lips. the fruit _was_ bitter, boys; 'twas i proposed it first -that foul joke from which poor horace ever bore a life accurst -let us pledge ourselves to-night, boys, never more by word, or deed -in our own fair homes, or elsewhere, help to plant the poison seed - -silence once again, but only for a moment's space, and then -in one voice they all responded with a low and firm "amen - - - -the summer and autumn had been so wet -that in winter the corn was growing yet -the grain lie rotting on the ground - -every day the starving poor -crowded round bishop hatto's door -for he had a plentiful last year's store -and all the neighborhood could tell -his granaries were furnish'd well - -at last bishop hatto appointed a day -to quiet the poor without delay -he bade them to his great barn repair -and they should have food for the winter there - -rejoiced the tidings good to hear -the poor folk flock'd from far and near -the great barn was full as it could hold -of women and children, and young and old - -then, when he saw it could hold no more -bishop hatto he made fast the door -and while for mercy on christ they call -he set fire to the barn and burnt them all - -for ridding it, in these times forlorn -of rats that only consume the corn - -so then to his palace returned he -and he sat down to supper merrily -and he slept that night like an innocent man -but bishop hatto never slept again - -in the morning, as he enter'd the hall -where his picture hung against the wall -a sweat like death all over him came -for the rats had eaten it out of the frame - -as he look'd, there came a man from his farm -he had a countenance white with alarm -and the rats had eaten all your corn - -another came running presently -and he was pale as pale could be -the lord forgive you for yesterday - -the walls are high, and the shores are steep -and the stream is strong, and the water deep - -bishop hatto fearfully hasten'd away -and he cross'd the rhine without delay -and reach'd his tower and barr'd with care -all the windows, doors, and loopholes there - -he laid him down and closed his eyes -but soon a scream made him arise -he started, and saw two eyes of flame -on his pillow, from whence the screaming came - -he listen'd and look'd,--it was only the cat -but the bishop he grew more fearful for that -for she sat screaming, mad with fear -at the army of rats that were drawing near - -for they have swum over the river so deep -and they have climb'd the shores so steep -and up the tower their way is bent -to do the work for which they were sent - -they are not to be told by the dozen or score -by thousands they come, and by myriads and more -such numbers had never been heard of before -such a judgment had never been witness'd of yore - -down on his knees the bishop fell -and faster and faster his beads did he tell -as louder and louder, drawing near -the gnawing of their teeth he could hear - -and in at the windows and in at the door -and through the walls helter-skelter they pour -and down from the ceiling and up through the floor - -from the right and the left, from behind and before -from within and without, from above and below -and all at once to the bishop they go - -they have whetted their teeth against the stones -and now they pick the bishop's bones -they gnaw'd the flesh from every limb -for they were sent to do judgment on him - - - -the sabbath day was ending in a village by the sea -the uttered benediction touched the people tenderly -and they rose to face the sunset in the glowing, lighted west -and then hastened to their dwellings for god's blessed boon of rest - -bat they looked across the waters, and a storm was raging there -a fierce spirit moved above them--the wild spirit of the air -and it lashed and shook and tore them till they thundered, groaned and -boomed -and, alas! for any vessel in their yawning gulfs entombed - -very anxious were the people on that rocky coast of wales -lest the dawn of coming morrow should be telling awful tales -when the sea had spent its passion and should cast upon the shore -bits of wreck and swollen victims as it had done heretofore - -with the rough winds blowing round her, a brave woman strained her eyes -as she saw along the billows a large vessel fall and rise -oh, it did not need a prophet to tell what the end must be -for no ship could ride in safety near that shore on such a sea - -then the pitying people hurried from their homes and thronged the beach -oh, for power to cross the waters and the perishing to reach -helpless hands were wrung in terror, tender hearts grew cold with dread -and the ship, urged by the tempest, to the fatal rock-shore sped - -lo! when next the white, shocked faces looked with terror on the sea -only one last clinging figure on a spar was seen to be - -nearer to the trembling watchers came the wreck tossed by the wave -and the man still clung and floated, though no power on earth could save - -any memory of his sermon? firstly? secondly? ah, no -there was but one thing to utter in that awful hour of woe -so he shouted through the trumpet, "look to jesus -can you hear?" and "aye, aye, sir," rang the answer o'er the waters loud -and clear - -then they listened,--"he is singing, 'jesus, lover of my soul -and the winds brought back the echo, "while the nearer waters roll -strange, indeed, it was to hear him,--"till the storm of life is past -singing bravely o'er the waters, "oh, receive my soul at last - -he could have no other refuge,--"hangs my helpless soul on thee -and the watchers, looking homeward, through their eyes by tears made dim -said, "he passed to be with jesus in the singing of that hymn - - - -though to walk near its crest was so pleasant -but over its terrible edge there had slipped -a duke and full many a peasant -so the people said something would have to be done -but their projects did not at all tally -some said, "put a fence around the edge of the cliff -some, "an ambulance down in the valley - -but the cry for the ambulance carried the day -for it spread through the neighboring city -a fence may be useful or not, it is true -but each heart became brimful of pity -for those who slipped over that dangerous cliff -and the dwellers in highway and alley -gave pounds or gave pence, not to put up a fence -but an ambulance down in the valley - -it isn't the slipping that hurts them so much -as the shock down below when they're stopping -so day after day, as these mishaps occurred -quick forth would these rescuers sally -to pick up the victims who fell off the cliff -with their ambulance down in the valley - -then an old sage remarked: "it's a marvel to me -that people give far more attention -to repairing results than to stopping the cause -when they'd much better aim at prevention -let us stop at its source all this mischief," cried he -if the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense -with the ambulance down in the valley - -he'd dispense with all charities, too, if he could -no! no! we'll support them forever -aren't we picking up folks just as fast as they fall -and shall this man dictate to us? shall he -why should people of sense stop to put up a fence -while the ambulance works in the valley - -but a sensible few, who are practical too -will not bear with such nonsense much longer -they believe that prevention is better than cure -and their party will soon be the stronger -encourage them then, with your purse, voice, and pen -and while other philanthropists dally -they will scorn all pretense and put up a stout fence -on the cliff that hangs over the valley - -better guide well the young than reclaim them when old -for the voice of true wisdom is calling -to prevent other people from falling -better close up the source of temptation and crime -than deliver from dungeon or galley -better put a strong fence 'round the top of the cliff -than an ambulance down in the valley - - - -a district school, not far away -was humming with its wonted noise -of three-score mingled girls and boys -some few upon their tasks intent -but more on furtive mischief bent -the while the master's downward look -was fastened on a copy-book -when suddenly, behind his back -rose sharp and clear a rousing smack -as 'twere a battery of bliss -let off in one tremendous kiss -i thaw him kith thuthanna peathe -with frown to make a statue thrill -the master thundered, "hither, will -like wretch o'ertaken in his track -with stolen chattels on his back -will hung his head in fear and shame -and to the awful presence came -a great, green, bashful simpleton -the butt of all good-natured fun -with smile suppressed, and birch upraised -the threatener faltered, "i'm amazed -that you, my biggest pupil, should -be guilty of an act so rude -before the whole set school to boot -what evil genius put you to 't -but when susanna shook her curls -and whispered i was 'fraid of girls -and dursn't kiss a baby's doll -i couldn't stand it, sir, at all -but up and kissed her on the spot -i know--boo-hoo--i ought to not -but, somehow, from her looks--boo-hoo -i thought she kind o' wished me to - - - -do you know you have asked for the costliest thing -ever made by the hand above -a woman's heart and a woman's life -and a woman's wonderful love - -do you know you have asked for this priceless thing -as a child might ask for a toy -demanding what others have died to win -with the reckless dash of a boy - -you have written my lesson of duty out -man-like you have questioned me -now stand at the bar of my woman's soul -until i shall question thee - -you require your mutton shall always be hot -your socks and your shirts shall be whole -i require your heart to be true as god's stars -and pure as heaven your soul - -you require a cook for your mutton and beef -i require a far better thing -a seamstress you're wanting for stockings and shirts -i look for a man and a king - -a king for a beautiful realm called home -and a man that the maker, god -shall look upon as he did the first -and say, "it is very good - -i am fair and young, but the rose will fade -from my soft, young cheek one day -will you love then, 'mid the falling leaves -as you did 'mid the bloom of may - -is your heart an ocean so strong and deep -i may launch my all on its tide -a loving woman finds heaven or hell -on the day she is made a bride - -i require all things that are grand and true -all things that a man should be -if you give this all, i would stake my life -to be all you demand of me - -if you cannot do this, a laundress and cook -you can hire with little to pay -but a woman's heart and a woman's life -are not to be won that way - - - -i want free life and i want fresh air -and i sigh for the canter after the cattle -the crack of the whips like shots in battle -the mellay of horns, and hoofs, and heads -that wars, and wrangles, and scatters, and spreads -the green beneath and the blue above -and dash and danger, and life and love -and lasca -lasca used to ride -on a mouse-gray mustang, close to my side -with blue _serape_ and bright-belled spur -i laughed with joy as i looked at her -little knew she of books or creeds -an _ave maria_ sufficed her needs -little she cared, save to be by my side -to ride with me, and ever to ride -from san saba's shore to lavaca's tide -she was as bold as the billows that beat -she was as wild as the breezes that blow -from her little head to her little feet -she was swayed, in her suppleness, to and fro -by each gust of passion; a sapling pine -that grows on the edge of a kansas bluff -and wars with the wind when the weather is rough -is like this lasca, this love of mine -she would hunger that i might eat -would take the bitter and leave me the sweet -but once, when i made her jealous for fun -at something i'd whispered, or looked, or done -one sunday, in san antonio -to a glorious girl on the alamo -she drew from her girdle a dear little dagger -and--sting of a wasp!--it made me stagger -an inch to the left or an inch to the right -and i shouldn't be maundering here to-night -but she sobbed, and, sobbing, so swiftly bound -her torn _rebosa_ about the wound -that i quite forgave her. scratches don't count -in texas, down by the rio grande - -her eye was brown,--a deep, deep brown -her hair was darker than her eye -and something in her smile and frown -curled crimson lip, and instep high -showed that there ran in each blue vein -mixed with the milder aztec strain -the vigorous vintage of old spain -she was alive in every limb -with feeling, to the finger tips -and when the sun is like a fire -and sky one shining, soft sapphire -one does not drink in little sips - -the air was heavy, the night was hot -i sat by her side, and forgot--forgot -forgot the herd that were taking their rest -forgot that the air was close opprest -that the texas norther comes sudden and soon -in the dead of night or the blaze of noon -that once let the herd at its breath take fright -that nothing on earth can stop the flight -and woe to the rider, and woe to the steed -who falls in front of their mad stampede -was that thunder? no, by the lord -i sprang to my saddle without a word -one foot on mine, and she clung behind -away on a hot chase down the wind -but never was fox-hunt half so hard -and never was steed so little spared -for we rode for our lives. you shall hear how we fared -in texas, down by the rio grande - -the mustang flew, and we urged him on -there was one chance left, and you have but one -halt, jump to the ground, and shoot your horse -crouch under his carcass, and take your chance -and if the steers, in their frantic course -don't batter you both to pieces at once -you may thank your star; if not, good-by -to the quickening kiss and the long-drawn sigh -and the open air and the open sky -in texas, down by the rio grande - -the cattle gained on us, and just as i felt -for my old six-shooter, behind in my belt -down came the mustang, and down came we -clinging together, and--what was the rest -a body that spread itself on my breast -two arms that shielded my dizzy head -two lips that hard on my lips were pressed -then came thunder in my ears -as over us surged the sea of steers -blows that beat blood into my eyes -and when i could rise -lasca was dead - -i gouged out a grave a few feet deep -and there in earth's arms i laid her to sleep -and there she is lying, and no one knows -and the summer shines and the winter snows -for many a day the flowers have spread -a pall of petals over her head -and the little gray hawk hangs aloft in the air -and the sly coyote trots here and there -and the black snake glides, and glitters, and slides -into the rift in a cotton-wood tree -and the buzzard sails on -and comes and is gone -stately and still like a ship at sea -and i wonder why i do not care -for the things that are like the things that were -does half my heart lie buried there -in texas, down by the rio grande - - - -over the hill to the poor-house i'm trudgin' my weary way -i, a woman of seventy, and only a trifle gray -i, who am smart an' chipper, for all the years i've told -as many another woman that's only half as old - -over the hill to the poor-house--i can't quite make it clear -over the hill to the poor-house-it seems so horrid queer -many a step i've taken a-toiling to and fro -but this is a sort of journey i never thought to go - -what is the use of heapin' on me a pauper's shame -am i lazy or crazy? am i blind or lame -true, i am not so supple, nor yet so awful stout -but charity ain't no favor, if one can live without - -i am willin' and anxious an' ready any day -to work for a decent livin', an' pay my honest way -for i can earn my victuals, an' more too, i'll be bound -if anybody only is willin' to have me round - -once i was young an' han'some--i was upon my soul -once my cheeks was roses, my eyes as black as coal -and i can't remember, in them days, of hearin' people say -for any kind of a reason, that i was in their way - -but many a house an' home was open then to me -many a han'some offer i had from likely men -and nobody ever hinted that i was a burden then - -and when to john i was married, sure he was good and smart -but he and all the neighbors would own i done my part -for life was all before me, an' i was young an' strong -and i worked the best that i could in tryin' to get along - -and so we worked together: and life was hard, but gay -with now and then a baby for to cheer us on our way -till we had half a dozen, an' all growed clean an' neat -an' went to school like others, an' had enough to eat - -so we worked for the childr'n, and raised 'em every one -worked for 'em summer and winter just as we ought to've done -only, perhaps, we humored 'em, which some good folks condemn -but every couple's childr'n's a heap the best to them - -strange how much we think of our blessed little ones -i'd have died for my daughters, i'd have died for my sons -and god he made that rule of love; but when we're old and gray -i've noticed it sometimes, somehow, fails to work the other way - -strange, another thing: when our boys an' girls was grown -and when, exceptin' charley, they'd left us there alone -when john he nearer an' nearer come, an' dearer seemed to be -the lord of hosts he come one day, an' took him away from me - -still i was bound to struggle, an' never to cringe or fall -still i worked for charley, for charley was now my all -and charley was pretty good to me, with scarce a word or frown -till at last he went a-courtin', and brought a wife from town - -she was somewhat dressy, an' hadn't a pleasant smile -she was quite conceity, and carried a heap o' style -but if ever i tried to be friends, i did with her, i know -but she was hard and proud, an' i couldn't make it go - -she had an edication, an' that was good for her -but when she twitted me on mine, 'twas carryin' things too fur -an' i told her once, 'fore company (an' it almost made her sick -that i never swallowed a grammar, or eat a 'rithmetic - -so 'twas only a few days before the thing was done -they was a family of themselves, and i another one -and a very little cottage one family will do -but i never have seen a house that was big enough for two - -an' i never could speak to suit her, never could please her eye -an' it made me independent, an' then i didn't try -but i was terribly staggered, an' felt it like a blow -when charley turn'd agin me, an' told me i could go - -i went to live with susan, but susan's house was small -and she was always a-hintin' how snug it was for us all -and what with her husband's sisters, and what with childr'n three - -an' then i went to thomas, the oldest son i've got -for thomas's buildings'd cover the half of an acre lot -but all the childr'n was on me--i couldn't stand their sauce -and thomas said i needn't think i was comin' there to boss - -an' then i wrote rebecca, my girl who lives out west -and to isaac, not far from her--some twenty miles, at best -and one of 'em said 'twas too warm there for any one so old -and t'other had an opinion the climate was too cold - -so they have shirked and slighted me, an' shifted me about -so they have well-nigh soured me, an' wore my old heart out -but still i've borne up pretty well, an' wasn't much put down -till charley went to the poor-master, an' put me on the town - -over the hill to the poor-house--my childr'n dear, good-by -many a night i've watched you when only god was nigh -and god'll judge between us; but i will always pray -that you shall never suffer the half i do to-day - - - -when freedom from her mountain height -unfurled her standard to the air -she tore the azure robe of night -and set the stars of glory there -she mingled with its gorgeous dyes -the milky baldric of the skies -and striped its pure celestial white -with streakings of the morning light -then from his mansion in the sun -she called her eagle bearer down -and gave into his mighty hand -the symbol of her chosen land - -majestic monarch of the cloud -who rear'st aloft thy regal form -to hear the tempest trumpings loud -and see the lightning lances driven -when strive the warriors of the storm -and rolls the thunder-drum of heaven -child of the sun! to thee 'tis given -to guard the banner of the free -to hover in the sulphur smoke -to ward away the battle stroke -and bid its blendings shine afar -like rainbows on the cloud of war -the harbingers of victory - -flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly -the sign of hope and triumph high -when speaks the signal trumpet tone -and the long line comes gleaming on -ere yet the lifeblood, warm and wet -has dimmed the glistening bayonet -each soldier eye shall brightly turn -to where thy sky-born glories burn -and, as his springing steps advance -catch war and vengeance from the glance - -and when the cannon-mouthings loud -heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud -and gory sabres rise and fall -like shoots of flame on midnight's pall -then shall thy meteor glances glow -and cowering foes shall shrink beneath -each gallant arm that strikes below -that lovely messenger of death - -flag of the seas! on ocean wave -thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave -when death, careering on the gale -sweeps darkly 'round the bellied sail -and frighted waves rush wildly back -before the broadside's reeling rack -each dying wanderer of the sea -shall look at once to heaven and thee -and smile to see thy splendors fly -in triumph o'er his closing eye - -flag of the free heart's hope and home -by angel hands to valor given -thy stars have lit the welkin dome -and all thy hues were born in heaven -forever float that standard sheet -where breathes the foe but falls before us -with freedom's soil beneath our feet -and freedom's banner streaming o'er us - - - -a bunch of golden keys is mine -to make each day with gladness shine - -that unlocks every door for me - -when evening comes, "good night!" i say -and close the door of each glad day - -when at the table "if you please -i take from off my bunch of keys - -when friends give anything to me -i'll use the little "thank you" key - -when by mistake some harm i do - -or if unkindly harm i've given -with "forgive me" key i'll be forgiven - -on a golden ring these keys i'll bind -this is its motto: "be ye kind - -i'll often use each golden key -and so a happy child i'll be - - -i know a place where the sun is like gold -and the cherry blooms burst like snow -and down underneath is the loveliest nook -where the four-leaf clovers grow - -one leaf is for faith, and one is for hope -and one is for love, you know -and god put another one in for luck -if you search, you will find where they grow - -but you must have faith and you must have hope -you must love and be strong, and so -if you work, if you wait, you will find the place -where the four-leaf clovers grow - - - -note: a remarkable custom, brought from the old country, formerly -prevailed in the rural districts of new england. on the death of a -member of the family, the bees were at once informed of the event, and -their hives dressed in mourning. this ceremonial was supposed to be -necessary to prevent the swarms from leaving their hives and seeking a -new home - -here is the place; right over the hill -runs the path i took -you can see the gap in the old wall still -and the stepping-stones in the shallow brook - -there is the house, with the gate red-barred -and the poplars tall -and the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard -and the white horns tossing above the wall - -there are the beehives ranged in the sun -and down by the brink -of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun -pansy and daffodil, rose and pink - -a year has gone, as the tortoise goes -heavy and slow -and the same rose blows, and the same sun glows -and the same brook sings of a year ago - -there's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze -and the june sun warm -tangles his wings of fire in the trees -setting, as then, over fernside farm - -i mind me how with a lover's care -from my sunday coat -i brushed off the burs, and smoothed my hair -and cooled at the brookside my brow and throat - -since we parted, a month had passed -to love, a year -down through the beeches i looked at last -on the little red gate and the well-sweep near - -i can see it all now,--the slantwise rain -of light through the leaves -the sundown's blaze on her window-pane -the bloom of her roses under the eaves - -just the same as a month before -the house and the trees -the barn's brown gable, the vine by the door -nothing changed but the hives of bees - -before them, under the garden wall -forward and back -went drearily singing the chore-girl small -draping each hive with a shred of black - -trembling, i listened; the summer sun -had the chill of snow -for i knew she was telling the bees of one -gone on the journey we all must go - -then i said to myself, "my mary weeps -for the dead to-day -haply her blind grandsire sleeps -the fret and pain of his age away - -but her dog whined low; on the doorway sill -with his cane to his chin -the old man sat; and the chore-girl still -sung to the bees stealing out and in - -and the song she was singing ever since -in my ear sounds on -mistress mary is dead and gone - - - -not understood, we move along asunder -our paths grow wider as the seasons creep -along the years. we marvel and we wonder -why life is life, and then we fall asleep -not understood - -not understood, we gather false impressions -and hug them closer as the years go by -till virtues often seem to us transgressions -and thus men rise and fall and live and die -not understood - -not understood, poor souls with stunted visions -often measure giants by their narrow gauge -the poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision -are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age -not understood - -not understood, the secret springs of action -which lie beneath the surface and the show -are disregarded; with self-satisfaction -we judge our neighbors, and they often go -not understood - -not understood, how trifles often change us -the thoughtless sentence or the fancied slight -destroy long years of friendship and estrange us -and on our souls there falls a freezing blight -not understood - -not understood, how many hearts are aching -for lack of sympathy! ah! day by day -how many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking -how many noble spirits pass away -not understood - -o god! that men would see a little clearer -or judge less hardly when they cannot see -o god! that men would draw a little nearer -to one another! they'd be nearer thee -and understood - - -the woman was old, and ragged, and gray -and bent with the chill of a winter's day -the streets were white with a recent snow -and the woman's feet with age were slow - -at the crowded crossing she waited long -jostled aside by the careless throng -of human beings who passed her by -unheeding the glance of her anxious eye - -down the street with laughter and shout -glad in the freedom of "school let out -come happy boys, like a flock of sheep -hailing the snow piled white and deep -past the woman, so old and gray -hastened the children on their way - -none offered a helping hand to her -so weak and timid, afraid to stir -lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet -should trample her down in the slippery street - -at last came out of the merry troop -the gayest boy of all the group -he paused beside her, and whispered low - -her aged hand on his strong young arm -she placed, and so without hurt or harm -he guided the trembling feet along -proud that his own were young and strong -then back again to his friends he went -his young heart happy and well content - -for all she's aged, and poor, and slow -and some one, some time, may lend a hand -to help my mother--you understand -if ever she's poor, and old, and gray -and her own dear boy is far away - -in her home that 'night, and the prayer she said -was: "god, be kind to that noble boy -who is somebody's son, and pride and joy - -faint was the voice, and worn and weak -but the father hears when his children speak -angels caught the faltering word -and "somebody's mother's" prayer was heard - - -whither, midst falling dew -while glow the heavens with the last steps of day -far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue -thy solitary way - -vainly the fowler's eye -might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong -as, darkly seen against the crimson sky -thy figure floats along - -seek'st thou the plashy brink -of weedy lake, or marge of river wide -or where the rocking billows rise and sink -on the chafed ocean-side - -there is a power whose care -teaches thy way along that pathless coast -the desert and illimitable air -lone wandering, but not lost - -all day thy wings have fanned -at that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere -yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land -though the dark night is near - -and soon that toil shall end -soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest -and scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend -soon, o'er thy sheltered nest - -thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven -hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart -deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given -and shall not soon depart - -he who, from zone to zone -guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight -in the long way that i must tread alone -will lead my steps aright - - - -who fed me from her gentle breast -and hushed me in her arms to rest -and on my cheek sweet kisses prest -my mother - -when sleep forsook my open eye -who was it sung sweet lullaby -and rocked me that i should not cry -my mother - -who sat and watched my infant head -when sleeping in my cradle bed -and tears of sweet affection shed -my mother - -when pain and sickness made me cry -who gazed upon my heavy eye -and wept, for fear that i should die -my mother - -who ran to help me when i fell -and would some pretty story tell -or kiss the part to make it well -my mother - -who taught my infant lips to pray -to love god's holy word and day -and walk in wisdom's pleasant way -my mother - -and can i ever cease to be -affectionate and kind to thee -who wast so very kind to me -my mother - -oh, no, the thought i cannot bear -and if god please my life to spare -i hope i shall reward thy care -my mother - -when thou art feeble, old and gray -my healthy arms shall be thy stay -and i will soothe thy pains away -my mother - -and when i see thee hang thy head -and tears of sweet affection shed -my mother - - -the sun was shining on the sea -shining with all his might -he did his very best to make -the billows smooth and bright -and this was odd, because it was -the middle of the night - -the moon was shining sulkily -because she thought the sun -had got no business to be there -after the day was done - -the sea was wet as wet could be -the sands were dry as dry -you could not see a cloud, because -no cloud was in the sky -no birds were flying overhead -there were no birds to fly - -the walrus and the carpenter -were walking close at hand -they wept like anything to see -such quantities of sand -they said, "it would be grand - -swept it for half a year -do you suppose," the walrus said -and shed a bitter tear - -the walrus did beseech -along the briny beach -we cannot do with more than four -to give a hand to each - -the eldest oyster looked at him -but never a word he said -the eldest oyster winked his eye -and shook his heavy head -meaning to say he did not choose -to leave the oyster-bed - -but four young oysters hurried up -all eager for the treat -their coats were brushed, their faces washed -their shoes were clean and neat -and this was odd, because, you know -they hadn't any feet - -four other oysters followed them -and yet another four -and thick and fast they came at last -and more, and more, and more -all hopping through the frothy waves -and scrambling to the shore - -the walrus and the carpenter -walked on a mile or so -and then they rested on a rock -conveniently low -and all the little oysters stood -and waited in a row - -of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax -of cabbages and kings -and why the sea is boiling hot -and whether pigs have wings - -for some of us are out of breath -and all of us are fat -they thanked him much for that - -pepper and vinegar besides -are very good indeed -now, if you're ready, oysters dear -we can begin to feed - -turning a little blue -a dismal thing to do - -and you are very nice -the carpenter said nothing but -i wish you were not quite so deaf -i've had to ask you twice - -after we've brought them out so far -and made them trot so quick -the carpenter said nothing but - -with sobs and tears he sorted out -those of the largest size -holding his pocket-handkerchief -before his streaming eyes - -shall we be trotting home again -but answer came there none -and this was scarcely odd, because -they'd eaten every one - - - -the weary teacher sat alone -while twilight gathered on -and not a sound was heard around -the boys and girls were gone - -the weary teacher sat alone -unnerved and pale was he -bowed 'neath a yoke of care, he spoke -in sad soliloquy - -of labor thrown away -another chain of toil and pain -dragged through a tedious day - -love's sacrifice is lost -the hopes of morn, so golden, turn -each evening, into dross - -my strength, my life, my all -the seeds i sow will never grow -they perish where they fall - -he sighed, and low upon his hands -his aching brow he pressed -and o'er his frame ere long there came -a soothing sense of rest - -and then he lifted up his face -but started back aghast -the room, by strange and sudden change -assumed proportions vast - -it seemed a senate-hall, and one -addressed a listening throng -each burning word all bosoms stirred -applause rose loud and long - -the 'wildered teacher thought he knew -the speaker's voice and look -is in my record book - -the stately senate-hall dissolved -a church rose in its place -wherein there stood a man of god -dispensing words of grace - -and though he spoke in solemn tone -and though his hair was gray -the teacher's thought was strangely wrought - -the church, a phantom, vanished soon -what saw the teacher then -in classic gloom of alcoved room -an author plied his pen - -filled with a new surprise -among the great and wise - -the vision of a cottage home -the teacher now descried -a mother's face illumed the place -her influence sanctified - -this matron, well i know -was but a wild and careless child -not half an hour ago - -of duty's golden rule -her lips repeat in accents sweet -my words to her at school - -the scene was changed again, and lo -the schoolhouse rude and old -upon the wall did darkness fall -the evening air was cold - -then paced along the floor -and, whistling slow and soft and low -he locked the schoolhouse door - -and, walking home, his heart was full -of peace and trust and praise -and singing slow and soft and low -said, "after many days - - - -girt round with rugged mountains, the fair lake constance lies -in her blue heart reflected shine back the starry skies -and watching each white cloudlet float silently and slow -you think a piece of heaven lies on our earth below - -midnight is there: and silence, enthroned in heaven, looks down -upon her own calm mirror, upon a sleeping town -for bregenz, that quaint city upon the tyrol shore -has stood above lake constance a thousand years and more - -her battlement and towers, from off their rocky steep -have cast their trembling shadow for ages on the deep -mountain, and lake, and valley, a sacred legend know -of how the town was saved, one night three hundred years ago - -far from her home and kindred, a tyrol maid had fled -to serve in the swiss valleys, and toil for daily bread -and every year that fleeted so silently and fast -seemed to bear farther from her the memory of the past - -she served kind, gentle masters, nor asked for rest or change -her friends seemed no more new ones, their speech seemed no more strange -and when she led her cattle to pasture every day -she ceased to look and wonder on which side bregenz lay - -she spoke no more of bregenz, with longing and with tears -her tyrol home seemed faded in a deep mist of years -she heeded not the rumors of austrian war and strife -each day she rose, contented, to the calm toils of life - -yet when her master's children would clustering round her stand -she sang them ancient ballads of her own native land -and when at morn and evening she knelt before god's throne -the accents of her childhood rose to her lips alone - -and so she dwelt: the valley more peaceful year by year -when suddenly strange portents of some great deed seemed near -the golden corn was bending upon its fragile stock -while farmers, heedless of their fields, paced up and down in talk - -the men seemed stern and altered, with looks cast on the ground -with anxious faces, one by one, the women gathered round -all talk of flax, or spinning, or work, was put away -the very children seemed afraid to go alone to play - -one day, out in the meadow with strangers from the town -some secret plan discussing, the men walked up and down -yet now and then seemed watching a strange uncertain, gleam -that looked like lances 'mid the trees that stood below the stream - -at eve they all assembled, then care and doubt were fled -with jovial laugh they feasted; the board was nobly spread -the elder of the village rose up, his glass in hand -and cried, "we drink the downfall of an accursed land - -bregenz, our foeman's stronghold, bregenz shall be our own -the women shrank in terror, (yet pride, too, had her part -but one poor tyrol maiden felt death within her heart - -before her stood fair bregenz, once more her towers arose -what were the friends beside her? only her country's foes -the faces of her kinsfolk, the days of childhood flown -the echoes of her mountains, reclaimed her as their own - -nothing she heard around her, (though shouts rang forth again -gone were the green swiss valleys, the pasture, and the plain -before her eyes one vision, and in her heart one cry -that said, "go forth, save bregenz, and then, if need be, die - -with trembling haste and breathless, with noiseless step, she sped -horses and weary cattle were standing in the shed -she loosed the strong white charger, that fed from out her hand -she mounted, and she turned his head towards her native land - -out--out into the darkness--faster, and still more fast -the smooth grass flies behind her, the chestnut wood is past -she looks up; clouds are heavy: why is her steed so slow -scarcely the wind beside them can pass them as they go - -but louder than bells' ringing, or lowing of the kine -grows nearer in the midnight the rushing of the rhine - -shall not the roaring waters their headlong gallop check -the steed draws back in terror, she leans upon his neck -to watch the flowing darkness,--the bank is high and steep -one pause--he staggers forward, and plunges in the deep - -she strives to pierce the blackness, and looser throws the rein -her steed must breast the waters that dash above his mane -how gallantly, how nobly, he struggles through the foam -and see--in the far distance shine out the lights of home - -up the steep bank he bears her, and now they rush again -toward the heights of bregenz, that tower above the plain -they reach the gate of bregenz, just as the midnight rings -and out come serf and soldier to meet the news she brings - -bregenz is saved! ere daylight her battlements are manned -defiance greets the army that marches on the land -and if to deeds heroic should endless fame be paid -bregenz does well to honor the noble tyrol maid - -three hundred years are vanished, and yet upon the hill -an old stone gateway rises, to do her honor still -and there, when bregenz women sit spinning in the shade -they see in quaint old carving the charger and the maid - -and when, to guard old bregenz, by gateway, street, and tower -the warder paces all night long, and calls each passing hour -when midnight pauses in the skies he calls the maiden's name - - - -better than grandeur, better than gold -than rank and title a thousand fold -is a healthy body, a mind at ease -and simple pleasures that always please -a heart that can feel for a neighbor's woe -and share his joys with a genial glow -with sympathies large enough to enfold -all men as brothers,--is better than gold - -better than gold is a conscience clear -though toiling for bread in an humble sphere -doubly blest with content and health -untried by the lusts or cares of wealth -lowly living and lofty thought -adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot -for mind and morals, in nature's plan -are the genuine test of a gentleman - -better than gold is the sweet repose -of the sons of toil when their labors close -better than gold is the poor man's sleep -and the balm that drops on his slumbers deep -bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed -where luxury pillows his aching head -his simple opiate labor deems -a shorter road to the land of dreams - -better than gold is a thinking mind -that in the realm of books can find -a treasure surpassing australian ore -and live with the great and good of yore -the sage's lore and the poet's lay -the glories of empires pass'd away -the world's great drama will thus unfold -and yield a pleasure better than gold - -better than gold is a peaceful home -where all the fireside charities come -the shrine of love and the heaven of life -hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife -however humble the home may be -or tried with sorrow by heaven's decree -the blessings that never were bought or sold -and center there, are better than gold - - - -o suns and skies and clouds of june -and flowers of june together -ye cannot rival for one hour -october's bright blue weather - -when loud the bumblebee makes haste -belated, thriftless vagrant -and goldenrod is dying fast -and lanes with grapes are fragrant - -when gentians roll their fringes tight -to save them for the morning -and chestnuts fall from satin burrs -without a sound of warning - -when on the ground red apples lie -in piles like jewels shining -and redder still on old stone walls -are leaves of woodbine twining - -when all the lovely wayside things -their white-winged seeds are sowing -and in the fields, still green and fair -late aftermaths are growing - -when springs run low, and on the brooks -in idle, golden freighting -bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush -of woods, for winter waiting - -when comrades seek sweet country haunts -by twos and threes together -and count like misers hour by hour -october's bright blue weather - -o suns and skies and flowers of june -count all your boasts together -love loveth best of all the year -october's bright blue weather - - - -said brier-rose's mother to the naughty brier-rose -you will not scrub the kettles, and you will not touch the broom -you never sit a minute still at spinning-wheel or loom - -thus grumbled in the morning, and grumbled late at eve -the good-wife as she bustled with pot and tray and sieve -but brier-rose, she laughed and she cocked her dainty head - -to marry such a worthless wench, these seven leagues around -but brier-rose, she laughed and she trilled a merry lay - -the good-wife with a "humph" and a sigh forsook the battle -and flung her pots and pails about with much vindictive rattle -that thou hast punished me in age with such a wayward child - -up stole the girl on tiptoe, so that none her step could hear -and laughing pressed an airy kiss behind the good-wife's ear -and she, as e'er relenting, sighed: "oh, heaven only knows -whatever will become of you, my naughty brier-rose - -the sun was high and summer sounds were teeming in the air -the clank of scythes, the cricket's whir, and swelling woodnotes rare -from fields and copse and meadow; and through the open door -sweet, fragrant whiffs of new-mown hay the idle breezes bore - -then brier-rose grew pensive, like a bird of thoughtful mien -whose little life has problems among the branches green -she heard the river brawling where the tide was swift and strong -she heard the summer singing its strange, alluring song - -and out she skipped the meadows o'er and gazed into the sky -her heart o'erbrimmed with gladness, she scarce herself knew why -and to a merry tune she hummed, "oh, heaven only knows -whatever will become of the naughty brier-rose - -whene'er a thrifty matron this idle maid espied -she shook her head in warning, and scarce her wrath could hide -for girls were made for housewives, for spinning-wheel and loom -and not to drink the sunshine and wild flower's sweet perfume - -and oft the maidens cried, when the brier-rose went by -but brier-rose, as was her wont, she cocked her curly head - -and oft the young lads shouted, when they saw the maid at play -then she shook her tiny fist; to her cheeks the color flew - -till she was twenty summers old and yet remained unwed -and all the parish wondered: "the lord almighty knows -whatever will become of that naughty brier-rose - -and while they wondered came the spring a-dancing o'er the hills -her breath was warmer than of yore, and all the mountain rills -with their tinkling and their rippling and their rushing, filled the air -and the misty sounds of water forth-welling everywhere - -and in the valley's depth, like a lusty beast of prey -the river leaped and roared aloud and tossed its mane of spray -then hushed again its voice to a softly plashing croon -as dark it rolled beneath the sun and white beneath the moon - -it was a merry sight to see the lumber as it whirled -adown the tawny eddies that hissed and seethed and swirled -now shooting through the rapids and, with a reeling swing -into the foam-crests diving like an animated thing - -but in the narrows of the rocks, where o'er a steep incline -the waters plunged, and wreathed in foam the dark boughs of the pine -the lads kept watch with shout and song, and sent each straggling beam -a-spinning down the rapids, lest it should lock the stream - -a rush of feet, a dog's harsh bark, a torch's flaring light -and wandering gusts of dampness, and round us far and nigh -a throbbing boom of water like a pulse-beat in the sky - -the dawn just pierced the pallid east with spears of gold and red -as we, with boat-hooks in our hands, toward the narrows sped -and terror smote us; for we heard the mighty tree-tops sway -and thunder, as of chariots, and hissing showers of spray - -a hundred crowns i give to him who breaks the lumber lock -for if another hour go by, the angry waters' spoil -our homes will be, and fields, and our weary years of toil - -we looked each at the other; each hoped his neighbor would -brave death and danger for his home, as valiant norsemen should -but at our feet the brawling tide expanded like a lake -and whirling beams came shooting on, and made the firm rock quake - -but not a man came forward, and no one spoke or stirred -and nothing save the thunder of the cataract was heard - -but as with trembling hands and with fainting hearts we stood -we spied a little curly head emerging from the wood -we heard a little snatch of a merry little song -and saw the dainty brier-rose come dancing through the throng - -an angry murmur rose from the people round about -why ever he created that worthless brier-rose - -sweet brier-rose, she heard their cries; a little pensive smile -across her fair face flitted that might a stone beguile -and then she gave her pretty head a roguish little cock - -derisive shouts of laughter broke from throats of young and old -and, mockingly, a boat-hook into her hands was flung -when, lo! into the river's midst with daring leaps she sprung - -we saw her dimly through a mist of dense and blinding spray -from beam to beam she skipped, like a water-sprite at play -and now and then faint gleams we caught of color through the mist -a crimson waist, a golden head, a little dainty wrist - -in terror pressed the people to the margin of the hill -a hundred breaths were bated, a hundred hearts stood still -for, hark! from out the rapids came a strange and creaking sound -and then a crash of thunder which shook the very ground - -the waters hurled the lumber mass down o'er the rocky steep -we heard a muffled rumbling and a rolling in the deep -we saw a tiny form which the torrent swiftly bore -and flung into the wild abyss, where it was seen no more - -ah, little naughty brier-rose, thou couldst not weave nor spin -yet thou couldst do a nobler deed than all thy mocking kin -for thou hadst courage e'en to die, and by thy death to save -a thousand farms and lives from the fury of the wave - -and yet the adage lives, in the valley of thy birth -when wayward children spend their days in heedless play and mirth -oft mothers say, half smiling, half sighing, "heaven knows -whatever will become of the naughty brier-rose - - - -robert of sicily, brother of pope urbane -and valmond, emperor of allemaine -appareled in magnificent attire -with retinue of many a knight and squire -on st. john's eve, at vespers, proudly sat -and heard the priests chant the magnificat -and as he listened, o'er and o'er again -repeated, like a burden or refrain -he caught the words, _"deposuit potentes -de sede, et exaltavit humiles -and slowly lifting up his kingly head -he to a learned clerk beside him said -and has exalted them of low degree -thereat king robert muttered scornfully -only by priests, and in the latin tongue -for unto priests, and people be it known -there is no power can push me from my throne -and leaning back he yawned and fell asleep -lulled by the chant monotonous and deep - -when he awoke, it was already night -the church was empty, and there was no light -save where the lamps, that glimmered few and faint -lighted a little space before some saint -he started from his seat and gazed around -but saw no living thing and heard no sound -he groped towards the door, but it was locked -he cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked -and uttered awful threatenings and complaints -and imprecations upon men and saints -the sounds re-echoed from the roof and walls -as if dead priests were laughing in their stalls - -at length the sexton, hearing from without -the tumult of the knocking and the shout -and thinking thieves were in the house of prayer -came with his lantern, asking "who is there -half choked with rage, king robert fiercely said -the frightened sexton, muttering with a curse -turned the great key and flung the portal wide -a man rushed by him at a single stride -haggard, half-naked, without hat or cloak -who neither turned, nor looked at him, nor spoke -but leaped into the blackness of the night -and vanished like a spectre from his sight - -robert of sicily, brother of pope urbane -and valmond, emperor of allemaine -despoiled of his magnificent attire -bare-headed, breathless, and besprent with mire -with sense of wrong and outrage desperate -strode on and thundered at the palace gate -rushed through the court-yard, thrusting in his rage -to right and left each seneschal and page -and hurried up the broad and sounding stair -his white face ghastly in the torches' glare -from hall to hall he passed with breathless speed -voices and cries he heard, but did not heed -until at last he reached the banquet-room -blazing with light, and breathing with perfume - -there on the dais sat another king -wearing his robes, his crown, his signet ring -king robert's self in features, form, and height -but all transfigured with angelic light -it was an angel; and his presence there -with a divine effulgence filled the air -an exaltation, piercing the disguise -though none the hidden angel recognize - -a moment speechless, motionless, amazed -the throneless monarch on the angel gazed -who met his look of anger and surprise -with the divine compassion of his eyes -then said, "who art thou, and why com'st thou here -to which king robert answered with a sneer -from an impostor, who usurps my throne -and suddenly, at these audacious words -up sprang the angry guests, and drew their swords -the angel answered with unruffled brow -henceforth shalt wear the bells and scalloped cape -and for thy counselor shalt lead an ape -thou shalt obey my servants when they call -and wait upon my henchmen in the hall - -deaf to king robert's threats and cries and prayers -they thrust him from the hall and down the stairs -a group of tittering pages ran before -and as they opened wide the folding door -his heart failed, for he heard, with strange alarms -the boisterous laughter of the men-at-arms -and all the vaulted chamber roar and ring -with the mock plaudits of "long live the king - -next morning, waking with the day's first beam -he said within himself, "it was a dream -but the straw rustled as he turned his head -there were the cap and bells beside his bed -around him rose the bare, discolored walls -close by, the steeds were champing in their stalls -and in the corner, a revolting shape -shivering and chattering, sat the wretched ape -it was no dream; the world he loved so much -had turned to dust and ashes at his touch - -days came and went; and now returned again -to sicily the old saturnian reign -under the angel's governance benign -the happy island danced with corn and wine -and deep within the mountain's burning breast -enceladus, the giant, was at rest - -meanwhile king robert yielded to his fate -sullen and silent and disconsolate -dressed in the motley garb that jesters wear -with look bewildered, and a vacant stare -close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn -by courtiers mocked, by pages laughed to scorn -his only friend the ape, his only food -what others left--he still was unsubdued -and when the angel met him on his way -and half in earnest, half in jest, would say -sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel -the velvet scabbard held a sword of steel -burst from him in resistless overflow -and lifting high his forehead, he would fling -the haughty answer back, "i am, i am the king - -almost three years were ended, when there came -ambassadors of great repute and name -from valmond, emperor of allemaine -unto king robert, saying that pope urbane -by letter summoned them forthwith to come -on holy thursday to his city of rome -the angel with great joy received his guests -and gave them presents of embroidered vests -and velvet mantles with rich ermine lined -and rings and jewels of the rarest kind -then he departed with them o'er the sea -into the lovely land of italy -whose loveliness was more resplendent made -by the mere passing of that cavalcade -with plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir -of jeweled bridle and of golden spur - -and lo! among the menials, in mock state -upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait -his cloak of foxtails flapping in the wind -the solemn ape demurely perched behind -king robert rode, making huge merriment -in all the country towns through which they went - -the pope received them with great pomp, and blare -of bannered trumpets, on st. peter's square -giving his benediction and embrace -fervent, and full of apostolic grace -while with congratulations and with prayers -he entertained the angel unawares -robert, the jester, bursting through the crowd -into their presence rushed, and cried aloud -robert, your brother, king of sicily -this man, who wears my semblance to your eyes -is an impostor in a king's disguise -do you not know me? does no voice within -answer my cry, and say we are akin -the pope in silence, but with troubled mien -gazed at the angel's countenance serene -the emperor, laughing, said, "it is strange sport -to keep a mad man for thy fool at court -and the poor, baffled jester, in disgrace -was hustled back among the populace - -in solemn state the holy week went by -and easter sunday gleamed upon the sky -the presence of the angel, with its light -before the sun rose, made the city bright -and with new fervor filled the hearts of men -who felt that christ indeed had risen again -even the jester, on his bed of straw -with haggard eyes the unwonted splendor saw -he felt within a power unfelt before -and kneeling humbly on his chamber floor -he heard the rustling garments of the lord -sweep through the silent air, ascending heavenward - -and now the visit ending, and once more -valmond returning to the danube's shore -homeward the angel journeyed, and again -the land was made resplendent with his train -flashing along the towns of italy -unto salerno, and from thence by sea -and when once more within palermo's wall -and, seated on the throne in his great hall -he heard the angelus from convent towers -as if the better world conversed with ours -he beckoned to king robert to draw nigher -and with a gesture bade the rest retire -and when they were alone, the angel said -king robert crossed both hands upon his breast -and meekly answered him, "thou knowest best -my sins as scarlet are; let me go hence -and in some cloister's school of penitence -across those stones that pave the way to heaven -walk barefoot till my guilty soul be shriven - -the angel smiled, and from his radiant face -a holy light illumined all the place -and through the open window, loud and clear -they heard the monks chant in the chapel near -above the stir and tumult of the street -and has exalted them of low degree -and through the chant a second melody -rose like the throbbing of a single string - -king robert, who was standing near the throne -lifted his eyes, and lo! he was alone -but all appareled as in days of old -with ermined mantle and with cloth of gold -and when his courtiers came they found him there -kneeling upon the floor, absorbed in silent prayer - - - -it was late in mild october, and the long autumnal rain -had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again -the first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay -with the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow-flowers of may - -through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red -at first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he sped -yet, even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued -on the cornfields and the orchards, and softly pictured wood - -and all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night -he wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light -slanting through the painted beeches, he glorified the hill -and beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener still - -and shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky -flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew not why -and schoolgirls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks -mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks - -from spire and ball looked westerly the patient weathercock -but even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks -no sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping shell -and the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as they fell - -the summer grains were harvested; the stubble-fields lay dry -where june winds rolled, in light and shade, the pale green waves of rye -but still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with wood -ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop stood - -bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through husks that, dry and sere -unfolded by their ripened charge, shone out the yellow ear -beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a verdant fold -and glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere of gold - -there wrought the busy harvesters; and many a creaking wain -bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain -till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down, at last -and like a merry guest's farewell, the day in brightness passed - -and lo! as through the western pines on meadow, stream, and pond -flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire beyond -slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone -and the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one - -as thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away -and deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows lay -from many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet without name -their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry huskers came - -swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the mow -shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below -the growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before -and laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er - -half hidden in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart -talking their old times over, the old men sat apart -while, up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade -at hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played - -urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and fair -lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown hair -the master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth of tongue -to the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking-ballad sung - - - -if ever there lived a yankee lad -wise or otherwise, good or bad -who, seeing the birds fly, didn't jump -with flapping arms from stake or stump -or, spreading the tail -of his coat for a sail -take a soaring leap from post or rail -and wonder why -he couldn't fly -and flap and flutter and wish and try -if ever you knew a country dunce -who didn't try that as often as once -all i can say is, that's a sign -he never would do for a hero of mine - -an aspiring genius was d. green -the son of a farmer,--age fourteen -his body was long and lank and lean -just right for flying, as will be seen -he had two eyes, each bright as a bean -and a freckled nose that grew between -a little awry,--for i must mention -that he had riveted his attention -upon his wonderful invention -twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings -working his face as he worked the wings -and with every turn of gimlet and screw -turning and screwing his mouth round, too -till his nose seemed bent -to catch the scent -around some corner, of new-baked pies -and his wrinkled cheeks and his squinting eyes -grew puckered into a queer grimace -that made him look very droll in the face -and also very wise - -and wise he must have been, to do more -than ever a genius did before -excepting daedalus of yore -and his son icarus, who wore -upon their backs -those wings of wax -he had read of in the old almanacs -darius was clearly of the opinion -that the air is also man's dominion -and that, with paddle or fin or pinion -we soon or late -shall navigate -the azure as now we sail the sea -the thing looks simple enough to me -and if you doubt it -hear how darius reasoned about it - -must we give in -says he with a grin -are smarter'n we be -jest fold our hands an' see the swaller -an' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler -does the leetle, chatterin', sassy wren -no bigger'n my thumb, know more than men -jest show me that -er prove 't the bat -has got more brains than's in my hat -an' i'll back down, an' not till then - -he argued further: "ner i can't see -what's ta' use o' wings to a bumblebee -fer to git a livin' with, more'n to me -ain't my business -important's his'n is -that icarus -was a silly cuss -him an' his daddy daedalus -they might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax -wouldn't stan' sun-heat an' hard whacks -i'll make mine o' luther -er suthin' er other - -and he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned -to mummies that never can understand -the fust idee that's big an' grand -they'd 'a' laft an' made fun -o' creation itself afore't was done -so he kept his secret from all the rest -safely buttoned within his vest -and in the loft above the shed -himself he locks, with thimble and thread -and wax and hammer and buckles and screws -and all such things as geniuses use -two bats for patterns, curious fellows -a charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows -an old hoop-skirt or two, as well as -some wire and several old umbrellas -a carriage-cover, for tail and wings -a piece of harness; and straps and strings -and a big strong boxs -in which he locks -these and a hundred other things - -his grinning brothers, reuben and burke -and nathan and jotham and solomon, lurk -around the corner to see him work -sitting cross-legged, like a turk -drawing the waxed end through with a jerk -and boring the holes with a comical quirk -of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk -but vainly they mounted each other's backs -and poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks -with wood from the pile and straw from the stacks -he plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks -and a bucket of water, which one would think -he had brought up into the loft to drink -when he chanced to be dry -stood always nigh -for darius was sly -and whenever at work he happened to spy -at chink or crevice a blinking eye -he let a dipper of water fly -guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep -and he sings as he locks -his big strong box - -an' he is leetle an' long an' slim -an' quick of motion an' nimble of limb -an' ef yeou'll be -advised by me -keep wide awake when ye're ketchin' him -so day after day -he stitched and tinkered and hammered away -till at last 'twas done -the greatest invention under the sun - -and the weather was dry -and not a cloud was on all the sky -save a few light fleeces, which here and there -half mist, half air -like foam on the ocean went floating by -just as lovely a morning as ever was seen -for a nice little trip in a flying-machine - -thought cunning darius: "now i sha'n't go -along 'ith the fellers to see the show -i'll say i've got sich a terrible cough -an' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off -i'll hev full swing -for to try the thing -an' practyse a leetle on the wing -says brother nate. "no; botheration -my gracious!--feel's though i should fly - -said jotham, "sho -guess ye better go -but darius said, "no -shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though -o' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head -for all the while to himself he said -i'll fly a few times around the lot -to see how 't seems, then soon's i've got -the hang o' the thing, ez likely's not -i'll astonish the nation -and all creation -by flyin' over the celebration -over their heads i'll sail like an eagle -i'll balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull -i'll dance on the chimbleys; i'll stan' on the steeple -i'll flop up to winders an' scare the people -i'll light on the libbe'ty-pole, an' crow -an' i'll say to the gawpin' fools below -that i've come near -fer i'll make 'em believe i'm a chap f'm the moon -an' i'll try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon -he crept from his bed -and, seeing the others were gone, he said -i'm a-gittin' over the cold 'n my head -and away he sped -to open the wonderful box in the shed - -his brothers had walked but a little way -when jotham to nathan chanced to say -er he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day -says burke, "his toothache's all 'n his eye -ef he hedn't some machine to try -le's hurry back and hide in the barn -an' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn -along by the fences, behind the stack -and one by one, through a hole in the wall -in under the dusty barn they crawl -dressed in their sunday garments all -and a very astonishing sight was that -when each in his cobwebbed coat and hat -came up through the floor like an ancient rat -and there they hid -and reuben slid -the fastenings back, and the door undid - -as knights of old put on their mail -from head to foot -an iron suit -iron jacket and iron boot -iron breeches, and on the head -no hat, but an iron pot instead -and under the chin the bail -i believe they called the thing a helm -and the lid they carried they called a shield -and, thus accoutred, they took the field -sallying forth to overwhelm -the dragons and pagans that plagued the realm -so this modern knight -prepared for flight -put on his wings and strapped them tight -jointed and jaunty, strong and light -buckled them fast to shoulder and hip -ten feet they measured from tip to tip -and a helm had he, but that he wore -not on his head like those of yore -but more like the helm of a ship - -he's opened the winder,--i see his head -he stretches it out -an' pokes it about -lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear -an' nobody near -guess he don'o' who's hid in here -he's riggin' a spring-board over the sill -stop laffin', solomon! burke, keep still -he's a climbin' out now--of all the things -what's he got on? i van, it's wings -an' that t'other thing? i vum, it's a tail -an' there he sets like a hawk on a rail -steppin' careful, he travels the length -of his spring-board, and teeters to try its strength -now he stretches his wings, like a monstrous bat -peeks over his shoulder, this way an' that -fer to see 'f the' 's anyone passin' by -but the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh -to see--the dragon! he's goin' to fly -away he goes! jimmmy! what a jump -flop-flop-an' plump -to the ground with a thump -flutt'rin an' flound'rin', all in a lump - -as a demon is hurled by an angel's spear -heels over head, to his proper sphere -heels over head, and head over heels -dizzily down the abyss he wheels -so fell darius. upon his crown -in the midst of the barnyard, he came down -in a wonderful whirl of tangled strings -broken braces and broken springs -broken tail and broken wings -shooting-stars, and various things -away with a bellow fled the calf -and what was that? did the gosling laugh -from the old barn-door -and he hears the voice of jotham crying -slowly, ruefully, where he lay -darius just turned and looked that way -as he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff -he said; "but the' ain't sich a thunder-in' sight -o' fun in 't when ye come to light - - -i just have room for the moral here -and this is the moral,--stick to your sphere -or if you insist, as you have the right -on spreading your wings for a loftier flight -the moral is,--take care how you light - - - -with fingers weary and worn -with eyelids heavy and red -a woman sat, in unwomanly rags -plying her needle and thread -stitch! stitch! stitch -in poverty, hunger and dirt -and still with a voice of dolorous pitch -she sang the "song of the shirt - -while the cock is crowing aloof -and work--work--work -till the stars shine through the roof -it's oh! to be a slave -along with the barbarous turk -where a woman has never a soul to save -if this is christian work - -till the brain begins to swim -work--work--work -till the eyes are heavy and dim -seam, and gusset, and band -band, and gusset, and seam -till over the buttons i fall asleep -and sew them on in a dream - -o men, with mothers and wives -it is not linen you're wearing out -but human creatures' lives -stitch--stitch--stitch -in poverty, hunger, and dirt -sewing at once, with a double thread -a shroud as well as a shirt - -that phantom of grisly bone -i hardly fear his terrible shape -it seems so like my own -it seems so like my own -because of the fasts i keep -o god! that bread should be so dear -and flesh and blood so cheap - -my labor never flags -and what are its wages? a bed of straw -a crust of bread--and rags -that shattered roof--this naked floor -a table--a broken chair -and a wall so blank, my shadow i thank -for sometimes falling there - -from weary chime to chime -work--work--work -as prisoners work for crime -band, and gusset, and seam -seam, and gusset, and band -till the heart is sick and the brain benumbed -as well as the weary hand - -in the dull december light -and work--work--work -when the weather is warm, and bright -while underneath the eaves -the brooding swallows cling -as if to show me their sunny backs -and twit me with the spring - -of the cowslip and primrose sweet -with the sky above my head -and the grass beneath my feet -for only one short hour -to feel as i used to feel -before i knew the woes of want -and the walk that costs a meal - -a respite, however brief -no blessed leisure for love or hope -but only time for grief -a little weeping would ease my heart -but in their briny bed -my tears must stop, for every drop -hinders needle and thread - -with fingers weary and worn -with eyelids heavy and red -a woman sat, in unwomanly rags -plying her needle and thread -stitch! stitch! stitch -in poverty, hunger and dirt -and still with a voice of dolorous pitch -would that its tone could reach the rich -she sang this "song of the shirt - - - -everywhere, everywhere, christmas to-night -christmas in lands of the fir-tree and pine -christmas in lands of the palm-tree and vine -christmas where snow-peaks stand solemn and white -christmas where corn-fields lie sunny and bright -everywhere, everywhere, christmas to-night - -christmas where children are hopeful and gay -christmas where old men are patient and gray -christmas where peace, like a dove in its flight -broods o'er brave men in the thick of the fight -everywhere, everywhere, christmas tonight - -for the christ-child who comes is the master of all -no palace too great and no cottage too small -the angels who welcome him sing from the height -everywhere, everywhere, christmas tonight - -then let every heart keep its christmas within -christ's pity for sorrow, christ's hatred of sin -christ's care for the weakest, christ's courage for right -christ's dread of the darkness, christ's love of the light -everywhere, everywhere, christmas tonight - -so the stars of the midnight which compass us round -shall see a strange glory, and hear a sweet sound -and cry, "look! the earth is aflame with delight -o sons of the morning, rejoice at the sight -everywhere, everywhere, christmas tonight - - - -i bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers -from the seas and the streams -i bear light shade for the leaves when laid -in their noon-day dreams -from my wings are shaken the dews that waken -the sweet buds every one -when rocked to rest on their mother's breast -as she dances about the sun -i wield the flail of the lashing hail -and whiten the green plains under -and then again i dissolve it in rain -and laugh as i pass in thunder - -i sift the snow on the mountains below -and their great pines groan aghast -and all the night 'tis my pillow white -while i sleep in the arms of the blast -sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers -lightning my pilot sits -in a cavern under is fettered the thunder -it struggles and howls at fits -over earth and ocean, with gentle motion -this pilot is guiding me -lured by the love of the genii that move -in the depths of the purple sea -over the rills, and the crags, and the hills -over the lakes and the plains -wherever he dream, under mountain or stream -the spirit he loves remains -and i all the while bask in heaven's blue smile -whilst he is dissolving in rains - -the sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes -and his burning plumes outspread -leaps on the back of my sailing rack -when the morning star shines dead -as on the jag of a mountain crag -which an earthquake rocks and swings -an eagle alit one moment may sit -in the light of its golden wings -and when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath -its ardors of rest and of love -and the crimson pall of eve may fall -from the depth of heaven above -with wings folded i rest, on mine airy nest -as still as a brooding dove - -that orbed maiden, with white fire laden -whom mortals call the moon -glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor -by the midnight breezes strewn -and wherever the beat of her unseen feet -which only the angels hear -may have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof -the stars peep behind her and peer -and i laugh to see them whirl and flee -like a swarm of golden bees -when i widen the rent in my windbuilt tent -till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas -like strips of the sky fallen thro' me on high -are each paved with the moon and these - -i bind the sun's throne with a burning zone -and the moon's with a girdle of pearl -the volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim -when the whirlwinds my banner unfurl -from cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape -over a torrent sea -sunbeam-proof, i hang like a roof -the mountains its columns be -the triumphal arch thro' which i march -with hurricane, fire, and snow -when the powers of the air are chained to my chair -is the million-colored bow -the sphere-fire above its soft colors wove -whilst the moist earth was laughing below - -i am the daughter of earth and water -and the nursling of the sky -i pass thro' the pores of the ocean and shores -i change, but i cannot die -for after the rain, when, with never a stain -the pavilion of heaven is bare -and the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams -build up the blue dome of air -i silently laugh at my own cenotaph -and out of the caverns of rain -like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb -i arise and unbuild it again - - - -hail to thee, blithe spirit -bird thou never wert -that from heaven, or near it -pourest thy full heart -in profuse strains of unpremeditated art - -higher still and higher -from the earth thou springest -like a cloud of fire -the blue deep thou wingest -and singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest - -in the golden lightning -of the sunken sun -o'er which clouds are bright'ning -thou dost float and run -like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun - -the pale purple even -melts around thy flight -like a star of heaven -in the broad daylight -thou art unseen, but yet i hear thy shrill delight - -keen as are the arrows -of that silver sphere -whose intense lamp narrows -in the white dawn clear -until we hardly see, we feel, that it is there - -all the earth and air -with thy voice is loud -as, when night is bare -from one lonely cloud -the moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed - -what thou art we know not -what is most like thee -from rainbow clouds there flow not -drops so bright to see -as from thy presence showers a rain of melody - -like a poet hidden -in the light of thought -singing hymns unbidden -till the world is wrought -to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not - -like a high-born maiden -in a palace-tower -soothing her love-laden -soul in secret hour -with music sweet as love, which overflows her bower - -like a glow-worm golden -in a dell of dew -scattering unbeholden -its aerial hue -among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view - -like a rose embowered -in its own green leaves -by warm winds deflowered -till the scent it gives -makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves - -sound of vernal showers -on the twinkling grass -rain-awakened flowers -all that ever was -joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass - -teach us, sprite or bird -what sweet thoughts are thine -i have never heard -praise of love or wine -that panted forth a flood of rapture so divine - -chorus hymeneal -or triumphal chaunt -matched with thine would be all -but an empty vaunt -a thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want - -what objects are the fountains -of thy happy strain -what fields, or waves, or mountains -what shapes of sky or plain -what love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain - -with thy clear keen joyance -languor cannot be -shadow of annoyance -never came near thee -thou lovest: but ne'er knew love's sad satiety - -waking or asleep -thou of death must deem -things more true and deep -than we mortals dream -or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream - -we look before and after -and pine for what is not -our sincerest laughter -with some pain is fraught -our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought - -yet if we could scorn -hate, and pride, and fear -if we were things born -not to a shed a tear -i know not how thy joy we ever should come near - -better than all measures -of delightful sound -better than all treasures -that in books are found -thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground - -teach me half the gladness -that thy brain must know -such harmonious madness -from my lips would flow -the world should listen then, as i am listening now - - - -i come from haunts of coot and hern -i make a sudden sally -and sparkle out among the fern -to bicker down a valley - -by thirty hills i hurry down -or slip between the ridges -by twenty thorps, a little town -and half a hundred bridges - -till last by philip's farm i flow -to join the brimming river -for men may come and men may go -but i go on forever - -i chatter over stony ways -in little sharps and trebles -i bubble into eddying bays -i babble on the pebbles - -with many a curve my banks i fret -by many a field and fallow -and many a fairy foreland set -with willow-weed and mallow - -i chatter, chatter as i flow -to join the brimming river -for men may come and men may go -but i go on forever - -i wind about, and in and out -with here a blossom sailing -and here and there a lusty trout -and here and there a grayling - -and here and there a foamy flake -upon me as i travel -with many a silvery waterbreak -above the golden gravel - -and draw them all along, and flow -to join the brimming river -for men may come and men may go -but i go on forever - -i steal by lawns and grassy plots -i slide by hazel covers -i move the sweet forget-me-nots -that grow for happy lovers - -i slip, i slide, i gloom, i glance -among my skimming swallows -i make the netted sunbeam dance -against my sandy shallows - -i murmur under moon and stars -in brambly wildernesses -i linger by my shingly bars -i loiter round my cresses - -and out again i curve and flow -to join the brimming river -for men may come and men may go -but i go on forever - - - - -no price is set on the lavish summer -june may be had by the poorest comer - -and what is so rare as a day in june -then, if ever, come perfect days -then heaven tries earth if it be in tune -and over it softly her warm ear lays -whether we look, or whether we listen -we hear life murmur, or see it glisten -every clod feels a stir of might -an instinct within it that reaches and towers -and, groping blindly above it for light -climbs to a soul in grass and flowers -the flush of life may well be seen -thrilling back over hills and valleys -the cowslip startles in meadows green -the buttercup catches the sun in its chalice -and there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean -to be some happy creature's palace -the little bird sits at his door in the sun -atilt like a blossom among the leaves -and lets his illumined being o'errun -with the deluge of summer it receives -his mate feels the eggs beneath her wings -and the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings -he sings to the wide world, and she to her nest -in the nice ear of nature, which song is the best - -now is the high-tide of the year -and whatever of life hath ebbed away -comes flooding back, with a ripply cheer -into every bare inlet and creek and bay -now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it -we are happy now because god wills it -no matter how barren the past may have been -we sit in the warm shade and feel right well -how the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell -we may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing -that skies are clear and grass is growing -the breeze comes whispering in our ear -that dandelions are blossoming near -that maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing -that the river is bluer than the sky -that the robin is plastering his house hard by -and if the breeze kept the good news back -for other couriers we should not lack -we could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing -and hark! how clear bold chanticleer -warmed with the new wine of the year -tells all in his lusty crowing - -joy comes, grief goes, we know not how -everything is happy now -everything is upward striving -as for grass to be green or skies to be blue -who knows whither the clouds have fled -in the unscarred heaven they leave no wake -and the eyes forget the tears they have shed -the heart forgets its sorrow and ache -the soul partakes the season's youth -and the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe -lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth -like burnt-out craters healed with snow - - - -come, let us plant the apple-tree -cleave the tough greensward with the spade -wide let its hollow bed be made -there gently lay the roots, and there -sift the dark mould with kindly care -and press it o'er them tenderly -as round the sleeping infant's feet -we softly fold the cradle-sheet -so plant we the apple tree - -what plant we in this apple-tree -buds, which the breath of summer days -shall lengthen into leafy sprays -boughs where the thrush with crimson breast -shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest -we plant, upon the sunny lea -a shadow for the noontide hour -a shelter from the summer shower -when we plant the apple-tree - -what plant we in this apple-tree -sweets for a hundred flowery springs -to load the may-wind's restless wings -when, from the orchard row, he pours -its fragrance through our open doors -a world of blossoms for the bee -flowers for the sick girl's silent room -for the glad infant sprigs of bloom -we plant with the apple-tree - -what plant we in this apple-tree -fruits that shall swell in sunny june -and redden in the august noon -and drop, when gentle airs come by -that fan the blue september sky -while children come, with cries of glee -and seek them where the fragrant grass -betrays their bed to those who pass -at the foot of the apple tree - -and when, above this apple tree -the winter stars are quivering bright -and winds go howling through the night -girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth -shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth -and guests in prouder homes shall see -heaped with the grape of cintra's vine -and golden orange of the line -the fruit of the apple-tree - -the fruitage of this apple-tree -winds, and our flag of stripe and star -shall bear to coasts that lie afar -where men shall wonder at the view -and ask in what fair groves they grew -and sojourners beyond the sea -shall think of childhood's careless day -and long, long hours of summer play -in the shade of the apple-tree - -each year shall give this apple-tree -a broader flush of roseate bloom -a deeper maze of verdurous gloom -and loosen, when the frost-clouds lower -the crisp brown leaves in thicker shower -the years shall come and pass, but we -shall hear no longer, where we lie -the summer's songs, the autumn's sigh -in the boughs of the apple-tree - -and time shall waste this apple tree -oh, when its aged branches throw -thin shadows on the ground below -shall fraud and force and iron will -oppress the weak and helpless still -what shall the tasks of mercy be -amid the toils, the strifes, the tears -of those who live when length of years -is wasting this apple-tree - -the children of that distant day -thus to some aged man shall say -and, gazing on its mossy stem -the gray-haired man shall answer them -born in the rude but good old times -on planting the apple-tree - - - -who is the happy warrior? who is he -that every man in arms should wish to be -among the tasks of real life, hath wrought -upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought -whose high endeavors are an inward light -that makes the path before him always bright -who, with a natural instinct to discern -what knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn -abides by this resolve, and stops not there -but makes his moral being his prime care -who, doomed to go in company with pain -and fear, and bloodshed, miserable train -turns his necessity to glorious gain -in face of these doth exercise a power -which is our human nature's highest dower -controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves -of their bad influence, and their good receives -by objects, which might force the soul to abate -her feeling, rendered more compassionate -is placable--because occasions rise -so often that demand such sacrifice -more skillful in self-knowledge, even more pure -as tempted more; more able to endure -as more exposed to suffering and distress -thence also, more alive to tenderness -upon that law as on the best of friends -whence, in a state where men are tempted still -to evil for a guard against worse ill -and what in quality or act is best -doth seldom on a right foundation rest -he labors good on good to fix, and owes -to virtue every triumph that he knows -rises by open means; and there will stand -on honorable terms, or else retire -and in himself possess his own desire -who comprehends his trust, and to the same -keeps faithful with a singleness of aim -and therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait -for wealth, or honors, or for worldly state -whom they must follow; on whose head must fall -like showers of manna, if they come at all -whose powers shed round him in the common strife -or mild concerns of ordinary life -a constant influence, a peculiar grace -but who, if he be called upon to face -some awful moment to which heaven has joined -great issues, good or bad for human kind -is happy as a lover; and attired -with sudden brightness, like a man inspired -and, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law -in calmness made, and sees what he foresaw -or if an unexpected call succeed -come when it will, is equal to the need -and faculty for storm and turbulence -is yet a soul whose master-bias leans -to homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes -sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be -are at his heart; and such fidelity -it is his darling passion to approve -more brave for this, that he hath much to love -conspicuous object in a nation's eye -or left unthought-of in obscurity -who, with a toward or untoward lot -prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not -plays, in the many games of life, that one -where what he most doth value must be won -whom neither shape of danger can dismay -nor thought of tender happiness betray -who, not content that former worth stand fast -looks forward, persevering to the last -from well to better, daily self-surpast -who, whether praise of him must walk the earth -forever, and to noble deeds give birth -or he must fall, to sleep without his fame -and leave a dead unprofitable name -finds comfort in himself and in his cause -and, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws -his breath in confidence of heaven's applause -this is the happy warrior; this is he -that every man in arms should wish to be - - - -half a league, half a league -half a league onward -all in the valley of death -rode the six hundred -charge for the guns," he said -into the valley of death -rode the six hundred - -was there a man dismay'd -not tho' the soldier knew -some one had blunder'd -theirs not to make reply -theirs not to reason why -theirs but to do and die -into the valley of death -rode the six hundred - -cannon to right of them -cannon to left of them -cannon in front of them -volley'd and thunder'd -storm'd at with shot and shell -boldly they rode and well -into the jaws of death -into the mouth of hell -rode the six hundred - -flash'd all their sabres bare -flash'd as they turn'd in air -sabring the gunners there -charging an army, while -all the world wonder'd -plung'd in the battery-smoke -right thro' the line they broke -cossack and russian -reel'd from the sabre-stroke -shatter'd and sunder'd -then they rode back, but not -not the six hundred - -cannon to right of them -cannon to left of them -cannon behind them -volley'd and thunder'd -storm'd at with shot and shell -while horse and hero fell -they that had fought so well -came thro' the jaws of death -back from the mouth of hell -all that was left of them -left of six hundred - -when can their glory fade -o the wild charge they made -all the world wonder'd -honor the charge they made -honor the light brigade -noble six hundred - - - -october 19, 1864 - -up from the south at break of day -bringing to winchester fresh dismay -the affrighted air with a shudder bore -like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door -the terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar -telling the battle was on once more -and sheridan--twenty miles away - -and wider still those billows of war -thundered along the horizon's bar -and louder yet into winchester rolled -the roar of that red sea uncontrolled -making the blood of the listener cold -as he thought of the stake in that fiery fray -and sheridan--twenty miles away - -but there is a road from winchester town -a good broad highway leading down -and there, through the flush of the morning light -a steed, as black as the steeds of night -was seen to pass, as with eagle flight -as if he knew the terrible need -he stretched away with the utmost speed -hills rose and fell--but his heart was gay -with sheridan fifteen miles away - -still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south -the dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth -or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster -foreboding to foemen the doom of disaster -the heart of the steed and the heart of the master -were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls -impatient to be where the battle-field calls -every nerve of the charger was strained to full play -with sheridan only ten miles away - -under his spurning feet the road -like an arrowy alpine river flowed -and the landscape sped away behind -like an ocean flying before the wind -and the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire -swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire -but lo! he is nearing his heart's desire -he is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray -with sheridan only five miles away - -the first that the general saw were the groups -of stragglers, and then the retreating troops -what was done? what to do? a glance told him both -then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath -he dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas -and the wave of retreat checked its course there, because -the sight of the master compelled it to pause -with foam and with dust the black charger was gray -by the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play -he seemed to the whole great army to say -from winchester down to save the day - -hurrah, hurrah for sheridan -hurrah, hurrah for horse and man -and when their statues are placed on high -under the dome of the union sky -the american soldier's temple of fame -there, with the glorious general's name -be it said in letters both bold and bright -by carrying sheridan into the fight -from winchester--twenty miles away - - - -o little town of bethlehem -how still we see thee lie -above thy deep and dreamless sleep -the silent stars go by -yet in thy dark streets shineth -the everlasting light -the hopes and fears of all the years -are met in thee to-night - -for christ is born of mary -and, gathered all above -while mortals sleep, the angels keep -their watch of wondering love -o morning stars, together -proclaim the holy birth -and praises sing to god the king -and peace to men on earth - -how silently, how silently -the wondrous gift is given -so god imparts to human hearts -the blessings of his heaven -no ear may hear his coming -but in this world of sin -where meek souls will receive him still -the dear christ enters in - -o holy child of bethlehem -descend to us, we pray -cast out our sin, and enter in -be born in us to-day -we hear the christmas angels -the great glad tidings tell -oh, come to us, abide with us -our lord emmanuel - - - -this is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign -sails the unshadowed main -the venturous bark that flings -on the sweet summer wind its purpled wings -in gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings -and coral reefs lie bare -where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair - -its webs of living gauze no more unfurl -wrecked is the ship of pearl -and every chambered cell -where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell -as the frail tenant shaped his growing shell -before thee lies revealed -its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed - -year after year beheld the silent toil -that spread his lustrous coil -still, as the spiral grew -he left the past year's dwelling for the new -stole with soft step its shining archway through -built up its idle door -stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more - -thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee -child of the wandering sea -cast from her lap, forlorn -from thy dead lips a clearer note is born -than ever triton blew from wreathed horn -while on mine ear it rings -through the deep caves of thought i hear a voice that sings - -build thee more stately mansions, o my soul -as the swift seasons roll -leave thy low-vaulted past -let each new temple, nobler than the last -shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast -till thou at length art free -leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea - - - -true worth is in _being_, not _seeming -in doing, each day that goes by -some little good--not in dreaming -of great things to do by and by -for whatever men say in their blindness -and spite of the fancies of youth -there's nothing so kingly as kindness -and nothing so royal as truth - -we get back our mete as we measure -we cannot do wrong and feel right -nor can we give pain and gain pleasure -for justice avenges each slight -the air for the wing of the sparrow -the bush for the robin and wren -but alway the path that is narrow -and straight, for the children of men - -the heart of its ills to beguile -though he who makes courtship to glory -gives all that he hath for her smile -for when from her heights he has won her -alas! it is only to prove -that nothing's so sacred as honor -and nothing so loyal as love - -we cannot make bargains for blisses -nor catch them like fishes in nets -and sometimes the thing our life misses -helps more than the thing which it gets -for good lieth not in pursuing -nor gaining of great nor of small -but just in the doing, and doing -as we would be done by, is all - -through envy, through malice, through hating -against the world, early and late -no jot of our courage abating -our part is to work and to wait -and slight is the sting of his trouble -whose winnings are less than his worth -for he who is honest is noble -whatever his fortunes or birth - - - -who has seen the wind -neither i nor you -but when the leaves hang trembling -the wind is passing through - -who has seen the wind -but when the trees bow down their heads -the wind is passing by - - - -the owl and the pussy-cat went to sea -in a beautiful pea-green boat -they took some honey, and plenty of money -wrapped up in a five-pound note -the owl looked up to the moon above -and sang to a small guitar -what a beautiful pussy you are -you are -what a beautiful pussy you are - -pussy said to the owl, "you elegant fowl -how wonderful sweet you sing -oh, let us be married,--too long we have tarried -but what shall we do for a ring -they sailed away for a year and a day -to the land where the bong-tree grows -and there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood -with a ring in the end of his nose -his nose -with a ring in the end of his nose - -your ring?" said the piggy, "i will -so they took it away, and were married next day -by the turkey who lives on the hill -they dined upon mince and slices of quince -which they ate with a runcible spoon -and hand in hand on the edge of the sand -they danced by the light of the moon -the moon -they danced by the light of the moon - - - -the frost looked forth one still, clear night -and whispered, "now i shall be out of sight -so through the valley and over the height -in silence i'll take my way -i will not go on like that blustering train -the wind and the snow, the hail and the rain -that make so much bustle and noise in vain -but i'll be as busy as they - -so he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest -he lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest -in diamond beads--and over the breast -of the quivering lake he spread -a coat of mail, that it need not fear -the downward point of many a spear -that he hung on its margin, far and near -where a rock could rear its head - -he went to the windows of those who slept -and over each pane like a fairy crept -wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped -by the light of the morn were seen -most beautiful things; there were flowers and trees -there were bevies of birds and swarms of bees -there were cities with temples and towers; and these -all pictured in silver sheen - -but he did one thing that was hardly fair -he peeped in the cupboard, and finding there -that all had forgotten for him to prepare -i'll bite this basket of fruit," said he -and the glass of water they've left for me -shall 'tchick!' to tell them i'm drinking - - - -heap high the farmer's wintry hoard -heap high the golden corn -no richer gift has autumn poured -from out her lavish horn - -let other lands, exulting, glean -the apple from the pine -the orange from its glossy green -the cluster from the vine - -we better love the hardy gift -our rugged vales bestow -to cheer us when the storm shall drift -our harvest-fields with snow - -through vales of grass and meads of flowers -our plows their furrows made -while on the hills the sun and showers -of changeful april played - -we dropped the seed o'er hill and plain -beneath the sun of may -and frightened from our sprouting grain -the robber crows away - -all through the long, bright days of june -its leaves grew green and fair -and waved in hot midsummer's noon -its soft and yellow hair - -and now, with autumn's moonlit eyes -its harvest time has come -we pluck away the frosted leaves -and bear the treasure home - -there, richer than the fabled gift -apollo showered of old -fair hands the broken grain shall sift -and knead its meal of gold - -let vapid idlers loll in silk -around their costly board -give us the bowl of samp and milk -by homespun beauty poured - -where'er the wide old kitchen hearth -sends up its smoky curls -who will not thank the kindly earth -and bless our farmer girls - -then shame on all the proud and vain -whose folly laughs to scorn -the blessing of our hardy grain -our wealth of golden corn - -let earth withhold her goodly root -let mildew blight her rye -give to the worm the orchard's fruit -the wheat-field to the fly - -but let the good old crop adorn -the hills our fathers trod -still let us, for his golden corn -send up our thanks to god - - - -when i consider how my light is spent -ere half my days, in this dark world and wide -and that one talent which is death to hide -lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent -to serve therewith my maker, and present -my true account, lest he, returning, chide -i fondly ask. but patience, to prevent -that murmur, soon replies, "god doth not need -either man's work or his own gifts. who best -bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. his state -is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed -and post o'er land and ocean without rest -they also serve who only stand and wait - - - -where the pools are bright and deep -where the gray trout lies asleep -up the river and o'er the lea -that's the way for billy and me - -where the blackbird sings the latest -where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest -where the nestlings chirp and flee -that's the way for billy and me - -where the mowers mow the cleanest -where the hay lies thick and greenest -there to trace the homeward bee -that's the way for billy and me - -where the hazel bank is steepest -where the shadow falls the deepest -where the clustering nuts fall free -that's the way for billy and me - -why the boys should drive away -little sweet maidens from their play -or love to banter and fight so well -that's the thing i never could tell - -but this i know, i love to play -through the meadow, among the hay -up the water and o'er the lea -that's the way for billy and me - - - -the leaves are fading and falling -the winds are rough and wild -the birds have ceased their calling -but let me tell you, my child - -though day by day, as it closes -doth darker and colder grow -the roots of the bright red roses -will keep alive in the snow - -and when the winter is over -the boughs will get new leaves -the quail come back to the clover -and the swallow back to the eaves - -there must be rough, cold weather -and winds and rains so wild -not all good things together -come to us here, my child - -so, when some dear joy loses -its beauteous summer glow -think how the roots of the roses -are kept alive in the snow - - - -what does little birdie say -in her nest at peep of day -till the little wings are stronger -so she rests a little longer -then she flies away - -what does little baby say -in her bed at peep of day -baby says, like little birdie -till the little limbs are stronger -if she sleeps a little longer -baby, too, shall fly away - - - -up the airy mountain -down the rushy glen -we daren't go a-hunting -for fear of little men -wee folk, good folk -trooping all together -green jacket, red cap -and white owl's feather - -down along the rocky shore -some make their home -they live on crispy pancakes -of yellow tide foam -some in the reeds -of the black mountain-lake -with frogs for their watch dogs -all night awake - -high on the hill-top -the old king sits -he is now so old and gray -he's nigh lost his wits -with a bridge of white mist -columbkill he crosses -on his stately journeys -from slieveleague to rosses -or going up with music -on cold, starry nights -to sup with the queen -of the gay northern lights - -by the craggy hillside -through the mosses bare -they have planted thorn trees -for pleasure here and there -is any man so daring -as dig them up in spite -he shall find their sharpest thorns -in his bed at night - -up the airy mountain -down the rushy glen -we daren't go a-hunting -for fear of little men -wee folk, good folk -trooping all together -green jacket, red cap -and white owl's feather - - - -great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world -with the wonderful water round you curled -and the wonderful grass upon your breast -world, you are beautifully drest - -the wonderful air is over me -and the wonderful wind is shaking the tree -it walks on the water, and whirls the mills -and talks to itself on the top of the hills - -you friendly earth, how far do you go -with the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow -with cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles -and people upon you for thousands of miles - -ah! you are so great, and i am so small -i hardly can think of you, world, at all -and yet, when i said my prayers today -a whisper within me seemed to say -you can love and think, and the earth can not - - - -be strong -we are not here to play, to dream, to drift -we have hard work to do, and loads to lift -shun not the struggle--face it; 'tis god's gift - -be strong -say not, "the days are evil. who's to blame -and fold the hands and acquiesce--oh shame -stand up, speak out, and bravely, in god's name - -be strong -it matters not how deep intrenched the wrong -how hard the battle goes, the day how long -faint not--fight on! to-morrow comes the song - - - -when cats run home and light is come -and dew is cold upon the ground -and the far-off stream is dumb -and the whirring sail goes round -and the whirring sail goes round -alone and warming his five wits -the white owl in the belfry sits - -when merry milkmaids click the latch -and rarely smells the new-mown hay -and the cock hath sung beneath the thatch -twice or thrice his roundelay -twice or thrice his roundelay -alone and warming his five wits -the white owl in the belfry sits - - - -fame, love and fortune on my footsteps wait -cities and fields i walk: i penetrate -deserts and fields remote, and, passing by -hovel and mart and palace, soon or late -i knock unbidden once at every gate -if sleeping, wake: if feasting, rise before -i turn away. it is the hour of fate -and they who follow me reach every state -mortals desire, and conquer every foe -save death; but those who doubt or hesitate -condemned to failure, penury and woe -seek me in vain and uselessly implore -i answer not, and i return no more - - - -they do me wrong who say i come no more -when once i knock and fail to find you in -for every day i stand outside your door -and bid you wake and rise to fight and win - -wail not for precious chances passed away -weep not for golden ages on the wane -each night i burn the records of the day -at sunrise every soul is born again - -laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped -to vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb -my judgments seal the dead past with its dead -but never bind a moment yet to come - -though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep -i lend an arm to all who say: "i can -no shamefac'd outcast ever sank so deep -but yet might rise and be again a man - -dost thou behold thy lost youth all aghast -dost reel from righteous retribution's blow -then turn from blotted archives of the past -and find the future's pages white as snow - -art thou a mourner? rouse thee from thy spell -art thou a sinner? sins may be forgiven -each morning gives thee wings to flee from hell -each night a star to guide thy feet to heaven - - - - -sweet and low, sweet and low -wind of the western sea -low, low, breathe and blow -wind of the western sea -over the rolling waters go -come from the dying moon, and blow -blow him again to me -while my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps - -sleep and rest, sleep and rest -father will come to thee soon -rest, rest, on mother's breast -father will come to thee soon -father will come to his babe in the nest -silver sails all out of the west -under the silver moon -sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep - - - -blessings on thee, little man -barefoot boy, with cheek of tan -with thy turned-up pantaloons -and thy merry whistled tunes -with thy red lip, redder still -kissed by strawberries on the hill -with the sunshine on thy face -through thy torn brim's jaunty grace -from, my heart i give thee joy -i was once a barefoot boy -prince thou art,--the grown-up man -only is republican -let the million-dollared ride -barefoot, trudging at his side -thou hast more than he can buy -in the reach of ear and eye -outward sunshine, inward joy -blessings on thee, barefoot boy - -o for boyhood's painless play -sleep that wakes in laughing day -health that mocks the doctor's rules -knowledge never learned of schools -of the wild bee's morning chase -of the wild-flower's time and place -flight of fowl and habitude -of the tenants of the wood -how the tortoise bears his shell -how the woodchuck digs his cell -and the ground-mole sinks his well -how the robin feeds her young -how the oriole's nest is hung -where the whitest lilies blow -where the freshest berries grow -where the groundnut trails its vine -where the wood-grape's clusters shine -of the black wasp's cunning way -mason of his walls of clay -and the architectural plans -of gray hornet artisans -for, eschewing books and tasks -nature answers all he asks -hand in hand with her he walks -face to face with her he talks -part and parcel of her joy -blessings on the barefoot boy - -o for boyhood's time of june -crowding years in one brief moon -when all things i heard or saw -me, their master, waited for -i was rich in flowers and trees -humming-birds and honey-bees -for my sport the squirrel played -plied the snouted mole his spade -for my taste the blackberry cone -purpled over hedge and stone -laughed the brook for my delight -through the day and through the night -whispering at the garden wall -talked with me from fall to fall -mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond -mine the walnut slopes beyond -mine, on bending orchard trees -apples of hesperides -still as my horizon grew -larger grew my riches too -all the world i saw or knew -seemed a complex chinese toy -fashioned for a barefoot boy - -o for festal dainties spread -like my bowl of milk and bread -pewter spoon and bowl of wood -on the door-stone, gray and rude -o'er me, like a regal tent -cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent -purple-curtained, fringed with gold -looped in many a wind-swung fold -while for music came the play -of the pied frogs' orchestra -and, to light the noisy choir -lit the fly his lamp of fire -i was monarch: pomp and joy -waited on the barefoot boy - -cheerily, then, my little man -live and laugh, as boyhood can -though the flinty slopes be hard -stubble-speared the new-mown sward -every morn shall lead thee through -fresh baptisms of the dew -every evening from thy feet -shall the cool wind kiss the heat -all too soon these feet must hide -in the prison cells of pride -lose the freedom of the sod -like a colt's for work be shod -made to tread the mills of toil -up and down in ceaseless moil -happy if their track be found -never on forbidden ground -happy if they sink not in -quick and treacherous sands of sin -ah! that thou couldst know thy joy -ere it passes, barefoot boy - - - - -there,--my blessing with you -and these few precepts in thy memory -see thou character.--give thy thoughts no tongue -nor any unproportion'd thought his act -be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar -the friends thou hast, and their adoption tried -grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel -but do not dull thy palm with entertainment -of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. beware -of entrance to a quarrel; but being in -bear't that the opposed may beware of thee -give every man thine ear, but few thy voice -take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment -costly thy habit as thy purse can buy -but not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy -for the apparel oft proclaims the man -neither a borrower nor a lender be -for loan oft loses both itself and friend -and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry -this above all: to thine own self be true -and it must follow, as the night the day -thou canst not then be false to any man - - - -the mountain and the squirrel -had a quarrel -and the former called the latter "little prig -bun replied -but all sorts of things and weather -must be taken in together -to make up a year -and a sphere -and i think it no disgrace -to occupy my place -if i'm not so large as you -and not half as spry -i'll not deny you make -a very pretty squirrel track -talents differ; all is well and wisely put -if i cannot carry forests on my back -neither can you crack a nut - - - -suppose, my little lady -your doll should break her head -could you make it whole by crying -till your eyes and nose are red -and wouldn't it be pleasanter -to treat it as a joke -and say you're glad "'twas dolly's -and not your head that broke - -suppose you're dressed for walking -and the rain comes pouring down -will it clear off any sooner -because you scold and frown -and wouldn't it be nicer -for you to smile than pout -and so make sunshine in the house -when there is none without - -suppose your task, my little man -is very hard to get -will it make it any easier -for you to sit and fret -and wouldn't it be wiser -than waiting like a dunce -to go to work in earnest -and learn the thing at once - -suppose that some boys have a horse -and some a coach and pair -will it tire you less while walking -to say, "it isn't fair -and wouldn't it be nobler -to keep your temper sweet -and in your heart be thankful -you can walk upon your feet - -and suppose the world don't please you -nor the way some people do -do you think the whole creation -will be altered just for you -and isn't it, my boy or girl -the wisest, bravest plan -whatever comes, or doesn't come -to do the best you can - - - -i like little pussy -her coat is so warm -and if i don't hurt her -she'll do me no harm -so i'll not pull her tail -nor drive her away -very gently will play -she shall sit by my side -and i'll give her some food -and she'll love me because -i am gentle and good - -i'll pat little pussy -and then she will purr -and thus show her thanks -for my kindness to her -i'll not pinch her ears -nor tread on her paw -lest i should provoke her -to use her sharp claw -i never will vex her -nor make her displeased -for pussy don't like -to be worried or teased - - - -over the river and through the wood -to grandfather's house we go -the horse knows the way -to carry the sleigh -through the white and drifted snow - -over the river and through the wood -oh, how the wind does blow -it stings the toes -and bites the nose -as over the ground we go - -over the river and through the wood -trot fast, my dapple gray -spring over the ground -like a hunting hound -for this is thanksgiving-day - -over the river and through the wood -and straight through the barnyard gate -we seem to go -extremely slow -it is so hard to wait - -over the river and through the wood -now grandmother's cap i spy -hurrah for the fun -is the pudding done -hurrah for the pumpkin pie - - - -i wandered lonely as a cloud -that floats on high o'er vales and hills -when all at once i saw a crowd -a host, of golden daffodils -beside the lake, beneath the trees -fluttering and dancing in the breeze - -continuous as the stars that shine -and twinkle on the milky way -they stretched in never-ending line -along the margin of a bay -ten thousand saw i at a glance -tossing their heads in sprightly dance - -the waves beside them danced; but they -outdid the sparkling waves in glee -a poet could not but be gay -in such a jocund company -i gazed--and gazed--but little thought -what wealth the show to me had brought - -for oft, when on my couch i lie -in vacant or in pensive mood -they flash upon that inward eye -which is the bliss of solitude -and then my heart with pleasure fills -and dances with the daffodils - - - -i've watched you now a full half-hour -self-poised upon that yellow flower -and, little butterfly! indeed -i know not if you sleep or feed -more motionless! and then -how motionless!--not frozen seas -what joy awaits you, when the breeze -hath found you out among the trees -and calls you forth again -this plot of orchard-ground is ours -my trees they are, my sister's flowers -here rest your wings when they are weary -here lodge as in a sanctuary -come often to us, fear no wrong -sit near us on the bough -we'll talk of sunshine and of song -and summer days when we were young -sweet childish days, that were as long -as twenty days are now - - - -thou blossom bright with autumn dew -and colored with the heaven's own blue -that openest when the quiet light -succeeds the keen and frosty night - -thou comest not when violets lean -o'er wandering brooks and springs unseen -or columbines, in purple dressed -nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest - -thou waitest late and com'st alone -when woods are bare and birds are flown -and frosts and shortening days portend -the aged year is near his end - -then doth thy sweet and quiet eye -look through its fringes to the sky -blue--blue--as if that sky let fall -a flower from its cerulean wall - -i would that thus, when i shall see -the hour of death draw near to me -hope, blossoming within my heart -may look to heaven as i depart - - - -the outer trenches guarding -when the heated guns of the camps allied -grew weary of bombarding - -the dark redan, in silent scoff -lay, grim and threatening, under -and the tawny mound of the malakoff -no longer belched its thunder - -there was a pause. a guardsman said -sing while we may, another day -will bring enough of sorrow - -they lay along the battery's side -below the smoking cannon -brave hearts, from severn and from clyde -and from the banks of shannon - -they sang of love, and not of fame -forgot was britain's glory -each heart recalled a different name -but all sang "annie laurie - -voice after voice caught up the song -until its tender passion -rose like an anthem, rich and strong -their battle-eve confession - -dear girl, her name he dared not speak -but, as the song grew louder -something upon the soldier's cheek -washed off the stains of powder - -beyond the darkening ocean burned -the bloody sunset's embers -while the crimean valleys learned -how english love remembers - -and once again a fire of hell -rained on the russian quarters -with scream of shot, and burst of shell -and bellowing of the mortars - -and irish nora's eyes are dim -for a singer, dumb and gory -and english mary mourns for him -who sang of "annie laurie - -sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest -your truth and valor wearing -the bravest are the tenderest -the loving are the daring - - - -she walks in beauty, like the night -of cloudless climes and starry skies -and all that's best of dark and bright -meet in her aspect and her eyes -thus mellowed to that tender light -which heaven to gaudy day denies - -one shade the more, one ray the less -had half impaired the nameless grace -which waves in every raven tress -or softly lightens o'er her face -where thoughts serenely sweet express -how pure, how dear their dwelling-place - -and on that cheek, and o'er that brow -so soft, so calm, yet eloquent -the smiles that win, the tints that glow -but tell of days in goodness spent -a mind at peace with all below -a heart whose love is innocent - - - -all are architects of fate -working in these walls of time -some with massive deeds and great -some with ornaments of rhyme - -nothing useless is, or low -each thing in its place is best -and what seems but idle show -strengthens and supports the rest - -for the structure that we raise -time is with materials filled -our to-days and yesterdays -are the blocks with which we build - -truly shape and fashion these -leave no yawning gaps between -think not, because no man sees -such things will remain unseen - -in the elder days of art -builders wrought with greatest care -each minute and unseen part -for the gods see everywhere - -let us do our work as well -both the unseen and the seen -make the house, where gods may dwell -beautiful, entire, and clean - -else our lives are incomplete -standing in these walls of time -broken stairways, where the feet -stumble as they seek to climb - -build to-day, then, strong and sure -with a firm and ample base -and ascending and secure -shall to-morrow find its place - -thus alone can we attain -to those turrets, where the eye -sees the world as one vast plain -and one boundless reach of sky - - - -there's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree -he's singing to me! he's singing to me -and what does he say, little girl, little boy -don't you hear? don't you see -hush! look! in my tree -i'm as happy as happy can be - -and the brown thrush keeps singing, "a nest do you see -and five eggs hid by me in the juniper tree -don't meddle! don't touch! little girl, little boy -or the world will lose some of its joy -now i'm glad! now i'm free -and i always shall be -if you never bring sorrow to me - -so the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree -to you and to me, to you and to me -and he sings all the day, little girl, little boy -but long it won't be -don't you know? don't you see -unless we are as good as can be - - - - -the quality of mercy is not strain'd -it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven -upon the place beneath. it is twice bless'd -it blesseth him that gives and him that takes -the throned monarch better than his crown -his sceptre shows the force of temporal power -the attribute to awe and majesty -wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings -but mercy is above this sceptred sway -it is enthroned in the hearts of kings -it is an attribute to god himself -and earthly power doth then show likest god's -when mercy seasons justice. therefore, jew -though justice be thy plea, consider this -that, in the course of justice, none of us -should see salvation: we do pray for mercy -and that same prayer doth teach us all to render -the deeds of mercy - - - -if you've tried and have not won -never stop for crying -all's that's great and good is done -just by patient trying - -though young birds, in flying, fall -still their wings grow stronger -and the next time they can keep -up a little longer - -though the sturdy oak has known -many a blast that bowed her -she has risen again, and grown -loftier and prouder - -if by easy work you beat -who the more will prize you -gaining victory from defeat -that's the test that tries you - - - -you know we french stormed ratisbon -a mile or so away -on a little mound, napoleon -stood on our storming-day -with neck out-thrust, you fancy how -legs wide, arms locked behind -as if to balance the prone brow -oppressive with its mind -just as perhaps he mused, "my plans -that soar, to earth may fall -let once my army-leader lannes -waver at yonder wall -out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew -a rider, bound on bound -full-galloping; nor bridle drew -until he reached the mound - -then off there flung in smiling joy -and held himself erect -by just his horse's mane, a boy -you hardly could suspect -scarce any blood came through -you looked twice ere you saw his breast -was all but shot in two - -we've got you ratisbon -the marshall's in the market-place -and you'll be there anon -to see your flag-bird flap his vans -where i, to heart's desire -perched him!" the chief's eye flashed; his plans -soared up again like fire - -the chief's eye flashed; but presently -softened itself, as sheathes -a film the mother-eagle's eye -when her bruised eaglet breathes -touched to the quick, he said -smiling, the boy fell dead - - - - -the splendor falls on castle walls -and snowy summits old in story -the long light shakes across the lakes -and the wild cataract leaps in glory -blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying -blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying - -o hark, o hear! how thin and clear -and thinner, clearer, farther going -the horns of elfland faintly blowing -blow, let us hear the purple glens replying -blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying - -o love, they die in yon rich sky -they faint on hill or field or river -our echoes roll from soul to soul -and grow for ever and for ever -blow bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying -and answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying - - - - -they say that god lives very high -but if you look above the pines -you cannot see our god; and why - -and if you dig down in the mines -you never see him in the gold -though from him all that's glory shines - -god is so good, he wears a fold -of heaven and earth across his face -like secrets kept for love untold - -but still i feel that his embrace -slides down by thrills through all things made -through sight and sound of every place - -as if my tender mother laid -on my shut lips her kisses' pressure -half waking me at night, and said - - - -by the flow of the inland river -where the fleets of iron have fled -where the blades of grave grass quiver -asleep are the ranks of the dead -under the sod and the dew -waiting the judgment day -under the one, the blue -under the other, the gray - -these in the robings of glory -those in the gloom of defeat -all, with the battle blood gory -in the dusk of eternity meet -under the sod and the dew -waiting the judgment day -under the laurel, the blue -under the willow, the gray - -from the silence of sorrowful hours -the desolate mourners go -lovingly laden with flowers -alike for the friend and the foe -under the sod and the dew -waiting the judgment day -under the roses, the blue -under the lilies, the gray - -so with an equal splendor -the morning sun-rays fall -with a touch impartially tender -on the blossoms blooming for all -under the sod and the dew -waiting the judgment day -mellowed with gold, the gray - -so, when the summer calleth -on forest and field of grain -with an equal murmur falleth -the cooling drip of the rain -under the sod and the dew -waiting the judgment day -wet with the rain, the blue -wet with the rain, the gray - -sadly, but not with upbraiding -the generous deed was done -in the storm of the years that are fading -no braver battle was won -under the sod and the dew -waiting the judgment day -under the blossoms, the blue -under the garlands, the gray - -no more shall the war-cry sever -or the winding rivers be red -they banish our anger forever -when they laurel the graves of our dead -under the sod and the dew -waiting the judgment day -love and tears for the blue -tears and love for the gray - - - -a fair little girl sat under a tree -sewing as long as her eyes could see -then smoothed her work, and folded it right -and said, "dear work, good night, good night - -such a number of rooks came over her head -crying "caw, caw," on their way to bed -she said, as she watched their curious flight - -the horses neighed, and the oxen lowed -the sheep's "bleat, bleat" came over the road -and all seemed to say, with a quiet delight - -she did not say to the sun "good night -tho' she saw him there like a ball of light -for she knew he had god's own time to keep -all over the world, and never could sleep - -the tall pink foxglove bowed his head -the violets curtseyed and went to bed -and good little lucy tied up her hair -and said, on her knees, her favorite prayer - -and, while on her pillow she softly lay -she knew nothing more till again it was day -and all things said to the beautiful sun - - - - -resting to sleep -why look so pale and so sad, as for ever -wishing to weep - -you are too bold -i must obey my dear father above me -and do as i'm told - - - - - -breathes there the man with soul so dead -who never to himself hath said -this is my own, my native land -whose heart hath ne'er within him burned -as home his footsteps he hath turned -from wandering on a foreign strand -if such there breathe, go, mark him well -for him no minstrel raptures swell -high though his titles, proud his name -boundless his wealth as wish can claim -despite those titles, power, and pelf -the wretch, concentred all in self -living, shall forfeit fair renown -and, doubly dying, shall go down -to the vile dust from whence he sprung -unwept, unhonored and unsung - - - -the year's at the spring -and day's at the morn -morning's at seven -the hillside's dew-pearled -the lark's on the wing -the snail's on the thorn -god's in his heaven -all's right with the world - - - -twinkle, twinkle, little star -how i wonder what you are -up above the world so high -like a diamond in the sky - -when the glorious sun is set -when the grass with dew is wet -then you show your little light -twinkle, twinkle, all the night - -in the dark blue sky you keep -and often through my curtains peep -for you never shut your eye -till the sun is in the sky - -as your bright and tiny spark -lights the traveler in the dark -though i know not what you are -twinkle, twinkle, little star - - - -sunset and evening star -and one clear call for me -and may there be no moaning of the bar -when i put out to sea - -but such a tide as moving seems asleep -too full for sound and foam -when that which drew from out the boundless deep -turns again home - -twilight and evening bell -and after that the dark -and may there be no sadness of farewell -when i embark - -for tho' from out our bourne of time and place -the flood may bear me far -i hope to see my pilot face to face -when i have crost the bar - - - -the tree's early leaf buds were bursting their brown -till the blossoms have grown -prayed the tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown - -the tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung -till the blossoms have grown -said the tree, while his leaflets quivering hung - -the tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow -said the child, "may i gather thy berries now -take them; all are for thee -said the tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low - - - -into the sunshine -full of the light -leaping and flashing -from morn till night - -into the moonlight -whiter than snow -waving so flower-like -when the winds blow - -into the starlight -rushing in spray -happy at midnight -happy by day - -ever in motion -blithesome and cheery -still climbing heavenward -never aweary - -glad of all weathers -still seeming best -upward or downward -motion thy rest - -full of a nature -nothing can tame -changed every moment -ever the same - -ceaseless aspiring -ceaseless content -darkness or sunshine -thy element - -glorious fountain -let my heart be -fresh, changeful, constant -upward, like thee - - - -the good dame looked from her cottage -at the close of the pleasant day -and cheerily called to her little son -outside the door at play -while there is light to see -to the hut of the blind old man who lives -across the dike, for me -and take these cakes i made for him -they are hot and smoking yet -you have time enough to go and come -before the sun is set - -then the good-wife turned to her labor -humming a simple song -and thought of her husband, working hard -at the sluices all day long -and set the turf a-blazing -and brought the coarse black bread -that he might find a fire at night -and find the table spread - -and peter left the brother -with whom all day he had played -and the sister who had watched their sports -in the willow's tender shade -and told them they'd see him back before -they saw a star in sight -though he wouldn't be afraid to go -in the very darkest night -for he was a brave, bright fellow -with eye and conscience clear -he could do whatever a boy might do -and he had not learned to fear -why, he wouldn't have robbed a bird's nest -nor brought a stork to harm -though never a law in holland -had stood to stay his arm - -and now with his face all glowing -and eyes as bright as the day -with the thoughts of his pleasant errand -he trudged along the way -and soon his joyous prattle -made glad a lonesome place -alas! if only the blind old man -could have seen that happy face -yet he somehow caught the brightness -which his voice and presence lent -and he felt the sunshine come and go -as peter came and went - -and now, as the day was sinking -and the winds began to rise -the mother looked from her door again -shading her anxious eyes -and saw the shadows deepen -and birds to their homes come back -but never a sign of peter -along the level track -but she said, "he will come at morning -so i need not fret nor grieve -though it isn't like my boy at all -to stay without my leave - -but where was the child delaying -on the homeward way was he -across the dike while the sun was up -an hour above the sea -he was stopping now to gather flowers -now listening to the sound -as the angry waters dashed themselves -against their narrow bound -and my father tends them carefully -or they would not hold you long -you're a wicked sea," said peter -you would like to spoil our lands and homes -but our sluices keep you safe - -but hark! through the noise of waters -comes a low, clear, trickling sound -and the child's face pales with terror -and his blossoms drop to the ground -he is up the bank in a moment -and, stealing through the sand -he sees a stream not yet so large -as his slender, childish hand -unused to fearful scenes -but, young as he is, he has learned to know -the dreadful thing that means -a leak in the dike! the stoutest heart -grows faint that cry to hear -and the bravest man in all the land -turns white with mortal fear -for he knows the smallest leak may grow -to a flood in a single night -and he knows the strength of the cruel sea -when loosed in its angry might - -and the boy! he has seen the danger -and shouting a wild alarm -he forces back the weight of the sea -with the strength of his single arm -he listens for the joyful sound -of a footstep passing nigh -and lays his ear to the ground, to catch -the answer to his cry -and he hears the rough winds blowing -and the waters rise and fall -but never an answer comes to him -save the echo of his call - -he sees no hope, no succor -his feeble voice is lost -yet what shall he do but watch and wait -though he perish at his post -so, faintly calling and crying -till the sun is under the sea -crying and moaning till the stars -come out for company -he thinks of his brother and sister -asleep in their safe warm bed -he thinks of his father and mother -of himself as dying--and dead -and of how, when the night is over -they must come and find him at last -but he never thinks he can leave the place -where duty holds him fast - -the good dame in the cottage -is up and astir with the light -for the thought of her little peter -has been with her all night -and now she watches the pathway -as yester eve she had done -but what does she see so strange and black -against the rising sun -her neighbors are bearing between them -something straight to her door -her child is coming home, but not -as he ever came before - -and the startled father hears -and comes and looks the way she looks -and fears the thing she fears -till a glad shout from the bearers -thrills the stricken man and wife -and god has saved his life -so, there in the morning sunshine -they knelt about the boy -and every head was bared and bent -in tearful, reverent joy - -when the sea roars like a flood -their boys are taught what a boy can do -who is brave and true and good -for every man in that country -takes his son by the hand -and tells him of little peter -whose courage saved the land -they have many a valiant hero -remembered through the years -but never one whose name so oft -is named with loving tears -and his deed shall be sung by the cradle -and told to the child on the knee -so long as the dikes of holland -divide the land from the sea - - - -merrily swinging on briar and weed -near to the nest of his little dame -over the mountain-side or mead -robert of lincoln is telling his name -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -snug and safe is that nest of ours -hidden among the summer flowers -chee, chee, chee - -robert of lincoln is gaily drest -wearing a bright black wedding coat -white are his shoulders and white his crest -hear him call in his merry note -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -look, what a nice new coat is mine -sure there was never a bird so fine -chee, chee, chee - -robert of lincoln's quaker wife -pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings -passing at home a patient life -broods in the grass while her husband sings -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -brood, kind creature; you need not fear -thieves and robbers while i am here -chee, chee, chee - -modest and shy as a nun is she -one weak chirp is her only note -braggart and prince of braggarts is he -pouring boasts from his little throat -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -never was i afraid of man -catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can -chee, chee, chee - -six white eggs on a bed of hay -flecked with purple, a pretty sight -there as the mother sits all day -robert is singing with all his might -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -nice, good wife, that never goes out -keeping the house while i frolic about -chee, chee, chee - -soon as the little ones chip the shell -six wide mouths are open for food -robert of lincoln bestirs him well -gathering seeds for the hungry brood -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -this new life is likely to be -hard for a gay young fellow like me -chee, chee, chee - -robert of lincoln at length is made -sober with work, and silent with care -off is his holiday garment laid -half forgotten that merry air -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -where our nest and our nestlings lie -chee, chee, chee - -summer wanes; the children are grown -fun and frolic no more he knows -robert of lincoln's a humdrum crone -off he flies, and we sing as he goes -bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link -spink, spank, spink -when you can pipe that merry old strain -robert of lincoln, come back again -chee, chee, chee - - - -ring-ting! i wish i were a primrose -a bright yellow primrose, blowing in the spring -the stooping boughs above me -the wandering bee to love me -the fern and moss to creep across -and the elm tree for our king - -nay--stay! i wish i were an elm tree -a great, lofty elm tree, with green leaves gay -the winds would set them dancing -the sun and moonshine glance in -the birds would house among the boughs -and sweetly sing - -oh no! i wish i were a robin -a robin or a little wren, everywhere to go -through forest, field, or garden -and ask no leave or pardon -till winter comes with icy thumbs -to ruffle up our wing - -well--tell! where should i fly to -where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell -before a day was over -home comes the rover -for mother's kiss--sweeter this -than any other thing - - - -not a drum was heard, not a funeral note -as his corse to the rampart we hurried -not a soldier discharged his farewell shot -o'er the grave where our hero we buried - -we buried him darkly at dead of night -the sods with our bayonets turning -by struggling moonbeam's misty light -and the lantern dimly burning - -no useless coffin enclosed his breast -nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him -but he lay like a warrior taking his rest -with his martial cloak around him - -few and short were the prayers we said -and we spoke not a word of sorrow -but we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead -and we bitterly thought of the morrow - -we thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed -and smoothed down his lonely pillow -that the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head -and we far away on the billow - -lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone -and o'er his cold ashes upbraid him -but little he'll reck; if they let him sleep on -in the grave where a briton has laid him - -but half of our heavy task was done -when the clock tolled the hour for retiring -and we heard the distant and random gun -that the foe was sullenly firing - -slowly and sadly we laid him down -from the field of his fame fresh and gory -we carved not a line, and we raised not a stone -but we left him alone with his glory - - - -how many seconds in a minute -sixty, and no more in it - -how many minutes in an hour -sixty for sun and shower - -how many hours in a day -twenty-four for work and play - -how many days in a week -seven both to hear and speak - -how many weeks in a month -four, as the swift moon runn'th - -how many months in a year -twelve, the almanack makes clear - -how many years in an age -one hundred, says the sage - -how many ages in time -no one knows the rhyme - - - -here hath been dawning another blue day -think, wilt thou let it slip useless away -out of eternity this new day was born -into eternity, at night, will return -behold it aforetime no eye ever did -so soon it forever from all eyes is hid -here hath been dawning another blue day -think, wilt thou let it slip useless away - - - -said the wind to the moon, "i will blow you out -you stare -in the air -like a ghost in a chair -always looking what i am about -i hate to be watched--i will blow you out - -the wind blew hard, and out went the moon -so deep -on a heap -of clouds, to sleep -down lay the wind, and slumbered soon -muttering low, "i've done for that moon - -he turned in his bed; she was there again -on high -in the sky -with her one clear eye -the moon shone white and alive and plain -said the wind--"i will blow you out again - -the wind blew hard, and the moon grew dim -and my wedge -i have knocked off her edge -if only i blow right fierce and grim -the creature will soon be dimmer than dim - -he blew and blew, and she thinned to a thread -more's enough -to blow her to snuff -one good puff more where the last was bred -and glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread - -he blew a great blast, and the thread was gone -in the air -nowhere -was a moonbeam bare -far off and harmless the shy stars shone -sure and certain the moon was gone - -the wind, he took to his revels once more -on down -in town -like a merry-mad clown -he leaped and halloed with whistle and roar - -he flew in a rage--he danced and blew -but in vain -was the pain -of his bursting brain -for still the broader the moon-scrap grew -the broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew - -slowly she grew--till she filled the night -and shone -on her throne -in the sky alone -a matchless, wonderful, silvery light -radiant and lovely, the queen of the night - -with my breath -good faith -i blew her to death -first blew her away right out of the sky - -but the moon, she knew nothing about the affair -for, high -in the sky -with her one white eye -motionless, miles above the air -she had never heard the great wind blare - - - -in the heart of a seed -buried deep, so deep -a dear little plant -lay fast asleep - -of the raindrop bright - -the little plant heard -and it rose to see -what the wonderful -outside world might be - - - -listen, my children, and you shall hear -of the midnight ride of paul revere -on the eighteenth of april, in seventy-five -hardly a man is now alive -who remembers that famous day and year - -he said to his friend, "if the british march -by land or sea from the town tonight -hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch -of the north church tower, as a signal light -one, if by land, and two, if by sea -and i on the opposite shore will be -ready to ride and spread the alarm -through every middlesex village and farm -for the country folk to be up and to arm - -then he said, "good-night"; and with muffled oar -silently rowed to the charlestown shore -just as the moon rose over the bay -where, swinging wide at her moorings, lay -the somerset, british man-of-war -a phantom ship, with each mast and spar -across the moon like a prison bar -and a huge black hulk, that was magnified -by its own reflection in the tide - -meanwhile, his friend through alley and street -wanders and watches with eager ears -till, in the silence around him, he hears -the muster of men at the barrack door -the sound of arms, and the tramp of feet -and the measured tread of the grenadiers -marching down to their boats on the shore - -then he climbed to the tower of the old north church -by the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread -to the belfry chamber overhead -and startled the pigeons from their perch -on the sombre rafters, that round him made -masses and moving shapes of shade -by the trembling ladder, steep and tall -to the highest window in the wall -where he paused to listen, and look down -a moment on the roofs of the town -and the moonlight flowing over all - -beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead -in their night encampment on the hill -wrapped in silence so deep and still -that he could hear, like a sentinel's tread -the watchful night wind, as it went -creeping along from tent to tent -and seeming to whisper, "all is well -a moment only he feels the spell -of the place and hour, and the secret dread -of the lonely belfry and the dead -for suddenly all his thoughts are bent -on a shadowy something far away -where the river widens to meet the bay -a line of black, that bends and floats -on the rising tide, like a bridge of boats - -meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride -booted and spurred, with a heavy stride -on the opposite shore walked paul revere -now he patted his horse's side -now gazed on the landscape far and near -then impetuous stamped the earth -and turned and tightened his saddle girth -but mostly he watched with eager search -the belfry tower of the old north church -as it rose above the graves on the hill -lonely and spectral, and sombre and still -and lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height -a glimmer, and then a gleam of light -he springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns -but lingers and gazes, till full on his sight -a second lamp in the belfry burns - -a harry of hoofs in a village street -a shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark -and beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark -struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet -that was all! and yet, through the gloom and the light -the fate of a nation was riding that night -and the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight -kindled the land into flame with its heat -he has left the village and mounted the steep -and beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep -is the mystic, meeting the ocean tides -and under the alders, that skirt its edge -now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge -is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides - -it was twelve by the village clock -when he crossed the bridge into medford town -he heard the crowing of the cock -and the barking of the farmer's dog -and felt the damp of the river fog -that rises after the sun goes down - -it was one by the village clock -when he galloped into lexington -he saw the gilded weathercock -swim in the moonlight as he passed -and the meeting house windows, blank and bare -gaze at him with a spectral glare -as if they already stood aghast -at the bloody work they would look upon - -it was two by the village clock -when he came to the bridge in concord town -he heard the bleating of the flock -and the twittering of birds among the trees -and felt the breath of the morning breeze -blowing over the meadows brown -and one was safe and asleep in his bed -who at the bridge would be first to fall -who that day would be lying dead -pierced by a british musket ball - -you know the rest. in the books you have read -how the british regulars fired and fled -how the farmers gave them ball for ball -from behind each fence and farmyard wall -chasing the red coats down the lane -then crossing the fields to emerge again -under the trees at the turn of the road -and only pausing to fire and load - -so through the night rode paul revere -and so through the night went his cry of alarm -to every middlesex village and farm -a cry of defiance, and not of fear -a voice in the darkness, a knock at the door -and a word that shall echo forever-more -for borne on the night wind of the past -through all our history to the last -in the hour of darkness and peril and need -the people will waken and listen to hear -the hurrying hoof beats of that steed -and the midnight message of paul revere - - - -in flanders fields the poppies grow -between the crosses, row on row -that mark our place; and in the sky -the larks, still bravely singing, fly -scarce heard amid the guns below - -we are the dead. short days ago -we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow -loved and were loved; and now we lie -in flanders fields - -take up our quarrel with the foe -to you, from failing hands, we throw -the torch. be yours to hold it high -if ye break faith with us who die -we shall not sleep, though poppies blow -in flanders fields - - - -in flanders fields the cannon boom -and fitful flashes light the gloom -while up above, like eagles, fly -the fierce destroyers of the sky -with stains the earth wherein you lie -is redder than the poppy bloom -in flanders fields - -sleep on, ye brave. the shrieking shell -the quaking trench, the startled yell -the fury of the battle hell -shall wake you not; for all is well -sleep peacefully; for all is well - -your flaming torch aloft we bear -with burning heart an oath we swear -to keep the faith, to fight it through -to crush the foe, or sleep with you -in flanders fields - - - -the little toy dog is covered with dust -but sturdy and stanch he stands -and the little toy soldier is red with rust -and his musket moulds in his hands -time was when the little toy dog was new -and the soldier was passing fair -and that was the time when our little boy blue -kissed them and put them there - -so toddling off to his trundle-bed -he dreamt of the pretty toys -and as he was dreaming, an angel song -awakened our little boy blue -oh, the years are many, the years are long -but the little toy friends are true - -ay, faithful to little boy blue they stand -each in the same old place -awaiting the touch of a little hand -the smile of a little face -and they wonder, as waiting these long years through -in the dust of that little chair -what has become of our little boy blue -since he kissed them and put them there - - - -to him who in the love of nature holds -communion with her visible forms, she speaks -a various language; for his gayer hours -she has a voice of gladness, and a smile -and eloquence of beauty, and she glides -into his darker musings with a mild -and healing sympathy, that steals away -their sharpness, ere he is aware. when thoughts -of the last bitter hoar come like a blight -over thy spirit, and sad images -of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall -and breathless darkness, and the narrow house -make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart -go forth, under the open sky, and list -to nature's teachings, while from all around -earth and her waters, and the depths of air -comes a still voice--yet a few days, and thee -the all-beholding sun shall see no more -in all his course; nor yet in the cold ground -where thy pale form was laid with many tears -nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist -thy image. earth, that nourished thee, shall claim -thy growth, to be resolved to earth again -and, lost each human trace, surrendering up -thine individual being, shalt thou go -to mix forever with the elements -to be a brother to the insensible rock -and to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain -turns with his share, and treads upon. the oak -shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould -yet not to thine eternal resting-place -shalt thou retire alone--nor couldst thou wish -couch more magnificent. thou shalt lie down -with patriarchs of the infant world--with kings -the powerful of the earth--the wise, the good -fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past -all in one mighty sepulchre. the hills -rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun,--the vales -stretching in pensive quietness between -the venerable woods--rivers that move -in majesty, and the complaining brooks -that make the meadows green; and, poured round all -old ocean's gray and melancholy waste -are but the solemn decorations all -of the great tomb of man. the golden sun -the planets, all the infinite host of heaven -are shining on the sad abodes of death -through the still lapse of ages. all that tread -the globe are but a handful to the tribes -that slumber in its bosom. take the wings -of morning, pierce the barcan wilderness -or lose thyself in the continuous woods -where rolls the oregon, and hears no sound -save his own dashings--yet, the dead are there -and millions in those solitudes, since first -the flight of years began, have laid them down -in their last sleep--the dead reign there alone -so shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw -in silence from the living, and no friend -take note of thy departure? all that breathe -will share thy destiny. the gay will laugh -when thou art gone, the solemn brood of care -plod on, and each one as before will chase -his favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave -their mirth and their employments, and shall come -and make their bed with thee. as the long train -of ages glide away, the sons of men -the youth in life's green spring, and he who goes -in the full strength of years, matron, and maid -and the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man -shall one by one be gathered to thy side -by those who in their turn shall follow them - -so live, that when thy summons comes to join -the innumerable caravan which moves -to the pale realms of shade, where each shall take -his chamber in the silent halls of death -thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night -scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed -by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave -like one who wraps the drapery of his couch -about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams - - - -it ain't the funniest thing a man can do -existing in a country when it's new -nature, who moved in first--a good long while -has things already somewhat her own style -and she don't want her woodland splendors battered -her rustic furniture broke up and scattered -her paintings, which long years ago were done -by that old splendid artist-king, the sun -torn down and dragged in civilization's gutter -or sold to purchase settlers' bread and butter -she don't want things exposed from porch to closet -and so she kind o' nags the man who does it -she carries in her pockets bags of seeds -as general agent of the thriftiest weeds -she sends her blackbirds, in the early morn -to superintend his fields of planted corn -she gives him rain past any duck's desire -then maybe several weeks of quiet fire -she sails mosquitoes--leeches perched on wings -to poison him with blood-devouring stings -she loves her ague-muscle to display -and shake him up--say every other day -with, thoughtful, conscientious care she makes -those travelin' poison-bottles, rattlesnakes -she finds time, 'mongst her other family cares -to keep in stock good wild-cats, wolves, and bears - -well, when i first infested this retreat -things to my view looked frightful incomplete -but i had come with heart-thrift in my song -and brought my wife and plunder right along -i hadn't a round trip ticket to go back -and if i had there wasn't no railroad track -and drivin' east was what i couldn't endure -i hadn't started on a circular tour - -my girl-wife was as brave as she was good -and helped me every blessed way she could -she seemed to take to every rough old tree -as sing'lar as when first she took to me -she kep' our little log-house neat as wax -and once i caught her fooling with my axe -she learned a hundred masculine things to do -she aimed a shot-gun pretty middlin' true -although in spite of my express desire -she always shut her eyes before she'd fire -she hadn't the muscle (though she _had_ the heart -in out-door work to take an active part -though in our firm of duty and endeavor -she wasn't no silent partner whatsoever -when i was logging, burning, choppin' wood -she'd linger round and help me all she could -and keep me fresh-ambitious all the while -and lifted tons just with her voice and smile -with no desire my glory for to rob -she used to stan' around and boss the job -and when first-class success my hands befell -would proudly say, "_we_ did that pretty well -she _was_ delicious, both to hear and see -that pretty wife-girl that kep' house for me - -well, neighborhoods meant counties in those days -the roads didn't have accommodating ways -and maybe weeks would pass before she'd see -and much less talk with--any one but me -the indians sometimes showed their sun-baked faces -but they didn't teem with conversational graces -some ideas from the birds and trees she stole -but 'twasn't like talking with a human soul -and finally i thought that i could trace -a half heart-hunger peering from her face -then she would drive it back and shut the door -of course that only made me see it more -making a steady effort not to pine -and recognize the seeds of sorrow in it -no misery makes a close observer mourn -like hopeless grief with hopeful courage borne -there's nothing sets the sympathies to paining -like a complaining woman uncomplaining -it always draws my breath out into sighs -to see a brave look in a woman's eyes - -well, she went on, as plucky as could be -fighting the foe she thought i did not see -and using her heart-horticultural powers -to turn that forest to a bed of flowers -you cannot check an unadmitted sigh -and so i had to soothe her on the sly -and secretly to help her draw her load -and soon it came to be an up-hill road -hard work bears hard upon the average pulse -even with satisfactory results -but when effects are scarce, the heavy strain -falls dead and solid on the heart and brain -and when we're bothered, it will oft occur -we seek blame-timber; and i lit on her -and looked at her with daily lessening favor -for what i knew she couldn't help, to save her -and discord, when he once had called and seen us -came round quite often, and edged in between us - -one night, when i came home unusual late -too hungry and too tired to feel first-rate -her supper struck me wrong (though i'll allow -she hadn't much to strike with, anyhow -and when i went to milk the cows, and found -they'd wandered from their usual feeding ground -and maybe'd left a few long miles behind 'em -which i must copy, if i meant to find 'em -flash-quick the stay-chains of my temper broke -and in a, trice these hot words i had spoke -and drove 'em in; you'd nothing else to do -the heft of all our life on me must fall -you just lie round and let me do it all - -that speech--it hadn't been gone a half a minute -before i saw the cold black poison in it -and i'd have given all i had, and more -to've only safely got it back in-door -i'm now what most folks "well-to-do" would call -i feel to-day as if i'd give it all -provided i through fifty years might reach -and kill and bury that half-minute speech - -she handed back no words, as i could hear -she didn't frown; she didn't shed a tear -half proud, half crushed, she stood and looked me o'er -like some one she had never seen before -but such a sudden anguish-lit surprise -i never viewed before in human eyes -it sometimes wakes me like a midnight scream - -next morning, when, stone-faced, but heavy-hearted -with dinner pail and sharpened axe i started -away for my day's work--she watched the door -and followed me half way to it or more -and i was just a-turning round at this -and asking for my usual good-by kiss -but on her lip i saw a proudish curve -and in her eye a shadow of reserve -and she had shown--perhaps half unawares -some little independent breakfast airs -and so the usual parting didn't occur -although her eyes invited me to her -or rather half invited me, for she -didn't advertise to furnish kisses free -you always had--that is, i had--to pay -full market price, and go more'n half the way -so, with a short "good-by," i shut the door -and left her as i never had before -but when at noon my lunch i came to eat -put up by her so delicately neat -choicer, somewhat, than yesterday's had been -and some fresh, sweet-eyed pansies she'd put in -it seemed as if her kiss with me she'd sent -then i became once more her humble lover -and said, "to-night i'll ask forgiveness of her - -i went home over-early on that eve -having contrived to make myself believe -by various signs i kind o' knew and guessed -a thunder-storm was coming from the west -how many honest ones will take its part -a dozen first-class reasons said 'twas right -that i should strike home early on that night - -half out of breath, the cabin door i swung -with tender heart-words trembling on my tongue -but all within looked desolate and bare -my house had lost its soul,--she was not there -a penciled note was on the table spread -and these are something like the words it said -i watched them pretty close; don't scold me, dear -and where they are, i think i nearly know -i heard the bell not very long ago -i've hunted for them all the afternoon -i'll try once more--i think i'll find them soon -dear, if a burden i have been to you -and haven't helped you as i ought to do -let old-time memories my forgiveness plead -i've tried to do my best--i have indeed -darling, piece out with love the strength i lack -and have kind words for me when i get back - -scarce did i give this letter sight and tongue -some swift-blown rain-drops to the window clung -and from the clouds a rough, deep growl proceeded -my thunder-storm had come, now 'twasn't needed -i rushed out-door. the air was stained with black -night had come early, on the storm-cloud's back -and everything kept dimming to the sight -save when the clouds threw their electric light -when for a flash, so clean-cut was the view -i'd think i saw her--knowing 'twas not true -through my small clearing dashed wide sheets of spray -as if the ocean waves had lost their way -scarcely a pause the thunder-battle made -in the bold clamor of its cannonade -and she, while i was sheltered, dry, and warm -was somewhere in the clutches of this storm -she who, when storm-frights found her at her best -had always hid her white face on my breast - -my dog, who'd skirmished round me all the day -now crouched and whimpering, in a corner lay -i dragged him by the collar to the wall -i pressed his quivering muzzle to a shawl -matched eyes with me, as if to read my mind -then with a yell went tearing through the wood -i followed him, as faithful as i could -no pleasure-trip was that, through flood and flame -we raced with death: we hunted noble game -all night we dragged the woods without avail -the ground got drenched--we could not keep the trail -three times again my cabin home i found -half hoping she might be there, safe and sound -but each time 'twas an unavailing care -my house had lost its soul; she was not there - -when, climbing--the wet trees, next morning-sun -laughed at the ruin that the night had done -bleeding and drenched, by toil and sorrow bent -back to what used to be my home i went -but as i neared our little clearing-ground -listen!--i heard the cow-bell's tinkling sound -the cabin door was just a bit ajar -it gleamed upon my glad eyes like a star -she made them guide her homeward through the storm -such pangs of joy i never felt before - -yes, she had come--and gone again. she lay -with all her young life crushed and wrenched away -lay, the heart-ruins of oar home among -not far from where i killed her with my tongue -the rain-drops glittered 'mid her hair's long strands -the forest thorns had torn her feet and hands -and 'midst the tears--brave tears--that one could trace -upon the pale but sweetly resolute face -i once again the mournful words could read - -and now i'm mostly done; my story's o'er -part of it never breathed the air before -to volunteer heart-history to a crowd -and scatter 'mongst them confidential tears -but you'll protect an old man with his years -and wheresoe'er this story's voice can reach -this is the sermon i would have it preach - -boys flying kites haul in their white-winged birds -you can't do that way when you're flying words -thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead -but god himself can't kill them when they're said -yon have my life-grief: do not think a minute -it sheds advice: whoe'er will take and live it -is welcome to the pain it cost to give it - - - -i ain't afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice -an' things 'at girls are skeered uv i think are awful nice -i'm pretty brave, i guess; an' yet i hate to go to bed -for, when i'm tucked up warm an' snug an' when my prayers are said -mother tells me "happy dreams!" and takes away the light -an' leaves me lying all alone an' seein' things at night - -sometimes they're in the corner, sometimes they're by the door -sometimes they're all a-standin' in the middle uv the floor -sometimes they are a-sittin' down, sometimes they're walkin' round -so softly an' so creepylike they never make a sound -sometimes they are as black as ink, an' other times they're white -but the color ain't no difference when you see things at night - -once, when i licked a feller 'at had just moved on our street -an' father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat -i woke up in the dark an' saw things standin' in a row -a-lookin' at me cross-eyed an' p'intin' at me--so -oh, my! i was so skeered that time i never slep' a mite -it's almost alluz when i'm bad i see things at night - -lucky thing i ain't a girl, or i'd be skeered to death -bein' i'm a boy, i duck my head an' hold my breath -an' i am, oh! so sorry i'm a naughty boy, an' then -i promise to be better an' i say my prayers again -gran'ma tells me that's the only way to make it right -when a feller has been wicked an' sees things at night - -an' so, when other naughty boys would coax me into sin -i try to skwush the tempter's voice 'at urges me within -an' when they's pie for supper, or cakes 'at's big an' nice -i want to--but i do not pass my plate f'r them things twice -no, ruther let starvation wipe me slowly out o' sight -than i should keep a-livin' on an' seein' things at night - - - -oh, the raggedy man! he works fer pa -an' he's the goodest man ever you saw -he comes to our house every day -an' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay -an' he opens the shed--an' we all ist laugh -when he drives out our little old wobblely calf -an' nen--ef our hired girl says he can -he milks the cows fer 'lizabuth ann -ain't he a' awful good raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - -w'y, the raggedy man--he's ist so good -he splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood -an' nen he spades in our garden, too -an' does most things 'at _boys_ can't do -he clumbed clean up in our big tree -an' shocked a' apple down fer me -an' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'lizabuth ann -an' 'nother 'n', too, fer the raggedy man -ain't he a' awful kind raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - -an' the raggedy man one time say he -pick' roast' rambos from a' orchard-tree -an' et 'em--all ist roas' an' hot -an' it's so, too!--'cause a corn-crib got -afire one time an' all burn' down -on "the smoot farm," 'bout four mile from town -on "the smoot farm"! yes--an' the hired han -ain't he the beanin'est raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - -the raggedy man's so good an' kind -he'll be our "horsey," an' "haw" an' mind -ever'thing 'at you make him do -an' won't run off--'less you want him to -i drived him wunst 'way down our lane -an' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain -an' ist rared up an' squealed and run -purt' nigh away!--an' it's all in fun -nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can -whoa! y' old runaway raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - -an' the raggedy man, he knows most rhymes -an' tells 'em, ef i be good, sometimes -knows 'bout giants, an' griffuns, an' elves -an' the squidgicum-squees 'at swallers the'rselves -an', wite by the pump la our pasture-lot -he showed me the hole 'at the wunks is got -turn into me, er 'lizabuth ann -er ma, er pa, er the raggedy man -ain't he a funny old raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - -an' wunst when the raggedy man come late -an' pigs ist root' thue the garden-gate -he 'tend like the pigs 'uz bears an' said -an' race' an' chase' em, an' they'd ist run -when he pint his hoe at 'em like it's a gun -an' go "bang!-bang!" nen 'tend he stan -an' load up his gun ag'in! raggedy man -he's an old bear-shooter raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - -an' sometimes the raggedy man lets on -we're little prince-children, an' old king's gone -to get more money, an' lef us there -and robbers is ist thick ever'where -an' nen-ef we all won't cry, fer shore -the raggedy man he'll come and "splore -the castul-halls," an' steal the "gold -and steal us, too, an' grab an' hold -an' pack us off to his old "cave"!-an -haymow's the "cave" o' the raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - -the raggedy man--one time, when he -wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me -says "when you're big like your pa is -air you go' to keep a fine store like his -an' be a rich merchunt--an' wear fine clothes -er what air you go' to be, goodness knows -an' nen he laughed at 'lizabuth ann -an' i says "'m go' to be a raggedy man -i'm ist go' to be a nice raggedy man -raggedy! raggedy! raggedy man - - - -maud muller, on a summer's day -raked the meadow sweet with hay - -beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth -of simple beauty and rustic health - -singing, she wrought, and her merry glee -the mock-bird echoed from his tree - -but when she glanced to the far-off town -white from its hill-slope looking down - -the sweet song died, and a vague unrest -and a nameless longing filled her breast - -a wish, that she hardly dared to own -for something better than she had known - -the judge rode slowly down the lane -smoothing his horse's chestnut mane - -he drew his bridle in the shade -of the apple-trees, to greet the maid - -and asked a draught from the spring that flowed -through the meadow across the road - -she stooped where the cool spring bubbled up -and filled for him her small tin cup - -and blushed as she gave it, looking down -on her feet so bare, and her tattered gown - -from a fairer hand was never quaffed - -he spoke of the grass and flowers and trees -of the singing birds and the humming' bees - -then talked of the haying, and wondered whether -the cloud in the west would bring foul weather - -and maud forgot her brier-torn gown -and her graceful ankles bare and brown - -and listened, while a pleased surprise -looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes - -at last, like one who for delay -seeks a vain excuse, he rode away - -maud muller looked and sighed: "ah, me -that i the judge's bride might be - -and praise and toast me at his wine - -my brother should sail a painted boat - -and the baby should have a new toy each day - -and all should bless me who left our door - -the judge looked back as he climbed the hill -and saw maud muller standing still - -ne'er hath it been my lot to meet - -show her wise and good as she is fair - -like her, a harvester of hay - -nor weary lawyers with endless tongues - -and health and quiet and loving words - -but he thought of his sisters proud and cold -and his mother vain of her rank and gold - -so, closing his heart, the judge rode on -and maud was left in the field alone - -but the lawyers smiled that afternoon -when he hummed in court an old love-tune - -and the young girl mused beside the well -till the rain on the unraked clover fell - -he wedded a wife of richest dower -who lived for fashion, as he for power - -yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow -he watched a picture come and go - -and sweet maud muller's hazel eyes -looked out in their innocent surprise - -oft, when the wine in his glass was red -he longed for the wayside well instead - -and closed his eyes on his garnished rooms -to dream of meadows and clover-blooms - -and the proud man sighed, with a secret pain - -where the barefoot maiden raked her hay - -she wedded a man unlearned and poor -and many children played round her door - -but care and sorrow, and childbirth pain -left their traces on heart and brain - -and oft, when the summer sun shone hot -on the new-mown hay in the meadow lot - -and she heard the little spring brook fall -over the roadside, through the wall - -in the shade of the apple-tree again -she saw a rider draw his rein - -and, gazing down with timid grace -she felt his pleased eyes read her face - -sometimes her narrow kitchen walls -stretched away into stately halls - -the weary wheel to a spinnet turned -the tallow candle an astral burned - -and for him who sat by the chimney lug -dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug - -a manly form at her side she saw -and joy was duty and love was law - -then she took up her burden of life again -saying only, "it might have been - -alas for maiden, alas for judge -for rich repiner and household drudge - -god pity them both! and pity us all -who vainly the dreams of youth recall - -for of all sad words of tongue or pen -the saddest are these: "it might have been - -ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies -deeply buried from human eyes - -and, in the hereafter, angels may -roll the stone from its grave away - - - -we were hunting for wintergreen berries -one may-day, long gone by -out on the rocky cliff's edge -sister had hair like the sunbeams -black as a crow's wing, mine -sister had blue, dove's eyes -wicked, black eyes are mine -why, see how my eyes are faded -and my hair, it is white as snow -and thin, too! don't you see it is -i tear it sometimes; so -there, don't hold my hands, maggie -i don't feel like tearing it now -but--where was i in my story -oh, i was telling you how -we were looking for wintergreen berries -and the moss-grown rocks were slippery -with the rains of yesterday -but i was cross that morning -though the sun shone ever so bright -and when sister found the most berries -i was angry enough to fight -and when she laughed at my pouting -we were little things, you know -i clinched my little fist up tight -and struck her the biggest blow -i struck her--i tell you--i struck her -and she fell right over below -there, there, maggie, i won't rave now -you needn't hold me so -she went right over, i tell you -down, down to the depths below -there where the waters flow -she fell right over, moaning -that, when i looked down affrighted -it drove me _mad--mad -only her golden hair streaming -out on the rippling wave -only her little hand reaching -up, for someone to save -and she sank down in the darkness -i never saw her again -and this is a chaos of blackness -and darkness and grief since then -no more playing together -down on the pebbly strand -nor building our dolls stone castles -with halls and parlors grand -no more fishing with bent pins -in the little brook's clear waves -no more holding funerals -o'er dead canaries' graves -no more walking together -to the log schoolhouse each morn -no more vexing the master -with putting his rules to scorn -no more feeding of white lambs -with milk from the foaming pail -no more playing "see-saw -over the fence of rail -no more telling of stories -after we've gone to bed -nor talking of ghosts and goblins -till we fairly shiver with dread -no more whispering fearfully -and hugging each other tight -when the shutters shake and the dogs howl -in the middle of the night -no more saying "our father -kneeling by mother's knee -for, maggie, i _struck_ sister -and mother is dead, you see -maggie, sister's an angel -isn't she? isn't it true -for angels have golden tresses -and eyes like sister's, blue -now _my_ hair isn't golden -my eyes aren't blue, you see -now tell me, maggie, if i were to die -could they make an angel of me -you say, "oh, yes"; you think so -well, then, when i come to die -we'll play up there, in god's garden -now, maggie, you needn't eye me -because i'm talking so queer -because i'm talking so strangely -you needn't have the least fear -somehow i'm feeling to-night, maggie -as i never felt before -i'm sure, i'm sure of it, maggie -i never shall rave any more -maggie, you know how these long years -i've heard her calling, so sad -it always drives me _mad -how the winter wind shrieks down the chimney -how the south wind wails at the casement -but most of all when the may-days -come back, with the flowers and the sun -how the night-bird, singing, all lonely -you know how it sets me raving -for _she_ moaned, "_oh, bessie!_" just so -that time i _struck_ little sister -on the may-day long ago -now, maggie, i've something to tell you -you know may-day is here -well, this very morning, at sunrise -the robins chirped "bessie!" so clear -all day long the wee birds singing -perched on the garden wall -called "bessie, oh, bessie!" so sweetly -i couldn't feel sorry at all -now, maggie, i've something to tell you -let me lean up to you close -do you see how the sunset has flooded -the heavens with yellow and rose -do you see o'er the gilded cloud mountains -sister's golden hair streaming out -do you see her little hand beckoning -do you hear her little voice calling out -yes, sister, i'm coming; i'm coming -to play in god's garden at last - - -it takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home -a heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam -afore ye really 'preciate the things ye left behind -an' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind -it don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be -how much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury -it ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king -until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped 'round everything - -home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute -afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it -within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then -right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men -and gradjerly, as time goes on ye find ye wouldn't part -with anything they ever used--they've grown into yer heart -the old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore -ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumbmarks on the door - -ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit and sigh -an' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that death is nigh -an' in the stillness o' the night t' see death's angel come -an' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb -fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an' when yer tears are dried -ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified -an' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories -o' her that was an' is no more--ye can't escape from these - -ye've got t' sing and dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play -an' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day -even the roses 'round the porch must blossom year by year -afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear -who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em jes' t' run -the way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun -ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome -it takes a heap o' livin' in a house f' make it home - - - -whenever i walk to suffern along the erie track -i go by a poor old farm-house with its shingles broken and black -i suppose i've passed it a hundred times, but i always stop for a minute -and look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it - -i've never seen a haunted house, but i hear there are such things -that they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings -i know that house isn't haunted and i wish it were, i do -for it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two - -this house on the road to suffern needs a dozen panes of glass -and somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass -it needs new paint and shingles and vines should be trimmed and tied -but what it needs most of all is some people living inside - -if i had a bit of money and all my debts were paid -i'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade -i'd buy that place and fix it up the way that it used to be -and i'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free - -now a new home standing empty with staring window and door -looks idle perhaps and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store -but there's nothing mournful about it, it cannot be sad and lone -for the lack of something within it that it has never known - -but a house that has done what a house should do, a house that has -sheltered life -that has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife -a house that has echoed a baby's laugh and helped up his stumbling feet -is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet - -so whenever i go to suffern along the erie track -i never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back -yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen -apart -for i can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken -heart - - - -like liquid gold the wheat field lies -a marvel of yellow and russet and green -that ripples and runs, that floats and flies -with the subtle shadows, the change, the sheen -that play in the golden hair of a girl -a ripple of amber--a flare -of light sweeping after--a curl -in the hollows like swirling feet -of fairy waltzers, the colors run -to the western sun -through the deeps of the ripening wheat - -broad as the fleckless, soaring sky -mysterious, fair as the moon-led sea -the vast plain flames on the dazzled eye -under the fierce sun's alchemy -the slow hawk stoops -to his prey in the deeps -the sunflower droops -to the lazy wave; the wind sleeps -then swirling in dazzling links and loops -a riot of shadow and shine -a glory of olive and amber and wine -to the westering sun the colors run -through the deeps of the ripening wheat - -o glorious land! my western land -outspread beneath the setting sun -once more amid your swells, i stand -and cross your sod-lands dry and dun -i hear the jocund calls of men -who sweep amid the ripened grain -with swift, stern reapers; once again -the evening splendor floods the plain -the crickets' chime -makes pauseless rhyme -and toward the sun -the colors run -before the wind's feet -in the wheat - - - -i walked through the woodland meadows -where sweet the thrushes sing -and i found on a bed of mosses -a bird with a broken wing -i healed its wound, and each morning -it sang its old sweet strain -but the bird with a broken pinion -never soared as high again - -i found a young life broken -by sin's seductive art -and touched with a christlike pity -i took him to my heart -he lived with a noble purpose -and struggled not in vain -but the life that sin had stricken -never soared as high again - -but the bird with a broken pinion -kept another from the snare -and the life that sin had stricken -raised another from despair -each loss has its compensation -there is healing for every pain -but the bird with a broken pinion -never soars as high again - - - -it was in the days when claverhouse -was scouring moor and glen -to change, with fire and bloody sword -the faith of scottish men - -they had made a covenant with the lord -firm in their faith to bide -nor break to him their plighted word -whatever might betide - -the sun was well-nigh setting -when o'er the heather wild -and up the narrow mountain-path -alone there walked a child - -he was a bonny, blithesome lad -sturdy and strong of limb -a father's pride, a mother's love -were fast bound up in him - -his bright blue eyes glanced fearless round -his step was firm and light -what was it underneath his plaid -his little hands grasped tight - -it was bannocks which, that very morn -his mother made with care -from out her scanty store of meal -and now, with many a prayer - -had sent by jamie her ane boy -a trusty lad and brave -to good old pastor tammons roy -now hid in yonder cave - -and for whom the bloody claverhouse -had hunted long in vain -and swore they would not leave that glen -till old tam roy was slain - -so jamie douglas went his way -with heart that knew no fear -he turned the great curve in the rock -nor dreamed that death was near - -and there were bloody claverhouse men -who laughed aloud with glee -when trembling now within their power -the frightened child they see - -he turns to flee, but all in vain -they drag him back apace -to where their cruel leader stands -and set them face to face - -the cakes concealed beneath his plaid -soon tell the story plain -exclaimed the angry man - -and i will let you go -but jamie shook his yellow curls -and stoutly answered--"no - -and there upon the stones -the old gaunt wolf and carrion crow -shall battle for your bones - -and in his brawny, strong right hand -he lifted up the child -and held him where the clefted rocks -formed a chasm deep and wild - -so deep it was, the trees below -like stunted bushes seemed -poor jamie looked in frightened maze -it seemed some horrid dream - -he looked up at the blue sky above -then at the men near by -had _they_ no little boys at home -that they could let him die - -but no one spoke and no one stirred -or lifted hand to save -from such a fearful, frightful death -the little lad so brave - -so drop me down then, if you will -it is nae so deep as hell - -a childish scream, a faint, dull sound -oh! jamie douglas true -long, long within that lonely cave -shall tam roy wait for you - -long for your welcome coming -waits the mother on the moor -and watches and calls, "come, jamie, lad -through the half-open door - -no more adown the rocky path -you come with fearless tread -or, on moor or mountain, take -the good man's daily bread - -but up in heaven the shining ones -a wondrous story tell -of a child snatched up from a rocky gulf -that is nae so deep as hell - -and there before the great white throne -forever blessed and glad -his mother dear and old tam roy -shall meet their bonny lad - - -never mind me, uncle jared, never mind my bleeding breast -they are charging in the valley and you're needed with the rest -all the day long from its dawning till you saw your kinsman fall -you have answered fresh and fearless to our brave commander's call -and i would not rob my country of your gallant aid to-night -though your presence and your pity stay my spirit in its flight - -all along that quivering column see the death steed trampling down -men whose deeds this day are worthy of a kingdom and a crown -prithee hasten, uncle jared, what's the bullet in my breast -to that murderous storm of fire raining tortures on the rest -see! the bayonets flash and falter--look! the foe begins to win -see! oh, see our falling comrades! god! the ranks are closing in - -hark! there's quickening in the distance and a thundering in the air -like the roaring of a lion just emerging from his lair -there's a cloud of something yonder fast unrolling like a scroll -quick! oh, quick! if it be succor that can save the cause a soul -look! a thousand thirsty bayonets are flashing down the vale -and a thousand thirsty riders dashing onward like a gale - -raise me higher, uncle jared, place the ensign in my hand -i am strong enough to float it while you cheer that flying band -louder! louder! shout for freedom with prolonged and vigorous breath -shout for liberty and union, and the victory over death -see! they catch the stirring numbers and they swell them to the breeze -cap and plume and starry banner waving proudly through the trees - -mark our fainting comrades rally, see that drooping column rise -i can almost see the fire newly kindled in their eyes -fresh for conflict, nerved to conquer, see them charging on the foe -face to face with deadly meaning--shot and shell and trusty blow -see the thinned ranks wildly breaking--see them scatter to the sun -i can die, uncle jared, for the glorious day is won - -but there's something, something pressing with a numbness on my heart -and my lips with mortal dumbness fail the burden to impart -oh i tell you, uncle jared, there is something back of all -that a soldier cannot part with when he heeds his country's call -ask the mother what, in dying, sends her yearning spirit back -over life's rough, broken marches, where she's pointed out the track - -ask the dear ones gathered nightly round the shining household hearth -what to them is dearer, better, than the brightest things of earth -ask that dearer one whose loving, like a ceaseless vestal flame -sets my very soul a-glowing at the mention of her name -ask her why the loved in dying feels her spirit linked with his -in a union death but strengthens, she will tell you what it is - -and there's something, uncle jared, you may tell her if you will -that the precious flag she gave me, i have kept unsullied still -and--this touch of pride forgive me--where death sought our gallant host -where our stricken lines were weakest, there it ever waved the most -bear it back and tell her fondly, brighter, purer, steadier far - -but forbear, dear uncle jared, when there's something more to tell -when her lips with rapid blanching bid you answer how i fell -teach your tongue the trick of slighting, though 'tis faithful to the rest -lest it say her brother's bullet is the bullet in my breast -but if it must be that she learn it despite your tenderest care - -life is ebbing, uncle jared, my enlistment endeth here -death, the conqueror, has drafted--i can no more volunteer -but i hear the roll call yonder and i go with willing feet -through the shadows of the valley where victorious armies meet -raise the ensign, uncle jared, let its dear folds o'er me fall -strength and union for my country--and god's banner over all - - -every coin of earthly treasure -we have lavished upon earth -for our simple worldly pleasure -may be reckoned something worth -for the spending was not losing -tho' the purchase were but small -it has perished with the using -we have had it,--that is all - -all the gold we leave behind us -when we turn to dust again -tho' our avarice may blind us -we have gathered quite in vain -since we neither can direct it -by the winds of fortune tost -nor in other worlds expect it -what we hoarded we have lost - -but each merciful oblation -seed of pity wisely sown -what we gave in self-negation -we may safely call our own -for the treasure freely given -is the treasure that we hoard -since the angels keep in heaven -what is lent unto the lord - - - -whence come those shrieks so wild and shrill -that cut, like blades of steel, the air -causing the creeping blood to chill -with the sharp cadence of despair - -again they come, as if a heart -were cleft in twain by one quick blow -and every string had voice apart -to utter its peculiar woe - -whence came they? from yon temple, where -an altar, raised for private prayer -now forms the warrior's marble bed -who warsaw's gallant armies led - -the dim funereal tapers throw -a holy luster o'er his brow -and burnish with their rays of light -the mass of curls that gather bright -above the haughty brow and eye -of a young boy that's kneeling by - -what hand is that, whose icy press -clings to the dead with death's own grasp -but meets no answering caress -no thrilling fingers seek its clasp -it is the hand of her whose cry -rang wildly, late, upon the air -when the dead warrior met her eye -outstretched upon the altar there - -with pallid lip and stony brow -she murmurs forth her anguish now -but hark! the tramp of heavy feet -is heard along the bloody street -nearer and nearer yet they come -with clanking arms and noiseless drum -now whispered curses, low and deep -around the holy temple creep -the gate is burst; a ruffian band -rush in, and savagely demand -with brutal voice and oath profane -the startled boy for exile's chain - -the mother sprang with gesture wild -and to her bosom clasped her child -then, with pale cheek and flashing eye -shouted with fearful energy -too near the body of my dead -nor touch the living boy; i stand -between him and your lawless band -take _me_, and bind these arms--these hands -with russia's heaviest iron bands -and drag me to siberia's wild -to perish, if 'twill save my child - -tearing the pale boy from her side -and in his ruffian grasp he bore -his victim to the temple door -will land or gold redeem my son -take heritage, take name, take all -but leave him free from russian thrall -take these!" and her white arms and hands -she stripped of rings and diamond bands -and tore from braids of long black hair -the gems that gleamed like starlight there -her cross of blazing rubies, last -down at the russian's feet she cast -he stooped to seize the glittering store -up springing from the marble floor -the mother, with a cry of joy -snatched to her leaping heart the boy -but no! the russian's iron grasp -again undid the mother's clasp -forward she fell, with one long cry -of more than mortal agony - -but the brave child is roused at length -and, breaking from the russian's hold -he stands, a giant in the strength -of his young spirit, fierce and bold -proudly he towers; his flashing eye -so blue, and yet so bright -seems kindled from the eternal sky -so brilliant is its light - -his curling lips and crimson cheeks -foretell the thought before he speaks -with a full voice of proud command -he turned upon the wondering band - -this hour has made the boy a man -i knelt before my slaughtered sire -nor felt one throb of vengeful ire -i wept upon his marble brow -yes, wept! i was a child; but now -my noble mother, on her knee -hath done the work of years for me - -he drew aside his broidered vest -and there, like slumbering serpent's crest -the jeweled haft of poniard bright -glittered a moment on the sight -think ye my noble father's glaive -would drink the life-blood of a slave -the pearls that on the handle flame -would blush to rubies in their shame -the blade would quiver in thy breast -ashamed of such ignoble rest -no! thus i rend the tyrant's chain -and fling him back a boy's disdain - -a moment, and the funeral light -flashed on the jeweled weapon bright -another, and his young heart's blood -leaped to the floor, a crimson flood -quick to his mother's side he sprang -and on the air his clear voice rang -the choice was death or slavery -up, mother, up! look on thy son -his freedom is forever won -and now he waits one holy kiss -to bear his father home in bliss -one last embrace, one blessing,--one -to prove thou knowest, approvest thy son -what! silent yet? canst thou not feel -my warm blood o'er thy heart congeal -speak, mother, speak! lift up thy head -what! silent still? then art thou dead -rejoice with thee,--and thus--to die -one long, deep breath, and his pale head -lay on his mother's bosom,--dead - - - -i wrote some lines once on a time -in wondrous merry mood -and thought, as usual, men would say -they were exceeding good - -they were so queer, so very queer -i laughed as i would die -albeit, in the general way - -i called my servant, and he came -how kind it was of him -to mind a slender man like me -he of the mighty limb - -and, in my humorous way -i added (as a trifling jest - -he took the paper, and i watched -and saw him peep within -at the first line he read, his face -was all upon the grin - -he read the next; the grin grew broad -and shot from ear to ear -he read the third; a chuckling noise -i now began to hear - -the fourth; he broke into a roar -the fifth; his waistband split -the sixth; he burst five buttons off -and tumbled in a fit - -ten days and nights, with sleepless eye -i watched that wretched man -and since, i never dare to write -as funny as i can - - - -the shades of night were falling fast -as through an alpine village passed -a youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice -a banner with the strange device -excelsior - -his brow was sad his eye beneath -flashed like a falchion from its sheath -and like a silver clarion rung -the accents of that unknown tongue -excelsior - -in happy homes he saw the light -of household fires gleam warm and bright -above, the spectral glaciers shone -and from his lips escaped a groan -excelsior - -the roaring torrent is deep and wide -and loud the clarion voice replied -excelsior - -thy weary head upon this breast -a tear stood in his bright blue eye -but still he answered, with a sigh -excelsior - -beware the awful avalanche -this was the peasant's last good-night -a voice replied, far up the height -excelsior - -at break of day, as heavenward -the pious monks of saint bernard -uttered the oft-repeated prayer -a voice cried through the startled air -excelsior - -a traveller, by the faithful hound -half-buried in the snow was found -still grasping in his hand of ice -that banner with the strange device -excelsior - -there in the twilight cold and gray -lifeless, but beautiful, he lay -and from the sky, serene and far -a voice fell, like a falling star -excelsior - - - -the muffled drum's sad roll has beat -the soldier's last tattoo -no more on life's parade shall meet -that brave and fallen few -on fame's eternal camping ground -their silent tents are spread -and glory guards with solemn round -the bivouac of the dead - -no rumor of the foe's advance -now swells upon the wind -no troubled thought at midnight haunts -of loved ones left behind -no vision of the morrow's strife -the warrior's dream alarms -no braying horn or screaming fife -at dawn shall call to arms - -their shivered swords are red with rust -their plumèd heads are bowed -their haughty banner, trailed in dust -is now their martial shroud -and plenteous funeral tears have washed -the red stains from each brow -and the proud forms, by battle gashed -are free from anguish now - -the neighing troop, the flashing blade -the bugle's stirring blast -the charge, the dreadful cannonade -the din and shout are passed -nor war's wild note, nor glory's peal -shall thrill with fierce delight -those breasts that nevermore shall feel -the rapture of the fight - -like a fierce northern hurricane -that sweeps his great plateau -flushed with the triumph yet to gain -came down the serried foe -who heard the thunder of the fray -break o'er the field beneath -knew well the watchword of that day -was "victory or death - -full many a mother's breath hath swept -o'er angostura's plain -and long the pitying sky hath wept -above its moulder'd slain -the raven's scream, or eagle's flight -or shepherd's pensive lay -alone now wake each solemn height -that frowned o'er that dread fray - -sons of the "dark and bloody ground -ye must not slumber there -where stranger steps and tongues resound -along the heedless air -your own proud land's heroic soil -shall be your fitter grave -she claims from war its richest spoil -the ashes of her brave - -thus 'neath their parent turf they rest -far from the gory field -borne to a spartan mother's breast -on many a bloody shield -the sunshine of their native sky -smiles sadly on them here -and kindred eyes and hearts watch by -the heroes' sepulcher - -rest on, embalmed and sainted dead -dear as the blood ye gave -no impious footsteps here shall tread -the herbage of your grave -nor shall your glory be forgot -while fame her record keeps -or honor points the hallowed spot -where valor proudly sleeps - -yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone -in deathless song shall tell -when many a vanished year hath flown -the story how ye fell -nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight -nor time's remorseless doom -can dim one ray of holy light -that gilds your glorious tomb - - - -come to me, o ye children -for i hear you at your play -and the questions that perplexed me -have vanished quite away - -ye open the eastern windows -that look towards the sun -where thoughts are singing swallows -and the brooks of morning run - -in your hearts are the birds and the sunshine -in your thoughts the brooklet's flow -but in mine is the wind of autumn -and the first fall of the snow - -ah! what would the world be to us -if the children were no more -we should dread the desert behind us -worse than the dark before - -what the leaves are to the forest -with light and air for food -ere their sweet and tender juices -have been hardened into wood - -that to the world are children -through them it feels the glow -of a brighter and sunnier climate -than reaches the trunks below - -come to me, o ye children -and whisper in my ear -what the birds and the winds are singing -in your sunny atmosphere - -for what are all our contrivings -and the wisdom of our books -when compared with your caresses -and the gladness of your looks - -ye are better than all the ballads -that ever were sung or said -for ye are living poems -and all the rest are dead - - - - -there was a sound of revelry by night -and belgium's capital had gathered then -her beauty and her chivalry, and bright -the lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men -a thousand hearts beat happily; and when -music arose with its voluptuous swell -soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again -and all went merry as a marriage bell -but hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell - -did ye not hear it?--no; 'twas but the wind -or the car rattling o'er the stony street -on with the dance! let joy be unconfined -no sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet -to chase the glowing hours with flying feet -but, hark!--that heavy sound breaks in once more -as if the clouds its echo would repeat -and nearer, clearer, deadlier than before -arm! arm! it is--it is the cannon's opening roar - -ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro -and gathering tears, and tremblings of distress -and cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago -blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness -and there were sudden partings, such as press -the life from out young hearts, and choking sighs -which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess -if ever more should meet those mutual eyes -since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise - -and there was mounting in hot haste: the steed -the mustering squadron, and the clattering car -went pouring forward with impetuous speed -and swiftly forming in the ranks of war -and the deep thunder, peal on peal afar -and near, the beat of the alarming drum -roused up the soldier ere the morning star -while thronged the citizens with terror dumb -or whispering with white lips, "the foe! they come! they come - -last noon beheld them full of lusty life -last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay -the midnight brought the signal sound of strife -the morn the marshaling in arms,--the day -battle's magnificently stern array -the thunder clouds close o'er it, which when rent -the earth is covered thick with other clay -which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent -rider and horse--friend, foe--in one red burial blent - - - -this is the land where hate should die -no feuds of faith, no spleen of race -no darkly brooding fear should try -beneath our flag to find a place -lo! every people here has sent -its sons to answer freedom's call -their lifeblood is the strong cement -that builds and binds the nation's wall - -this is the land where hate should die -though dear to me my faith and shrine -respect the creeds that are not mine -he little loves his land who'd cast -upon his neighbor's word a doubt -or cite the wrongs of ages past -from present rights to bar him out - -this is the land where hate should die -this is the land where strife should cease -where foul, suspicious fear should fly -before the light of love and peace -then let us purge from poisoned thought -that service to the state we give -and so be worthy as we ought -of this great land in which we live - - - -and its organ was the finest and the biggest in the town -and the chorus--all the papers favorably commented on it -for 'twas said each female member had a forty-dollar bonnet - -now in the "amen corner" of the church sat brother eyer -who persisted every sabbath-day in singing with the choir -he was poor but genteel-looking, and his heart as snow was white -and his old face beamed with sweetness when he sang with all his might - -his voice was cracked and broken, age had touched his vocal chords -and nearly every sunday he would mispronounce the words -of the hymns, and 'twas no wonder, he was old and nearly blind -and the choir rattling onward always left him far behind - -the chorus stormed and blustered, brother eyer sang too slow -and then he used the tunes in vogue a hundred years ago -at last the storm-cloud burst, and the church was told, in fine -that the brother must stop singing, or the choir would resign - -then the pastor called together in the vestry-room one day -seven influential members who subscribe more than they pay -and having asked god's guidance in a printed pray'r or two -they put their heads together to determine what to do - -they debated, thought, suggested, till at last "dear brother york -who last winter made a million on a sudden rise in pork -rose and moved that a committee wait at once on brother eyer -and proceed to rake him lively "for disturbin' of the choir - -said he: "in that 'ere organ i've invested quite a pile -and we'll sell it if we cannot worship in the latest style -our philadelphy tenor tells me 'tis the hardest thing -fer to make god understand him when the brother tries to sing - -we pay the steepest sal'ry to our pastor, brother brown -but if we must humor ignorance because it's blind and old -if the choir's to be pestered, i will seek another fold - -of course the motion carried, and one day a coach and four -with the latest style of driver, rattled up to eyer's door -and the sleek, well-dress'd committee, brothers sharkey, york and lamb -as they crossed the humble portal took good care to miss the jamb - -they found the choir's great trouble sitting in his old arm chair -and the summer's golden sunbeams lay upon his thin white hair -he was singing "rock of ages" in a cracked voice and low -but the angels understood him, 'twas all he cared to know - -said york: "we're here, dear brother, with the vestry's approbation -to discuss a little matter that affects the congregation - -that it was to relieve us, that is, do the singing for us -if we rupture the agreement, it is very plain, dear brother -it will leave our congregation and be gobbled by another - -the latest tunes are all the rage; the old ones stand for naught -and so we have decided--are you list'ning, brother eyer -that you'll have to stop your singin' for it flurrytates the choir - -the old man slowly raised his head, a sign that he did hear -and on his cheek the trio caught the glitter of a tear -his feeble hands pushed back the locks white as the silky snow -as he answered the committee in a voice both sweet and low - -i'm sorry i disturb the choir, perhaps i'm doing wrong -but when my heart is filled with praise, i can't keep back a song - -in the far-off heav'nly temple, where the master i shall greet -yes, i wonder when i try to sing the songs of god up high'r -if the angel band will church me for disturbing heaven's choir - -a silence filled the little room; the old man bowed his head -the carriage rattled on again, but brother eyer was dead -yes, dead! his hand had raised the veil the future hangs before us -and the master dear had called him to the everlasting chorus - -the choir missed him for a while, but he was soon forgot -a few church-goers watched the door; the old man entered not -far away, his voice no longer cracked, he sang his heart's desires -where there are no church committees and no fashionable choirs - - - -the sweetest lives are those to duty wed -whose deeds, both great and small -are close knit strands of an unbroken thread -whose love ennobles all -the world may sound no trumpet, ring no bells -the book of life, the shining record tells -thy love shall chant its own beatitudes -after its own life-working. a child's kiss -set on thy singing lips shall make thee glad -a poor man served by thee shall make thee rich -a sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong -thou shalt be served thyself by every sense -of service thou renderest - - - -i saw him once before -as he passed by the door -and again -the pavement stones resound -as he totters o'er the ground -with his cane - -they say that in his prime -ere the pruning-knife of time -cut him down -not a better man was found -by the crier on his round -through the town - -but now he walks the streets -and he looks at all he meets -sad and wan -and he shakes his feeble head -that it seems as if he said - -the mossy marbles rest -on the lips that he has prest -in their bloom -and the names he loved to hear -have been carved for many a year -on the tomb - -my grandmamma has said -poor old lady, she is dead -long ago -that he had a roman nose -and his cheek was like a rose -in the snow - -but now his nose is thin -and it rests upon his chin -like a staff -and a crook is in his back -and a melancholy crack -in his laugh - -i know it is a sin -for me to sit and grin -at him here -but the old three-cornered hat -and the breeches, and all that -are so queer - -and if i should live to be -the last leaf upon the tree -in the spring -let them smile, as i do now -at the old forsaken bough -where i cling - - - -she's up there--old glory--where lightnings are sped -she dazzles the nations with ripples of red -and she'll wave for us living, or droop o'er us dead -the flag of our country forever - -she's up there--old glory--how bright the stars stream -and the stripes like red signals of liberty gleam -and we dare for her, living, or dream the last dream - -she's up there--old glory--no tyrant-dealt scars -no blur on her brightness, no stain on her stars -the brave blood of heroes hath crimsoned her bars -she's the flag of our country forever - - - -the melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year -of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear -heaped in the hollows of the grove, the withered leaves lie dead -they rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread -the robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay -and from the wood-top calls the crow, through all the gloomy day - -where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood -in brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood -alas! they all are in their graves; the gentle race of flowers -are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours -the rain is falling where they lie; but the cold november rain -calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again - -the wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago -and the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow -but on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood -and the yellow sun-flower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood -till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men -and the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade and glen - -and now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come -to call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home -when the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still -and twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill -the south wind searches for the flowers, whose fragrance late he bore -and sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more - -and then i think of one who in her youthful beauty died -the fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side -in the cold, moist earth we laid her when the forest cast the leaf -and we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief -yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours -so gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers - - - -the rich man's son inherits lands -and piles of brick, and stone, and gold -and he inherits soft white hands -and tender flesh that fears the cold -nor dares to wear a garment old -a heritage, it seems to me -one scarce would wish to hold in fee - -the rich man's son inherits cares -the bank may break, the factory burn -a breath may burst his bubble shares -and soft white hands could hardly earn -a living that would serve his turn -a heritage, it seems to me -one scarce would wish to hold in fee - -the rich man's son inherits wants -his stomach craves for dainty fare -with sated heart, he hears the pants -of toiling hinds with brown arms bare -and wearies in his easy-chair -a heritage, it seems to me -one scarce would wish to hold in fee - -what doth the poor man's son inherit -stout muscles and a sinewy heart -a hardy frame, a hardier spirit -king of two hands, he does his part -in every useful toil and art -a heritage, it seems to me -a king might wish to hold in fee - -what doth the poor man's son inherit -wishes o'erjoyed with humble things -a rank, adjudged by toil-won merit -content that from employment springs -a heart that in his labor sings -a heritage, it seems to me -a king might wish to hold in fee - -what doth the poor man's son inherit -a patience learned of being poor -courage, if sorrow come, to bear it -a fellow-feeling that is sure -to make the outcast bless his door -a heritage, it seems to me -a king might wish to hold in fee - -o rich man's son! there is a toil -that with all others level stands -large charity doth never soil -but only whiten, soft white hands -this is the best crop from thy lands -a heritage it seems to me -worth being rich to hold in fee - -o poor man's son! scorn not thy state -there is worse weariness than thine -in merely being rich and great -toil only gives the soul to shine -and makes rest fragrant and benign -a heritage, it seems to me -worth being poor to hold in fee - -both heirs to some six feet of sod -are equal in the earth at last -both, children of the same dear god -prove title to your heirship vast -by record of a well-filled past -a heritage, it seems to me -well worth a life to hold in fee - - - -oh, east is east, and west is west, and never the twain shall meet -till earth and sky stand presently at god's great judgment seat -but there is neither east nor west, border, nor breed, nor birth -when two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends -of the earth - -kamal is out with twenty men to raise the border side -and he has lifted the colonel's mare that is the colonel's pride -he has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and the day -and turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away -then up and spoke the colonel's son that led a troop of the guides -then up and spoke mahommed khan, the son of the ressaldar -at dust he harries the abazai--at dawn he is into bonair -but he must go by fort bukloh to his own place to fare -so if ye gallop to fort bukloh as fast as a bird can fly -by the favor of god ye may cut him off ere he win to the tongue of jagai -but if he be passed the tongue of jagai, right swiftly turn ye then -for the length and the breadth of that grisly plain is sown with kamal's -there is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn -between -and ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen -the colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw rough dun was he -with the mouth of a bell and the heart of hell, and the head of the -gallows-tree -the colonel's son to the fort has won, they bid him stay to eat -who rides at the tail of a border thief, he sits not long at his meat -he's up and away from fort bukloh as fast as he can fly -till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of the tongue of jagai -till he was aware of his father's mare with kamal upon her back -and when he could spy the white of her eye, he made the pistol crack -he has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball went wide -it's up and over the tongue of jagai, as blown dust-devils go -the dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe -the dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head above -but the red mare played with the snaffle-bars, as a maiden plays with a -glove -there was rock to the left and rock to the right, and low lean thorn -between -and thrice he heard a breech-bolt snick tho' never a man was seen -they have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hoofs drum up the dawn -the dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare like a new-roused fawn -the dun he fell at a water-course--in a woful heap fell he -and kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the rider free -he has knocked the pistol out of his hand--small room was there to strive -there was not a rock of twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree -but covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee -if i had raised my bridle-hand, as i have held it low -the little jackals that flee so fast, were feasting all in a row -if i had bowed my head on my breast, as i have held it high -the kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly -lightly answered the colonel's son: "do good to bird and beast -but count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast -if there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away -belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could pay -they will feed their horse on the standing crop, their men on the garnered -grain -the thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the cattle are -slain -but if thou thinkest the price be fair,--thy brethren wait to sup -the hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, howl, dog, and call them up -and if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack -give me my father's mare again, and i'll fight my own way back -kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet -may i eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath -what dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn with death -lightly answered the colonel's son: "i hold by the blood of my clan -take up the mare of my father's gift--by god, she has carried a man -the red mare ran to the colonel's son, and nuzzled against his breast -so she shall go with a lifter's dower, my turquoise-studded rein -my broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain -the colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-end -a friend -thy father has sent his son to me, i'll send my son to him -with that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain-crest -he trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest -and thou must ride at his left side as shield on shoulder rides -till death or i cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed -thy life is his--thy fate is to guard him with thy head -so thou must eat the white queen's meat, and all her foes are thine -and thou must harry thy father's hold for the peace of the border-line -and thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to power -belike they will raise thee to ressaldar when i am hanged in peshawur -they have looked each other between the eyes, and there they found no -fault -they have taken the oath of the brother-in-blood on leavened bread and -they have taken the oath of the brother-in-blood on fire and fresh-cut -on the hilt and the haft of the khyber knife, and the wondrous names of -the colonel's son he rides the mare and kamal's boy the dun -and two have come back to fort bukloh where there went forth but one -and when they drew to the quarter-guard, full twenty swords flew clear -there was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of the mountaineer -sides -last night ye had struck at a border thief--to-night 'tis a man of the -guides - -oh, east is east, and west is west, and never the two shall meet -till earth and sky stand presently at god's great judgment seat -but there is neither east nor west, border, nor breed, nor birth -when two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends -of the earth - - - -it was many and many a year ago -in a kingdom by the sea -that a maiden there lived whom you may know -by the name of annabel lee -and this maiden she lived with no other thought -than to love and be loved by me - -i was a child, and she was a child -in this kingdom by the sea -but we loved with a love that was more than love -i and my annabel lee -with a love that the winged seraphs of heaven -coveted her and me - -and this was the reason that, long ago -in this kingdom by the sea -a wind blew out of a cloud, chilling -my beautiful annabel lee -so that her highborn kinsmen came -and bore her away from me -to shut her up in a sepulchre -in this kingdom by the sea - -the angels, not half so happy in heaven -went envying her and me -yes! that was the reason (as all men know -in this kingdom by the sea -that the wind came out of the cloud by night -chilling and killing my annabel lee - -but our love it was stronger by far than the love -of those who were older than we -of many far wiser than we -and neither the angels in heaven above -nor the demons down under the sea -can ever dissever my soul from the soul -of the beautiful annabel lee - -for the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams -of the beautiful annabel lee -and the stars never rise, but i feel the bright eyes -of the beautiful annabel lee -and so all the night-tide, i lie down by the side -of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride -in her sepulchre there by the sea -in her tomb by the sounding sea - - - -there fell an april shower, one night -next morning, in the garden-bed -the crocuses stood straight and gold - -there fell an april shower, one night -next morning, thro' the woodland spread -the mayflowers, pink and sweet as youth - -there fell an april shower, one night -next morning, sweetly, overhead -the blue-birds sung, the blue-birds sung - - - -i come, i come! ye have called me long -i come o'er the mountains, with light and song -ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth -by the winds which tell of the violet's birth -by the primrose stars in the shadowy grass -by the green leaves opening as i pass - -i have breathed on the south, and the chestnut flowers -by thousands have burst from the forest bowers -and the ancient graves and the fallen fanes -are veiled with wreaths as italian plains -but it is not for me, in my hour of bloom -to speak of the ruin or the tomb - -i have looked o'er the hills of the stormy north -and the larch has hung all his tassels forth -the fisher is out on the sunny sea -and the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free -and the pine has a fringe of softer green -and the moss looks bright, where my step has been - -i have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh -and called out each voice of the deep blue sky -from the night-bird's lay through the starry time -in the groves of the soft hesperian clime -to the swan's wild note by the iceland lakes -when the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks - -from the streams and founts i have loosed the chain -they are sweeping on to the silvery main -they are flashing down from the mountain brows -they are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs -they are bursting fresh from their sparry caves -and the earth resounds with the joy of waves - - - -has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys -if there has take him out, without making a noise -hang the almanac's cheat and the catalogue's spite -old time is a liar! we're twenty tonight - -we're twenty! we're twenty! who says we are more -he's tipsy--young jackanapes!--show him the door -where the snowflakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze - -was it snowing i spoke of? excuse the mistake -look close--you will see not a sign of a flake -we want some new garlands for those we have shed -and these are white roses in place of the red - -we've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told -of talking (in public) as if we were old -that boy we call "doctor," and this we call "judge -it's a neat little fiction--of course it's all fudge - -that fellow's the "speaker"--the one on the right -that's our "member of congress," we say when we chaff -there's the "reverend" what's-his-name?--don't make me laugh - -that boy with the grave mathematical look -made believe he had written a wonderful book -and the royal society thought it was _true -so they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too - -there's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain -that could harness a team with a logical chain -when he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire -we called him "the justice," but now he's "the squire - -and there's a nice youngster of excellent pith -fate tried to conceal him by naming him smith -but he shouted a song for the brave and the free -just read on his medal, "my country," "of thee - -you hear that boy laughing? you think he's all fun -but the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done -the children laugh loud as they troop to his call -and the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all - -yes, we're boys--always playing with tongue or with pen -and i sometimes have asked, shall we ever be men -shall we always be youthful and laughing and gay -till the last dear companion drops smiling away - -then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray -the stars of its winter, the dews of its may -and when we have done with our life-lasting toys - - - -the day is cold, and dark, and dreary -it rains, and the wind is never weary -the vine still clings to the mouldering wall -but at every gust the dead leaves fall -and the day is dark and dreary - -my life is cold, and dark, and dreary -it rains, and the wind is never weary -my thoughts still cling to the mouldering past -but the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast -and the days are dark and dreary - -be still, sad heart! and cease repining -behind the clouds is the sun still shining -thy fate is the common fate of all -into each life some rain must fall -some days must be dark and dreary - - - -of the "house by the side of the way -our master had neither a house nor a home -but he walked with the crowd day by day -and i think, when i read of the poet's desire -that a house by the road would be good -but service is found in its tenderest form -when we walk with the crowd in the road - -so i say, let me walk with the men in the road -let me seek out the burdens that crush -let me speak a kind word of good cheer to the weak -who are falling behind in the rush -there are wounds to be healed, there are breaks we must mend -there's a cup of cold water to give -and the man in the road by the side of his friend -is the man who has learned to live - -then tell me no more of the house by the road -there is only one place i can live -it's there with the men who are toiling along -who are needing the cheer i can give -it is pleasant to live in the house by the way -and be a friend, as the poet has said -but the master is bidding us, "bear ye their load -for your rest waiteth yonder ahead - -i could not remain in the house by the road -and watch as the toilers go on -their faces beclouded with pain and with sin -so burdened, their strength nearly gone -i'll go to their side, i'll speak in good cheer -i'll help them to carry their load -and i'll smile at the man in the house by the way -as i walk with the crowd in the road - -out there in the road that goes by the house -where the poet is singing his song -i'll walk and i'll work midst the heat of the day -and i'll help falling brothers along -too busy to live in the house by the way -too happy for such an abode -and my heart sings its praise to the master of all -who is helping me serve in the road - - - -could we but draw back the curtains -that surround each other's lives -see the naked heart and spirit -know what spur the action gives -often we should find it better -purer than we judged we should -we should love each other better -if we only understood - -could we judge all deeds by motives -see the good and bad within -often we should love the sinner -all the while we loathe the sin -could we know the powers working -to o'erthrow integrity -we should judge each other's errors -with more patient charity - -if we knew the cares and trials -knew the effort all in vain -and the bitter disappointment -understood the loss and gain -would the grim, eternal roughness -seem--i wonder--just the same -should we help where now we hinder -should we pity where we blame - -ah! we judge each other harshly -knowing not life's hidden force -knowing not the fount of action -is less turbid at its source -seeing not amid the evil -all the golden grains of good -oh! we'd love each other better -if we only understood - - -she sat on the sliding cushion -the dear, wee woman of four -her feet, in their shiny slippers -hung dangling over the floor -she meant to be good; she had promised -and so, with her big, brown eyes -she stared at the meeting-house windows -and counted the crawling flies - -she looked far up at the preacher -but she thought of the honey bees -droning away at the blossoms -that whitened the cherry trees -she thought of a broken basket -where, curled in a dusky heap -lay snuggled and fast asleep - -such soft warm bodies to cuddle -such queer little hearts to beat -such swift, round tongues to kiss -such sprawling, cushiony feet -she could feel in her clasping fingers -the touch of a satiny skin -and a cold wet nose exploring -the dimples under her chin - -then a sudden ripple of laughter -ran over the parted lips -so quick that she could not catch it -with her rosy finger-tips -the people whispered, "bless the child -as each one waked from a nap -but the dear, wee woman hid her face -for shame in her mother's lap - - -it was an old, old, old, old lady -and a boy that was half past three -and the way that they played together -was beautiful to see - -she couldn't go running and jumping -and the boy, no more could he -for he was a thin little fellow -with a thin little twisted knee - -they sat in the yellow sunlight -out under the maple-tree -and the game that they played i'll tell you -just as it was told to me - -it was hide-and-go-seek they were playing -though you'd never have known it to be -with an old, old, old, old lady -and a boy with a twisted knee - -the boy would bend his face down -on his one little sound right knee -and he'd guess where she was hiding -in guesses one, two, three - -he would cry, and laugh with glee -it wasn't the china-closet -but he still had two and three - -in the chest with the queer old key -and she said: "you are _warm_ and _warmer -but you're not quite right," said she - -where mamma's things used to be -so it must be the clothes-press, gran'ma -and he found her with his three - -then she covered her face with her fingers -that were wrinkled and white and wee -and she guessed where the boy was hiding -with a one and a two and a three - -and they never had stirred from their places -right under the maple-tree -this old, old, old, old lady -and the boy with the lame little knee -this dear, dear, dear old lady -and the boy who was half past three - - - -they said, "the master is coming -to honor the town to-day -and none can tell at what house or home -the master will choose to stay -and i thought while my heart beat wildly -what if he should come to mine -how would i strive to entertain -and honor the guest divine - -and straight i turned to toiling -to make my house more neat -i swept, and polished, and garnished -and decked it with blossoms sweet -i was troubled for fear the master -might come ere my work was done -and i hasted and worked the faster -and watched the hurrying sun - -but right in the midst of my duties -a woman came to my door -she had come to tell me her sorrows -and my comfort and aid to implore -and i said, "i cannot listen -nor help you any, to-day -i have greater things to attend to -and the pleader turned away - -but soon there came another -a cripple, thin, pale and gray -and said, "oh, let me stop and rest -a while in your house, i pray -i have traveled far since morning -i am hungry, and faint, and weak -my heart is full of misery -and comfort and help i seek - -and i cried, "i am grieved and sorry -but i cannot help you to-day -i look for a great and noble guest -and the cripple went away -and the day wore onward swiftly -and my task was nearly done -and a prayer was ever in my heart -that the master to me might come - -and i thought i would spring to meet him -and serve him with utmost care -when a little child stood by me -with a face so sweet and fair -sweet, but with marks of teardrops -and his clothes were tattered and old -a finger was bruised and bleeding -and his little bare feet were cold - -and i said, "i'm sorry for you -you are sorely in need of care -but i cannot stop to give it -you must hasten otherwhere -and at the words, a shadow -swept o'er his blue-veined brow -but i am too busy now - -at last the day was ended -and my toil was over and done -my house was swept and garnished -and i watched in the dark--alone -watched--but no footfall sounded -no one paused at my gate -no one entered my cottage door -i could only pray--and wait - -i waited till night had deepened -and the master had not come -my labor had been for nothing -and i bowed my head and i wept -my heart was sore with longing -yet--in spite of it all--i slept - -then the master stood before me -and his face was grave and fair -and craved your pity and care -three times you sent me onward -unhelped and uncomforted -and the blessing you might have had was lost -and your chance to serve has fled - -how could i know it was thee -my very soul was shamed and bowed -in the depths of humility -and he said, "the sin is pardoned -but the blessing is lost to thee -for comforting not the least of mine -you have failed to comfort me - - - -i wish there were some wonderful place -called the land of beginning again -where all our mistakes and all our heartaches -and all our poor, selfish griefs -could be dropped, like a shabby old coat, at the door -and never put on again - -i wish we could come on it all unaware -like the hunter who finds a lost trail -and i wish that the one whom our blindness had done -the greatest injustice of all -could be at the gate like the old friend that waits -for the comrade he's gladdest to hail - -we would find the things we intended to do -but forgot and remembered too late -little praises unspoken, little promises broken -and all of the thousand and one -little duties neglected that might have perfected -the days of one less fortunate - -it wouldn't be possible not to be kind -in the land of beginning again -and the ones we misjudged and the ones whom we grudged -their moments of victory here -would find the grasp of our loving handclasp -more than penitent lips could explain - -for what had been hardest we'd know had been best -and what had seemed loss would be gain -for there isn't a sting that will not take wing -when we've faced it and laughed it away -and i think that the laughter is most what we're after -in the land of beginning again - -so i wish that there were some wonderful place -called the land of beginning again -where all our mistakes and all our heartaches -and all our poor, selfish griefs -could be dropped, like a ragged old coat, at the door -and never put on again - - - -prop yer eyes wide open, joey -fur i've brought you sumpin' great -apples? no, a derned sight better -don't you take no int'rest? wait -flowers, joe--i know'd you'd like 'em -ain't them scrumptious? ain't them high -tears, my boy? wot's them fur, joey -there--poor little joe--don't cry - -i was skippin' past a winder -w'ere a bang-up lady sot -all amongst a lot of bushes -each one climbin' from a pot -every bush had flowers on it -pretty? mebbe not! oh, no -wish you could 'a seen 'em growin -it was such a stunnin' show - -well, i thought of you, poor feller -lyin' here so sick and weak -never knowin' any comfort -and i puts on lots o' cheek -could i ax you for a rose -for my little brother, missus -never seed one, i suppose - -then i told her all about you -how i bringed you up--poor joe -sich a imp you was, you know -till you got that awful tumble -jist as i had broke yer in -blackin' boots for honest tin - -how that tumble crippled of you -so's you couldn't hyper much -joe, it hurted when i seen you -fur the first time with yer crutch -joe, she up and went to cuttin -that's the how of this bokay - -say! it seems to me, ole feller -you is quite yourself to-night -kind o' chirk--it's been a fortnit -sense yer eyes has been so bright -better? well, i'm glad to hear it -yes, they're mighty pretty, joe -smellin' of 'em's made you happy -well, i thought it would, you know - -never see the country, did you -flowers growin' everywhere -some time when you're better, joey -mebbe i kin take you there -flowers in heaven? 'm--i s'pose so -dunno much about it, though -ain't as fly as wot i might be -on them topics, little joe - -but i've heerd it hinted somewheres -that in heaven's golden gates -things is everlastin' cheerful -b'lieve that's what the bible states -likewise, there folks don't git hungry -so good people, w'en they dies -finds themselves well fixed forever -joe my boy, wot ails yer eyes - -thought they looked a little sing'ler -oh, no! don't you have no fear -heaven was made fur such as you is -joe, wot makes you look so queer -here--wake up! oh, don't look that way -joe! my boy! hold up yer head -here's yer flowers--you dropped em, joey -oh, my god, can joe be dead - - - -saint augustine! well hast thou said -that of our vices we can frame -a ladder, if we will but tread -beneath our feet each deed of shame - -all common things, each day's events -that with the hour begin and end -our pleasures and our discontents -are rounds by which we may ascend - -the low desire, the base design -that makes another's virtues less -the revel of the ruddy wine -and all occasions of excess - -the longing for ignoble things -the strife for triumph more than truth -the hardening of the heart, that brings -irreverence for the dreams of youth - -all thoughts of ill; all evil deeds -that have their root in thoughts of ill -whatever hinders or impedes -the action of the nobler will - -all these must first be trampled down -beneath our feet, if we would gain -in the bright fields of fair renown -the right of eminent domain - -we have not wings, we cannot soar -but we have feet to scale and climb -by slow degrees, by more and more -the cloudy summits of our time - -the mighty pyramids of stone -that wedge-like cleave the desert airs -when nearer seen, and better known -are but gigantic flights of stairs - -the distant mountains, that uprear -their solid bastions to the skies -are crossed by pathways, that appear -as we to higher levels rise - -the heights by great men reached and kept -were not attained by sudden flight -but they, while their companions slept -were toiling upward in the night - -standing on what too long we bore -with shoulders bent and downcast eyes -we may discern--unseen before -a path to higher destinies - -nor deem the irrevocable past -as wholly wasted, wholly vain -if, rising on its wrecks, at last -to something nobler we attain - - - -when i compare -what i have lost with what i have gained -what i have missed with what attained -little room do i find for pride - -i am aware -how many days have been idly spent -how like an arrow the good intent -has fallen short or been turned aside - -but who shall dare -to measure loss and gain in this wise -defeat may be victory in disguise -the lowest ebb in the turn of the tide - - - - -a fellow near kentucky's clime -cries, "boatman, do not tarry -and i'll give thee a silver dime -to row us o'er the ferry - -this dark and stormy water -and she john thompson's daughter - -with great precipitation -and should he find us here to-night -i'd lose my reputation - -his horsemen hard have pressed me -and who will cheer my bonny bride -if yet they shall arrest me - -out spoke the boatman then in time -i'll go not for your silver dime -but--for your manly spirit - -in danger shall not tarry -for though a storm is coming on -i'll row you o'er the ferry - -by this the wind more fiercely rose -the boat was at the landing -and with the drenching rain their clothes -grew wet where they were standing - -but still, as wilder rose the wind -and as the night grew drearer -just back a piece came the police -their tramping sounded nearer - -i'll leave the light of loving eyes -but not my father's money - -and still they hurried in the race -of wind and rain unsparing -john thompson reached the landing-place -his wrath was turned to swearing - -for by the lightning's angry flash -his child he did discover -one lovely hand held all the cash -and one was round her lover - -across the stormy water -my daughter, oh, my daughter - -the gold he piled went with his child -and he was left there, minus - - - -my grandfather's clock was too tall for the shelf -so it stood ninety years on the floor -it was taller by half than the old man himself -though it weighed not a pennyweight more -it was bought on the morn of the day that he was born -and was always his treasure and pride -but it stopped short ne'er to go again -when the old man died - -in watching its pendulum swing to and fro -many hours had he spent while a boy -and in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know -and to share both his grief and his joy -for it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door -with a blooming and beautiful bride -but it stopped short never to go again -when the old man died - -my grandfather said that of those he could hire -not a servant so faithful he found -for it wasted no time and had but one desire -at the close of each week to be wound -and it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face -and its hands never hung by its side -but it stopped short never to go again -when the old man died - - - -hush! my dear, lie still and slumber -holy angels guard thy bed -heavenly blessings without number -gently falling on thy head - -sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment -house and home, thy friends provide -all without thy care or payment -all thy wants are well supplied - -how much better thou'rt attended -than the son of god could be -when from heaven he descended -and became a child like thee - -soft and easy is thy cradle -coarse and hard thy saviour lay -when his birthplace was a stable -and his softest bed was hay - -blessed babe! what glorious features -spotless fair, divinely bright -must he dwell with brutal creatures -how could angels bear the sight - -was there nothing but a manger -cursed sinners could afford -to receive the heavenly stranger -did they thus affront their lord - -soft, my child: i did not chide thee -though my song might sound too hard -and her arm shall be thy guard - -telling wonders from the sky -where they sought him, there they found him -with his virgin mother by - -see the lovely babe a-dressing -lovely infant, how he smiled -when he wept, his mother's blessing -soothed and hush'd the holy child - -lo, he slumbers in a manger -where the hornèd oxen fed -peace, my darling, here's no danger -there's no ox anear thy bed - -trust and love him all thy days -then go dwell forever near him -see his face, and sing his praise - - - -if all the skies were sunshine -our faces would be fain -to feel once more upon them -the cooling splash of rain - -if all the world were music -our hearts would often long -for one sweet strain of silence -to break the endless song - -if life were always merry -our souls would seek relief -and rest from weary laughter -in the quiet arms of grief - - - -in a valley, centuries ago -grew a little fern leaf, green and slender -veining delicate and fibers tender -waving when the wind crept down so low -rushes tall, and moss, and grass grew round it -playful sunbeams darted in and found it -drops of dew stole down by night and crowned it -but no foot of man e'er came that way -earth was young and keeping holiday - -monster fishes swam the silent main -stately forests waved their giant branches -mountains hurled their snowy avalanches -mammoth creatures stalked across the plain -nature reveled in grand mysteries -but the little fern was not like these -did not number with the hills and trees -only grew and waved its sweet, wild way -no one came to note it day by day - -earth, one time, put on a frolic mood -heaved the rocks and changed the mighty motion -of the strong, dread currents of the ocean -moved the hills and shook the haughty wood -crushed the little fern in soft, moist clay -covered it, and hid it safe away -oh, the long, long centuries since that day -oh, the changes! oh, life's bitter cost -since the little useless fern was lost - -useless? lost? there came a thoughtful man -searching nature's secrets far and deep -from a fissure in a rocky steep -he withdrew a stone, o'er which there ran -fairy pencilings, a quaint design -leafage, veining, fibers, clear and fine -and the fern's life lay in every line -so, i think, god hides some souls away -sweetly to surprise us the last day - - - -cleon hath ten thousand acres -cleon dwelleth in a palace -cleon hath a dozen fortunes -yet the poorer of the twain is - -cleon, true, possesseth acres -half the charms to me it yieldeth -money cannot buy -cleon harbors sloth and dullness -he in velvet, i in fustian - -cleon is a slave to grandeur -cleon fees a score of doctors -wealth-surrounded, care-environed -cleon fears to die -death may come--he'll find me ready - -cleon sees no charms in nature -cleon hears no anthems ringing -nature sings to me forever -state for state, with all attendants - - - -great were the hearts and strong the minds -of those who framed in high debate -the immortal league of love that binds -our fair, broad empire, state with state - -and deep the gladness of the hour -when, as the auspicious task was done -in solemn trust the sword of power -was given to glory's unspoiled son - -that noble race is gone--the suns -of fifty years have risen and set -but the bright links, those chosen ones -so strongly forged, are brighter yet - -wide--as our own free race increase -wide shall extend the elastic chain -and bind in everlasting peace -state after state, a mighty train - - - -a parody on "curfew shall not ring tonight - -slow the kansas sun was setting -o'er the wheat fields far away -streaking all the air with cobwebs -at the close of one hot day -and the last rays kissed the forehead -of a man and maiden fair -he with whiskers short and frowsy -she with red and glistening hair -he with shut jaws stern and silent -she, with lips all cold and white -struggled to keep back the murmur - -and i have a real lover -though he's rather young and green -but he has a horse and buggy -and a cow and thirty hens -boys that start out poor, dear papa -make the best of honest men -but if towser sees and bites him -fills his eyes with misty light -he will never come again, pa -towser must be tied to-night - -like a carving knife through chicken -as it hunts the tender part -two of them are ripe to-day -towser must be loose to watch them -or they'll all be stole away -i have hoed them late and early -in dim morn and evening light -now they're grown i must not lose them -towser'll not be tied to-night - -then the old man ambled forward -opened wide the kennel-door -towser bounded forth to meet him -as he oft had done before -and the farmer stooped and loosed him -from the dog-chain short and stout -to himself he softly chuckled -but the maiden at the window -saw the cruel teeth show white -in an undertone she murmured - -then the maiden's brow grew thoughtful -and her breath came short and quick -till she spied the family clothesline -and she whispered, "that's the trick -from the kitchen door she glided -with a plate of meat and bread -towser wagged his tail in greeting -knowing well he would be fed -in his well-worn leather collar -tied she then the clothesline tight -all the time her white lips saying - -but the front gate's free and open -when john henry lifts the latch -for the clothesline tight is fastened -to the harvest apple tree -you can run and watch the melons -but the front gate you can't see -then her glad ears hear a buggy -and her eyes grow big and bright -while her young heart says in gladness - -up the path the young man saunters -with his eye and cheek aglow -for he loves the red-haired maiden -and he aims to tell her so -bessie's roguish little brother -in a fit of boyish glee -had untied the slender clothesline -from the harvest apple tree -then old towser heard the footsteps -raised his bristles, fixed for fight - -then old towser bounded forward -passed the open kitchen door -bessie screamed and quickly followed -but john henry's gone before -down the path he speeds most quickly -for old towser sets the pace -and the maiden close behind them -shows them she is in the race -then the clothesline, can she get it -and her eyes grow big and bright -and she springs and grasps it firmly - -oftentimes a little minute -forms the destiny of men -you can change the fate of nations -by the stroke of one small pen -towser made one last long effort -caught john henry by the pants -but john henry kept on running -for he thought that his last chance -but the maiden held on firmly -and the rope was drawn up tight -but old towser kept the garments -for he was not tied that night - -then the father hears the racket -with long strides he soon is there -when john henry and the maiden -crouching, for the worst prepare -at his feet john tells his story -shows his clothing soiled and torn -and his face so sad and pleading -yet so white and scared and worn -touched the old man's heart with pity -filled his eyes with misty light -towser shall be tied to-night - - -o liberty, thou child of law -god's seal is on thy brow -o law, her mother first and last -god's very self art thou -two flowers alike, yet not alike -on the same stem that grow -two friends who cannot live apart -yet seem each other's foe -one, the smooth river's mirrored flow -which decks the world with green -and one, the bank of sturdy rock -which hems the river in -o daughter of the timeless past -o hope the prophets saw -god give us law in liberty -and liberty in law - - - -beneath the hot midsummer sun -the men had marched all day -and now beside a rippling stream -upon the grass they lay -tiring of games and idle jest -as swept the hours along -they cried to one who mused apart - -are those my mother used to sing -for me long years ago -to every mother's son of us -a mother's songs are dear - -then sweetly rose the singer's voice -amid unwonted calm -a follower of the lamb -and shall i fear to own his cause -the very stream was stilled -and hearts that never throbbed with fear -with tender thoughts were filled - -ended the song, the singer said -as to his feet he rose -god grant us sweet repose -the soldier bent his head -then, glancing round, with smiling lips - -sweet as the bugle call -let angels prostrate fall -ah, wondrous was the old tune's spell -as on the soldiers sang -man after man fell into line -and loud the voices rang - -the songs are done, the camp is still -naught but the stream is heard -but, ah! the depths of every soul -by those old hymns are stirred -and up from many a bearded lip -in whispers soft and low -rises the prayer that mother taught -her boy long years ago - - -we all look on with anxious eyes -when father carves the duck -and mother almost always sighs -when father carves the duck -then all of us prepare to rise -and hold our bibs before our eyes -and be prepared for some surprise -when father carves the duck - -he braces up and grabs the fork -whene'er he carves the duck -and won't allow a soul to talk -until he carves the duck -the fork is jabbed into the sides -across the breast the knife he slides -while every careful person hides -from flying chips of duck - -the platter's always sure to slip -when father carves the duck -and how it makes the dishes skip -potatoes fly amuck -the squash and cabbage leap in space -we get some gravy in our face -and father mutters hindoo grace -whene'er he carves a duck - -we then have learned to walk around -the dining room and pluck -from off the window-sills and walls -our share of father's duck -while father growls and blows and jaws -and swears the knife was full of flaws -and mother laughs at him because -he couldn't carve a duck - - - -i was sitting in my study -writing letters when i heard -mamma mustn't be 'isturbed - -want some ozzer fing to do -witing letters, is 'ou, mamma -tan't i wite a letter too - -run and play with kitty, now -tan if 'ou will show me how - -i would paint my darling's portrait -as his sweet eyes searched my face -hair of gold and eyes of azure -form of childish, witching grace - -but the eager face was clouded -as i slowly shook my head -till i said, "i'll make a letter -of you, darling boy, instead - -so i parted back the tresses -from his forehead high and white -and a stamp in sport i pasted - -then i said, "now, little letter -go away and bear good news -and i smiled as down the staircase -clattered loud the little shoes - -leaving me, the darling hurried -down to mary in his glee -i'se a letter, mary--see - -no one heard the little prattler -as once more he climbed the stair -reached his little cap and tippet -standing on the entry stair - -no one heard the front door open -no one saw the golden hair -as it floated o'er his shoulders -in the crisp october air - -down the street the baby hastened -till he reached the office door -is there room for any more - -papa lives with god, 'ou know -mamma sent me for a letter -does 'ou fink 'at i tan go - -but the clerk in wonder answered - -fain the clerk would have detained him -but the pleading face was gone -and the little feet were hastening -by the busy crowd swept on - -suddenly the crowd was parted -people fled to left and right -as a pair of maddened horses -at the moment dashed in sight - -no one saw the baby figure -no one saw the golden hair -till a voice of frightened sweetness -rang out on the autumn air - -stood the beauteous vision there -then the little face lay lifeless -covered o'er with golden hair - -reverently they raised my darling -brushed away the curls of gold -saw the stamp upon the forehead -growing now so icy cold - -not a mark the face disfigured -showing where a hoof had trod -but the little life was ended - - -will you listen to me -who stole four eggs i laid -and the nice nest i made - -such a thing i'd never do -i gave you a wisp of hay -but didn't take your nest away -not i," said the cow, "moo-oo -such a thing i'd never do - -will you listen to me -who stole four eggs i laid -and the nice nest i made - -i wouldn't be so mean, anyhow -i gave the hairs the nest to make -but the nest i did not take -not i," said the dog, "bow-wow -i'm not so mean, anyhow - -will you listen to me -who stole four eggs i laid -and the nice nest i made - -i wouldn't treat a poor bird so -i gave the wool the nest to line -but the nest was none of mine -baa! baa!" said the sheep; "oh, no -i wouldn't treat a poor bird so - -what thief took away -a bird's nest to-day - -said little mary green -of anything so mean - -said little alice neal -how sad the bird would feel - -a little boy hung down his head -and went and hid behind the bed -for he stole that pretty nest -from poor little yellow-breast -and he felt so full of shame -he didn't like to tell his name - - - -i, who was always counted, they say -rather a bad stick anyway -splintered all over with dodges and tricks -known as "the worst of the deacon's six -i, the truant, saucy and bold -the one black sheep in my father's fold -went over the hill on a winter's day - -tom could save what twenty could earn -but _givin'_ was somethin' he ne'er would learn -isaac could half o' the scriptur's speak -committed a hundred verses a week -never forgot, an' never slipped -but "honor thy father and mother," he skipped - -as for susan, her heart was kind -an' good--what there was of it, mind -nothin' too big, an' nothin' too nice -nothin' she wouldn't sacrifice -for one she loved; an' that 'ere one -was herself, when all was said an' done -an' charley an' 'becca meant well, no doubt -but anyone could pull 'em about -an' all o' our folks ranked well, you see -save one poor fellow, an' that was me -an' when, one dark an' rainy night -a neighbor's horse went out o' sight -they hitched on me, as the guilty chap -that carried one end o' the halter-strap -an' i think, myself, that view of the case -wasn't altogether out o' place -my mother denied it, as mothers do -but i am inclined to believe 'twas true -though for me one thing might be said -that i, as well as the horse, was led -and the worst of whisky spurred me on -or else the deed would have never been done -but the keenest grief i ever felt -was when my mother beside me knelt -an' cried, an' prayed, till i melted down -as i wouldn't for half the horses in town -i kissed her fondly, then an' there -an' swore henceforth to be honest and square - -i served my sentence--a bitter pill -some fellows should take who never will -and then i decided to go "out west -concludin' 'twould suit my health the best -where, how i prospered, i never could tell -but fortune seemed to like me well -an' somehow every vein i struck -was always bubbling over with luck -an', better than that, i was steady an' true -an' put my good resolutions through -but i wrote to a trusty old neighbor, an' said -an' died a christian; 'twill please 'em more -than if i had lived the same as before - -but when this neighbor he wrote to me -i had a resurrection straightway -an' started for her that very day -and when i arrived where i was grown -i took good care that i shouldn't be known -but i bought the old cottage, through and through -of someone charley had sold it to -and held back neither work nor gold -to fix it up as it was of old -the same big fire-place, wide and high -flung up its cinders toward the sky -the old clock ticked on the corner-shelf -i wound it an' set it a-goin' myself -an' if everything wasn't just the same -neither i nor money was to blame - -one blowin', blusterin' winter's day -with a team an' cutter i started away -my fiery nags was as black as coal -i hitched, an' entered the poor-house door -a poor old woman was scrubbin' the floor -she rose to her feet in great surprise -and looked, quite startled, into my eyes -i saw the whole of her trouble's trace -in the lines that marred her dear old face -you're adopted along o' your horse thief son - -she didn't faint; she knelt by my side -an' thanked the lord, till i fairly cried -an' maybe our ride wasn't pleasant an' gay -an' maybe she wasn't wrapped up that day -an' maybe our cottage wasn't warm an' bright -an' maybe it wasn't a pleasant sight -to see her a-gettin' the evenin's tea -an' frequently stoppin' an' kissin' me -an' maybe we didn't live happy for years -in spite of my brothers' and sisters' sneers -who often said, as i have heard -that they wouldn't own a prison-bird -for all of 'em owe me more or less -but i've learned one thing; an' it cheers a man -in always a-doin' the best he can -that whether on the big book, a blot -gets over a fellow's name or not -whenever he does a deed that's white -it's credited to him fair and right -an' when you hear the great bugle's notes -an' the lord divides his sheep and goats -however they may settle my case -wherever they may fix my place -my good old christian mother, you'll see -will be sure to stand right up for me -with _over the hill from the poor-house - - - -i was mighty good-lookin' when i was young -peart an' black-eyed an' slim -with fellers a-courtin' me sunday nights - -the likeliest one of 'em all was he -chipper an' han'som' an' trim -but i tossed up my head an' made fun o' the crowds - -i said i hadn't no 'pinion o' men -an' i wouldn't take stock in him -but they kep' up a-comin' in spite o' my talk - -i got so tired o' havin' 'em roun -i made up my mind i'd settle down -an' take up with him - -so we was married one sunday in church - - -o'grady lived in shanty row -the neighbors often said -they wished that tim would move away -or that his goat was dead -he kept the neighborhood in fear -and the children always vexed -they couldn't tell jist whin or where -the goat would pop up next - -ould missis casey stood wan day -the dirty clothes to rub -upon the washboard, when she dived -headforemosht o'er the tub -she lit upon her back an' yelled -as she was lying flat -o'grady's goat doon that - -pat doolan's woife hung out the wash -upon the line to dry -she wint to take it in at night -but stopped to have a cry -the sleeves av two red flannel shirts -that once were worn by pat -were chewed off almost to the neck -o'grady's goat doon that - -they had a party at mccune's -an' they wor having foon -whin suddinly there was a crash -an' ivrybody roon -the iseter soup fell on the floor -an' nearly drowned the cat -the stove was knocked to smithereens -o'grady's goat doon that - -moike dyle was coortin' biddy shea -both standin' at the gate -an' they wor just about to kiss -aich oother sly and shwate -they coom togither loike two rams -an' mashed their noses flat -they niver shpake whin they goes by -o'grady's goat doon that - -o'hoolerhan brought home a keg -av dannymite wan day -to blow a cistern in his yard -an' hid the stuff away -but suddinly an airthquake coom -o'hoolerhan, house an' hat -an' ivrything in sight wint up -o'grady's goat doon that - -an' there was dooley's savhin's bank -that held the byes' sphare cash -one day the news came doon the sthreet -the bank had gone to smash -an' ivrybody 'round was dum -wid anger and wid fear -fer on the dhoor they red the whords - -the folks in grady's naborhood -all live in fear and fright -they think it's certain death to go -around there after night -an' in their shlape they see a ghost -upon the air afloat -an' wake thimselves by shoutin' out - - - -bethpeor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day - -by nebo's lonely mountain -on this side jordan's wave -in a vale in the land of moab -there lies a lonely grave -and no man knows that sepulchre -and no man saw it e'er -for the angels of god upturn'd the sod -and laid the dead man there - -that was the grandest funeral -that ever pass'd on earth -but no man heard the trampling -or saw the train go forth -noiselessly as the daylight -comes back when night is done -and the crimson streak on ocean's cheek -grows into the great sun - -noiselessly as the springtime -her crown of verdure weaves -and all the trees on all the hills -open their thousand leaves -so without sound of music -or voice of them that wept -silently down from the mountain's crown -the great procession swept - -perchance the bald old eagle -on gray beth-peor's height -out of his lonely eyrie -look'd on the wondrous sight -perchance the lion, stalking -still shuns that hallow'd spot -for beast and bird have seen and heard -that which man knoweth not - -but when the warrior dieth -his comrades in the war -with arms reversed and muffled drum -follow his funeral car -they show the banners taken -they tell his battles won -and after him lead his masterless steed -while peals the minute gun - -amid the noblest of the land -we lay the sage to rest -and give the bard an honor'd place -with costly marble drest -in the great minster transept -where lights like glories fall -and the organ rings, and the sweet choir sings -along the emblazon'd wall - -this was the truest warrior -that ever buckled sword -this was the most gifted poet -that ever breathed a word -and never earth's philosopher -traced with his golden pen -on the deathless page, truths half so sage -as he wrote down for men - -and had he not high honor -the hillside for a pall -to lie in state while angels wait -with stars for tapers tall -and the dark rock-pines like tossing plumes -over his bier to wave -and god's own hand, in that lonely land -to lay him in the grave - -in that strange grave without a name -whence his uncoffin'd clay -shall break again, o wondrous thought -before the judgment day -and stand with glory wrapt around -on the hills he never trod -and speak of the strife that won our life -with the incarnate son of god - -o lonely grave in moab's land -o dark beth-peor's hill -speak to these curious hearts of ours -and teach them to be still -god hath his mysteries of grace -ways that we cannot tell -he hides them deep like the hidden sleep -of him he loved so well - - - -alone in the dreary, pitiless street -with my torn old dress, and bare, cold feet -all day have i wandered to and fro -hungry and shivering, and nowhere to go -the night's coming on in darkness and dread -and the chill sleet beating upon my bare head -oh! why does the wind blow upon me so wild -is it because i am nobody's child - -just over the way there's a flood of light -and warmth, and beauty, and all things bright -beautiful children, in robes so fair -are caroling songs in their rapture there -i wonder if they, in their blissful glee -would pity a poor little beggar like me -wandering alone in the merciless street -naked and shivering, and nothing to eat - -oh! what shall i do when the night comes down -in its terrible blackness all over the town -shall i lay me down 'neath the angry sky -on the cold, hard pavement, alone to die -when the beautiful children their prayers have said -and their mammas have tucked them up snugly in bed -for no dear mother on me ever smiled -why is it, i wonder, i'm nobody's child - -no father, no mother, no sister, not one -in all the world loves me--e'en the little dogs run -when i wander too near them; 'tis wondrous to see -how everything shrinks from a beggar like me -perhaps 'tis a dream; but sometimes, when i lie -gazing far up in the dark blue sky -watching for hours some large bright star -i fancy the beautiful gates are ajar - -and a host of white-robed, nameless things -come fluttering o'er me on gilded wings -a hand that is strangely soft and fair -caresses gently my tangled hair -and a voice like the carol of some wild bird -the sweetest voice that was ever heard -calls me many a dear, pet name -till my heart and spirit are all aflame - -they tell me of such unbounded love -and bid me come to their home above -and then with such pitiful, sad surprise -they look at me with their sweet, tender eyes -and it seems to me, out of the dreary night -i am going up to that world of light -and away from the hunger and storm so wild -i am sure i shall then be somebody's child - - - -like a dream, it all comes o'er me as i hear the christmas bells -like a dream it floats before me, while the christmas anthem swells -like a dream it bears me onward in the silent, mystic flow -to a dear old sunny christmas in the happy long ago - -and my thoughts go backward, backward, and the years that intervene -are but as the mists and shadows when the sunlight comes between -and all earthly wealth and splendor seem but as a fleeting show -as there comes to me the picture of a christmas long ago - -i can see the great, wide hearthstone and the holly hung about -i can see the smiling faces, i can hear the children shout -i can feel the joy and gladness that the old room seem to fill -e'en the shadows on the ceiling--i can see them dancing still - -i can see the little stockings hung about the chimney yet -i can feel my young heart thrilling lest the old man should forget -ah! that fancy! were the world mine, i would give it, if i might -to believe in old st. nicholas, and be a child to-night - -just to hang my little stocking where it used to hang, and feel -for one moment all the old thoughts and the old hopes o'er me steal -but, oh! loved and loving faces, in the firelight's dancing glow -there will never come another like that christmas long ago - -for the old home is deserted, and the ashes long have lain -in the great, old-fashioned fireplace that will never shine again -friendly hands that then clasped ours now are folded 'neath the snow -gone the dear ones who were with us on that christmas long ago - -let the children have their christmas--let them have it while they may -life is short and childhood's fleeting, and there'll surely come a day -when st. nicholas will sadly pass on by the close-shut door -missing all the merry faces that had greeted him of yore - -when no childish step shall echo through the quiet, silent room -when no childish smile shall brighten, and no laughter lift the gloom -when the shadows that fall 'round us in the fire-light's fitful glow -shall be ghosts of those who sat there in the christmas long ago - - -one sweetly solemn thought -comes to me o'er and o'er -i am nearer home to-day -than i've ever been before - -nearer my father's house -where the many mansions be -nearer the great white throne -nearer the jasper sea - -nearer the bound of life -where we lay our burdens down -nearer leaving the cross -nearer gaining the crown - -but lying darkly between -winding down through the night -is the dim and unknown stream -that leads at last to the light - -closer and closer my steps -come to the dark abysm -closer death to my lips -presses the awful chrism - -father, perfect my trust -strengthen the might of my faith -let me feel as i would when i stand -on the rock of the shore of death - -feel as i would when my feet -are slipping o'er the brink -for it may be i am nearer home -nearer now than i think - - - -grandma told me all about it -told me so i could not doubt it -how she danced, my grandma danced, long ago -how she held her pretty head -how her dainty skirts she spread -how she turned her little toes -smiling little human rose - -grandma's hair was bright and shining -dimpled cheeks, too! ah! how funny -bless me, now she wears a cap -my grandma does, and takes a nap every single day -yet she danced the minuet long ago -now she sits there rocking, rocking -always knitting grandpa's stocking -every girl was taught to knit long ago -but her figure is so neat -and her ways so staid and sweet -i can almost see her now -bending to her partner's bow, long ago - -grandma says our modern jumping -rushing, whirling, dashing, bumping -would have shocked the gentle people long ago -no, they moved with stately grace -everything in proper place -gliding slowly forward, then -slowly courtesying back again - -modern ways are quite alarming, grandma says -but boys were charming -girls and boys i mean, of course--long ago -sweetly modest, bravely shy -what if all of us should try just to feel -like those who met in the stately minuet, long ago -with the minuet in fashion -who could fly into a passion -all would wear the calm they wore long ago -and if in years to come, perchance -i tell my grandchild of our dance -i should really like to say -we did it in some such way, long ago - - - -roger's my dog--come here, you scamp -jump for the gentleman--mind your eye -over the table--look out for the lamp -the rogue is growing a little old -five years we've tramped through wind and weather -and slept outdoors when nights were cold -and ate, and drank--and starved together - -we've learned what comfort is, i tell you -a bed on the floor, a bit of rosin -a fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow -the paw he holds up there has been frozen -plenty of catgut for my fiddle -then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle -and roger and i set up for kings - -no, thank you, sir, i never drink -roger and i are exceedingly moral -aren't we, roger? see him wink -well, something hot then, we won't quarrel -he's thirsty, too--see him nod his head -what a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk -he understands every word that's said -and he knows good milk from water and chalk - -the truth is, sir, now i reflect -i've been so sadly given to grog -i wonder i've not lost the respect -but he sticks by through thick and thin -and this old coat with its empty pockets -and rags that smell of tobacco and gin -he'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets - -there isn't another creature living -would do it, and prove, through every disaster -so fond, so faithful, and so forgiving -to such a miserable, thankless master -no, sir! see him wag his tail and grin -by george! it makes my old eyes water -that is, there's something in this gin -that chokes a fellow, but no matter - -we'll have some music, if you're willing -and roger (hem! what a plague a cough is, sir -shall march a little.--start, you villain -paws up! eyes front! salute your officer -your cap while the gentleman gives a trifle -to aid a poor old patriot soldier - -march! halt! now show how the rebel shakes -when he stands up to hear his sentence -now tell me how many drams it takes -to honor a jolly new acquaintance -five yelps--that's five; he's mighty knowing -the night's before us, fill the glasses -quick, sir! i'm ill, my brain is going -some brandy,--thank you;--there,--it passes - -why not reform? that's easily said -but i've gone through such wretched treatment -sometimes forgetting the taste of bread -and scarce remembering what meat meant -that my poor stomach's past reform -and there are times when, mad with thinking -i'd sell out heaven for something warm -to prop a horrible inward sinking - -is there a way to forget to think -at your age, sir, home, fortune, friends -a dear girl's love,--but i took to drink -the same old story; you know how it ends -if you could have seen these classic features -you needn't laugh, sir; i was not then -such a burning libel on god's creatures -i was one of your handsome men - -if you had seen her, so fair, so young -whose head was happy on this breast -if you could have heard the songs i sung -when the wine went round, you wouldn't have guess'd -that ever i, sir, should be straying -from door to door, with fiddle and dog -ragged and penniless, and playing -to you to-night for a glass of grog - -she's married since,--a parson's wife -better the soberest, prosiest life -than a blasted home and a broken heart -i have seen her--once; i was weak and spent -on the dusty road; a carriage stopped -but little she dreamed as on she went -who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped - -you've set me talking, sir; i'm sorry -it makes me wild to think of the change -what do you care for a beggar's story -is it amusing? you find it strange -i had a mother so proud of me -if the happy spirits in heaven can see -the ruin and wretchedness here below - -another glass, and strong, to deaden -this pain; then roger and i will start -i wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden -aching thing, in place of a heart -he is sad sometimes, and would weep, if he could -no doubt, remembering things that were -a virtuous kennel, with plenty of food -and himself a sober, respectable cur - -i'm better now; that glass was warming -you rascal! limber your lazy feet -we must be fiddling and performing -for supper and bed, or starve in the street -not a very gay life to lead, you think -but soon we shall go where lodgings are free -and the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink -the sooner, the better for roger and me - - - -oh, a wonderful stream is the river of time -as it runs through the realm of tears -with a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme -and a boundless sweep and a surge sublime -as it blends with the ocean of years - -how the winters are drifting, like flakes of snow -and the summers, like buds between -and the year in the sheaf--so they come and they go -on the river's breast, with its ebb and flow -as it glides in the shadow and sheen - -there's a magical isle up the river of time -where the softest of airs are playing -there's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime -and a song as sweet as a vesper chime -and the junes with the roses are staying - -and the name of that isle is the long ago -and we bury our treasures there -there are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow -there are heaps of dust--but we love them so -there are trinkets and tresses of hair - -there are fragments of song that nobody sings -and a part of an infant's prayer -there's a lute unswept, and a harp without strings -there are broken vows and pieces of rings -and the garments that she used to wear - -there are hands that are waved, when the fairy shore -by the mirage is lifted in air -and we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar -sweet voices we heard in the days gone before -when the wind down the river is fair - -oh, remembered for aye be the blessed isle -all the day of our life till night -when the evening comes with its beautiful smile -and our eyes are closing to slumber awhile -may that "greenwood" of soul be in sight - - -note: the last line of this poem needs explanation. "greenwood" is the -name of a cemetery in brooklyn, n.y. "greenwood of soul" means the -soul's resting place, or heaven - - -in an attic bare and cheerless, jim the newsboy dying lay -on a rough but clean straw pallet, at the fading of the day -scant the furniture about him but bright flowers were in the room -crimson phloxes, waxen lilies, roses laden with perfume -on a table by the bedside open at a well-worn page -where the mother had been reading lay a bible stained by age -now he could not hear the verses; he was flighty, and she wept -with her arms around her youngest, who close to her side had crept - -blacking boots and selling papers, in all weathers day by day -brought upon poor jim consumption, which was eating life away -and this cry came with his anguish for each breath a struggle cost -papers, mister? morning papers?" then the cry fell to a moan -which was changed a moment later to another frenzied tone -it grows late, jack! night is coming. evening papers, here they are - -soon a mission teacher entered, and approached the humble bed -then poor jim's mind cleared an instant, with his cool hand on his head -ma's been reading of the saviour, and through him i see my way -he is with me! jack, i charge you of our mother take good care -when jim's gone! hark! boots or papers, which will i be over there -black yer boots, sir? shine 'em right up! papers! read god's book instead -better'n papers that to die on! jack--" one gasp, and jim was dead - -floating from that attic chamber came the teacher's voice in prayer -and it soothed the bitter sorrow of the mourners kneeling there -he commended them to heaven, while the tears rolled down his face -thanking god that jim had listened to sweet words of peace and grace -ever 'mid the want and squalor of the wretched and the poor -kind hearts find a ready welcome, and an always open door -for the sick are in strange places, mourning hearts are everywhere -and such need the voice of kindness, need sweet sympathy and prayer - - - -break, break, break -on thy cold gray stones, o sea -and i would that my tongue could utter -the thoughts that arise in me - -o well for the fisherman's boy -that he shouts with his sister at play -o well for the sailor lad -that he sings in his boat on the bay - -and the stately ships go on -to their haven under the hill -but o for the touch of a vanished hand -and the sound of a voice that is still - -break, break, break -at the foot of thy crags, o sea -but the tender grace of a day that is dead -will never come back to me - - - -don't kill the birds, the pretty birds -that sing about your door -soon as the joyous spring has come -and chilling storms are o'er -the little birds, how sweet they sing -oh! let them joyous live -and never seek to take the life -that you can never give - -don't kill the birds, the pretty birds -that play among the trees -should we dispense with these -the little birds, how fond they play -do not disturb their sport -but let them warble forth their songs -till winter cuts them short - -don't kill the birds, the happy birds -that bless the fields and grove -so innocent to look upon -they claim our warmest love -the happy birds, the tuneful birds -how pleasant 'tis to see -no spot can be a cheerless place -where'er their presence be - - - -i've got a letter, parson, from my son away out west -an' my old heart is heavy as an anvil in my breast -to think the boy whose future i had once so nicely planned -should wander from the right and come to such a bitter end - -i told him when he left us, only three short years ago -he'd find himself a-plowing in a mighty crooked row -he'd miss his father's counsel and his mother's prayers, too -but he said the farm was hateful, an' he guessed he'd have to go - -i know there's big temptations for a youngster in the west -but i believed our billy had the courage to resist -an' when he left i warned him of the ever waitin' snares -that lie like hidden serpents in life's pathway everywheres - -but bill, he promised faithful to be careful, an' allowed -that he'd build a reputation that'd make us mighty proud -but it seems as how my counsel sort o' faded from his mind -and now he's got in trouble of the very worstest kind - -his letters came so seldom that i somehow sort o' knowed -that billy was a-trampin' of a mighty rocky road -but never once imagined he would bow my head in shame -and in the dust would woller his old daddy's honored name - -he writes from out in denver, an' the story's mighty short -i jess can't tell his mother!--it'll crush her poor old heart -an' so i reckoned, parson, you might break the news to her -bill's in the legislature but he doesn't say what fur - - -an old man going a lone highway -came, at the evening cold and gray -to a chasm vast and deep and wide -the old man crossed in the twilight dim -the sullen stream had no fear for him -but he turned when safe on the other side -and built a bridge to span the tide - -your journey will end with the ending day -yon never again will pass this way -you've crossed the chasm, deep and wide -why build this bridge at evening tide - -the builder lifted his old gray head -a youth whose feet must pass this way -this chasm that has been as naught to me -to that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be -he, too, must cross in the twilight dim -good friend, i am building this bridge for him - - - -our band is few, but true and tried -our leader frank and bold -the british soldier trembles -when marion's name is told -our fortress is the good green wood -our tent the cypress tree -we know the forest round us -as seamen know the sea -we know its walls of thorny vines -its glades of reedy grass -its safe and silent islands -within the dark morass - -woe to the english soldiery -that little dread us near -on them shall light at midnight -a strange and sudden fear -when, waking to their tents on fire -they grasp their arms in vain -and they who stand to face us -are beat to earth again -and they who fly in terror deem -a mighty host behind -and hear the tramp of thousands -upon the hollow wind - -then sweet the hour that brings release -from danger and from toil -we talk the battle over -and share the battle's spoil -the woodland rings with laugh and shout -as if a hunt were up -and woodland flowers are gathered -to crown the soldier's cup -with merry songs we mock the wind -that in the pine-top grieves -and slumber long and sweetly -on beds of oaken leaves - -well knows the fair and friendly moon -the band that marion leads -the glitter of their rifles -the scampering of their steeds -across the moonlight plains -that lifts their tossing manes -a moment in the british camp -a moment--and away -back to the pathless forest -before the peep of day - -grave men there are by broad santee -grave men with hoary hairs -their hearts are all with marion -for marion are their prayers -and lovely ladies greet our band -with kindliest welcoming -with smiles like those of summer -and tears like those of spring -for them we wear these trusty arms -and lay them down no more -till we have driven the briton -forever from our shore - - - -the minstrel-boy to the war is gone -in the ranks of death you'll find him -his father's sword he has girded on -and his wild harp slung behind him -one sword, at least, thy rights shall guard -one faithful harp shall praise thee -the minstrel fell!--but the foeman's chain -could not bring his proud soul under -the harp he loved ne'er spoke again -for he tore its chords asunder -and said, "no chains shall sully thee -thou soul of love and bravery -thy songs were made for the pure and free -they shall never sound in slavery - - - -our old brown homestead reared its walls -from the wayside dust aloof -where the apple-boughs could almost cast -their fruitage on its roof -and the cherry-tree so near it grew -that when awake i've lain -in the lonesome nights, i've heard the limbs -as they creaked against the pane -and those orchard trees, o those orchard trees -i've seen my little brothers rocked -in their tops by the summer breeze - -the sweet-brier under the window-sill -which the early birds made glad -and the damask rose by the garden fence -were all the flowers we had -i've looked at many a flower since then -exotics rich and rare -that to other eyes were lovelier -but not to me so fair -o those roses bright, o those roses bright -i have twined them with my sister's locks -that are hid in the dust from sight - -we had a well, a deep old well -where the spring was never dry -and the cool drops down from the mossy stones -were falling constantly -and there never was water half so sweet -as that in my little cup -drawn up to the curb by the rude old sweep -which my father's hand set up -and that deep old well, o that deep old well -i remember yet the splashing sound -of the bucket as it fell - -our homestead had an ample hearth -where at night we loved to meet -there my mother's voice was always kind -and her smile was always sweet -and there i've sat on my father's knee -and watched his thoughtful brow -with my childish hand in his raven hair -that hair is silver now -but that broad hearth's light, o that broad hearth's light -and my father's look, and my mother's smile -they are in my heart to-night - - - -we were crowded in the cabin -not a soul would dare to sleep -it was midnight on the waters -and a storm was on the deep - -to be shattered by the blast -and to hear the rattling trumpet -thunder, "cut away the mast - -so we shuddered there in silence -for the stoutest held his breath -while the hungry sea was roaring -and the breakers talked with death - -as thus we sat in darkness -each one busy with his prayers -as he staggered down the stairs - -but his little daughter whispered -as she took his icy hand -just the same as on the land - -then we kissed the little maiden -and we spoke in better cheer -and we anchored safe in harbor -when the morn was shining clear - - - -whene'er a noble deed is wrought -whene'er is spoken a noble thought -our hearts, in glad surprise -to higher levels rise - -the tidal wave of deeper souls -into our inmost being rolls -and lifts us unawares -out of all meaner cares - -honor to those whose words or deeds -thus help us in our daily needs -and by their overflow -raise us from what is low - -thus thought i, as by night i read -of the great army of the dead -the trenches cold and damp -the starved and frozen camp - -the wounded from the battle-plain -in dreary hospitals of pain -the cheerless corridors -the cold and stony floors - -lo! in that house of misery -a lady with a lamp i see -pass through the glimmering gloom -and flit from room to room - -and slow, as in a dream of bliss -the speechless sufferer turns to kiss -her shadow, as it falls -upon the darkening walls - -as if a door in heaven should be -opened and then closed suddenly -the vision came and went -the light shone and was spent - -on england's annals, through the long -hereafter of her speech and song -that light its rays shall cast -from portals of the past - -a lady with a lamp shall stand -in the great history of the land -a noble type of good -heroic womanhood - -nor even shall be wanting here -the palm, the lily, and the spear -the symbols that of yore -saint filomena bore - - - -the feast is o'er! now brimming wine -in lordly cup is seen to shine -before each eager guest -and silence fills the crowded hall -as deep as when the herald's call -thrills in the loyal breast - -then up arose the noble host -and, smiling, cried: "a toast! a toast -to all our ladies fair -here before all, i pledge the name -of staunton's proud and beauteous dame -the ladye gundamere - -then to his feet each gallant sprung -and joyous was the shout that rung -as stanley gave the word -and every cup was raised on high -nor ceased the loud and gladsome cry -till stanley's voice was heard - -and lowly bent his haughty head -now each in turn must play his part -and pledge the lady of his heart -like gallant knight and true - -then one by one each guest sprang up -and drained in turn the brimming cup -and named the loved one's name -and each, as hand on high he raised -his lady's grace or beauty praised -her constancy and fame - -on him are fixed those countless eyes -a gallant knight is he -envied by some, admired by all -far famed in lady's bower and hall -the flower of chivalry - -st. leon raised his kindling eye -and lifts the sparkling cup on high -deep graven on this grateful heart -till memory be dead - -when lighter passions long have past -so holy 'tis and true -to one, whose love hath longer dwelt -more deeply fixed, more keenly felt -than any pledged by you - -each guest upstarted at the word -and laid a hand upon his sword -with fury flashing eye -and stanley said: "we crave the name -proud knight, of this most peerless dame -whose love you count so high - -st. leon paused, as if he would -not breathe her name in careless mood -thus lightly to another -then bent his noble head, as though -to give that word the reverence due -and gently said: "my mother - - - -o for one hour of youthful joy -give back my twentieth spring -i'd rather laugh a bright-haired boy -than reign a gray-beard king - -off with the spoils of wrinkled age -away with learning's crown -tear out life's wisdom-written page -and dash its trophies down - -one moment let my life-blood stream -from boyhood's fount of flame -give me one giddy, reeling dream -of life all love and fame - -my listening angel heard the prayer -and, calmly smiling, said -thy hasty wish hath sped - -to bid thee fondly stay -while the swift seasons hurry back -to find the wished-for day - -ah! truest soul of womankind -without thee what were life -one bliss i cannot leave behind -i'll take--my--precious--wife - -the angel took a sapphire pen -and wrote in rainbow dew -and be a husband, too - -before the change appears -remember, all their gifts have fled -with those dissolving years - -my fond paternal joys -i could not bear to leave them all -i'll take--my--girl--and--boys - -the smiling angel dropped his pen -the man would be a boy again -and be a father too - -and so i laughed--my laughter woke -the household with its noise -and wrote my dream, when morning broke -to please the gray-haired boys - - - -the bells of mount vernon are ringing to-day -and what say their melodious numbers -to the flag blooming air? list, what do they say - -the world's monument stands the potomac beside -and what says the shaft to the river -death crowns him a hero forever - -the bards crown the heroes and children rehearse -the songs that give heroes to story -and what say the bards to the children? "no verse -can yet measure washington's glory - -and freedom shall triumph forever -and time must long wait the true song of his birth -who sleeps by the beautiful river - - - -april! april! are you here -oh, how fresh the wind is blowing -see! the sky is bright and clear -oh, how green the grass is growing -april! april! are you here - -april! april! is it you -see how fair the flowers are springing -sun is warm and brooks are clear -oh, how glad the birds are singing -april! april! is it you - -april! april! you are here -though your smiling turn to weeping -though your skies grow cold and drear -though your gentle winds are sleeping -april! april! you are here - - - -oh, such a commotion under the ground -when march called, "ho, there! ho -such spreading of rootlets far and wide -such whispering to and fro -and, "are you ready?" the snowdrop asked -then, "ha! ha! ha!" a chorus came -of laughter soft and low -from the millions of flowers under the ground -yes--millions--beginning to grow - -o, the pretty brave things! through the coldest days -imprisoned in walls of brown -they never lost heart though the blast shrieked loud -and the sleet and the hail came down - -but patiently each wrought her beautiful dress -or fashioned her beautiful crown -and now they are coming to brighten the world -still shadowed by winter's frown -and well may they cheerily laugh, "ha! ha -in a chorus soft and low -the millions of flowers hid under the ground -yes--millions--beginning to grow - - -god makes sech nights, all white an' still -fur 'z you can look or listen -moonshine an' snow on field an' hill -all silence an' all glisten - -zekle crep' up quite unbeknown -an' peeked in thru the winder -an' there sot huldy all alone - -a fireplace filled the room's one side -with half a cord o' wood in -there warn't no stoves (tell comfort died -to bake ye to a puddin - -the wa'nut logs shot sparkles out -towards the pootiest, bless her -an' leetle flames danced all about -the chiny on the dresser - -agin the chimbley crook-necks hung -an' in amongst 'em rusted -the ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther young -fetched back from concord busted - -the very room, coz she was in -seemed warm from floor to ceilin -an' she looked full ez rosy agin -ez the apples she was peelin - -on sech a blessed cretur -a dogrose blushin' to a brook -ain't modester nor sweeter - -he was six foot o' man, a 1 -clear grit an' human natur -none couldn't quicker pitch a ton -nor dror a furrer straighter - -he'd sparked it with full twenty gals -hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em -fust this one, an' then thet, by spells -all is, he couldn't love 'em - -but long o' her his veins 'ould run -all crinkly like curled maple -the side she breshed felt full o' sun -ez a south slope in ap'il - -she thought no v'ice hed sech a swing -ez hisn in the choir -my! when he made ole hunderd ring -she _knowed_ the lord was nigher - -an' she'd blush scarlet, right in prayer -when her new meetin'-bunnit -felt somehow thru its crown a pair -o' blue eyes sot upun it - -thet night, i tell ye, she looked _some -she seemed to 've gut a new soul -for she felt sartin-sure he'd come -down to her very shoe-sole - -she heered a foot, an' knowed it tu -a-raspin' on the scraper -all ways to once her feelin's flew -like sparks in burnt-up paper - -he kin' o' l'itered on the mat -some doubtfle o' the sekle -his heart kep' goin' pity-pat -but hern went pity zekle - -an' yit she gin her cheer a jerk -ez though she wished him furder -an' on her apples kep' to work -parin' away like murder - -agin to-morrer's i'nin - -to say why gals acts so or so -or don't, 'ould be presumin -mebby to mean _yes_ an' say _no -comes nateral to women - -he stood a spell on one foot fust -then stood a spell on t'other -an' on which one he felt the wust -he couldn't ha' told ye nuther - -says he, "i'd better call agin -says she, "think likely, mister -thet last work pricked him like a pin -an'--wal, he up an' kist her - -when ma bimeby upon 'em slips -huldy sot pale ez ashes -all kin' o' smily roun' the lips -an' teary roun' the lashes - -for she was jes' the quiet kind -whose naturs never vary -like streams that keep a summer mind -snowhid in jenooary - -the blood clost roun' her heart felt glued -too tight for all expressin -tell mother see how metters stood -an' gin 'em both her blessin - -then her red come back like the tide -down to the bay o' fundy -an' all i know is they was cried -in meetin' come nex' sunday - - - -it was the twilight hour -behind the western hill the sun had sunk -leaving the evening sky aglow with crimson light -the air is filled with fragrance and with sound -high in the tops of shadowy vine-wreathed trees -grave parent-birds were twittering good-night songs -to still their restless brood -across the way -a noisy little brook made pleasant -music on the summer air -and farther on, the sweet, faint sound -of whippoorwill falls rose on the air, and fell -like some sweet chant at vespers -the air is heavy -with the scent of mignonette and rose -and from the beds of flowers the tall -white lilies point like angel fingers upward -casting on the air an incense sweet -that brings to mind the old, old story -of the alabaster box that loving mary -broke upon the master's feet - -upon his vine-wreathed porch -an old white-headed man sits dreaming -happy, happy dreams of days that are no more -and listening to the quaint old song -with which his daughter lulled her child to rest - -the darkness deepens -lord, with me abide - -and as he listens to the sounds that fill the -summer air, sweet, dreamy thoughts -of his "lost youth" come crowding thickly up -and, for a while, he seems a boy again -with feet all bare -he wades the rippling brook, and with a boyish shout -gathers the violets blue, and nodding ferns -that wave a welcome from the other side -with those he wreathes -the sunny head of little nell, a neighbor's child -companion of his sorrows and his joys -sweet, dainty nell, whose baby life -seemed early linked with his -and whom he loved with all a boy's devotion - -long years have flown -no longer boy and girl, but man and woman grown -they stand again beside the brook, that murmurs -ever in its course, nor stays for time nor man -and tell the old, old story -and promise to be true till life for them shall end - -again the years roll on -and they are old. the frost of age -has touched the once-brown hair -and left it white as are the chaliced lilies -children, whose rosy lips once claimed -a father's blessing and a mother's love -have grown to man's estate, save two -whom god called early home to wait -for them in heaven - -and then the old man thinks -how on a night like this, when faint -and sweet as half-remembered dreams -old whippoorwill falls did murmur soft -its evening psalms, when fragrant lilies -pointed up the way her christ had gone -god called the wife and mother home -and bade him wait -oh! why is it so hard for -man to wait? to sit with folded hands -apart, amid the busy throng -and hear the buzz and hum of toil around -to see men reap and bind the golden sheaves -of earthly fruits, while he looks idly on -and knows he may not join -but only wait till god has said, "enough -and calls him home - -and thus the old man dreams -and then awakes; awakes to hear -the sweet old song just dying -on the pulsing evening air - -and comforts flee -lord of the helpless -oh, abide with me - - - -god said: i am tired of kings -i suffer them no more -up to my ear the morning brings -the outrage of the poor - -think ye i have made this ball -a field of havoc and war -where tyrants great and tyrants small -might harry the weak and poor - -my angel--his name is freedom -choose him to be your king -he shall cut pathways east and west -and fend you with his wing - -i will never have a noble -no lineage counted great -fishers and choppers and plowmen -shall constitute a state - -and ye shall succor man -help them who cannot help again -beware from right to swerve - - - -the rosy clouds float overhead -the sun is going down -and now the sandman's gentle tread -comes stealing through the town -and, as he shakes his hand -straightway there lies on babies' eyes -his gift of shining sand -blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown -as shuts the rose, they softly close -when he goes through the town - -from sunny beaches far away -yes, in another land -he gathers up, at break of day -his store of shining sand -no tempests beat that shore remote -no ships may sail that way -his little boat alone may float -within that lovely bay -blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown -as shuts the rose, they softly close -when he goes through the town - -he smiles to see the eyelids close -above the happy eyes -and every child right well he knows -oh, he is very wise -but if, as he goes through the land -a naughty baby cries -his other hand takes dull gray sand -to close the wakeful eyes -blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown -as shuts the rose, they softly close -when he goes through the town - -so when you hear the sandman's song -sound through the twilight sweet -be sure you do not keep him long -a-waiting in the street -lie softly down, dear little head -rest quiet, busy hands -till by your bed when good-night's said -he strews the shining sands -blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown -as shuts the rose, they softly close -when he goes through the town - - - -ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky -the flying cloud, the frosty light -the year is dying in the night -ring out, wild bells, and let him die - -ring out the old, ring in the new -ring, happy bells, across the snow -the year is going, let him go -ring out the false, ring in the true - -ring out the grief that saps the mind -for those that here we see no more -ring out the feud of rich and poor -ring in redress to all mankind - -ring out a slowly dying cause -and ancient forms of party strife -ring in the nobler modes of life -with sweeter manners, purer laws - -ring out false pride in place and blood -the civic slander and the spite -ring in the love of truth and right -ring in the common love of good - -ring out old shapes of foul disease -ring out the narrowing lust of gold -ring out the thousand wars of old -ring in the thousand years of peace - -ring in the valiant man and free -the larger heart, the kindlier hand -ring out the darkness of the land -ring in the christ that is to be - - - -among the legends sung or said -along our rocky shore -the wishing bridge of marblehead -may well be sung once more - -an hundred years ago (so ran -the old-time story) all -good wishes said above its span -would, soon or late, befall - -if pure and earnest, never failed -the prayers of man or maid -for him who on the deep sea sailed -for her at home who stayed - -once thither came two girls from school -and wished in childish glee -and one would be a queen and rule -and one the world would see - -time passed; with change of hopes and fears -and in the selfsame place -two women, gray with middle years -stood wondering, face to face - -with wakened memories, as they met -they queried what had been -said one, "i am a queen - -where, lacking crown and throne -i rule by loving services -and patient toil alone - -the other said: "the great world lies -beyond me as it laid -o'er love's and duty's boundaries -my feet have never strayed - -its common sounds i hear -my widowed mother's sick-bed room -sufficeth for my sphere - -of travel far and wide -and in a dreamy pilgrimage -we wander side by side - -my book becomes to me -a magic glass: my watch i keep -but all the world i see - -while fancy's privilege -is mine to walk the earth at will -thanks to the wishing bridge - -the other cried, "and say -god gives the wishes of our youth -but in his own best way - - - -these are the things i hold divine -a trusting chi id's hand laid in mine -rich brown earth and wind-tossed trees -the taste of grapes and the drone of bees -a rhythmic gallop, long june days -a rose-hedged lane and lovers' lays -the welcome smile on neighbors' faces -cool, wide hills and open places -breeze-blown fields of silver rye -the wild, sweet note of the plover's cry -fresh spring showers and scent of box -the soft, pale tint of the garden phlox -lilacs blooming, a drowsy noon -a flight of geese and an autumn moon -rolling meadows and storm-washed heights -a fountain murmur on summer nights -a dappled fawn in the forest hush -simple words and the song of a thrush -rose-red dawns and a mate to share -with comrade soul my gypsy fare -a waiting fire when the twilight ends -a gallant heart and the voice of friends - - - -the bravest battle that ever was fought -shall i tell you where and when -on the map of the world you will find it not - -nay, not with cannon or battle shot -with sword or nobler pen -nay, not with eloquent words or thought -from mouths of wonderful men - -but deep in the walled-up woman's heart -of woman that would not yield -but bravely, silently, bore her part -lo, there is that battle field - -no marshaling troup, no bivouac song -no banner to gleam or wave -but oh! these battles, they last so long -from babyhood to the grave - -yet, faithful as a bridge of stars -she fights in her walled-up town -fights on and on in the endless wars -then, silent, unseen, goes down - -oh, ye with banner and battle shot -and soldiers to shout and praise -i tell you the kingliest victories fought -were fought in those silent ways - -oh, spotless in a world of shame -with splendid and silent scorn -go back to god as white as you came -the kingliest warrior born - - - -what to a novice she could say -of courtship, love and matrimony -quoth echo plainly,--'matter-o'-money - -a dashing damsel, gay and pert -a pattern of inconstancy -or selfish, mercenary flirt -quoth echo, sharply,--'nary flirt - -that long has lured the dear deceiver -she promise to amend her life -and sin no more; can i believe her -quoth echo, very promptly;--'leave her - -on me should venture to bestow it -pray should i act the wiser part -to take the treasure or forgo it -quoth echo, with decision,--'go it - -to bind her fate in hymen's fetter -she vow she means to die a maid -in answer to my loving letter -quoth echo, rather coolly,--'let her - -i find my heart entwined about -with cupid's dear, delicious chain -so closely that i can't get out -quoth echo, laughingly,--'get out - -as pure and fair as heaven can make her -will share my labor and my rest -till envious death shall overtake her -quoth echo (sotto voce),-'take her - - - -life! i know not what thou art -but know that thou and i must part -and when, or how, or where we met -i own to me's a secret yet - -life! we've been long together -through pleasant and through cloudy weather -perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear - -then steal away; give little warning -choose thine own time -say not good night, but in some brighter clime -bid me good morning - - - -in the hush and the lonely silence -of the chill october night -some wizard has worked his magic -with fairy fingers light - -the leaves of the sturdy oak trees -are splendid with crimson and red -and the golden flags of the maple -are fluttering overhead - -through the tangle of faded grasses -there are trailing vines ablaze -and the glory of warmth and color -gleams through the autumn haze - -like banners of marching armies -that farther and farther go -down the winding roads and valleys -the boughs of the sumacs glow - -so open your eyes, little children -and open your hearts as well -till the charm of the bright october -shall fold you in its spell - - - -not who you are, but what you are -that's what the world demands to know -just what you are, what you can do -to help mankind to live and grow -your lineage matters not at all -nor counts one whit your gold or gear -what can you do to show the world -the reason for your being here - -for just what space you occupy -the world requires you pay the rent -it does not shower its gifts galore -its benefits are only lent -and it has need of workers true -willing of hand, alert of brain -go forth and prove what you can do -nor wait to count o'er loss or gain - -give of your best to help and cheer -the more you give the more you grow -this message evermore rings true -in time you reap whate'er you sow -no failure you have need to fear -except to fail to do your best -what have you done, what can you do -that is the question, that the test - - - -out of the hills of habersham -down the valleys of hall -i hurry amain to reach the plain -run the rapid and leap the fall -split at the rock and together again -accept my bed, or narrow or wide -and flee from folly on every side -with a lover's pain to attain the plain -far from the hills of habersham -far from the valleys of hall - -all down the hills of habersham -all through the valleys of hall -the rushes cried "abide, abide -the wilful waterweeds held me thrall -the laving laurel turned my tide -the ferns and the fondling grass said "stay -the dewberry dipped for to work delay -and the little reeds sighed "abide, abide -here in the hills of habersham -here in the valleys of hall - -high o'er the hills of habersham -veiling the valleys of hall -the hickory told me manifold -fair tales of shade, the poplar tall -wrought me her shadowy self to hold -the chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine -o'erleaning, with flickering meaning and sign -said, "pass not, so cold, these manifold -deep shades of the hills of habersham -these glades in the valleys of hall - -and oft in the hills of habersham -and oft in the valleys of hall -the white quartz shone, and the smooth brookstone -did bar me of passage with friendly brawl -and many a luminous jewel lone -ruby, garnet, and amethyst -made lures with the lights of streaming stone -in the clefts of the hills of habersham -in the beds of the valleys of hall - -but oh, not the hills of habersham -and oh, not the valleys of hall -avail: i am fain for to water the plain -downward the voices of duty call -downward, to toil and be mixed with the main -the dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn -and a myriad flowers mortally yearn -and the lordly main from beyond the plain -calls o'er the hills of habersham -calls through the valleys of hall - - -scribner's sons - - -when mary ann dollinger got the skule daown thar on injun bay -i was glad, fer i like ter see a gal makin' her honest way -i heerd some talk in the village abaout her flyin' high -tew high for busy farmer folks with chores ter dew ter fly -but i paid no sorter attention ter all the talk ontell -she come in her reg-lar boardin' raound ter visit with us a spell -my jake an' her has been cronies ever since they could walk -an' it tuk me aback ter hear her kerrectin' him in his talk - -jake ain't no hand at grammar, though he hain't his beat for work -but i sez ter myself, "look out, my gal, yer a-foolin' with a turk -jake bore it wonderful patient, an' said in a mournful way -he p'sumed he was behindhand with the doin's at injun bay -i remember once he was askin' for some o' my injun buns -an' she said he should allus say, "them air," stid o' "them is" the ones -wal, mary ann kep' at him stiddy mornin' an' evenin' long -tell he dassent open his mouth for fear o' talkin' wrong - -one day i was pickin' currants down by the old quince tree -when i heerd jake's voice a-sayin', "be ye willin' ter marry me -an' mary ann kerrectin', "air ye willin', yeou sh'd say -our jake he put his foot daown in a plum decided way -hereafter i says 'craps,' 'them is,' 'i calk'late,' an' 'i be -ef folks don't like my talk they needn't hark ter what i say -but i ain't a-goin' to take no sass from folks from injun bay -i ask you free an' final, 'be ye goin' to marry me -an' mary ann sez, tremblin', yet anxious-like, "i be - - -whichever way the wind doth blow -some heart is glad to have it so -then blow it east, or blow it west -the wind that blows, that wind is best -my little craft sails not alone -a thousand fleets, from every zone -are out upon a thousand seas -and what for me were favoring breeze -might dash another with the shock -of doom upon some hidden rock - -i leave it to a higher will -to stay or speed me, trusting still -that all is well, and sure that he -who launched my bark will sail with me -through storm and calm, and will not fail -whatever breezes may prevail -to land me, every peril past -within his haven at the last -then blow it east, or blow it west -the wind that blows, that wind is best - - - - -the district school-master was sitting behind his great book-laden desk -close-watching the motions of scholars, pathetic and gay and grotesque -as whisper the half-leafless branches, when autumn's brisk breezes have -his little scrub-thicket of pupils sent upward a half-smothered hum -there was little tom timms on the front seat, whose face was withstanding -a drouth -and jolly jack gibbs just behind him, with a rainy new moon for a mouth -there were both of the smith boys, as studious as if they bore names that -could bloom -and jim jones, a heaven-built mechanic, the slyest young knave in the room -with a countenance grave as a horse's, and his honest eyes fixed on a pin -queer-bent on a deeply-laid project to tunnel joe hawkins's skin -there were anxious young novices, drilling their spelling-books into their -brain -loud-puffing each half-whispered letter, like an engine just starting its -train -there was one fiercely muscular fellow, who scowled at the sums on his -slate -and leered at the innocent figures a look of unspeakable hate -and set his white teeth close together, and gave his thin lips a short -twist -as to say, "i could whip you, confound you! could such things be done with -the fist -there were two knowing girls in the corner, each one with some beauty -possessed -in a whisper discussing the problem which one the young master likes best -a class in the front, with their readers, were telling, with difficult -pains -how perished brave marco bozzaris while bleeding at all of his veins -and a boy on the floor to be punished, a statue of idleness stood -making faces at all of the others, and enjoying the scene all he could - - -around were the walls, gray and dingy, which every old school-sanctum hath -with many a break on their surface, where grinned a wood-grating of lath -a patch of thick plaster, just over the school-master's rickety chair -seemed threat'ningly o'er him suspended, like damocles' sword, by a hair -there were tracks on the desks where the knife-blades had wandered in -search of their prey -their tops were as duskily spattered as if they drank ink every day -the square stove it puffed and it crackled, and broke out in red flaming -sores -till the great iron quadruped trembled like a dog fierce to rush -out-o'-doors -white snowflakes looked in at the windows; the gale pressed its lips to the -cracks -and the children's hot faces were streaming, the while they were freezing -their backs - - -now marco bozzaris had fallen, and all of his suff'rings were o'er -and the class to their seats were retreating, when footsteps were heard -at the door -and five of the good district fathers marched into the room in a row -and stood themselves up by the fire, and shook off their white cloaks of -and the spokesman, a grave squire of sixty, with countenance solemnly sad -spoke thus, while the children all listened, with all of the ears that -they had -concernin' complaints that's been entered, an' fault that has lately been -found -to pace off the width of your doin's, an' witness what you've been about -an' see if it's paying to keep you, or whether we'd best turn ye out - -you give 'em too tight of a reinin', an' touch 'em up more than they need -you're nicer than wise in the matter of holdin' the book in one han -an' you turn a stray _g_ in their _doin's_, an' tack an odd _d -on their _an -there ain't no great good comes of speakin' the words so polite, as i see -providin' you know what the facts is, an' tell 'em off jest as they be -an' then there's that readin' in corncert, is censured from first unto -it kicks up a heap of a racket, when folks is a-travelin' past -whatever is done as to readin', providin' things go to my say -shan't hang on no new-fangled hinges, but swing in the old-fashioned way -and the other four good district fathers gave quick the consent that was -and nodded obliquely, and muttered: "them 'ere is my sentiments tew -that you turn the _u_ out o' your _labour_, an' make the word shorter -than 'tis -an' clip the _k_ off yer _musick_, which makes my son ephraim perplexed -an' when he spells out as he ought'r, you pass the word on to the next -they say there's some new-grafted books here that don't take them letters -along -but if it is so, just depend on 't, them new-grafted books is made wrong -you might just as well say that jackson didn't know all there was about -as to say that old spellin'-book webster didn't know what them letters was -and the other four good district fathers gave quick the consent that was -and scratched their heads slyly and softly, and said: "them's my sentiments -is that you have left tare an' tret out, an' also the old rule o' three -an' likewise brought in a new study, some high-steppin' scholars to please -with saw-bucks an' crosses and pothooks, an' _w's, x's, y's_ an' _z's -we ain't got no time for such foolin'; there ain't no great good to be -reached -by tiptoein' childr'n up higher than ever their fathers was teached -and the other four good district fathers gave quick the consent that was -and cocked one eye up to the ceiling, and said: "them's my sentiments tew -concernin' some things in the grammar you're teachin' our gals for to say -my gals is as steady as clockwork, and never give cause for much fear -but they come home from school t'other evenin' a-talking such stuff as this -an' 'they -an' they answered my questions: 'it's grammar'--'twas all i could get 'em -to say -now if, 'stead of doin' your duty, you're carryin' matters on so -as to make the gals say that they love you, it's just all that i want to - - -now jim, the young heaven-built mechanic, in the dusk of the evening -before -had well-nigh unjointed the stovepipe, to make it come down on the floor -and the squire bringing smartly his foot down, as a clincher to what he had -a joint of the pipe fell upon him, and larruped him square on the head -the soot flew in clouds all about him, and blotted with black all the place -and the squire and the other four fathers were peppered with black in the -the school, ever sharp for amusement, laid down all their cumbersome books -and, spite of the teacher's endeavors, laughed loud at their visitors -looks -and the squire, as he stalked to the doorway, swore oaths of a violet hue -and the four district fathers, who followed, seemed to say: "them's my -sentiments tew - - - -if i were hanged on the highest hill -mother o' mine -oh, mother o' mine -i know whose love would follow me still -mother o' mine -oh, mother o' mine - -if i were drowned in the deepest sea -mother o' mine -oh, mother o' mine -i know whose tears would flow down to me -mother o' mine -oh, mother o' mine - -if i were damned o' body and soul -mother o' mine -oh, mother o' mine -i know whose prayers would make me whole -mother o' mine -oh, mother o' mine - - - -who dat knockin' at de do -why, ike johnson--yes, fu' sho -come in, ike. i's mighty glad -you come down. i t'ought you's mad -at me 'bout de othah night -an' was stayin' 'way fu' spite -say, now, was you mad fu' true -w'en i kin' o' laughed at you -speak up, ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f - -an' a-mekin' out you's mad -ef you's gwine to be so glum -wondah why you evah come -i don't lak nobidy 'roun -dat jes' shet dey mouf an' frown -oh, now, man, don't act a dunce -cain't you talk? i tol' you once -speak up, ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f - -wha'd you come hyeah fu' to-night -body'd t'ink yo' haid ain't right -i's done all dat i kin do -dressed perticler, jes' fu' you -reckon i'd a' bettah wo -my ol' ragged calico -aftah all de pains i's took -cain't you tell me how i look -speak up, ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f - -bless my soul! i 'mos' fu'got -tellin' you 'bout tildy scott -don't you know, come thu'sday night -she gwine ma'y lucius white -miss lize say i allus wuh -heap sight laklier 'n huh -an' she'll git me somep'n new -ef i wants to ma'y too -speak up, ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f - -i could ma'y in a week -if de man i wants 'ud speak -tildy's presents 'll be fine -but dey wouldn't ekal mine -him whut gits me fu' a wife -i's had offers, some ain't quit -but i hasn't ma'ied yit -speak up, ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f - -ike, i loves you--yes, i does -you's my choice, and allus was -laffin' at you ain't no harm -go 'way, dahky, whah's yo' arm -hug me closer--dah, da's right -wasn't you a awful sight -havin' me to baig you so -now ax whut you want to know -speak up, ike, an' 'spress yo'se'f - - - -the harp that once through tara's halls -the soul of music shed -now hangs as mute on tara's walls -as if that soul were fled -so sleeps the pride of former days -so glory's thrill is o'er -and hearts, that once beat high for praise -now feel that pulse no more - -no more to chiefs and ladies bright -the harp of tara swells -the chord alone, that breaks at night -its tale of ruin tells -thus freedom now so seldom wakes -the only throb she gives -is when some heart indignant breaks -to show that still she lives - - - -at paris it was, at the opera there -and she looked like a queen in a book that night -with the wreath of pearl in her raven hair -and the brooch on her breast so bright - -of all the operas that verdi wrote -the best, to my taste, is the trovatore -and mario can soothe, with a tenor note -the souls in purgatory - -the moon on the tower slept soft as snow -and who was not thrilled in the strangest way -as we heard him sing, while the gas burned low - -the emperor there, in his box of state -looked grave, as if he had just then seen -the red flag wave from the city gate -where his eagles in bronze had been - -the empress, too, had a tear in her eye -you'd have said that her fancy had gone back again -for one moment, under the old blue sky -to the old glad life in spain - -well, there in our front-row box we sat -my gaze was fixed on my opera hat -and hers on the stage hard by - -and both were silent, and both were sad -like a queen she leaned on her full white arm -with that regal, indolent air she had -so confident of her charm - -i have not a doubt she was thinking then -of her former lord, good soul that he was -who died the richest and roundest of men -the marquis of carabas - -i hope that, to get to the kingdom of heaven -through a needle's eye he had not to pass -i wish him well, for the jointure given -to my lady of carabas - -meanwhile, i was thinking of my first love -as i had not been thinking of aught for years -till over my eyes there began to move -something that felt like tears - -i thought of the dress that she wore last time -when we stood 'neath the cypress trees together -in that lost land, in that soft clime -in the crimson evening weather - -of that muslin dress (for the eve was hot -and her warm white neck in its golden chain -and her full soft hair, just tied in a knot -and falling loose again - -and the jasmine flower in her fair young breast -and the one bird singing alone to his nest -and the one star over the tower - -i thought of our little quarrels and strife -and the letter that brought me back my ring -and it all seemed then, in the waste of life -such a very little thing - -for i thought of her grave below the hill -which the sentinel cypress tree stands over -and i thought, "were she only living still -how i could forgive her and love her - -and i swear, as i thought of her thus, in that hour -and of how, after all, old things are best -that i smelt the smell of that jasmine flower -which she used to wear in her breast - -it smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet -it made me creep, and it made me cold -like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet -where a mummy is half unrolled - -and i turned and looked: she was sitting there -in a dim box over the stage, and drest -in that muslin dress, with that full, soft hair -and that jasmine in her breast - -i was here, and she was there -and the glittering horse-shoe curved between -from my bride betrothed, with her raven hair -and her sumptuous, scornful mien - -to my early love, with her eyes downcast -and over her primrose face the shade -there was but a step to be made - -to my early love from my future bride -one moment i looked. then i stole to the door -i traversed the passage; and down at her side -i was sitting, a moment more - -my thinking of her or the music's strain -or something which never will be exprest -had brought her back from the grave again -with the jasmine in her breast - -she is not dead, and she is not wed -but she loves me now, and she loved me then -and the very first word that her sweet lips said -my heart grew youthful again - -the marchioness there, of carabas -she is wealthy, and young, and handsome still -and but for her--well, we'll let that pass -she may marry whomever she will - -but i will marry my own first love -with her primrose face, for old things are best -and the flower in her bosom, i prize it above -the brooch in my lady's breast - -the world is filled with folly and sin -and love must cling where it can, i say -for beauty is easy enough to win -but one isn't loved every day - -and i think in the lives of most women and men -there's a moment when all would go smooth and even -if only the dead could find out when -to come back, and be forgiven - -but oh the smell of that jasmine flower -and oh, that music! and oh, the way -that voice rang out from the donjon tower - - - - -i love my prairies, they are mine -from zenith to horizon line -clipping a world of sky and sod -like the bended arm and wrist of god - -i love their grasses. the skies -are larger, and my restless eyes -fasten on more of earth and air -than seashore furnishes anywhere - -i love the hazel thickets; and the breeze -the never resting prairie winds. the trees -that stand like spear points high -against the dark blue sky - -are wonderful to me. i love the gold -of newly shaven stubble, rolled -a royal carpet toward the sun, fit to be -the pathway of a deity - -i love the life of pasture lands; the songs of birds -are not more thrilling to me than the herd's -mad bellowing or the shadow stride -of mounted herdsmen at my side - -i love my prairies, they are mine -from high sun to horizon line -the mountains and the cold gray sea -are not for me, are not for me - - - - -home they brought her warrior dead -she nor swoon'd, nor utter'd cry -all her maidens, watching, said -then they praised him, soft and low -call'd him worthy to be loved -truest friend and noblest foe -yet she neither spoke nor moved -stole a maiden from her place -lightly to the warrior stept -took the face-cloth from the face -yet she neither moved nor wept -rose a nurse of ninety years -set his child upon her knee -like summer tempest came her tears - - - -sweet is the voice that calls -from babbling waterfalls -in meadows where the downy seeds are flying -and soft the breezes blow -and eddying come and go -in faded gardens where the rose is dying - -among the stubbled corn -the blithe quail pipes at morn -the merry partridge drums in hidden places -and glittering insects gleam -above the reedy stream -where busy spiders spin their filmy laces - -at eve, cool shadows fall -across the garden wall -and on the clustered grapes to purple turning -and pearly vapors lie -along the eastern sky -where the broad harvest-moon is redly burning - -ah, soon on field and hill -the wind shall whistle chill -and patriarch swallows call their flocks together -to fly from frost and snow -and seek for lands where blow -the fairer blossoms of a balmier weather - -the cricket chirps all day -the squirrel eyes askance the chestnuts browning -the wild fowl fly afar -above the foamy bar -and hasten southward ere the skies are frowning - -now comes a fragrant breeze -through the dark cedar-trees -and round about my temples fondly lingers -in gentle playfulness -like to the soft caress -bestowed in happier days by loving fingers - -yet, though a sense of grief -comes with the falling leaf -and memory makes the summer doubly pleasant -in all my autumn dreams -a future summer gleams -passing the fairest glories of the present - - - -far back, in my musings, my thoughts have been cast -to the cot where the hours of my childhood were passed -i loved all its rooms from the pantry to hall -but the blessed old kitchen was dearer than all -its chairs and its tables no brighter could be -and all its surroundings were sacred to me -from the nail in the ceiling to the latch on the door -and i loved every crack in that old kitchen floor - -i remember the fireplace with mouth high and wide -and the old-fashioned oven that stood by its side -out of which each thanksgiving came puddings and pies -and they fairly bewildered and dazzled our eyes -and then old st. nicholas slyly and still -came down every christmas our stockings to fill -but the dearest of memories laid up in store -is my mother a-sweeping that old kitchen floor - -to-night those old musings come back at their will -but the wheel and its music forever are still -the band is moth-eaten, the wheel laid away -and the fingers that turned it are mold'ring in clay -the hearthstone so sacred is just as 'twas then -and the voices of children ring out there again -the sun at the window looks in as of yore -but it sees other feet on that old kitchen floor - - -the night was dark when sam set out -to court old jones's daughter -he kinder felt as if he must -and kinder hadn't oughter -his heart against his waistcoat throbbed -his feelings had a tussle -which nearly conquered him despite -six feet of bone and muscle - -the candle in the window shone -with a most doleful glimmer -and sam he felt his courage ooze -and through his fingers simmer -says he: "now, sam, don't be a fool -take courage, shaking doubter -go on, and pop the question right -for you can't live without her - -but still, as he drew near the house -his knees got in a tremble -the beating of his heart ne'er beat -his efforts to dissemble -says he: "now, sam, don't be a goose -and let the female wimmin -knock all your thoughts a-skelter so -and set your heart a-swimmin - -so sam, he kinder raised the latch -his courage also raising -and in a moment he sat inside -cid jones's crops a-praising -he tried awhile to talk the farm -in words half dull, half witty -not knowing that old jones well knew -his only thought was--kitty - -at last the old folks went to bed -the joneses were but human -old jones was something of a man -and mrs. jones--a woman -and kitty she the pitcher took -and started for the cellar -it wasn't often that she had -so promising a feller - -and somehow when she came upstairs -and sam had drank his cider -there seemed a difference in the chairs -and sam was close beside her -his stalwart arm dropped round her waist -her head dropped on his shoulder -and sam--well, he had changed his tune -and grown a trifle bolder - -but this, if you live long enough -you surely will discover -there's nothing in this world of ours -except the loved and lover -the morning sky was growing gray -as sam the farm was leaving -his face was surely not the face -of one half grieved, or grieving - -and kitty she walked smiling back -with blushing face, and slowly -there's something in the humblest love -that makes it pure and holy -and did he marry her, you ask -she stands there with the ladle -a-skimming of the morning's milk -that's sam who rocks the cradle - - -the north winds beat and clamor at the door -the drifted snow lies heaped along the street -swept by a blinding storm of hail and sleet -the clouded heavens no guiding starlight lend -but o'er the earth in gloom and darkness bend -gigantic shadows, by the night lamps thrown -dance their weird revels fitfully alone - -in lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease -sunk in the treasures of all lands and seas -in happy homes, where warmth and comfort meet -the weary traveler with their smiles to greet -in lowly dwellings, where the needy swarm -round starving embers, chilling limbs to warm -rises the prayer that makes the sad heart light - -but hark! above the beating of the storm -peals on the startled ear the fire alarm -yon gloomy heaven's aflame with sudden light -and heart-beats quicken with a strange affright -from tranquil slumbers springs, at duty's call -the ready friend no danger can appall -fierce for the conflict, sturdy, true, and brave -he hurries forth to battle and to save - -from yonder dwelling, fiercely shooting out -devouring all they coil themselves about -the flaming furies, mounting high and higher -wrap the frail structure in a cloak of fire -strong arms are battling with the stubborn foe -in vain attempts their power to overthrow -with mocking glee they revel with their prey -defying human skill to check their way - -and see! far up above the flame's hot breath -something that's human waits a horrid death -a little child, with waving golden hair -stands, like a phantom, 'mid the horrid glare -her pale, sweet face against the window pressed -while sobs of terror shake her tender breast -and from the crowd beneath, in accents wild -a mother screams, "o god! my child! my child - -up goes a ladder. through the startled throng -a hardy fireman swiftly moves along -mounts sure and fast along the slender way -fearing no danger, dreading but delay -the stifling smoke-clouds lower in his path -sharp tongues of flame assail him in their wrath -but up, still up he goes! the goal is won -his strong arm beats the sash, and he is gone - -gone to his death. the wily flames surround -and burn and beat his ladder to the ground -in flaming columns move with quickened beat -to rear a massive wall 'gainst his retreat -courageous heart, thy mission was so pure -suffering humanity must thy loss deplore -henceforth with martyred heroes thou shalt live -crowned with all honors nobleness can give - -nay, not so fast; subdue these gloomy fears -behold! he quickly on the roof appears -bearing the tender child, his jacket warm -flung round her shrinking form to guard from harm -up with your ladders! quick! 'tis but a chance -behold, how fast the roaring flames advance -quick! quick! brave spirits, to his rescue fly -up! up! by heavens, this hero must not die - -silence! he comes along the burning road -bearing, with tender care, his living load -aha! he totters! heaven in mercy save -the good, true heart that can so nobly brave -he's up again! and now he's coming fast -one moment, and the fiery ordeal's passed -and now he's safe! bold flames, ye fought in vain -a happy mother clasps her child again - - - -one bright midsummer day -the gallant steamer ocean queen -swept proudly on her way -bright faces clustered on the deck -or, leaning o'er the side -watched carelessly the feathery foam -that flecked the rippling tide - -ah, who beneath that cloudless sky -that smiling bends serene -could dream that danger, awful, vast -impended o'er the scene -could dream that ere an hour had sped -that frame of sturdy oak -would sink beneath the lake's blue waves -blackened with fire and smoke - -a seaman sought the captain's side -a moment whispered low -the captain's swarthy face grew pale -he hurried down below -alas, too late! though quick, and sharp -and clear his orders came -no human efforts could avail -to quench th' insidious flame - -the bad news quickly reached the deck -it sped from lip to lip -and ghastly faces everywhere -looked from the doomed ship -a hundred lips implore - -a sailor, whose heroic soul -that hour should yet reveal -by name john maynard, eastern-born -stood calmly at the wheel -above the smothered roar -make for the nearest shore - -no terror pales the helmsman's cheek -or clouds his dauntless eye -as, in a sailor's measured tone -his voice responds, "ay! ay -three hundred souls, the steamer's freight -crowd forward wild with fear -while at the stern the dreaded flames -above the deck appear - -john maynard watched the nearing flames -but still with steady hand -he grasped the wheel, and steadfastly -he steered the ship to land -he heard the captain cry -a voice from out the stifling smoke -faintly responds, "ay! ay - -but half a mile! a hundred hands -stretch eagerly to shore -but half a mile! that distance sped -peril shall all be o'er -but half a mile! yet stay, the flames -no longer slowly creep -but gather round that helmsman bold -with fierce, impetuous sweep - -the captain cries once more -and we shall reach the shore -through flame and smoke that dauntless heart -responded firmly still -unawed, though face to face with death - -the flames approach with giant strides -they scorch his hand and brow -one arm, disabled, seeks his side -ah! he is conquered now -but no, his teeth are firmly set -he crushes down his pain -his knee upon the stanchion pressed -he guides the ship again - -one moment yet! one moment yet -brave heart, thy task is o'er -the pebbles grate beneath the keel -the steamer touches shore -three hundred grateful voices rise -in praise to god that he -hath saved them from the fearful fire -and from the engulfing sea - -but where is he, that helmsman bold -the captain saw him reel -his nerveless hands released their task -he sank beside the wheel -the wave received his lifeless corse -blackened with smoke and fire -god rest him! never hero had -a nobler funeral pyre - - - -piller fights is fun, i tell you -there isn't anything i'd rather do -than get a big piller and hold it tight -stand up in bed and then just fight - -us boys allers have our piller fights -and the best night of all is pa's lodge night -soon as ever he goes, we say "good night -then go right upstairs for a piller fight - -sometimes maybe ma comes to the stairs -and hollers up, "boys, have you said your prayers -and then george will holler "yes, mamma," for he always has -good deal of preacher about george, pa says - -ma says "pleasant dreams," and shuts the door -if she's a-listenin' both of us snore -but as soon as ever she goes we light a light -and pitch right into our piller fight - -we play that the bed is bunker hill -and george is americans, so he stands still -but i am the british, so i must hit -as hard as ever i can to make him git -we played buena vista one night -tell you, that was an awful hard fight - -held up our pillers like they was a flag -an' hollered, "little more grape-juice, captain bragg -that was the night that george hit the nail -you just ought to have seen those feathers sail - -i was covered as white as flour -me and him picked them up for 'most an hour -next day when our ma saw that there mess -she was pretty mad, you better guess - -and she told our pa, and he just said -tell you, he whipped us till we were sore -and made us both promise to do it no more - -that was a long time ago, and now lodge nights -or when pa's away we have piller fights -but in buena vista george is bound -to see there aren't any nails anywhere 'round - -piller fights is fun, i tell you -there isn't anything i'd rather do -than get a big piller and hold it tight -stand up in bed, and then just fight - - - -you bad leetle boy, not moche you care -how busy you're kipin' your poor gran'pere -tryin' to stop you ev'ry day -chasin' de hen aroun' de hay -w'y don't you geev' dem a chance to lay -leetle bateese - -off on de fiel' you foller de plough -den we'en you're tire, you scare de cow -sickin' de dog till dey jamp de wall -so de milk ain't good for not'ing at all -an' you're only five an' a half this fall -leetle bateese - -too sleepy for sayin' de prayer tonight -never min', i s'pose it'll be all right -say dem to-morrow--ah! dere he go -fas' asleep in a minute or so -an' he'll stay lak dat till the rooster crow -leetle bateese - -den wake up right away, toute suite -lookin' for somethin' more to eat -makin' me t'ink of dem long-lag crane -soon as they swaller, dey start again -i wonder your stomach don't get no pain -leetle bateese - -but see heem now lyin' dere in bed -look at de arm onderneat' hees head -if he grow lak dat till he's twenty year -i bet he'll be stronger than louis cyr -and beat de voyageurs leevin' here -leetle bateese - -jus' feel de muscle along hees back -won't geev' heem moche bodder for carry pack -on de long portage, any size canoe -dere's not many t'ings dat boy won't do -for he's got double-joint on hees body too -leetle bateese - -but leetle bateese! please don't forget -we rader you're stayin' de small boy yet -so chase de chicken and mak' dem scare -an' do w'at you lak wit' your ole gran'pere -for w'en you're beeg feller he won't be dere -leetle bateese - - - -i sat alone with my conscience -in a place where time had ceased -and we talked of my former living -in the land where the years increased -and i felt i should have to answer -the question it might put to me -and to face the question and answer -throughout an eternity - -the ghosts of forgotten actions -came floating before my sight -and things that i thought had perished -were alive with a terrible might -and the vision of life's dark record -was an awful thing to face -alone with my conscience sitting -in that solemnly silent place - -and i thought of a far-away warning -of a sorrow that was to be mine -in a land that then was the future -but now is the present time -and i thought of my former thinking -of the judgment day to be -but sitting alone with my conscience -seemed judgment enough for me - -and i wondered if there was a future -to this land beyond the grave -but no one gave me an answer -and no one came to save -then i felt that the future was present -and the present would never go by -for it was but the thought of a future -become an eternity - -then i woke from my timely dreaming -and the vision passed away -and i knew the far-away warning -was a warning of yesterday -and i pray that i may not forget it -in this land before the grave -that i may not cry out in the future -and no one come to save - -i have learned a solemn lesson -which i ought to have known before -and which, though i learned it dreaming -i hope to forget no more - -so i sit alone with my conscience -in the place where the years increase -and i try to fathom the future -in the land where time shall cease -and i know of the future judgment -how dreadful soe'er it be -that to sit alone with my conscience -will be judgment enough for me - - -there's a dandy little fellow -who dresses all in yellow -in yellow with an overcoat of green -with his hair all crisp and curly -in the springtime bright and early -a-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen -through all the bright june weather -like a jolly little tramp -he wanders o'er the hillside, down the road -around his yellow feather -thy gypsy fireflies camp -his companions are the wood lark and the toad - -but at last this little fellow -doffs his dainty coat of yellow -and very feebly totters o'er the green -for he very old is growing -and with hair all white and flowing -a-nodding in the sunlight he is seen -oh, poor dandy, once so spandy -golden dancer on the lea -older growing, white hair flowing -poor little baldhead dandy now is he - - - -it's easy to talk of the patience of job, humph! job hed nothin' to try -ef he'd been married to 'bijah brown, folks wouldn't have dared come -nigh him -trials, indeed! now i'll tell you what--ef you want to be sick of your -jest come and change places with me a spell--for i'm an inventor's wife -and such inventions! i'm never sure, when i take up my coffee-pot -that 'bijah hain't been "improvin'" it and it mayn't go off like a shot -why, didn't he make me a cradle once, that would keep itself a-rockin -and didn't it pitch the baby out, and wasn't his head bruised shockin -and there was his "patent peeler," too--a wonderful thing, i'll say -but it hed one fault-it never stopped till the apple was peeled away -as for locks and clocks, and mowin' machines and reapers, and all such -trash -why, 'bijah's invented heaps of 'em but they don't bring in no cash -law! that don't worry him--not at all; he's the most aggravatin'est man -he'll set in his little workshop there, and whistle, and think, and plan -inventin' a jew's-harp to go by steam, or a new-fangled powder-horn -while the children's goin' barefoot to school and the weeds is chokin -our corn -when 'bijah and me kep' company, he warn't like this, you know -our folks all thought he was dreadful smart--but that was years ago -he was handsome as any pictur then, and he had such a glib, bright way -i never thought that a time would come when i'd rue my weddin' day -but when i've been forced to chop wood, and tend to the farm beside -and look at bijah a-settin' there, i've jest dropped down and cried -we lost the hull of our turnip crop while he was inventin' a gun -but i counted it one of my marcies when it bu'st before 'twas done -so he turned it into a "burglar alarm." it ought to give thieves a fright -sometimes i wonder if 'bijah's crazy, he does sech cur'ous things -hev i told you about his bedstead yit?--'twas full of wheels and springs -it hed a key to wind it up, and a clock face at the head -all you did was to turn them hands, and at any hour you said -that bed got up and shook itself, and bounced you on the floor -and then shet up, jest like a box, so you couldn't sleep any more -wa'al, 'bijah he fixed it all complete, and he sot it at half-past five -but he hadn't mor'n got into it when--dear me! sakes alive -them wheels began to whiz and whir! i heered a fearful snap -and there was that bedstead, with 'bijah inside, shet up jest like a trap -i screamed, of course, but 'twan't no use, then i worked that hull long -night -a-trying to open the pesky thing. at last i got in a fright -i couldn't hear his voice inside, and i thought he might be dyin -so i took a crow-bar and smashed it in.--there was 'bijah peacefully -inventin' a way to git out agin. that was all very well to say -but i don't b'lieve he'd have found it out if i'd left him in all day -now, sence i've told you my story, do you wonder i'm tired of life -or think it strange i often wish i warn't an inventor's wife - - - -the snow and the silence came down together -through the night so white and so still -and young folks housed from the bitter weather -housed from the storm and the chill - -heard in their dreams the sleigh-bells jingle -coasted the hill-sides under the moon -felt their cheeks with the keen air tingle -skimmed the ice with their steel-clad shoon - -they saw the snow when they rose in the morning -glittering ghosts of the vanished night -though the sun shone clear in the winter dawning -and the day with a frosty pomp was bright - -out in the clear, cold, winter weather -out in the winter air, like wine -kate with her dancing scarlet feather -bess with her peacock plumage fine - -joe and jack with their pealing laughter -frank and tom with their gay hallo -and half a score of roisterers after -out in the witching, wonderful snow - -shivering graybeards shuffle and stumble -righting themselves with a frozen frown -grumbling at every snowy tumble -but young folks know why the snow came down - - - -closed eyes can't see the white roses -cold hands can't hold them, you know -breath that is stilled cannot gather -the odors that sweet from them blow -death, with a peace beyond dreaming -its children of earth doth endow -life is the time we can help them -so give them the flowers now - -here are the struggles and striving -here are the cares and the tears -now is the time to be smoothing -the frowns and the furrows and fears -what to closed eyes are kind sayings -what to hushed heart is deep vow -naught can avail after parting -so give them the flowers now - -just a kind word or a greeting -just a warm grasp or a smile -these are the flowers that will lighten -the burdens for many a mile -after the journey is over -what is the use of them; how -can they carry them who must be carried -oh, give them the flowers now - -blooms from the happy heart's garden -plucked in the spirit of love -blooms that are earthly reflections -of flowers that blossom above -words cannot tell what a measure -of blessing such gifts will allow -to dwell in the lives of many -so give them the flowers now - - - - -some die too late and some too soon -at early morning, heat of noon -or the chill evening twilight. thou -whom the rich heavens did so endow -with eyes of power and jove's own brow -with all the massive strength that fills -thy home-horizon's granite hills -with rarest gifts of heart and head -from manliest stock inherited -new england's stateliest type of man -in port and speech olympian -whom no one met, at first, but took -a second awed and wondering look -on phidias' unveiled masterpiece -whose words, in simplest home-spun clad -the saxon strength of caedmon's had -with power reserved at need to reach -the roman forum's loftiest speech -sweet with persuasion, eloquent -in passion, cool in argument -or, ponderous, falling on thy foes -as fell the norse god's hammer blows -crushing as if with talus' flail -through error's logic-woven mail -and failing only when they tried -the adamant of the righteous side -thou, foiled in aim and hope, bereaved -of old friends, by the new deceived -too soon for us, too soon for thee -beside thy lonely northern sea -where long and low the marsh-lands spread -laid wearily down thy august head - -thou shouldst have lived to feel below -thy feet disunion's fierce upthrow -the late-sprung mine that underlaid -thy sad concessions vainly made -thou shouldst have seen from sumter's wall -the star-flag of the union fall -and armed rebellion pressing on -the broken lines of washington -no stronger voice than thine had then -called out the utmost might of men -to make the union's charter free -and strengthen law by liberty -how had that stern arbitrament -to thy gray age youth's vigor lent -shaming ambition's paltry prize -before thy disillusioned eyes -breaking the spell about thee wound -like the green withes that samson bound -redeeming, in one effort grand -thyself and thy imperiled land -ah cruel fate, that closed to thee -o sleeper by the northern sea -the gates of opportunity -god fills the gaps of human need -each crisis brings its word and deed -wise men and strong we did not lack -but still, with memory turning back -in the dark hours we thought of thee -and thy lone grave beside the sea - -above that grave the east winds blow -and from the marsh-lands drifting slow -the sea-fog comes, with evermore -the wave-wash of a lonely shore -and sea-bird's melancholy cry -as nature fain would typify -the sadness of a closing scene -the loss of that which should have been -but, where thy native mountains bare -their foreheads to diviner air -fit emblem of enduring fame -one lofty summit keeps thy name -for thee the cosmic forces did -the rearing of that pyramid -the prescient ages shaping with -fire, flood, and frost thy monolith -sunrise and sunset lay thereon -with hands of light their benison -the stars of midnight pause to set -their jewels in its coronet -and evermore that mountain mass -seems climbing from the shadowy pass -to light, as if to manifest -thy nobler self, they life at best - - - -what flower is this that greets the morn -its hues from heaven so freshly born -with burning star and flaming band -it kindles all the sunset land -o tell us what its name may be -is this the flower of liberty -it is the banner of the free -the starry flower of liberty - -in savage nature's far abode -its tender seed our fathers sowed -the storm-winds rocked its swelling bud -its opening leaves were streaked with blood -till lo! earth's tyrants shook to see -the full-blown flower of liberty -then hail the banner of the free -the starry flower of liberty - -behold its streaming rays unite -one mingling flood of braided light -the red that fires the southern rose -with spotless white from northern snows -and, spangled o'er its azure, see -the sister stars of liberty -then hail the banner of the free -the starry flower of liberty - -the blades of heroes fence it round -where'er it springs is holy ground -from tower and dome its glories spread -it waves where lonely sentries tread -it makes the land as ocean free -and plants an empire on the sea -then hail the banner of the free -the starry flower of liberty - -thy sacred leaves, fair freedom's flower -shall ever float on dome and tower -to all their heavenly colors true -in blackening frost or crimson dew -and god love us as we love thee -thrice holy flower of liberty -then hail the banner of the free -the starry flower of liberty - - - -little lamb, who made thee -dost thou know who made thee -gave thee life, and made thee feed -by the stream and o'er the mead -gave thee clothing of delight -softest clothing, woolly, bright -gave thee such a tender voice -making all the vales rejoice -little lamb, who made thee -dost thou know who made thee - -little lamb, i'll tell thee -little lamb, i'll tell thee -he is called by thy name -for he calls himself a lamb -he is meek and he is mild -he became a little child -i a child, and thou a lamb -we are called by his name -little lamb, god bless thee -little lamb, god bless thee - - - -from the lips of the soldier standing near -and "here" was the answer the next replied - -this time no answer followed the call -only the rear man had seen him fall -killed or wounded he could not tell - -there they stood in the failing light -these men of battle, with grave dark looks -as plain to be read as open books -while slowly gathered the shades of night - -the fern on the hillside was splashed with blood -and down in the corn, where the poppies grew -were redder stains than the poppies knew -and crimson-dyed was the river's flood - -two stalwart soldiers into the line -bearing between them herbert kline -wounded and bleeding, to answer his name - -they were brothers, these two; the sad winds sighed -and a shudder crept through the cornfield near - -just after the enemy wavered and broke - -i paused a moment and gave him a drink -he murmured his mother's name i think -and death came with it and closed his eyes - -for that company's roll when called that night -of a hundred men who went into the fight -numbered but twenty that answered "here - - - -god send us a little home -to come back to when we roam -low walls and fluted tiles -wide windows, a view for miles -red firelight and deep chairs -small white beds upstairs -great talk in little nooks -dim colors, rows of books -one picture on each wall -not many things at all -god send us a little ground -tall trees standing round -homely flowers in brown sod -overhead, thy stars, o god -god bless, when winds blow -our home and all we know - - - -no, comrades, i thank you--not any for me -my last chain is riven--henceforward i'm free -i will go to my home and my children to-night -with no fumes of liquor their spirits to blight -and, with tears in my eyes, i will beg my poor wife -to forgive me the wreck i have made of her life -for i've drank my last glass, boys -i have drank my last glass - -just look at me now, boys, in rags and disgrace -with my bleared, haggard eyes, and my red, bloated face -mark my faltering step and my weak, palsied hand -and the mark on my brow that is worse than cain's brand -see my crownless old hat, and my elbows and knees -alike, warmed by the sun, or chilled by the breeze -why, even the children will hoot as i pass -but i've drank my last glass, boys -i have drank my last glass - -you would hardly believe, boys, to look at me now -that a mother's soft hand was pressed on my brow -when she kissed me, and blessed me, her darling, her pride -ere she lay down to rest by my dead father's side -but with love in her eyes, she looked up to the sky -bidding me meet her there and whispered "good-bye -and i'll do it, god helping! your _smile_ i let pass -for i've drank my last glass, boys -i have drank my last glass - -ah! i reeled home last night, it was not very late -for i'd spent my last sixpence, and landlords won't wait -on a fellow who's left every cent in their till -and has pawned his last bed, their coffers to fill -oh, the torments i felt, and the pangs i endured -and i begged for one glass--just one would have cured -but they kicked me out doors! i let that, too, pass -for i've drank my last glass, boys -i have drank my last glass - -at home, my pet susie, with her rich golden hair -i saw through the window, just kneeling in prayer -from her pale, bony hands, her torn sleeves hung down -and her feet, cold and bare, shrank beneath her scant gown -and she prayed--prayed for _bread_, just a poor crust of bread -for one crust, on her knees my pet darling plead -and i heard, with no penny to buy one, alas -for i've drank my last glass, boys -i have drank my last glass - -for susie, my darling, my wee six-year-old -though fainting with hunger and shivering with cold -there, on the bare floor, asked god to bless _me -and she said, "don't cry, mamma! he will; for you see -i _believe_ what i ask for!" then sobered, i crept -away from the house; and that night, when i slept -next my heart lay the pledge! you smile! let it pass -for i've drank my last glass, boys -i have drank my last glass - -my darling child saved me! her faith and her love -are akin to my dear sainted mother's above -i will make my words true, or i'll die in the race -and sober i'll go to my last resting place -and she shall kneel there, and, weeping, thank god -no _drunkard_ lies under the daisy-strewn sod -not a drop more of poison my lips shall e'er pass -for i've drank my last glass, boys -i have drank my last glass - - -ye banks, and braes, and streams around -the castle o' montgomery -green be your woods, and fair your flowers -your waters never drumlie -there simmer first unfauld her robes -and there the langest tarry -for there i took the last fareweel -o' my sweet highland mary - -how sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk -how rich the hawthorn's blossom -as, underneath their fragrant shade -i clasp'd her to my bosom -the golden hours, on angel wings -flew o'er me and my dearie -for dear to me as light and life -was my sweet highland mary - -wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace -our parting was fu' tender -and, pledging aft to meet again -we tore oursels asunder -but, oh, fell death's untimely frost -that nipp'd my flower sae early -now green's the sod and cauld's the clay -that wraps my highland mary - -oh, pale, pale now, those rosy lips -i aft ha'e kiss'd, sae fondly -and closed for aye the sparkling glance -that dwalt on me sae kindly -and mouldering now in silent dust -that heart that lo'ed me dearly -but still within my bosom's core -shall live my highland mary - - - -little one, come to my knee -hark, how the rain is pouring -over the roof, in the pitch-black night -and the wind in the woods a-roaring - -hush, my darling, and listen -then pay for the story with kisses -father was lost in the pitch-black night -in just such a storm as this is - -high up on the lonely mountains -where the wild men watched and waited -wolves in the forest, and bears in the bush -and i on my path belated - -the rain and the night together -came down, and the wind came after -bending the props of the pine-tree roof -and snapping many a rafter - -i crept along in the darkness -stunned, and bruised, and blinded -crept to a fir with thick-set boughs -and a sheltering rock behind it - -there, from the blowing and raining -crouching, i sought to hide me -something rustled, two green eyes shone -and a wolf lay down beside me - -little one, be not frightened -i and the wolf together -side by side, through the long, long night -hid from the awful weather - -his wet fur pressed against me -each of us warmed the other -each of us felt, in the stormy dark -that beast and man was brother - -and when the falling forest -no longer crashed in warning -each of us went from our hiding-place -forth in the wild, wet morning - -darling, kiss me in payment -hark, how the wind is roaring -father's house is a better place -when the stormy rain is pouring - - - -she was a phantom of delight -when first she gleamed upon my sight -a lovely apparition sent -to be a moment's ornament -her eyes as stars of twilight fair -like twilight's, too, her dusky hair -but all things else about her drawn -from may-time and the cheerful dawn -a dancing shape, an image gay -to haunt, to startle, and way-lay - -i saw her upon nearer view -a spirit, yet a woman too -her household motions light and free -and steps of virgin-liberty -a countenance in which did meet -sweet records, promises as sweet -a creature not too bright or good -for human nature's daily food -for transient sorrows, simple wiles -praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles - -and now i see with eye serene -the very pulse of the machine -a being breathing thoughtful breath -a traveler between life and death -the reason firm, the temperate will -endurance, foresight, strength, and skill -a perfect woman, nobly planned -to warn, to comfort, and command -and yet a spirit still, and bright -with something of angelic light - - - - -in may, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes -i found the fresh rhodora in the woods -spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook -to please the desert and the sluggish brook -the purple petals, fallen in the pool -made the black water with their beauty gay -here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool -and court the flower that cheapens his array -rhodora! if the sages ask thee why -this charm is wasted on the earth and sky -tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing -then beauty is its own excuse for being -why thou wert there, o rival of the rose -i never thought to ask, i never knew -but, in my simple ignorance, suppose -the self-same power that brought me there brought you - - - -there was a boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs -and islands of winander!--many a time -at evening, when the earliest stars began -to move along the edges of the hills -rising or setting, would he stand alone -beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake -and there, with fingers interwoven, both hands -pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth -uplifted, he, as through an instrument -blew mimic hootings to the silent owls -that they might answer him,--and they would shout -across the watery vale, and shout again -responsive to his call,--with quivering peals -and long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud -redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild -of jocund din! and, when there came a pause -of silence such as baffled his best skill -then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung -listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise -has carried far into his heart the voice -of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene -would enter unawares into his mind -with all its solemn imagery, its rocks -its woods, and that uncertain heaven received -into the bosom of the steady lake -this boy was taken from his mates, and died -in childhood, ere he was full twelve years old -pre-eminent in beauty is the vale -where he was born and bred: the church-yard hangs -upon a slope above the village-school -and through that church-yard when my way has led -on summer-evenings, i believe, that there -a long half-hour together i have stood -mute--looking at the grave in which he lies - - - -on the top of the crumpetty tree -the quangle wangle sat -but his face you could not see -on account of his beaver hat -for his hat was a hundred and two feet wide -with ribbons and bibbons on every side -and bells, and buttons, and loops, and lace -so that nobody ever could see the face -of the quangle wangle quee - -the quangle wangle said -to himself on the crumpetty tree -are the best of food for me -but the longer i live on this crumpetty tree -the plainer than ever it seems to me -that very few people come this way -and that life on the whole is far from gay -said the quangle wangle quee - -but there came to the crumpetty tree -mr. and mrs. canary -and they said, "did ever you see -any spot so charmingly airy -may we build a nest on your lovely hat -mr. quangle wangle, grant us that -oh, please let us come and build a nest -of whatever material suits you best -mr. quangle wangle quee - -and besides, to the crumpetty tree -came the stork, the duck, and the owl -the snail and the bumblebee -the frog and the fimble fowl -and all of them said, "we humbly beg -we may build our homes on your lovely hat -mr. quangle wangle, grant us that -mr. quangle wangle quee - -and the golden grouse came there -and the pobble who has no toes -and the small olympian bear -and the dong with a luminous nose -and the blue baboon who played the flute -and the orient calf from the land of tute -and the attery squash, and the bisky bat -all came and built on the lovely hat -of the quangle wangle quee - -and the quangle wangle said -to himself on the crumpetty tree -what a wonderful noise there'll be -and at night by the light of the mulberry moon -they danced to the flute of the blue baboon -on the broad green leaves of the crumpetty tree -and all were as happy as happy could be -with the quangle wangle quee - - - - -said the king to his daughters three -now say what shall they be - -then up and spake the eldest daughter -that lady tall and grand -and gold rings for my hand - -thereafter spake the second daughter -that was both white and red -and a gold comb for my head - -then came the turn of the least daughter -that was whiter than thistle-down -and among the gold of her blithesome hair -dim shone the golden crown - -and sang 'neath my bower eaves -till i dreamed, as his music made me - -then the brow of the king swelled crimson -with a flush of angry scorn -and chosen as ye were born - -that is happy binding the sheaves -then he saw her dead mother in her face -and said, "thou shalt have thy leaves - - -he mounted and rode three days and nights -till he came to vanity fair -and 'twas easy to buy the gems and the silk -but no singing leaves were there - -then deep in the greenwood rode he -and asked of every tree -i pray you give it me - -but the trees all kept their counsel -and never a word said they -only there sighed from the pine-tops -a music of seas far away - -only the pattering aspen -made a sound of growing rain -that fell ever faster and faster -then faltered to silence again - -that would win both hose and shoon -and will bring to me the singing leaves -if they grow under the moon - -then lightly turned him walter the page -by the stirrup as he ran -of a king and gentleman - -you meet at your castle-gate -and the princess shall get the singing leaves -or mine be a traitor's fate - -the king's head dropt upon his breast -a moment, as it might be - -then walter took from next his heart -a packet small and thin -the singing leaves are therein - - -as the king rode in at his castle-gate -a maiden to meet him ran -and "welcome, father!" she laughed and cried -together, the princess anne - -she took the packet, and the smile -deepened down beneath the tear - -it deepened down till it reached her heart -and then gushed up again -and lighted her tears as the sudden sun -transfigures the summer rain - -and the first leaf, when it was opened -sang: "i am walter the page -and the songs i sing 'neath thy window -are my only heritage - -and the second leaf sang: "but in the land -that is neither on earth nor sea -my lute and i are lords of more -than thrice this kingdom's fee - -and the third leaf sang, "be mine! be mine -and ever it sang, "be mine -then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter -and said, "i am thine, thine, thine - -at the first leaf she grew pale enough -at the second she turned aside -at the third,'twas as if a lily flushed -with a rose's red heart's tide - -for they sing to my very heart," she said - -she brought to him her beauty and truth -but and broad earldoms three -and he made her queen of the broader lands -he held of his lute in fee - - - -never yet was a springtime -late though lingered the snow -that the sap stirred not at the whisper -of the south wind, sweet and low -never yet was a springtime -when the buds forgot to blow - -ever the wings of the summer -are folded under the mold -life that has known no dying -is love's to have and to hold -till sudden, the burgeoning easter -the song! the green and the gold - - - - -farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness -this is the state of man: to-day he puts forth -the tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms -and bears his blushing honours thick upon him -the third day comes a frost, a killing frost -and,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely -his greatness is a-ripening,--nips his root -and then he falls, as i do. i have ventured -like little wanton boys that swim on bladders -this many summers in a sea of glory -but far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride -at length broke under me, and now has left me -weary, and old with service, to the mercy -of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me -vain pomp and glory of this world, i hate ye -i feel my heart new opened. o, how wretched -is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours -there is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to -that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin -more pangs and fears than wars or women have -and when he falls, he falls like lucifer -never to hope again - - - -want any papers, mister -wish you'd buy 'em of me -ten year old, an' a fam'ly -an' bizness dull, you see -fact, boss! there's tom, an' tibby -an' dad, an' mam, an' mam's cat -none on 'em earning money -what do you think of that - -he's workin' for gov'ment now -they give him his board for nothin -all along of a drunken row -been there a year or so -so i'm taking care of the others -doing as well as i know - -she's a kitten, a real maltee -i picked her up last summer -some boys was a drownin' of she -throw'd her inter a hogshead -but a p'liceman came along -so i jest grabbed up the kitten -and put for home, right strong - -and tom's my dog; he an' tibby -hain't never quarreled yet -they sleep in my bed in winter -an' keeps me warm--you bet -mam's cat sleeps in the corner -with a piller made of her paw -can't she growl like a tiger -if anyone comes to our straw - -what's a feller to do -some nights, when i'm tired an' hungry -seems as if each on 'em knew -they'll all three cuddle around me -till i get cheery, and say -well, p'raps i'll have sisters an' brothers -an' money an' clothes, too, some day - -but if i do git rich, boss -said newsboys could be presidents -if only they acted right -so, if i was president, mister -the very first thing i'd do -i'd buy poor tom an' tibby -a dinner--an' mam's cat, too - -none o' your scraps an' leavin's -but a good square meal for all three -if you think i'd skimp my friends, boss -that shows you don't know _me -so 'ere's your papers--come take one -gimme a lift if you can -for now you've heard my story -you see i'm a fam'ly man - - - -not far advanced was morning day -when marmion did his troop array -to surrey's camp to ride -he had safe conduct for his band -beneath the royal seal and hand -and douglas gave a guide -the ancient earl, with stately grace -would clara on her palfrey place -and whispered in an undertone -the train from out the castle drew -but marmion stopped to bid adieu -sent hither by your king's behest -while in tantallon's towers i stayed -part we in friendship from your land -and, noble earl, receive my hand -but douglas round him drew his cloak -folded his arms, and thus he spoke -be open, at my sovereign's will -to each one whom he lists, howe'er -unmeet to be the owner's peer -my castles are my king's alone -from turret to foundation-stone -the hand of douglas is his own -and never shall in friendly grasp -the hand of such as marmion clasp - -burned marmion's swarthy cheek like fire -and shook his very frame for ire -and--"this to me!" he said -such hand as marmion's had not spared -to cleave the douglas' head -and, first, i tell thee, haughty peer -he who does england's message here -even in thy pitch of pride -here in thy hold, thy vassals near -and lay your hands upon your sword -i tell thee thou'rt defied -and if thou said'st i am not peer -to any lord in scotland here -lowland or highland, far or near -lord angus, thou hast lied -on the earl's cheek the flush of rage -o'ercame the ashen hue of age -fierce he broke forth,--"and dar'st thou then -to beard the lion in his den -the douglas in his hall -and hop'st thou hence unscathed to go -no, by st. bride of bothwell, no -up drawbridge, grooms,--what, warder, ho -let the portcullis fall -lord marmion turned,--well was his need -and dashed the rowels in his steed -like arrow through the archway sprung -the ponderous grate behind him rung -to pass there was such scanty room -the bars, descending, razed his plume - -the steed along the drawbridge flies -just as it trembled on the rise -not lighter does the swallow skim -along the smooth lake's level brim -and when lord marmion reached his band -he halts, and turns with clenched hand -and shout of loud defiance pours -and shook his gauntlet at the towers -but soon he reined his fury's pace -though most unworthy of the name - -old age ne'er cools the douglas blood -i thought to slay him where he stood -i warrant him a warrior tried -with this his mandate he recalls -and slowly seeks his castle halls - - - -han'som, stranger? yes, she's purty an' ez peart ez she kin be -clever? w'y! she ain't no chicken, but she's good enough for me -what's her name? 'tis kind o' common, yit i ain't ashamed to tell -she's ole "fiddler" filkin's daughter, an' her dad he calls her "nell - -i wuz drivin' on the "central" jist about a year ago -on the run from winnemucca up to reno in washoe -there's no end o' skeery places. 'taint a road fur one who dreams -with its curves an' awful tres'les over rocks an' mountain streams - -an' wuz tearin' up the mountain like a summer thunder-shower -round the bends an' by the ledges, 'bout ez fast ez we could go -with the mountain peaks above us an' the river down below - -ez we come nigh to a tres'le 'crost a holler, deep an' wild -suddenly i saw a baby, 'twuz the station-keeper's child -toddlin' right along the timbers with a bold an' fearless tread -right afore the locomotive, not a hundred rods ahead - -i jist jumped an' grabbed the throttle an' i fa'rly held my breath -fur i felt i couldn't stop her till the child wuz crushed to death -when a woman sprang afore me, like a sudden streak o' light -caught the boy, an' 'twixt the timbers in a second sank from sight - -i jist whis'l'd all the brakes on. an' we worked with might an' main -till the fire flew from the drivers, but we couldn't stop the train -an' it rumbled on above her. how she screamed ez we rolled by -an' the river roared below us--i shall hear her till i die - -then we stopt; the sun wuz shinin'; i ran back along the ridge -an' i found her--dead? no! livin'! she wuz hangin' to the bridge -where she dropt down thro' the crossties, with one arm about a sill -an' the other round the baby, who wuz yellin' fur to kill - -so we saved 'em. she wuz gritty. she's ez peart ez she kin be -now we're married--she's no chicken, but she's good enough for me -an' ef eny ask who owns her, w'y, i ain't ashamed to tell -she's my wife. ther' ain't none better than ole filkin's daughter "nell - - - -a traveler on the dusty road -strewed acorns on the lea -and one took root and sprouted up -and grew into a tree -love sought its shade, at evening time -to breathe his early vows -and age was pleased, in heats of noon -to bask beneath its boughs -the dormouse loved its dangling twigs -the birds sweet music bore -it stood a glory in its place -a blessing evermore - -a little spring had lost its way -amid the grass and fern -a passing stranger scooped a well -where weary men might turn -he walled it in, and hung with care -a ladle at the brink -he thought not of the deed he did -but judged that all might drink -he paused again, and lo! the well -by summer never dried -had cooled ten thousand parching tongues -and saved a life beside - -a dreamer dropped a random thought -a simple fancy of the brain -but strong in being true -it shone upon a genial mind -and, lo! its light became -a lamp of life, a beacon ray -a monitory flame -the thought was small, its issue great -a watch-fire on the hill -it shed its radiance far adown -and cheers the valley still - -a nameless man, amid a crowd -that thronged the daily mart -let fall a word of hope and love -unstudied from the heart -a whisper on the tumult thrown -a transitory breath -it raised a brother from the dust -it saved a soul from death -o germ! o fount! o word of love -o thought at random cast -ye were but little at the first -but mighty at the last - - - -when the humid showers gather over all the starry spheres -and the melancholy darkness gently weeps in rainy tears -and listen to the patter of the soft rain overhead - -every tinkle on the shingles has an echo in the heart -and a thousand dreamy fancies into busy being start -and a thousand recollections weave their bright hues into woof -as i listen to the patter of the soft rain on the roof - -there in fancy comes my mother, as she used to years agone -to survey the infant sleepers ere she left them till the dawn -i can see her bending o'er me, as i listen to the strain -which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain - -then my little seraph sister, with her wings and waving hair -and her bright-eyed, cherub brother--a serene, angelic pair -glide around my wakeful pillow with their praise or mild reproof -as i listen to the murmur of the soft rain on the roof - -and another comes to thrill me with her eyes' delicious blue -i forget, as gazing on her, that her heart was all untrue -i remember that i loved her as i ne'er may love again -and my heart's quick pulses vibrate to the patter of the rain - -there is naught in art's bravuras that can work with such a spell -in the spirit's pure, deep fountains, whence the holy passions swell -as that melody of nature, that subdued, subduing strain -which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain - - - -the "bhisti," or water-carriers attached to regiments in india, is often -one of the most devoted subjects of the british crown, and he is much -appreciated by the men - -you may talk o' gin an' beer -when you're quartered safe out 'ere -an' you're sent to penny-fights an' aldershot it -but if it comes to slaughter -you will do your work on water -an' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it -now in injia's sunny clime -where i used to spend my time -a-servin' of 'er majesty the queen -of all them black-faced crew -the finest man i knew -was our regimental _bhisti_, gunga din -he was "din! din! din -you limping lump o' brick-dust, gunga din -hi! _slippy hitherao -water, get it! _panee lao -you squidgy-nosed, old idol, gunga din - -the uniform 'e wore -was nothin' much before -an' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind -for a twisty piece o' rag -an' a goatskin water bag -was all the field-equipment 'e could find -when the sweatin' troop-train lay -in a sidin' through the day -where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl -we shouted "harry by -till our throats were bricky-dry -then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all -it was "din! din! din -you 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been -you put some _juldee_ in it -or i'll _marrow_ you this minute -if you don't fill up my helmet, gunga din - -till the longest day was done -an' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear -if we charged or broke or cut -you could bet your bloomin' nut -with 'is _mussick_ on 'is back -an' watch us till the bugles made "retire -an' for all 'is dirty 'ide -when 'e went to tend the wounded under fire -it was "din! din! din -with the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green -when the cartridges ran out -you could 'ear the front-files shout - -i sha'n't forgit the night -when i dropped be'ind the fight -with a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been -i was chokin' mad with thirst -an' the man that spied me first -was our good old grinnin', gruntin' gunga din -an' 'e plugged me where i bled -an' 'e guv me arf-a-pint o' water--green -it was crawlin' and it stunk -but of all the drinks i've drunk -i'm gratefullest to one from gunga din -it was "din! din! din -for gawd's sake git the water, gunga din - -to where a _dooli_ lay -an' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean -an', just before 'e died -so i'll meet 'im later on -in the place where 'e is gone -where it's always double drill and no canteen -givin' drink to pore damned souls -an' i'll get a swig in hell from gunga din -din! din! din -you lazarushian-leather gunga din -tho' i've belted you an' flayed you -by the livin' gawd that made you -you're a better man than i am, gunga din - - - - - - - - - -stand! the ground's your own, my braves -will ye give it up to slaves -will ye look for greener graves -hope ye mercy still -what's the mercy despots feel -hear it in that battle peal -read it on yon bristling steel -ask it--ye who will - -fear ye foes who kill for hire -will ye to your homes retire -look behind you! they're afire -and, before you, see -who have done it! from the vale -on they come! and will ye quail -leaden rain and iron hail -let their welcome be - -in the god of battles trust -die we may--and die we must -but, o where can dust to dust -be consigned so well -as where heaven its dews shall shed -on the martyred patriot's bed -and the rocks shall raise their head -of his deeds to tell - - - - - -why dost thou wildly rush and roar -mad river, o mad river -wilt thou not pause and cease to pour -thy hurrying, headlong waters o'er -this rocky shelf forever - -what secret trouble stirs thy breast -why all this fret and flurry -dost thou not know that what is best -in this too restless world is rest -from overwork and worry - - -what wouldst thou in these mountains seek -o stranger from the city -is it perhaps some foolish freak -of thine, to put the words i speak -into a plaintive ditty - - -yes; i would learn of thee thy song -with all its flowing numbers -and in a voice as fresh and strong -as thine is, sing it all day long -and hear it in my slumbers - - -a brooklet nameless and unknown -was i at first, resembling -a little child, that all alone -comes venturing down the stairs of stone -irresolute and trembling - -later, by wayward fancies led -for the wide world i panted -out of the forest dark and dread -across the open fields i fled -like one pursued and haunted - -i tossed my arms, i sang aloud -my voice exultant blending -with thunder from the passing cloud -the wind, the forest bent and bowed -the rush of rain descending - -i heard the distant ocean call -imploring and entreating -drawn onward, o'er this rocky wall -i plunged, and the loud waterfall -made answer to the greeting - -and now, beset with many ills -a toilsome life i follow -compelled to carry from the hills -these logs to the impatient mills -below there in the hollow - -yet something ever cheers and charms -the rudeness of my labors -daily i water with these arms -the cattle of a hundred farms -and have the birds for neighbors - -men call me mad, and well they may -when, full of rage and trouble -i burst my banks of sand and clay -and sweep their wooden bridge away -like withered reeds or stubble - -now go and write thy little rhyme -as of thine own creating -thou seest the day is past its prime -i can no longer waste my time -the mills are tired of waiting - - - -when papa was a little boy you really couldn't find -in all the country round about a child so quick to mind -his mother never called but once, and he was always there -he never made the baby cry or pulled his sister's hair -he never slid down banisters or made the slightest noise -and never in his life was known to fight with other boys -he always rose at six o'clock and went to bed at eight -and never lay abed till noon; and never sat up late - -he finished latin, french and greek when he was ten year old -and knew the spanish alphabet as soon as he was told -he never, never thought of play until his work was done -he labored hard from break of day until the set of sun -he never scraped his muddy shoes upon the parlor floor -and never answered, back his ma, and never banged the door - - - -i looked at john,--john looked at me -as well as though my locks were jet -and when i found that i must speak -my voice seemed strangely low and weak -and then i listening bent my head -a house and land while you shall live -if, in return, from out your seven -one child to me for aye is given - -i looked at john's old garments worn -i thought of all that john had borne -of poverty, and work, and care -which i, though willing, could not share -of seven hungry mouths to feed -of seven little children's need -and then of this -asleep"; so walking hand in hand -dear john and i surveyed our band - -first to the cradle lightly stepped -where lilian, the baby, slept -her damp curls lay, like gold alight -a glory 'gainst the pillow white -softly her father stooped to lay -his rough hand down in loving way -when dream or whisper made her stir -and huskily he said, "not _her -we stooped beside the trundle-bed -and one long ray of lamp-light shed -athwart the boyish faces there -in sleep so pitiful and fair -i saw on jamie's rough red cheek -a tear undried; ere john could speak -and kissed him as we hurried by -pale, patient robby's angel face -still in his sleep bore suffering's trace -he whispered, while our eyes were dim -poor dick! sad dick! our wayward son -turbulent, reckless, idle one -could _he_ be spared? "nay, he who gave -bids us befriend him to the grave -only a mother's heart can be -patient enough for such as he -and so," said john, "i would not dare -to send him from her bedside prayer -then stole we softly up above -and knelt by mary, child of love -i said to john. quite silently -he lifted up a curl, that lay -across her cheek in wilful way -and shook his head; "nay, love, not thee -the while my heart beat audibly -only one more, our eldest lad -trusty and truthful, good and glad -so like his father: "no, john, no -i cannot, will not, let him go - -and so we wrote, in courteous way -we could not give one child away -and afterward toil lighter seemed -thinking of that of which we dreamed -happy, in truth, that not one face -we missed from its accustomed place -thankful to work for all the seven -trusting then to one in heaven - - - -it was a starry night in june, the air was soft and still -when the "minute-men" from cambridge came, and gathered on the hill -beneath us lay the sleeping town, around us frowned the fleet -but the pulse of freemen, not of slaves, within our bosoms beat -and every heart rose high with hope, as fearlessly we said - -the trench is marked, the tools are brought, we utter not a word -but stack our guns, then fall to work with mattock and with spade -a thousand men with sinewy arms, and not a sound is made -so still were we, the stars beneath, that scarce a whisper fell -we heard the red-coat's musket click, and heard him cry, "all's well - -see how the morn, is breaking; the red is in the sky -the mist is creeping from the stream that floats in silence by -the "lively's" hall looms through the fog, and they our works have spied -for the ruddy flash and round-shot part in thunder from her side -and the "falcon" and the "cerberus" make every bosom thrill -with gun and shell, and drum and bell, and boatswain's whistle shrill -but deep and wider grows the trench, as spade and mattock ply -for we have to cope with fearful odds, and the time is drawing nigh - -up with the pine-tree banner! our gallant prescott stands -amid the plunging shells and shot, and plants it with his hands -up with the shout! for putnam comes upon his reeking bay -with bloody spur and foaming bit, in haste to join the fray -but thou whose soul is glowing in the summer of thy years -unvanquishable warren, thou, the youngest of thy peers -wert born and bred, and shaped and made, to act a patriot's part -and dear to us thy presence is as heart's blood to the heart - -hark! from the town a trumpet! the barges at the wharf -are crowded with the living freight; and now they're pushing off -with clash and glitter, trump and drum, in all its bright array -behold the splendid sacrifice move slowly o'er the bay -and still and still the barges fill, and still across the deep -like thunder clouds along the sky, the hostile transports sweep - -and now they're forming at the point; and now the lines advance -we see beneath the sultry sun their polished bayonets glance -we hear anear the throbbing drum, the bugle-challenge ring -quick bursts and loud the flashing cloud, and rolls from wing to wing -but on the height our bulwark stands, tremendous in its gloom -as sullen as a tropic sky, and silent as a tomb - -and so we waited till we saw, at scarce ten rifles' length -the old vindictive saxon spite, in all its stubborn strength -when sudden, flash on flash, around the jagged rampart burst -from every gun the livid light upon the foe accursed -then quailed a monarch's might before a free-born people's ire -then drank the sward the veteran's life, where swept the yeoman's fire - -then, staggered by the shot, he saw their serried columns reel -and fall, as falls the bearded rye beneath the reaper's steel -and then arose a mighty shout that might have waked the dead -and every man hath dropped his gun to clutch a neighbor's hand -as his heart kept praying all the while for home and native land - -thrice on that day we stood the shock of thrice a thousand foes -and thrice that day within our lines the shout of victory rose -and though our swift fire slackened then, and, reddening in the skies -we saw from charlestown's roofs and walls the flamy columns rise -yet while we had a cartridge left, we still maintained the fight -nor gained the foe one foot of ground upon that blood-stained height - -what though for us no laurels bloom, and o'er the nameless brave -no sculptured trophy, scroll, nor hatch records a warrior grave -what though the day to us was lost!--upon that deathless page -the everlasting charter stands for every land and age - -for man hath broke his felon bonds, and cast them in the dust -and claimed his heritage divine, and justified the trust -while through his rifted prison-bars the hues of freedom pour -o'er every nation, race and clime, on every sea and shore -such glories as the patriarch viewed, when, mid the darkest skies -he saw above a ruined world the bow of promise rise - - - -we squander health in search of wealth -we scheme and toil and save -then squander wealth in search of health -but only find a grave -we live, and boast of what we own -we die, and only get a stone - - -it may be that the words i spoke -to cheer him on his way -to him were vain, but i myself -was braver all that day - - - -billy's dead, and gone to glory--so is billy's sister nell -there's a tale i know about them, were i poet i would tell -soft it comes, with perfume laden, like a breath of country air -wafted down the filthy alley, bringing fragrant odors there - -in that vile and filthy alley, long ago one winter's day -dying quick of want and fever, hapless, patient billy lay -while beside him sat his sister, in the garret's dismal gloom -cheering with her gentle presence billy's pathway to the tomb - -many a tale of elf and fairy did she tell the dying child -till his eyes lost half their anguish, and his worn, wan features smiled -tales herself had heard haphazard, caught amid the babel roar -lisped about by tiny gossips playing round their mothers' door - -then she felt his wasted fingers tighten feebly as she told -how beyond this dismal alley lay a land of shining gold -where, when all the pain was over,--where, when all the tears were shed -he would be a white-frocked angel, with a gold thing on his head - -then she told some garbled story of a kind-eyed saviour's love -how he'd built for little children great big playgrounds up above -where they sang and played at hopscotch and at horses all the day -and where beadles and policemen never frightened them away - -this was nell's idea of heaven,--just a bit of what she'd heard -with a little bit invented, and a little bit inferred -but her brother lay and listened, and he seemed to understand -for he closed his eyes and murmured he could see the promised land - -oh, the children look so happy and they're all so strong and well -i can see them there with jesus--he is playing with them, too -let as run away and join them, if there's room for me and you - -she was eight, this little maiden, and her life had all been spent -in the garret and the alley, where they starved to pay the rent -where a drunken father's curses and a drunken mother's blows -drove her forth into the gutter from the day's dawn to its close - -but she knew enough, this outcast, just to tell this sinking boy -you must die," she whispered, "billy, and i am not even ill -but i'll come to you, dear brother,--yes, i promise that i will - -i heard father say to mother that he knew you couldn't last -they will put you in a coffin, then you'll wake and be up there -while i'm left alone to suffer in this garret bleak and bare - -gentle jesus will not beat me; he's not cruel or unkind -but i can't help thinking, nelly, i should like to take away -something, sister, that you gave me, i might look at every day - -to a great green lovely meadow, where we played and ran about -and the van that took us halted by a sweet bright patch of land -where the fine red blossoms grew, dear, half as big as mother's hand - -those -and he told me, i remember, that the pretty name was rose -i have never seen them since, dear--how i wish that i had one -just to keep and think of you, nell, when i'm up beyond the sun - -not a word said little nelly; but at night, when billy slept -on she flung her scanty garments and then down the stairs she crept -through the silent streets of london she ran nimbly as a fawn -running on and running ever till the night had changed to dawn - -when the foggy sun had risen, and the mist had cleared away -all around her, wrapped in snowdrift, there the open country lay -she was tired, her limbs were frozen, and the roads had cut her feet -but there came no flowery gardens her poor tearful eyes to greet - -she had traced the road by asking, she had learnt the way to go -she had found the famous meadow--it was wrapped in cruel snow -not a buttercup or daisy, not a single verdant blade -showed its head above its prison. then she knelt her down and prayed - -with her eyes upcast to heaven, down she sank upon the ground -and she prayed to god to tell her where the roses might be found -then the cold blast numbed her senses, and her sight grew strangely dim -and a sudden, awful tremor seemed to seize her every limb - -and as she prayed a chariot came thundering down the hill -and a lady sat there, toying with a red rose, rare and sweet -as she passed she flung it from her, and it fell at nelly's feet - -just a word her lord had spoken caused her ladyship to fret -and the rose had been his present, so she flung it in a pet -but the poor, half-blinded nelly thought it fallen from the skies -and she murmured, "thank you, jesus!" as she clasped the dainty prize - -lo! that night from but the alley did a child's soul pass away -from dirt and sin and misery up to where god's children play -lo! that night a wild, fierce snowstorm burst in fury o'er the land -and at morn they found nell frozen, with the red rose in her hand - -billy's dead, and gone to glory--so is billy's sister nell -am i bold to say this happened in the land where angels dwell -that the children met in heaven, after all their earthly woes -and that nelly kissed her brother, and said, "billy, here's your rose - - - -mine is a wild, strange story,--the strangest you ever heard -there are many who won't believe it, but it's gospel, every word -it's the biggest drama of any in a long, adventurous life -the scene was a ship, and the actors--were myself and my new-wed wife - -you musn't mind if i ramble, and lose the thread now and then -i'm old, you know, and i wander--it's a way with old women and men -for their lives lie all behind them, and their thoughts go far away -and are tempted afield, like children lost on a summer day - -the years must be five-and-twenty that have passed since that awful night -but i see it again this evening, i can never shut out the sight -we were only a few weeks married, i and the wife, you know -when we had an offer for melbourne, and made up our minds to go - -we'd acted together in england, traveling up and down -with a strolling band of players, going from town to town -we played the lovers together--we were leading lady and gent -and at last we played in earnest, and straight to the church we went - -the parson gave us his blessing, and i gave nellie the ring -and swore that i'd love and cherish, and endow her with everything -how we smiled at that part of the service when i said "i thee endow -but as to the "love and cherish," i meant to keep that vow - -we were only a couple of strollers; we had coin when the show was good -when it wasn't we went without it, and we did the best we could -we were happy, and loved each other, and laughed at the shifts we made -where love makes plenty of sunshine, there poverty casts no shade - -well, at last we got to london, and did pretty well for a bit -then the business dropped to nothing, and the manager took a flit -stepped off one sunday morning, forgetting the treasury call -but our luck was in, and we managed right on our feet to fall - -we got an offer for melbourne,--got it that very week -those were the days when thousands went over to fortune seek -the days of the great gold fever, and a manager thought the spot -good for a "spec," and took us as actors among his lot - -we hadn't a friend in england--we'd only ourselves to please -and we jumped at the chance of trying our fortune across the seas -we went on a sailing vessel, and the journey was long and rough -we hadn't been out a fortnight before we had had enough - -but use is a second nature, and we'd got not to mind a storm -when misery came upon us,--came in a hideous form -my poor little wife fell ailing, grew worse, and at last so bad -that the doctor said she was dying,--i thought 'twould have sent me mad - -dying where leagues of billows seemed to shriek for their prey -and the nearest land was hundreds--aye, thousands--of miles away -she raved one night in a fever, and the next lay still as death -so still i'd to bend and listen for the faintest sign of breath - -she seemed in a sleep, and sleeping, with a smile on her thin, wan face -she passed away one morning, while i prayed to the throne of grace -i knelt in the little cabin, and prayer after prayer i said -till the surgeon came and told me it was useless--my wife was dead - -dead! i wouldn't believe it. they forced me away that night -for i raved in my wild despairing, the shock sent me mad outright -i was shut in the farthest cabin, and i beat my head on the side -and all day long in my madness, "they've murdered her!" i cried - -they locked me away from my fellows,--put me in cruel chains -it seems i had seized a weapon to beat out the surgeon's brains -i cried in my wild, mad fury, that he was a devil sent -to gloat o'er the frenzied anguish with which my heart was rent - -i spent that night with the irons heavy upon my wrists -and my wife lay dead quite near me. i beat with my fettered fists -beat at my prison panels, and then--o god!--and then -i heard the shrieks of women and the tramp of hurrying men - -i heard the cry, "ship afire!" caught up by a hundred throats -and over the roar the captain shouting to lower the boats -then cry upon cry, and curses, and the crackle of burning wood -and the place grew hot as a furnace, i could feel it where i stood - -i beat at the door and shouted, but never a sound came back -and the timbers above me started, till right through a yawning crack -i could see the flames shoot upward, seizing on mast and sail -fanned in their burning fury by the breath of the howling gale - -i dashed at the door in fury, shrieking, "i will not die -die in this burning prison!"--but i caught no answering cry -then, suddenly, right upon me, the flames crept up with a roar -and their fiery tongues shot forward, cracking my prison door - -i was free--with the heavy iron door dragging me down to death -i fought my way to the cabin, choked with the burning breath -of the flames that danced around me like man-mocking fiends at play -and then--o god! i can see it, and shall to my dying day - -there lay my nell as they'd left her, dead in her berth that night -the flames flung a smile on her features,--a horrible, lurid light -god knows how i reached and touched her, but i found myself by her side -i thought she was living a moment, i forgot that my nell had died - -in the shock of those awful seconds reason came back to my brain -i heard a sound as of breathing, and then a low cry of pain -oh, was there mercy in heaven? was there a god in the skies -the dead woman's lips were moving, the dead woman opened her eyes - -i cursed like a madman raving--i cried to her, "nell! my nell -they had left us alone and helpless, alone in that burning hell -they had left us alone to perish--forgotten me living--and she -had been left for the fire to bear her to heaven, instead of the sea - -i clutched at her, roused her shrieking, the stupor was on her still -i seized her in spite of my fetters,--fear gave a giant's will -god knows how i did it, but blindly i fought through the flames and the -wreck -up--up to the air, and brought her safe to the untouched deck - -we'd a moment of life together,--a moment of life, the time -for one last word to each other,--'twas a moment supreme, sublime -from the trance we'd for death mistaken, the heat had brought her to life -and i was fettered and helpless, so we lay there, husband and wife - -it was but a moment, but ages seemed to have passed away -when a shout came over the water, and i looked, and lo, there lay -right away from the vessel, a boat that was standing by -they had seen our forms on the vessel, as the flames lit up the sky - -i shouted a prayer to heaven, then called to my wife, and she -tore with new strength at my fetters--god helped her, and i was free -then over the burning bulwarks we leaped for one chance of life -did they save us? well, here i am, sir, and yonder's my dear old wife - -we were out in the boat till daylight, when a great ship passing by -took us on board, and at melbourne landed us by and by -we've played many parts in dramas since we went on that famous trip -but ne'er such a scene together as we had on the burning ship - - - -a sad-faced little fellow sits alone in deep disgrace -there's a lump arising in his throat, tears streaming down his face -he wandered from his playmates, for he doesn't want to hear -their shouts of merry laughter, since the world has lost its cheer -he has sipped the cup of sorrow, he has drained the bitter glass -and his heart is fairly breaking; he's the boy who didn't pass - -in the apple tree the robin sings a cheery little song -but he doesn't seem to hear it, showing plainly something's wrong -comes his faithful little spaniel for a romp and bit of play -but the troubled little fellow sternly bids him go away -all alone he sits in sorrow, with his hair a tangled mass -and his eyes are red with weeping; he's the boy who didn't pass - -how he hates himself for failing, he can hear his playmates jeer -for they've left him with the dullards--gone ahead a half a year -and he tried so hard to conquer, oh, he tried to do his best -but now he knows, he's weaker, yes, and duller than the rest -he's ashamed to tell his mother, for he thinks she'll hate him, too -the little boy who didn't pass, who failed of getting through - -oh, you who boast a laughing son, and speak of him as bright -and you who love a little girl who comes to you at night -with smiling eyes, with dancing feet, with honors from her school -turn to that lonely little boy who thinks he is a fool -and take him kindly by the hand, the dullest in his class -he is the one who most needs love, the boy who didn't pass - - -yes, it's a quiet station, but it suits me well enough -i want a bit of the smooth now, for i've had my share o' rough -this berth that the company gave me, they gave as the work was light -i was never fit for the signals after one awful night -i'd been in the box from a younker, and i'd never felt the strain -of the lives at my right hand's mercy in every passing train -one day there was something happened, and it made my nerves go queer -and it's all through that as you find me the station-master here - -i was on at the box down yonder--that's where we turn the mails -and specials, and fast expresses, on to the center rails -the side's for the other traffic--the luggage and local slows -it was rare hard work at christmas, when double the traffic grows -i've been in the box down yonder nigh sixteen hours a day -till my eyes grew dim and heavy, and my thoughts went all astray -but i've worked the points half-sleeping--and once i slept outright -till the roar of the limited woke me, and i nearly died with fright - -then i thought of the lives in peril, and what might have been their fate -had i sprung to the points that evening a tenth of a tick too late -and a cold and ghastly shiver ran icily through my frame -as i fancied the public clamor, the trial, and bitter shame -i could see the bloody wreckage--i could see the mangled slain -and the picture was seared for ever, blood-red, on my heated brain -that moment my nerve was shattered, for i couldn't shut out the thought -of the lives i held in my keeping, and the ruin that might be wrought - -that night in our little cottage, as i kissed our sleeping child -my wife looked up from her sewing, and told me, as she smiled -that johnny had made his mind up--he'd be a pointsman, too -i frowned, for my heart was heavy, and my wife she saw the look -lord bless you! my little alice could read me like a book -i'd to tell her of what had happened, and i said that i must leave -for a pointsman's arm ain't trusty when terror lurks in his sleeve - -but she cheered me up in a minute, and that night, ere we went to sleep -she made me give her a promise, which i swore that i'd always keep -it was always to do my duty. "do that, and then, come what will -you'll have no worry." said alice, "if things go well or ill -there's something that always tells us the thing that we ought to do -my wife was a bit religious, and in with the chapel crew - -now, the very next day the missus had to go to the market town -she'd the christmas things to see to, and she wanted to buy a gown -she'd be gone for a spell, for the parley didn't come back till eight -and i knew, on a christmas eve, too, the trains would be extra late -so she settled to leave me johnny, and then she could turn the key -for she'd have some parcels to carry, and the boy would be safe with me -he was five, was our little johnny, and quiet, and nice, and good -he was mad to go with daddy, and i'd often promised he should - -it was noon when the missus started,--her train went by my box -she could see, as she passed my window, her darling's curly locks -i lifted him up to mammy, and he kissed his little hand -then sat, like a mouse, in the corner, and thought it was fairyland -but somehow i fell a-thinking of a scene that would not fade -of how i had slept on duty, until i grew afraid -for the thought would weigh upon me, one day i might come to lie -in a felon's cell for the slaughter of those i had doomed to die - -the fit that had come upon me, like a hideous nightmare seemed -till i rubbed my eyes and started like a sleeper who has dreamed -for a time the box had vanished--i'd worked like a mere machine -my mind had been on the wander, and i'd neither heard nor seen -with a start i thought of johnny, and i turned the boy to seek -then i uttered a groan of anguish, for my lips refused to speak -there had flashed such a scene of horror swift on my startled sight -that it curdled my blood in terror and sent my red lips white - -it was all in one awful moment--i saw that the boy was lost -he had gone for a toy, i fancied, some child from a train had tossed -the local was easing slowly to stop at the station here -and the limited mail was coming, and i had the line to clear -i could hear the roar of the engine, i could almost feel its breath -and right on the center metals stood my boy in the jaws of death -on came the fierce fiend, tearing straight for the center line -and the hand that must wreck or save it, o merciful god, was mine - -up to god's ear that moment a wild, fierce question flew -on the wind came the words, "your duty," borne to my listening ear -then i set my teeth, and my breathing was fierce and short and quick -the hot black smoke of the engine came with a rush before -i turned the mail to the center, and by it flew with a roar - -then i sank on my knees in horror, and hid my ashen face -i had given my child to heaven; his life was a hundred's grace -had i held my hand a moment, i had hurled the flying mail -to shatter the creeping local that stood on the other rail -where is my boy, my darling? o god! let me hide my eyes -how can i look--his father--on that which there mangled lies -that voice!--o merciful heaven!--'tis the child's, and he calls my name -i hear, but i cannot see him, for my eyes are filled with flame - -i knew no more that night, sir, for i fell, as i heard the boy -the place reeled round, and i fainted,--swooned with the sudden joy -but i heard on the christmas morning, when i woke in my own warm bed -with alice's arms around me, and a strange wild dream in my head -that she'd come by the early local, being anxious about the lad -and had seen him there on the metals, and the sight nigh drove her mad -she had seen him just as the engine of the limited closed my view -and she leapt on the line and saved him just as the mail dashed through - -she was back in the train in a second, and both were safe and sound -the moment they stopped at the station she ran here, and i was found -with my eyes like a madman's glaring, and my face a ghastly white -i heard the boy, and i fainted, and i hadn't my wits that night -who told me to do my duty? what voice was that on the wind -was it fancy that brought it to me? or were there god's lips behind -if i hadn't 'a' done my duty--had i ventured to disobey -my bonny boy and his mother might have died by my hand that day - - - - -hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings -and phoebus 'gins arise -his steeds to water at those springs -on chaliced flowers that lies -and winking mary-buds begin -to ope their golden eyes -with every thing that pretty is -my lady sweet, arise -arise, arise - - - -in a dark and dismal alley where the sunshine never came -dwelt a little lad named tommy, sickly, delicate, and lame -he had never yet been healthy, but had lain since he was born -dragging out his weak existence well nigh hopeless and forlorn - -he was six, was little tommy, 'twas just five years ago -since his drunken mother dropped him, and the babe was crippled so -he had never known the comfort of a mother's tender care -but her cruel blows and curses made his pain still worse to bear - -there he lay within the cellar, from the morning till the night -starved, neglected, cursed, ill-treated, nought to make his dull life -bright -not a single friend to love him, not a loving thing to love -for he knew not of a saviour, or a heaven up above - -tommy's little heart was sinking, and he felt so lonely, till -floating up the quiet alley, wafted inwards from the street -came the sound of some one singing, sounding, oh! so clear and sweet - -eagerly did tommy listen as the singing came -oh! that he could see the singer! how he wished he wasn't lame -then he called and shouted loudly, till the singer heard the sound -and on noting whence it issued, soon the little cripple found - -all her garments torn and ragged, her appearance far from neat -most folks call me singing jessie; wot may your name chance to be - -for it makes me feel so happy--sing me something, anything -jessie laughed, and answered smiling, "i can't stay here very long -but i'll sing a hymn to please you, wot i calls the 'glory song - -then she sang to him of heaven, pearly gates, and streets of gold -where the happy angel children are not starved or nipped with cold -but where happiness and gladness never can decrease or end -and where kind and loving jesus is their sovereign and their friend - -oh! how tommy's eyes did glisten as he drank in every word -as it fell from "singing jessie"--was it true, what he had heard -and so anxiously he asked her, "is there really such a place -and a tear began to trickle down his pallid little face - -and if yer will love the saviour, yer shall go there when yer die -when i'm down in this 'ere cellar, and he's up in heaven above - -so the little ragged maiden who had heard at sunday school -all about the way to heaven, and the christian's golden rule -taught the little cripple tommy how to love, and how to pray -then she sang a "song of jesus," kissed his cheek and went away - -tommy lay within the cellar which had grown so dark and cold -thinking all about the children in the streets of shining gold -and he heeded not the darkness of that damp and chilly room -for the joy in tommy's bosom could disperse the deepest gloom - -so he put his hands together, and he closed his little eyes -and in accents weak, yet earnest, sent this message to the skies - -that yer cared for little cripples who is weak and very poor -and i never heard of heaven till that jessie came to-day -and told me all about it, so i wants to try and pray - -and i somehow must believe it, for it seems so prime and good -and she told me if i loved you, i should see yer when i die -in the bright and happy heaven that is up beyond the sky - -for i heard my mother whisper, she'd be glad if i could go -and i'm cold and hungry sometimes; and i feel so lonely, too -can't yer take me, gentle jesus, up to heaven along o' you - -and your kindness to me, jesus, i would surely not forget -i would love you all i know of, and would never make a noise -can't you find me just a corner, where i'll watch the other boys - -for i feel so glad and happy, and i do so want to go -how i long to see yer, jesus, and the children all so bright -come and fetch me, won't yer, jesus? come and fetch me home tonight - -tommy ceased his supplication, he had told his soul's desire -and he waited for the answer till his head began to tire -then he turned towards his corner and lay huddled in a heap -closed his little eyes so gently, and was quickly fast asleep - -oh, i wish that every scoffer could have seen his little face -as he lay there in the corner, in that damp, and noisome place -for his countenance was shining like an angel's, fair and bright -and it seemed to fill the cellar with a holy, heavenly light - -he had only heard of jesus from a ragged singing girl -he might well have wondered, pondered, till his brain began to whirl -but he took it as she told it, and believed it then and there -simply trusting in the saviour, and his kind and tender care - -in the morning, when the mother came to wake her crippled boy -she discovered that his features wore a look of sweetest joy -and she shook him somewhat roughly, but the cripple's face was cold -he had gone to join the children in the streets of shining gold - -tommy's prayer had soon been answered, and the angel death had come -to remove him from his cellar, to his bright and heavenly home -where sweet comfort, joy, and gladness never can decrease or end -and where jesus reigns eternally, his sovereign and his friend - - - -it was a bright and lovely summer's morn -fair bloomed the flowers, the birds sang softly sweet -the air was redolent with perfumed balm -and nature scattered, with unsparing hand -her loveliest graces over hill and dale -an artist, weary of his narrow room -within the city's pent and heated walls -had wandered long amid the ripening fields -until, remembering his neglected themes -he thought to turn his truant steps toward home -these led him through a rustic, winding lane -lined with green hedge-rows spangled close with flowers -and overarched by trees of noblest growth -but when at last he reached the farther end -of this sweet labyrinth, he there beheld -a vision of such pure, pathetic grace -that weariness and haste were both obscured -it was a child--a young and lovely child -with eyes of heavenly hue, bright golden hair -and dimpled hands clasped in a morning prayer -kneeling beside its youthful mother's knee -upon that baby brow of spotless snow -no single trace of guilt, or pain, or woe -no line of bitter grief or dark despair -of envy, hatred, malice, worldly care -had ever yet been written. with bated breath -and hand uplifted as in warning, swift -the artist seized his pencil, and there traced -in soft and tender lines that image fair -then, when 'twas finished, wrote beneath one word -a word of holiest import--innocence - -years fled and brought with them a subtle change -scattering time's snow upon the artist's brow -but leaving there the laurel wreath of fame -while all men spake in words of praise his name -for he had traced full many a noble work -upon the canvas that had touched men's souls -and drawn them from the baser things of earth -toward the light and purity of heaven -one day, in tossing o'er his folio's leaves -he chanced upon the picture of the child -which he had sketched that bright morn long before -and then forgotten. now, as he paused to gaze -a ray of inspiration seemed to dart -straight from those eyes to his. he took the sketch -placed it before his easel, and with care -that seemed but pleasure, painted a fair theme -touching and still re-touching each bright lineament -until all seemed to glow with life divine -the artist could not pause. he needs must have -a meet companion for his fairest theme -and so he sought the wretched haunts of sin -through miry courts of misery and guilt -seeking a face which at the last was found -within a prison cell there crouched a man -nay, rather say a fiend--with countenance seamed -and marred by all the horrid lines of sin -each mark of degradation might be traced -and every scene of horror he had known -and every wicked deed that he had done -were visibly written on his lineaments -even the last, worst deed of all, that left him here -a parricide within a murderer's cell - -here then the artist found him; and with hand -made skillful by its oft-repeated toil -transferred unto his canvas that vile face -and also wrote beneath it just one word -a word of darkest import--it was vice -then with some inspiration not his own -thinking, perchance, to touch that guilty heart -and wake it to repentance e'er too late -the artist told the tale of that bright morn -placed the two pictured faces side by side -and brought the wretch before them. with a shriek -that echoed through those vaulted corridors -like to the cries that issue from the lips -of souls forever doomed to woe -prostrate upon the stony floor he fell -and hid his face and groaned aloud in anguish -in the gracious years forever fled -that innocent and happy little child -these very hands were raised to god in prayer -that now are reddened with a mother's blood -great heaven! can such things be? almighty power -send forth thy dart and strike me where i lie - -he rose, laid hold upon the artist's arm -and grasped it with demoniac power -the while he cried: "go forth, i say, go forth -and tell my history to the tempted youth -i looked upon the wine when it was red -i heeded not my mother's piteous prayers -i heeded not the warnings of my friends -but tasted of the wine when it was red -until it left a demon in my heart -that led me onward, step by step, to this -this horrible place from which my body goes -unto the gallows, and my soul to hell -he ceased as last. the artist turned and fled -but even as he went, unto his ears -were borne the awful echoes of despair -which the lost wretch flung on the empty air -cursing the demon that had brought him there - - -there are two kinds of people on earth to-day -just two kinds of people, no more, i say - -not the sinner and saint, for it's well understood -the good are half bad and the bad are half good - -not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man's wealth -you must first know the state of his conscience and health - -not the humble and proud, for in life's little span -who puts on vain airs is not counted a man - -not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years -bring each man his laughter and each man his tears - -no; the two kinds of people on earth i mean -are the people who lift and the people who lean - -wherever you go, you will find the earth's masses -are always divided in just these two classes - -and, oddly enough, you will find, too, i ween -there's only one lifter to twenty who lean - -in which class are you? are you easing the load -of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road - -or are you a leaner, who lets others share -your portion of labor, and worry and care - - - -it isn't the thing you do, dear -it's the thing you leave undone -that gives you a bit of a heartache -at the setting of the sun -the tender word forgotten -the letter you did not write -the flowers you did not send, dear -are your haunting ghosts at night - -the stone you might have lifted -out of a brother's way -the bit of hearthstone counsel -you were hurried too much to say -the loving touch of the hand, dear -the gentle, winning tone -which you had no time nor thought for -with troubles enough of your own - -those little acts of kindness -so easily out of mind -those chances to be angels -which we poor mortals find -they come in night and silence -each sad, reproachful wraith -when hope is faint and flagging -and a chill has fallen on faith - -for life is all too short, dear -and sorrow is all too great -to suffer our slow compassion -that tarries until too late -and it isn't the thing you do, dear -it's the thing you leave undone -which gives you a bit of a heartache -at the setting of the sun - - - -give me that grand old volume, the gift of a mother's love -tho' the spirit that first taught me has winged its flight above -yet, with no legacy but this, she has left me wealth untold -yea, mightier than earth's riches, or the wealth of ophir's gold - -when a child, i've kneeled beside her, in our dear old cottage home -and listened to her reading from that prized and cherished tome -as with low and gentle cadence, and a meek and reverent mien -god's word fell from her trembling lips, like a presence felt and seen - -solemn and sweet the counsels that spring from its open page -written with all the fervor and zeal of the prophet age -full of the inspiration of the holy bards who trod -caring not for the scoffer's scorn, if they gained a soul to god - -men who in mind were godlike, and have left on its blazoned scroll -food for all coming ages in its manna of the soul -who, through long days of anguish, and nights devoid of ease -still wrote with the burning pen of faith its higher mysteries - -i can list that good man yonder, in the gray church by the brook -take up that marvelous tale of love, of the story and the book -how through the twilight glimmer, from the earliest dawn of time -it was handed down as an heirloom, in almost every clime - -how through strong persecution and the struggle of evil days -the precious light of the truth ne'er died, but was fanned to a beacon -blaze -how in far-off lands, where the cypress bends o'er the laurel bough -it was hid like some precious treasure, and they bled for its truth, as - -he tells how there stood around it a phalanx none could break -though steel and fire and lash swept on, and the cruel wave lapt the stake -how dungeon doors and prison bars had never damped the flame -but raised up converts to the creed whence christian comfort came - -that housed in caves and caverns--how it stirs our scottish blood -the convenanters, sword in hand, poured forth the crimson flood -and eloquent grows the preacher, as the sabbath sunshine falls -thro' cobwebbed and checkered pane, a halo on the walls - -that still 'mid sore disaster, in the heat and strife of doubt -some bear the gospel oriflamme, and one by one march out -till forth from heathen kingdoms, and isles beyond the sea -the glorious tidings of the book spread christ's salvation free - -so i cling to my mother's bible, in its torn and tattered boards -as one of the greatest gems of art, and the king of all other hoards -as in life the true consoler, and in death ere the judgment call -the guide that will lead to the shining shore, where the father waits -for all - - -this poem was read by edwin markham at the dedication of the lincoln -memorial at washington, d.c., may 30, 1922. before reading, he said: "no -oration, no poem, can rise to the high level of this historic hour -nevertheless, i venture to inscribe this revised version of my lincoln -poem to this stupendous lincoln memorial, to this far-shining monument -of remembrance, erected in immortal marble to the honor of our deathless -martyr--the consecrated statesman, the ideal american, the ever-beloved -friend of humanity - -when the norn mother saw the whirlwind hour -greatening and darkening as it hurried on -she left the heaven of heroes and came down -to make a man to meet the mortal need -she took the tried clay of the common road -clay warm yet with the genial heat of earth -dasht through it all a strain of prophecy -tempered the heap with thrill of human tears -then mixt a laughter with the serious stuff -into the shape she breathed a flame to light -that tender, tragic, ever-changing face -and laid on him a sense of the mystic powers -moving--all husht--behind the mortal veil -here was a man to hold against the world -a man to match the mountains and the sea - -the color of the ground was in him, the red earth -the smack and tang of elemental things -the rectitude and patience of the cliff -the good-will of the rain that loves all leaves -the friendly welcome of the wayside well -the courage of the bird that dares the sea -the gladness of the wind that shakes the corn -the pity of the snow that hides all scars -the secrecy of streams that make their way -under the mountain to the rifted rock -the tolerance and equity of light -that gives as freely to the shrinking flower -as to the great oak flaring to the wind -to the grave's low hill as to the matterhorn -that shoulders out the sky. sprung from the west -he drank the valorous youth of a new world -the strength of virgin forests braced his mind -the hush of spacious prairies stilled his soul -his words were oaks in acorns; and his thoughts -were roots that firmly gript the granite truth - -up from log cabin to the capitol -one fire was on his spirit, one resolve -to send the keen ax to the root of wrong -clearing a free way for the feet of god -the eyes of conscience testing every stroke -to make his deed the measure of a man -he built the rail-pile as he built the state -pouring his splendid strength through every blow -the grip that swung the ax in illinois -was on the pen that set a people free - -so came the captain with the mighty heart -and when the judgment thunders split the house -wrenching the rafters from their ancient rest -he held the ridgepole up, and spikt again -the rafters of the home. he held his place -held the long purpose like a growing tree -held on through blame and faltered not at praise -and when he fell in whirlwind, he went down -as when a lordly cedar, green with boughs -goes down with a great shout upon the hills -and leaves a lonesome place against the sky - - - -if i had known in the morning -how wearily all the day -the words unkind -would trouble my mind -i said when you went away -i had been more careful, darling -nor given you needless pain -but we vex "our own -with look and tone -we may never take back again - -for though in the quiet evening -you may give me the kiss of peace -yet it might be -that never for me -the pain of the heart should cease -how many go forth in the morning -that never come home at night -and hearts have broken -for harsh words spoken -that sorrow can ne'er set right - -we have careful thoughts for the stranger -and smiles for the sometime guest -but oft for "our own -the bitter tone -though we love "our own" the best -ah, lips with the curve impatient -ah, brow with that look of scorn -were the night too late -to undo the work of morn - - - -the gate was thrown open, i rode out alone -more proud than a monarch, who sits on a throne -i am but a jockey, but shout upon shout -went up from the people who watched me ride out -and the cheers that rang forth from that warm-hearted crowd -were as earnest as those to which monarch e'er bowed -my heart thrilled with pleasure so keen it was pain -as i patted my salvator's soft, silken mane -and a sweet shiver shot from his hide to my hand -as we passed by the multitude down to the stand -the great wave of cheering came billowing back -as the hoofs of brave tenny ran swift down the track -and he stood there beside us, all bone and all muscle -our noble opponent, well trained for the tussle -that waited us there on the smooth, shining course -my salvator, fair to the lovers of horse -as a beautiful woman is fair to man's sight -pure type of the thoroughbred, clean-limbed and bright -stood taking the plaudits as only his due -and nothing at all unexpected or new - -and then there before us as the bright flag is spread -there's a roar from the grand stand, and tenny's ahead -at the sound of the voices that shouted, "a go -he sprang like an arrow shot straight from the bow -i tighten the reins on prince charlie's great son -he is off like a rocket, the race is begun -half-way down the furlong their heads are together -scarce room 'twixt their noses to wedge in a feather -past grand stand, and judges, in neck-to-neck strife -ah, salvator, boy, 'tis the race of your life -i press my knees closer, i coax him, i urge -i feel him go out with a leap and a surge -i see him creep on, inch by inch, stride by stride -while backward, still backward, falls tenny beside -we are nearing the turn, the first quarter is passed -the distance elongates; still tenny sweeps on -as graceful and free-limbed and swift as a fawn -his awkwardness vanished, his muscles all strained -a noble opponent well born and well trained - -i glanced o'er my shoulder; ha! tenny! the cost -of that one second's flagging will be--the race lost -one second's yielding of courage and strength -and the daylight between us has doubled its length -the first mile is covered, the race is mine--no -for the blue blood of tenny responds to a blow -he shoots through the air like a ball from a gun -and the two lengths between us are shortened to one -my heart is contracted, my throat feels a lump -for tenny's long neck is at salvator's rump -and now with new courage grown bolder and bolder -i see him once more running shoulder to shoulder -with knees, hands and body i press my grand steed -i urge him, i coax him, i pray him to heed -o salvator! salvator! list to my calls -for the blow of my whip will hurt both if it falls -there's a roar from the crowd like the ocean in storm -as close to the saddle leaps tenny's great form -one mighty plunge, and with knee, limb and hand -i lift my horse first by a nose past the stand -we are under the string now--the great race is done -and salvator, salvator, salvator won - -cheer, hoary-headed patriarchs; cheer loud, i say -though ye live twice the space that's allotted to men -ye never will see such a grand race again -let the shouts of the populace roar like the surf -for salvator, salvator, king of the turf -he has rivaled the record of thirteen long years -he has won the first place in the vast line of peers -and even his enemies grant him his place -down into the dust let old records be hurled -and hang out 2:05 to the gaze of the world - - - -i'd like to hunt the injuns 't roam the boundless plain -i'd like to be a pirate an' plow the ragin' main -an' capture some big island, in lordly pomp to rule -but i just can't be nothin' cause i got to go to school - -the least amount o' learnin' by a flickerin' pitch pine knot -an' many a darin' boy like me grows up to be a fool -an' never 'mounts to nothin' 'cause he's got to go to school - -i'd like to be a cowboy an' rope the texas steer -i'd like to be a sleuth-houn' or a bloody buccaneer -an' leave the foe to welter where their blood had made a pool -but how can i git famous? 'cause i got to go to school - -i don't see how my parents kin make the big mistake -o' keepin' down a boy like me 'at's got a name to make -it ain't no wonder boys is bad, an' balky as a mule -life ain't worth livin' if you've got to waste your time in school - -i'd like to be regarded as "the terror of the plains -i'd like to hear my victims shriek an' clank their prison chains -i'd like to face the enemy with gaze serene an' cool -an' wipe 'em off the earth, but pshaw! i got to go to school - -what good is 'rithmetic an' things, exceptin' jest for girls -er them there fauntleroys 'at wears their hair in pretty curls -an' if my name is never seen on hist'ry's page, why, you'll -remember 'at it's all because i got to go to school - - - - -silent he watched them--the soldiers and dog -tin toys on the little armchair -keeping their tryst through the slow going years -for the hand that had stationed them there -and he said that perchance the dust and the rust -hid the griefs that the toy friends knew -and his heart watched with them all the dark years -yearning ever for little boy blue - -three mourners they were for little boy blue -three ere the cold winds had begun -now two are left watching--the soldier and dog -but for him the vigil is done -for him too, the angel has chanted a song -a song that is lulling and true -he has seen the white gates of the mansions of rest -thrown wide by his little boy blue - -god sent not the angel of death for his soul -not the reaper who cometh for all -but out of the shadows that curtained the day -he heard his lost little one call -heard the voice that he loved, and following fast -passed on to the far-away strand -and he walks the streets of the city of peace -with little boy blue by the hand - - - -in gettysburg at break of day -the hosts of war are held in leash -to gird them for the coming fray -e'er brazen-throated monsters flame -mad hounds of death that tear and maim -ho, boys in blue -and gray so true -fate calls to-day the roll of fame - -on cemetery hill was done -the clangor of four hundred guns -through drifting smoke the morning sun -shone down a line of battled gray -where pickett's waiting soldiers lay -virginians all -heed glory's call -you die at gettysburg to-day - -great lee had named; he knew them well -oft had their steel the battle stayed -o warriors of the eagle plume -fate points for you the hour of doom -ring rebel yell -war cry and knell -the stars, to-night, will set in gloom - -o pickett's men, ye sons of fate -awe-stricken nations bide your deeds -for you the centuries did wait -while wrong had writ her lengthening scroll -and god had set the judgment roll -a thousand years -shall wait in tears -and one swift hour bring to goal - -the charge is done, a cause is lost -but pickett's men heed not the din -of ragged columns battle tost -for fame enshrouds them on the field -and pierced, virginia, is thy shield -but stars and bars -shall drape thy scars -no cause is lost till honor yield - - -w'en you see a man in woe -walk right up and say "hullo -say "hullo" and "how d'ye do -how's the world a-usin' you -slap the fellow on the back -bring your hand down with a whack -walk right up, and don't go slow -grin an' shake, an' say "hullo - -is he clothed in rags? oh! sho -walk right up an' say "hullo -rags is but a cotton roll -jest for wrappin' up a soul -an' a soul is worth a true -hale and hearty "how d'ye do -don't wait for the crowd to go -walk right up and say "hullo - -when big vessels meet, they say -they saloot an' sail away -jest the same are you an' me -lonesome ships upon a sea -each one sailin' his own log -for a port behind the fog -let your speakin' trumpet blow -lift your horn an' cry "hullo - -say "hullo!" an' "how d'ye do -other folks are good as you -w'en you leave your house of clay -wanderin' in the far away -w'en you travel through the strange -country t'other side the range -then the souls you've cheered will know -who ye be, an' say "hullo - - - -bring, novelist, your note-book! bring, dramatist, your pen -and i'll tell you a simple story of what women do for men -it's only a tale of a lifeboat, of the dying and the dead -of the terrible storm and shipwreck that happened off mumbles head -maybe you have traveled in wales, sir, and know it north and south -maybe you are friends with the "natives" that dwell at oystermouth -it happens, no doubt, that from bristol you've crossed in a casual way -and have sailed your yacht in the summer in the blue of swansea bay - -well! it isn't like that in the winter, when the lighthouse stands alone -in the teeth of atlantic breakers that foam on its face of stone -it wasn't like that when the hurricane blew, and the storm-bell tolled -or when -there was news of a wreck, and the lifeboat launched, and a desperate cry -for men -when in the world did the coxswain shirk? a brave old salt was he -proud to the bone of as four strong lads as ever had tasted the sea -welshmen all to the lungs and loins, who, about that coast, 'twas said -had saved some hundred lives apiece--at a shilling or so a head - -so the father launched the lifeboat, in the teeth of the tempest's roar -and he stood like a man at the rudder, with an eye on his boys at the oar -out to the wreck went the father! out to the wreck went the sons -leaving the weeping of women, and booming of signal guns -leaving the mother who loved them, and the girls that the sailors love -going to death for duty, and trusting to god above -do you murmur a prayer, my brothers, when cozy and safe in bed -for men like these, who are ready to die for a wreck off mumbles head -it didn't go well with the lifeboat! 'twas a terrible storm that blew -and it snapped the' rope in a second that was flung to the drowning crew - -and then the anchor parted--'twas a tussle to keep afloat -but the father stuck to the rudder, and the boys to the brave old boat -then at last on the poor doomed lifeboat a wave broke mountains high -half of the crew swam shoreward, half to the sheltered caves -but father and sons were fighting death in the foam of the angry waves - -up at a lighthouse window two women beheld the storm -and saw in the boiling breakers a figure--a fighting form -it might be a gray-haired father, then the women held their breath -it might be a fair-haired brother, who was having a round with death -it might be a lover, a husband, whose kisses were on the lips -of the women whose love is the life of men going down to the sea in ships -they had seen the launch of the lifeboat, they had seen the worst, and -then, kissing each other, these women went down from the lighthouse -straight to shore - -there by the rocks on the breakers these sisters, hand in hand -beheld once more that desperate man who struggled to reach the land -but what are a couple of women with only a man to save -what are a couple of women? well, more than three craven men -who stood by the shore with chattering teeth, refusing to stir--and then -off went the women's shawls, sir; in a second they're torn and rent -then knotting them into a rope of love, straight into the sea they went - -as they caught the waves on their foreheads, resisting the fierce attack - -we'll lose our lives, god willing, before that man shall drown - -just follow me, brave, to the shingle, and we'll bring him safe to land -wait for the next wave, darling! only a minute more -and i'll have him safe in my arms, dear, and we'll drag him to the shore -up to the arms in the water, fighting it breast to breast -they caught and saved a brother alive. god bless them! you know the rest -well, many a heart beat stronger, and many a tear was shed -and many a glass was tossed right off to "the women of mumbles head - - - -that man on the enjine thar -don't pack the han'somest countenance -every inch of it sportin' a scar -but i tell you, pard, thar ain't money enough -piled up in the national banks -to buy that face, nor a single scar - -an' a better one never war knowed -bin a runnin' yar since the fust machine -war put on the quincy road -an' thar ain't a galoot that pulls a plug -from maine to the jumpin' off place -that knows more about the big iron hoss -than him with the battered-up face - -in a sort o' legitimate way -he got it a-trying to save a gal -up yar on the road last may -i heven't much time for to spin you the yarn -for we pull out at two-twenty-five -just wait till i climb up an' toss in some coal -so's to keep old '90' alive - -left quincy a half an hour late -an' war skimmin' along purty lively, so's not -to lay out no. 21 freight -the '90' war more than whoopin' 'em up -an' a-quiverin' in every nerve -when all to once jim yelled 'merciful god -as she shoved her sharp nose 'round a curve - -stood a gal on the track, her hands raised aloft -an' her face jist as white as the snow -it seems she war so paralyzed with the fright -that she couldn't move for'ard or back -an' when jim pulled the whistle she fainted an' fell -right down in a heap on the track - -the look that cum over jim's face -he throw'd the old lever cl'r back like a shot -so's to slacken the '90's' wild pace -then let on the air brakes as quick as a flash -an' out through the window he fled -an' skinned 'long the runnin' board cla'r in front -an' lay on the pilot ahead - -he grabbed a tight hold, of her arm -an' raised her right up so's to throw her one side -out o' reach of danger an' harm -but somehow he slipped an' fell with his head -on the rail as he throw'd the young lass -an' the pilot in strikin' him, ground up his face -in a frightful and horrible mass - -to that spot where the poor fellow lay -an' there sot the gal with his head in her lap -an' wipin' the warm blood away -the tears rolled in torrents right down from her eyes -while she sobbed like her heart war all broke -i tell you, my friend, such a sight as that 'ar -would move the tough heart of an oak - -what for week arter week the boy lay -a-hoverin' right in the shadder o' death -an' that gal by his bed every day -but nursin' an' doctorin' brought him around -kinder snatched him right outer the grave -his face ain't so han'some as 'twar, but his heart -remains just as noble an' brave - -he fell dead in love, did this jim -but hadn't the heart to ax her to have -sich a batter'd-up rooster as him -she know'd how he felt, and last new year's day -war the fust o' leap year as you know -so she jist cornered jim an' proposed on the spot -an' you bet he didn't say no - -an' has laid up a snug pile o' cash -the weddin's to be on the first o' next may -jist a year from the day o' the smash -the gal says he risked his dear life to save hers -an' she'll just turn the tables about -an' give him the life that he saved--thar's the bell -good day, sir, we're goin' to pull out - - -sometimes w'en i am playin' with some fellers 'at i knows -my ma she comes to call me, 'cause she wants me, i surpose -an' then she calls in this way: "willie! willie, dear! willee-e-ee -an' you'd be surprised to notice how dretful deef i be -an' the fellers 'at are playin' they keeps mos' orful still -w'ile they tell me, jus' in whispers: "your ma is callin', bill -but my hearin' don't git better, so fur as i can see -w'ile my ma stan's there a-callin': "willie! willie, dear! willee-e-ee - -an' soon my ma she gives it up, an' says: "well, i'll allow -it's mighty cur'us w'ere that boy has got to, anyhow -an' then i keep on playin' jus' the way i did before -i know if she was wantin' much she'd call to me some more -an' purty soon she comes agin an' says: "willie! willee-e-ee -but my hearin's jus' as hard as w'at it useter be -if a feller has good judgment, an' uses it that way -he can almos' allers manage to git consid'ble play - -but jus' w'ile i am playin', an' prob'ly i am "it -they's somethin' diff'rent happens, an' i have to up, an' git -fer my pa comes to the doorway, an' he interrup's our glee -he jus' says, "william henry!" but that's enough fer me -you'd be surprised to notice how quickly i can hear -w'en my pa says, "william henry!" but never "willie, dear -fer though my hearin's middlin' bad to hear the voice of ma -it's apt to show improvement w'en the callin' comes from pa - - -dear little flag in the window there -hung with a tear and a woman's prayer -child of old glory, born with a star -oh, what a wonderful flag you are - -blue is your star in its field of white -dipped in the red that was born of fight -born of the blood that our forebears shed -to raise your mother, the flag, o'er-head - -and now you've come, in this frenzied day -to speak from a window--to speak and say -gone, to be gone till the victory's won - -the flag of his mother--i speak for her -who stands by my window and waits and fears -but hides from the others her unwept tears - -for the safe return of a martial mate -a mate gone forth where the war god thrives -to save from sacrifice other men's wives - -the often unthought of--the sisters, too -i am the flag of a mother's son -who won't come home till the victory's won - -dear little flag in the window there -hung with a tear and a woman's prayer -child of old glory, born with a star -oh, what a wonderful flag you are - - - - -cheeriest room, that morn, the kitchen. helped by bridget's willing hands -bustled hannah, deftly mixing pies, for ready waiting pans -little flossie flitted round them, and her curling, floating hair -glinted gold-like, gleamed and glistened, in the sparkling sunlit air -slouched a figure o'er the lawn; a man so wretched and forlore -tattered, grim, so like a beggar, ne'er had trod that path before -his shirt was torn, his hat was gone, bare and begrimed his knees -face with blood and dirt disfigured, elbows peeped from out his sleeves -rat-tat-tat, upon the entrance, brought aunt hannah to the door -parched lips humbly plead for water, as she scanned his misery o'er -wrathful came the dame's quick answer; made him cower, shame, and start -out of sight, despairing, saddened, hurt and angry to the heart -move, you thief! leave now these grounds, sir, or our dogs will help you -quick -then the man with dragging footsteps hopeless, wishing himself dead -crept away from sight of plenty, starved in place of being fed -wandered farther from the mansion, till he reached a purling brook -babbling, trilling broken music by a green and shady nook -here sweet flossie found him fainting; in her hands were food and drink -pale like death lay he before her, yet the child-heart did not shrink -then the rags from off his forehead, she with dainty hands offstripped -in the brooklet's rippling waters, her own lace-trimmed 'kerchief dipped -then with sweet and holy pity, which, within her, did not daunt -bathed the blood and grime-stained visage of that sin-soiled son of want -wrung she then the linen cleanly, bandaged up the wound again -ere the still eyes opened slowly; white lips murmuring, "am i sane -paused he mute and undecided, while deep sobs his form did shake -with an avalanche of feeling, and great tears came rolling down -o'er a face unused to showing aught except a sullen frown -that "our god" unsealed a fountain his whole life had never known -when that human angel near him spoke of her god as his own -it may help you to forgive her: 'love your enemies and those -who despitefully may use you; love them whether friends or foes - -then she glided from his vision, left him prostrate on the ground -conning o'er and o'er that lesson--with a grace to him new found -sunlight filtering through green branches as they wind-wave dance and dip -finds a prayer his mother taught him, trembling on his crime-stained lip -hist! a step, an angry mutter, and the owner of the place -gentle flossie's haughty father, and the tramp stood face to face -off with it, and cast it down here. come! be quick about it now -as the man did not obey him, flossie's father lashed his cheek -with a riding-whip he carried; struck him hard and cut him deep -quick the tramp bore down upon him, felled him, o'er him where he lay -raised a knife to seek his life-blood. then there came a thought to stay -all his angry, murderous impulse, caused the knife to shuddering fall -at midnight, lambent, lurid flames light up the sky with fiercest beams -wild cries, "fire! fire!" ring through the air, and red like blood each -flame now seems -they faster grow, they higher throw weird, direful arms which ever lean -about the gray stone mansion old. now roars the wind to aid the scene -the flames yet higher, wilder play. a shudder runs through all around -distinctly as in light of day, at topmost window from the ground -sweet flossie stands, her golden hair enhaloed now by firelit air -loud rang the father's cry: "o god! my child! my child! will no one dare -for her sweet sake the flaming stair?" look, one steps forth with muffled -leaps through the flames with fleetest feet, on trembling ladder runs a -with life and death--the window gains. deep silence falls on all around -till bursts aloud a sobbing wail. the ladder falls with crashing sound -a flaming, treacherous mass. o god! she was so young and he so brave -look once again. see! see! on highest roof he stands--the fiery wave -fierce rolling round--his arms enclasp the child--god help him yet to save -he cries, then makes a vaulting leap -a tree branch catches, with sure aim -and by the act proclaims his name -the air was rent, the cheers rang loud -a rough voice cried from out the crowd -none dares that leap but flying jim -a jail-bird--outlaw--thief, indeed -yet o'er them all takes kingly lead -i've breathed the flames, 'twill not be long -then hushed all murmurs through the throng -with reverent hands they bore him where -the summer evening's cooling air -came softly sighing through the trees -the child's proud father on his knees -forgiveness sought of god and jim -which dying lips accorded him -a mark of whip on white face stirred -to gleaming scarlet at his words -she taught me that and i fulfill -i would her hand might touch my face -though she's so pure and i so base -low flossie bent and kissed the brow -with smile of bliss transfigured now -death, the angel, sealed it there - - - -in a pioneer's cabin out west, so they say -a great big black grizzly trotted one day -and seated himself on the hearths and began -to lap the contents of a two gallon pan -of milk and potatoes,--an excellent meal -and then looked, about to see what he could steal -the lord of the mansion awoke from his sleep -and, hearing a racket, he ventured to peep -just out in the kitchen, to see what was there -and was scared to behold a great grizzly bear - -so he screamed in alarm to his slumbering frau -so betty leaped up, and the poker she seized -while her man shut the door, and against it he squeezed -as betty then laid on the grizzly her blows -now on his forehead, and now on his nose -her man through the key-hole kept shouting within -now poke with the poker, and' poke his eyes out -so, with rapping and poking, poor betty alone -at last laid sir bruin as dead as a stone - -now when the old man saw the bear was no more -he ventured to poke his nose out of the door -and there was the grizzly stretched on the floor -then off to the neighbors he hastened, to tell -all the wonderful things that that morning befell -and he published the marvellous story afar -how "me and my betty jist slaughtered a bar -o yes, come and see, all the neighbors they seed it -come and see what we did, me and betty, we did it - - -they grew in beauty, side by side -they filled one home with glee -their graves are severed, far and wide -by mount, and stream and sea - -the same fond mother bent at night -o'er each fair sleeping brow -she had each folded flower in sight -where are those dreamers now - -one, 'midst the forest of the west -by a dark stream is laid -the indian knows his place of rest -far in the cedar shade - -the sea, the blue lone sea, hath one -he lies where pearls lie deep -o'er his low bed may weep - -one sleeps where southern vines are drest -above the noble slain -he wrapped his colors round his breast -on a blood-red field of spain - -and one--o'er _her_ the myrtle showers -its leaves, by soft winds fanned -she faded 'midst italian flowers -the last of that bright band - -and parted thus they rest, who play'd -beneath the same green tree -whose voices mingled as they pray'd -around the parent knee - -they that with smiles lit up the hall -and cheer'd with song the hearth -alas! for love, if _thou_ wert all -and naught beyond, o earth - - - -nae shoon to hide her tiny taes -nae stockings on her feet -her supple ankles white as snow -or early blossoms sweet -her simple dress of sprinkled pink -her double, dimpled chin -her pucker'd lip and bonny mou -with nae ane tooth between -her een sae like her mither's een -twa gentle, liquid things -her face is like an angel's face -we're glad she has nae wings - - - -away, away in the northland -where the hours of the day are few -and the nights are so long in winter -they cannot sleep them through - -where they harness the swift reindeer -to the sledges, when it snows -and the children look like bears' cubs -in their funny, furry clothes - -they tell them a curious story -i don't believe 't is true -and yet you may learn a lesson -if i tell the tale to you - -once, when the good saint peter -lived in the world below -and walked about it, preaching -just as he did, you know - -he came to the door of a cottage -in traveling round the earth -where a little woman was making cakes -and baking them on the hearth - -and being faint with fasting -for the day was almost done -he asked her, from her store of cakes -to give him a single one - -so she made a very little cake -but as it baking lay -she looked at it, and thought it seemed -too large to give away - -therefore she kneaded another -and still a smaller one -but it looked, when she turned it over -as large as the first had done - -then she took a tiny scrap of dough -and rolled, and rolled it flat -and baked it thin as a wafer -but she couldn't part with that - -for she said, "my cakes that seem too small -when i eat of them myself -are yet too large to give away -so she put them on the shelf - -then good saint peter grew angry -for he was hungry and faint -and surely such a woman -was enough to provoke a saint - -and he said, "you are far too selfish -to dwell in a human form -to have both food and shelter -and fire to keep you warm - -and shall get your scanty food -by boring, and boring, and boring -all day in the hard dry wood - -then up she went through the chimney -never speaking a word -and out of the top flew a woodpecker -for she was changed to a bird - -she had a scarlet cap on her head -and that was left the same -bat all the rest of her clothes were burned -black as a coal in the flame - -and every country school boy -has seen her in the wood -where she lives in the woods till this very day -boring and boring for food - -and this is the lesson she teaches -live not for yourself alone -lest the needs you will not pity -shall one day be your own - -give plenty of what is given to you -listen to pity's call -don't think the little you give is great -and the much you get is small - -now, my little boy, remember that -and try to be kind and good -when you see the woodpecker's sooty dress -and see her scarlet hood - -you mayn't be changed to a bird, though you live -as selfishly as you can -but you will be changed to a smaller thing -a mean and selfish man - - - -did you tackle the trouble that came your way -with a resolute heart and cheerful -or hide year face from the light of day -with a craven soul and fearful -oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce -or a trouble is what you make it -and it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts -but only how did you take it - -you are beaten to earth? well, well, what's that -come up with a smiling face -its nothing against you to fall down flat -but to lie there--that's disgrace -the harder you're thrown, why, the higher the bounce -be proud of your blackened eye -it isn't the fact that you're licked that counts -it's how did you fight--and why - -and though you be done to the death, what then -if you battled the best you could -if you played your part in the world of men -why, the critic will call it good -death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce -and whether he's slow or spry -it isn't the fact that you're dead that counts -but only how did you die - - - -when the lessons and tasks are all ended -and the school for the day is dismissed -and the little ones gather around me -to bid me good-night and be kissed -oh, the little white arms that encircle -my neck in a tender embrace -oh, the smiles that are halos of heaven -shedding sunshine and love on my face - -and when they, are gone, i sit dreaming -of my childhood, too lovely to last -of love that my heart will remember -when it wakes to the pulse of the past -ere the world and its wickedness made me -a partner of sorrow and sin -when the glory of god was about me -and the glory of gladness within - -oh, my heart grows as weak as a woman's -and the fountains of feeling will flow -when i think of the paths, steep and stony -where the feet of the dear ones must go -of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them -of the tempests of fate blowing wild -oh, there's nothing on earth half so holy -as the innocent heart of a child - -they are idols of hearts and of households -they are angels of god in disguise -his sunlight still sleeps in their tresses -his glory still beams in their eyes -oh, those truants from earth and from heaven -they have made me more manly and mild -and i know how jesus could liken -the kingdom of god to a child - -seek not a life for the dear ones -all radiant, as others have done -but that life may have just enough shadow -to temper the glare of the sun -i would pray god to guard them from evil -but my prayer would bound back to myself -ah! a seraph may pray for a sinner -but the sinner must pray for himself - -the twig is so easily bended -i have banished the rule of the rod -i have taught them the goodness of knowledge -they have taught me the goodness of god -my heart is a dungeon of darkness -where i shut them from breaking a rule -my frown is sufficient correction -my love is the law of the school - -i shall leave the old house in the autumn -to traverse the threshold no more -ah! how i shall sigh for the dear ones -that meet me each morn at the door -i shall miss the good-nights and the kisses -and the gush of their innocent glee -the group on the green and the flowers -that are brought every morning to me - -i shall miss them at morn and at evening -their song in the school and the street -i shall miss the low hum of their voices -and the tramp of their delicate feet -when the lessons and tasks are all ended -and death says the school is dismissed -may the little ones gather around me -to bid me good-night and be kissed - - - -the sunlight shone on walls of stone -and towers sublime and tall -king alfred sat upon his throne -within his council hall - -and glancing o'er the splendid throng -with grave and solemn face -to where his noble vassals stood -he saw a vacant place - -with anxious look, he said - -before the monarch could express -the sorrow that he felt -a soldier, with a war-worn face -approached the throne, and knelt - -o king, at thy command -and many a proud and haughty dane -has fallen by my hand - -and 'neath the greenwood tree -it is but fair for thee to give -yon vacant place to me - -my wisdom has done more for thee -than either sword or spear - -have made thee more renown -than all the triumphs of the field -have given to thy crown - -my talents have been thine -bestow this earldom, then, on me -for it is justly mine - -yet, while before the monarch's throne -these men contending stood -a woman crossed the floor, who wore -the weeds of widowhood - -and slowly to king alfred's feet -a fair-haired boy she led -of holderness," she said - -let no man do him wrong -for he is weak and fatherless -and thou art just and strong - -can such a feeble child as this -do aught for thee, o king - -to draw thy deadly bows -when thou art wanting crafty men -to crush thy mortal foes - -with earnest voice the fair young boy -replied: "i cannot fight -but i can pray to god, o king -and god can give thee might - -the king bent down and kissed the child -the courtiers turned away - -our blood may stain the sod -but what are human strength and power -without the help of god - - - -try, try again -if at first you don't succeed -try, try again -then your courage shall appear -for if you will persevere -you will conquer, never fear -try, try again - -once or twice though you should fail -try, try again -if at last you would prevail -try, try again -if we strive 'tis no disgrace -tho' we may not win the race -what should you do in that case -try, try again - -if you find your task is hard -try, try again -time will bring you your reward -try, try again -all that other folks can do -why, with patience, may not you -only keep this rule in view -try, try again - - -ye say they all have passed away--that noble race and brave -that their light canoes have vanished from off the crested wave -that,'mid the forests where they roamed, there rings no hunter's shout -but their name is on your waters--ye may not wash it out - -where strong niagara's thunders wake the echo of the world -where red missouri bringeth rich tribute from the west -and rappahannock sweetly sleeps on green virginia's breast - -ye say their cone-like cabins, that clustered o'er the vale -have fled away like withered leaves, before the autumn's gale -but their memory liveth on your hills, their baptism on your shore -your everlasting rivers speak their dialect of yore - -old massachusetts wears it upon her lordly crown -and broad ohio bears it amid his young renown -connecticut hath wreathed it where her quiet foliage waves -and bold kentucky breathes it hoarse through all her ancient caves - -wachusett hides its lingering voice within his rocky heart -and alleghany graves its tone throughout his lofty chart -monadnock on his forehead hoar doth seal the sacred trust -your mountains build their monument, though ye destroy their dust - -ye call those red-browed brethren the insects of an hour -crushed like the noteless worm amid the regions of their power -ye drive them from their fathers' lands, ye break of faith the seal -but can ye from the court of heaven exclude their last appeal - -ye see their unresisting tribes, with toilsome steps and slow -on through the trackless desert pass, a caravan of woe -think ye the eternal ear is deaf? his sleepless vision dim -think ye the soul's blood may not cry from that far land to him - - - -sick in the hospital. he confided to a friend, colonel hawkins of -tennessee, that he was grieving because his fiancee, a nashville girl -had not written to him. the soldier died soon afterward, colonel hawkins -having promised to open and answer any mail that came for him. this poem -is in reply to a letter from his friend's fiancee, in which she curtly -broke the engagement - -your letter, lady, came too late -for heaven had claimed its own -ah, sudden change--from prison bars -unto the great white throne -and yet i think he would have stayed -to live for his disdain -could he have read the careless words -which you have sent in vain - -so full of patience did he wait -through many a weary hour -that o'er his simple soldier-faith -not even death had power -and you--did others whisper low -their homage in your ear -as though among their shallow throng -his spirit had a peer - -i would that you were by me now -to draw the sheet aside -and see how pure the look he wore -the moment when he died -the sorrow that you gave to him -had left its weary trace -as 'twere the shadow of the cross -upon his pallid face - -the winter's cold to spring -ah, trust of fickle maiden's love -thou art a bitter thing -for when these valleys, bright in may -once more with blossoms wave -the northern violets shall blow -above his humble grave - -your dole of scanty words had been -but one more pang to bear -for him who kissed unto the last -your tress of golden hair -i did not put it where he said -for when the angels come -i would not have them find the sign -of falsehood in the tomb - -i've read your letter, and i know -the wiles that you have wrought -to win that trusting heart of his -and gained it--cruel thought -what lavish wealth men sometimes give -for what is worthless all -what manly bosoms beat for them -in folly's falsest thrall - -you shall not pity him, for now -his sorrow has an end -yet would that you could stand with me -beside my fallen friend -and i forgive you for his sake -as he--if he be forgiven -may e'en be pleading grace for you -before the court of heaven - -to-night the cold winds whistle by -as i my vigil keep -within the prison dead-house, where -few mourners come to weep -a rude plank coffin holds his form -yet death exalts his face -and i would rather see him thus -than clasped in your embrace - -to-night your home may shine with light -and ring with merry song -and you be smiling as your soul -had done no deadly wrong -your hand so fair that none would think -it penned these words of pain -your skin so white--would god your heart -were half as free from stain - -i'd rather be my comrade dead -than you in life supreme -for yours the sinner's waking dread -and his the martyr's dream -whom serve we in this life we serve -in that which is to come -he chose his way, you--yours; let god -pronounce the fitting doom - - - -a harbor in a sunny, southern city -ships at their anchor, riding in the lee -a little lad, with steadfast eyes, and dreamy -who ever watched the waters lovingly - -a group of sailors, quaintly garbed and bearded -strange tales, that snared the fancy of the child -of far-off lands, strange beasts, and birds, and people -of storm and sea-fight, danger-filled and wild - -and ever in the boyish soul was ringing -the urging, surging challenge of the sea -to dare,--as these men dared, its wrath and danger -to learn,--as they, its charm and mystery - -columbus, by the sunny, southern harbor -you dreamed the dreams that manhood years made true -thank god for men--their deeds have crowned the ages -who once were little dreamy lads like you - - - -i'm not a chicken; i have seen -full many a chill september -and though i was a youngster then -that gale i well remember -the day before, my kite-string snapped -and i, my kite pursuing -the wind whisked off my palm-leaf hat -for me two storms were brewing - -it came as quarrels sometimes do -when married folks get clashing -there was a heavy sigh or two -before the fire was flashing -a little stir among the clouds -before they rent asunder -a little rocking of the trees -and then came on the thunder - -lord! how the ponds and rivers boiled -and how the shingles rattled -and oaks were scattered on the ground -as if the titans battled -and all above was in a howl -and all below a clatter -the earth was like a frying-pan -or some such hissing matter - -it chanced to be our washing-day -and all our things were drying -the storm came roaring through the lines -and set them all a-flying -i saw the shirts and petticoats -go riding off like witches -i lost, ah! bitterly i wept -i lost my sunday breeches - -i saw them straddling through the air -alas! too late to win them -i saw them chase the clouds, as if -the devil had been in them -they were my darlings and my pride -my boyhood's only riches - -that night i saw them in my dreams -how changed from what i knew them -the dews had steeped their faded threads -the winds had whistled through them -i saw the wide and ghastly rents -where demon claws had torn them -a hole was in their amplest part -as if an imp had worn them - -i have had many happy years -and tailors kind and clever -but those young pantaloons have gone -forever and forever -and not till fate has cut the last -of all my earthly stitches -this aching heart shall cease to mourn -my loved, my long-lost breeches - - - -somewhere, out on the blue sea sailing -where the winds dance and spin -beyond the reach of my eager hailing -over the breakers' din -out where the dark storm-clouds are lifting -out where the blinding fog is drifting -out where the treacherous sand is shifting -my ship is coming in - -o, i have watched till my eyes were aching -day after weary day -o, i have hoped till my heart was breaking -while the long nights ebbed away -could i but know where the waves had tossed her -could i but know what storms had crossed her -could i but know where the winds had lost her -out in the twilight gray - -but though the storms her course have altered -surely the port she'll win -never my faith in my ship has faltered -i know she is coming in -for through the restless ways of her roaming -through the mad rush of the wild waves foaming -through the white crest of the billows combing -my ship is coming in - -beating the tides where the gulls are flying -swiftly she's coming in -shallows and deeps and rocks defying -bravely she's coming in -precious the love she will bring to bless me -snowy the arms she will bring to caress me -in the proud purple of kings she will dress me -my ship that is coming in - -white in the sunshine her sails will be gleaming -see, where my ship comes in -at masthead and peak her colors streaming -proudly she's sailing in -love, hope and joy on her decks are cheering -music will welcome her glad appearing -and my heart will sing at her stately nearing -when my ship comes in - - - -laugh, and the world laughs with you -weep, and you weep alone -for the sad old earth must borrow its mirth -but has trouble enough of its own - -sing, and the hills will answer -sigh, it is lost on the air -the echoes bound to a joyful sound -but shirk from voicing care - -rejoice and men will seek you -grieve, and they turn and go -they want full measure of all your pleasure -but they do not need your woe - -be glad, and your friends are many -be sad, and you lose them all -there are none to decline your nectar'd wine -but alone you must drink life's gall - -feast, and your halls are crowded -fast, and the world goes by -succeed and give, and it helps you live -but no man can help you die - -there is room in the halls of pleasure -for a large and lordly train -but one by one we must all file on -through the narrow aisle of pain - - - -the coppenter man said a wicked word -when he hitted his thumb one day -en i know what it was, because i heard -en it's somethin' i dassent say - -he growed us a house with rooms inside it -en the rooms is full of floors -it's my papa's house, en when he buyed it -it was nothin' but just outdoors - -en they planted stones in a hole for seeds -en that's how the house began -but i guess the stones would have just growed weeds -except for the coppenter man - -en the coppenter man took a board and said -he'd skin it and make some curls -en i hung 'em onto my ears en head -en they make me look like girls - -en he squinted along one side, he did -en he squinted the other side twice -en then he told me, "you squint it, kid - -but the coppenter man said a wicked word -when he hitted 'his thumb that day -he said it out loud, too, 'cause i heard -en it's something i dassent say - -en the coppenter man said it wasn't bad -when you hitted your thumb, kerspat -en there'd be no coppenter men to be had -if it wasn't for words like that - - - -no, i never, till life and its shadows shall end -can forget the sweet sound of the bells of ostend -the day set in darkness, the wind it blew loud -and rung as it passed through each murmuring shroud -my forehead was wet with the foam of the spray -my heart sighed in secret for those far away -when slowly the morning advanced from the east -the toil and the noise of the tempest had ceased -the peal from a land i ne'er saw, seemed to say -yet the short-lived emotion was mingled with pain -i thought of those eyes i should ne'er see again -i thought of the kiss, the last kiss which i gave -and a tear of regret fell unseen on the wave -i thought of the schemes fond affection had planned -of the trees, of the towers, of my own native land -but still the sweet sounds, as they swelled to the air -seemed tidings of pleasure, though mournful to bear -and i never, till life and its shadows shall end -can forget the sweet sound of the bells of ostend - - - -with sable-draped banners and slow measured tread -the flower laden ranks pass the gates of the dead -and seeking each mound where a comrade's form rests -leave tear-bedewed garlands to bloom, on his breast -ended at last is the labor of love -once more through the gateway the saddened lines move -a wailing of anguish, a sobbing of grief -falls low on the ear of the battle-scarred chief -close crouched by the portals, a sunny-haired child -besought him in accents with grief rendered wild - -why, why, did you pass by my dear papa's grave -i know he was poor, but as kind and as true -as ever marched into the battle with you -his grave is so humble, no stone marks the spot -you may not have seen it. oh, say you did not -for my poor heart will break if you knew he was there -and thought him too lowly your offerings to share -he didn't die lowly--he poured his heart's blood -in rich crimson streams, from the top-crowning sod -of the breastworks which stood in front of the fight -and died shouting, 'onward! for god and the right -o'er all his dead comrades your bright garlands wave -but you haven't put _one_ on _my_ papa's grave -if mamma were here--but she lies by his side -her wearied heart broke when our dear papa died - -then up in his arms from the hot, dusty street -he lifted the maiden, while in through the gate -the long line repasses, and many an eye -pays fresh tribute of tears to the lone orphan's sigh -they lie close together, with just room for me -a love pure as this makes these graves hallowed ground - -the kindness you've shown little daisy to-day -but i'll pray for you here, each day while i live -i shall see papa soon and dear mamma, too -i dreamed so last night, and i know 'twill come true -and they will both bless you, i know, when i say -how you folded your arms round their dear one to-day -how you cheered her sad heart and soothed it to rest -and hushed its wild throbs on your strong, noble breast -and when the kind angels shall call _you_ to come -we'll welcome you there to our beautiful home -where death never comes his black banners to wave -and the beautiful flowers ne'er weep o'er a grave - - - -two little stockings hung side by side -close to the fireside broad and wide -loaded with toys and many a game - -there's only one little girl lives here -so he crept up close to the chimney place -and measured a sock with a sober face -just then a wee little note fell out -and fluttered low, like a bird, about - -as he pushed his specs up close to his eyes -and read the address in a child's rough plan -i have hung up for a child named clara hall - -so i thought, perhaps, you kindly would -fill up her stocking, too, to-night -and help to make her christmas bright -if you've not enough for both stockings there -please put all in clara's, i shall not care - -saint nicholas brushed a tear from his eye -and, "god bless you, darling," he said with a sigh -then softly he blew through the chimney high -a note like a bird's, as it soars on high -when down came two of the funniest mortals -that ever were seen this side earth's portals - -all a little girl wants where money is rare -then, oh, what a scene there was in that room -away went the elves, but down from the gloom -of the sooty old chimney came tumbling low -a child's whole wardrobe, from head to toe - -how santa clans laughed, as he gathered them in -and fastened each one to the sock with a pin -right to the toe he hung a blue dress -said saint nicholas, smoothing the folds of blue -and tying the hood to the stocking, too - -when all the warm clothes were fastened on -and both little socks were filled and done -then santa claus tucked a toy here and there -and hurried away to the frosty air -saying, "god pity the poor, and bless the dear child -who pities them, too, on this night so wild - -the wind caught the words and bore them on high -till they died away in the midnight sky -while saint nicholas flew through the icy air -bringing "peace and good will" with him everywhere - - - -i have a rendezvous with death -at some disputed barricade -when spring comes back with rustling shade -and apple-blossoms fill the air -i have a rendezvous with death -when spring brings back blue days and fair - -it may be he shall take my hand -and lead me into his dark land -and close my eyes and quench my breath -it may be i shall pass him still -i have a rendezvous with death -on some scarred slope of battered hill -when spring comes round again this year -and the first meadow-flowers appear - -god knows't were better to be deep -pillowed in silk and scented down -where love throbs out in blissful sleep -pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath -where hushed awakenings are dear -but i've a rendezvous with death -at midnight in some flaming town -when spring trips north again this year -and i to my pledged word am true -i shall not fail that rendezvous - - - -let us be kind -the way is long and lonely -and human hearts are asking for this blessing only -that we be kind -we cannot know the grief that men may borrow -we cannot see the souls storm-swept by sorrow -but love can shine upon the way to-day, to-morrow -let us be kind - -let us be kind -this is a wealth that has no measure -this is of heaven and earth the highest treasure -let us be kind -a tender word, a smile of love in meeting -a song of hope and victory to those retreating -a glimpse of god and brotherhood while life is fleeting -let us be kind - -let us be kind -around the world the tears of time are falling -and for the loved and lost these human hearts are calling -let us be kind -to age and youth let gracious words be spoken -upon the wheel of pain so many lives are broken -we live in vain who give no tender token -let us be kind - -let us be kind -the sunset tints will soon be in the west -too late the flowers are laid then on the quiet breast -let us be kind -and when the angel guides have sought and found us -their hands shall link the broken ties of earth that bound us -and heaven and home shall brighten all around us -let us be kind - - - -oh! listen to the water mill, through all the livelong day -as the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away -how languidly the autumn wind does stir the withered leaves -as in the fields the reapers sing, while binding up their sheaves -a solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast - -the summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth and main -the sickle nevermore will reap the yellow garnered grain -the rippling stream flows on--aye, tranquil, deep and still -but never glideth back again to busy water mill -the solemn proverb speaks to all with meaning deep and vast - -ah! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true -for golden years are fleeting by and youth is passing too -ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day -for time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away -nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast - -oh! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted by -alas! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh -love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word -thoughts conceived, but ne'er expressed, perishing unpenned, unheard -oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast - -work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and will -the streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking water mill -nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way -for all that thou canst call thine own lies in the phrase "to-day -possession, power and blooming health must all be lost at last - -oh! love thy god and fellowman, thyself consider last -for come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past -soon will this fight of life be o'er and earth recede from view -and heaven in all its glory shine, where all is pure and true -ah! then thou'lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast - - - -what makes the dog's nose always cold -i'll try to tell you, curls of gold -if you will good and quiet be -and come and stand by mamma's knee -well, years and years and years ago -how many i don't really know -there came a rain on sea and shore -its like was never seen before -or since. it fell unceasing down -till all the world began to drown -but just before it began to pour -an old, old man--his name was noah -built him an ark, that he might save -his family from a wat'ry grave -and in it also he designed -to shelter two of every kind -of beast. well, dear, when it was done -and heavy clouds obscured the sun -the noah folks to it quickly ran -and then the animals began -to gravely march along in pairs -the leopards, tigers, wolves and bears -the deer, the hippopotamuses -the rabbits, squirrels, elks, walruses -the camels, goats, cats and donkeys -the tall giraffes, the beavers, monkeys -the rats, the big rhinoceroses -the dromedaries and the horses -the sheep, and mice and kangaroos -hyenas, elephants, koodoos -and hundreds more-'twould take all day -my dear, so many names to say -and at the very, very end -of the procession, by his friend -and master, faithful dog was seen -the livelong time he'd helping been -to drive the crowd of creatures in -and now, with loud, exultant bark -he gaily sprang abroad the ark -alas! so crowded was the space -he could not in it find a place -so, patiently, he turned about -stood half way in, half way out -and those extremely heavy showers -descended through nine hundred hours -and more; and, darling, at the close -and never could it lose again -the dampness of that dreadful rain -and that is what, my curls of gold -made all the doggies' noses cold - - -chained in the market-place he stood -a man of giant frame -amid the gathering multitude -that shrunk to hear his name -all stern of look and strong of limb -his dark eye on the ground -and silently they gazed on him -as on a lion bound - -vainly, but well, that chief had fought -he was a captive now -yet pride, that fortune humbles not -was written on his brow -the scars his dark broad bosom wore -showed warrior true and brave -a prince among his tribe before -he could not be a slave - -then to his conqueror he spake -undo this necklace from my neck -and take this bracelet ring -and send me where my brother reigns -and i will fill thy hands -with store of ivory from the plains -and gold-dust from the sands - -will i unbind thy chain -that bloody hand shall never hold -the battle-spear again -a price thy nation never gave -shall yet be paid for thee -for thou shalt be the christian's slave -in lands beyond the sea - -then wept the warrior chief and bade -to shred his locks away -and one by one, each heavy braid -before the victor lay -thick were the platted locks, and long -and deftly hidden there -shone many a wedge of gold among -the dark and crispèd hair - -long kept for sorest need -take it--thou askest sums untold -and say that i am freed -take it--my wife, the long, long day -weeps by the cocoa-tree -and my young children leave their play -and ask in vain for me - -thy fetters fast and strong -and ween that by the cocoa shade -thy wife will wait thee long -strong was the agony that shook -the captive's frame to hear -and the proud meaning of his look -was changed to mortal fear - -his heart was broken--crazed his brain -at once his eye grew wild -he struggled fiercely with his chain -whispered, and wept, and smiled -yet wore not long those fatal bands -and once, at shut of day -they drew him forth upon the sands -the foul hyena's prey - - - - -he who lives the golden dream lives fourfold thereby -time may scoff and worlds may laugh, hosts assail his thought -but the visionary came ere the builders wrought -ere the tower bestrode the dome, ere the dome the arch -he, the dreamer of the dream, saw the vision march - -he who has the vision hears more than you may hear -unseen lips from unseen worlds are bent unto his ear -from the hills beyond the clouds messages are borne -drifting on the dews of dream to his heart of morn -time awaits and ages stay till he wakes and shows -glimpses of the larger life that his vision knows - -he who has the vision feels more than you may feel -joy beyond the narrow joy in whose realm we reel -for he knows the stars are glad, dawn and middleday -in the jocund tide that sweeps dark and dusk away -he who has the vision lives round and all complete -and through him alone we draw dews from combs of sweet - - - -the children kept coming one by one -till the boys were five and the girls were three -and the big brown house was alive with fun -from the basement floor to the old roof-tree -like garden flowers the little ones grew -nurtured and trained with tenderest care -warmed by love's sunshine, bathed in dew -they blossomed into beauty rare - -but one of the boys grew weary one day -and leaning his head on his mother's breast -he said, "i am tired and cannot play -let me sit awhile on your knee and rest -she cradled him close to her fond embrace -she hushed him to sleep with her sweetest song -and rapturous love still lightened his face -when his spirit had joined the heavenly throng - -then the eldest girl, with her thoughtful eyes -who stood where the "brook and the river meet -stole softly away into paradise -e'er "the river" had reached her slender feet -while the father's eyes on the graves were bent -the mother looked upward beyond the skies -our darlings were angels in earth's disguise - -the years flew by, and the children began -with longings to think of the world outside -and as each in turn became a man -the boys proudly went from the father's side -the girls were women so gentle and fair -that lovers were speedy to woo and to win -and with orange-blooms in their braided hair -their old home they left, new homes to begin - -so, one by one the children have gone -the boys were five, the girls were three -and the big brown house is gloomy and alone -with but two old folks for its company -they talk to each other about the past -as they sit together at eventide -and say, "all the children we keep at last -are the boy and girl who in childhood died - - - -between broad fields of wheat and corn -is the lowly home where i was born -the peach-tree leans against the wall -and the woodbine wanders over all -there is the shaded doorway still -but a stranger's foot has crossed the sill - -there is the barn--and, as of yore -i can smell the hay from the open door -and see the busy swallows throng -and hear the pewee's mournful song -but the stranger comes--oh! painful proof -his sheaves are piled to the heated roof - -there is the orchard--the very trees -where my childhood knew long hours of ease -and watched the shadowy moments run -till my life imbibed more shade than sun -the swing from the bough still sweeps the air -but the stranger's children are swinging there - -there bubbles the shady spring below -with its bulrush brook where the hazels grow -and watched the minnows poise and shoot -and heard the robin lave his wing -but the stranger's bucket is at the spring - -oh, ye who daily cross the sill -step lightly, for i love it still -and when you crowd the old barn eaves -then think what countless harvest sheaves -have passed within' that scented door -to gladden eyes that are no more - -deal kindly with these orchard trees -and when your children crowd your knees -their sweetest fruit they shall impart -as if old memories stirred their heart -to youthful sport still leave the swing -and in sweet reverence hold the spring - - - -well, wife, i've found the _model_ church! i worshiped there to-day -it made me think of good old times before my hair was gray -the meetin'-house was fixed up more than they were years ago -but then i felt, when i went in, it wasn't built for show - -the sexton didn't seat me away back by the door -he knew that i was old and deaf, as well as old and poor -he must have been a christian, for he led me boldly through -the long aisle of that crowded church to find a pleasant pew - -i wish you'd heard that singin'; it had the old-time ring -the preacher said, with trumpet voice: "let all the people sing -the tune was "coronation," and the music upward rolled -till i thought i heard the angels striking all their harps of gold - -my deafness seemed to melt away; my spirit caught the fire -i joined my feeble, trembling voice with that melodious choir -and sang as in my youthful days: "let angels prostrate fall -bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him lord of all - -i tell you, wife, it did me good to sing that hymn once more -i felt like some wrecked mariner who gets a glimpse of shore -i almost wanted to lay down this weatherbeaten form -and anchor in that blessed port forever from the storm - -i know it wasn't written; i know it wasn't read -he hadn't time to read it, for the lightnin' of his eye -went flashin' long from pew to pew, nor passed a sinner by - -the sermon wasn't flowery; 'twas simple gospel truth -it fitted poor old men like me; it fitted hopeful youth - -the preacher made sin hideous in gentiles and in jews -he shot the golden sentences down in the finest pews -and--though i can't see very well--i saw the falling tear -that told me hell was some ways off, and heaven very near - -how swift the golden moments fled within that holy place -how brightly beamed the light of heaven from every happy face -again i longed for that sweet time when friend shall meet with friend - -i hope to meet that minister--that congregation, too -in that dear home beyond the stars that shine from heaven's blue -i doubt not i'll remember, beyond life's evenin' gray -the happy hour of worship in that model church today - -dear wife, the fight will soon be fought; the vict'ry soon be won -the shinin' goal is just ahead; the race is nearly run -o'er the river we are nearin', they are throngin' to the shore -to shout our safe arrival where the weary weep no more - - - -the gret big church wuz crowded full uv broadcloth an' of silk -an' satins rich as cream thet grows on our ol' brindle's milk -shined boots, biled shirts, stiff dickeys, an' stove-pipe hats were there -an' doodes 'ith trouserloons so tight they couldn't kneel down in prayer - -the elder in his poolpit high, said, as he slowly riz -an' as we hev no substitoot, as brother moore ain't here -will some 'un in the congregation be so kind's to volunteer - -an' then a red-nosed, blear-eyed tramp, of low-toned, rowdy style -give an interductory hiccup, an' then swaggered up the aisle -then thro' that holy atmosphere there crep' a sense er sin -an' thro' thet air of sanctity the odor uv ol' gin - -then deacon purington he yelled, his teeth all set on edge -the tramp didn' hear a word he said, but slouched 'ith stumblin' feet -an' stalked an' swaggered up the steps, an' gained the organ seat - -he then went pawin' thro' the keys, an' soon there rose a strain -thet seemed to jest bulge out the heart, an' 'lectrify the brain -an' then he slapped down on the thing 'ith hands an' head an' knees -he slam-dashed his hull body down kerflop upon the keys - -the organ roared, the music flood went sweepin' high an' dry -it swelled into the rafters, an' bulged out into the sky -the ol' church shook and staggered, an' seemed to reel an' sway -an' the elder shouted "glory!" an' i yelled out "hooray - -an' then he tried a tender strain that melted in our ears -thet brought up blessed memories and drenched 'em down 'ith tears -an' we dreamed uv ol' time kitchens, 'ith tabby on the mat -uv home an' luv an' baby days, an' mother, an' all that - -an' then he struck a streak uv hope--a song from souls forgiven -thet burst from prison bars uv sin, an' stormed the gates uv heaven -the morning stars together sung--no soul wuz left alone -we felt the universe wuz safe, an' god was on his throne - -an' then a wail of deep despair an' darkness come again -an' long, black crape hung on the doors uv all the homes uv men -no luv, no light, no joy, no hope, no songs of glad delight -an' then--the tramp, he swaggered down an' reeled out into the night - -but we knew he'd tol' his story, tho' he never spoke a word -an' it was the saddest story thet our ears had ever heard -he had tol' his own life history, an' no eye was dry thet day -w'en the elder rose an' simply said: "my brethren, let up pray - - - -there lay upon the ocean's shore -what once a tortoise served to cover -a year and more, with rush and roar -the surf had rolled it over -had played with it, and flung it by -as wind and weather might decide it -then tossed it high where sand-drifts dry -cheap burial might provide it -it rested there to bleach or tan -the rains had soaked, the suns had burned it -with many a ban the fisherman -had stumbled o'er and spurned it -and there the fisher-girl would stay -conjecturing with her brother -how in their play the poor estray -might serve some use or other - -so there it lay, through wet and dry -as empty as the last new sonnet -till by and by came mercury -and, having mused upon it -in shape, material, and dimension -give it but strings, and, lo, it sings -a wonderful invention - -so said, so done; the chords he strained -and, as his fingers o'er them hovered -the shell disdained a soul had gained -the lyre had been discovered -o empty world that round us lies -dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken -brought we but eyes like mercury's -in thee what songs should waken - - - - -the old mayor climbed the belfry tower -the ringers rang by two, by three -good ringers, pull your best," quoth he -play all your changes, all your swells -play uppe 'the brides of enderby - -men say it was a stolen tyde -the lord that sent it, he knows all -but in myne ears doth still abide -the message that the bells let fall -and there was naught of strange, beside -the flight of mews ans peewits pied -by millions crouched on the old sea-wall - -i sat and spun within the doore -my thread break off, i raised myne eyes -the level sun, like ruddy ore -lay sinking in the barren skies -and dark against day's golden death -she moved where lindis wandereth -my sonne's faire wife, elizabeth - -ere the early dews were falling -farre away i heard her song -where the reedy lindis floweth -floweth, floweth -from the meads where melick groweth -faintly came her milking song - -leave your meadow grasses mellow -mellow, mellow -quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow -come uppe whitefoot, come uppe lightfoot -quit the stalks of parsley hollow -hollow, hollow -come uppe jetty, rise and follow -from the clovers lift your head -come uppe whitefoot, come uppe lightfoot -come uppe jetty, rise and follow -jetty, to the milking shed - -if it be long, ay, long ago -when i beginne to think howe long -againe i hear the lindis flow -swift as an arrowe, sharp and strong -and all the aire, it seemeth mee -bin full of floating bells (sayeth she -that ring the tune of enderby - -alle fresh the level pasture lay -and not a shadowe mote be seene -save where full fyve good miles away -the steeple towered from out the greene -and lo! the great bell farre and wide -was heard in all the country side -that saturday at eventide - -the swanherds where there sedges are -moved on in sunset's golden breath -the shepherde lads i heard affare -and my sonne's wife, elizabeth -till floating o'er the grassy sea -came down that kindly message free -the "brides of mavis enderby - -then some looked uppe into the sky -and all along where lindis flows -to where the goodly vessels lie -and where the lordly steeple shows -they sayde, "and why should this thing be -what danger lowers by land or sea -they ring the tune of enderby - -of pyrate galleys warping downe -for shippes ashore beyond the scorpe -they have not spared to wake the towne -but while the west bin red to see -and storms be none, and pyrates flee -why ring 'the brides of enderby - -i looked without, and lo! my sonne -came riding down with might and main -he raised a shout as he drew on -till all the welkin rang again -than my sonne's wife, elizabeth - -the rising tide comes on apace -and boats adrift in yonder towne -go sailing uppe the market-place -he shook as one that looks on death - -with her two bairns i marked her long -and ere yon bells beganne to play -afar i heard her milking song -he looked across the grassy lea -to right, to left, "ho, enderby -they rang "the brides of enderby - -with that he cried and beat his breast -for, lo! along the river's bed -a mighty eygre reared his crest -and uppe the lindis raging sped -it swept with thunderous noises loud -shaped like a curling snow-white cloud -or like a demon in a shroud - -and rearing lindis backward pressed -shook all her trembling bankes amaine -then madly at the eygre's breast -flung uppe her weltering walls again -then bankes came downe with ruin and rout -then beaten foam flew round about -then all the mighty floods were out - -so farre, so fast the eygre drave -the heart had hardly time to beat -before a shallow seething wave -sobbed in the grasses at oure feet -the feet had hardly time to flee -before it brake against the knee -and all the world was in the sea - -upon the roofe we sat that night -the noise of bells went sweeping by -i marked the lofty beacon light -stream from the church tower, red and high -a lurid mark and dread to see -and awesome bells they were to mee -that in the dark rang "enderby - -they rang the sailor lads to guide -from roofe to roofe who fearless rowed -and i--my sonne was at my side -and yet the ruddy beacon glowed -and yet he moaned beneath his breath -oh, lost! my love, elizabeth - -and didst thou visit him no more -thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare -the waters laid thee at his doore -ere yet the early dawn was clear -thy pretty bairns in fast embrace -the lifted sun shone on thy face -downe drifted to thy dwelling-place - -that flow strewed wrecks about the grass -that ebbe swept out the flocks to sea -a fatal ebbe and flow, alas -to manye more than myne and me -but each will mourn his own (she saith -and sweeter woman ne'er drew breath -than my sonne's wife, elizabeth - -i shall never hear her more -by the reedy lindis shore -ere the early dews be falling -i shall never hear her song -where the sunny lindis floweth -goeth, floweth -from the meads where melick groweth -when the water winding down -onward floweth to the town - -i shall never see her more -where the reeds and rushes quiver -shiver, quiver -stand beside the sobbing river -sobbing, throbbing, in its falling -to the sandy lonesome shore -i shall never hear her calling -mellow, mellow -quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow -come uppe whitefoot, come uppe lightfoot -quit your pipes of parsley hollow -hollow, hollow -come uppe lightfoot, rise and follow -lightfoot, whitefoot -from your clovers lift the head -come uppe jetty, follow, follow -jetty, to the milking-shed - - - -o month of fairer, rarer days -than summer's best have been -when skies at noon are burnished blue -and winds at evening keen -when tangled, tardy-blooming things -from wild waste places peer -and drooping golden grain-heads tell -that harvest-time is near - -though autumn tints amid the green -are gleaming, here and there -and spicy autumn odors float -like incense on the air -and sounds we mark as autumn's own -her nearing steps betray -in gracious mood she seems to stand -and bid the summer stay - -though 'neath the trees, with fallen leaves -the sward be lightly strown -and nests deserted tell the tale -of summer bird-folk flown -though white with frost the lowlands lie -when lifts the morning haze -still there's a charm in every hour -of sweet september days - - - -who comes dancing over the snow -his soft little feet all bare and rosy -open the door, though the wild wind blow -take the child in and make him cozy -take him in and hold him dear -here is the wonderful glad new year - - - - -if you can dress to make yourself attractive -yet not make puffs and curls your chief delight -if you can swim and row, be strong and active -but of the gentler graces lose not sight -if you can dance without a craze for dancing -play without giving play too strong a hold -enjoy the love of friends without romancing -care for the weak, the friendless and the old - -if you can master french and greek and latin -and not acquire, as well, a priggish mien -if you can feel the touch of silk and satin -without despising calico and jean -if you can ply a saw and use a hammer -can do a man's work when the need occurs -can sing when asked, without excuse or stammer -can rise above unfriendly snubs and slurs - -if you can make good bread as well as fudges -can sew with skill and have an eye for dust -if you can be a friend and hold no grudges -a girl whom all will love because they must - -if sometime you should meet and love another -and make a home with faith and peace enshrined -and you its soul--a loyal wife and mother -you'll work out pretty nearly to my mind -the plan that's been developed through the ages -and win the best that life can have in store -you'll be, my girl, the model for the sages -a woman whom the world will bow before - - - -little lass of plymouth,--gentle, shy, and sweet -primly, trimly tripping down the queer old street -homespun frock and apron, clumsy buckled shoe -skirts that reach your ankles, just as mother's do -bonnet closely clinging over braid and curl -modest little maiden,--plymouth's pilgrim girl - -little lad of plymouth, stanchly trudging by -strong your frame, and sturdy; kind and keen your eye -clad in belted doublet, buckles at your knee -every garment fashioned as a man's might be -shoulder-cloak and breeches, hat with bell-shaped crown -manly little pilgrim,--boy of plymouth town - -boy and girl of plymouth, brave and blithe, and true -finer task than yours was, children never knew -sharing toil and hardship in the strange, new land -hope, and help, and promise of the weary band -grave the life around you, scant its meed of joy -yours to make it brighter,--pilgrim girl and boy - - - -thank god for the might of it -the ardor, the urge, the delight of it -work that springs from the heart's desire -setting the brain and the soul on fire -oh, what is so good as the heat of it -and what is so glad as the beat of it -and what is so kind as the stern command -challenging brain and heart and hand - -thank god for the pride of it -for the beautiful, conquering tide of it -sweeping the life in its furious flood -thrilling the arteries, cleansing the blood -mastering stupor and dull despair -moving the dreamer to do and dare -oh, what is so good as the urge of it -and what is so glad as the surge of it -and what is so strong as the summons deep -rousing the torpid soul from sleep - -thank god for the pace of it -for the terrible, swift, keen race of it -fiery steeds in full control -nostrils a-quiver to reach the goal -work, the power that drives behind -guiding the purposes, taming the mind -holding the runaway wishes back -reining the will to one steady track -speeding the energies, faster, faster -triumphing ever over disaster -oh, what is so good as the pain of it -and what is so great as the gain of it -and what is so kind as the cruel goad -forcing us on through the rugged road - -thank god for the swing of it -for the clamoring, hammering ring of it -passion of labor daily hurled -on the mighty anvils of the world -oh, what is so fierce as the flame of it -and what is so huge as the aim of it -thundering on through dearth and doubt -calling the plan of the maker out -work, the titan; work, the friend -shaping the earth to a glorious end -draining the swamps and blasting hills -doing whatever the spirit wills -rending a continent apart -to answer the dream of the master heart -thank god for a world where none may shirk -thank god for the splendor of work - - - -ask for - -you say i have asked for the costliest thing -ever made by the hand above -a woman's heart and a woman's life -and a woman's wonderful love - -that i have written your duty out -and, man-like, have questioned free -you demand that i stand at the bar of your soul -while you in turn question me - -and when i ask you to be my wife -the head of my house and home -whose path i would scatter with sunshine through life -thy shield when sorrow shall come - -you reply with disdain and a curl of the lip -and point to my coat's missing button -and haughtily ask if i want a _cook -to serve up my _beef_ and my _mutton - -but only a plain, earnest man -whose feet often shun the hard path they should tread -often shrink from the gulf they should span - -from the cheek so full, so fair -was ever reflected there - -true, the rose will fade, and the leaves will fall -and the autumn of life will come -but the heart that i give thee will be true as in may -should i make it thy shelter, thy home - -thou requir'st "all things that are good and true -all things that a man should be -ah! lady, my _truth_, in return, doubt not -for the rest, i leave it to thee - - - -i cannot vouch my tale is true -nor say, indeed, 'tis wholly new -but true or false, or new or old -i think you'll find it fairly told -a frenchman, who had ne'er before -set foot upon a foreign shore -weary of home, resolved to go -and see what holland had to show -he didn't know a word of dutch -but that could hardly grieve him much -he thought, as frenchmen always do -that all the world could "parley-voo -at length our eager tourist stands -within the famous netherlands -and, strolling gaily here and there -in search of something rich or rare -a lordly mansion greets his eyes -and, bowing to the man who sate -in livery at the garden gate -whose very charming grounds are these -and, pardon me, be pleased to tell -who in this splendid house may dwell -to which, in dutch, the puzzled man -replied what seemed like "nick van stann - -is equally superb and chaste -so fine a house, upon my word -not even paris can afford -with statues, too, in every niche -of course monsieur van stann is rich -and lives, i warrant, like a king -ah! wealth mast be a charming thing -in amsterdam the frenchman meets -a thousand wonders in the streets -but most he marvels to behold -a lady dressed in silk and gold -gazing with rapture on the dame -he begs to know the lady's name -and hears, to raise his wonders more -the very words he heard before -milord has got a charming wife -must be a very happy man - -next day our tourist chanced to pop -his head within a lottery shop -and there he saw, with staring eyes -the drawing of the mammoth prize -i wish i had as much at home -i'd like to know, as i'm a sinner -what lucky fellow is the winner -conceive our traveler's amaze -to hear again the hackneyed phrase -faith! he's the luckiest of men -you may be sure we don't advance -so rapidly as that in france -a house, the finest in the land -a lovely garden, nicely planned -a perfect angel of a wife -and gold enough to last a life -there never yet was mortal man -so blest--as monsieur nick van stann - -next day the frenchman chanced to meet -a pompous funeral in the street -and, asking one who stood close by -what nobleman had pleased to die -was stunned to hear the old reply -the frenchman sighed and shook his head -with such a house, and such a wife -it must be hard to part with life -and then, to lose that mammoth prize -he wins, and, pop,--the winner dies -ah, well! his blessings came so fast -i greatly feared they could not last -and thus, we see, the sword of fate -cuts down alike the small and great - - - - -marching down to armageddon -brothers, stout and strong -let us cheer the way we tread on -with a soldier's song -faint we by the weary road -or fall we in the rout -dirge or pæan, death or triumph -let the song ring out - -we are they who scorn the scorners -love the lovers--hate -none within the world's four corners -all must share one fate -we are they whose common banner -bears no badge nor sign -save the light which dyes it white -the hope that makes it shine - -we are they whose bugle rings -that all the wars may cease -we are they will pay the kings -their cruel price for peace -we are they whose steadfast watchword -is what christ did teach -and heaven, then, for each - -we are they who will not falter -many swords or few -till we make this earth the altar -of a worship new -we are they who will not take -from palace, priest or code -a meaner law than "brotherhood -a lower lord than god - -marching down to armageddon -brothers, stout and strong -ask not why the way we tread on -is so rough and long -god will tell us when our spirits -grow to grasp his plan -let us do our part to-day -and help him, helping man - -shall we even curse the madness -which for "ends of state -dooms us to the long, long sadness -of this human hate -let us slay in perfect pity -those that must not live -vanquish, and forgive our foes -or fall--and still forgive - -we are those whose unpaid legions -in free ranks arrayed -massacred in many regions -never once were stayed -we are they whose torn battalions -trained to bleed, not fly -make our agonies a triumph -conquer, while we die - -therefore, down to armageddon -brothers, bold and strong -cheer the glorious way we tread on -with this soldier song -let the armies of the old flags -march in silent dread -death and life are one to us -who fight for quick and dead - - - -it was a sergeant old and gray -well singed and bronzed from siege and pillage -went tramping in an army's wake -along the turnpike of the village - -for days and nights the winding host -had through the little place been marching -and ever loud the rustics cheered -till every throat was hoarse and parching - -the squire and farmer, maid and dame -all took the sight's electric stirring -and hats were waved and staves were sung -and kerchiefs white were countless whirring - -they only saw a gallant show -of heroes stalwart under banners -and, in the fierce heroic glow - -the sergeant heard the shrill hurrahs -where he behind in step was keeping -but, glancing down beside the road -he saw a little maid sit weeping - -a moment pausing to regard her -and then she only cried the harder - -the sturdy trooper straight repeated -that you, in tears, apart are seated - -and that's a sight, my baby beauty -to quicken silence into song -and glorify the soldier's duty - -the little maid gave soft replying -all say 'hurrah' while i am crying - -how many little sisters' brothers -are going all away to fight -and may be killed, as well as others - -his brawny hand her curls caressing -to find that war's not all a blessing - -and "bless thee!" once again he cried -then cleared his throat and looked indignant -and marched away with wrinkled brow -to stop the struggling tear benignant - -and still the ringing shouts went up -from doorway, thatch, and fields of tillage -the pall behind the standard seen -by one alone of all the village - -the oak and cedar bend and writhe -when roars the wind through gap and braken -but 'tis the tenderest reed of all -that trembles first when earth is shaken - - - -once in persia reigned a king -who upon his signet ring -graved a maxim true and wise -which, if held before his eyes -gave him counsel at a glance -fit for every change and chance -solemn words; and these are they - -trains of camels through the sand -brought him gems from samarcand -fleets of galleys through the seas -brought him pearls to match with these -but he counted not his gain -treasurer of the mine and main - -in the revels of his court -at the zenith of the sport -when the palms of all his guests -burned with clapping at his jests -he, amid his figs and wine -cried: "o loving friends of mine -pleasures come, but not to stay -even this shall pass away - -fighting on a furious field -once a javelin pierced his shield -soldiers with loud lament -bore him bleeding to his tent -groaning with his tortured side -even this shall pass away - -struck with palsy, sere and old -waiting at the gates of gold -spake he with his dying breath -then, in answer to the king -fell a sunbeam on his ring -showing by a heavenly ray - - - -you're going to leave the homestead, john -you're twenty-one to-day -and very sorry am i, john -to see you go away -you've labored late and early, john -and done the best you could -i ain't going to stop you, john -i wouldn't if i could - -yet something of your feelings, john -i s'pose i'd ought to know -though many a day has passed away -when hope was high within me, john -and life lay all before -that i, with strong and measured stroke - -the years they come and go, my boy -the years they come and go -and raven locks and tresses brown -grow white as driven snow -my life has known its sorrows, john -its trials and troubles sore -yet god withal has blessed me, john - -but one thing let me tell you, john -before you make a start -there's more in being honest, john -twice o'er than being smart -though rogues may seem to flourish, john -and sterling worth to fail -oh! keep in view the good and true - -don't think too much of money, john -and dig and delve and plan -and rake and scrape in every shape -to hoard up all you can -though fools may count their riches, john -in dollars and in cents -the best of wealth is youth and health -and good sound common sense - -and don't be mean and stingy, john -but lay a little by -of what you earn; you soon will learn -how fast 'twill multiply -so when old age comes creeping on -you'll have a goodly store -of wealth to furnish all your needs -and maybe something more - -there's shorter cuts to fortune, john -we see them every day -but those who save their self-respect -climb up the good old way -and makes the vulgar stare -and those we deem the richest, john -have oft the least to spare - -don't meddle with your neighbors, john -their sorrows or their cares -you'll find enough to do, my boy -to mind your own affairs -the world is full of idle tongues -you can afford to shirk -there's lots of people ready, john -to do such dirty work - -and if amid the race for fame -you win a shining prize -the humbler work of honest men -you never should despise -for each one has his mission, john -in life's unchanging plan -though lowly be his station, john -he is no less a man - -be good, be pure, be noble, john -be honest, brave, be true -and do to others as you would -that they should do to you -and put your trust in god, my boy -though fiery darts be hurled -then you can smile at satan's rage -and face a frowning world - -good-by! may heaven guard and bless -your footsteps day by day -the old house will be lonesome, john -when you are gone away -the cricket's song upon the hearth -will have a sadder tone -the old familiar spots will be -so lonely when you're gone - - -king alphonso of asturias had imprisoned the count saldana, about the -time of the birth of the count's son bernardo. in an effort to secure -his father's release, bernardo, when old enough, took up arms. finally -the king offered bernardo possession of his father's person, in exchange -for the castle of carpio and all the king's subjects there imprisoned -the cruel trick played by the king on bernardo is here described - -the warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire -and sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire -i pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!--oh break my father's chain -mount thy good horse; and thou and i will meet him on his way - -then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed -and urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed -and lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band -with one that midst them stately rode, as leader in the land -the father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see - -his dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue came and -he reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dismounting, bent -a lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took -what was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook -that hand was cold,--a frozen thing,--it dropped from his like lead -he looked up to the face above,--the face was of the dead -a plume waved o'er the noble brow,--the brow was fixed and white -he met, at last, his father's eyes, but in them was no sight - -up from the ground he sprang and gazed, but who could paint that gaze -they hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze -they might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood -for the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood -talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men - -he thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown -he flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down -then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow -my king is false, my hope betrayed, my father--oh, the worth -the glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth -i thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet -i would that there our kindred blood on spain's free soil had met -thou wouldst have known my spirit then;--for thee my fields were won -and thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son - -then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein -amidst the pale and 'wildered looks of all the courtier train -and, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led -and sternly set them face to face, the king before the dead -be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this -the voice, the glance, the heart i sought--give answer, where are they -if thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay -into these glassy eyes put light; be still! keep down thine ire -bid these white lips a blessing speak, this earth is not my sire -give me back him for whom i strove, for whom my blood was shed -thou canst not?--and a king!--his dust be mountains on thy head - -he loosed the steed--his slack hand fell; upon the silent face -he cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place -his hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain -his banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of spain - - - -go thou thy way, and i go mine -apart--but not afar -only a thin veil hangs between -the pathways where we are -and god keep watch 'tween thee and me -this is my prayer -he looks thy way--he looketh mine -and keeps us near - -i know not where thy road may lie -nor which way mine will be -if thine will lead through parching sands -and mine beside the sea -yet god keeps watch 'tween thee and me -so never fear -he holds thy hand--he claspeth mine -and keeps us near - -should wealth and fame perchance be thine -and my lot lowly be -or you be sad and sorrowful -and glory be for me -yet god keep watch 'tween thee and me -both are his care -one arm round me and one round thee -will keep us near - -i sigh sometimes to see thy face -but since this may not be -i leave thee to the love of him -who cares for thee and me -this comforts--dear -one wing o'er thee--and one o'er me -so we are near - -and though our paths be separate -and thy way be not mine -yet coming to the mercy seat -my soul shall meet with thine -and "god keep watch 'tween thee and me -i'll whisper there -he blesses me--he blesses thee -and we are near - - -o thou eternal one! whose presence bright -all space doth occupy, all motion guide -unchanged through time's all-devastating flight -thou only god--there is no god beside -being above all beings! mighty one -whom none can comprehend and none explore -who fill'st existence with thyself alone -embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er -being whom we call god, and know no more - -in its sublime research, philosophy -may measure out the ocean-deep--may count -the sands or the sun's rays--but, god! for thee -there is no weight nor measure; none can mount -up to thy mysteries:* reason's brightest spark -though kindled by thy light, in vain would try -to trace thy counsels, infinite and dark -and thought is lost ere thought can soar so high -even like past moments in eternity - -thou from primeval nothingness didst call -first chaos, then existence--lord! in thee -eternity had its foundation; all -sprung forth from thee--of light, joy, harmony -sole origin--all life, all beauty thine -thy word created all, and doth create -thy splendor fills all space with rays divine -thou art and wert and shalt be! glorious! great -light-giving, life-sustaining potentate - -thy chains the unmeasured universe surround -upheld by thee, by thee inspired with breath -thou the beginning with the end hast bound -and beautifully mingled life and death -as sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze -so suns are born, so worlds spring forth from thee -and as the spangles in the sunny rays -shine round the silver snow, the pageantry -of heaven's bright army glitters in thy praise - -a million torches, lighted by thy hand -wander unwearied through the blue abyss -they own thy power, accomplish thy command -all gay with life, all eloquent with bliss -what shall we call them? piles of crystal light -a glorious company of golden streams -lamps of celestial ether burning bright -suns lighting systems with their joyous beams -but thou to these art as the noon to night - -yes! as a drop of water in the sea -all this magnificence in thee is lost -what are ten thousand worlds compared to thee -and what am i then?--heaven's unnumbered host -though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed -in all the glory of sublimest thought -is but an atom in the balance, weighed -against thy greatness--is a cipher brought -against infinity! what am i then? naught - -naught! but the effluence of thy light divine -pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too -yes! in my spirit doth thy spirit shine -as shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew -naught! but i live, and on hope's pinions fly -eager toward thy presence; for in thee -i live, and breathe, and dwell; aspiring high -even to the throne of thy divinity -i am, o god! and surely thou must be - -thou art!--directing, guiding all--thou art -direct my understanding then to thee -control my spirit, guide my wandering heart -though but an atom midst immensity -still i am something, fashioned by thy hand -i hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth -on the last verge of mortal being stand -close to the realm where angels have their birth -just on the boundaries of the spirit-land - -the chain of being is complete in me -in me is matter's last gradation lost -and the next step is spirit--deity -i can command the lightning, and am dust -a monarch and a slave--a worm, a god -whence came i here, and how? so marvelously -constructed and conceived? unknown! this clod -lives surely through some higher energy -for from itself alone it could not be - -creator, yes! thy wisdom and thy word -created me! thou source of life and good -thou spirit of my spirit, and my lord -thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitude -filled me with an immortal soul, to spring -over the abyss of death; and bade it wear -the garments of eternal day, and wing -its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere -even to its source--to thee--its author there - -o thoughts ineffable! o visions blest -though worthless our conceptions all of thee -yet shall thy shadowed image fill our breast -and waft its homage to thy deity -god! thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar -thus seek thy presence--being wise and good -midst thy vast works admire, obey, adore -and when the tongue is eloquent no more -the soul shall speak in tears of gratitude - - - -the boy stood on the burning deck -whence all but him had fled -the flame that lit the battle's wreck -shone round him o'er the dead - -yet beautiful and bright he stood -as born to rule the storm -a creature of heroic blood -a proud, though childlike form - -the flames roll'd on--he would not go -without his father's word -that father, faint in death below -his voice no longer heard - -he called aloud: "say, father, say -if yet my task is done -he knew not that the chieftain lay -unconscious of his son - -and but the booming shots replied -and fast the flames roll'd on - -upon his brow he felt their breath -and in his waving hair -and looked from that lone post of death -in still, yet brave despair - -and shouted but once more aloud -while o'er him fast, through sail and shroud -the wreathing fires made way - -they wrapt the ship in splendor wild -they caught the flag on high -and streamed above the gallant child -like banners in the sky - -there came a burst of thunder sound -the boy--oh! where was he -ask of the winds that far around -with fragments strewed the sea - -with mast, and helm, and pennon fair -that well had borne their part -but the noblest thing that perished there -was that young, faithful heart - - - -we were not many,--we who stood -before the iron sleet that day -yet many a gallant spirit would -give half his years if he but could -have been with us at monterey - -now here, now there, the shot it hailed -in deadly drifts of fiery spray -yet not a single soldier quailed -when wounded comrades round them wailed -their dying shout at monterey - -and on, still on our column kept -through walls of flame, its withering way -where fell the dead, the living stept -still charging on the guns which swept -the slippery streets of monterey - -the foe himself recoiled aghast -when, striking where he strongest lay -we swooped his flanking batteries past -and braving full their murderous blast -stormed home the towers of monterey - -our banners on those turrets wave -and there our evening bugles play -where orange boughs above their grave -keep green the memory of the brave -who fought and fell at monterey - -we are not many, we who pressed -beside the brave who fell that day -but who of us has not confessed -he'd rather share their warrior rest -than not have been at monterey - - - -if you can take your dreams into the classroom -and always make them part of each day's work -if you can face the countless petty problems -nor turn from them nor ever try to shirk -if you can live so that the child you work with -deep in his heart knows you to be a man -if you can take "i can't" from out his language -and put in place a vigorous "i can - -if you can take love with you to the classroom -and yet on firmness never shut the door -if you can teach a child the love of nature -so that he helps himself to all her store -if you can teach him life is what we make it -that he himself can be his only bar -if you can tell him something of the heavens -or something of the wonder of a star - -if you, with simple bits of truth and honor -his better self occasionally reach -and yet not overdo nor have him dub you -as one who is inclined to ever preach -if you impart to him a bit of liking -for all the wondrous things we find in print -yet have him understand that to be happy -play, exercise, fresh air he must not stint - -if you can give of all the best that's in you -and in the giving always happy be -if you can find the good that's hidden somewhere -deep in the heart of every child you see -if you can do these things and all the others -that teachers everywhere do every day -you're in the work that you were surely meant for -take hold of it! know it's your place and stay - - - -there were ninety and nine -of a flock, sleek and fine -in a sheltering cote in the vale -but a lamb was away -on the mountain astray -unprotected within the safe pale - -then the sleet and the rain -on the mountain and plain -and the wind fiercely blowing a gale -and the night's growing dark -and the wolf's hungry bark -stir the soul of the shepherd so hale - -and he says, "hireling, go -for a lamb's in the snow -and exposed to the wild hungry beast -nor to rest weary feet -nor to sit at a bounteous feast - -then the hireling replied -all your flock save this one little sheep -are the ninety and nine -all so safe and so fine -not enough for the shepherd to keep - -then the shepherd replied -presses near, very near, to my heart -not its value in pay -makes me urge in this way -but the longings and achings of heart - -o good shepherd, i pray -for i shudder to go in the dark -on the mountain so high -and its precipice nigh - -then the shepherd said, "no -surely some one must go -who can rescue my lamb from the cold -from the wolf's hungry maw -and the lion's fierce paw -and restore it again to the fold - -then the shepherd goes out -with his cloak girt about -and his rod and his staff in his hand -what cares he for the cold -if his sheep to the fold -he can bring from the dark mountain land - -you can hear his clear voice -as the mountains rejoice -up the hillside so steep -into caverns so deep - -now he hears its weak "baa -and he answers it, "ah -sheepy sheep, sheepy sheep, sheepy sheep -then its answering bleat -hurries on his glad feet -and his arms gather up his lost sheep - -wet and cold on his breast -the lost lamb found its rest -as he bore it adown to the fold -and the ninety and nine -bleat for joy down the line -that it's safe from the wolf and the cold - -then he said to his friends -for the steeps and the deeps i have crossed -for the pelting of sleet -and my sore, weary feet -for i've found the dear lamb that was lost - -let the hirelings upbraid -for the nights that he stayed -on the mountains so rugged and high -surely never a jeer -from my lips shall one hear - -while the eons shall roll -o'er my glad ransomed soul -i will praise the good shepherd above -for a place on his breast -for its comfort and rest -for his wonderful, wonderful love - - - -if you have a friend worth loving -love him. yes, and let him know -that you love him ere life's evening -tinge his brow with sunset glow -why should good words ne'er be said -of a friend--till he is dead - -if you hear a song that thrills you -sung by any child of song -praise it. do not let the singer -wait deserved praises long -why should one that thrills your heart -lack that joy it may impart - -if you hear a prayer that moves you -by its humble pleading tone -join it. do not let the seeker -bow before his god alone -why should not your brother share -the strength of "two or three" in prayer - -if you see the hot tears falling -from a loving brother's eyes -share them, and by sharing -own your kinship with the skies -why should anyone be glad -when his brother's heart is sad - -if a silver laugh goes rippling -through the sunshine on his face -share it. 'tis the wise man's saying -for both grief and joy a place -there's health and goodness in the mirth -in which an honest laugh has birth - -if your work is made more easy -by a friendly helping hand -say so. speak out brave and truly -ere the darkness veil the land -should a brother workman dear -falter for a word of cheer - -scatter thus your seed of kindness -all enriching as you go -leave them, trust the harvest-giver -he will make each seed to grow -so, until its happy end -your life shall never lack a friend - - -you sail and you seek for the fortunate isles -the old greek isles of the yellow bird's song -then steer right on through the watery miles -straight on, straight on, and you can't go wrong -nay, not to the left, nay, not to the right -but on, straight on, and the isles are in sight -the fortunate isles, where the yellow birds sing -and life lies girt with a golden ring - -these fortunate isles, they are not far -they lie within reach of the lowliest door -you can see them gleam by the twilight star -you can hear them sing by the moon's white shore -nay, never look back! those leveled gravestones -they were landing steps; they were steps unto thrones -of glory for souls that have sailed before -and have set white feet on the fortunate shore - -and what are the names of the fortunate isles -why, duty and love and a large content -lo! there are the isles of the watery miles -that god let down from the firmament -lo! duty and love, and a true man's trust -your forehead to god and your feet in the dust -lo! duty and love, and a sweet babe's smiles -and there, o friend, are the fortunate isles - - - -a foolish little maiden bought a foolish little bonnet -with a ribbon, and a feather, and a bit of lace upon it -and that the other maidens of the little town might know it -she thought she'd go to meeting the next sunday just to show it - -but though the little bonnet was scarce larger than a dime -the getting of it settled proved to be a work of time -so when 'twas fairly tied, all the bells had stopped their ringing -and when she came to meeting, sure enough the folks were singing - -so this foolish little maiden stood and waited at the door -and she shook her ruffles out behind and smoothed them down before - -this made the little maiden feel so very, very cross -that she gave her little mouth a twist, her little head a toss -for she thought the very hymn they sang was all about her bonnet -with the ribbon, and the feather, and the bit of lace upon it - -and she would not wait to listen to the sermon or the prayer -but pattered down the silent street, and hurried up the stair -till she reached her little bureau, and in a band-box on it -had hidden, safe from critics' eyes, her foolish little bonnet - -which proves, my little maidens, that each of you will find -in every sabbath service but an echo of your mind -and the silly little head, that's filled with silly little airs -will never get a blessing from sermon or from prayers - - - -work thou for pleasure; paint or sing or carve -the thing thou lovest, though the body starve -who works for glory misses oft the goal -who works for money coins his very soul -work for work's sake then, and it well may be -that these things shall be added unto thee - - - -i was strolling one day down the lawther arcade -that place for children's toys -where you can purchase a dolly or spade -for your good little girls and boys -and as i passed a certain stall, said a wee little voice to me -o, i am a colonel in a little cocked hat, and i ride on a tin gee gee -o, i am a colonel in a little cocked hat, and i ride on a tin gee gee - -then i looked and a little tin soldier i saw -in his little cocked hat so fine -he'd a little tin sword that shone in the light -as he led a glittering line of tin hussars -whose sabers flashed in a manner à la military -and that little tin soldier he rode at their head -so proud on his tin gee gee - -then that little tin soldier he sobbed and he sighed -so i patted his little tin head -and this is what he said -i've been on this stall a very long time -and i'm marked twenty-nine, as you see -whilst just on the shelf above my head -there's a fellow marked sixty-three - -now he hasn't got a sword and he hasn't got a horse -and i'm quite as good as he -so why mark me at twenty-nine -and him at sixty-three -there's a pretty little dolly girl over there -and i'm madly in love with she -but now that i'm only marked twenty-nine -she turns up her nose at me -she turns up her little wax nose at me -and carries on with sixty-three - -and, oh, she's dressed in a beautiful dress -it's a dress i do admire -she has pearly blue eyes that open and shut -when worked inside by a wire -and once on a time when the folks had gone -she used to ogle at me -but now that i'm only marked twenty-nine -she turns up her nose at me -she turns up her little snub nose at me -and carries on with sixty-three - -i'll see what i can do -you're a fine little fellow, and it's a shame -that she should so treat you -so i took down the label from the shelf above -and i labeled him sixty-three -and i marked the other one twenty-nine -which was _very, very_ wrong of me -but i felt so sorry for that little tin soul -as he rode on his tin gee gee - -now that little tin soldier he puffed with pride -at being marked sixty-three -and that saucy little dolly girl smiled once more -for he'd risen in life, do you see -and it's so in this world; for i'm in love -with a maiden of high degree -but i am only marked twenty-nine -and the other chap's sixty-three -and a girl never looks at twenty-nine -with a possible sixty-three - - - -i went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer -the publican 'e up an' sez, "we serve no red-coats here -the girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die -o it's tommy this, an' tommy that, an' "tommy go away -but it's "thank you, mister atkins," when the band begins to play -the band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play -o it's "thank you, mister atkins," when the band begins to play - -i went into a theater as sober as could be -they give a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me -they sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls -but when it comes to fightin', lord! they'll shove me in the stalls -for it's tommy this, an' tommy that, an' "tommy wait outside -but it's "special train for atkins," when the trooper's on the tide -the troopship's on the tide, my boys, etc - -o makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep -is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap -an' hustlin' drunken sodgers when they're goin' large a bit -is five times better business than paradin' in full kit -then it's tommy this, an' tommy that, an' "tommy, 'ow's yer soul -but it's "thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll -the drums begin to roll, my boys, etc - -we aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too -but single men in barricks, most remarkable like you -an' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints -why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints -while it's tommy this, an' tommy that, an' "tommy fall be'ind -but it's "please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind -there's trouble in the wind, my boys, etc - -you talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all -we'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational -don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face -the widow's uniform[1] is not the soldierman's disgrace -for it's tommy this, an' tommy that, an' "chuck him out, the brute -but it's "saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot -an' it's tommy this, an' tommy that, an' anything you please -an' tommy ain't a bloomin' fool--you bet that tommy sees - - -victoria, who was often affectionately called "the widow of windsor - - -the weaver at his loom is sitting -throws his shuttle to and fro -foot and treadle -hand and pedal -upward, downward, hither, thither -how the weaver makes them go -as the weaver wills they go -up and down the web is plying -and across the woof is flying -what a rattling -what a battling -what a shuffling -what a scuffling -as the weaver makes his shuttle -hither, thither, scud and scuttle -threads in single, threads in double -how they mingle, what a trouble -every color, what profusion -every motion, what confusion -while the web and woof are mingling -signal bells above are jingling -telling how each figure ranges -telling when the color changes -as the weaver makes his shuttle -hither, thither, scud and scuttle - -the weaver at his loom is sitting -throws his shuttle to and fro -well the weaver seems to know -as he makes his shuttle go -what each motion -and commotion -what each fusion -and confusion -in the grand result will show -weaving daily -singing gaily -as he makes his busy shuttle -hither, thither, scud and scuttle - -the weaver at his loom is sitting -throws his shuttle to and fro -see you not how shape and order -from the wild confusion grow -as he makes his shuttle go -as the web and woof diminish -grows beyond the beauteous finish -tufted plaidings -shapes, and shadings -all the mystery -now is history -and we see the reason subtle -why the weaver makes his shuttle -hither, thither, scud and scuttle - -see the mystic weaver sitting -high in heaven--his loom below -up and down the treadles go -takes for web the world's long ages -takes for woof its kings and sages -takes the nobles and their pages -takes all stations and all stages -thrones are bobbins in his shuttle -armies make them scud and scuttle -web into the woof must flow -up and down the nations go -as the weaver wills they go -men are sparring -powers are jarring -upward, downward, hither, thither -just like puppets in a show -up and down the web is plying -and across the woof is flying -what a battling -what a rattling -what a shuffling -what a scuffling -as the weaver makes his shuttle -hither, thither, scud and scuttle - -calmly see the mystic weaver -throw his shuttle to and fro -well the weaver seems to know -what each motion -and commotion -what each fusion -and confusion -in the grand result will show -as the nations -kings and stations -upward, downward, hither, thither -as in mystic dances, go -in the present all is mystery -in the past, 'tis beauteous history -o'er the mixing and the mingling -how the signal bells are jingling -see you not the weaver leaving -finished work behind, in weaving -see you not the reason subtle -as the web and woof diminish -changing into beauteous finish -hither, thither, scud and scuttle - -glorious wonder! what a weaving -to the dull beyond believing -such, no fabled ages know -only _faith_ can see the mystery -how, along the aisle of history -where the feet of sages go -loveliest to the purest eyes -grand the mystic tapet lies -soft and smooth, and even spreading -every figure has its plaidings -as if made for angels' treading -tufted circles touching ever -inwrought figures fading never -brighter form and softer shadings -each illumined,--what a riddle -from a cross that gems the middle - -that its light is all reflected -that the tapet's hues are given -by a sun that shines in heaven -that great god himself is weaving -bringing out the world's dark mystery -in the light of truth and history -and as web and woof diminish -comes the grand and glorious finish -when begin the golden ages -long foretold by seers and sages - - -and when the world was light and gay, i could not even smile -it stood before me like a giant, outstretched its iron arm -no matter where i looked, i saw the mortgage on the farm - -i'll tell you how it happened, for i want the world to know -how glad i am this winter day whilst earth is white with snow -i'm just as happy as a lark. no cause for rude alarm -confronts us now, for lifted is the mortgage on the farm - -the children they were growing up and they were smart and trim -to some big college in the east we'd sent our youngest, jim -and every time he wrote us, at the bottom of his screed -he tacked some latin fol-de-rol which none of us could read - -the girls they ran to music, and to painting, and to rhymes -they said the house was out of style and far behind the times -they suddenly diskivered that it didn't keep'm warm -another step of course towards a mortgage on the farm - -we took a cranky notion, hannah jane and me one day -while we were coming home from town, a-talking all the way -the old house wasn't big enough for us, although for years -beneath its humble roof we'd shared each other's joys and tears - -we built it o'er and when 'twas done, i wish you could have seen it -it was a most tremendous thing--i really didn't mean it -why, it was big enough to hold the people of the town -and not one half as cosy as the old one we pulled down - -i bought a fine pianner and it shortened still the pile -but, then, it pleased the children and they banged it all the while -no matter what they played for me, their music had no charm -for every tune said plainly: "there's a mortgage on the farm - -i worked from morn till eve, and toiled as often toils the slave -to meet that grisly interest; i tried hard to be brave -and oft when i came home at night with tired brain and arm -the chickens hung their heads, they felt the mortgage on the farm - -but we saved a penny now and then, we laid them in a row -the girls they played the same old tunes, and let the new ones go -and when from college came our jim with laurels on his brow -i led him to the stumpy field and put him to the plow - -he something said in latin which i didn't understand -but it did me good to see his plow turn up the dewy land -and when the year had ended and empty were the cribs -we found we'd hit the mortgage, sir, a blow between the ribs - -to-day i harnessed up the team and thundered off to town -and in the lawyer's sight i planked the last bright dollar down -and when i trotted up the lanes a-feeling good and warm -the old red rooster crowed his best: "no mortgage on the farm - -i'll sleep almighty good to-night, the best for many a day -the skeleton that haunted us has passed fore'er away -the girls can play the brand-new tunes with no fears to alarm -and jim can go to congress, with no mortgage on the farm - - -that is what the vision said - -in his chamber all alone -kneeling on the floor of stone -prayed the monk in deep contrition -for his sins of indecision -prayed for greater self-denial -in temptation and in trial -it was noonday by the dial -and the monk was all alone - -suddenly, as if it lightened -an unwonted splendor brightened -all within him and without him -in that narrow cell of stone -and he saw the blessed vision -of our lord, with light elysian -like a vesture wrapped about him -like a garment round him thrown - -not as crucified and slain -not in agonies of pain -not with bleeding hands and feet -did the monk his master see -but as in the village street -in the house or harvest field -halt and lame and blind he healed -when he walked in galilee - -in as attitude imploring -hands upon his bosom crossed -wondering, worshiping, adoring -knelt the monk, in rapture lost -lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest -who am i that thus thou deignest -to reveal thyself to me -who am i, that from the center -of thy glory thou shouldst enter -this poor cell, my guest to be - -then amid his exaltation -loud the convent bell appalling -from its belfrey calling, calling -rang through court and corridor -with persistent iteration -he had never heard before -it was now the appointed hour -when alike in shine or shower -winter's cold or summer's heat -to the convent portals came -all the blind and halt and lame -all the beggars of the street -for their daily dole of food -dealt them by the brotherhood - -and their almoner was he -who upon his bended knees -rapt in silent ecstasy -of divinest self-surrender -saw the vision and the splendor - -deep distress and hesitation -mingled with his adoration -should he go, or should he stay -should he leave the poor to wait -hungry at the convent gate -till the vision passed away -should he slight his radiant guest -slight this visitant celestial -for a crowd of ragged, bestial -beggars at the convent gate -would the vision there remain -would the vision come again -then a voice within his breast -whispered audible and clear -as if to the outward ear -leave unto thy lord the rest - -straightway to his feet he started -and with longing look intent -on the blessed vision bent -slowly from his cell departed -slowly on his errand went - -at the gate the poor were waiting -looking through the iron grating -with that terror in the eye -that is only seen in those -who amid their wants and woes -hear the sound of doors that close -and of feet that pass them by -grown familiar with disfavor -grown familiar with the savor -of the bread by which men die -but to-day, they knew not why -like the gate of paradise -seemed the convent gate to rise -like a sacrament divine -seemed to them the bread and wine -in his heart the monk was praying -thinking of the homeless poor -what they suffer and endure -what we see not, what we see -and the inward voice was saying -to the least of mine and lowest -that thou doest unto me - -unto me! but had the vision -come to him in beggar's clothing -come a mendicant imploring -would he then have knelt adoring -or have listened with derision -and have turned away with loathing - -thus his conscience put the question -full of troublesome suggestion -as at length, with hurried pace -toward his cell he turned his face -and beheld the convent bright -with a supernatural light -like a luminous cloud expanding -over floor and wall and ceiling - -but he paused with awe-struck feeling -at the threshold of his door -for the vision still was standing -as he left it there before -when the convent bell appalling -from its belfry calling, calling -summoned him to feed the poor -through the long hour intervening -it had waited his return -and he felt his bosom burn -comprehending all the meaning -when the blessed vision said - - - -into a ward of the whitewashed halls -where the dead and dying lay -wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls -somebody's darling was borne one day - -somebody's darling, so young and so brave -wearing yet on his pale, sweet face -soon to be hid by the dust of the grave -the lingering light of his boyhood's grace - -matted and damp are the curls of gold -kissing the snow of the fair young brow -pale are the lips of delicate mold -somebody's darling is dying now - -back from his beautiful blue-veined brow -brush all the wandering waves of gold -cross his hands on his bosom now -somebody's darling is still and cold - -kiss him once for somebody's sake -murmur a prayer both soft and low -one bright curl from its fair mates take -they were somebody's pride, you know - -somebody's hand hath rested there -was it a mother's, soft and white -and have the lips of a sister fair -been baptized in their waves of light - -god knows best! he was somebody's love -somebody's heart enshrined him there -somebody wafted his name above -night and morn on the wings of prayer - -somebody wept when he marched away -looking so handsome, brave, and grand -somebody's kiss on his forehead lay -somebody clung to his parting hand - -somebody's waiting and watching for him -yearning to hold him again to her heart -and there he lies with his blue eyes dim -and the smiling, child-like lips apart - -tenderly bury the fair young dead -pausing to drop on his grave a tear -carve in the wooden slab at his head - - - -south mountain towered upon our right, far off the river lay -and over on the wooded height we held their lines at bay -at last the muttering guns were still; the day died slow and wan -at last the gunners pipes did fill, the sergeant's yarns began -when, as the wind a moment blew aside the fragrant flood -our brierwoods raised, within our view a little maiden stood -a tiny tot of six or seven, from fireside fresh she seemed -and as we stared, her little hand went to her curly head -in grave salute. "and who are _you_?" at length the sergeant said -my home? why, that was burned away, and pa and ma are dead -and so i ride the guns all day along with sergeant ned -and i've a drum that's not a toy, a cap with feathers, too -and i march beside the drummer boy on sundays at review -but now our 'bacca's all give out, the men can't have their smoke -and so they're cross--why, even ned won't play with me and joke -and the big colonel said to-day--i hate to hear him swear -he'd give a leg for a good pipe like the yanks had over there -and so i thought when beat the drum, and the big guns were still -i'd creep beneath the tent and come out here across the hill -and beg, good mister yankee men, you'd give me some 'lone jack -please do: when we get some again, i'll surely bring it back -indeed i will, for ned--says he,--if i do what i say -i'll be a general yet, maybe, and ride a prancing bay - -we brimmed her tiny apron o'er; you should have heard her laugh -as each man from his scanty store shook out a generous half -to kiss the little mouth stooped down a score of grimy men -until the sergeant's husky voice said,"'tention squad!" and then -we gave her escort, till good-night the pretty waif we bid -and watched her toddle out of sight--or else 'twas tears that hid -her tiny form--nor turned about a man, nor spoke a word -till after awhile a far, hoarse shout upon the wind we heard -we sent it back, then cast sad eyes upon the scene around -a baby's hand had touched the ties that brothers once had bound - -that's all--save when the dawn awoke again the work of hell -and through the sullen clouds of smoke the screaming missiles fell -our general often rubbed his glass, and marveled much to see - - - -it was kept out in the kitchen, and 'twas long and deep and wide -and the poker hung above it and the shovel stood beside -and the big, black cookstove, grinnin' through its grate from ear to ear -seemed to look as if it loved it like a brother, pretty near -flowered oilcloth tacked around it kept its cracks and knot-holes hid -and a pair of leather hinges fastened on the heavy lid -and it hadn't any bottom--or, at least, it seemed that way -when you hurried in to fill it, so's to get outside and play - -when the noons was hot and lazy and the leaves hung dry and still -and the locust in the pear tree started up his planin'-mill -and the drum-beat of the breakers was a soothin', temptin' roll -and you knew the "gang" was waitin' by the brimmin' "swimmin' hole -louder than the locust's buzzin,' louder than the breakers' roar -you could hear the wood-box holler, "come and fill me up once more -and the old clock ticked and chuckled as you let each armful drop -like it said, "another minute, and you're nowheres near the top - -in the chilly winter mornin's when the bed was snug and warm -and the frosted winders tinkled 'neath the fingers of the storm -and your breath rose off the piller in a smoky cloud of steam -then that wood-box, grim and empty, came a-dancin' through your dream -came and pounded at your conscience, screamed in aggravatin' glee -land! how plain it is this minute--shed and barn and drifted snow -and the slabs of oak a-waitin!, piled and ready, in a row - -never was a fishin' frolic, never was a game of ball -but that mean, provokin' wood-box had to come and spoil it all -you might study at your lessons and 'twas full and full to stay -but jest start an injun story, and 'twas empty right away -seemed as if a spite was in it, and although i might forgit -all the other chores that plagued me, i can hate that wood-box yit -and when i look back at boyhood--shakin' off the cares of men -still it comes to spoil the picture, screamin', "fill me up again - - - -good deacon roland--"may his tribe increase -awoke one sabbath morn feeling at peace -with god and all mankind. his wants supplied -he read his bible and then knelt beside -the family altar, and uplifted there -his voice to god in fervent praise and prayer -in praise for blessings past, so rich and free -and prayer for benedictions yet to be -then on a stile, which spanned the dooryard fence -he sat him down complacently, and thence -surveyed with pride, o'er the far-reaching plain -his flocks and herds and fields of golden grain -his meadows waving like the billowy seas -and orchards filled with over-laden trees -quoth he: "how vast the products of my lands -abundance crowns the labor of my hands -great is my substance; god indeed is good -who doth in love provide my daily food - -while thus he sat in calm soliloquy -a voice aroused him from his reverie -a childish voice from one whose shoeless feet -brought him unnoticed to the deacon's seat -if i had money i would gladly pay -for bread; but i am poor, and cannot buy -should ask for something, just for what you call -cold pieces from your table, that is all -the deacon listened to the child's request -the while his penetrating eye did rest -on him whose tatters, trembling, quick revealed -the agitation of the heart concealed -within the breast of one unskilled in ruse -who asked not alms like one demanding dues -then said the deacon: "i am not inclined -to give encouragement to those who find -it easier to beg for bread betimes -than to expend their strength in earning dimes -wherewith to purchase it. a parent ought -to furnish food for those whom he has brought -into this world, where each one has his share -of tribulation, sorrow, toil and care -i sympathize with you, my little lad -your destitution makes me feel so sad -but, for the sake of those who should supply -your wants, i must your earnest plea deny -and inasmuch as giving food to you -would be providing for your parents, too -thus fostering vagrancy and idleness -i cannot think such charity would bless -who gives or takes; and therefore i repeat -i cannot give you anything to eat -before this "vasty deep" of logic stood -the child nor found it satisfying food -nor did he tell the tale he might have told -of parents slumbering in the grave's damp mould -but quickly shrank away to find relief -in giving vent to his rekindled grief -while deacon roland soon forgot the appeal -in meditating on his better weal - -ere long the sabbath bells their peals rang out -to summon worshippers, with hearts devout -to wait on god and listen to his word -and then the deacon's pious heart was stirred -and in the house of god he soon was found -engaged in acts of worship most profound -wearied, however, with his week-day care -he fell asleep before the parson's prayer -was ended; then he dreamed he died and came -to heaven's grand portal, and announced his name -to join the saints; please set the gates ajar -that i may 'join the everlasting song -and mingle ever with the ransomed throng -then lo! "a horror of great darkness" came -upon him, as he heard a voice exclaim -i never knew you, for indeed, howe'er -you may have wrought on earth, the sad, sad fact -remains, that life's sublimest, worthiest act -the deacon woke to find it all a dream -just as the minister announced his theme -as practice charity; for 'inasmuch -as ye have done it to the least of these -my little ones' saith he who holds the keys -of heaven, 'ye have done it unto me -and i will give you immortality - -straightway the deacon left his cushioned pew -and from the church in sudden haste withdrew -and up the highway ran, on love's swift feet -to overtake the child of woe, and greet -him as the worthy representative -of christ the lord and to him freely give -all needful good, that thus he might atone -for the neglect which he before had shown -thus journeying, god directed all his way -o'er hill and dale, to where the outcast lay -beside the road bemoaning his sad fate -and then the deacon said, "my child, 'tis late -make haste and journey with me to my home -to guide you thither, i myself have come -and you shall have the food you asked in vain -for god himself hath made my duty plain -if he demand it, all i have is thine -shrink not, but trust me; place thy hand in mine -and as they journeyed toward the deacon's home -the child related how he came to roam -until the listening deacon understood -the touching story of his orphanhood -then, finding in the little waif a gem -worthy to deck the saviour's diadem -he drew him to his loving breast, and said -nor shall you go from hence again to roam -while god in love provides for us a home -and as the weeks and months roll on apace -the deacon held the lad in love's embrace -and being childless did on him confer -the boon of sonship - -thus the almoner -of god's great bounty to the destitute -the deacon came to be; and as the fruit -of having learned to keep the golden rule -his charity became all-bountiful -and from thenceforth he lived to benefit -mankind; and when in life's great book were writ -their names who heeded charity's request -lo! deacon roland's "name led all the rest - - - -talking of sects quite late one eve -what one and another of saints believe -that night i stood in a troubled dream -by the side of a darkly-flowing stream - -and a "churchman" down to the river came -when i heard a strange voice call his name -you must leave your robes on the other side - -but the aged father did not mind -and his long gown floated out behind -as down to the stream his way he took -his hands firm hold of a gilt-edged book - -i shall want my book of common prayer -and though i put on a starry crown -i should feel quite lost without my gown - -then he fixed his eye on the shining track -but his gown was heavy and held him back -and the poor old father tried in vain -a single step in the flood to gain - -i saw him again on the other side -but his silk gown floated on the tide -and no one asked, in that blissful spot -if he belonged to "the church" or not - -then down to the river a quaker strayed -his dress of a sober hue was made -i cannot go any other way - -then he buttoned his coat straight up to his chin -and staidly, solemnly, waded in -and his broad-brimmed hat he pulled down tight -over his forehead, so cold and white - -but a strong wind carried away his hat -and he sighed a few moments over that -and then, as he gazed to the farther shore -the coat slipped off and was seen no more - -poor, dying quaker, thy suit of gray -is quietly sailing--away--away -but thou'lt go to heaven, as straight as an arrow -whether thy brim be broad or narrow - -next came dr. watts with a bundle of psalms -tied nicely up in his aged arms -and hymns as many, a very wise thing -that the people in heaven, "all round," might sing - -but i thought that he heaved an anxious sigh -as he saw that the river ran broad and high -and looked rather surprised, as one by one -the psalms and hymns in the wave went down - -came wesley, the pattern of godliness -but he cried, "dear me, what shall i do -the water has soaked them through and through - -and there, on the river, far and wide -away they went on the swollen tide -and the saint, astonished, passed through alone -without his manuscripts, up to the throne - -then gravely walking, two saints by name -down to the stream together came -but as they stopped at the river's brink -i saw one saint from the other shrink - -how you attained to life's great end - -as i'm 'close communion,' to cross with you -you're bound, i know, to the realms of bliss -but you must go that way, and i'll go this - -and straightway plunging with all his might -away to the left--his friend at the right -apart they went from this world of sin -but how did the brethren "enter in - -and now where the river was rolling on -a presbyterian church went down -of women, there seemed an innumerable throng -but the men i could count as they passed along - -and concerning the road they could never agree -the _old_ or the _new_ way, which it could be -nor ever a moment paused to think -that both would lead to the river's brink - -and a sound of murmuring long and loud -came ever up from the moving crowd -that is the false, and this is the true -or, "i'm in the old way, and you're in the new - -but the brethren only seemed to speak -modest the sisters walked, and meek -and if ever one of them chanced to say -what troubles she met with on the way -how she longed to pass to the other side -nor feared to cross over the swelling tide -a voice arose from the brethren then -for have ye not heard the words of paul - -i watched them long in my curious dream -till they stood by the border of the stream -then, just as i thought, the two ways met -but all the brethren were talking yet -and would talk on, till the heaving tide -carried them over, side by side -side by side, for the way was one -the toilsome journey of life was done -and priest and quaker, and all who died -came out alike on the other side -no forms or crosses, or books had they -no gowns of silk, or suits of gray -for all had put on "christ's righteousness - - - -i can't tell much about the thing, 'twas done so powerful quick -but 'pears to me i got a most outlandish heavy lick -it broke my leg, and tore my skulp, and jerked my arm 'most out -but take a seat: i'll try and tell jest how it kem about - -you see, i'd started down to town, with that 'ere team of mine -a-haulin' down a load o' corn to ebenezer kline -and drivin' slow; for, jest about a day or two before -the off-horse run a splinter in his foot, and made it sore - -you know the railroad cuts across the road at martin's hole -well, thar i seed a great big sign, raised high upon a pole -i thought i'd stop and read the thing, and find out what it said -and so i stopped the hosses on the railroad-track, and read - -i ain't no scholar, rekollect, and so i had to spell -and that spelt "rail" as clear as mud; r-o-a-d was "road -i lumped 'em: "railroad" was the word, and that 'ere much i knowed - -c-r-o and double s, with i-n-g to boot -made "crossing" jest as plain as noah webster dared to do't -and i wos lookin' all the time, and spellin' like a book - -o-u-t spelt "out" just right; and there it was, "look out -i's kinder cur'us like, to know jest what't was all about -f-o-r and t-h-e; 'twas then "look out for the - -i'd got that fur, when suddintly there came an awful whack -a thousand fiery thunderbolts just scooped me off the track -the hosses went to davy jones, the wagon went to smash -and i was histed seven yards above the tallest ash - -i didn't come to life ag'in fur 'bout a day or two -but, though i'm crippled up a heap, i sorter struggled through -it ain't the pain, nor 'taint the loss o' that 'ere team of mine -but, stranger, how i'd like to know the rest of that 'ere sign - - - - -turn back the leaves of history. on yon pacific shore -a world-known city's fall and rise shall thrill your hearts once more -effulgent in the splendor of the dying orb of day -that bathed in flood of crimson light mount tamalpais' lonely height -and kissed the sister towns "goodnight" across the misty bay - -it burst in glory on the hills, lit up the princely homes -and gleamed from lofty towers and spires and flashed from gilded domes -it glorified the massive blocks caught in its widening flow -engulfed the maze of streets and parks that stretched away below -till marble white and foliage green and vales of gray, and silvery sheen -of ocean's surface vast, serene, were tinted by its glow - -the tranquil murmurs of the deep were borne on balmy air -all odorous with lily breath and roses sweet and rare -the zephyrs sang a lullaby as the slow, fiery ball -ended its trail of gorgeousness behind horizon's wall -then gray absorbed each rainbow hue and dark the beauteous landscape grew -as shadowy evening softly drew her curtain over all - - -that night around the festal board, 'mid incandescence gay -sat pomp and pride and wealth and power, in sumptuous array -that night the happy, careless throng were all on pleasure bent -and beauty in her jewelled robes to ball and opera went -the sunset city sank to rest in peace, secure, content - - -unconscious of approaching doom, old san francisco sleeps -while from the east, all smilingly, the april morning creeps -see! playful sunbeams tinge with gold the mountains in the sky -and hazy clouds of gray unfold--but, hark! what means that cry -the ground vibrates with sadden shock. the buildings tremble, groan -and rock -wild fears the waking senses mock, and some wake but to die - -a frightful subterranean force the earth's foundation shakes -the city quivers in the throes of fierce, successive quakes -and massive structures thrill like giant oaks before the blast -into the streets with deafening crash the frailer ones are cast -half garbed, the multitude rush out in frantic haste, with prayer and -shout -to join the panic stricken rout. ho! death is marching past - -a rumbling noise! the streets upheave, and sink again, like waves -and shattered piles and shapeless wrecks are strewn with human graves -danger at every corner lurks. destruction fills the air -death-laden showers of mortar, bricks, are falling everywhere - - -to their hearts -are struggling for the open parts in frenzy of despair - -a hundred tiny tongues of flame forth from the ruins burst -no water! god! what shall we do to slake their quenchless thirst -the shocks have broken all the mains! "_use wine!_" the people cry -the red flames laugh like drunken fiends; they stagger as to die -then up again in fury spring, on high their crimson draperies fling -from block to block they leap and swing, and smoke clouds hide the sky - -ha! from the famed presidio that guards the golden gate -come funston and his regulars to match their strength with fate -the soldiers and the citizens are fighting side by side -to check that onslaught of red wrath, to stem destruction's tide -with roar, and boom, and blare, and blast, an open space is cleared at -the fiends of fury gallop past with flanks outstretched and wide - -around the city's storehouses they wreathe and twine and dance -and wealth and splendor shrivel up before their swift advance -before their devastating breath the stricken people flee -into that vortex of red hell sink church and theatre, store, hotel -with thunderous roar and hissing yell on sweeps the crimson sea - -again with charge of dynamite the lurid clouds are riven -again with heat and sulphur smoke the troops are backward driven -all day, all night, all day again, with that infernal host -they strive in vain for mastery. each vantage gained is lost -on comes the bellowing flood of flame in furious wrath its own to claim -resistless in its awful aim each space is bridged and crossed - -ah god! the miles and miles of waste! one half the city gone -and westward now--toward van ness--the roaring flames roll on -and there, at broad van ness, the troops make their heroic stand -the fight is now for life--sweet life, for helpless babe and homeless -the culmination of the strife spectacularly grand - -on sweeps the hurricane of fire. the fatal touch is given -the detonation of the blast goes shrieking up to heaven -the mansions of bonanza kings are tottering to their doom -that swirling tide of fiery fate halts at the gaping tomb -beyond the cataclysm's brink, the multitude, too dazed to think -behold the red waves rise and--sink into the smoldering gloom - - -the fire has swept the waterfront and burned the mission down -the business section--swallowed up, and wiped out chinatown -full thirty thousand homes destroyed, nob hill in ashes lies -and ghastly skeletons of steel on market street arise -a gruesome picture everywhere! 'tis desolation grim and bare -waits artisan and millionaire beneath rank sulphurous skies - -to-night, within the city parks, famished, benumbed and mute -two hundred thousand refugees, homeless and destitute -upon the hard, cold ground they crouch--the wrecks of pomp and pride -milady and the city waifs are huddled side by side -and there, 'neath shelter rude and frail, we hear the new-born infants -while' nations read the tragic tale--how san francisco died - - -prophecy--1906 - -not dead! though maimed, her soul yet lives--indomitable will -the faith, the hope, the spirit bold nor quake nor fire can kill -to-morrow hearts shall throb again with western enterprise -and from the ruins of to-day a city shall arise -a monument of beauty great reared by the conquerors of fate -the city of the golden gate and matchless sunset skies - - -fulfillment--1915 - -reborn, rebuilt, she rose again, far vaster in expanse -a radiant city smiling from the ashes of romance -a san francisco glorified, more beauteous than of yore -enthroned upon her splendid hills, queen of the sunset shore -her flags of industry unfurled, her portals open to the world -thus, in the book of destiny, she lives for evermore - - - - -the autumn is old -the sere leaves are flying -he hath gathered up gold -and now he is dying -old age, begin sighing - -the vintage is ripe -the harvest is heaping -but some that have sowed -have no riches for reaping -poor wretch, fall a-weeping - -the year's in the wane -there is nothing adorning -the night has no eve -and the day has no morning -cold winter gives warning - -the rivers run chill -the red sun is sinking -and i am grown old -and life is fast shrinking -here's enow for sad thinking - - - -why, yes, dear, we can put it by. it does seem out of place -on top of these down comforts and this spread of silk and lace -you see, i'm used to having it lie so, across my feet -but maybe i won't need it here, with this nice furnace heat -i made it? yes, dear, long ago. 'twas lots of work, you think -oh, not so much. my rose quilt, now, all white and green and pink -is really handsome. this is just a plain, log cabin block -pieced out of odds and ends; but still--now that's your papa's frock -before he walked, and this bit here is his first little suit -i trimmed it up with silver braid. my, but he did look cute -that red there in the centers, was your aunt ruth's for her name -her grandmother almost clothed the child, before the others came -those plaids? the younger girls', they were. i dressed them just alike -and this was baby winnie's sack--the precious little tyke -ma wore this gown to visit me (they drove the whole way then -and little edson wore this waist. he never came again -this lavender par'matta was your great-aunt jane's--poor dear -mine was a sprig, with the lilac ground; see, in the corner here -such goods were high in war times. ah, that scrap of army blue -your bright eyes spied it! yes, dear child, that has its memories, too -they sent him home on furlough once--our soldier brother ned -but somewhere, now, the dear boy sleeps among the unknown dead -that flowered patch? well, now, to think you'd pick that from the rest -why, dearie--yes, it's satin ribbed--that's grandpa's wedding vest -just odds and ends! no great for looks. my rose quilt's nicer, far -or the one in basket pattern, or the double-pointed star -but, somehow--what! we'll leave it here? the bed won't look so neat -but i think i would sleep better with it so, across my feet - - -two angels, one of life and one of death -passed o'er our village as the morning broke -the dawn was on their faces, and beneath -the sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke - -their attitude and aspect were the same -alike their features and their robes of white -but one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame -and one with asphodels, like flakes of light - -i saw them pause on their celestial way -then said i, with deep fear and doubt oppressed -the place where thy beloved are at rest - -and he who wore the crown of asphodels -descending, at my door began to knock -and my soul sank within me, as in wells -the waters sink before an earthquake's shock - -i recognized the nameless agony -the terror and the tremor and the pain -that oft before had filled or haunted me -and now returned with threefold strength again - -the door i opened to my heavenly guest -and listened, for i thought i heard god's voice -and, knowing whatsoe'er he sent was best -dared neither to lament nor to rejoice - -then with a smile, that filled the house with light -and ere i answered, passing out of sight -on his celestial embassy he sped - -the angel with the amaranthine wreath -pausing, descended, and with, voice divine -whispered a word that had a sound like death - -then fell upon the house a sudden gloom -a shadow on those features fair and thin -and softly, from that hushed and darkened room -two angels issued, where but one went in - -all is of god! if he but waves his hand -the mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud -till, with a smile of light on sea and land -lo! he looks back from the departing cloud - -angels of life and death alike are his -without his leave they pass no threshold o'er -who, then, would wish or dare, believing this -against his messengers to shut the door - - - -it was the pleasant harvest-time -when cellar-bins are closely stowed -and garrets bend beneath their load -and the old swallow-haunted barns -brown-gabled, long, and full of seams -through which the moted sunlight streams - -and winds blow freshly in, to shake -the red plumes of the roosted cocks -and the loose hay-mow's scented locks -are filled with summer's ripened stores -its odorous grass and barley sheaves -from their low scaffolds to their eaves - -on esek harden's oaken floor -with many an autumn threshing worn -lay the heaped ears of unhusked corn -and thither came young men and maids -beneath a moon that, large and low -lit that sweet eve of long ago -they took their places; some by chance -and others by a merry voice -or sweet smile guided to their choice - -how pleasantly the rising moon -between the shadow of the mows -looked on them through the great elm-boughs -on sturdy boyhood, sun-embrowned -on girlhood with its solid curves -of healthful strength and painless nerves -and jests went round, and laughs that made -the house-dog answer with his howl -and kept astir the barn-yard fowl - -and quaint old songs their fathers sung -in derby dales and yorkshire moors -ere norman william trod their shores -and tales, whose merry license shook -the fat sides of the saxon thane -forgetful of the hovering dane - -but still the sweetest voice was mute -that river-valley ever heard -from lip of maid or throat of bird -for mabel martin sat apart -and let the hay-mow's shadow 'fall -upon the loveliest face of all -she sat apart, as one forbid -who knew that none would condescend -to own the witch-wife's child a friend - -the seasons scarce had gone their round -since curious thousands thronged to see -her mother on the gallows-tree -and mocked the palsied limbs of age -that faltered on the fatal stairs -and wan lip trembling with its prayers - -few questioned of the sorrowing child -or, when they saw the mother die -dreamed of the daughter's agony -they went up to their homes that day -as men and christians justified -god willed it, and the wretch had died - -dear god and father of us all -forgive our faith in cruel lies -forgive the blindness that denies -forgive thy creature when he takes -for the all-perfect love thou art -some grim creation of his heart -cast down our idols, overturn -our bloody altars; let us see -thyself in thy humanity - -poor mabel from her mother's grave -crept to her desolate hearth-stone -and wrestled with her fate alone -with love, and anger, and despair -the phantoms of disordered sense -the awful doubts of providence -the school-boys jeered her as they passed -and, when she sought the house of prayer -her mother's curse pursued her there -and still o'er many a neighboring door -she saw the horseshoe's curved charm -to guard against her mother's harm - -that mother, poor, and sick, and lame -who daily, by the old arm-chair -folded her withered hands in prayer -who turned, in salem's dreary jail -her worn old bible o'er and o'er -when her dim eyes could read no more - -sore tried and pained, the poor girl kept -her faith, and trusted that her way -so dark, would somewhere meet the day -and still her weary wheel went round -day after day, with no relief -small leisure have the poor for grief - -so in the shadow mabel sits -untouched by mirth she sees and hears -her smile is sadder than her tears -but cruel eyes have found her out -and cruel lips repeat her name -and taunt her with her mother's shame - -she answered not with railing words -but drew her apron o'er her face -and, sobbing, glided from the place -and only pausing at the door -her sad eyes met the troubled gaze -of one who, in her better days -had been her warm and steady friend -ere yet her mother's doom had made -even esek harden half afraid - -he felt that mute appeal of tears -and, starting, with an angry frown -hushed all the wicked murmurs down -i brook no insult to my guest - -but god's sweet pity ministers -unto no whiter soul than hers -let goody martin rest in peace -i never knew her harm a fly -i know who swore her life away -and, as god lives, i'd not condemn -an indian dog on word of them - -poor mabel, in her lonely home -sat by the window's narrow pane -white in the moonlight's silver rain -the river, on its pebbled rim -made music such as childhood knew -the door-yard tree was whispered through -by voices such as childhood's ear -had heard in moonlights long ago -and through the willow boughs below -she saw the rippled waters shine -beyond, in waves of shade and light -the hills rolled off into the night - -sweet sounds and pictures mocking so -the sadness of her human lot -she saw and heard, but heeded not -she strove to drown her sense of wrong -and, in her old and simple way -to teach, her bitter heart to pray - -poor child! the prayer, began in faith -grew to a low, despairing cry -of utter misery: "let me die -oh! take me from the scornful eyes -and hide me where the cruel speech -and mocking finger may not reach - -a daughter's right i dare not crave -to weep above her unblest grave -let me not live until my heart -with few to pity, and with none -to love me, hardens into stone -o god! have mercy on thy child -whose faith in thee grows weak and small -and take me ere i lose it all - -the broadest lands in all the town -the skill to guide, the power to awe -were harden's; and his word was law -none dared withstand him to his face -but one sly maiden spake aside -her mother only killed a cow -or witched a churn or dairy-pan -but she, forsooth, must charm a man - -a shadow on the moonlight fell -and murmuring wind and wave became -a voice whose burden was her name -had then god heard her? had he sent -his angel down? in flesh and blood -before her esek harden stood - -he laid his hand upon her arm -who scoffs at you, must scoff at me -you know rough esek harden well -and if he seems no suitor gay -and if his hair is mixed with gray -the maiden grown shall never find -his heart less warm than when she smiled -upon his knees, a little child - -her tears of grief were tears of joy -as folded in his strong embrace -she looked in esek harden's face -and make me worthy of my lot - -he led her through his dewy fields -to where the swinging lanterns glowed -and through the doors the huskers showed -in mabel see my chosen wife - -the past is past, and all offence -falls harmless from her innocence -henceforth she stands no more alone -you know what esek harden is -he brooks no wrong to him or his - -now let the merriest tales be told -and let the sweetest songs be sung -that ever made the old heart young -for now the lost has found a home -and a lone hearth shall brighter burn -as all the household joys return - -oh, pleasantly the harvest moon -between the shadow of the mows -looked on them through the great elm-boughs -on mabel's curls of golden hair -on esek's shaggy strength it fell -and the wind whispered, "it is well - - - -king david's limbs were weary. he had fled -from far jerusalem; and now he stood -with his faint people for a little rest -upon the shore of jordan. the light wind -of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow -to its refreshing breath; for he had worn -the mourner's covering, and he had not felt -that he could see his people until now - -they gathered round him on the fresh green bank -and spoke their kindly words, and as the sun -rose up in heaven he knelt among them there -and bowed his head upon his hands to pray -oh! when the heart is full--where bitter thoughts -come crowding thickly up for utterance -and the poor common words of courtesy -are such a mockery--how much -the bursting heart may pour itself in prayer -he prayed for israel--and his voice went up -strongly and fervently. he prayed for those -whose love had been his shield--and his deep tones -grew tremulous. but, oh! for absalom -for his estranged, misguided absalom -the proud, bright being who had burst away -in all his princely beauty to defy -the heart that cherished him--for him he prayed -in agony that would not be controll'd -strong supplication, and forgave him there -before his god for his deep sinfulness - -the pall was settled. he who slept beneath -was straightened for the grave, and as the folds -sank to their still proportions, they betrayed -the matchless symmetry of absalom -the mighty joab stood beside the bier -and gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly -as if he feared the slumberer might stir -a slow step startled him. he grasped his blade -as if a trumpet rang, but the bent form -of david entered; and he gave command -in a low tone to his few followers -and left him with the dead - -the king stood still -till the last echo died; then, throwing off -the sackcloth from his brow, and laying back -the pall from the still features of his child -he bowed his head upon him and broke forth -in the resistless eloquence of woe - -thou who were made so beautifully fair -that death should settle in thy glorious eye -and leave his stillness in this clustering hair -how could he mark thee for the silent tomb -my proud boy, absalom - -as to my bosom i have tried to press thee -how was i wont to feel my pulses thrill -like a rich harp-string yearning to caress thee -and hear thy sweet 'my father!' from those dumb -and cold lips, absalom - -of music, and the voices of the young -and life will pass me in the mantling blush -and the dark tresses to the soft winds flung -but thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come -to meet me, absalom - -like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken -how will its love for thee, as i depart -yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token -it were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom -to see thee, absalom - -with death so like a gentle slumber on thee -and thy dark sin! oh! i could drink the cup -if from this woe its bitterness had won thee -may god have called thee, like a wanderer, home -my lost boy, absalom - -he covered up his face, and bowed himself -a moment on his child; then, giving him -a look of melting tenderness, he clasped -his hands convulsively, as if in prayer -and, as if strength were given him of god -he rose up calmly, and composed the pall -firmly and decently--and left him there -as if his rest had been a breathing sleep - - - -it is christmas day in the workhouse -and the cold bare walls are bright -with garlands of green and holly -and the place is a pleasant sight -for with clean-washed hands and faces -in a long and hungry line -the paupers sit at the tables -for this is the hour they dine - -and the guardians and their ladies -although the wind is east -have come in their furs and wrappers -to watch their charges feast -to smile and be condescending -put pudding on pauper plates -to be hosts at the workhouse banquet -they've paid for--with the rates - -oh, the paupers are meek and lowly -with their "thank'ee kindly, mum's -so long as they fill their stomachs -what matter whence it comes -but one of the old men mutters -and pushes his plate aside -for this is the day _she_ died - -the guardians gazed in horror -the master's face went white -then the ladies clutched their husbands -thinking the man would die -struck by a bolt, or something -by the outraged one on high - -but the pauper sat for a moment -then rose 'mid a silence grim -for the others had ceased to chatter -and trembled in every limb -he looked at the guardians' ladies -then, eyeing their lords, he said -whose hands are foul and red - -from their dark unhallowed graves -who, torn by the hounds and mangled -declines the vulture's feast - -and i won't be dragged away -just let me have the fit out -it's only on christmas day -that the black past comes to goad me -and prey on my burning brain -i'll tell you the rest in a whisper -i swear i won't shout again - -hear me right out to the end -you come here to see how paupers -the season of christmas spend -you come here to watch us feeding -as they watch the captured beast -hear why a penniless pauper -spits on your palfry feast - -and let you smile and think -you're doing a noble action -with the parish's meat and drink -where is my wife, you traitors -the poor old wife you slew -yes, by the god above us -my nance was killed by you - -starved in a filthy den -i had never been to the parish -i came to the parish then -i swallowed my pride in coming -for, ere the ruin came -i held up my head as a trader -and i bore a spotless name - -bread for a starving wife -bread for the woman who'd loved me -through fifty years of life -and what do you think they told me -mocking my awful grief -that 'the house' was open to us -but they wouldn't give 'out relief - -and the bakers' shops were open -tempting a man to thieve -but i clenched my fists together -holding my head awry -so i came to her empty-handed -and mournfully told her why - -she had heard of the ways of _that -for her bloodless cheeks went crimson -and up in her rags she sat -crying, 'bide the christmas here, john -we've never had one apart -i think i can bear the hunger -the other would break my heart - -holding her hand in mine -praying the lord, and weeping -till my lips were salt as brine -i asked her once if she hungered -and as she answered 'no -the moon shone in at the window -set in a wreath of snow - -and i saw in my darling's eyes -the far-away look of wonder -that comes when the spirit flies -and her lips were parched and parted -and her reason came and went -for she raved of our home in devon -where our happiest years were spent - -came back to the tongue once more -for she talked like the country lassie -i woo'd by the devon shore -then she rose to her feet and trembled -and fell on the rags and moaned -and, 'give me a crust--i'm famished -for the love of god!' she groaned - -and flew to the workhouse gate -crying 'food for a dying woman -and the answer came, 'too late -they drove me away with curses -then i fought with a dog in the street -and tore from the mongrel's clutches -a crust he was trying to eat - -back, through the trampled slush -up to the crazy garret -wrapped in an awful hush -my heart sank down at the threshold -and i paused with a sudden thrill -for there in the silv'ry moonlight -my nance lay, cold and still - -the sunken eyes were cast -i knew on those lips all bloodless -my name had been the last -she'd called for her absent husband -o god! had i but known -had called in vain, and in anguish -had died in that den--_alone - -lay a loving woman dead -cruelly starved and murdered -for a loaf of the parish bread -at yonder gate, last christmas -i craved for a human life -you, who would feast us paupers - -don't mind me in the least -think of the happy paupers -eating your christmas feast -and when you recount their blessings -in your snug, parochial way -say what you did for _me_, too -only last christmas day - - - -first on the list is washington, virginia's proudest name -john adams next, the federalist, from massachusetts came -three sons of old virginia into the white house go - -and tennessee a democrat, brave jackson staunch and true -martin van buren of new york, and harrison we see -and tyler of virginia, and polk of tennessee - -louisiana taylor sent; new york millard fillmore -new hampshire gave us franklin pierce; when his term was o'er -the keystone state buchanan sent. war thunders shook the realm -abe lincoln wore a martyr's crown, and johnson took the helm - -then u.s. grant of illinois who ruled with sword and pen -and hayes, and garfield who was shot, two noble buckeye men -chester arthur from new york, and grover cleveland came -ben harrison served just four years, then cleveland ruled again - -mckinley--shot at buffalo--the nation plunged in grief -and "teddy" roosevelt of new york served seven years as chief -taft of ohio followed him. then woodrow wilson came -new jersey's learned democrat; war set the world aflame - -and when the tide of strife and hate its baneful course had run -the country went republican and warren harding won -no duty would he shirk,--he died while on a western trip -coolidge of massachusetts then assumed the leadership - - - -and annie and willie had crept into bed -there were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes -and each little bosom was heaving with sighs -for to-night their stern father's command had been given -that they should retire precisely at seven -instead of at eight; for they troubled him more -with questions unheard of than ever before -he had told them he thought this delusion a sin -no such being as santa claus ever had been -and he hoped, after this, he should never more hear -how he scrambled down chimneys with presents, each year -and this was the reason that two little heads -so restlessly tossed on their soft downy beds - -eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten -not a word had been spoken by either till then -when willie's sad face from the blanket did peep -and whispered, "dear annie, is oo fast asleep -for somehow, it makes me so sorry because -dear papa has said there is no santa claus -now we know there is, and it can't be denied -for he came every year before mamma died -but then i've been thinking that she used to pray -and god would hear everything mamma would say -and perhaps she asked him to send santa claus here -with the sacks full of presents he brought every year -and ask him to send him with presents aden -four little bare feet bounded out on the floor -and four little knees the soft carpet pressed -and two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast -that the presents we ask for we're sure to receive -you must wait just as still till i say the 'amen -and by that you will know that your turn has come then -dear jesus, look down on my brother and me -and grant as the favor we are asking of thee -i want a wax dolly, a tea-set and ring -and an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring -bless papa, dear jesus, and cause him to see -that santa claus loves us far better than he -don't let him get fretful and angry again -at dear brother willie, and annie, amen -and bing us some pesents before it is 'ight -i want he should div me a nice ittle sed -with bight, shiny unners, and all painted yed -a box full of tandy, a book and a toy -amen--and then desus, i'll be a dood boy -their prayers being ended they raised up their heads -and with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds -they were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep -and with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep - -eight, nine, and the little french clock had struck ten -ere the father had thought of his children again -he seems now to hear annie's half suppressed sighs -and to see the big tears stand in willie's blue eyes -but then i was troubled,--my feelings found vent -for bank-stock to-day has gone down ten per cent -but of course they've forgotten their troubles ere this -and that i denied them the thrice asked-for kiss -but just to make sure i'll steal up to their door -for i never spoke harsh to my darlings before -so saying, he softly ascended the stairs -and arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers -his annie's "bless papa" draws forth the big tears -and willie's grave promise falls sweet on his ears -i'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said - -then he turned to the stairs, and softly went down -threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing-gown -donned hat, coat, and boots, and was out in the street -a millionaire facing the cold driving sleet -nor stopped he until he had bought everything -from the box full of candy to the tiny gold ring -indeed he kept adding so much to his store -that the various presents outnumbered a score -then homeward he turned with his holiday load -and with aunt mary's aid in the nursery 'twas stowed -miss dolly was seated beneath a pine-tree -by the side of a table spread out for a tea -a work-box well filled in the centre was laid -and on it the ring for which annie had prayed -a soldier in uniform stood by a sled -with bright shining runners, and all painted red -there were balls, dogs and horses, books pleasing to see -and birds of all colors--were perched in the tree -while santa claus, laughing, stood up in the top -as if getting ready more presents to drop -and as the fond father the picture surveyed -he thought for his trouble he had amply been paid -and he said to himself as he brushed off a tear -i've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before -what care i if bank-stocks fall ten per cent more -hereafter i'll make it a rule, i believe -to have santa claus visit us each christmas eve -so thinking he gently extinguished the light -and tripped down the stairs to retire for the night - -as soon as the beams of the bright morning sun -put the darkness to flight, and the stars, one by one -four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide -and at the same moment the presents espied -then out of their beds they sprang with a bound -and the very gifts prayed for were all of them found -they laughed and they cried in their innocent glee -and shouted for papa to come quick and see -what presents old santa claus brought in the night -while dear little willie climbed up on his knee -determined no secret between them should be -and told in soft whispers how annie had said -that their blessed mamma, so long ago dead -used to kneel down and pray by the side of her chair -and that god, up in heaven, had answered her prayer -and dod answered our payers; now wasn't he dood - -and knew just what presents my children would please -well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf - -blind father! who caused your proud heart to relent -and the hasty word spoken so soon to repent -and made you his agent to answer their prayers - - - -i wandered lonely where the pine-trees made -against the bitter east their barricade -and, guided by its sweet -perfume, i found, within a narrow dell -the trailing spring flower tinted like a shell -amid dry leaves and mosses at my feet - -from under dead boughs, for whose loss the pines -moaned ceaseless overhead, the blossoming vines -lifted their glad surprise -while yet the bluebird smoothed in leafless trees -his feathers ruffled by the chill sea-breeze -and snow-drifts lingered under april skies - -as, pausing, o'er the lonely flower i bent -i thought of lives thus lowly clogged and pent -which yet find room -through care and cumber, coldness and decay -to lend a sweetness to the ungenial day -and make the sad earth happier for their bloom - - - -tho' yer lamp o' life is burnin' with a clear and steady light -an' it never seems ter flicker, but it's allers shinin' bright -tho' it sheds its rays unbroken for a thousand happy days -father time is ever turnin' down the wick that feeds yer blaze -so it clearly is yer duty ef you've got a thing to do -ter put yer shoulder to ther wheel an' try to push her through -ef yer upon a wayward track you better turn about -you've lost ther chance to do it -when the -light - -speak kindly to the woman who is working fer yer praise -ther same way as you used ter in those happy courtin' days -she likes appreciation just the same ez me an' you -and it's only right and proper that yer give her what is due -don't wait until her lamp o' life is burnin' dim an' low -afore you tell her what you orter told her long ago -now's ther time ter cheer her up an' put her blues to rout -you've lost ther chance to do it -when the -light - -don't keep a-puttin' matters off an' settin' dates ahead -to-morrow's sun'll find a hundred thousand of us dead -don't think because yer feelin well you won't be sick no more -sometimes the reddest pippin has a worm-hole to the core -don't let a killin' habit grow upon you soft and still -because you think thet you ken throw it from you at your will -now's ther time ter quit it when yer feelin' brave an' stout -you've lost ther chance to do it -when the -light - -i'd rather die with nothin' then ter hev ther people say -that i had got my money in a robbin', graspin' way -no words above my restin' place from any tongue or pen -would hev a deeper meanin' than "he helped his fellow-men -so ef you hev a fortune and you want to help the poor -don't keep a-stavin' off until yon get a little more -ef yer upon a miser's track you better turn about -yer record keeps on burnin -when the -light - - - -an old lady sat in her old arm-chair -with wrinkled visage and disheveled hair -and pale and hunger-worn features -for days and for weeks her only fare -as she sat there in her old arm-chair -had been potatoes - -but now they were gone; of bad or good -not one was left for the old lady's food -of those potatoes -and she sighed and said, "what shall i do -where shall i send, and to whom shall i go -for more potatoes - -and she thought of the deacon over the way -the deacon so ready to worship and pray -whose cellar was full of potatoes -and she said: "i will send for the deacon to come -he'll not mind much to give me some -of such a store of potatoes - -and the deacon came over as fast as he could -thinking to do the old lady some good -but never thought of potatoes -he asked her at once what was her chief want -and she, simple soul, expecting a grant -immediately answered, "potatoes - -but the deacon's religion didn't lie that way -he was more accustomed to preach and pray -than to give of his hoarded potatoes -so, not hearing, of course, what the old lady said -he rose to pray with uncovered head -but _she_ only thought of potatoes - -he prayed for patience, and wisdom, and grace -but when he prayed, "lord, give her peace -she audibly sighed "give potatoes -and at the end of each prayer which he said -he heard, or thought that he heard in its stead -the same request for potatoes - -the deacon was troubled; knew not what to do -about "those carnal potatoes -so, ending his prayer, he started for home -as the door closed behind him, he heard a deep groan - -and that groan followed him all the way home -in the midst of the night it haunted his room -he could bear it no longer; arose and dressed -from his well-filled cellar taking in haste -a bag of his best potatoes - -again he went to the widow's lone hut -her sleepless eyes she had not shut -but there she sat in that old arm-chair -with the same wan features, the same sad air -and, entering in, he poured on the floor -a bushel or more from his goodly store -of choicest potatoes - -the widow's cup was running o'er -her face was haggard and wan no more -and he kneeled him down on the sanded floor -where he had poured his goodly store -and such a prayer the deacon prayed -as never before his lips essayed -no longer embarrassed, but free and full -he poured out the voice of a liberal soul -and the widow responded aloud "amen -but spake no more of potatoes - -and would you, who hear this simple tale -pray for the poor, and praying, "prevail -then preface your prayers with alms and good deeds -search out the poor, their wants and their needs -pray for peace, and grace, and spiritual food -for wisdom and guidance,-for all these are good - - - -three little words you often see -are articles _a_, _an_, and _the -a noun's the name of anything -as _house_ or _garden_, _hoop_ or _swing -instead of nouns the pronouns stand -adjectives tell the kind of noun -as _great_, _small_, _pretty_, _white_ or _brown -verbs tell something to be done -to _read_, _count_, _sing_, _laugh_ or _run -how things are done the adverbs tell -as _slowly_, _quickly_, _ill_ or _well -conjunctions join the words together -as men _and_ women, wind _or_ weather -the preposition stands before -a noun, as _in_ or _through_ a door -the interjection shows surprise -as _oh!_ how pretty, _ah!_ how wise -the whole are called nine parts of speech -which reading, writing, speaking teach - - -he came to my desk with, quivering lip -the lesson was done -i took the old leaf, stained and blotted -and gave him a new one all unspotted -and into his sad eyes smiled - -i went to the throne with a quivering soul -the old year was done -i have spoiled this one -he took the old leaf, stained and blotted -and gave me a new one all unspotted -and into my sad heart smiled - - - -how are you hoeing your row, my boy -say, how are you hoeing your row -do you hoe it fair -do you hoe it square -do you hoe it the best that you know -do you cut out the weeds as you ought to do -do you plant what is beautiful there -for the harvest, you know -will be just what you sow -are you working it on the square - -say, are you killing the weeds, my boy -are you hoeing your row neat and clean -are you going straight -at a hustling gait -are you cutting out all that is mean -do you whistle and sing as you toil along -are you finding your work a delight -if you do it this way -you will gladden the day -and your row will be tended right - -hoeing your row with a will, my boy -and giving it thought and care -will insure success -and your efforts bless -as the crop to the garner you bear -for the world will look on as you hoe your row -and will judge you by that which you do -therefore, try for first prize -though your utmost it tries -for the harvest depends on you - - - -fling it from mast and steeple -symbol o'er land and sea -of the life of a happy people -gallant and strong and free -proudly we view its colors -flag of the brave and true -with the clustered stars and the steadfast bars -the red, the white, and the blue - -flag of the fearless-hearted -flag of the broken chain -flag in a day-dawn started -never to pale or wane -dearly we prize its colors -with the heaven light breaking through -the clustered stars and the steadfast bars -the red, the white, and the blue - -flag of the sturdy fathers -flag of the loyal sons -beneath its folds it gathers -earth's best and noblest ones -boldly we wave its colors -our veins are thrilled anew -by the steadfast bars, the clustered stars -the red, the white, and the blue - - - -hey! little evergreens -sturdy and strong -summer and autumn-time -hasten along -harvest the sunbeams, then -bind them in sheaves -range them and change them -to tufts of green leaves -delve in the mellow-mold -far, far below -and so -little evergreens, grow -grow! grow -grow, little evergreens, grow - -up, up so airily -to the blue sky -lift up your leafy tips -stately and high -clasp tight your tiny cones -tawny and brown -by and by buffeting -rains will pelt down -by and by bitterly -chill winds will blow -and so -little evergreens, grow -grow! grow -grow, little evergreens, grow - -gather all uttermost -beauty, because -hark, till i tell it now -how santa claus -out of the northern land -over the seas -soon shall come seeking you -evergreen trees -seek you with reindeer soon -over the snow -and so -little evergreens, grow -grow! grow -grow, little evergreens, grow - -what if the maple flare -flaunting and red -you shall wear waxen white -taper instead -what if now, otherwhere -birds are beguiled -you shall yet nestle -the little christ-child -ah! the strange splendor -the fir-trees shall know -and so -little evergreens, grow -grow! grow -grow, little evergreens, grow - - - -the sun's heat will give out in ten million years more -and he worried about it -it will sure give out then, if it doesn't before -and he worried about it -it will surely give out, so the scientists said -in all scientifical books he had read -and the whole boundless universe then will be dead -and he worried about it - -and some day the earth will fall into the sun -and he worried about it -just as sure and as straight as if shot from a gun -and he worried about it -when strong gravitation unbuckles her straps -it will come in a few million ages, perhaps -and he worried about it - -and the earth will become much too small for the race -and he worried about it -when we'll pay thirty dollars an inch for pure space -and he worried about it -the earth will be crowded so much, without doubt -that there won't be room for one's tongue to stick out -nor room for one's thought to wander about -and he worried about it - -and the gulf stream will curve, and new england grow torrider -and he worried about it -than was ever the climate of southernmost florida -and he worried about it -our ice crop will be knocked into small smithereens -and crocodiles block up our mowing-machines -and we'll lose our fine crops of potatoes and beans -and he worried about it - -and in less than ten thousand years, there's no doubt -and he worried about it -our supply of lumber and coal will give out -and he worried about it -just then the ice-age will return cold and raw -frozen men will stand stiff with arms outstretched in awe -as if vainly beseeching a general thaw -and he worried about it - -his wife took in washing--half a dollar a day -he didn't worry about it -his daughter sewed shirts the rude grocer to pay -he didn't worry about it -while his wife beat her tireless rub-a-dub-dub -on the washboard drum of her old wooden tub -he sat by the stoves and he just let her rub -he didn't worry about it - - - -no gilt or tinsel taints the dress -of him who holds the natal power -no weighty helmet's fastenings press -on brow that shares columbia's dower -no blaring trumpets mark the step -of him with mind on peace intent -and so--hats off! here comes the state -a modest king - -no cavalcade with galloping squads -surrounds this man, whose mind controls -the actions of the million minds -whose hearts the starry banner folds -instead, in simple garb he rides -the king to whom grim fate has lent -her dower of righteousness and faith -to guide his will - -the ancient lands are struck with awe -here stands a power at which they scoffed -kings, rulers, scribes of pristine states -are dazed,--at columbia they mocked -yet human wills have forged new states -their wills on justice full intent -and fashioned here a lowly king -the people's choice - -war-ravaged, spent, and torn--old worlds -with hatred rent, turn to the west -on every side our kingdom's pressed -and see! columbia hastens forth -her healing hand to peace is lent -her sword unsheathed has forged the calm -her sons sent by - -full many a storm has tossed the barque -since first it had its maiden trip -full many a conflagration's spark -has scorched and seared the laboring ship -and yet it ploughs a straightway course -through wrack of billows; wind-tossed, spent -on sails the troubled ship of state -steered forward by - -stand up! hats off! he's coming by -no roll of drums peals at his course -now give a cheer! he's part of you -your will with his: the nation's force -and--as he passes--breathe a prayer -may justice to his mind be lent -and may the grace of heaven be with -the man who rules - - - -sleepy little, creepy little goblins in the gloaming -with their airy little, fairy little faces all aglow -winking little, blinking little brownies gone a-roaming -hear the rustling little, bustling little footfalls as they go -laughing little, chaffing little voices sweetly singing -in the dearest little, queerest little baby lullabies -creep! creep! creep -time to go to sleep -baby playing 'possum with his big brown eyes - -cricket in the thicket with the oddest little clatter -sings his rattling little, prattling little, tattling little tune -fleet the feet of tiny stars go patter, patter, patter -as they scamper from the heavens at the rising of the moon -beaming little, gleaming little fireflies go dreaming -to the dearest little, queerest little baby lullabies -creep! creep! creep -time to go to sleep -baby playing 'possum with his big brown eyes - -quaking little, shaking little voices all a-quiver -in the mushy little, rushy little, weedy, reedy bogs -droning little, moaning little chorus by the river -in the croaking little, joking little cadence of the frogs -eerie little, cheery little glowworms in the gloaming -where the clover heads like fairy little nightcaps rise -creep! creep! creep -time to go to sleep -baby playing 'possum with his big brown eyes - - - -if we should be shipwrecked together -and only had water for one -and it was the hottest of weather -right out in the boiling sun -he'd tell me--no matter how bad he -might want it--to take a drink first -and then he would smile--oh, so glad he -had saved me!--and perish from thirst - -or, if we were lost on the prairie -and only had food for a day -he'd come and would give me the share he -had wrapped up and hidden away -and after i ate it with sadness -he'd smile with his very last breath -and lay himself down full of gladness -to save me--and starve right to death - -and if i was wounded in battle -and out where great danger might be -he'd come through the roar and the rattle -of guns and of bullets to me -he'd carry me out, full of glory -no matter what trouble he had -and then he would fall down, all gory -with wounds, and would die--but be glad - -we're chums--that's the reason he'd do it -and that's what a chum ought to be -and if it was fire he'd go through it -if i should call him to me -you see other fellows may know you -and friends that you have go and come -but a boy has one boy he can go to -for help all the time--that's his chum - - - -jim brady's big brother's a wonderful lad -and wonderful, wonderful muscles he had -he swung by one arm from the limb of a tree -and hung there while jim counted up forty-three -just as slow as he could; and he leaped at a bound -across a wide creek and lit square on the ground -just as light as a deer; and the things he can do -so jimmy told us, you would hardly think true - -jim brady's big brother could throw a fly ball -from center to home just like nothing at all -and often while playing a game he would stand -and take a high fly with just only one hand -jim brady showed us where he knocked a home run -and won the big game when it stood three to one -against the home team, and jim brady, he showed -the place where it lit in the old wagon road - -jim brady's big brother could bat up a fly -that you hardly could see, for it went up so high -he'd bring up his muscle and break any string -that you tied on his arm like it wasn't a thing -he used to turn handsprings, and cartwheels, and he -could jump through his hands just as slick as could be -and circuses often would want him to go -and be in the ring, but his mother said no - -jim brady's big brother would often make bets -with boys that he'd turn two complete summersets -from off of the spring-board before he would dive -and you'd hardly think he would come up alive -and nobody else who went there to swim -could do it, but it was just easy for him -and they'd all be scared, so jim said, when he'd stay -in under and come up a half mile away - -jim brady's big brother, so jim said, could run -five miles in a race just as easy as one -right often he walked on his hands half a block -and could have walked more if he'd wanted to walk -and jimmy says wait till he comes home from school -where he is gone now, and some day, when it's cool -he'll get him to prove everything to be true -that jimmy told us his big brother could do - - - -is my little lad, my elihu -a-sailing with your ship -the sailor's eyes were dim with dew -he said with trembling lip - -another such a one as he -what little lad, do you say -why, elihu, that took to the sea -the moment i put him off my knee -it was just the other day -the _gray swan_ sailed away - -stood open with a great surprise -his heart began in his throat to rise -the jacket he had on - -with her anchor clutching hold of the sand -for a month, and never stir -like a lover kissing his lady's hand -the wild sea kissing her -a sight to remember, sir - -all this was twenty years ago -i stood on the _gray swan's_ deck -and to that lad i saw you throw -taking it off, as it might be, so -the kerchief from your neck - -that has made you sick and made you sad -sail with the _gray swan's_ crew -the best boy ever mother had -be sure he sailed with the crew -what would you have him do - -nor sent you word, nor made you sign -to say he was alive -besides, he may be in the brine -and could he write from the grave -tut, man, what would you have - -but if the lad still live -and come back home, think you you can -forgive him?"--"miserable man -you're mad as the sea,--you rave -what have i to forgive - -the sailor twitched his shirt so blue -and from within his bosom drew -the kerchief. she was wild -my little lad, my elihu -my blessed boy, my child -my dead,--my living child - - - - -the joys of living wreathe my face -my heart keeps time to freshet's race -of balmy airs i drink my fill -why, there's a yellow daffodil -along the stream a soft green tinge -gives hint of feathery willow fringe -methinks i heard a robin's "cheer -i'm glad spring's here - - -an afternoon of buzzing flies -heat waves that sear, and quivering rise -the long white road, the plodding team -the deep, cool grass in which to dream -the distant cawing of the crows -tall, waving grain, long orchard rows -the peaceful cattle in the stream -midsummer's dream - - -a cold, gray day, a lowering sky -a lonesome pigeon wheeling by -the soft, blue smoke that hangs and fades -the shivering crane that flaps and wades -dead leaves that, whispering, quit their tree -the peace the river sings to me -the chill aloofness of the fall -i love it all - - -a sheet of ice, the ring of steel -the crunch of snow beneath the heel -loud, jingling bells, the straw-lined sleigh -a restless pair that prance and neigh -the early coming of the night -red glowing logs, a shaded light -the firelit realm of books is mine -oh, winter's fine - - - - - -hamelin town's in brunswick -by famous hanover city -the river weser, deep and wide -washes its wall on the southern side -a pleasanter spot you never spied -but, when begins my ditty -almost five hundred years ago -to see the townsfolk suffer so -from vermin, was a pity - - -they fought the dogs and killed the cats -and bit the babies in the cradles -and ate the cheeses out of the vats -and licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles -split open the kegs of salted sprats -made nests inside men's sunday hats -and even spoiled the women's chats -by drowning their speaking -with shrieking and squeaking -in fifty different sharps and flats - - -at last the people in a body -to the town hall came flocking -and as for our corporation--shocking -to think we buy gowns lined with ermine -for dolts that can't or won't determine -what's best to rid us of our vermin -you hope, because you're old and obese -to find in the furry civic robe ease -rouse up, sirs! give your brains a racking -to find the remedy we're lacking -or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing -at this the mayor and corporation -quaked with a mighty consternation - - -an hour they sat in council -at length the mayor broke silence -i wish i were a mile hence -it's easy to bid one rack one's brain -i'm sure my poor head aches again -i've scratched it so, and all in vain -oh, for a trap, a trap, a trap -just as he said this, what should hap -at the chamber-door but a gentle tap -looking little though wondrous fat -nor brighter was his eye, nor moister -than a too-long-opened oyster -save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous -for a plate of turtle green and glutinous -anything like the sound of a rat -makes my heart go pit-a-pat - - -and in did come the strangest figure -his queer long coat from heel to head -was half of yellow and half of red -and he himself was tall and thin -with sharp blue eyes, each like a pin -and light loose hair, yet swarthy skin -no tuft on cheek nor beard on chin -but lips where smiles went out and in -there was no guessing his kith and kin -and nobody could enough admire -the tall man and his quaint attire -quoth one: "it's as my great-grandsire -starting up at the trump of doom's tone -had walked this way from his painted tombstone - - -he advanced to the council-table -and, "please your honours," said he, "i'm able -by means of a secret charm, to draw -all creatures living beneath the sun -that creep or swim or fly or run -after me so as you never saw -and i chiefly use my charm -on creatures that do people harm -the mole and toad and newt and viper -and people call me the pied piper -a scarf of red and yellow stripe -to match with his coat of the self-same cheque -and at the scarf's end hung a pipe -and his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying -as if impatient to be playing -upon this pipe, as low it dangled -over his vesture so old-fangled -in tartary i freed the cham -last june, from his huge swarms of gnats -i eased in asia the nizam -of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats -and as for what your brain bewilders -if i can rid your town of rats -will you give me a thousand guilders -of the astonished mayor and corporation - - -into the street the piper stept -smiling first a little smile -as if he knew what magic slept -in his quiet pipe the while -then, like a musical adept -to blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled -and green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled -like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled -and ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered -you heard as if an army muttered -and the muttering grew to a grumbling -and the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling -and out of the houses the rats came tumbling -great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats -brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats -grave old plodders, gay young friskers -fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins -cocking tails and pricking whiskers -families by tens and dozens -brothers, sisters, husbands, wives -followed the piper for their lives -from street to street he piped advancing -and step for step they followed dancing -until they came to the river weser -wherein all plunged and perished -swam across and lived to carry -to rat-land home his commentary -which was, "at the first shrill notes of the pipe -i heard a sound as of scraping tripe -and putting apples, wondrous ripe -into a cider-press's gripe -and a moving away of pickle-tub-boards -and a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards -and a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks -and a breaking the hoops of butter-casks -and it seemed as if a voice -is breathed) called out, 'oh, rats, rejoice -the world is grown to one vast drysaltery -so munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon -breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon -and just as a bulky sugar-puncheon -all ready staved, like a great sun shone -glorious scarce an inch before me -just as methought it said, 'come, bore me - - -you should have heard the hamelin people -ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple -poke out the nests and block up the holes -consult with carpenters and builders -and leave in our town not even a trace -of the rats!"--when suddenly, up the face -of the piper perked in the market-place -with a, "first, if you please, my thousand guilders - - -a thousand guilders! the mayor looked blue -so did the corporation, too -for council dinners made rare havoc -with claret, moselle, vin-de-grave, hock -and half the money would replenish -their cellar's biggest butt with rhenish -to pay this sum to a wandering fellow -with a gypsy coat of red and yellow -we saw with our eyes the vermin sink -and what's dead can't come to life, i think -so, friend, we're not the folks to shrink -from the duty of giving you something for drink -and a matter of money to put in your poke -but as for the guilders, what we spoke -of them, as you very well know, was in joke -beside, our losses have made us thrifty -a thousand guilders! come, take fifty - - -the piper's face fell, and he cried -i've promised to visit by dinner-time -bagdat, and accept the prime -of the head-cook's pottage, all he's rich in -for having left, in the caliph's kitchen -of a nest of scorpions no survivor -with him i proved no bargain-driver -with you, don't think i'll bate a stiver -and folks who put me in a passion -may find me pipe after another fashion - - -being worse treated than a cook -insulted by a lazy ribald -with idle pipe and vesture piebald -you threaten us, fellow? do your worst -blow your pipe there till you burst - - -once more he stept into the street -and to his lips again -laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane -and ere he blew three notes (such sweet -soft notes as yet musician's cunning -never gave the enraptured air -there was a rustling that seemed like a bustling -of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling -small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering -little hands clapping and little tongues chattering -and, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering -out came the children running -all the little boys and girls -with rosy cheeks and flaxen curls -and sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls -tripping and skipping, ran merrily after -the wonderful music with shouting and laughter - - -the mayor was dumb, and the council stood -as if they were changed into blocks of wood -unable to move a step, or cry -to the children merrily skipping by -that joyous crowd at the piper's back -but how the mayor was on the rack -and the wretched council's bosoms beat -as the piper turned from the high street -to where the weser rolled its waters -right in the way of their sons and daughters -however, he turned from south to west -and to koppelberg hill his steps addressed -and after him the children pressed -great was the joy in every breast -he's forced to let the piping drop -and we shall see our children stop -when, lo, as they reached the mountainside -a wondrous portal opened wide -as if a cavern was suddenly hollowed -and the piper advanced and the children followed -and when all were in to the very last -the door in the mountainside shut fast -did i say, all? no! one was lame -and could not dance the whole of the way -and in after years, if you would blame -his sadness, he was used to say -i can't forget that i'm bereft -of all the pleasant sights they see -which the piper also promised me -for he led us, he said, to a joyous land -joining the town and just at hand -where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew -and flowers put forth a fairer hue -and everything was strange and new -the sparrows were brighter than peacocks here -and their dogs outran our fallow deer -and honey-bees had lost their stings -and horses were born with eagles' wings -and just as i became assured -my lame foot would be speedily cured -the music stopped and i stood still -and found myself outside the hill -left alone against my will -to go now limping as before -and never hear of that country more - - -alas, alas for hamelin -there came into many a burgher's pate -a text which says that heaven's gate -opes to the rich at as easy rate -as the needle's eye takes a camel in -the mayor sent east, west, north, and south -to offer the piper, by word of mouth -wherever it was men's lot to find him -silver and gold to his heart's content -if he'd only return the way he went -and bring the children behind him -but when they saw 'twas a lost endeavour -and piper and dancers were gone for ever -they made a decree that lawyers never -should think their records dated duly -if, after the day of the month and year -these words did not as well appear -on the twenty-second of july -thirteen hundred and seventy-six -and the better in memory to fix -the place of the children's last retreat -they called it, the pied piper's street -where any one playing on pipe or tabour -was sure for the future to lose his labour -nor suffered they hostelry or tavern -to shock with mirth a street so solemn -but opposite the place of the cavern -they wrote the story on a column -and on the great church-window painted -the same, to make the world acquainted -how their children were stolen away -and there it stands to this very day -and i must not omit to say -that in transylvania there's a tribe -of alien people who ascribe -the outlandish ways and dress -on which their neighbours lay such stress -to their fathers and mothers having risen -out of some subterraneous prison -into which they were trepanned -long time ago in a mighty band -out of hamelin town in brunswick land -but how or why, they don't understand - - -so, willy, let me and you be wipers -of scores out with all men--especially pipers -and, whether they pipe us free fróm rats or fróm mice -if we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise - - - -on the sea and at the hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two -did the english fight the french,--woe to france -and, the thirty-first of may, helter-skelter through the blue -like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue -came crowding ship on ship to saint malo on the rance -with the english fleet in view - - -first and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, damfreville -close on him fled, great and small -twenty-two good ships in all -and they signalled to the place -get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick--or, quicker still -here's the english can and will - - -then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board -laughed they -and scored -shall the _formidable_ here with her twelve and eighty guns -think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way -trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons -and with flow at full beside -now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide -reach the mooring? rather say -while rock stands or water runs -not a ship will leave the bay - - -then was called a council straight -brief and bitter the debate -all that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow -for a prize to plymouth sound -better run the ships aground -let the captains all and each -shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach -france must undergo her fate - - -was ever spoke or heard -for up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these -no such man of mark, and meet -with his betters to compete -but a simple breton sailor pressed by tourville for the fleet -a poor coasting-pilot he, hervé riel the croisickese - - -and "what mockery or malice have we here?" cries hervé riel -talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell -on my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell -are you bought by english gold? is it love the lying's for -morn and eve, night and day -have i piloted your bay -entered free and anchored fast at the foot of solidor -burn the fleet and ruin france? that were worse than fifty hogues -sirs, they know i speak the truth! sirs, believe me there's a way -only let me lead the line -have the biggest ship to steer -get this _formidable_ clear -make the others follow mine -and i lead them, most and least, by a passage i know well -right to solidor past grève -and there lay them safe and sound -and if one ship misbehave -why, i've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries hervé riel - - -not a minute more to wait -take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief -captains, give the sailor place -he is admiral, in brief -still the north wind, by god's grace -see the noble fellow's face -as the big ship, with a bound -clears the entry like a hound -keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound -see, safe through shoal and rock -how they follow in a flock -not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground -not a spar that comes to grief -the peril, see, is past -all are harboured to the last -and just as hervé riel hollas "anchor!"--sure as fate -up the english come--too late - - -so, the storm subsides to calm -they see the green trees wave -on the heights o'erlooking grève -hearts that bled are stanched with balm -let the english rake the bay -gnash their teeth and glare askance -as they cannonade away -how hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance -out burst all with one accord -let france, let france's king -thank the man that did the thing -what a shout, and all one word -as he stepped in front once more -not a symptom of surprise -in the frank blue breton eyes -just the same man as before - - -then said damfreville, "my friend -i must speak out at the end -though i find the speaking hard -praise is deeper than the lips -you have saved the king his ships -you must name your own reward -demand whate'er you will -france remains your debtor still -ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not damfreville - - -then a beam of fun outbroke -on the bearded mouth that spoke -as the honest heart laughed through -those frank eyes of breton blue -since on board the duty's done -and from malo roads to croisic point, what is it but a run -since 'tis ask and have, i may -since the others go ashore -come! a good whole holiday -leave to go and see my wife, whom i call the belle aurore -that he asked and that he got,--nothing more - - -name and deed alike are lost -not a pillar nor a post -in his croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell -not a head in white and black -on a single fishing-smack -in memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack -all that france saved from the fight whence england bore the bell -go to paris: rank on rank -search the heroes flung pell-mell -on the louvre, face and flank -you shall look long enough ere you come to hervé riel -so, for better and for worse -hervé riel, accept my verse -in my verse, hervé riel, do thou once more -save the squadron, honour france, love thy wife the belle aurore - - - - -kentish sir byng stood for his king -bidding the crop-headed parliament swing -and, pressing a troop unable to stoop -and see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop -marched them along, fifty-score strong -great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song - -god for king charles! pym and such carles -to the devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles -cavaliers, up! lips from the cup -hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup -till you're - -chorus.--marching along, fifty-score strong -great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song - -hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell -serve hazelrig, fiennes, and young harry as well -england, good cheer! rupert is near -kentish and loyalists, keep we not here - -cho.--marching along, fifty-score strong -great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song - -then, god for king charles! pym and his snarls -to the devil that pricks on such pestilent carles -hold by the right, you double your might -so, onward to nottingham, fresh for the fight - -cho.--march we along, fifty-score strong -great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song - - -king charles, and who'll do him right now -king charles, and who's ripe for fight now -give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now -king charles - -who gave me the goods that went since -who raised me the house that sank once -who helped me to gold i spent since -who found me in wine you drank once - -cho.--king charles, and who'll do him right now -king charles, and who's ripe for fight now -give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now -king charles - -to whom used my boy george quaff else -by the old fool's side that begot him -for whom did he cheer and laugh else -while noll's damned troopers shot him - -cho.--king charles, and who'll do him right now -king charles, and who's ripe for fight now -give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now -king charles - - -boot, saddle, to horse, and away -rescue my castle before the hot day -brightens to blue from its silvery gray - -cho.--"boot, saddle, to horse, and away - -ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say -many's the friend there, will listen and pray - -cho.--"boot, saddle, to horse, and away - -forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay -flouts castle brancepeth the roundheads' array -who laughs, "good fellows ere this, by my fay - -cho.--"boot, saddle, to horse, and away - -who? my wife gertrude; that, honest and gay -laughs when you talk of surrendering, "nay -i've better counsellors; what counsel they - -cho.--"boot, saddle, to horse and away - - - -i sprang to the stirrup, and joris, and he -i galloped, dirck galloped, we galloped all three -behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest -and into the midnight we galloped abreast - -not a word to each other; we kept the great pace -neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place -i turned in my saddle and made its girths tight -then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right -rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit -nor galloped less steadily roland a whit - -lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear -at boom, a great yellow star came out to see -at düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be -and from mecheln church-steeple we heard the half chime -so joris broke silence with, "yet there is time - -at aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun -and against him the cattle stood black every one -to stare through the mist at us galloping past -and i saw my stout galloper roland at last -with resolute shoulders, each butting away -the haze, as some bluff river headland its spray - -and his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back -for my voice, and the other pricked out on his track -and one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance -o'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance -and the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon -his fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on - -by hasselt, dirck groaned; and cried joris, "stay spur -your roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her -we'll remember at aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze -of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees -and sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank -as down on her haunches she shuddered and sank -past looz and past tongres, no cloud in the sky -the broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh -till over by dalhem a dome-spire sprang white -and "gallop," gasped joris, "for aix is in sight - -rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone -and there was my roland to hear the whole weight -of the news which alone could save aix from her fate -with his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim -and with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim - -then i cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall -shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all -stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear -called my roland his pet-name, my horse without peer -clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good -till at length into aix roland galloped and stood - -and all i remember is--friends flocking round -as i sat with his head, 'twixt my knees on the ground -and no voice but was praising this roland of mine -as i poured down his throat our last measure of wine -which (the burgesses voted by common consent -was no more than his due who brought good news from ghent - - -as i ride, as i ride -with a full heart for my guide -so its tide rocks my side -as i ride, as i ride -that, as i were double-eyed -he, in whom our tribes confide -is descried, ways untried -as i ride, as i ride - -as i ride, as i ride -to our chief and his allied -who dares chide my heart's pride -as i ride, as i ride -or are witnesses denied -through the desert waste and wide -do i glide unespied -as i ride, as i ride - -as i ride, as i ride -when an inner voice has cried -the sands slide, nor abide -o'er each visioned homicide -that came vaunting (has he lied -to reside--where he died -as i ride, as i ride - -as i ride, as i ride -ne'er has spur my swift horse plied -yet his hide, streaked and pied -as i ride, as i ride -shows where sweat has sprung and dried -how has vied stride with stride -as i ride, as i ride - -as i ride, as i ride -could i loose what fate has tied -ere i pried, she should hide -all that's meant me--satisfied -when the prophet and the bride -stop veins i'd have subside -as i ride, as i ride - - - -you know, we french stormed ratisbon -a mile or so away -on a little mound, napoleon -stood on our storming-day -with neck out-thrust, you fancy how -legs wide, arms locked behind -as if to balance the prone brow -oppressive with its mind - -just as perhaps he mused "my plans -that soar, to earth may fall -let once my army-leader, lannes -waver at yonder wall -out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew -a rider, bound on bound -full-galloping; nor bridle drew -until he reached the mound - -then off there flung in smiling joy -and held himself erect -by just his horse's mane, a boy -you hardly could suspect -scarce any blood came through -you looked twice ere you saw his breast -was all but shot in two - -we've got you ratisbon -the marshal's in the market-place -and you'll be there anon -to see your flag-bird flap his vans -where i, to heart's desire -perched him!" the chief's eye flashed; his plans -soared up again like fire - -the chief's eye flashed; but presently -softened itself, as sheathes -a film the mother-eagle's eye -when her bruised eaglet breathes -touched to the quick, he said -smiling the boy fell dead - - -i and clive were friends--and why not? friends! i think you laugh -my lad -clive it was gave england india, while your father gives--egad -england nothing but the graceless boy who lures him on to speak -your cheek -very true: in my eyes, your eyes, all the world's eyes, clive was man -i was, am, and ever shall be--mouse, nay, mouse of all its clan -sorriest sample, if you take the kitchen's estimate for fame -while the man clive--he fought plassy, spoiled the clever foreign -conquered and annexed and englished - -never mind! as o'er my punch -black, unbroken,--thought grows busy, thrids each pathway of old -years -notes this forthright, that meander, till the long past life appears -like an outspread map of country plodded through, each mile and rood -once, and well remembered still,--i'm startled in my solitude -ever and anon by--what's the sudden mocking light that breaks -on me as i slap the table till no rummer-glass but shakes -while i ask--aloud, i do believe, god help me!--"was it thus -can it be that so i faltered, stopped when just one step for us -wealth were handy, honour ticklish, did no writing on the wall -warn me "trespasser, 'ware man-traps!" him who braves that -notice--call -hero! none of such heroics suit myself who read plain words -doff my hat, and leap no barrier. scripture says, the land's the -lord's -louts then--what avail the thousand, noisy in a smock-frocked ring -all-agog to have me trespass, clear the fence, be clive their king -higher warrant must you show me ere i set one foot before -t'other in that dark direction, though i stand for evermore -poor as job and meek as moses. evermore? no! by and by -don't object "why call him friend, then?" power is power, my boy -and still -marks a man,--god's gift magnific, exercised for good or ill -you've your boot now on my hearth-rug, tread what was a tiger's skin -rarely such a royal monster as i lodged the bullet in -true, he murdered half a village, so his own death came to pass -still, for size and beauty, cunning, courage--ah, the brute he was -why, that clive,--that youth, that greenhorn, that quill-driving -clerk, in fine -he sustained a siege in arcot ... but the world knows! pass the wine - -where did i break off at? how bring clive in? oh, you mentioned -just so: and, said i, that minds me of a story you shall hear - -we were friends then, clive and i: so, when the clouds, about the orb -late supreme, encroaching slowly, surely threaten to absorb -ray by ray its noontide brilliance,--friendship might, with -steadier eye -drawing near, hear what had burned else, now no blaze--all majesty -too much bee's-wing floats my figure? well, suppose a castle's new -none presume to climb its ramparts, none find foothold sure for shoe -as his scale-mail's warty iron cuirasses a crocodile -reels that castle thunder-smitten, storm-dismantled? from without -scrambling up by crack and crevice, every cockney prates about -towers--the heap he kicks now! turrets--just the measure of his cane -will that do? observe moreover--(same similitude again -such a castle seldom crumbles by sheer stress of cannonade -invade -grass o'ergrows, o'ergrows till night-birds congregating find no holes -fit to build like the topmost sockets made for banner-poles -so clive crumbled slow in london, crashed at last - -a week before -dining with him,--after trying churchyard chat of days of yore -both of us stopped, tired as tombstones, head-piece, foot-piece -when they lean -each to other, drowsed in fog-smoke, o'er a coffined past between -as i saw his head sink heavy, guessed the soul's extinguishment -by the glazing eyeball, noticed how the furtive fingers went -where a drug-box skulked behind the honest liquor,--"one more throw -try for clive!" thought i: "let's venture some good rattling -question!" so -years hence -when my boy--suppose i have one--asks me on what evidence -i maintain my friend of plassy proved a warrior every whit -worth your alexanders, cæsars, marlboroughs, and--what said pitt -frederick the fierce himself! clive told me once"--i want to say -which stood foremost as evincing what clive called courageousness -come! what moment of the minute, what speck-centre in the wide -circle of the action saw your mortal fairly deified -if a friend has leave to question,--when were you most brave -in short - -up he arched his brows o' the instant--formidably clive again -as another instance that's a brain-lodged crystal--curse it!--here -freezing when my memory touches--ugh!--the time i felt most fear -ugh! i cannot say for certain if i showed fear--anyhow -fear i felt, and, very likely, shuddered, since i shiver now - -ticket up in one's museum, _mind-freaks_, _lord clive's fear - -down his brows dropped. on the table painfully he pored as though -tracing, in the stains and streaks there, thoughts encrusted long ago -when he spoke 'twas like a lawyer reading word by word some will -some blind jungle of a statement,--beating on and on until -out there leaps fierce life to fight with - -desk-drudge, slaving at saint david's, one must game, or drink, or -craze -i chose gaming: and,--because your high-flown gamesters hardly take -umbrage at a factor's elbow, if the factor pays his stake -i was winked at in a circle where the company was choice -captain this and major that, men high of colour, loud of voice -yet indulgent, condescending to the modest juvenile -who not merely risked, but lost his hard-earned guineas with a smile - -homebody whose name's a secret--you'll know why--so, if you list -call him cock o' the walk, my scarlet son of mars from head to heel -play commenced: and, whether cocky fancied that a clerk must feel -quite sufficient honour came of bending over one green baize -i the scribe with him the warrior, guessed no penman dared to raise -shadow of objection should the honour stay but playing end -more or less abruptly,--whether disinclined he grew to spend -practice strictly scientific on a booby born to stare -at--not ask of--lace-and-ruffles if the hand they hide plays fair -anyhow, i marked a movement when he bade me 'cut - -what, you force a card, you cheat, sir - -cause emotion, startle thyrsis locked with chloe in his lap -as my word and gesture (down i flung my cards to join the pack -fired the man of arms, whose visage, simply red before, turned black - - - -busied with his all important balance of accounts, may deem -weighing words superfluous trouble: cheat to clerkly ears may seem -just the joke for friends to venture: but we are not friends, you see -when a gentleman is joked with,--if he's good at repartee -he rejoins, as do i--sirrah, on your knees, withdraw in full -beg my pardon, or be sure a kindly bullet through your skull -lets in light and teaches manner to what brain it finds -choose quick -have your life snuffed out or, kneeling, pray me trim yon -candle-wick - - -to his feet sprang each in fury, fists were clenched and teeth -were ground -no delay, begin and finish! stand back, leave the pair a space -let civilians be instructed: henceforth simply ply the pen -fly the sword! this clerk's no swordsman? suit him with a pistol -even odds! a dozen paces 'twixt the most and least expert -make a dwarf a giant's equal: nay, the dwarf, if he's alert -likelier hits the broader target - -as they handed me the weapon, such was my soul's thirst to try -then and there conclusions with this bully, tread on and stamp out -every spark of his existence, that,--crept close to, curled about -by that toying, tempting, teasing, fool-forefinger's middle joint -don't you guess?--the trigger yielded. gone my chance! and at -the point -of such prime success moreover: scarce an inch above his head -went my ball to hit the wainscot. he was living, i was dead - -just an arm's length. 'now, my clerkling,' chuckled cocky, with a grin -as the levelled piece quite touched me, 'now, sir counting-house -repeat -that expression which i told you proved bad manners! did i cheat - -as for me, my homely breeding bids you--fire and go to hell - -either spoils a steady lifting. thrice: then, 'laugh at hell who list -i can't! god's no fable either. did this boy's eye wink once? no -there's no standing him and hell and god all three against me,--so -i did cheat - -possibly, but, as for knowledge if by chimney, roof or floor -he effected disappearance--i'll engage no glance was sent -that way by a single starer, such a blank astonishment -swallowed up their senses: as for speaking--mute they stood as mice - -when his majesty's commission serves a sharper as pretext -for ... but where's the need of wasting time now? naught requires -delay -punishment the service cries for: let disgrace be wiped away -publicly, in good broad daylight! resignation? no, indeed -drum and fife must play the rogue's-march, rank and file be free -to speed -tardy marching on the rogue's part by appliance in the rear -mister clive, for--though a clerk--you bore yourself--suppose -we say -just as would beseem a soldier - -first, one word - -when i had precise their number, names, and styles, and fully knew -over whom my supervision thenceforth must extend,--why, then - -at the mercy of your friend there. not a single voice was raised -in arrest of judgment, not one tongue--before my powder blazed -ventured "can it be the youngster plundered, really seemed to mark -some irregular proceeding? we conjecture in the dark -guess at random,--still, for sake of fair play--what if for a freak -in a fit of absence,--such things have been!--if our friend -proved weak -at least -who dared interpose between the altar's victim and the priest -yet he spared me! you eleven! whosoever, all or each -to the disadvantage of the man who spared me, utters speech -me who promise, if positions change, and mine the chance should be -not to imitate your friend and waive advantage - -years ago this matter happened: and 'tis certain," added clive -breathed against him: lips were closed throughout his life, or since -his death -for if he be dead or living i can tell no more than you -all i know is--cocky had one chance more; how he used it,--grew -out of such unlucky habits, or relapsed, and back again -brought the late-ejected devil with a score more in his train -that's for you to judge. reprieval i procured, at any rate -ugh--the memory of that minute's fear makes gooseflesh rise! why prate -longer? you've my story, there's your instance: fear i did, you see - -wholly to your lordship's candour. not that--in a common case -when a bully caught at cheating thrusts a pistol in one's face -i should under-rate, believe me, such a trial to the nerve -fear i naturally look for--unless, of all men alive -i am forced to make exception when i come to robert clive -since at arcot, plassy, elsewhere, he and death--the whole world -knows -came to somewhat closer quarters - -quarters? had we come to blows -clive and i, you had not wondered--up he sprang so, out he rapped -such a round of oaths--no matter! i'll endeavour to adapt -to our modern usage words he--well, 'twas friendly license--flung -at me like so many fire-balls, fast as he could wag his tongue - -instantaneously occasion when your foe, if lightning-quick -undefended in your bulwark? thus laid open,--not to flinch -the man -checking his advance, his weapon still extended, not a span -distant from my temple,--curse him!--quietly had bade me, 'there -keep your life, calumniator!--worthless life i freely spare -mine you freely would have taken--murdered me and my good fame -both at once--and all the better! go, and thank your own bad aim -which permits me to forgive you!' what if, with such words as these -he had cast away his weapon? how should i have borne me, please -nay, i'll spare you pains and tell you. this, and only this -remained -pick his weapon up and use it on myself. if so had gained -sleep the earlier, leaving england probably to pay on still -rent and taxes for half india, tenant at the frenchman's will - -fear--i wish i could detect there: courage fronts me, plain enough -call it desperation, madness--never mind! for here's in rough -why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome disgrace -true, disgrace were hard to bear: but such a rush against god's face -say the creed my mother taught me! many years in foreign climes -rub some marks away--not all, though! we poor sinners reach -life's brink -overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but think -there's advantage in what's left us--ground to stand on, time to call - -oh, he made no answer, re-absorbed into his cloud. i caught -something like "yes--courage; only fools will call it fear - -if aught -comfort you, my great unhappy hero clive, in that i heard -next week, how your own hand dealt you doom, and uttered just the word -i'm no clive, nor parson either: clive's worst deed--we'll hope -condoned - - -if a stranger passed the tent of hóseyn, he cried "a churl's -or haply "god help the man who has neither salt nor bread -more than who spends small thought on the shore-sand, picking pearls -on his breast a moon-like prize, some orb which of night makes morn - -they went when his tribe was mulct, ten thousand camels the due -blood-value paid perforce for a murder done of old -muléykeh, peerless mare, owned master the match of you -and you are my prize, my pearl: i laugh at men's land and gold - -do the ten steeds run a race of glory? outstripping all -ever muléykeh stands first steed at the victor's staff -who started, the owner's hope, gets shamed and named, that day -whom the paddock's lord thrusts forth. right, hóseyn, i say -to laugh - -on him i waste nor scorn nor pity, but lavish both -on duhl the son of sheybán, who withers away in heart -for envy of hóseyn's luck. such sickness admits no cure -a certain poet has sung, and sealed the same with an oath - -lo, duhl the son of sheybán comes riding to hóseyn's tent -and he casts his saddle down, and enters and "peace!" bids he -in her purchase were scarce ill paid: such prudence is far from me -who proffer a thousand. speak! long parley may last too long - -said hóseyn, "you feed young beasts a many, of famous breed -slit-eared, unblemished, fat, true offspring of múzennem -there stumbles no weak-eyed she in the line as it climbs the hill -but i love muléykeh's face: her forefront whitens indeed -like a yellowish wave's cream-crest. your camels--go gaze on them -her fetlock is foam-splashed too. myself am the richer still - -a year goes by: lo, back to the tent again rides duhl -why should i speak of sale? be the mare your simple gift -my son is pined to death for her beauty: my wife prompts 'fool -beg for his sake the pearl! be god the rewarder, since -god pays debts seven for one: who squanders on him shows thrift - -said hóseyn, "god gives each man one life, like a lamp, then gives -that lamp due measure of oil: lamp lighted--hold high, wave wide -its comfort for others to share! once quench it, what help is left -the oil of your lamp is your son: i shine while muléykeh lives -would i beg your son to cheer my dark if muléykeh died -it is life against life: what good avails to the life-bereft - -another year, and--hist! what craft is it duhl designs -he alights not at the door of the tent as he did last time -but, creeping behind, he gropes his stealthy way by the trench -half-round till he finds the flap in the folding, for night combines -with the robber--and such is he: duhl, covetous up to crime -must wring from hóseyn's grasp the pearl, by whatever the wrench - -and a gibe was all my thanks. is he generous like spring dew -account the fault to me who chaffered with such an one -he has killed, to feast chance comers, the creature he rode -nay, more -for a couple of singing-girls his robe has he torn in two -i will beg! yet i nowise gained by the tale of my wife and son - -till i filch his pearl away. fair dealing i tried, then guile -and now i resort to force. he said we must live or die -let him die, then,--let me live! be bold--but not too rash -i have found me a peeping-place: breast, bury your breathing while -i explore for myself! now, breathe! he deceived me not, the spy - -stands tethered the pearl: thrice winds her headstall about his wrist -and, loose on his left, stands too that other, known far and wide -buhéyseh, her sister born: fleet is she yet ever missed -the winning tail's fire-flash a-stream past the thunderous heels - -thief -should enter and seize and fly with the first, as i mean to do -what then? the pearl is the pearl: once mount her we both escape -through the skirt-fold in glides duhl,--so a serpent disturbs no leaf -in a bush as he parts the twigs entwining a nest: clean through -he is noiselessly at his work: as he planned, he performs the rape - -he has set the tent-door wide, has buckled the girth, has clipped -the headstall away from the wrist he leaves thrice bound as before -he springs on the pearl, is launched on the desert like bolt from bow -up starts our plundered man: from his breast though the heart be -ripped -yet his mind has the mastery: behold, in a minute more -he is out and off and away on buhéyseh, whose worth we know - -and hóseyn--his blood turns flame, he has learned long since to ride -and buhéyseh does her part,--they gain--they are gaining fast -on the fugitive pair, and duhl has ed-dárraj to cross and quit -and to reach the ridge el-sabán,--no safety till that he spied -and buhéyseh is, bound by bound, but a horse-length off at last -for the pearl has missed the tap of the heel, the touch of the bit - -she shortens her stride, she chafes at her rider the strange and -queer -buhéyseh is mad with hope--beat sister she shall and must -though duhl, of the hand and heel so clumsy, she has to thank -she is near now, nose by tail--they are neck by croup--joy! fear -what folly makes hóseyn shout "dog duhl, damned son of the dust -touch the right ear and press with your foot my pearl's left flank - -and duhl was wise at the word, and muléykeh as prompt perceived -who was urging redoubled pace, and to hear him was to obey -and a leap indeed gave she, and evanished for evermore -and hóseyn looked one long last look as who, all bereaved -looks, fain to follow the dead so far as the living may -then he turned buhéyseh's neck slow homeward, weeping sore - -and, lo, in the sunrise, still sat hóseyn upon the ground -weeping: and neighbours came, the tribesmen of bénu-asád -in the vale of green er-rass, and they questioned him of his grief -and he told from first to last how, serpent-like, duhl had wound -his way to the nest, and how duhl rode like an ape, so bad -and how buhéyseh did wonders, yet pearl remained with the thief - -and they jeered him, one and all: "poor hóseyn is crazed past hope -how else had he wrought himself his ruin, in fortune's spite -to have simply held the tongue were a task for boy or girl -and here were muléykeh again, the eyed like an antelope -the child of his heart by day, the wife of his breast by night -my pearl - - -sing me a hero! quench my thirst -of soul, ye bards - -quoth bard the first -his helm and eke his habergeon -sir olaf and his bard - -my hero to some steep, beneath -which precipice smiled tempting death -you too without your host have reckoned - -sang to herself at careless play -and fell into the stream. 'dismay -help, you the standers-by!' none stirred - -and children ere they risk their lives -over the balustrade has bounced -a mere instinctive dog, and pounced -plumb on the prize. 'how well he dives - -in mouth, alive too, clutched from quite -a depth of ten feet--twelve, i bet -good dog! what, off again? there's yet -another child to save? all right - -it's instinct in the animal -good dog! but he's a long while under -if he got drowned i should not wonder -strong current, that against the wall - -now, did you ever? reason reigns -in man alone, since all tray's pains -have fished--the child's doll from the slime - -trotted my hero off,--old tray -till somebody, prerogatived -with reason, reasoned: 'why he dived -his brain would show us, i should say - -purchase--that animal for me -by vivisection, at expense -of half-an-hour and eighteenpence -how brain secretes dog's soul, we'll see - - -what a pretty tale you told me -once upon a time -was it prose or was it rhyme -greek or latin? greek, you said -while your shoulder propped my head - -anyhow there's no forgetting -this much if no more -that a poet (pray, no petting -yes, a bard, sir, famed of yore -went where suchlike used to go -singing for a prize, you know - -well, he had to sing, nor merely -sing but play the lyre -playing was important clearly -quite as singing: i desire -sir, you keep the fact in mind -for a purpose that's behind - -there stood he, while deep attention -held the judges round -to detect the slightest sound -sung or played amiss: such ears -had old judges, it appears - -none the less he sang out boldly -played in time and tune -till the judges, weighing coldly -each note's worth, seemed, late or soon -sure to smile "in vain one tries -picking faults out: take the prize - -when, a mischief! were they seven -strings the lyre possessed -oh, and afterwards eleven -thank you! well, sir,--who had guessed -such ill luck in store?--it happed -one of those same seven strings snapped - -all was lost, then! no! a cricket -for mere love of music--flew -with its little heart on fire -lighted on the crippled lyre - -so that when (ah, joy!) our singer -for his truant string -feels with disconcerted finger -what does cricket else but fling -fiery heart forth, sound the note -wanted by the throbbing throat - -ay, and ever to the ending -cricket chirps at need -executes the hand's intending -promptly, perfectly,--indeed -saves the singer from defeat -with her chirrup low and sweet - -till, at ending, all the judges -cry with one assent -such a voice and instrument -why, we took your lyre for harp -so it shrilled us forth f sharp - -did the conqueror spurn the creature -once its service done -that's no such uncommon feature -in the case when music's son -finds his lotte's power too spent -for aiding soul-development - -no! this other, on returning -homeward, prize in hand -satisfied his bosom's yearning -of this cricket's help to me - -so, he made himself a statue -marble stood, life-size -on the lyre, he pointed at you -perched his partner in the prize -never more apart you found -her, he throned, from him, she crowned - -that's the tale: its application -somebody i know -hopes one day for reputation -through his poetry that's--oh -all so learned and so wise -and deserving of a prize - -if he gains one, will some ticket -when his statue's built -tell the gazer "'twas a cricket -helped my crippled lyre, whose lilt -sweet and low, when strength usurped -softness' place i' the scale, she chirped - -while i sang and played -with my lyre at lowest, highest -right alike,--one string that made -never to be heard again - -perched upon the place -vacant left, and duly uttered -asked the treble to atone -for its somewhat sombre drone - -but you don't know music! wherefore -keep on casting pearls -to a--poet? all i care for -is--to tell him that a girl's -grows his singing. (there, enough - - - -oh, the beautiful girl, too white -who lived at pornic, down by the sea -just where the sea and the loire unite -and a boasted name in brittany -she bore, which i will not write - -too white, for the flower of life is red -her flesh was the soft seraphic screen -of a soul that is meant (her parents said -to just see earth, and hardly be seen -and blossom in heaven instead - -yet earth saw one thing, one how fair -one grace that grew to its full on earth -smiles might be sparse on her cheek so spare -and her waist want half a girdle's girth -but she had her great gold hair - -hair, such a wonder of flix and floss -freshness and fragrance--floods of it, too -gold, did i say? nay, gold's mere dross -here, life smiled, "think what i meant to do -and love sighed, "fancy my loss - -so, when she died, it was scarce more strange -than that, when delicate evening dies -and you follow its spent sun's pallid range -there's a shoot of colour startles the skies -with sudden, violent change - -that, while the breath was nearly to seek -as they put the little cross to her lips -she changed; a spot came out on her cheek -a spark from her eye in mid-eclipse -and she broke forth, "i must speak - -but the last, last grace, my all, my own -let it stay in the grave, that the ghosts may know -leave my poor gold hair alone - -the passion thus vented, dead lay she -her parents sobbed their worst on that -all friends joined in, nor observed degree -for indeed the hair was to wonder at -as it spread--not flowing free - -but curled around her brow, like a crown -and coiled beside her cheeks, like a cap -and calmed about her neck--ay, down -to her breast, pressed flat, without a gap -i' the gold, it reached her gown - -all kissed that face, like a silver wedge -e'en the priest allowed death's privilege -as he planted the crucifix with care -on her breast, 'twixt edge and edge - -and thus was she buried, inviolate -of body and soul, in the very space -by the altar; keeping saintly state -in pornic church, for her pride of race -pure life and piteous fate - -and in after-time would your fresh tear fall -though your mouth might twitch with a dubious smile -as they told you of gold, both robe and pall -how she prayed them leave it alone awhile -so it never was touched at all - -years flew; this legend grew at last -the life of the lady; all she had done -all been, in the memories fading fast -of lover and friend, was summed in one -sentence survivors passed - -to wit, she was meant for heaven, not earth -had turned an angel before the time -yet, since she was mortal, in such dearth -of frailty, all you could count a crime -was--she knew her gold hair's worth - -it chanced, the pavement wanted repair -was taken to pieces: left in the lurch -a certain sacred space lay bare -and the boys began research - -a benefactor,--a bishop, suppose -a baron with armour-adornments quaint -dame with chased ring and jewelled rose -things sanctity saves from taint - -so we come to find them in after-days -when the corpse is presumed to have done with gauds -of use to the living, in many ways -for the boys get pelf, and the town applauds -and the church deserves the praise - -they grubbed with a will: and at length--_o cor -humanum, pectora cæca_, and the rest -they found--no gaud they were prying for -no ring, no rose, but--who would have guessed -a double louis-d'or - -here was a case for the priest: he heard -marked, inwardly digested, laid -finger on nose, smiled, "there's a bird -chirps in my ear:" then, "bring a spade -dig deeper!"--he gave the word - -and lo, when they came to the coffin-lid -or rotten planks which composed it once -why, there lay the girl's skull wedged amid -a mint of money, it served for the nonce -to hold in its hair-heaps hid - -hid there? why? could the girl be wont -money, earth's trash and heaven's affront -had a spider found out the communion-cup -was a toad in the christening-font - -truth is truth: too true it was -gold! she hoarded and hugged it first -longed for it, leaned o'er it, loved it--alas -till the humour grew to a head and burst -and she cried, at the final pass - -nor lover nor friend--be gold for both -gold i lack; and, my all, my own -it shall hide in my hair. i scarce die loth -if they let my hair alone - -louis-d'or, some six times five -and duly double, every piece -now, do you see? with the priest to shrive -with parents preventing her soul's release -by kisses that kept alive - -with heaven's gold gates about to ope -with friends' praise, gold-like, lingering still -an instinct had bidden the girl's hand grope -for gold, the true sort--"gold in heaven, if you will -but i keep earth's too, i hope - -enough! the priest took the grave's grim yield -the parents, they eyed that price of sin -as if _thirty pieces_ lay revealed -on the place _to bury strangers in -the hideous potter's field - -but the priest bethought him: "'milk that's spilt -saints tumble to earth with so slight a tilt -it would build a new altar; that, we may -and the altar therewith was built - -why i deliver this horrible verse -as the text of a sermon, which now i preach -evil or good may be better or worse -in the human heart, but the mixture of each -is a marvel and a curse - -the candid incline to surmise of late -that the christian faith proves false, i find -for our essays-and-reviews' debate -begins to tell on the public mind -and colenso's words have weight - -i still, to suppose it true, for my part -see reasons and reasons; this, to begin -at the head of a lie--taught original sin -the corruption of man's heart - - -do you happen to know in ross-shire -mount ben ... but the name scarce matters -of the naked fact i am sure enough -though i clothe it in rags and tatters - -you may recognise ben by description -behind him--a moor's immenseness -up goes the middle mount of a range -fringed with its firs in denseness - -rimming the edge, its fir-fringe, mind -for an edge there is, though narrow -from end to end of the range, a strip -of path runs straight as an arrow - -and the mountaineer who takes that path -saves himself miles of journey -he has to plod if he crosses the moor -through heather, peat, and burnie - -but a mountaineer he needs must be -for, look you, right in the middle -projects bluff ben--with an end in _ich -why planted there, is a riddle - -since all ben's brothers little and big -keep rank, set shoulder to shoulder -and only this burliest out must bulge -till it seems--to the beholder - -from down in the gully,--as if ben's breast -to a sudden spike diminished -would signify to the boldest foot - -yet the mountaineer who sidles on -and on to the very bending -discovers, if heart and brain be proof -no necessary ending - -foot up, foot down, to the turn abrupt -having trod, he, there arriving -finds--what he took for a point was breadth -a mercy of nature's contriving - -so, he rounds what, when 'tis reached, proves straight -from one side gains the other -the wee path widens--resume the march -and he foils you, ben my brother - -but donald--(that name, i hope, will do -i wrong him if i call "foiling -the tramp of the callant, whistling the while -as blithe as our kettle's boiling - -he had dared the danger from boyhood up -and now,--when perchance was waiting -a lass at the brig below,--'twixt mount -and moor would he standing debating - -moreover this donald was twenty-five -a glory of bone and muscle -did a fiend dispute the right of way -donald would try a tussle - -lightsomely marched he out of the broad -on to the narrow and narrow -a step more, rounding the angular rock -reached the front straight as an arrow - -he stepped it, safe on the ledge he stood -when--whom found he full-facing -what fellow in courage and wariness too -had scouted ignoble pacing - -and left low safety to timid mates -and made for the dread dear danger -and gained the height where--who could guess -he would meet with a rival ranger - -gigantic and magnific -by the wonder--ay, and the peril--struck -intelligent and pacific - -for a red deer is no fallow deer -grown cowardly through park-feeding -he batters you like a thunderbolt -if you brave his haunts unheeding - -i doubt he could hardly perform _volte-face -had valour advised discretion -you may walk on a rope, but to turn on a rope -no blondin makes profession - -yet donald must turn, would pride permit -though pride ill brooks retiring -each eyed each--mute man, motionless beast -less fearing than admiring - -these are the moments when quite new sense -to meet some need as novel -springs up in the brain: it inspired resource - -and slowly, surely, never a whit -relaxing the steady tension -of eye-stare which binds man to beast -by an inch and inch declension - -sank donald sidewise down and down -till flat, breast upwards, lying -at his six-foot length, no corpse more still - -minutes were an eternity -but a new sense was created -in the stag's brain too; he resolves! slow, sure -with eye-stare unabated - -feelingly he extends a foot -which tastes the way ere it touches -earth's solid and just escapes man's soft -nor hold of the same unclutches - -till its fellow foot, light as a feather whisk -lands itself no less finely -so a mother removes a fly from the face -of her babe asleep supinely - -and now 'tis the haunch and hind-foot's turn -yes, traversing half the prostrate length -his hoof-tip does not graze it - -just one more lift! but donald, you see -was sportsman first, man after -a fancy lightened his caution through - -unrivalled, unexampled -all sporting feats with this feat matched -were down and dead and trampled - -the last of the legs as tenderly -follows the rest: or never -or now is the time! his knife in reach -and his right hand loose--how clever - -for this can stab up the stomach's soft -while the left hand grasps the pastern -a rise on the elbow, and--now's the time -or never: this turn's the last turn - -i shall dare to place myself by god -who scanned--for he does--each feature -of the face thrown up in appeal to him -by the agonising creature - -nay, i hear plain words: "thy gift brings this -up he sprang, back he staggered -over he fell, and with him our friend - -yet he was not dead when they picked next day -from the gully's depth the wreck of him -his fall had been stayed by the stag beneath -who cushioned and saved the neck of him - -but the rest of his body--why, doctors said -whatever could break was broken -legs, arms, ribs, all of him looked like a toast -in a tumbler of port wine soaken - -said they when--the slow cure ended -they opened the hospital door, and thence - -and minor damage left wisely alone -like an old shoe clouted and cobbled -out--what went in a goliath wellnigh -some half of a david hobbled - -sell the stag's head for a bracket -with its grand twelve tines--i'd buy it myself -and use the skin for a jacket - -he was wiser, made both head and hide -his win-penny: hands and knees on -would manage to crawl--poor crab--by the roads -in the misty stalking season - -and if he discovered a bothy like this -why, harvest was sure: folk listened -he told his tale to the lovers of sport -lips twitched, cheeks glowed, eyes glistened - -and when he had come to the close, and spread -his spoils for the gazers' wonder -with "gentlemen, here's the skull of the stag -i was over, thank god, not under - -the company broke out in applause -have a munch of grouse and a hunk of bread -and a tug, besides, at our tipple - -and "there's my pay for your pluck!" cried this -cried that, while t'other--but he was drunk -hiccupped "a trump, a tory - -i hope i gave twice as much as the rest -for, as homer would say, "within grate -though teeth kept tongue," my whole soul growled - - - - -when a man's busy, why, leisure -strikes him as wonderful pleasure -straightway he wants to be busy -here we've got peace; and aghast i'm -caught thinking war the true pastime -is there a reason in metre -give us your speech, master peter -i who, if mortal dare say so -ne'er am at a loss with my naso -men are the merest ixions -here the king whistled aloud, "let's -such are the sorrowful chances -if you talk fine to king francis - -and so, to the courtyard proceeding -our company, francis was leading -increased by new followers tenfold -before he arrived at the penfold -lords, ladies, like clouds which bedizen -at sunset the western horizon -and sir de lorge pressed 'mid the foremost -with the dame he professed to adore most -oh, what a face! one by fits eyed -her, and the horrible pitside -for the penfold surrounded a hollow -which led where the eye scarce dared follow -and shelved to the chamber secluded -where bluebeard, the great lion, brooded -the king hailed his keeper, an arab -as glossy and black as a scarab -and bade him make sport and at once stir -up and out of his den the old monster -they opened a hole in the wire-work -across it, and dropped there a firework -and fled: one's heart's beating redoubled -a pause, while the pit's mouth was troubled -the blackness and silence so utter -by the firework's slow sparkling and sputter -then earth in a sudden contortion -gave out to our gaze her abortion -such a brute! were i friend clement marot -and whose faculties move in no small mist -when he versifies david the psalmist -i should study that brute to describe you - -one's whole blood grew curdling and creepy -to see the black mane, vast and heapy -the tail in the air stiff and straining -the wide eyes, nor waxing nor waning -as over the barrier which bounded -his platform, and us who surrounded -the barrier, they reached and they rested -on space that might stand him in best stead -for who knew, he thought, what the amazement -the eruption of clatter and blaze meant -and if, in this minute of wonder -no outlet, 'mid lightning and thunder -lay broad, and, his shackles all shivered -the lion at last was delivered -ay, that was the open sky o'erhead -and you saw by the flash on his forehead -by the hope in those eyes wide and steady -he was leagues in the desert already -driving the flocks up the mountain -or catlike couched hard by the fountain -to waylay the date-gathering negress -so guarded he entrance or egress -and so can afford the confession -we exercise wholesome discretion -in keeping aloof from his threshold -once hold you, those jaws want no fresh hold -their first would too pleasantly purloin -the visitor's brisket or sirloin -but who's he would prove so foolhardy -not the best man of marignan, pardie - -the sentence no sooner was uttered -than over the rails a glove fluttered -fell close to the lion, and rested -the dame 'twas, who flung it and jested -with life so, de lorge had been wooing -for months past; he sat there pursuing -his suit, weighing out with nonchalance -fine speeches like gold from a balance - -sound the trumpet, no true knight's a tarrier -de lorge made one leap at the barrier -walked straight to the glove,--while the lion -ne'er moved, kept his far-reaching eye on -the palm-tree-edged desert-spring's sapphire -and the musky oiled skin of the kaffir -picked it up, and as calmly retreated -leaped back where the lady was seated -and full in the face of its owner -flung the glove - -so should i!"--cried the king--"'twas mere vanity -not love, set that task to humanity -lords and ladies alike turned with loathing -from such a proved wolf in sheep's clothing - -not so, i; for i caught an expression -in her brow's undisturbed self-possession -amid the court's scoffing and merriment -as if from no pleasing experiment -she rose, yet of pain not much heedful -so long as the process was needful -as if she had tried in a crucible -to what "speeches like gold" were reducible -and, finding the finest prove copper -felt the smoke in her face was but proper -to know what she had _not_ to trust to -was worth all the ashes and dust too -she went out 'mid hooting and laughter -clement marot stayed; i followed after -and asked, as a grace, what it all meant -if she wished not the rash deed's recallment -human nature,--behooves that i know it - -she told me, "too long had i heard -of the deed proved alone by the word -for my love--what de lorge would not dare -with my scorn--what de lorge could compare -and the endless descriptions of death -he would brave when my lip formed a breath -i must reckon as braved, or, of course -doubt his word--and moreover, perforce -for such gifts as no lady could spurn -must offer my love in return -when i looked on your lion, it brought -all the dangers at once to my thought -encountered by all sorts of men -before he was lodged in his den -from the poor slave whose club or bare hands -dug the trap, set the snare on the sands -with no king and no court to applaud -by no shame, should he shrink, overawed -yet to capture the creature made shift -that his rude boys might laugh at the gift -of the pit, on no greater pretence -than to get back the bonnet he dropped -lest his pay for a week should be stopped -so, wiser i judged it to make -one trial what 'death for my sake -really meant, while the power was yet mine -than to wait until time should define -who took it to mean just 'to die -the blow a glove gives is but weak -does the mark yet discolour my cheek -but when the heart suffers a blow -will the pain pass so soon, do you know - -i looked, as away she was sweeping -and saw a youth eagerly keeping -as close as he dared to the doorway -no doubt that a noble should more weigh -his life than befits a plebeian -and yet, had our brute been nemean -the youth stepped with, forward to serve her -if you whispered, "friend, what you'd get, first earn -and when, shortly after, she carried -her shame from the court, and they married -to that marriage some happiness, maugre -the voice of the court, i dared augur diff --git a/corpus_cleaner.py b/corpus_cleaner.py deleted file mode 100644 index ab5330e..0000000 --- a/corpus_cleaner.py +++ /dev/null @@ -1,34 +0,0 @@ -import string - - -corpus = open('poem_corpus.txt') -new_corpus = open('corpus.txt', 'w') -rhymes = open('rhymes.txt', 'w') -c = 1 -corpus.readline() - -blank_count = 3 -for line in corpus.readlines(): - line = line.lstrip() - line = line.rstrip(string.punctuation + string.whitespace) - - if line == '': - blank_count += 1 - if blank_count < 2: - print(line.lower()) - new_corpus.write(line.lower() + '\n') - else: - if blank_count <= 2: - istitle = line[-1] in string.ascii_uppercase - isauthor = line[0] in string.punctuation - if len(line) >= 5 and not istitle and not isauthor: - last_word = line.split()[-1] - rhymes.write(last_word + '\n') - print(line.lower()) - new_corpus.write(line.lower() + '\n') - blank_count = 0 - c += 1 - -corpus.close() -new_corpus.close() -rhymes.close() \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/data/.gitkeep b/data/.gitkeep new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e69de29 diff --git a/data/erotic_corpus.txt b/data/erotic_corpus.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..975b4f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/data/erotic_corpus.txt @@ -0,0 +1,55141 @@ +My company was charming. + +Opposite me by the massive Renaissance fireplace sat Venus; she was +not a casual woman of the half-world, who under this pseudonym wages +war against the enemy sex, like Mademoiselle Cleopatra, but the real, +true goddess of love. + +She sat in an armchair and had kindled a crackling fire, whose +reflection ran in red flames over her pale face with its white eyes, +and from time to time over her feet when she sought to warm them. + +Her head was wonderful in spite of the dead stony eyes; it was all +I could see of her. She had wrapped her marble-like body in a huge +fur, and rolled herself up trembling like a cat. + +"I don't understand it," I exclaimed, "It isn't really cold any +longer. For two weeks past we have had perfect spring weather. You +must be nervous." + +"Much obliged for your spring," she replied with a low stony voice, +and immediately afterwards sneezed divinely, twice in succession. "I +really can't stand it here much longer, and I am beginning to +understand--" + +"What, dear lady?" + +"I am beginning to believe the unbelievable and to understand the +un-understandable. All of a sudden I understand the Germanic virtue of +woman, and German philosophy, and I am no longer surprised that you of +the North do not know how to love, haven't even an idea of what love +is." + +"But, madame," I replied flaring up, "I surely haven't given you any +reason." + +"Oh, you--" The divinity sneezed for the third time, and shrugged +her shoulders with inimitable grace. "That's why I have always been +nice to you, and even come to see you now and then, although I catch +a cold every time, in spite of all my furs. Do you remember the first +time we met?" + +"How could I forget it," I said. "You wore your abundant hair in +brown curls, and you had brown eyes and a red mouth, but I recognized +you immediately by the outline of your face and its marble-like +pallor--you always wore a violet-blue velvet jacket edged with +squirrel-skin." + +"You were really in love with the costume, and awfully docile." + +"You have taught me what love is. Your serene form of worship let me +forget two thousand years." + +"And my faithfulness to you was without equal!" + +"Well, as far as faithfulness goes--" + +"Ungrateful!" + +"I will not reproach you with anything. You are a divine woman, but +nevertheless a woman, and like every woman cruel in love." + +"What you call cruel," the goddess of love replied eagerly, "is +simply the element of passion and of natural love, which is woman's +nature and makes her give herself where she loves, and makes her love +everything, that pleases her." + +"Can there be any greater cruelty for a lover than the +unfaithfulness of the woman he loves?" + +"Indeed!" she replied. "We are faithful as long as we love, but you +demand faithfulness of a woman without love, and the giving of +herself without enjoyment. Who is cruel there--woman or man? You of +the North in general take love too soberly and seriously. You talk +of duties where there should be only a question of pleasure." + +"That is why our emotions are honorable and virtuous, and our +relations permanent." + +"And yet a restless, always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of +paganism," she interrupted, "but that love, which is the highest joy, +which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you +children of reflection. It works only evil in you. _As soon as you +wish to be natural, you become common._ To you nature seems something +hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and +out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay +yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of +you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot +pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow +from his withered staff, while under my feet roses, violets, and +myrtles spring up every hour, but their fragrance does not agree with +you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us +pagans remain under the debris, beneath the lava; do not disinter us. +Pompeii was not built for you, nor our villas, our baths, our temples. +You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world." + +The beautiful marble woman coughed, and drew the dark sables still +closer about her shoulders. + +"Much obliged for the classical lesson," I replied, "but you cannot +deny, that man and woman are mortal enemies, in your serene sunlit +world as well as in our foggy one. In love there is union into a +single being for a short time only, capable of only one thought, one +sensation, one will, in order to be then further disunited. And you +know this better than I; whichever of the two fails to subjugate will +soon feel the feet of the other on his neck--" + +"And as a rule the man that of the woman," cried Madame Venus with +proud mockery, "which you know better than I." + +"Of course, and that is why I don't have any illusions." + +"You mean you are now my slave without illusions, and for that +reason you shall feel the weight of my foot without mercy." + +"Madame!" + +"Don't you know me yet? Yes, I am _cruel_--since you take so much +delight in that word-and am I not entitled to be so? Man is the one +who desires, woman the one who is desired. This is woman's entire but +decisive advantage. Through his passion nature has given man into +woman's hands, and the woman who does not know how to make him her +subject, her slave, her toy, and how to betray him with a smile in the +end is not wise." + +"Exactly your principles," I interrupted angrily. + +"They are based on the experience of thousands of years," she +replied ironically, while her white fingers played over the dark fur. +"The more devoted a woman shows herself, the sooner the man sobers +down and becomes domineering. The more cruelly she treats him and the +more faithless she is, the worse she uses him, the more wantonly she +plays with him, the less pity she shows him, by so much the more will +she increase his desire, be loved, worshipped by him. So it has +always been, since the time of Helen and Delilah, down to Catherine +the Second and Lola Montez." + +"I cannot deny," I said, "that nothing will attract a man more than +the picture of a beautiful, passionate, cruel, and despotic woman who +wantonly changes her favorites without scruple in accordance with her +whim--" + +"And in addition wears furs," exclaimed the divinity. + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I know your predilection." + +"Do you know," I interrupted, "that, since we last saw each other, +you have grown very coquettish." + +"In what way, may I ask?" + +"In that there is no way of accentuating your white body to greater +advantage than by these dark furs, and that--" + +The divinity laughed. + +"You are dreaming," she cried, "wake up!" and she clasped my arm +with her marble-white hand. "Do wake up," she repeated raucously with +the low register of her voice. I opened my eyes with difficulty. + +I saw the hand which shook me, and suddenly it was brown as bronze; +the voice was the thick alcoholic voice of my cossack servant who +stood before me at his full height of nearly six feet. + +"Do get up," continued the good fellow, "it is really disgraceful." + +"What is disgraceful?" + +"To fall asleep in your clothes and with a book besides." He snuffed +the candles which had burned down, and picked up the volume which had +fallen from my hand, "with a book by"--he looked at the title page-- +"by Hegel. Besides it is high time you were starting for Mr. +Severin's who is expecting us for tea." + +"A curious dream," said Severin when I had finished. He supported +his arms on his knees, resting his face in his delicate, finely +veined hands, and fell to pondering. + +I knew that he wouldn't move for a long time, hardly even breathe. This +actually happened, but I didn't consider his behavior as in any way +remarkable. I had been on terms of close friendship with him for nearly +three years, and gotten used to his peculiarities. For it cannot be +denied that he was peculiar, although he wasn't quite the dangerous +madman that the neighborhood, or indeed the entire district of Kolomea, +considered him to be. I found his personality not only interesting--and +that is why many also regarded me a bit mad--but to a degree +sympathetic. For a Galician nobleman and land-owner, and considering his +age--he was hardly over thirty--he displayed surprising sobriety, a +certain seriousness, even pedantry. He lived according to a minutely +elaborated, half-philosophical, half-practical system, like clock-work; +not this alone, but also by the thermometer, barometer, aerometer, +hydrometer, Hippocrates, Hufeland, Plato, Kant, Knigge, and Lord +Chesterfield. But at times he had violent attacks of sudden passion, and +gave the impression of being about to run with his head right through a +wall. At such times every one preferred to get out of his way. + +While he remained silent, the fire sang in the chimney and the large +venerable samovar sang; and the ancient chair in which I sat rocking +to and fro smoking my cigar, and the cricket in the old walls sang +too. I let my eyes glide over the curious apparatus, skeletons of +animals, stuffed birds, globes, plaster-casts, with which his room +was heaped full, until by chance my glance remained fixed on a +picture which I had seen often enough before. But to-day, under the +reflected red glow of the fire, it made an indescribable impression +on me. + +It was a large oil painting, done in the robust full-bodied manner +of the Belgian school. Its subject was strange enough. + +A beautiful woman with a radiant smile upon her face, with abundant +hair tied into a classical knot, on which white powder lay like a +soft hoarfrost, was resting on an ottoman, supported on her left arm. +She was nude in her dark furs. Her right hand played with a lash, +while her bare foot rested carelessly on a man, lying before her like +a slave, like a dog. In the sharply outlined, but well-formed +linaments of this man lay brooding melancholy and passionate +devotion; he looked up to her with the ecstatic burning eye of a +martyr. This man, the footstool for her feet, was Severin, but +beardless, and, it seemed, some ten years younger. + +"_Venus in Furs_," I cried, pointing to the picture. "That is the way +I saw her in my dream." + +"I, too," said Severin, "only I dreamed my dream with open eyes." + +"Indeed?" + +"It is a tiresome story." + +"Your picture apparently suggested my dream," I continued. "But do +tell me what it means. I can imagine that it played a role in your +life, and perhaps a very decisive one. But the details I can only get +from you." + +"Look at its counterpart," replied my strange friend, without +heeding my question. + +The counterpart was an excellent copy of Titian's well-known "Venus +with the Mirror" in the Dresden Gallery. + +"And what is the significance?" + +Severin rose and pointed with his finger at the fur with which +Titian garbed his goddess of love. + +"It, too, is a 'Venus in Furs,'" he said with a slight smile. "I +don't believe that the old Venetian had any secondary intention. He +simply painted the portrait of some aristocratic Mesalina, and was +tactful enough to let Cupid hold the mirror in which she tests her +majestic allure with cold satisfaction. He looks as though his task +were becoming burdensome enough. The picture is painted flattery. +Later an 'expert' in the Rococo period baptized the lady with the +name of Venus. The furs of the despot in which Titian's fair model +wrapped herself, probably more for fear of a cold than out of +modesty, have become a symbol of the tyranny and cruelty that +constitute woman's essence and her beauty. + +"But enough of that. The picture, as it now exists, is a bitter +satire on our love. Venus in this abstract North, in this icy +Christian world, has to creep into huge black furs so as not to catch +cold--" + +Severin laughed, and lighted a fresh cigarette. + +Just then the door opened and an attractive, stoutish, blonde girl +entered. She had wise, kindly eyes, was dressed in black silk, and +brought us cold meat and eggs with our tea. Severin took one of the +latter, and decapitated it with his knife. + +"Didn't I tell you that I want them soft-boiled?" he cried with a +violence that made the young woman tremble. + +"But my dear Sevtchu--" she said timidly. + +"Sevtchu, nothing," he yelled, "you are to obey, obey, do you +understand?" and he tore the _kantchuk_ [Footnote: A long whip with a +short handle.] which was hanging beside the weapons from its hook. + +The woman fled from the chamber quickly and timidly like a doe. + +"Just wait, I'll get you yet," he called after her. + +"But Severin," I said placing my hand on his arm, "how can you treat +a pretty young woman thus?" + +"Look at the woman," he replied, blinking humorously with his eyes. +"Had I flattered her, she would have cast the noose around my neck, +but now, when I bring her up with the _kantchuk_, she adores me." + +"Nonsense!" + +"Nonsense, nothing, that is the way you have to break in women." + +"Well, if you like it, live like a pasha in your harem, but don't +lay down theories for me--" + +"Why not," he said animatedly. "Goethe's 'you must be hammer or anvil' +is absolutely appropriate to the relation between man and woman. +Didn't Lady Venus in your dream prove that to you? Woman's power lies +in man's passion, and she knows how to use it, if man doesn't +understand himself. He has only one choice: to be the _tyrant_ over or +the _slave_ of woman. As soon as he gives in, his neck is under the +yoke, and the lash will soon fall upon him." + +"Strange maxims!" + +"Not maxims, but experiences," he replied, nodding his head, "_I have +actually felt the lash_. I am cured. Do you care to know how?" + +He rose, and got a small manuscript from his massive desk, and put +it in front of me. + +"You have already asked about the picture. I have long owed you an +explanation. Here--read!" + +Severin sat down by the chimney with his back toward me, and seemed +to dream with open eyes. Silence had fallen again, and again the fire +sang in the chimney, and the samovar and the cricket in the old +walls. I opened the manuscript and read: + +CONFESSIONS OF A SUPERSENSUAL MAN. + +The margin of the manuscript bore as motto a variation of the well-known +lines from _Faust_: + + "Thou supersensual sensual wooer + A woman leads you by the nose." + --MEPHISTOPHELES. + +I turned the title-page and read: "What follows has been compiled +from my diary of that period, because it is impossible ever frankly +to write of one's past, but in this way everything retains its fresh +colors, the colors of the present." + +Gogol, the Russian Moliere, says--where? well, somewhere--"the real +comic muse is the one under whose laughing mask tears roll down." + +A wonderful saying. + +So I have a very curious feeling as I am writing all this down. The +atmosphere seems filled with a stimulating fragrance of flowers, +which overcomes me and gives me a headache. The smoke of the +fireplace curls and condenses into figures, small gray-bearded +kokolds that mockingly point their finger at me. Chubby-cheeked +cupids ride on the arms of my chair and on my knees. I have to smile +involuntarily, even laugh aloud, as I am writing down my adventures. +Yet I am not writing with ordinary ink, but with red blood that drips +from my heart. All its wounds long scarred over have opened and it +throbs and hurts, and now and then a tear falls on the paper. + +The days creep along sluggishly in the little Carpathian health-resort. +You see no one, and no one sees you. It is boring enough to write idyls. +I would have leisure here to supply a whole gallery of paintings, +furnish a theater with new pieces for an entire season, a dozen +virtuosos with concertos, trios, and duos, but--what am I saying--the +upshot of it all is that I don't do much more than to stretch the +canvas, smooth the bow, line the scores. For I am--no false modesty, +Friend Severin; you can lie to others, but you don't quite succeed any +longer in lying to yourself--I am nothing but a dilettante, a dilettante +in painting, in poetry, in music, and several other of the so-called +unprofitable arts, which, however, at present secure for their masters +the income of a cabinet minister, or even that of a minor potentate. +Above all else I am a dilettante in life. + +Up to the present I have lived as I have painted and written poetry. +I never got far beyond the preparation, the plan, the first act, the +first stanza. There are people like that who begin everything, and +never finish anything. I am such a one. + +But what am I saying? + +To the business in hand. + +I lie in my window, and the miserable little town, which fills me +with despondency, really seems infinitely full of poetry. How +wonderful the outlook upon the blue wall of high mountains interwoven +with golden sunlight; mountain-torrents weave through them like +ribbons of silver! How clear and blue the heavens into which +snowcapped crags project; how green and fresh the forested slopes; +the meadows on which small herds graze, down to the yellow billows +of grain where reapers stand and bend over and rise up again. + +The house in which I live stands in a sort of park, or forest, or +wilderness, whatever one wants to call it, and is very solitary. + +Its sole inhabitants are myself, a widow from Lemberg, and Madame +Tartakovska, who runs the house, a little old woman, who grows older +and smaller each day. There are also an old dog that limps on one +leg, and a young cat that continually plays with a ball of yarn. This +ball of yarn, I believe, belongs to the widow. + +She is said to be really beautiful, this widow, still very young, +twenty-four at the most, and very rich. She dwells in the first story, +and I on the ground floor. She always keeps the green blinds drawn, and +has a balcony entirely overgrown with green climbing-plants. I for my +part down below have a comfortable, intimate arbor of honeysuckle, in +which I read and write and paint and sing like a bird among the twigs. I +can look up on the balcony. Sometimes I actually do so, and then from +time to time a white gown gleams between the dense green network. + +Really the beautiful woman up there doesn't interest me very much, for I +am in love with someone else, and terribly unhappy at that; far more +unhappy than the Knight of Toggenburg or the Chevalier in Manon +l'Escault, because the object of my adoration is of stone. + +In the garden, in the tiny wilderness, there is a graceful little +meadow on which a couple of deer graze peacefully. On this meadow is +a stone statue of Venus, the original of which, I believe, is in +Florence. This Venus is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in +all my life. + +That, however, does not signify much, for I have seen few beautiful +women, or rather few women at all. In love too, I am a dilettante who +never got beyond the preparation, the first act. + +But why talk in superlatives, as if something that is beautiful +could be surpassed? + +It is sufficient to say that this Venus is beautiful. I love her +passionately with a morbid intensity; madly as one can only love a +woman who never responds to our love with anything but an eternally +uniform, eternally calm, stony smile. I literally adore her. + +I often lie reading under the leafy covering of a young birch when +the sun broods over the forest. Often I visit that cold, cruel +mistress of mine by night and lie on my knees before her, with the +face pressed against the cold pedestal on which her feet rest, and +my prayers go up to her. + +The rising moon, which just now is waning, produces an indescribable +effect. It seems to hover among the trees and submerges the meadow +in its gleam of silver. The goddess stands as if transfigured, and +seems to bathe in the soft moonlight. + +Once when I was returning from my devotions by one of the walks +leading to the house, I suddenly saw a woman's figure, white as +stone, under the illumination of the moon and separated from me +merely by a screen of trees. It seemed as if the beautiful woman of +marble had taken pity on me, become alive, and followed me. I was +seized by a nameless fear, my heart threatened to burst, and instead-- + +Well, I am a dilettante. As always, I broke down at the second +stanza; rather, on the contrary, I did not break down, but ran away +as fast as my legs would carry me. + + * * * * * + +What an accident! Through a Jew, dealing in photographs I secured a +picture of my ideal. It is a small reproduction of Titian's "Venus +with the Mirror." What a woman! I want to write a poem, but instead, +I take the reproduction, and write on it: _Venus in Furs_. + +You are cold, while you yourself fan flames. By all means wrap +yourself in your despotic furs, there is no one to whom they are more +appropriate, cruel goddess of love and of beauty!--After a while I add +a few verses from Goethe, which I recently found in his paralipomena +to _Faust_. + + TO AMOR + + "The pair of wings a fiction are, + The arrows, they are naught but claws, + The wreath conceals the little horns, + For without any doubt he is + Like all the gods of ancient Greece + Only a devil in disguise." + +Then I put the picture before me on my table, supporting it with a +book, and looked at it. + +I was enraptured and at the same time filled with a strange fear by +the cold coquetry with which this magnificent woman draped her charms +in her furs of dark sable; by the severity and hardness which lay in +this cold marble-like face. Again I took my pen in hand, and wrote +the following words: + +"To love, to be loved, what happiness! And yet how the glamour of +this pales in comparison with the tormenting bliss of worshipping a +woman who makes a plaything out of us, of being the slave of a +beautiful tyrant who treads us pitilessly underfoot. Even Samson, the +hero, the giant, again put himself into the hands of Delilah, even +after she had betrayed him, and again she betrayed him, and the +Philistines bound him and put out his eyes which until the very end +he kept fixed, drunken with rage and love, upon the beautiful +betrayer." + +I was breakfasting in my honey-suckle arbor, and reading in the Book +of Judith. I envied the hero Holofernes because of the regal woman +who cut off his head with a sword, and because of his beautiful +sanguinary end. + +"The almighty Lord hath struck him, and hath delivered him into the +hands of a woman." + +This sentence strangely impressed me. + +How ungallant these Jews are, I thought. And their God might choose +more becoming expressions when he speaks of the fair sex. + +"The almighty Lord hath struck him, and hath delivered him into the +hands of a woman," I repeated to myself. What shall I do, so that He +may punish me? + +Heaven preserve us! Here comes the housekeeper, who has again +diminished somewhat in size overnight. And up there among the green +twinings and garlandings the white gown gleams again. Is it Venus, +or the widow? + +This time it happens to be the widow, for Madame Tartakovska makes +a courtesy, and asks me in her name for something to read. I run to +my room, and gather together a couple of volumes. + +Later I remember that my picture of Venus is in one of them, and now +it and my effusions are in the hands of the white woman up there +together. What will she say? + +I hear her laugh. + +Is she laughing at me? + +It is full moon. It is already peering over the tops of the low +hemlocks that fringe the park. A silvery exhalation fills the +terrace, the groups of trees, all the landscape, as far as the eye +can reach; in the distance it gradually fades away, like trembling +waters. + +I cannot resist. I feel a strange urge and call within me. I put on +my clothes again and go out into the garden. + +Some power draws me toward the meadow, toward her, who is my +divinity and my beloved. + +The night is cool. I feel a slight chill. The atmosphere is heavy +with the odor of flowers and of the forest. It intoxicates. + +What solemnity! What music round about! A nightingale sobs. The +stars quiver very faintly in the pale-blue glamour. The meadow seems +smooth, like a mirror, like a covering of ice on a pond. + +The statue of Venus stands out august and luminous. + +But--what has happened? From the marble shoulders of the goddess a +large dark fur flows down to her heels. I stand dumbfounded and stare +at her in amazement; again an indescribable fear seizes hold of me +and I take flight. + +I hasten my steps, and notice that I have missed the main path. As +I am about to turn aside into one of the green walks I see Venus +sitting before me on a stone bench, not the beautiful woman of +marble, but the goddess of love herself with warm blood and throbbing +pulses. She has actually come to life for me, like the statue that +began to breathe for her creator. Indeed, the miracle is only half +completed. Her white hair seems still to be of stone, and her white +gown shimmers like moonlight, or is it satin? From her shoulders the +dark fur flows. But her lips are already reddening and her cheeks +begin to take color. Two diabolical green rays out of her eyes fall +upon me, and now she laughs. + +Her laughter is very mysterious, very--I don't know. It cannot be +described, it takes my breath away. I flee further, and after every +few steps I have to pause to take breath. The mocking laughter +pursues me through the dark leafy paths, across light open spaces, +through the thicket where only single moonbeams can pierce. I can no +longer find my way, I wander about utterly confused, with cold drops +of perspiration on the forehead. + +Finally I stand still, and engage in a short monologue. + +It runs--well--one is either very polite to one's self or very rude. + +I say to myself: + +"Donkey!" + +This word exercises a remarkable effect, like a magic formula, which +sets me free and makes me master of myself. + +I am perfectly quiet in a moment. + +With considerable pleasure I repeat: "Donkey!" + +Now everything is perfectly clear and distinct before my eyes again. +There is the fountain, there the alley of box-wood, there the house +which I am slowly approaching. + +Yet--suddenly the appearance is here again. Behind the green screen +through which the moonlight gleams so that it seems embroidered with +silver, I again see the white figure, the woman of stone whom I +adore, whom I fear and flee. + +With a couple of leaps I am within the house and catch my breath and +reflect. + +What am I really, a little dilettante or a great big donkey? + +A sultry morning, the atmosphere is dead, heavily laden with odors, +yet stimulating. Again I am sitting in my honey-suckle arbor, reading +in the Odyssey about the beautiful witch who transformed her admirers +into beasts. A wonderful picture of antique love. + +There is a soft rustling in the twigs and blades and the pages of my +book rustle and on the terrace likewise there is a rustling. + +A woman's dress-- + +She is there--Venus--but without furs--No, this time it is merely +the widow--and yet--Venus-oh, what a woman! + +As she stands there in her light white morning gown, looking at me, her +slight figure seems full of poetry and grace. She is neither large, nor +small; her head is alluring, piquant--in the sense of the period of the +French marquises--rather than formally beautiful. What enchantment and +softness, what roguish charm play about her none too small mouth! Her +skin is so infinitely delicate, that the blue veins show through +everywhere; even through the muslin covering her arms and bosom. How +abundant her red hair-it is red, not blonde or golden-yellow--how +diabolically and yet tenderly it plays around her neck! Now her eyes +meet mine like green lightnings--they are green, these eyes of hers, +whose power is so indescribable--green, but as are precious stones, or +deep unfathomable mountain lakes. + +She observes my confusion, which has even made me discourteous, for I +have remained seated and still have my cap on my head. + +She smiles roguishly. + +Finally I rise and bow to her. She comes closer, and bursts out into +a loud, almost childlike laughter. I stammer, as only a little +dilettante or great big donkey can do on such an occasion. + +Thus our acquaintance began. + +The divinity asks for my name, and mentions her own. + +Her name is Wanda von Dunajew. + +And she is actually my Venus. + +"But madame, what put the idea into your head?" + +"The little picture in one of your books--" + +"I had forgotten about it." + +"The curious notes on its back--" + +"Why curious?" + +She looked at me. + +"I have always wanted to know a real dreamer some time--for the sake +of the change--and you seem one of the maddest of the tribe." + +"Dear lady--in fact--" Again I fell victim to an odious, asinine +stammering, and in addition blushed in a way that might have been +appropriate for a youngster of sixteen, but not for me, who was +almost a full ten years older-- + +"You were afraid of me last night." + +"Really--of course--but won't you sit down?" + +She sat down, and enjoyed my embarrassment--for actually I was even +more afraid of her now in the full light of day. A delightful +expression of contempt hovered about her upper lip. + +"You look at love, and especially woman," she began, "as something +hostile, something against which you put up a defense, even if +unsuccessfully. You feel that their power over you gives you a +sensation of pleasurable torture, of pungent cruelty. This is a +genuinely modern point of view." + +"You don't share it?" + +"I do not share it," she said quickly and decisively, shaking her +head, so that her curls flew up like red flames. + +"The ideal which I strive to realize in my life is the serene +sensuousness of the Greeks--pleasure without pain. I do not believe +in the kind of love which is preached by Christianity, by the +moderns, by the knights of the spirit. Yes, look at me, I am worse +than a heretic, I am a pagan. + + 'Doest thou imagine long the goddess of love took counsel + When in Ida's grove she was pleased with the hero Achilles?' + +"These lines from Goethe's _Roman Elegy_ have always delighted me. + +"In nature there is only the love of the heroic age, 'when gods and +goddesses loved.' At that time 'desire followed the glance, enjoyment +desire.' All else is factitious, affected, a lie. Christianity, whose +cruel emblem, the cross, has always had for me an element of the +monstrous, brought something alien and hostile into nature and its +innocent instincts. + +"The battle of the spirit with the senses is the gospel of modern +man. I do not care to have a share in it." + +"Yes, Mount Olympus would be the place for you, madame," I replied, +"but we moderns can no longer support the antique serenity, least of +all in love. The idea of sharing a woman, even if it were an Aspasia, +with another revolts us. We are jealous as is our God. For example, +we have made a term abuse out of the name of the glorious Phryne. + +"We prefer one of Holbein's meagre, pallid virgins, which is wholly +ours to an antique Venus, no matter how divinely beautiful she is, +but who loves Anchises to-day, Paris to-morrow, Adonis the day after. +And if nature triumphs in us so that we give our whole glowing, +passionate devotion to such a woman, her serene joy of life appears +to us as something demonic and cruel, and we read into our happiness +a sin which we must expiate." + +"So you too are one of those who rave about modern women, those +miserable hysterical feminine creatures who don't appreciate a real +man in their somnambulistic search for some dream-man and masculine +ideal. Amid tears and convulsions they daily outrage their Christian +duties; they cheat and are cheated; they always seek again and choose +and reject; they are never happy, and never give happiness. They +accuse fate instead of calmly confessing that they want to love and +live as Helen and Aspasia lived. Nature admits of no permanence in +the relation between man and woman." + +"But, my dear lady--" + +"Let me finish. It is only man's egoism which wants to keep woman +like some buried treasure. All endeavors to introduce permanence in +love, the most changeable thing in this changeable human existence, +have gone shipwreck in spite of religious ceremonies, vows, and +legalities. Can you deny that our Christian world has given itself +over to corruption?" + +"But--" + +"But you are about to say, the individual who rebels against the +arrangements of society is ostracized, branded, stoned. So be it. I +am willing to take the risk; my principles are very pagan. I will +live my own life as it pleases me. I am willing to do without your +hypocritical respect; I prefer to be happy. The inventors of the +Christian marriage have done well, simultaneously to invent +immortality. I, however, have no wish to live eternally. When with +my last breath everything as far as Wanda von Dunajew is concerned +comes to an end here below, what does it profit me whether my pure +spirit joins the choirs of angels, or whether my dust goes into the +formation of new beings? Shall I belong to one man whom I don't love, +merely because I have once loved him? No, I do not renounce; I love +everyone who pleases me, and give happiness to everyone who loves me. +Is that ugly? No, it is more beautiful by far, than if cruelly I +enjoy the tortures, which my beauty excites, and virtuously reject +the poor fellow who is pining away for me. I am young, rich, and +beautiful, and I live serenely for the sake of pleasure and +enjoyment." + +While she was speaking her eyes sparkled roguishly, and I had taken +hold of her hands without exactly knowing what to do with them, but +being a genuine dilettante I hastily let go of them again. + +"Your frankness," I said, "delights me, and not it alone--" + +My confounded dilettantism again throttled me as though there were +a rope around my neck. + +"You were about to say--" + +"I was about to say--I was--I am sorry--I interrupted you." + +"How, so?" + +A long pause. She is doubtless engaging in a monologue, which +translated into my language would be comprised in the single word, +"donkey." + +"If I may ask," I finally began, "how did you arrive at these--these +conclusions?" + +"Quite simply, my father was an intelligent man. From my cradle onward +I was surrounded by replicas of ancient art; at ten years of age I +read _Gil Blas_, at twelve _La Pucelle_. Where others had +Hop-o'-my-thumb, Bluebeard, Cinderella, as childhood friends, mine +were Venus and Apollo, Hercules and Lackoon. My husband's personality +was filled with serenity and sunlight. Not even the incurable illness +which fell upon him soon after our marriage could long cloud his brow. +On the very night of his death he took me in his arms, and during the +many months when he lay dying in his wheel chair, he often said +jokingly to me: 'Well, have you already picked out a lover?' I blushed +with shame. 'Don't deceive me,' he added on one occasion, 'that would +seem ugly to me, but pick out an attractive lover, or preferably +several. You are a splendid woman, but still half a child, and you +need toys.' + +"I suppose, I hardly need tell you that during his life time I had +no lover; but it was through him that I have become what I am, a +woman of Greece." + +"A goddess," I interrupted. + +"Which one," she smiled. + +"Venus." + +She threatened me with her finger and knitted her brows. "Perhaps, +even a 'Venus in Furs.' Watch out, I have a large, very large fur, +with which I could cover you up entirely, and I have a mind to catch +you in it as in a net." + +"Do you believe," I said quickly, for an idea which seemed good, in +spite of its conventionality and triteness, flashed into my head, "do +you believe that your theories could be carried into execution at the +present time, that Venus would be permitted to stray with impunity +among our railroads and telegraphs in all her undraped beauty and +serenity?" + +"_Undraped_, of course not, but in furs," she replied smiling, "would +you care to see mine?" + +"And then--" + +"What then?" + +"Beautiful, free, serene, and happy human beings, such as the Greeks +were, are only possible when it is permitted to have _slaves_ who will +perform the prosaic tasks of every day for them and above all else +labor for them." + +"Of course," she replied playfully, "an Olympian divinity, such as +I am, requires a whole army of slaves. Beware of me!" + +"Why?" + +I myself was frightened at the hardiness with which I uttered this +"why"; it did not startle her in the least. + +She drew back her lips a little so that her small white teeth became +visible, and then said lightly, as if she were discussing some +trifling matter, "Do you want to be my slave?" + +"There is no equality in love," I replied solemnly. "Whenever it is +a matter of choice for me of ruling or being ruled, it seems much +more satisfactory to me to be the slave of a beautiful woman. But +where shall I find the woman who knows how to rule, calmly, full of +self-confidence, even harshly, and not seek to gain her power by +means of petty nagging?" + +"Oh, that might not be so difficult." + +"You think--" + +"I--for instance--" she laughed and leaned far back--"I have a real +talent for despotism--I also have the necessary furs--but last night +you were really seriously afraid of me!" + +"Quite seriously." + +"And now?" + +"Now, I am more afraid of you than ever!" + +We are together every day, I and--Venus; we are together a great +deal. We breakfast in my honey-suckle arbor, and have tea in her +little sitting-room. I have an opportunity to unfold all my small, +very small talents. Of what use would have been my study of all the +various sciences, my playing at all the arts, if I were unable in the +case of a pretty, little woman-- + +But this woman is by no means little; in fact she impresses me +tremendously. I made a drawing of her to-day, and felt particularly +clearly, how inappropriate the modern way of dressing is for a +cameo-head like hers. The configuration of her face has little of the +Roman, but much of the Greek. + +Sometimes I should like to paint her as Psyche, and then again as +Astarte. It depends upon the expression in her eyes, whether it is +vaguely dreamy, or half-consuming, filled with tired desire. +She, however, insists that it be a portrait-likeness. + +I shall make her a present of furs. + +How could I have any doubts? If not for her, for whom would princely +furs be suitable? + + * * * * * + +I was with her yesterday evening, reading the _Roman Elegies_ to her. +Then I laid the book aside, and improvised something for her. She +seemed pleased; rather more than that, she actually hung upon my +words, and her bosom heaved. + +Or was I mistaken? + +The rain beat in melancholy fashion on the window-panes, the fire +crackled in the fireplace in wintery comfort. I felt quite at home +with her, and for a moment lost all my fear of this beautiful woman; +I kissed her hand, and she permitted it. + +Then I sat down at her feet and read a short poem I had written for +her. + + VENUS IN FURS. + + "Place thy foot upon thy slave, + Oh thou, half of hell, half of dreams; + Among the shadows, dark and grave, + Thy extended body softly gleams." + +And--so on. This time I really got beyond the first stanza. At her +request I gave her the poem in the evening, keeping no copy. And now +as I am writing this down in my diary I can only remember the first +stanza. + +I am filled with a very curious sensation. I don't believe that I am +in love with Wanda; I am sure that at our first meeting, I felt +nothing of the lightning-like flashes of passion. But I feel how her +extraordinary, really divine beauty is gradually winding magic snares +about me. It isn't any spiritual sympathy which is growing in me; it +is a physical subjection, coming on slowly, but for that reason more +absolutely. + +I suffer under it more and more each day, and she--she merely smiles. + + * * * * * + +Without any provocation she suddenly said to me to-day: "You +interest me. Most men are very commonplace, without verve or poetry. +In you there is a certain depth and capacity for enthusiasm and a +deep seriousness, which delight me. I might learn to love you." + +After a short but severe shower we went out together to the meadow +and the statue of Venus. All about us the earth steamed; mists rose +up toward heaven like clouds of incense; a shattered rainbow still +hovered in the air. The trees were still shedding drops, but sparrows +and finches were already hopping from twig to twig. They are +twittering gaily, as if very much pleased at something. Everything +is filled with a fresh fragrance. We cannot cross the meadow for it +is still wet. In the sunlight it looks like a small pool, and the +goddess of love seems to rise from the undulations of its mirror-like +surface. About her head a swarm of gnats is dancing, which, +illuminated by the sun, seem to hover above her like an aureole. + +Wanda is enjoying the lovely scene. As all the benches along the +walk are still wet, she supports herself on my arm to rest a while. +A soft weariness permeates her whole being, her eyes are half closed; +I feel the touch of her breath on my cheek. + +How I managed to get up courage enough I really don't know, but I +took hold of her hand, asking, + +"Could you love me?" + +"Why not," she replied, letting her calm, clear look rest upon me, +but not for long. + +A moment later I am kneeling before her, pressing my burning face +against the fragrant muslin of her gown. + +"But Severin--this isn't right," she cried. + +But I take hold of her little foot, and press my lips upon it. + +"You are getting worse and worse!" she cried. She tore herself free, +and fled rapidly toward the house, the while her adorable slipper +remained in my hand. + +Is it an omen? + + * * * * * + +All day long I didn't dare to go near her. Toward evening as I was +sitting in my arbor her gay red head peered suddenly through the +greenery of her balcony. "Why don't you come up?" he called down +impatiently. + +I ran upstairs, and at the top lost courage again. I knocked very +lightly. She didn't say come-in, but opened the door herself, and +stood on the threshold. + +"Where is my slipper?" + +"It is--I have--I want," I stammered. + +"Get it, and then we will have tea together, and chat." + +When I returned, she was engaged in making tea. I ceremoniously +placed the slipper on the table, and stood in the corner like a child +awaiting punishment. + +I noticed that her brows were slightly contracted, and there was an +expression of hardness and dominance about her lips which delighted +me. + +All of a sudden she broke out laughing. + +"So--you are really in love--with me?" + +"Yes, and I suffer more from it than you can imagine?" + +"You suffer?" she laughed again. + +I was revolted, mortified, annihilated, but all this was quite +useless. + +"Why?" she continued, "I like you, with all my heart." + +She gave me her hand, and looked at me in the friendliest fashion. + +"And will you be my wife?" + +Wanda looked at me--how did she look at me? I think first of all +with surprise, and then with a tinge of irony. + +"What has given you so much courage, all at once?" + +"Courage?" + +"Yes courage, to ask anyone to be your wife, and me in particular?" +She lifted up the slipper. "Was it through a sudden friendship with +this? But joking aside. Do you really wish to marry me?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, Severin, that is a serious matter. I believe, you love me, +and I care for you too, and what is more important each of us finds +the other interesting. There is no danger that we would soon get +bored, but, you know, I am a fickle person, and just for that reason +I take marriage seriously. If I assume obligations, I want to be able +to meet them. But I am afraid--no--it would hurt you." + +"Please be perfectly frank with me," I replied. + +"Well then honestly, I don't believe I could love a man longer than--" +She inclined her head gracefully to one side and mused. + +"A year." + +"What do you imagine--a month perhaps." + +"Not even me?" + +"Oh you--perhaps two." + +"Two months!" I exclaimed. + +"Two months is very long." + +"You go beyond antiquity, madame." + +"You see, you cannot stand the truth." + +Wanda walked across the room and leaned back against the fireplace, +watching me and resting one of her arms on the mantelpiece. + +"What shall I do with you?" she began anew. + +"Whatever you wish," I replied with resignation, "whatever will give +you pleasure." + +"How illogical!" she cried, "first you want to make me your wife, +and then you offer yourself to me as something to toy with." + +"Wanda--I love you." + +"Now we are back to the place where we started. You love me, and +want to make me your wife, but I don't want to enter into a new +marriage, because I doubt the permanence of both my and your +feelings." + +"But if I am willing to take the risk with you?" I replied. + +"But it also depends on whether I am willing to risk it with you," +she said quietly. "I can easily imagine belonging to one man for my +entire life, but he would have to be a whole man, a man who would +dominate me, who would subjugate me by his inate strength, do you +understand? And every man--I know this very well--as soon as he falls +in love becomes weak, pliable, ridiculous. He puts himself into the +woman's hands, kneels down before her. The only man whom I could love +permanently would be he before whom I should have to kneel. I've gotten +to like you so much, however, that I'll try it with you." + +I fell down at her feet. + +"For heaven's sake, here you are kneeling already," she said +mockingly. "You are making a good beginning." When I had risen again +she continued, "I will give you a year's time to win me, to convince +me that we are suited to each other, that we might live together. If +you succeed, I will become your wife, and a wife, Severin, who will +conscientiously and strictly perform all her duties. During this year +we will live as though we were married--" + +My blood rose to my head. + +In her eyes too there was a sudden flame-- + +"We will live together," she continued, "share our daily life, so that +we may find out whether we are really fitted for each other. _I grant +you all the rights of a husband, of a lover, of a friend._ Are you +satisfied?" + +"I suppose, I'll have to be?" + +"You don't have to." + +"Well then, I want to--" + +"Splendid. That is how a man speaks. Here is my hand." + + * * * * * + +For ten days I have been with her every hour, except at night. All +the time I was allowed to look into her eyes, hold her hands, listen +to what she said, accompany her wherever she went. + +My love seems to me like a deep, bottomless abyss, into which I +subside deeper and deeper. There is nothing now which could save me +from it. + +This afternoon we were resting on the meadow at the foot of the +Venus-statue. I plucked flowers and tossed them into her lap; she +wound them into wreaths with which we adorned our goddess. + +Suddenly Wanda looked at me so strangely that my senses became +confused and passion swept over my head like a conflagration. Losing +command over myself, I threw my arms about her and clung to her lips, +and she--she drew me close to her heaving breast. + +"Are you angry?" I then asked her. + +"I am never angry at anything that is natural--" she replied, "but +_I_ am afraid you suffer." + +"Oh, I am suffering frightfully." + +"Poor friend!" she brushed my disordered hair back from my fore-head. "I +hope it isn't through any fault of mine." + +"No--" I replied,--"and yet my love for you has become a sort of +madness. The thought that I might lose you, perhaps actually lose +you, torments me day and night." + +"But you don't yet possess me," said Wanda, and again she looked at +me with that vibrant, consuming expression, which had already once +before carried me away. Then she rose, and with her small transparent +hands placed a wreath of blue anemones upon the ringletted white head +of Venus. Half against my will I threw my arm around her body. + +"I can no longer live without you, oh wonderful woman," I said. +"Believe me, believe only this once, that this time it is not a +phrase, not a thing of dreams. I feel deep down in my innermost soul, +that my life belongs inseparably with yours. If you leave me, I shall +perish, go to pieces." + +"That will hardly be necessary, for I love you," she took hold of my +chin, "you foolish man!" + +"But you will be mine only under conditions, while I belong to you +unconditionally--" + +"That isn't wise, Severin," she replied almost with a start. "Don't +you know me yet, do you absolutely refuse to know me? I am good when +I am treated seriously and reasonably, but when you abandon yourself +too absolutely to me, I grow arrogant--" + +"So be it, be arrogant, be despotic," I cried in the fulness of +exaltation, "only be mine, mine forever." I lay at her feet, +embracing her knees. + +"Things will end badly, my friend," she said soberly, without moving. + +"It shall never end," I cried excitedly, almost violently. "Only death +shall part us. If you cannot be mine, all mine and for always, then _I +want to be your slave_, serve you, suffer everything from you, if only +you won't drive me away." + +"Calm yourself," she said, bending down and kissing my forehead, "I +am really very fond of you, but your way is not the way to win and +hold me." + +"I want to do everything, absolutely everything, that you want, only +not to lose you," I cried, "only not that, I cannot bear the thought." + +"Do get up." + +I obeyed. + +"You are a strange person," continued Wanda. "You wish to possess me +at any price?" + +"Yes, at any price." + +"But of what value, for instance, would that be?"--She pondered; a +lurking uncanny expression entered her eyes--"If I no longer loved +you, if I belonged to another." + +A shudder ran through me. I looked at her She stood firmly and +confident before me, and her eyes disclosed a cold gleam. + +"You see," she continued, "the very thought frightens you." A +beautiful smile suddenly illuminated her face. + +"I feel a perfect horror, when I imagine, that the woman I love and +who has responded to my love could give herself to another regardless +of me. But have I still a choice? If I love such a woman, even unto +madness, shall I turn my back to her and lose everything for the sake +of a bit of boastful strength; shall I send a bullet through my +brains? I have two ideals of woman. If I cannot obtain the one that +is noble and simple, the woman who will faithfully and truly share +my life, well then I don't want anything half-way or lukewarm. Then +I would rather be subject to a woman without virtue, fidelity, or pity. +Such a woman in her magnificent selfishness is likewise an ideal. If +I am not permitted to enjoy the happiness of love, fully and wholly, +I want to taste its pains and torments to the very dregs; I want to +be maltreated and betrayed by the woman I love, and the more cruelly +the better. This too is a luxury." + +"Have you lost your senses," cried Wanda. + +"I love you with all my soul," I continued, "with all my senses, and +your presence and personality are absolutely essential to me, if I +am to go on living. Choose between my ideals. Do with me what you will, +make of me your husband or your slave." + +"Very well," said Wanda, contracting her small but strongly arched +brows, "it seems to me it would be rather entertaining to have a man, +who interests me and loves me, completely in my power; at least I +shall not lack pastime. You were imprudent enough to leave the choice +to me. Therefore I choose; I want you to be my slave, I shall make +a plaything for myself out of you!" + +"Oh, please do," I cried half-shuddering, half-enraptured. "If the +foundation of marriage depends on equality and agreement, it is +likewise true that the greatest passions rise out of opposites. We +are such opposites, almost enemies. That is why my love is part hate, +part fear. In such a relation only one can be hammer and the other +anvil. I wish to be the anvil. I cannot be happy when I look down +upon the woman I love. I want to adore a woman, and this I can only +do when she is cruel towards me." + +"But, Severin," replied Wanda, almost angrily, "do you believe me +capable of maltreating a man who loves me as you do, and whom I love?" + +"Why not, if I adore you the more on this account? _It is possible to +love really only that which stands above us,_ a woman, who through her +beauty, temperament, intelligence, and strength of will subjugates us +and becomes a despot over us." + +"Then that which repels others, attracts you." + +"Yes. That is the strange part of me." + +"Perhaps, after all, there isn't anything so very unique or strange +in all your passions, for who doesn't love beautiful furs? And +everyone knows and feels how closely sexual love and cruelty are +related." + +"But in my case all these elements are raised to their highest +degree," I replied. + +"In other words, reason has little power over you, and you are by +nature, soft, sensual, yielding." + +"Were the martyrs also soft and sensual by nature?" + +"The martyrs?" + +"On the contrary, they were _supersensual men,_ who found enjoyment in +suffering. They sought out the most frightful tortures, even death +itself, as others seek joy, and as they were, so am I--_supersensual."_ + +"Have a care that in being such, you do not become a martyr to love, +the _martyr of a woman_." + +We are sitting on Wanda's little balcony in the mellow fragrant +summer night. A twofold roof is above us, first the green ceiling of +climbing-plants, and then the vault of heaven sown with innumerable +stars. The low wailing love-call of a cat rises from the park. I am +sitting on footstool at the feet of my divinity, and am telling her +of my childhood. + +"And even then all these strange tendencies were distinctly marked +in you?" asked Wanda. + +"Of course, I can't remember a time when I didn't have them. Even in +my cradle, so mother has told me, I was _supersensual._ I scorned the +healthy breast of my nurse, and had to be brought up on goats' milk. +As a little boy I was mysteriously shy before women, which really was +only an expression of an inordinate interest in them. I was oppressed +by the gray arches and half-darknesses of the church, and actually +afraid of the glittering altars and images of the saints. Secretly, +however, I sneaked as to a secret joy to a plaster-Venus which stood +in my father's little library. I kneeled down before her, and to her I +said the prayers I had been taught--the Paternoster, the Ave Maria, +and the Credo. + +"Once at night I left my bed to visit her. The sickle of the moon +was my light and showed me the goddess in a pale-blue cold light. I +prostrated myself before her and kissed her cold feet, as I had seen +our peasants do when they kissed the feet of the dead Savior. + +"An irresistible yearning seized me. + +"I got up and embraced the beautiful cold body and kissed the cold +lips. A deep shudder fell upon me and I fled, and later in a dream, +it seemed to me, as if the goddess stood beside my bed, threatening +me with up-raised arm. + +"I was sent to school early and soon reached the gymnasium. I +passionately grasped at everything which promised to make the world +of antiquity accessible to me. Soon I was more familiar with the gods +of Greece than with the religion of Jesus. I was with Paris when he +gave the fateful apple to Venus, I saw Troy burn, and followed +Ulysses on his wanderings. The prototypes of all that is beautiful +sank deep into my soul, and consequently at the time when other boys +are coarse and obscene, I displayed an insurmountable aversion to +everything base, vulgar, unbeautiful. + +"To me, the maturing youth, love for women seemed something +especially base and unbeautiful, for it showed itself to me first in +all its commonness. I avoided all contact with the fair sex; in +short, I was supersensual to madness. + +"When I was about fourteen my mother had a charming chamber-maid, +young, attractive, with a figure just budding into womanhood. I was +sitting one day studying my Tacitus and growing enthusiastic over the +virtues of the ancient Teutons, while she was sweeping my room. +Suddenly she stopped, bent down over me, in the meantime holding fast +to the broom, and a pair of fresh, full, adorable lips touched mine. +The kiss of the enamoured little cat ran through me like a shudder, +but I raised up my _Germania_, like a shield against the temptress, +and indignantly left the room." + +Wanda broke out in loud laughter. "It would, indeed, be hard to find +another man like you, but continue." + +"There is another unforgetable incident belonging to that period," +I continued my story. "Countess Sobol, a distant aunt of mine, was +visiting my parents. She was a beautiful majestic woman with an +attractive smile. I, however, hated her, for she was regarded by the +family as a sort of Messalina. My behavior toward her was as rude, +malicious, and awkward as possible. + +"One day my parents drove to the capital of the district. My aunt +determined to take advantage of their absence, and to exercise +judgment over me. She entered unexpectedly in her fur-lined +_kazabaika,_ [Footnote: A woman's jacket.] followed by the cook, +kitchen-maid, and the cat of a chamber-maid whom I had scorned. +Without asking any questions, they seized me and bound me hand and +foot, in spite of my violent resistance. Then my aunt, with an evil +smile, rolled up her sleeve and began to whip me with a stout switch. +She whipped so hard that the blood flowed, and that, at last, +notwithstanding my heroic spirit, I cried and wept and begged for +mercy. She then had me untied, but I had to get down on my knees and +thank her for the punishment and kiss her hand. + +"Now you understand the supersensual fool! Under the lash of a +beautiful woman my senses first realized the meaning of woman. In her +fur-jacket she seemed to me like a wrathful queen, and from then on +my aunt became the most desirable woman on God's earth. + +"My Cato-like austerity, my shyness before woman, was nothing but an +excessive feeling for beauty. In my imagination sensuality became a +sort of cult. I took an oath to myself that I would not squander its +holy wealth upon any ordinary person, but I would reserve it for an +ideal woman, if possible for the goddess of love herself. + +"I went to the university at a very early age. It was in the capital +where my aunt lived. My room looked at that time like Doctor +Faustus's. Everything in it was in a wild confusion. There were huge +closets stuffed full of books, which I bought for a song from a +Jewish dealer on the Servanica; [Footnote: The street of the Jews in +Lemberg.] there were globes, atlases, flasks, charts of the heavens, +skeletons of animals, skulls, the busts of eminent men. It looked as +though Mephistopheles might have stepped out from behind the huge +green store as a wandering scholiast at any moment. + +"I studied everything in a jumble without system, without selection: +chemistry, alchemy, history, astronomy, philosophy, law, anatomy, and +literature; I read Homer, Virgil, Ossian, Schiller, Goethe, +Shakespeare, Cervantes, Voltaire, Moliere, the Koran, the Kosmos, +Casanova's Memoirs. I grew more confused each day, more fantastical, +more supersensual. All the time a beautiful ideal woman hovered in my +imagination. Every so and so often she appeared before me like a +vision among my leather-bound books and dead bones, lying on a bed of +roses, surrounded by cupids. Sometimes she appeared gowned like the +Olympians with the stern white face of the plaster Venus; sometimes in +braids of a rich brown, blue-eyes, in my aunt's red velvet +_kazabaika,_ trimmed with ermine. + +"One morning when she had again risen out of the golden mist of my +imagination in all her smiling beauty, I went to see Countess Sobol, +who received me in a friendly, even cordial manner. She gave me a +kiss of welcome, which put all my senses in a turmoil. She was +probably about forty years old, but like most well-preserved women +of the world, still very attractive. She wore as always her fur-edged +jacket. This time it was one of green velvet with brown marten. But +nothing of the sternness which had so delighted me the other time was +now discernable. + +"On the contrary, there was so little of cruelty in her that without +any more ado she let me adore her. + +"Only too soon did she discover my supersensual folly and innocence, +and it pleased her to make me happy. As for myself--I was as happy +as a young god. What rapture for me to be allowed to lie before her +on my knees, and to kiss her hands, those with which she had scourged +me! What marvellous hands they were, of beautiful form, delicate, +rounded, and white, with adorable dimples! I really was in love with +her hands only. I played with them, let them submerge and emerge in +the dark fur, held them against the light, and was unable to satiate +my eyes with them." + +Wanda involuntarily looked at her hand; I noticed it, and had to +smile. + +"From the way in which the supersensual predominated in me in those +days you can see that I was in love only with the cruel lashes I +received from my aunt; and about two years later when I paid court +to a young actress only in the roles she played. Still later I became +the admirer of a respectable woman. She acted the part of +irreproachable virtue, only in the end to betray me with a rich Jew. +You see, it is because I was betrayed, sold, by a woman who feigned +the strictest principles and the highest ideals, that I hate that +sort of poetical, sentimental virtue so intensely. Give me rather a +woman who is honest enough to say to me: I am a Pompadour, a Lucretia +Borgia, and I am ready to adore her." + +Wanda rose and opened the window. + +"You have a curious way of arousing one's imagination, stimulating +all one's nerves, and making one's pulses beat faster. You put an +aureole on vice, provided only if it is honest. Your ideal is a +daring courtesan of genius. Oh, you are the kind of man who will +corrupt a woman to her very last fiber." + + * * * * * + +In the middle of the night there was a knock at my window; I got up, +opened it, and was startled. Without stood "Venus in Furs," just as +she had appeared to me the first time. + +"You have disturbed me with your stories; I have been tossing about +in bed, and can't go to sleep," she said. "Now come and stay with me." + +"In a moment." + +As I entered Wanda was crouching by the fireplace where she had +kindled a small fire. + +"Autumn is coming," she began, "the nights are really quite cold +already. I am afraid you may not like it, but I can't put off my furs +until the room is sufficiently warm." + +"Not like it--you are joking--you know--" I threw my arm around her, +and kissed her. + +"Of course, I know, but why this great fondness for furs?" + +"I was born with it," I replied. "I already had it as a child. +Furthermore furs have a stimulating effect on all highly organized +natures. This is due both to general and natural laws. It is a +physical stimulus which sets you tingling, and no one can wholly +escape it. Science has recently shown a certain relationship between +electricity and warmth; at any rate, their effects upon the human +organism are related. The torrid zone produces more passionate +characters, a heated atmosphere stimulation. Likewise with +electricity. This is the reason why the presence of cats exercises +such a magic influence upon highly-organized men of intellect. This +is why these long-tailed Graces of the animal kingdom, these +adorable, scintillating electric batteries have been the favorite +animal of a Mahommed, Cardinal Richelieu, Crebillon, Rousseau, +Wieland." + +"A woman wearing furs, then," cried Wanda, "is nothing else than a +large cat, an augmented electric battery?" + +"Certainly," I replied. "That is my explanation of the symbolic +meaning which fur has acquired as the attribute of power and beauty. +Monarchs and the dominant higher nobility in former times used it in +this sense for their costume, exclusively; great painters used it +only for queenly beauty. The most beautiful frame, which Raphael +could find for the divine forms of Fornarina and Titian for the +roseate body of his beloved, was dark furs." + +"Thanks for the learned discourse on love," said Wanda, "but you +haven't told me everything. You associate something entirely +individual with furs." + +"Certainly," I cried. "I have repeatedly told you that suffering has +a peculiar attraction for me. Nothing can intensify my passion more +than tyranny, cruelty, and especially the faithlessness of a +beautiful woman. And I cannot imagine this woman, this strange ideal +derived from an aesthetics of ugliness, this soul of Nero in the body +of a Phryne, except in furs." + +"I understand," Wanda interrupted. "It gives a dominant and imposing +quality to a woman." + +"Not only that," I continued. "You know I am _supersensual._ With me +everything has its roots in the imagination, and thence it receives +its nourishment. I was already pre-maturely developed and highly +sensitive, when at about the age of ten the legends of the martyrs +fell into my hands. I remember reading with a kind of horror, which +really was rapture, of how they pined in prisons, were laid on the +gridiron, pierced with arrows, boiled in pitch, thrown to wild +animals, nailed to the cross, and suffered the most horrible torment +with a kind of joy. To suffer and endure cruel torture from then on +seemed to me exquisite delight, especially when it was inflicted by a +beautiful woman, for ever since I can remember all poetry and +everything demonic was for me concentrated in woman. I literally +carried the idea into a sort of cult. + +"I felt there was something sacred in sex; in fact, it was the only +sacred thing. In woman and her beauty I saw something divine, because +the most important function of existence--the continuation of the +species--is her vocation. To me woman represented a personification of +nature, _Isis_, and man was her priest, her slave. In contrast to him +she was cruel like nature herself who tosses aside whatever has served +her purposes as soon as she no longer has need for it. To him her +cruelties, even death itself, still were sensual raptures. + +"I envied King Gunther whom the mighty Brunhilde fettered on the +bridal night, and the poor troubadour whom his capricious mistress +had sewed in the skins of wolves to have him hunted like game. I +envied the Knight Ctirad whom the daring Amazon Scharka craftily +ensnared in a forest near Prague, and carried to her castle Divin, +where, after having amused herself a while with him, she had him +broken on the wheel--" + +"Disgusting," cried Wanda. "I almost wish you might fall into the +hands of a woman of their savage race. In the wolf's skin, under the +teeth of the dogs, or upon the wheel, you would lose the taste for +your kind of poetry." + +"Do you think so? I hardly do." + +"Have you actually lost your senses." + +"Possibly. But let me go on. I developed a perfect passion for +reading stories in which the extremest cruelties were described. I +loved especially to look at pictures and prints which represented +them. All the sanguinary tyrants that ever occupied a throne; the +inquisitors who had the heretics tortured, roasted, and butchered; +all the woman whom the pages of history have recorded as lustful, +beautiful, and violent women like Libussa, Lucretia Borgia, Agnes of +Hungary, Queen Margot, Isabeau, the Sultana Roxolane, the Russian +Czarinas of last century--all these I saw in furs or in robes +bordered with ermine." + +"And so furs now rouse strange imaginings in you," said Wanda, and +simultaneously she began to drape her magnificent fur-cloak +coquettishly about her, so that the dark shining sable played +beautifully around her bust and arms. "Well, how do you feel now, +half broken on the wheel?" + +Her piercing green eyes rested on me with a peculiar mocking +satisfaction. Overcome by desire, I flung myself down before her, and +threw my arms about her. + +"Yes--you have awakened my dearest dream," I cried. "It has slept +long enough." + +"And this is?" She put her hand on my neck. + +I was seized with a sweet intoxication under the influence of this +warm little hand and of her regard, which, tenderly searching, fell +upon me through her half-closed lids. + +_"To be the slave of a woman, a beautiful woman, whom I love, whom +I worship."_ + +"And who on that account maltreats you," interrupted Wanda, laughing. + +"Yes, who fetters me and whips me, treads me underfoot, the while +she gives herself to another." + +"And who in her wantonness will go so far as to make a present of +you to your successful rival when driven insane by jealousy you must +meet him face to face, who will turn you over to his absolute mercy. +Why not? This final tableau doesn't please you so well?" + +I looked at Wanda frightened. + +"You surpass my dreams." + +"Yes, we women are inventive," she said, "take heed, when you find +your ideal, it might easily happen, that she will treat you more +cruelly than you anticipate." + +"I am afraid that I have already found my ideal!" I exclaimed, +burying my burning face in her lap. + +"Not I?" exclaimed Wanda, throwing off her furs and moving about the +room laughing. She was still laughing as I went downstairs, and when +I stood musing in the yard, I still heard her peals of laughter above. + + * * * * * + +"Do you really then expect me to embody your ideal?" Wanda asked +archly, when we met in the park to-day. + +At first I could find no answer. The most antagonistic emotions were +battling within me. In the meantime she sat down on one of the +stone-benches, and played with a flower. + +"Well--am I?" + +I kneeled down and seized her hands. + +"Once more I beg you to become my wife, my true and loyal wife; if +you can't do that then become the embodiment of my ideal, absolutely, +without reservation, without softness." + +"You know I am ready at the end of a year to give you my hand, if +you prove to be the man I am seeking," Wanda replied very seriously, +"but I think you would be more grateful to me if through me you +realized your imaginings. Well, which do you prefer?" + +"I believe that everything my imagination has dreamed lies latent in +your personality." + +"You are mistaken." + +"I believe," I continued, "that you enjoy having a man wholly in +your power, torturing him--" + +"No, no," she exclaimed quickly, "or perhaps--." She pondered. + +"I don't understand myself any longer," she continued, "but I have +a confession to make to you. You have corrupted my imagination and +inflamed my blood. I am beginning to like the things you speak of. +The enthusiasm with which you speak of a Pompadour, a Catherine the +Second, and all the other selfish, frivolous, cruel women, carries +me away and takes hold of my soul. It urges me on to become like those +women, who in spite of their vileness were slavishly adored during +their lifetime and still exert a miraculous power from their graves. + +"You will end by making of me a despot in miniature, a domestic +Pompadour." + +"Well then," I said in agitation, "if all this is inherent in you, +give way to this trend of your nature. Nothing half-way. If you can't +be a true and loyal wife to me, be a demon." + +I was nervous from loss of sleep, and the proximity of the beautiful +woman affected me like a fever. I no longer recall what I said, but +I remember that I kissed her feet, and finally raised her foot and +put my neck under it. She withdrew it quickly, and rose almost angrily. + +"If you love me, Severin," she said quickly, and her voice sounded +sharp and commanding, "never speak to me of those things again. +Understand, never! Otherwise I might really--" She smiled and sat +down again. + +"I am entirely serious," I exclaimed, half-raving. "I adore you so +infinitely that I am willing to suffer anything from you, for the +sake of spending my whole life near you." + +"Severin, once more I warn you." + +"Your warning is vain. Do with me what you will, as long as you +don't drive me away." + +"Severin," replied Wanda, "I am a frivolous young woman; it is +dangerous for you to put yourself so completely in my power. You will +end by actually becoming a plaything to me. Who will give warrant +that I shall not abuse your insane desire?" + +"Your own nobility of character." + +"Power makes people over-bearing." + +"Be it," I cried, "tread me underfoot." + +Wanda threw her arms around my neck, looked into my eyes, and shook +her head. + +"I am afraid I can't, but I will try, for your sake, for I love you +Severin, as I have loved no other man." + + * * * * * + +To-day she suddenly took her hat and shawl, and I had to go shopping +with her. She looked at whips, long whips with a short handle, the +kind that are used on dogs. + +"Are these satisfactory?" said the shopkeeper. + +"No, they are much too small," replied Wanda, with a side-glance at +me. "I need a large--" + +"For a bull-dog, I suppose?" opined the merchant. + +"Yes," she exclaimed, "of the kind that are used in Russia for +intractable slaves." + +She looked further and finally selected a whip, at whose sight I +felt a strange creeping sensation. + +"Now good-by, Severin," she said. "I have some other purchases to +make, but you can't go along." + +I left her and took a walk. On the way back I saw Wanda coming out +at a furrier's. She beckoned me. + +"Consider it well," she began in good spirits, "I have never made a +secret of how deeply your serious, dreamy character has fascinated +me. The idea of seeing this serious man wholly in my power, actually +lying enraptured at my feet, of course, stimulates me--but will this +attraction last? Woman loves a man; she maltreats a slave, and ends +by kicking him aside." + +"Very well then, kick me aside," I replied, "when you are tired of +me. I want to be your slave." + +"Dangerous forces lie within me," said Wanda, after we had gone a +few steps further. "You awaken them, and not to your advantage. You +know how to paint pleasure, cruelty, arrogance in glowing colors. +What would you say should I try my hand at them, and make you the +first object of my experiments. I would be like Dionysius who had the +inventor of the iron ox roasted within it in order to see whether his +wails and groans really resembled the bellowing of an ox. + +"Perhaps I am a female Dionysius?" + +"Be it," I exclaimed, "and my dreams will be fulfilled. I am yours +for good or evil, choose. The destiny that lies concealed within my +breast drives me on--demoniacally--relentlessly." + +"My Beloved, + +I do not care to see you to-day or to-morrow, and not until evening +the day after tomorrow, and then _as my slave_. + +Your mistress + +Wanda." + +"As my slave" was underlined. I read the note which I received early +in the morning a second time. Then I had a donkey saddled, an animal +symbolic of learned professors, and rode into the mountains. I wanted +to numb my desire, my yearning, with the magnificent scenery of the +Carpathians. I am back, tired, hungry, thirsty, and more in love than +ever. I quickly change my clothes, and a few moments later knock at +her door. + +"Come in!" + +I enter. She is standing in the center of the room, dressed in a gown +of white satin which floods down her body like light. Over it she +wears a scarlet _kazabaika_, richly edged with ermine. Upon her +powdered, snowy hair is a little diadem of diamonds. She stands with +her arms folded across her breast, and with her brows contracted. + +"Wanda!" I run toward her, and am about to throw my arm about her to +kiss her. She retreats a step, measuring me from top to bottom. + +"Slave!" + +"Mistress!" I kneel down, and kiss the hem of her garment. + +"That is as it should be." + +"Oh, how beautiful you are." + +"Do I please you?" She stepped before the mirror, and looked at +herself with proud satisfaction. + +"I shall become mad!" + +Her lower lip twitched derisively, and she looked at me mockingly +from behind half-closed lids. + +"Give me the whip." + +I looked about the room. + +"No," she exclaimed, "stay as you are, kneeling." She went over to +the fire-place, took the whip from the mantle-piece, and, watching +me with a smile, let it hiss through the air; then she slowly rolled +up the sleeve of her fur-jacket. + +"Marvellous woman!" I exclaimed. + +"Silence, slave!" She suddenly scowled, looked savage, and struck me +with the whip. A moment later she threw her arm tenderly about me, and +pityingly bent down to me. "Did I hurt you?" she asked, half-shyly, +half-timidly. + +"No," I replied, "and even if you had, pains that come through you +are a joy. Strike again, if it gives you pleasure." + +"But it doesn't give me pleasure." + +Again I was seized with that strange intoxication. + +"Whip me," I begged, "whip me without mercy." + +Wanda swung the whip, and hit me twice. "Are you satisfied now?" + +"No." + +"Seriously, no?" + +"Whip me, I beg you, it is a joy to me." + +"Yes, because you know very well that it isn't serious," she +replied, "because I haven't the heart to hurt you. This brutal game +goes against my grain. Were I really the woman who beats her slaves +you would be horrified." + +"No, Wanda," I replied, "I love you more than myself; I am devoted +to you for death and life. In all seriousness, you can do with me +whatever you will, whatever your caprice suggests." + +"Severin!" + +"Tread me underfoot!" I exclaimed, and flung myself face to the +floor before her. + +"I hate all this play-acting," said Wanda impatiently. + +"Well, then maltreat me seriously." + +An uncanny pause. + +"Severin, I warn you for the last time," began Wanda. + +"If you love me, be cruel towards me," I pleaded with upraised eyes. + +"If I love you," repeated Wanda. "Very well!" She stepped back and +looked at me with a sombre smile. _"Be then my slave, and know what +it means to be delivered into the hands of a woman."_ And at the +same moment she gave me a kick. + +"How do you like that, slave?" + +Then she flourished the whip. + +"Get up!" + +I was about to rise. + +"Not that way," she commanded, "on your knees." + +I obeyed, and she began to apply the lash. + +The blows fell rapidly and powerfully on my back and arms. Each one +cut into my flesh and burned there, but the pains enraptured me. They +came from her whom I adored, and for whom I was ready at any hour to +lay down my life. + +She stopped. "I am beginning to enjoy it," she said, "but enough for +to-day. I am beginning to feel a demonic curiosity to see how far +your strength goes. I take a cruel joy in seeing you tremble and +writhe beneath my whip, and in hearing your groans and wails; I want +to go on whipping without pity until you beg for mercy, until you +lose your senses. You have awakened dangerous elements in my being. +But now get up." + +I seized her hand to press it to my lips. + +"What impudence." + +She shoved me away with her foot. + +"Out of my sight, slave!" + + * * * * * + +After having spent a feverish night filled with confused dreams, I +awoke. Dawn was just beginning to break. + +How much of what was hovering in my memory was true; what had I +actually experienced and what had I dreamed? That I had been whipped +was certain. I can still feel each blow, and count the burning red +stripes on my body. And _she_ whipped me. Now I know everything. + +My dream has become truth. How does it make me feel? Am I +disappointed in the realization of my dream? + +No, I am merely somewhat tired, but her cruelty has enraptured me. +Oh, how I love her, adore her! All this cannot express in the +remotest way my feeling for her, my complete devotion to her. What +happiness to be her slave! + + * * * * * + +She calls to me from her balcony. I hurry upstairs. She is standing +on the threshold, holding out her hand in friendly fashion. "I am +ashamed of myself," she says, while I embrace her, and she hides her +head against my breast. + +"Why?" + +"Please try to forget the ugly scene of yesterday," she said with +quivering voice, "I have fulfilled your mad wish, now let us be +reasonable and happy and love each other, and in a year I will be +your wife." + +"My mistress," I exclaimed, "and I your slave!" + +"Not another word of slavery, cruelty, or the whip," interrupted +Wanda. "I shall not grant you any of those favors, none except +wearing my fur-jacket; come and help me into it." + + * * * * * + +The little bronze clock on which stood a cupid who had just shot his +bolt struck midnight. + +I rose, and wanted to leave. + +Wanda said nothing, but embraced me and drew me back on the ottoman. +She began to kiss me anew, and this silent language was so +comprehensible, so convincing-- + +And it told me more than I dared to understand. + +A languid abandonment pervaded Wanda's entire being. What a +voluptuous softness there was in the gloaming of her half-closed +eyes, in the red flood of her hair which shimmered faintly under the +white powder, in the red and white satin which crackled about her +with every movement, in the swelling ermine of the _kazabaika_ +in which she carelessly nestled. + +"Please," I stammered, "but you will be angry with me." + +"Do with me what you will," she whispered. + +"Well, then whip me, or I shall go mad." + +"Haven't I forbidden you," said Wanda sternly, "but you are +incorrigible." + +"Oh, I am so terribly in love." I had sunken on my knees, and was +burying my glowing face in her lap. + +"I really believe," said Wanda thoughtfully, "that your madness is +nothing but a demonic, unsatisfied sensuality. _Our unnatural way +of life must generate such illnesses._ Were you less virtuous, you +would be completely sane." + +"Well then, make me sane," I murmured. My hands were running through +her hair and playing tremblingly with the gleaming fur, which rose +and fell like a moonlit wave upon her heaving bosom, and drove all +my senses into confusion. + +And I kissed her. No, she kissed me savagely, pitilessly, as if she +wanted to slay me with her kisses. I was as in a delirium, and had +long since lost my reason, but now I, too, was breathless. I sought +to free myself. + +"What is the matter?" asked Wanda. + +"I am suffering agonies." + +"You are suffering--" she broke out into a loud amused laughter. + +"You laugh!" I moaned, "have you no idea--" + +She was serious all of a sudden. She raised my head in her hands, +and with a violent gesture drew me to her breast. + +"Wanda," I stammered. + +"Of course, you enjoy suffering," she said, and laughed again, "but +wait, I'll bring you to your senses." + +"No, I will no longer ask," I exclaimed, "whether you want to belong +to me for always or for only a brief moment of intoxication. I want +to drain my happiness to the full. You are mine now, and I would +rather lose you than never to have had you." + +"Now you are sensible," she said. She kissed me again with her +murderous lips. I tore the ermine apart and the covering of lace and +her naked breast surged against mine. + +Then my senses left me-- + +The first thing I remember is the moment when I saw blood dripping +from my hand, and she asked apathetically: "Did you scratch me?" + +"No, I believe, I have bitten you." + + * * * * * + +It is strange how every relation in life assumes a different face as +soon as a new person enters. + +We spent marvellous days together; we visited the mountains and +lakes, we read together, and I completed Wanda's portrait. And how +we loved one another, how beautiful her smiling face was! + +Then a friend of hers arrived, a divorced woman somewhat older, more +experienced, and less scrupulous than Wanda. Her influence is already +making itself felt in every direction. + +Wanda wrinkles her brows, and displays a certain impatience with me. + +Has she ceased loving me? + + * * * * * + +For almost a fortnight this unbearable restraint has lain upon us. +Her friend lives with her, and we are never alone. A circle of men +surrounds the young women. With my seriousness and melancholy I am +playing an absurd role as lover. Wanda treats me like a stranger. + +To-day, while out walking, she staid behind with me. I saw that this +was done intentionally, and I rejoiced. But what did she tell me? + +"My friend doesn't understand how I can love you. She doesn't think +you either handsome or particularly attractive otherwise. She is +telling me from morning till night about the glamour of the frivolous +life in the capital, hinting at the advantages to which I could lay +claim, the large parties which I would find there, and the +distinguished and handsome admirers which I would attract. But of +what use is all this, since it happens that I love you." + +For a moment I lost my breath, then I said: "I have no wish to stand +in the way of your happiness, Wanda. Do not consider me." Then I +raised my hat, and let her go ahead. She looked at me surprised, but +did not answer a syllable. + +When by chance I happened to be close to her on the way back, she +secretly pressed my hand. Her glance was so radiant, so full of +promised happiness, that in a moment all the torments of these days +were forgotten and all their wounds healed. + +I now am aware again of how much I love her. + + * * * * * + +"My friend has complained about you," said Wanda to-day. + +"Perhaps she feels that I despise her." + +"But why do you despise her, you foolish young man?" exclaimed +Wanda, pulling my ears with both hands. + +"Because she is a hypocrite," I said. "I respect only a woman who is +actually virtuous, or who openly lives for pleasure's sake." + +"Like me, for instance," replied Wanda jestingly, "but you see, +child, a woman can only do that in the rarest cases. She can neither +be as gaily sensual, nor as spiritually free as man; her state is +always a mixture of the sensual and spiritual. Her heart desires to +enchain man permanently, while she herself is ever subject to the +desire for change. The result is a conflict, and thus usually against +her wishes lies and deception enter into her actions and personality +and corrupt her character." + +"Certainly that is true," I said. "The transcendental character with +which woman wants to stamp love leads her to deception." + +"But the world likewise demands it," Wanda interrupted. "Look at +this woman. She has a husband and a lover in Lemberg and has found +a new admirer here. She deceives all three and yet is honored by all +and respected by the world." + +"I don't care," I exclaimed, "but she is to leave you alone; she +treats you like an article of commerce." + +"Why not?" the beautiful woman interrupted vivaciously. "Every woman +has the instinct or desire to draw advantage out of her attractions, +and much is to be said for giving one's self without love or pleasure +because if you do it in cold blood, you can reap profit to best +advantage." + +"Wanda, what are you saying?" + +"Why not?" she said, "and take note of what I am about to say to you. +_Never feel secure with the woman you love,_ for there are more +dangers in woman's nature than you imagine. Women are neither as +_good_ as their admirers and defenders maintain, nor as _bad_ as their +enemies make them out to be. _Woman's character is characterlessness._ +The best woman will momentarily go down into the mire, and the worst +unexpectedly rises to deeds of greatness and goodness and puts to +shame those that despise her. No woman is so good or so bad, but that +at any moment she is capable of the most diabolical as well as of the +most divine, of the filthiest as well as of the purest, thoughts, +emotions, and actions. In spite of all the advances of civilization, +woman has remained as she came out of the hand of nature. She has the +nature of a savage, who is faithful or faithless, magnanimous or +cruel, according to the impulse that dominates at the moment. +Throughout history it has always been a serious deep culture which has +produced moral character. Man even when he is selfish or evil always +follows _principles,_ woman never follows anything but _impulses._ +Don't ever forget that, and never feel secure with the woman you +love." + + * * * * * + +Her friend has left. At last an evening alone with her again. It +seems as if Wanda had saved up all the love, which had been kept from +her, for this superlative evening; never had she been so kind, so +near, so full of tenderness. + +What happiness to cling to her lips, and to die away in her arms! In +a state of relaxation and wholly mine, her head rests against my +breast, and with drunken rapture our eyes seek each other. + +I cannot yet believe, comprehend, that this woman is mine, wholly +mine. + +"She is right on one point," Wanda began, without moving, without +opening her eyes, as if she were asleep. + +"Who?" + +She remained silent. + +"Your friend?" + +She nodded. "Yes, she is right, you are not a man, you are a +dreamer, a charming cavalier, and you certainly would be a priceless +slave, but I cannot imagine you as husband." + +I was frightened. + +"What is the matter? You are trembling?" + +"I tremble at the thought of how easily I might lose you," I replied. + +"Are you made less happy now, because of this?" she replied. "Does +it rob you of any of your joys, that I have belonged to another +before I did to you, that others after you will possess me, and would +you enjoy less if another were made happy simultaneously with you?" + +"Wanda!" + +"You see," she continued, "that would be a way out. You won't ever +lose me then. I care deeply for you and intellectually we are +harmonious, and I should like to live with you always, if in addition +to you I might have--" + +"What an idea," I cried. "You fill me with a sort of horror." + +"Do you love me any the less?" + +"On the contrary." + +Wanda had raised herself on her left arm. "I believe," she said, +"that to hold a man permanently, it is vitally important not to be +faithful to him. What honest woman has ever been as devotedly loved +as a hetaira?" + +"There is a painful stimulus in the unfaithfulness of a beloved +woman. It is the highest kind of ecstacy." + +"For you, too?" Wanda asked quickly. + +"For me, too." + +"And if I should give you that pleasure," Wanda exclaimed mockingly. + +"I shall suffer terrible agonies, but I shall adore you the more," +I replied. "But you would never deceive me, you would have the daemonic +greatness of saying to me: I shall love no one but you, but I shall +make happy whoever pleases me." + +Wanda shook her head. "I don't like deception, I am honest, but what +man exists who can support the burden of truth. Were I say to you: +this serene, sensual life, this paganism is my ideal, would you be +strong enough to bear it?" + +"Certainly. I could endure anything so as not to lose you. I feel +how little I really mean to you." + +"But Severin--" + +"But it is so," said I, "and just for that reason--" + +"For that reason you would--" she smiled roguishly--"have I guessed +it?" + +"Be your slave!" I exclaimed. "Be your unrestricted property, +without a will of my own, of which you could dispose as you wished, +and which would therefore never be a burden to you. While you drink +life at its fullness, while surrounded by luxury, you enjoy the +serene happiness and Olympian love, I want to be your servant, put +on and take off your shoes." + +"You really aren't so far from wrong," replied Wanda, "for only as +my slave could you endure my loving others. Furthermore the freedom +of enjoyment of the ancient world is unthinkable without slavery. It +must give one a feeling of like unto a god to see a man kneel before +one and tremble. I want a slave, do you hear, Severin?" + +"Am I not your slave?" + +"Then listen to me," said Wanda excitedly, seizing my hand. "I want +to be yours, as long as I love you." + +"A month?" + +"Perhaps, even two." + +"And then?" + +"Then you become my slave." + +"And you?" + +"I? Why do you ask? I am a goddess and sometimes I descend from my +Olympian heights to you, softly, very softly, and secretly. + +"But what does all this mean," said Wanda, resting her head in both +hands with her gaze lost in the distance, "a golden fancy which never +can become true." An uncanny brooding melancholy seemed shed over her +entire being; I have never seen her like that. + +"Why unachievable?" I began. + +"Because slavery doesn't exist any longer." + +"Then we will go to a country where it still exists, to the Orient, +to Turkey," I said eagerly. + +"You would--Severin--in all seriousness," Wanda replied. Her eyes +burned. + +"Yes, in all seriousness, I want to be your slave," I continued. "I +want your power over me to be sanctified by law; I want my life to +be in your hands, I want nothing that could protect or save me from +you. Oh, what a voluptuous joy when once I feel myself entirely dependent +upon your absolute will, your whim, at your beck and call. And then +what happiness, when at some time you deign to be gracious, and the +slave may kiss the lips which mean life and death to him." I knelt +down, and leaned my burning forehead against her knee. + +"You are talking as in a fever," said Wanda agitatedly, "and you +really love me so endlessly." She held me to her breast, and covered +me with kisses. + +"You really want it?" + +"I swear to you now by God and my honor, that I shall be your slave, +wherever and whenever you wish it, as soon as you command," I +exclaimed, hardly master of myself. + +"And if I take you at your word?" said Wanda. + +"Please do!" + +"All this appeals to me," she said then. "It is different from +anything else--to know that a man who worships me, and whom I love +with all my heart, is so wholly mine, dependent on my will and +caprice, my possession and slave, while I--" + +She looked strangely at me. + +"If I should become frightfully frivolous you are to blame," she +continued. "It almost seems as if you were afraid of me already, but +you have sworn." + +"And I shall keep my oath." + +"I shall see to that," she replied. "I am beginning to enjoy it, +and, heaven help me, we won't stick to fancies now. You shall become +my slave, and I--I shall try to be _Venus in Furs_." + + * * * * * + +I thought that at last I knew this woman, understood her, and now I +see I have to begin at the very beginning again. Only a little while +ago her reaction to my dreams was violently hostile, and now she +tries to carry them into execution with the soberest seriousness. + +She has drawn up a contract according to which I give my word of +honor and agree under oath to be her slave, as long as she wishes. + +With her arm around my neck she reads this, unprecedented, +incredible document to me. The end of each sentence she punctuates +with a kiss. + +"But all the obligations in the contract are on my side," I said, +teasing her. + +"Of course," she replied with great seriousness, "you cease to be my +lover, and consequently I am released from all duties and obligations +towards you. You will have to look upon my favors as pure +benevolence. You no longer have any rights, and no longer can lay +claim to any. There can be no limit to my power over you. Remember, +that you won't be much better than a dog, or some inanimate object. +You will be mine, my plaything, which I can break to pieces, whenever +I want an hour's amusement. You are nothing, I am everything. Do you +understand?" She laughed and kissed me again, and yet a sort of cold +shiver ran through me. + +"Won't you allow me a few conditions--" I began. + +"Conditions?" She contracted her forehead. "Ah! You are afraid +already, or perhaps you regret, but it is too late now. You have +sworn, I have your word of honor. But let me hear them." + +"First of all I should like to have it included in our contract, +that you will never completely leave me, and then that you will never +give me over to the mercies of any of your admirers--" + +"But Severin," exclaimed Wanda with her voice full of emotion and +with tears in her eyes, "how can you imagine that I--and you, a man +who loves me so absolutely, who puts himself so entirely in my power--" +She halted. + +"No, no!" I said, covering her hands with kisses. "I don't fear +anything from you that might dishonor me. Forgive me the ugly +thought." + +Wanda smiled happily, leaned her cheek against mine, and seemed to +reflect. + +"You have forgotten something," she whispered coquettishly, "the +most important thing!" + +"A condition?" + +"Yes, that I must always wear my furs," exclaimed Wanda. "But I +promise you I'll do that anyhow because they give me a despotic +feeling. And I shall be very cruel to you, do you understand?" + +"Shall I sign the contract?" I asked. + +"Not yet," said Wanda. "I shall first add your conditions, and the +actual signing won't occur until the proper time and place." + +"In Constantinople?" + +"No. I have thought things over. What special value would there be +in owning a slave where everyone owns slaves. What I want is to +_have a slave, I alone,_ here in our civilized sober, Philistine +world, and a slave who submits helplessly to my power solely on +account of my beauty and personality, not because of law, of property +rights, or compulsions. This attracts me. But at any rate we will go +to a country where we are not known and where you can appear before +the world as my servant without embarrassment. Perhaps to Italy, to +Rome or Naples." + + * * * * * + +We were sitting on Wanda's ottoman. She wore her ermine jacket, her +hair was loose and fell like a lion's mane down her back. She clung +to my lips, drawing my soul from my body. My head whirled, my blood +began to seethe, my heart beat violently against hers. + +"I want to be absolutely in your power, Wanda," I exclaimed +suddenly, seized by that frenzy of passion when I can scarcely think +clearly or decide freely. "I want to put myself absolutely at your +mercy for good or evil without any condition, without any limit to +your power." + +While saying this I had slipped from the ottoman, and lay at her +feet looking up at her with drunken eyes. + +"How beautiful you now are," she exclaimed, "your eyes half-broken +in ecstacy fill me with joy, carry me away. How wonderful your look +would be if you were being beaten to death, in the extreme agony. You +have the eye of a martyr." + + * * * * * + +Sometimes, nevertheless, I have an uneasy feeling about placing +myself so absolutely, so unconditionally into a woman's hands. +Suppose she did abuse my passion, her power? + +Well, then I would experience what has occupied my imagination since +my childhood, what has always given me the feeling of seductive +terror. A foolish apprehension! It will be a wanton game she will play +with me, nothing more. She loves me, and she is good, a noble +personality, incapable of a breach of faith. But it lies in her hands +--_if she wants to she can._ What a temptation in this doubt, this +fear! + +Now I understand Manon l'Escault and the poor chevalier, who, even +in the pillory, while she was another man's mistress, still adored +her. + +Love knows no virtue, no profit; it loves and forgives and suffers +everything, because it must. It is not our judgment that leads us; +it is neither the advantages nor the faults which we discover, that +make us abandon ourselves, or that repel us. + +It is a sweet, soft, enigmatic power that drives us on. We cease to +think, to feel, to will; we let ourselves be carried away by it, and +ask not whither? + + * * * * * + +A Russian prince made his first appearance today on the promenade. +He aroused general interest on account of his athletic figure, +magnificent face, and splendid bearing. The women particularly gaped +at him as though he were a wild animal, but he went his way gloomily +without paying attention to any one. He was accompanied by two +servants, one a negro, completely dressed in red satin, and the other +a Circassian in his full gleaming uniform. Suddenly he saw Wanda, and +fixed his cold piercing look upon her; he even turned his head after +her, and when she had passed, he stood still and followed her with +his eyes. + +And she--she veritably devoured him with her radiant green eyes--and +did everything possible to meet him again. + +The cunning coquetry with which she walked, moved, and looked at +him, almost stifled me. On the way home I remarked about it. She knit +her brows. + +"What do you want," she said, "the prince is a man whom I might +like, who even dazzles me, and I am free. I can do what I please--" + +"Don't you love me any longer--" I stammered, frightened. + +"I love only you," she replied, "but I shall have the prince pay +court to me." + +"Wanda!" + +"Aren't you my slave?" she said calmly. "Am I not Venus, the cruel +northern Venus in Furs?" + +I was silent. I felt literally crushed by her words; her cold look +entered my heart like a dagger. + +"You will find out immediately the prince's name, residence, and +circumstances," she continued. "Do you understand?" + +"But--" + +"No argument, obey!" exclaimed Wanda, more sternly than I would have +thought possible for her, "and don't dare to enter my sight until you +can answer my questions." + +It was not till afternoon that I could obtain the desired +information for Wanda. She let me stand before her like a servant, +while she leaned back in her arm-chair and listened to me, smiling. +Then she nodded; she seemed to be satisfied. + +"Bring me my footstool," she commanded shortly. + +I obeyed, and after having put it before her and having put her feet +on it, I remained kneeling. + +"How will this end?" I asked sadly after a short pause. + +She broke into playful laughter. "Why things haven't even begun yet." + +"You are more heartless than I imagined," I replied, hurt. + +"Severin," Wanda began earnestly. "I haven't done anything yet, not +the slightest thing, and you are already calling me heartless. What +will happen when I begin to carry your dreams to their realization, +when I shall lead a gay, free life and have a circle of admirers +about me, when I shall actually fulfil your ideal, tread you +underfoot and apply the lash?" + +"You take my dreams too seriously." + +"Too seriously? I can't stop at make-believe, when once I begin," +she replied. "You know I hate all play-acting and comedy. You have +wished it. Was it my idea or yours? Did I persuade you or did you +inflame my imagination? I am taking things seriously now." + +"Wanda," I replied, caressingly, "listen quietly to me. We love each +other infinitely, we are very happy, will you sacrifice our entire +future to a whim?" + +"It is no longer a whim," she exclaimed. + +"What is it?" I asked frightened. + +"Something that was probably latent in me," she said quietly and +thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would never have come to light, if you had +not called it to life, and made it grow. Now that it has become a +powerful impulse, fills my whole being, now that I enjoy it, now that +I cannot and do not want to do otherwise, now you want to back out-- +you--are you a man?" + +"Dear, sweet Wanda!" I began to caress her, kiss her. + +"Don't--you are not a man--" + +"And you," I flared up. + +"I am stubborn," she said, "you know that. I haven't a strong +imagination, and like you I am weak in execution. But when I make up +my mind to do something, I carry it through, and the more certainly, +the more opposition I meet. Leave me alone!" + +She pushed me away, and got up. + +"Wanda!" I likewise rose, and stood facing her. + +"Now you know what I am," she continued. "Once more I warn you. You +still have the choice. I am not compelling you to be my slave." + +"Wanda," I replied with emotion and tears filling my eyes, "don't +you know how I love you?" + +Her lips quivered contemptuously. + +"You are mistaken, you make yourself out worse than you are; you are +good and noble by nature--" + +"What do you know about my nature," she interrupted vehemently, "you +will get to know me as I am." + +"Wanda!" + +"Decide, will you submit, unconditionally?" + +"And if I say no." + +"Then--" + +She stepped close up to me, cold and contemptuous. As she stood +before me now, the arms folded across her breast, with an evil smile +about her lips, she was in fact the despotic woman of my dreams. Her +expression seemed hard, and nothing lay in her eyes that promised +kindness or mercy. + +"Well--" she said at last. + +"You are angry," I cried, "you will punish me." + +"Oh no!" she replied, "I shall let you go. You are free. I am not +holding you." + +"Wanda--I, who love you so--" + +"Yes, you, my dear sir, you who adore me," she exclaimed +contemptuously, "but who are a coward, a liar, and a breaker of +promises. Leave me instantly--" + +"Wanda I--" + +"Wretch!" + +My blood rose in my heart. I threw myself down at her feet and began +to cry. + +"Tears, too!" She began to laugh. Oh, this laughter was frightful. +"Leave me--I don't want to see you again." + +"Oh my God!" I cried, beside myself. "I will do whatever you +command, be your slave, a mere object with which you can do what you +will--only don't send me away--I can't bear it--I cannot live without +you." I embraced her knees, and covered her hand with kisses. + +"Yes, you must be a slave, and feel the lash, for you are not a +man," she said calmly. She said this to me with perfect composure, +not angrily, not even excitedly, and it was what hurt most. "Now I +know you, your dog-like nature, that adores where it is kicked, and +the more, the more it is maltreated. Now I know you, and now you +shall come to know me." + +She walked up and down with long strides, while I remained crushed +on my knees; my head was hanging supine, tears flowed from my eyes. + +"Come here," Wanda commanded harshly, sitting down on the ottoman. +I obeyed her command, and sat down beside her. She looked at me +sombrely, and then a light suddenly seemed to illuminate the interior +of her eye. Smiling, she drew me toward her breast, and began to kiss +the tears out of my eyes. + + * * * * * + +The odd part of my situation is that I am like the bear in Lily's +park. I can escape and don't want to; I am ready to endure everything +as soon as she threatens to set me free. + + * * * * * + +If only she would use the whip again. There is something uncanny in +the kindness with which she treats me. I seem like a little captive +mouse with which a beautiful cat prettily plays. She is ready at any +moment to tear it to pieces, and my heart of a mouse threatens to +burst. + +What are her intentions? What does she purpose to do with me? + + * * * * * + +It seems she has completely forgotten the contract, my slavehood. Or +was it actually only stubbornness? And she gave up her whole plan as +soon as I no longer opposed her and submitted to her imperial whim? + +How kind she is to me, how tender, how loving! We are spending +marvellously happy days. + +To-day she had me read to her the scene between Faust and +Mephistopheles, in which the latter appears as a wandering scholar. +Her glance hung on me with strange pleasure. + +"I don't understand," she said when I had finished, "how a man who +can read such great and beautiful thoughts with such expression, and +interpret them so clearly, concisely, and intelligently, can at the +same time be such a visionary and supersensual ninny as you are." + +"Were you pleased," said I, and kissed her forehead. + +She gently stroked my brow. "I love you, Severin," she whispered. "I +don't believe I could ever love any one more than you. Let us be +sensible, what do you say?" + +Instead of replying I folded her in my arms; a deep inward, yet +vaguely sad happiness filled my breast, my eyes grew moist, and a +tear fell upon her hand. + +"How can you cry!" she exclaimed, "you are a child!" + + * * * * * + +On a pleasure drive we met the Russian prince in his carriage. He +seemed to be unpleasantly surprised to see me by Wanda's side, and +looked as if he wanted to pierce her through and through with his +electric gray eyes. She, however, did not seem to notice him. I felt +at that moment like kneeling down before her and kissing her feet. +She let her glance glide over him indifferently as though he were an +inanimate object, a tree, for instance, and turned to me with her +gracious smile. + + * * * * * + +When I said good-night to her to-day she seemed suddenly +unaccountably distracted and moody. What was occupying her? + +"I am sorry you are going," she said when I was already standing on +the threshold. + +"It is entirely in your hands to shorten the hard period of my +trial, to cease tormenting me--" I pleaded. + +"Do you imagine that this compulsion isn't a torment for me, too," +Wanda interjected. + +"Then end it," I exclaimed, embracing her, "be my wife." + +"_Never, Severin_," she said gently, but with great firmness. + +"What do you mean?" + +I was frightened in my innermost soul. + +"_You are not the man for me._" + +I looked at her, and slowly withdrew my arm which was still about +her waist; then I left the room, and she--she did not call me back. + + * * * * * + +A sleepless night; I made countless decisions, only to toss them +aside again. In the morning I wrote her a letter in which I declared +our relationship dissolved. My hand trembled when I put on the seal, +and I burned my fingers. + +As I went upstairs to hand it to the maid, my knees threatened to +give way. + +The door opened, and Wanda thrust forth her head full of curling-papers. + +"I haven't had my hair dressed yet," she said, smiling. "What have +you there?" + +"A letter--" + +"For me?" + +I nodded. + +"Ah, you want to break with me," she exclaimed, mockingly. + +"Didn't you tell me yesterday that I wasn't the man for you?" + +_"I repeat it now!"_ + +"Very well, then." My whole body was trembling, my voice failed me, +and I handed her the letter. + +"Keep it," she said, measuring me coldly. "You forget that is no +longer a question as to whether you satisfy me as a man; as a _slave_ +you will doubtless do well enough." + +"Madame!" I exclaimed, aghast. + +"That is what you will call me in the future," replied Wanda, +throwing back her head with a movement of unutterable contempt. "Put +your affairs in order within the next twenty-four hours. The day +after to-morrow I shall start for Italy, and you will accompany me +as my servant." + +"Wanda--" + +"I forbid any sort of familiarity," she said, cutting my words short, +"likewise you are not to come in unless I call or ring for you, and +you are not to speak to me until you are spoken to. From now on your +name is no longer Severin, but _Gregor_." + +I trembled with rage, and yet, unfortunately, I cannot deny it, I +also felt a strange pleasure and stimulation. + +"But, madame, you know my circumstances," I began in my confusion. +"I am dependent on my father, and I doubt whether he will give me the +large sum of money needed for this journey--" + +"That means you have no money, Gregor," said Wanda, delightedly, "so +much the better, you are then entirely dependent on me, and in fact +my slave." + +"You don't consider," I tried to object, "that as man of honor it is +impossible for me--" + +"I have indeed considered it," she replied almost with a tone of +command. "As a man of honor you must keep your oath and redeem your +promise to follow me as slave whithersoever I demand and to obey +whatever I command. Now leave me, Gregor!" + +I turned toward the door. + +"Not yet--you may first kiss my hand." She held it out to me with a +certain proud indifference, and I the dilettante, the donkey, the +miserable slave pressed it with intense tenderness against my lips +which were dry and hot with excitement. + +There was another gracious nod of the head. + +Then I was dismissed. + + * * * * * + +Though it was late in the evening my light was still lit, and a fire +was burning in the large green stove. There were still many things +among my letters and documents to be put in order. Autumn, as is +usually the case with us, had fallen with all its power. + +Suddenly she knocked at my window with the handle of her whip. + +I opened and saw her standing outside in her ermine-lined jacket and +in a high round Cossack cap of ermine of the kind which the great +Catherine favored. + +"Are you ready, Gregor?" she asked darkly. + +"Not yet, mistress," I replied. + +"I like that word," she said then, "you are always to call me +mistress, do you understand? We leave here to-morrow morning at nine +o'clock. As far as the district capital you will be my companion and +friend, but from the moment that we enter the railway-coach you are +my slave, my servant. Now close the window, and open the door." + +After I had done as she had demanded, and after she had entered, she +asked, contracting her brows ironically, "well, how do you like me." + +"Wanda, you--" + +"Who gave you permission?" She gave me a blow with the whip. + +"You are very beautiful, mistress." + +Wanda smiled and sat down in the arm-chair. "Kneel down--here beside +my chair." + +I obeyed. + +"Kiss my hand." + +I seized her small cold hand and kissed it. + +"And the mouth--" + +In a surge of passion I threw my arms around the beautiful cruel +woman, and covered her face, arms, and breast with glowing kisses. +She returned them with equal fervor--the eyelids closed as in a +dream. It was after midnight when she left. + + * * * * * + +At nine o'clock sharp in the morning everything was ready for departure, +as she had ordered. We left the little Carpathian health-resort in a +comfortable light carriage. The most interesting drama of my life had +reached a point of development whose denouement it was then impossible +to foretell. + +So far everything went well. I sat beside Wanda, and she chatted +very graciously and intelligently with me, as with a good friend, +concerning Italy, Pisemski's new novel, and Wagner's music. She wore +a sort of Amazonesque travelling-dress of black cloth with a short +jacket of the same material, set with dark fur. It fitted closely and +showed her figure to best advantage. Over it she wore dark furs. Her +hair wound into an antique knot, lay beneath a small dark fur-hat +from which a black veil hung. Wanda was in very good humor; she fed +me candies, played with my hair, loosened my neck cloth and made a +pretty cockade of it; she covered my knees with her furs and +stealthily pressed the fingers of my hand. When our Jewish driver +persistently went on nodding to himself, she even gave me a kiss, and +her cold lips had the fresh frosty fragrance of a young autumnal +rose, which blossoms alone amid bare stalks and yellow leaves and +upon whose calyx the first frost has hung tiny diamonds of ice. + + * * * * * + +We are at the district capital. We get out at the railway station. +Wanda throws off her furs and places them over my arm, and goes +to secure the tickets. + +When she returns she has completely changed. + +"Here is your ticket, Gregor," she says in a tone which supercilious +ladies use to their servants. + +"A third-class ticket," I reply with comic horror. + +"Of course," she continues, "but now be careful. You won't get on +until I am settled in my compartment and don't need you any longer. +At each station you will hurry to my car and ask for my orders. Don't +forget. And now give me my furs." + +After I had helped her into them, humbly like a slave, she went to +find an empty first-class coupe. I followed. Supporting herself on +my shoulder, she got on and I wrapped her feet in bear-skins and placed +them on the warming bottle. + +Then she nodded to me, and dismissed me. I slowly ascended a third-class +carriage, which was filled with abominable tobacco-smoke that seemed +like the fogs of Acheron at the entrance to Hades. I now had the leisure +to muse about the riddle of human existence, and about its greatest +riddle of all--_woman_. + + * * * * * + +Whenever the train stops, I jump off, run to her carriage, and with +drawn cap await her orders. She wants coffee and then a glass of +water, at another time a bowl of warm water to wash her hands, and +thus it goes on. She lets several men who have entered her +compartment pay court to her. I am dying of jealousy and have to leap +about like an antelope so as to secure what she wants quickly and +not miss the train. + +In this way the night passes. I haven't had time to eat a mouthful +and I can't sleep, I have to breathe the same oniony air with Polish +peasants, Jewish peddlers, and common soldiers. + +When I mount the steps of her coupe, she is lying stretched out +on cushions in her comfortable furs, covered up with the skins of +animals. She is like an oriental despot, and the men sit like Indian +deities, straight upright against the walls and scarcely dare to +breathe. + + * * * * * + +She stops over in Vienna for a day to go shopping, and particularly +to buy series of luxurious gowns. She continues to treat me as her +servant. I follow her at the respectful distance of ten paces. She +hands me her packages without so much as even deigning a kind look, +and laden down like a donkey I pant along behind. + +Before leaving she takes all my clothes and gives them to the hotel +waiters. I am ordered to put on her livery. It is a Cracovian costume +in her colors, light-blue with red facings, and red quadrangular cap, +ornamented with peacock-feathers. The costume is rather becoming to +me. + +The silver buttons bear her coat of arms. I have the feeling of having +been sold or of having bonded myself to the devil. My fair demon leads +me from Vienna to Florence. Instead of linen-garbed Mazovians and +greasy-haired Jews, my companions now are curly-haired Contadini, a +magnificent sergeant of the first Italian Grenadiers, and a poor German +painter. The tobacco smoke no longer smells of onions, but of salami and +cheese. + +Night has fallen again. I lie on my wooden bed as on a rack; my arms and +legs seem broken. But there nevertheless is an element of poetry in the +affair. The stars sparkle round about, the Italian sergeant has a face +like Apollo Belvedere, and the German painter sings a lovely German +song. + + "Now that all the shadows gather + And endless stars grow light, + Deep yearning on me falls + And softly fills the night." + + "Through the sea of dreams + Sailing without cease, + Sailing goes my soul + In thine to find release." + +And I am thinking of the beautiful woman who is sleeping in regal +comfort among her soft furs. + + * * * * * + +Florence! Crowds, cries, importunate porters and cab-drivers. Wanda +chooses a carriage, and dismisses the porters. + +"What have I a servant for," she says, "Gregor--here is the ticket-- +get the luggage." + +She wraps herself in her furs and sits quietly in the carriage while I +drag the heavy trunks hither, one after another. I break down for a +moment under the last one; a good-natured _carabiniere_ with an +intelligent face comes to my assistance. She laughs. + +"It must be heavy," said she, "all my furs are in it." + +I get up on the driver's seat, wiping drops of perspiration from my +brow. She gives the name of the hotel, and the driver urges on his +horse. In a few minutes we halt at the brilliantly illuminated +entrance. + +"Have you any rooms?" she asks the portier. + +"Yes, madame." + +"Two for me, one for my servant, all with stoves." + +"Two first-class rooms for you, madame, both with stoves," replied +the waiter who had hastily come up, "and one without heat for your +servant." + +She looked at them, and then abruptly said: "they are satisfactory, +have fires built at once; my servant can sleep in the unheated room." + +I merely looked at her. + +"Bring up the trunks, Gregor," she commands, paying no attention to +my looks. "In the meantime I'll be dressing, and then will go down +to the dining-room, and you can eat something for supper." + +As she goes into the adjoining room, I drag the trunks upstairs and +help the waiter build a fire in her bed-room. He tries to question +me in bad French about my employer. With a brief glance I see the +blazing fire, the fragrant white poster-bed, and the rugs which cover +the floor. Tired and hungry I then descend the stairs, and ask for +something to eat. A good-natured waiter, who used to be in the +Austrian army and takes all sorts of pains to entertain me in German, +shows me the dining-room and waits on me. I have just had the first +fresh drink in thirty-six hours and the first bite of warm food on +my fork, when she enters. + +I rise. + +"What do you mean by taking me into a dining-room in which my +servant is eating," she snaps at the waiter, flaring with anger. She +turns around and leaves. + +Meanwhile I thank heaven that I am permitted to go on eating. Later +I climb the four flights upstairs to my room. My small trunk is +already there, and a miserable little oil-lamp is burning. It is a +narrow room without fire-place, without a window, but with a small +air-hole. If it weren't so beastly cold, it would remind me of one +of the Venetian _piombi_. [Footnote: These were notorious prisons +under the leaden roof of the Palace of the Doges.] Involuntarily I +have to laugh out aloud, so that it re-echoes, and I am startled by +my own laughter. + +Suddenly the door is pulled open and the waiter with a theatrical +Italian gesture calls "You are to come down to madame, at once." I +pick up my cap, stumble down the first few steps, but finally arrive +in front of her door on the first floor and knock. + +"Come in!" + +I enter, shut the door, and stand attention. + +Wanda has made herself comfortable. She is sitting in a neglige of +white muslin and laces on a small red divan with her feet on a +footstool that matches. She has thrown her fur-cloak about her. It +is the identical cloak in which she appeared to me for the first time, +as goddess of love. + +The yellow lights of the candelabra which stand on projections, +their reflections in the large mirrors, and the red flames from the +open fireplace play beautifully on the green velvet, the dark-brown +sable of the cloak, the smooth white skin, and the red, flaming hair +of the beautiful woman. Her clear, but cold face is turned toward me, +and her cold green eyes rest upon me. + +"I am satisfied with you, Gregor," she began. + +I bowed. + +"Come closer." + +I obeyed. + +"Still closer," she looked down, and stroked the sable with her +hand. "Venus in Furs receives her slave. I can see that you are more +than an ordinary dreamer, you don't remain far in arrears of your +dreams; you are the sort of man who is ready to carry his dreams into +effect, no matter how mad they are. I confess, I like this; it +impresses me. There is strength in this, and strength is the only +thing one respects. I actually believe that under unusual +circumstances, in a period of great deeds, what seems to be your +weakness would reveal itself as extraordinary power. Under the early +emperors you would have been a martyr, at the time of the Reformation +an anabaptist, during the French Revolution one of those inspired +Girondists who mounted the guillotine with the marseillaise on their +lips. But you are my slave, my--" + +She suddenly leaped up; the furs slipped down, and she threw her +arms with soft pressure about my neck. + +"My beloved slave, Severin, oh, how I love you, how I adore you, how +handsome you are in your Cracovian costume! You will be cold to-night +up in your wretched room without a fire. Shall I give you one of my +furs, dear heart, the large one there--" + +She quickly picked it up, throwing it over my shoulders, and before +I knew what had happened I was completely wrapped up in it. + +"How wonderfully becoming furs are to your face, they bring out your +noble lines. As soon as you cease being my slave, you must wear a +velvet coat with sable, do you understand? Otherwise I shall never +put on my fur-jacket again." + +And again she began to caress me and kiss me; finally she drew me +down on the little divan. + +"You seem to be pleased with yourself in furs," she said. "Quick, +quick, give them to me, or I will lose all sense of dignity." + +I placed the furs about her, and Wanda slipped her right arm into +the sleeve. + +"This is the pose in Titian's picture. But now enough of joking. +Don't always look so solemn, it makes me feel sad. As far as the +world is concerned you are still merely my servant; you are not yet +my slave, for you have not yet signed the contract. You are still +free, and can leave me any moment. You have played your part +magnificently. I have been delighted, but aren't you tired of it +already, and don't you think I am abominable? Well, say something--I +command it." + +"Must I confess to you, Wanda?" I began. + +"Yes, you must." + +"Even if you take advantage of it," I continued, "I shall love you +the more deeply, adore you the more fanatically, the worse you treat +me. What you have just done inflames my blood and intoxicates all my +senses." I held her close to me and clung for several moments to her +moist lips. + +"Oh, you beautiful woman," I then exclaimed, looking at her. In my +enthusiasm I tore the sable from her shoulders and pressed my mouth +against her neck. + +"You love me even when I am cruel," said Wanda, "now go!--you bore +me--don't you hear?" + +She boxed my ears so that I saw stars and bells rang in my ears. + +"Help me into my furs, slave." + +I helped her, as well as I could. + +"How awkward," she exclaimed, and was scarcely in it before she +struck me in the face again. I felt myself growing pale. + +"Did I hurt you?" she asked, softly touching me with her hand. + +"No, no," I exclaimed. + +"At any rate you have no reason to complain, you want it thus; now +kiss me again." + +I threw my arms about her, and her lips clung closely to mine. As +she lay against my breast in her large heavy furs, I had a curiously +oppressive sensation. It was as if a wild beast, a she-bear, were +embracing me. It seemed as if I were about to feel her claws in my +flesh. But this time the she-bear let me off easily. + +With my heart filled with smiling hopes, I went up to my miserable +servant's room, and threw myself down on my hard couch. + +"Life is really amazingly droll," I thought. "A short time ago the +most beautiful woman, Venus herself, rested against your breast, and +now you have an opportunity for studying the Chinese hell. Unlike us, +they don't hurl the damned into flames, but they have devils chasing +them out into fields of ice. + +"Very likely the founders of their religion also slept in unheated +rooms." + + * * * * * + +During the night I startled out of my sleep with a scream. I had +been dreaming of an icefield in which I had lost my way; I had been +looking in vain for a way out. Suddenly an eskimo drove up in a +sleigh harnessed with reindeer; he had the face of the waiter who had +shown me to the unheated room. + +"What are you looking for here, my dear sir?" he exclaimed. "This is +the North Pole." + +A moment later he had disappeared, and Wanda flew over the smooth +ice on tiny skates. Her white satin skirt fluttered and crackled; the +ermine of her jacket and cap, but especially her face, gleamed whiter +than the snow. She shot toward me, inclosed me in her arms, and began +to kiss me. Suddenly I felt my blood running warm down my side. + +"What are you doing?" I asked horror-stricken. + +She laughed, and as I looked at her now, it was no longer Wanda, but +a huge, white she-bear, who was digging her paws into my body. + +I cried out in despair, and still heard her diabolical laughter when +I awoke, and looked about the room in surprise. + +Early in the morning I stood at Wanda's door, and the waiter brought +the coffee. I took it from him, and served it to my beautiful +mistress. She had already dressed, and looked magnificent, all fresh +and roseate. She smiled graciously at me and called me back, when I +was about to withdraw respectfully. + +"Come, Gregor, have your breakfast quickly too," she said, "then we +will go house-hunting. I don't want to stay in the hotel any longer +than I have to. It is very embarassing here. If I chat with you for +more than a minute, people will immediately say: 'The fair Russian +is having an affair with her servant, you see, the race of Catherines +isn't extinct yet.'" + +Half an hour later we went out; Wanda was in her cloth-gown with the +Russian cap, and I in my Cracovian costume. We created quite a stir. I +walked about ten paces behind, looking very solemn, but expected +momentarily to have to break out into loud laughter. There was scarcely +a street in which one or the other of the attractive houses did not bear +the sign _camere ammobiliate_. Wanda always sent me upstairs, and only +when the apartment seemed to answer her requirements did she herself +ascend. By noon I was as tired as a stag-hound after the hunt. + +We entered a new house and left it again without having found a suitable +habitation. Wanda was already somewhat out of humor. Suddenly she said +to me: "Severin, the seriousness with which you play your part is +charming, and the restrictions, which we have placed upon each other are +really annoying me. I can't stand it any longer, I do love you, I must +kiss you. Let's go into one of the houses." + +"But, my lady--" I interposed. + +"Gregor?" She entered the next open corridor and ascended a few +steps of the dark stair-way; then she threw her arms about me with +passionate tenderness and kissed me. + +"Oh, Severin, you were very wise. You are much more dangerous as +slave than I would have imagined; you are positively irrestible, and +I am afraid I shall have to fall in love with you again." + +"Don't you love me any longer then," I asked seized by a sudden +fright. + +She solemnly shook her head, but kissed me again with her swelling, +adorable lips. + +We returned to the hotel. Wanda had luncheon, and ordered me also +quickly to get something to eat. + +Of course, I wasn't served as quickly as she, and so it happened +that just as I was carrying the second bite of my steak to my mouth, +the waiter entered and called out with his theatrical gesture: +"Madame wants you, at once." + +I took a rapid and painful leave of my food, and, tired and hungry, +hurried toward Wanda, who was already on the street. + +"I wouldn't have imagined you could be so cruel," I said +reproachfully. "With all these, fatiguing duties you don't even leave +me time to eat in peace." + +Wanda laughed gaily. "I thought you had finished," she said, "but +never mind. Man was born to suffer, and you in particular. The +martyrs didn't have any beefsteaks either." + +I followed her resentfully, gnawing at my hunger. + +"I have given up the idea of finding a place in the city," Wanda +continued. "It will be difficult to find an entire floor which is +shut off and where you can do as you please. In such a strange, mad +relationship as ours there must be no jarring note. I shall rent an +entire villa--and you will be surprised. You have my permission now +to satisfy your hunger, and look about a bit in Florence. I won't be +home till evening. If I need you then, I will have you called." + +I looked at the Duomo, the Palazzo Vecchio, the Logia di Lanzi, and +then I stood for a long time on the banks of the Arno. Again and +again I let my eyes rest on the magnificent ancient Florence, whose +round cupolas and towers were drawn in soft lines against the blue, +cloudless sky. I watched its splendid bridges beneath whose wide +arches the lively waves of the beautiful, yellow river ran, and the +green hills which surrounded the city, bearing slender cypresses and +extensive buildings, palaces and monasteries. + +It is a different world, this one in which we are--a gay, sensuous, +smiling world. The landscape too has nothing of the seriousness and +somberness of ours. It is a long ways off to the last white villas +scattered among the pale green of the mountains, and yet there isn't +a spot that isn't bright with sunlight. The people are less serious +than we; perhaps, they think less, but they all look as though they +were happy. + +It is also maintained that death is easier in the South. + +I have a vague feeling now that such a thing as beauty without thorn +and love of the senses without torment does exist. + +Wanda has discovered a delightful little villa and rented it for the +winter. It is situated on a charming hill on the left bank of the +Arno, opposite the Cascine. It is surrounded by an attractive garden +with lovely paths, grass plots, and magnificent meadow of camelias. +It is only two stories high, quadrangular in the Italian fashion. An +open gallery runs along one side, a sort of loggia with plaster-casts +of antique statues; stone steps lead from it down into the garden. +From the gallery you enter a bath with a magnificent marble basin, +from which winding stairs lead to my mistress' bed-chamber. + +Wanda occupies the second story by herself. + +A room on the ground floor has been assigned to me; it is very +attractive, and even has a fireplace. + +I have roamed through the garden. On a round hillock I discovered a +little temple, but I found its door locked. However, there is a chink +in the door and when I glue my eye to it, I see the goddess of love +on a white pedestal. + +A slight shudder passes over me. It seems to me as if she were +smiling at me saying: "Are you there? I have been expecting you." + + * * * * * + +It is evening. An attractive maid brings me orders to appear before +my mistress. I ascend the wide marble stairs, pass through the +anteroom, a large salon furnished with extravagant magnificence, and +knock at the door of the bedroom. I knock very softly for the luxury +displayed everywhere intimidates me. Consequently no one hears me, +and I stand for some time in front of the door. I have a feeling as +if I were standing before the bed-room of the great Catherine, and +it seems as if at any moment she might come out in her green sleeping +furs, with the red ribbon and decoration on her bare breast, and with +her little white powdered curls. + +I knocked again. Wanda impatiently pulls the door open. + +"Why so late?" she asks. + +"I was standing in front of the door, but you didn't hear me knock," +I reply timidly. She closes the door, and clinging to me, she leads +me to the red damask ottoman on which she had been resting. The +entire arrangement of the room is in red damask--wall-paper, +curtains, portieres, hangings of the bed. A magnificent painting of +Samson and Delilah forms the ceiling. + +Wanda receives me in an intoxicating dishabille. Her white satin +dress flows gracefully and picturesquely down her slender body, +leaving her arms and breast bare, and carelessly they nestle amid the +dark hair of the great fur of sable, lined with green velvet. Her red +hair falls down her back as far as the hips, only half held by +strings of black pearls. + +"Venus in Furs," I whisper, while she draws me to her breast and +threatens to stifle me with her kisses. Then I no longer speak and +neither do I think; everything is drowned out in an ocean of +unimagined bliss. + +"Do you still love me?" she asks, her eye softening in passionate +tenderness. + +"You ask!" I exclaimed. + +"You still remember your oath," she continued with an alluring +smile, "now that everything is prepared, everything in readiness, I +ask you once more, is it still your serious wish to become my slave?" + +"Am I not ready?" I asked in surprise. + +"You have not yet signed the papers." + +"Papers--what papers?" + +"Oh, I see, you want to give it up," she said, "well then, we will +let it go." + +"But Wanda," I said, "you know that nothing gives me greater +happiness than to serve you, to be your slave. I would give +everything for the sake of feeling myself wholly in your power, even +unto death--" + +"How beautiful you are," she whispered, "when you speak so +enthusiastically, so passionately. I am more in love with you than +ever and you want me to be dominant, stern, and cruel. I am afraid, +it will be impossible for me to be so." + +"I am not afraid," I replied smiling, "where are the papers?'" + +"So that you may know what it means to be absolutely in my power, I +have drafted a second agreement in which you declare that you have +decided to kill yourself. In that way I can even kill you, if I so +desire." + +"Give them to me." + +While I was unfolding the documents and reading them, Wanda got pen +and ink. She then sat down beside me with her arm about my neck, and +looked over my shoulder at the paper. + +The first one read: + +AGREEMENT BETWEEN MME. VON DUNAJEW AND SEVERIN VON KUSIEMSKI + +"Severin von Kusiemski ceases with the present day being the affianced +of Mme. Wanda von Dunajew, and renounces all the rights appertaining +thereunto; he on the contrary binds himself on his word of honor as a +man and nobleman, that hereafter he will be her _slave_ until such +time that she herself sets him at liberty again. + +"As the slave of Mme. von Dunajew he is to bear the name Gregor, and +he is unconditionally to comply with every one of her wishes, and to +obey every one of her commands; he is always to be submissive to his +mistress, and is to consider her every sign of favor as an +extraordinary mercy. + +"Mme. von Dunajew is entitled not only to punish her slave as she +deems best, even for the slightest inadvertence or fault, but also +is herewith given the right to torture him as the mood may seize her +or merely for the sake of whiling away the time. Should she so desire, +she may kill him whenever she wishes; in short, he is her +unrestricted property. + +"Should Mme. von Dunajew ever set her slave at liberty, Severin von +Kusiemski agrees to forget everything that he has experienced or +suffered as her slave, and promises _never under any circumstances and +in no wise to think of vengeance or retaliation_. + +"Mme. von Dunajew on her behalf agrees as his mistress to appear as +often as possible in her furs, especially when she purposes some +cruelty toward her slave." + +Appended at the bottom of the agreement was the date of the present +day. + +The second document contained only a few words. + +"Having since many years become weary of existence and its +illusions, I have of my own free will put an end to my worthless +life." + +I was seized with a deep horror when I had finished. There was still +time, I could still withdraw, but the madness of passion and the +sight of the beautiful woman that lay all relaxed against my shoulder +carried me away. + +"This one you will have to copy, Severin," said Wanda, indicating +the second document. "It has to be entirely in your own handwriting; +this, of course, isn't necessary in the case of the agreement." + +I quickly copied the few lines in which I designated myself a +suicide, and handed them to Wanda. She read them, and put them on the +table with a smile. + +"Now have you the courage to sign it?" she asked with a crafty +smile, inclining her head. + +I took the pen. + +"Let me sign first," said Wanda, "your hand is trembling, are you +afraid of the happiness that is to be yours?" + +She took the agreement and pen. While engaging in my internal struggle, +I looked upward for a moment. It occurred to me that the painting on the +ceiling, like many of those of the Italian and Dutch schools, was +utterly unhistorical, but this very fact gave it a strange mood which +had an almost uncanny effect on me. Delilah, an opulent woman with +flaming red hair, lay extended, half-disrobed, in a dark fur-cloak, upon +a red ottoman, and bent smiling over Samson who had been overthrown and +bound by the Philistines. Her smile in its mocking coquetry was full of +a diabolical cruelty; her eyes, half-closed, met Samson's, and his with +a last look of insane passion cling to hers, for already one of his +enemies is kneeling on his breast with the red-hot iron to blind him. + +"Now--" said Wanda. "Why you are all lost in thought. What is the +matter with you, everything will remain just as it was, even after +you have signed, don't you know me yet, dear heart?" + +I looked at the agreement. Her name was written there in bold +letters. I peered once more into her eyes with their potent magic, +then I took the pen and quickly signed the agreement. + +"You are trembling," said Wanda calmly, "shall I help you?" + +She gently took hold of my hand, and my name appeared at the bottom +of the second paper. Wanda looked once more at the two documents, and +then locked them in the desk which stood at the head of the ottoman. + +"Now then, give me your passport and money." + +I took out my wallet and handed it to her. She inspected it, nodded, +and put it with other things while in a sweet drunkenness I kneeled +before her leaning my head against her breast. + +Suddenly she thrusts me away with her foot, leaps up, and pulls the +bell-rope. In answer to its sound three young, slender negresses +enter; they are as if carved of ebony, and are dressed from head to +foot in red satin; each one has a rope in her hand. + +Suddenly I realize my position, and am about to rise. Wanda stands +proudly erect, her cold beautiful face with its sombre brows and +contemptous eyes is turned toward me. She stands before me as +mistress, commanding, gives a sign with her hand, and before I really +know what has happened to me the negresses have dragged me to the +ground, and have tied me hand and foot. As in the case of one about +to be executed my arms are bound behind my back, so that I can +scarcely move. + +"Give me the whip, Haydee," commands Wanda, with unearthly calm. + +The negress hands it to her mistress, kneeling. + +"And now take off my heavy furs," she continues, "they impede me." + +The negress obeyed. + +"The jacket there!" Wanda commanded. + +Haydee quickly brought her the _kazabaika_, set with ermine, which lay +on the bed, and Wanda slipped into it with two inimitably graceful +movements. + +"Now tie him to the pillar here!" + +The negresses lifted me up, and twisting a heavy rope around my +body, tied me standing against one of the massive pillars which +supported the top of the wide Italian bed. + +Then they suddenly disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed them. + +Wanda swiftly approached me. Her white satin dress flowed behind her +in a long train, like silver, like moonlight; her hair flared like +flames against the white fur of her jacket. Now she stood in front +of me with her left hand firmly planted on her hips, in her right hand +she held the whip. She uttered an abrupt laugh. + +"Now play has come to an end between us," she said with heartless +coldness. "Now we will begin in dead earnest. You fool, I laugh at you +and despise you; you who in your insane infatuation have given +yourself as a plaything to _me_, the frivolous and capricious woman. +You are no longer the man I love, but _my slave_, at my mercy even +unto life and death. + +"You shall know me! + +"First of all you shall have a taste of the whip in all seriousness, +without having done anything to deserve it, so that you may +understand what to expect, if you are awkward, disobedient, or +refractory." + +With a wild grace she rolled back her fur-lined sleeve, and struck +me across the back. + +I winced, for the whip cut like a knife into my flesh. + +"Well, how do you like that?" she exclaimed. + +I was silent. + +"Just wait, you will yet whine like a dog beneath my whip," she +threatened, and simultaneously began to strike me again. + +The blows fell quickly, in rapid succession, with terrific force +upon my back, arms, and neck; I had to grit my teeth not to scream +aloud. Now she struck me in the face, warm blood ran down, but she +laughed, and continued her blows. + +"It is only now I understand you," she exclaimed. "It really is a +joy to have some one so completely in one's power, and a man at that, +who loves you--you do love me?--No--Oh! I'll tear you to shreds yet, +and with each blow my pleasure will grow. Now, twist like a worm, +scream, whine! You will find no mercy in me!" + +Finally she seemed tired. + +She tossed the whip aside, stretched out on the ottoman, and rang. + +The negresses entered. + +"Untie him!" + +As they loosened the rope, I fell to the floor like a lump of wood. +The black women grinned, showing their white teeth. + +"Untie the rope around his feet." + +They did it, but I was unable to rise. + +"Come over here, Gregor." + +I approached the beautiful woman. Never did she seem more seductive +to me than to-day in spite of all her cruelty and contempt. + +"One step further," Wanda commanded. "Now kneel down, and kiss my +foot." + +She extended her foot beyond the hem of white satin, and I, the +supersensual fool, pressed my lips upon it. + +"Now, you won't lay eyes on me for an entire month, Gregor," she +said seriously. "I want to become a stranger to you, so you will more +easily adjust yourself to our new relationship. In the meantime you +will work in the garden, and await my orders. Now, off with you, +slave!" + + * * * * * + +A month has passed with monotonous regularity, heavy work, and a +melancholy hunger, hunger for her, who is inflicting all these +torments on me. + +I am under the gardener's orders; I help him lop the trees and prune +the hedges, transplant flowers, turn over the flower beds, sweep the +gravel paths; I share his coarse food and his hard cot; I rise and +go to bed with the chickens. Now and then I hear that our mistress +is amusing herself, surrounded by admirers. Once I heard her gay +laughter even down here in the garden. + +I seem awfully stupid to myself. Was it the result of my present +life, or was I so before? The month is drawing to a close--the day +after to-morrow. What will she do with me now, or has she forgotten +me, and left me to trim hedges and bind bouquets till my dying day? + +A written order. + +"The slave Gregor is herewith ordered to my personal service. + +Wanda Dunajew." + +With a beating heart I draw aside the damask curtain on the +following morning, and enter the bed-room of my divinity. It is still +filled with a pleasant half darkness. + +"Is it you, Gregor?" she asks, while I kneel before the fire-place, +building a fire. I tremble at the sound of the beloved voice. I +cannot see her herself; she is invisible behind the curtains of the +four-poster bed. + +"Yes, my mistress," I reply. + +"How late is it?" + +"Past nine o'clock." + +"Breakfast." + +I hasten to get it, and then kneel down with the tray beside her bed. + +"Here is breakfast, my mistress." + +Wanda draws back the curtains, and curiously enough at the first +glance when I see her among the pillows with loosened flowing hair, +she seems an absolute stranger, a beautiful woman, but the beloved +soft lines are gone. This face is hard and has an expression of +weariness and satiety. + +Or is it simply that formerly my eye did not see this? + +She fixes her green eyes upon me, more with curiosity than with +menace, perhaps even somewhat pityingly, and lazily pulls the dark +sleeping fur on which she lies over the bared shoulder. + +At this moment she is very charming, very maddening, and I feel my +blood rising to my head and heart. The tray in my hands begins to +sway. She notices it and reached out for the whip which is lying on +the toilet-table. + +"You are awkward, slave," she says furrowing her brow. + +I lower my looks to the ground, and hold the tray as steadily as +possible. She eats her breakfast, yawns, and stretches her opulent +limbs in the magnificent furs. + +She has rung. I enter. + +"Take this letter to Prince Corsini." + +I hurry into the city, and hand the letter to the Prince. He is a +handsome young man with glowing black eyes. Consumed with jealousy, +I take his answer to her. + +"What is the matter with you?" she asks with lurking spitefulness. +"You are very pale." + +"Nothing, mistress, I merely walked rather fast." + +At luncheon the prince is at her side, and I am condemned to serve +both her and him. They joke, and I am, as if non-existent, for both. +For a brief moment I see black; I was just pouring some Bordeaux into +his glass, and spilled it over the table-cloth and her gown. + +"How awkward," Wanda exclaimed and slapped my face. The prince +laughed, and she also, but I felt the blood rising to my face. + +After luncheon she drove in the Cascine. She has a little carriage +with a handsome, brown English horse, and holds the reins herself. +I sit behind and notice how coquettishly she acts, and nods with a +smile when one of the distinguished gentlemen bows to her. + +As I help her out of the carriage, she leans lightly on my arm; the +contact runs through me like an electric shock. She _is_ a wonderful +woman, and I love her more than ever. + + * * * * * + +For dinner at six she has invited a small group of men and women. I +serve, but this time I do not spill any wine over the table-cloth. + +A slap in the face is more effective than ten lectures. It makes you +understand very quickly, especially when the instruction is by the +way of a small woman's hand. + + * * * * * + +After dinner she drives to the Pergola Theater. As she descends the +stairs in her black velvet dress with its large collar of ermine and +with a diadem of white roses on her hair, she is literally stunning. +I open the carriage-door, and help her in. In front of the theater +I leap from the driver's seat, and in alighting she leaned on my arm, +which trembled under the sweet burden. I open the door of her box, +and then wait in the vestibule. The performance lasts four hours; she +receives visits from her cavaliers, the while I grit my teeth with +rage. + +It is way beyond midnight when my mistress's bell sounds for the +last time. + +"Fire!" she orders abruptly, and when the fire-place crackles, "Tea!" + +When I return with the samovar, she has already undressed, and with +the aid of the negress slipped into a white negligee. + +Haydee thereupon leaves. + +"Hand me the sleeping-furs," says Wanda, sleepily stretching her +lovely limbs. I take them from the arm-chair, and hold them while she +slowly and lazily slides into the sleeves. She then throws herself +down on the cushions of the ottoman. + +"Take off my shoes, and put on my velvet slippers." + +I kneel down and tug at the little shoe which resists my efforts. +"Hurry, hurry!" Wanda exclaims, "you are hurting me! just you wait--I +will teach you." She strikes me with the whip, but now the shoe is +off. + +"Now get out!" Still a kick--and then I can go to bed. + + * * * * * + +To-night I accompanied her to a soiree. In the entrance-hall she +ordered me to help her out of her furs; then with a proud smile, +confident of victory, she entered the brilliantly illuminated room. +I again waited with gloomy and monotonous thoughts, watching hour after +hour run by. From time to time the sounds of music reached me, when +the door remained open for a moment. Several servants tried to start +a conversation with me, but soon desisted, since I knew only a few +words of Italian. + +Finally I fell asleep, and dreamed that I murdered Wanda in a +violent attack of jealousy. I was condemned to death, and saw myself +strapped on the board; the knife fell, I felt it on my neck, but I +was still alive-- + +Then the executioner slapped my face. + +No, it wasn't the executioner; it was Wanda who stood wrathfully +before me demanding her furs. I am at her side in a moment, and help +her on with it. + +There is a deep joy in wrapping a beautiful woman into her furs, and +in seeing and feeling how her neck and magnificent limbs nestle in +the precious soft furs, and to lift the flowing hair over the collar. +When she throws it off a soft warmth and a faint fragrance of her +body still clings to the ends of the hairs of sable. It is enough to +drive one mad. + + * * * * * + +Finally a day came when there were neither guests, nor theater, nor +other company. I breathed a sigh of relief. Wanda sat in the gallery, +reading, and apparently had no orders for me. At dusk when the +silvery evening mists fell she withdrew. I served her at dinner, she +ate by herself, but had not a look, not a syllable for me, not even +a slap in the face. + +I actually desire a slap from her hand. Tears fill my eyes, and I +feel that she has humiliated me so deeply, that she doesn't even find +it worth while to torture or maltreat me any further. + +Before she goes to bed, her bell calls me. + +"You will sleep here to-night, I had horrible dreams last night, and +am afraid of being alone. Take one of the cushions from the ottoman, +and lie down on the bearskin at my feet." + +Then Wanda put out the lights. The only illumination in the room was +from a small lamp suspended from the ceiling. She herself got into +bed. "Don't stir, so as not to wake me." + +I did as she had commanded, but could not fall asleep for a long +time. I saw the beautiful woman, beautiful as a goddess, lying on her +back on the dark sleeping-furs; her arms beneath her neck, with a +flood of red hair over them. I heard her magnificent breast rise in +deep regular breathing, and whenever she moved ever so slightly. I +woke up and listened to see whether she needed me. + +But she did not require me. + +No task was required of me; I meant no more to her than a night-lamp, or +a revolver which one places under one's pillow. + + * * * * * + +Am I mad or is she? Does all this arise out of an inventive, wanton +woman's brain with the intention of surpassing my supersensual +fantasies, or is this woman really one of those Neronian characters +who take a diabolical pleasure in treading underfoot, like a worm, +human beings, who have thoughts and feelings and a will like theirs? + +What have I experienced? + +When I knelt with the coffee-tray beside her bed, Wanda suddenly +placed her hand on my shoulder and her eyes plunged deep into mine. + +"What beautiful eyes you have," she said softly, "and especially now +since you suffer. Are you very unhappy?" + +I bowed my head, and kept silent. + +"Severin, do you still love me," she suddenly exclaimed +passionately, "can you still love me?" + +She drew me close with such vehemence that the coffee-tray upset, +the can and cups fell to the floor, and the coffee ran over the +carpet. + +"Wanda--my Wanda," I cried out and held her passionately against me; +I covered her mouth, face, and breast with kisses. + +"It is my unhappiness that I love you more and more madly the worse +you treat me, the more frequently you betray me. Oh, I shall die of +pain and love and jealousy." + +"But I haven't betrayed you, as yet, Severin," replied Wanda smiling. + +"Not? Wanda! Don't jest so mercilessly with me," I cried. "Haven't +I myself taken the letter to the Prince--" + +"Of course, it was an invitation for luncheon." + +"You have, since we have been in Florence--" + +"I have been absolutely faithful to you," replied Wanda, "I swear it +by all that is holy to me. All that I have done was merely to fulfill +your dream and it was done for your sake. + +"However, I shall take a lover, otherwise things will be only half +accomplished, and in the end you will yet reproach me with not having +treated you cruelly enough, my dear beautiful slave! But to-day you +shall be Severin again, the only one I love. I haven't given away +your clothes. They are here in the chest. Go and dress as you used +to in the little Carpathian health-resort when our love was so intimate. +Forget everything that has happened since; oh, you will forget it +easily in my arms; I shall kiss away all your sorrows." + +She began to treat me tenderly like a child, to kiss me and caress +me. Finally she said with a gracious smile, "Go now and dress, I too +will dress. Shall I put on my fur-jacket? Oh yes, I know, now run +along!" + +When I returned she was standing in the center of the room in her +white satin dress, and the red _kazabaika_ edged with ermine; her hair +was white with powder and over her forehead she wore a small diamond +diadem. For a moment she reminded me in an uncanny way of Catherine +the Second, but she did not give me much time for reminiscences. She +drew me down on the ottoman beside her and we enjoyed two blissful +hours. She was no longer the stern capricious mistress, she was +entirely a fine lady, a tender sweetheart. She showed me photographs +and books which had just appeared, and talked about them with so much +intelligence, clarity, and good taste, that I more than once carried +her hand to my lips, enraptured. She then had me recite several of +Lermontov's poems, and when I was all afire with enthusiasm, she +placed her small hand gently on mine. Her expression was soft, and her +eyes were filled with tender pleasure. + +"Are you happy?" + +"Not yet." + +She then leaned back on the cushions, and slowly opened her +_kazabaika_. + +But I quickly covered the half-bared breast again with the ermine. +"You are driving me mad." I stammered. + +"Come!" + +I was already lying in her arms, and like a serpent she was kissing +me with her tongue, when again she whispered, "Are you happy?" + +"Infinitely!" I exclaimed. + +She laughed aloud. It was an evil, shrill laugh which made cold +shivers run down by back. + +"You used to dream of being the slave, the plaything of a beautiful +woman, and now you imagine you are a free human being, a man, my +lover-you fool! A sign from me, and you are a slave again. Down on +your knees!" + +I sank down from the ottoman to her feet, but my eye still clung +doubtingly on hers. + +"You can't believe it," she said, looking at me with her arms folded +across her breast. "I am bored, and you will just do to while away +a couple of hours of time. Don't look at me that way--" + +She kicked me with her foot. + +"You are just what I want, a human being, a thing, an animal--" + +She rang. The three negresses entered. + +"Tie his hands behind his back." + +I remained kneeling and unresistingly let them do this. They led me +into the garden, down to the little vineyard, which forms the +southern boundary. Corn had been planted between the espaliers, and +here and there a few dead stalks still stood. To one side was a +plough. + +The negresses tied me to a post, and amused themselves sticking me +with their golden hair-needles. But this did not last long, before +Wanda appeared with her ermine cap on her head, and with her hands +in the pockets of her jacket. She had me untied, and then my hands +were fastened together on my back. She finally had a yoke put around +my neck, and harnessed me to the plough. + +Then her black demons drove me out into the field. One of them held +the plough, the other one led me by a line, the third applied the +whip, and Venus in Furs stood to one side and looked on. + + * * * * * + +When I was serving dinner on the following day Wanda said: "Bring +another cover, I want you to dine with me to-day," and when I was +about to sit down opposite her, she added, "No, over here, close by +my side." + +She is in the best of humors, gives me soup with her spoon, feeds me +with her fork, and places her head on the table like a playful kitten +and flirts with me. I have the misfortune of looking at Haydee, who +serves in my place, perhaps a little longer than is necessary. It is +only now that I noticed her noble, almost European cast of +countenance and her magnificent statuesque bust, which is as if hewn +out of black marble. The black devil observes that she pleases me, +and, grinning, shows her teeth. She has hardly left the room, before +Wanda leaps up in a rage. + +"What, you dare to look at another woman besides me! Perhaps you +like her even better than you do me, she is even more demonic!" + +I am frightened; I have never seen her like this before; she is +suddenly pale even to the lips and her whole body trembles. Venus in +Furs is jealous of her slave. She snatches the whip from its hook and +strikes me in the face; then she calls her black servants, who bind +me, and carry me down into the cellar, where they throw me into a +dark, dank, subterranean compartment, a veritable prison-cell. + +Then the lock of the door clicks, the bolts are drawn, a key sings +in the lock. I am a prisoner, buried. + +I have been lying here for I don't know how long, bound like a calf +about to be hauled to the slaughter, on a bundle of damp straw, +without any light, without food, without drink, without sleep. It +would be like her to let me starve to death, if I don't freeze to +death before then. I am shaking with cold. Or is it fever? I believe +I am beginning to hate this woman. + + * * * * * + +A red streak, like blood, floods across the floor; it is a light +falling through the door which is now thrust open. + +Wanda appears on the threshold, wrapped in her sables, holding a +lighted torch. + +"Are you still alive?" she asks. + +"Are you coming to kill me?" I reply with a low, hoarse voice. + +With two rapid strides Wanda reaches my side, she kneels down beside +me, and places my head in her lap. "Are you ill? Your eyes glow so, +do you love me? I want you to love me." + +She draws forth a short dagger. I start with fright when its blade +gleams in front of my eyes. I actually believe that she is about to +kill me. She laughs, and cuts the ropes that bind me. + + * * * * * + +Every evening after dinner she now has me called. I have to read to +her, and she discusses with me all sorts of interesting problems and +subjects. She seems entirely transformed; it is as if she were +ashamed of the savagery which she betrayed to me and of the cruelty +with which she treated me. A touching gentleness transfigures her +entire being, and when at the good-night she gives me her hand, a +superhuman power of goodness and love lies in her eyes, of the kind +which calls forth tears in us and causes us to forget all the +miseries of existence and all the terrors of death. + + * * * * * + +I am reading _Manon l'Escault_ to her. She feels the association, she +doesn't say a word, but she smiles from time to time, and finally she +shuts up the little book. + +"Don't you want to go on reading?" + +"Not to-day. We will ourselves act _Manon l'Escault_ to-day. I have a +rendezvous in the Cascine, and you, my dear Chevalier, will accompany +me; I know, you will do it, won't you?" + +"You command it." + +"I do not command it, I beg it of you," she says with irresistible +charm. She then rises, puts her hands on my shoulders, and looks at +me. + +"Your eyes!" she exclaims. "I love you, Severin, you have no idea +how I love you!" + +"Yes, I have!" I replied bitterly, "so much so that you have +arranged for a rendezvous with some one else." + +"I do this only to allure you the more," she replied vivaciously. "I +must have admirers, so as not to lose you. I don't ever want to lose +you, never, do you hear, for I love only you, you alone." + +She clung passionately to my lips. + +"Oh, if I only could, as I would, give you all of my soul in a kiss-- +thus--but now come." + +She slipped into a simple black velvet coat, and put a dark _bashlyk_ +[Footnote: A kind of Russian cap.] on her head. Then she rapidly went +through the gallery, and entered the carriage. + +"Gregor will drive," she called out to the coachman who withdrew in +surprise. + +I ascended the driver's seat, and angrily whipped up the horses. + +In the Cascine where the main roadway turns into a leafy path, Wanda +got out. It was night, only occasional stars shone through the gray +clouds that fled across the sky. By the bank of the Arno stood a man +in a dark cloak, with a brigand's hat, and looked at the yellow +waves. Wanda rapidly walked through the shrubbery, and tapped him on +the shoulder. I saw him turn and seize her hand, and then they +disappeared behind the green wall. + +An hour full of torments. Finally there was a rustling in the bushes +to one side, and they returned. + +The man accompanied her to the carriage. The light of the lamp fell +full and glaringly upon an infinitely young, soft and dreamy face +which I had never before seen, and played in his long, blond curls. + +She held out her hand which he kissed with deep respect, then she +signaled to me, and immediately the carriage flew along the leafy +wall which follows the river like a long green screen. + + * * * * * + +The bell at the garden-gate rings. It is a familiar face. The man +from the Cascine. + +"Whom shall I announce?" I ask him in French. He timidly shakes his +head. + +"Do you, perhaps, understand some German?" he asks shyly. + +"Yes. Your name, please." + +"Oh! I haven't any yet," he replies, embarrassed--"Tell your +mistress the German painter from the Cascine is here and would like-- +but there she is herself." + +Wanda had stepped out on the balcony, and nodded toward the stranger. + +"Gregor, show the gentleman in!" she called to me. + +I showed the painter the stairs. + +"Thanks, I'll find her now, thanks, thanks very much." He ran up the +steps. I remained standing below, and looked with deep pity on the +poor German. + +Venus in Furs has caught his soul in the red snares of hair. He will +paint her, and go mad. + + * * * * * + +It is a sunny winter's day. Something that looks like gold trembles +on the leaves of the clusters of trees down below in the green level +of the meadow. The camelias at the foot of the gallery are glorious +in their abundant buds. Wanda is sitting in the loggia; she is +drawing. The German painter stands opposite her with his hands folded +as in adoration, and looks at her. No, he rather looks at her face, +and is entirely absorbed in it, enraptured. + +But she does not see him, neither does she see me, who with the +spade in my hand am turning over the flower-bed, solely that I may +see her and feel her nearness, which produces an effect on me like +poetry, like music. + + * * * * * + +The painter has gone. It is a hazardous thing to do, but I risk it. +I go up to the gallery, quite close, and ask Wanda "Do you love the +painter, mistress?" + +She looks at me without getting angry, shakes her head, and finally +even smiles. + +"I feel sorry for him," she replies, "but I do not love him. I love no +one. _I used to love you, as ardently, as passionately, as deeply as +it was possible for me to love,_ but now I don't love even you any +more; my heart is a void, dead, and this makes me sad." + +"Wanda!" I exclaimed, deeply moved. + +"Soon, you too will no longer love me," she continued, "tell me when +you have reached that point, and I will give back to you your +freedom." + +"Then I shall remain your slave, all my life long, for I adore you +and shall always adore you," I cried, seized by that fanaticism of +love which has repeatedly been so fatal to me. + +Wanda looked at me with a curious pleasure. "Consider well what you +do," she said. "I have loved you infinitely and have been despotic +towards you so that I might fulfil your dream. Something of my old +feeling, a sort of real sympathy for you, still trembles in my +breast. When that too has gone who knows whether then I shall give +you your liberty; whether I shall not then become really cruel, +merciless, even brutal toward; whether I shall not take a diabolical +pleasure in tormenting and putting on the rack the man who worships +me idolatrously, the while I remain indifferent or love someone else; +perhaps, I shall enjoy seeing him die of his love for me. Consider +this well." + +"I have long since considered all that," I replied as in a glow of +fever. "I cannot exist, cannot live without you; I shall die if you +set me at liberty; let me remain your slave, kill me, but do not +drive me away." + +"Very well then, be my slave," she replied, "but don't forget that +I no longer love you, and your love doesn't mean any more to me than +a dog's, and dogs are kicked." + + * * * * * + +To-day I visited the Venus of Medici. + +It was still early, and the little octagonal room in the Tribuna was +filled with half-lights like a sanctuary; I stood with folded hands +in deep adoration before the silent image of the divinity. + +But I did not stand for long. + +Not a human soul was in the gallery, not even an Englishman, and I +fell down on my knees. I looked up at the lovely slender body, the +budding breasts, the virginal and yet voluptuous face, the fragrant +curls which seemed to conceal tiny horns on each side of the forehead. + + * * * * * + +My mistress's bell. + +It is noonday. She, however, is still abed with her arms intertwined +behind her neck. + +"I want to bathe," she says, "and you will attend me. Lock the door!" + +I obey. + +"Now go downstairs and make sure the door below is also locked." + +I descended the winding stairs that lead from her bedroom to the +bath; my feet gave way beneath me, and I had to support myself +against the iron banister. After having ascertained that the door +leading to the Loggia and the garden was locked, I returned. Wanda +was now sitting on the bed with loosened hair, wrapped in her green +velvet furs. When she made a rapid movement, I noticed that the furs +were her only covering. It made me start terribly, I don't know why? +I was like one condemned to death, who knows he is on the way to the +scaffold, and yet begins to tremble when he sees it. + +"Come, Gregor, take me on your arms." + +"You mean, mistress?" + +"You are to carry me, don't you understand?" + +I lifted her up, so that she rested in my arms, while she twined +hers around my neck. Slowly, step by step, I went down the stairs +with her and her hair beat from time to time against my cheek and her +foot sought support against my knee. I trembled under the beautiful +burden I was carrying, and every moment it seemed as if I had to +break down beneath it. + +The bath consisted of a wide, high rotunda, which received a soft +quiet light from a red glass cupola above. Two palms extended their +broad leaves like a roof over a couch of velvet cushions. From here +steps covered with Turkish rugs led to the white marble basin which +occupied the center. + +"There is a green ribbon on my toilet-table upstairs," said Wanda, +as I let her down on the couch, "go get it, and also bring the whip." + +I flew upstairs and back again, and kneeling put both in my mistress's +hands. She then had me twist her heavy electric hair into a large knot +which I fastened with the green ribbon. Then I prepared the bath. I did +this very awkwardly because my hands and feet refused to obey me. Again +and again I had to look at the beautiful woman lying on the red velvet +cushions, and from time to time her wonderful body gleamed here and +there beneath the furs. Some magnetic power stronger than my will +compelled me to look. I felt that all sensuality and lustfulness lies in +that which is half-concealed or intentionally disclosed; and the truth +of this I recognized even more acutely, when the basin at last was full, +and Wanda threw off the fur-cloak with a single gesture, and stood +before me like the goddess in the Tribuna. + +At that moment she seemed as sacred and chaste to me in her unveiled +beauty, as did the divinity of long ago. I sank down on my knees +before her, and devoutly pressed my lips on her foot. + +My soul which had been storm-tossed only a little while earlier, +suddenly was perfectly calm, and I now felt no element of cruelty in +Wanda. + +She slowly descended the stairs, and I could watch her with a +calmness in which not a single atom of torment or desire was +intermingled. I could see her plunge into and rise out of the +crystalline water, and the wavelets which she herself raised played +about her like tender lovers. + +Our nihilistic aesthetician is right when he says: a real apple is +more beautiful than a painted one, and a living woman is more +beautiful than a Venus of stone. + +And when she left the bath, and the silvery drops and the roseate +light rippled down her body, I was seized with silent rapture. I +wrapped the linen sheets about her, drying her glorious body. The +calm bliss remained with me, even now when one foot upon me as upon +a footstool, she rested on the cushions in her large velvet cloak. +The lithe sables nestled desirously against her cold marble-like body. +Her left arm on which she supported herself lay like a sleeping swan +in the dark fur of the sleeve, while her left hand played carelessly +with the whip. + +By chance my look fell on the massive mirror on the wall opposite, +and I cried out, for I saw the two of us in its golden frame as in +a picture. The picture was so marvellously beautiful, so strange, so +imaginative, that I was filled with deep sorrow at the thought that +its lines and colors would have to dissolve like mist. + +"What is the matter?" asked Wanda. + +I pointed to the mirror. + +"Ah, that is really beautiful," she exclaimed, "too bad one can't +capture the moment and make it permanent." + +"And why not?" I asked. "Would not any artist, even the most famous, +be proud if you gave him leave to paint you and make you immortal by +means of his brush. + +"The very thought that this extra-ordinary beauty is to be lost to +the world," I continued still watching her enthusiastically, "is +horrible--all this glorious facial expression, this mysterious eye +with its green fires, this demonic hair, this magnificence of body. +The idea fills me with a horror of death, of annihilation. But the +hand of an artist shall snatch you from this. You shall not like the +rest of us disappear absolutely and forever, without leaving a trace +of your having been. Your picture must live, even when you yourself +have long fallen to dust; your beauty must triumph beyond death!" + +Wanda smiled. + +"Too bad, that present-day Italy hasn't a Titian or Raphael," she +said, "but, perhaps, love will make amends for genius, who knows; our +little German might do?" She pondered. + +"Yes, he shall paint you, and I will see to it that the god of love +mixes his colors." + + * * * * * + +The young painter has established his studio in her villa; he is +completely in her net. He has just begun a Madonna, a Madonna with +red hair and green eyes! Only the idealism of a German would attempt +to use this thorough-bred woman as a model for a picture of +virginity. The poor fellow really is an almost bigger donkey than I +am. Our misfortune is that our Titania has discovered our ass's ears +too soon. + + * * * * * + +Now she laughs derisively at us, and how she laughs! I hear her +insolent melodious laughter in his studio, under the open window of +which I stand, jealously listening. + + * * * * * + +"Are you mad, me--ah, it is unbelievable, me as the Mother of God!" +she exclaimed and laughed again. "Wait a moment, I will show you +another picture of myself, one that I myself have painted, and you +shall copy it." + +Her head appeared in the window, luminous like a flame under the +sunlight. + +"Gregor!" + +I hurried up the stairs, through the gallery, into the studio. + +"Lead him to the bath," Wanda commanded, while she herself hurried +away. + +A few moments passed and Wanda arrived; dressed in nothing but the +sable fur, with the whip in her hand; she descended the stairs and +stretched out on the velvet cushions as on the former occasion. I lay +at her feet and she placed one of her feet upon me; her right hand +played with the whip. "Look at me," she said, "with your deep, +fanatical look, that's it." + +The painter had turned terribly pale. He devoured the scene with his +beautiful dreamy blue eyes; his lips opened, but he remained dumb. + +"Well, how do you like the picture?" + +"Yes, that is how I want to paint you," said the German, but it was +really not a spoken language; it was the eloquent moaning, the +weeping of a sick soul, a soul sick unto death. + + * * * * * + +The charcoal outline of the painting is done; the heads and flesh +parts are painted in. Her diabolical face is already becoming visible +under a few bold strokes, life flashes in her green eyes. + +Wanda stands in front of the canvas with her arms crossed over her +breast. + +"This picture, like many of those of the Venetian school, is +simultaneously to represent a portrait and to tell a story," +explained the painter, who again had become pale as death. + +"And what will you call it?" she asked, "but what is the matter with +you, are you ill?" + +"I am afraid--" he answered with a consuming look fixed on the +beautiful woman in furs, "but let us talk of the picture." + +"Yes, let us talk about the picture." + +"I imagine the goddess of love as having descended from Mount Olympus +for the sake of some mortal man. And always cold in this modern world +of ours, she seeks to keep her sublime body warm in a large heavy fur +and her feet in the lap of her lover. I imagine the favorite of a +beautiful despot, who whips her slave, when she is tired of kissing +him, and the more she treads him underfoot, the more insanely he loves +her. And so I shall call the picture: _Venus in Furs_." + + * * * * * + +The painter paints slowly, but his passion grows more and more +rapidly. I am afraid he will end up by committing suicide. She plays +with him and propounds riddles to him which he cannot solve, and he +feels his blood congealing in the process, but it amuses her. + +During the sitting she nibbles at candies, and rolls the paper-wrappers +into little pellets with which she bombards him. + +"I am glad you are in such good humor," said the painter, "but your face +has lost the expression which I need for my picture." + +"The expression which you need for your picture," she replied, +smiling. "Wait a moment." + +She rose, and dealt me a blow with the whip. The painter looked at +her with stupefaction, and a child-like surprise showed on his face, +mingled with disgust and admiration. + +While whipping me, Wanda's face acquired more and more of the cruel, +contemptuous character, which so haunts and intoxicates me. + +"Is this the expression you need for your picture?" she exclaimed. +The painter lowered his look in confusion before the cold ray of her +eye. + +"It is the expression--" he stammered, "but I can't paint now--" + +"What?" said Wanda, scornfully, "perhaps I can help you?" + +"Yes--" cried the German, as if taken with madness, "whip me too." + +"Oh! With pleasure," she replied, shrugging her shoulders, "but if +I am to whip you I want to do it in sober earnest." + +"Whip me to death," cried the painter. + +"Will you let me tie you?" she asked, smiling. + +"Yes--" he moaned-- + +Wanda left the room for a moment, and returned with ropes. + +"Well--are you still brave enough to put yourself into the power of +Venus in Furs, the beautiful despot, for better or worse?" she began +ironically. + +"Yes, tie me," the painter replied dully. Wanda tied his hands on +his back and drew a rope through his arms and a second one around his +body, and fettered him to the cross-bars of the window. Then she +rolled back the fur, seized the whip, and stepped in front of him. + +The scene had a grim attraction for me, which I cannot describe. I +felt my heart beat, when, with a smile, she drew back her arm for the +first blow, and the whip hissed through the air. He winced slightly +under the blow. Then she let blow after blow rain upon him, with her +mouth half-opened and her teeth flashing between her red lips, until +he finally seemed to ask for mercy with his piteous, blue eyes. It +was indescribable. + + * * * * * + +She is sitting for him now, alone. He is working on her head. + +She has posted me in the adjoining room behind a heavy curtain, +where I can't be seen, but can see everything. + +What does she intend now? + +Is she afraid of him? She has driven him insane enough to be sure, +or is she hatching a new torment for me? My knees tremble. + +They are talking. He has lowered his voice so that I cannot +understand a word, and she replies in the same way. What is the +meaning of this? Is there an understanding between them? + +I suffer frightful torments; my heart seems about to burst. + +He kneels down before her, embraces her, and presses his head +against her breast, and she--in her heartlessness--laughs--and now +I hear her saying aloud: + +"Ah! You need another application of the whip." + +"Woman! Goddess! Are you without a heart--can't you love," exclaimed +the German, "don't you even know, what it means to love, to be +consumed with desire and passion, can't you even imagine what I +suffer? Have you no pity for me?" + +"No!" she replied proudly and mockingly, "but I have the whip." + +She drew it quickly from the pocket of her fur-coat, and struck him +in the face with the handle. He rose, and drew back a couple of paces. + +"Now, are you ready to paint again?" she asked indifferently. He did +not reply, but again went to the easel and took up his brush and +palette. + +The painting is marvellously successful. It is a portrait which as +far as the likeness goes couldn't be better, and at the same time it +seems to have an ideal quality. The colors glow, are supernatural; +almost diabolical, I would call them. + +The painter has put all his sufferings, his adoration, and all his +execration into the picture. + + * * * * * + +Now he is painting me; we are alone together for several hours every +day. To-day he suddenly turned to me with his vibrant voice and said: + +"You love this woman?" + +"Yes." + +"I also love her." His eyes were bathed in tears. He remained silent +for a while, and continued painting. + +"We have a mountain at home in Germany within which she dwells," he +murmured to himself. "She is a demon." + + * * * * * + +The picture is finished. She insisted on paying him for it, +munificently, in the manner of queens. + +"Oh, you have already paid me," he said, with a tormented smile, +refusing her offer. + +Before he left, he secretly opened his portfolio, and let me look +inside. I was startled. Her head looked at me as if out of a mirror +and seemed actually to be alive. + +"I shall take it along," he said, "it is mine; she can't take it +away from me. I have earned it with my heart's blood." + + * * * * * + +"I am really rather sorry for the poor painter," she said to me to-day, +"it is absurd to be as virtuous as I am. Don't you think so too?" + +I did not dare to reply to her. + +"Oh, I forgot that I am talking with a slave; I need some fresh air, +I want to be diverted, I want to forget. + +"The carriage, quick!" + +Her new dress is extravagant: Russian half-boots of violet-blue +velvet trimmed with ermine, and a skirt of the same material, +decorated with narrow stripes and rosettes of furs. Above it is an +appropriate, close-fitting jacket, also richly trimmed and lined with +ermine. The headdress is a tall cap of ermine of the style of +Catherine the Second, with a small aigrette, held in place by a +diamond-agraffe; her red hair falls loose down her back. She ascends +on the driver's seat, and holds the reins herself; I take my seat +behind. How she lashes on the horses! The carriage flies along like +mad. + +Apparently it is her intention to attract attention to-day, to make +conquests, and she succeeds completely. She is the lioness of the +Cascine. People nod to her from carriages; on the footpath people +gather in groups to discuss her. She pays no attention to anyone, +except now and then acknowledging the greetings of elderly gentlemen +with a slight nod. + +Suddenly a young man on a lithe black horse dashes up at full speed. +As soon as he sees Wanda, he stops his horse and makes it walk. When +he is quite close, he stops entirely and lets her pass. And she too +sees him--the lioness, the lion. Their eyes meet. She madly drives +past him, but she cannot tear herself free from the magic power of +his look, and she turns her head after him. + +My heart stops when I see the half-surprised, half-enraptured look +with which she devours him, but he is worthy of it. + +For he is, indeed, a magnificent specimen of man, No, rather, he is +a man whose like I have never yet seen among the living. He is in the +Belvedere, graven in marble, with the same slender, yet steely +musculature, with the same face and the same waving curls. What makes +him particularly beautiful is that he is beardless. If his hips were +less narrow, one might take him for a woman in disguise. The curious +expression about the mouth, the lion's lip which slightly discloses +the teeth beneath, lends a flashing tinge of cruelty to the beautiful +face-- + +Apollo flaying Marsyas. + +He wears high black boots, closely fitting breeches of white +leather, short fur coat of black cloth, of the kind worn by Italian +cavalry officers, trimmed with astrakhan and many rich loops; on his +black locks is a red fez. + +I now understand the masculine Eros, and I marvel at Socrates for +having remained virtuous in view of an Alcibiades like this. + + * * * * * + +I have never seen my lioness so excited. Her cheeks flamed when she +left from the carriage at her villa. She hurried upstairs, and with +an imperious gesture ordered me to follow. + +Walking up and down her room with long strides, she began to talk so +rapidly, that I was frightened. + +"You are to find out who the man in the Cascine was, immediately-- + +"Oh, what a man! Did you see him? What do you think of him? Tell me." + +"The man is beautiful," I replied dully. + +"He is so beautiful," she paused, supporting herself on the arm of +a chair, "that he has taken my breath away." + +"I can understand the impression he has made on you," I replied, my +imagination carrying me away in a mad whirl. "I am quite lost in +admiration myself, and I can imagine--" + +"You may imagine," she laughed aloud, "that this man is my lover, +and that he will apply the lash to you, and that you will enjoy being +punished by him. + +"But now go, go." + + * * * * * + +Before evening fell, I had the desired information. + +Wanda was still fully dressed when I returned. She reclined on the +ottoman, her face buried in her hands, her hair in a wild tangle, +like the red mane of a lioness. + +"What is his name?" she asked, uncanny calm. + +"Alexis Papadopolis." + +"A Greek, then," + +I nodded. + +"He is very young?" + +"Scarcely older than you. They say he was educated in Paris, and +that he is an atheist. He fought against the Turks in Candia, and is +said to have distinguished himself there no less by his race-hatred +and cruelty, than by his bravery." + +"All in all, then, a man," she cried with sparkling eyes. + +"At present he is living in Florence," I continued, "he is said to +be tremendously rich--" + +"I didn't ask you about that," she interrupted quickly and sharply. +"The man is dangerous. Aren't you afraid of him? I am afraid of him. +Has he a wife?" + +"No." + +"A mistress?" + +"No." + +"What theaters does he attend?" + +"To-night he will be at the Nicolini Theater, where Virginia Marini +and Salvini are acting; they are the greatest living artists in +Italy, perhaps in Europe. + +"See that you get a box--and be quick about it!" she commanded. + +"But, mistress--" + +"Do you want a taste of the whip?" + + * * * * * + +"You can wait down in the lobby," she said when I had placed the +opera-glasses and the programme on the edge of her box and adjusted +the footstool. + +I am standing there and had to lean against the wall for support so +as not to fall down with envy and rage--no, rage isn't the right +word; it was a mortal fear. + +I saw her in her box dressed in blue moire, with a huge ermine cloak +about her bare shoulders; he sat opposite. I saw them devour each +other with their eyes. For both of them the stage, Goldoni's _Pamela,_ +Salvini, Marini, the public, even the entire world, were non-existant +to-night. And I--what was I at that moment?-- + + * * * * * + +To-day she is attending the ball at the Greek ambassador's. Does she +know, that she will meet him there? + +At any rate she dressed, as if she did. A heavy sea-green silk dress +plastically encloses her divine form, leaving the bust and arms bare. In +her hair, which is done into a single flaming knot, a white water-lily +blossoms; from it the leaves of reeds interwoven with a few loose +strands fall down toward her neck. There no longer is any trace of +agitation or trembling feverishness in her being. She is calm, so calm, +that I feel my blood congealing and my heart growing cold under her +glance. Slowly, with a weary, indolent majesty, she ascends the marble +staircase, lets her precious wrap slide off, and listlessly enters the +hall, where the smoke of a hundred candles has formed a silvery mist. + +For a few moments my eyes follow her in a daze, then I pick up her +furs, which without my being aware, had slipped from my hands. They +are still warm from her shoulders. + +I kiss the spot, and my eyes fill with tears. + + * * * * * + +He has arrived. + +In his black velvet coat extravagantly trimmed with sable, he is a +beautiful, haughty despot who plays with the lives and souls of men. +He stands in the ante-room, looking around proudly, and his eyes rest +on me for an uncomfortably long time. + +Under his icy glance I am again seized by a mortal fear. I have a +presentiment that this man can enchain her, captivate her, subjugate +her, and I feel inferior in contrast with his savage masculinity; I +am filled with envy, with jealousy. + +I feel that I am a queer weakly creature of brains, merely! And what +is most humiliating, I want to hate him, but I can't. Why is that +among all the host of servants he has chosen me. + +With an inimitably aristocratic nod of the head he calls me over to +him, and I--I obey his call--against my own will. + +"Take my furs," he quickly commands. + +My entire body trembles with resentment, but I obey, abjectly like +a slave. + + * * * * * + +All night long I waited in the ante-room, raving as in a fever. +Strange images hovered past my inner eye. I saw their meeting--their +long exchange of looks. I saw her float through the hall in his arms, +drunken, lying with half-closed lids against his breast. I saw him +in the holy of holies of love, lying on the ottoman, not as slave, +but as master, and she at his feet. On my knees I served them, the +tea-tray faltering in my hands, and I saw him reach for the whip. +But now the servants are talking about him. + +He is a man who is like a woman; he knows that he is beautiful, and +he acts accordingly. He changes his clothes four or five times a day, +like a vain courtesan. + +In Paris he appeared first in woman's dress, and the men assailed +him with love-letters. An Italian singer, famous equally for his art +and his passionate intensity, even invaded his home, and lying on his +knees before him threatened to commit suicide if he wouldn't be his. + +"I am sorry," he replied, smiling, "I should like to do you the +favor, but you will have to carry out your threat, for I am a man." + + * * * * * + +The drawing-room has already thinned out to a marked degree, but she +apparently has no thought of leaving. + +Morning is already peering through the blinds. + +At last I hear the rustling of her heavy gown which flows along +behind her like green waves. She advances step by step, engaged in +conversation with him. + +I hardly exist for her any longer; she doesn't even trouble to give +me an order. + +"The cloak for madame," he commands. He, of course, doesn't think of +looking after her himself. + +While I put her furs about her, he stands to one side with his arms +crossed. While I am on my knees putting on her fur over-shoes, she +lightly supports herself with her hand on his shoulder. She asks: + +"And what about the lioness?" + +"When the lion whom she has chosen and with whom she lives is +attacked by another," the Greek went on with his narrative, "the +lioness quietly lies down and watches the battle. Even if her mate +is worsted she does not go to his aid. She looks on indifferently as +he bleeds to death under his opponent's claws, and follows the victor, +the stronger--that is the female's nature." + +At this moment my lioness looked quickly and curiously at me. + +It made me shudder, though I didn't know why--and the red dawn +immerses me and her and him in blood. + + * * * * * + +She did not go to bed, but merely threw off her ball-dress and undid +her hair; then she ordered me to build a fire, and she sat by the +fire-place, and stared into the flames. + +"Do you need me any longer, mistress?" I asked, my voice failed me +at the last word. + +Wanda shook her head. + +I left the room, passed through the gallery, and sat down on one of +the steps, leading from there down into the garden. A gentle north +wind brought a fresh, damp coolness from the Arno, the green hills +extended into the distance in a rosy mist, a golden haze hovered over +the city, over the round cupola of the Duomo. + +A few stars still tremble in the pale-blue sky. + +I tore open my coat, and pressed my burning forehead against the +marble. Everything that had happened so far seemed to me a mere +child's play; but now things were beginning to be serious, terribly +serious. + +I anticipated a catastrophe, I visualized it, I could lay hold of it +with my hands, but I lacked the courage to meet it. My strength was +broken. And if I am honest with myself, neither the pains and +sufferings that threatened me, not the humiliations that impended, +were the thing that frightened me. + +I merely felt a fear, the fear of losing her whom I loved with a +sort of fanatical devotion; but it was so overwhelming, so crushing +that I suddenly began to sob like a child. + + * * * * * + +During the day she remained locked in her room, and had the negress +attend her. When the evening star rose glowing in the blue sky, I saw +her pass through the garden, and, carefully following her at a +distance, watched her enter the shrine of Venus. I stealthily +followed and peered through the chink in the door. + +She stood before the divine image of the goddess, her hands folded +as in prayer, and the sacred light of the star of love casts its blue +rays over her. + + * * * * * + +On my couch at night the fear of losing her and despair took such +powerful hold of me that they made a hero and a libertine of me. I +lighted the little red oil-lamp which hung in the corridor beneath +a saint's image, and entered her bedroom, covering the light with one +hand. + +The lioness had been hunted and driven until she was exhausted. She +had fallen asleep among her pillows, lying on her back, her hands +clenched, breathing heavily. A dream seemed to oppress her. I slowly +withdrew my hand, and let the red light fall full on her wonderful +face. + +But she did not awaken. + +I gently set the lamp on the floor, sank down beside Wanda's bed, +and rested my head on her soft, glowing arm. + +She moved slightly, but even now did not awaken. I do not know how +long I lay thus in the middle of the night, turned as into a stone +by horrible torments. + +Finally a severe trembling seized me, and I was able to cry. My +tears flowed over her arm. She quivered several times and finally sat +up; she brushed her hand across her eyes, and looked at me. + +"Severin," she exclaimed, more frightened than angry. + +I was unable to reply. + +"Severin," she continued softly, "what is the matter? Are you ill?" + +Her voice sounded so sympathetic, so kind, so full of love, that it +clutched my breast like red-hot tongs and I began to sob aloud. + +"Severin," she began anew. "My poor unhappy friend." Her hand gently +stroked my hair. "I am sorry, very sorry for you; but I can't help +you; with the best intention in the world I know of nothing that +would cure you." + +"Oh, Wanda, must it be?" I moaned in my agony. + +"What, Severin? What are you talking about?" + +"Don't you love me any more?" I continued. "Haven't you even a +little bit of pity for me? Has the beautiful stranger taken complete +possession of you?" + +"I cannot lie," she replied softly after a short pause. "He has made +an impression on me which I haven't yet been able to analyse, further +than that I suffer and tremble beneath it. It is an impression of the +sort I have met with in the works of poets or on the stage, but I +always thought it was a figment of the imagination. Oh, he is a man +like a lion, strong and beautiful and yet gentle, not brutal like the +men of our northern world. I am sorry for you, Severin, I am; but I +must possess him. What am I saying? I must give myself to him, if he +will have me." + +"Consider your reputation, Wanda, which so far has remained +spotless," I exclaimed, "even if I no longer mean anything to you." + +"I am considering it," she replied, "I intend to be strong, as long +as it is possible, I want--" she buried her head shyly in the pillows +--"I want to become his wife--if he will have me." + +"Wanda," I cried, seized again by that mortal fear, which always +robs me of my breath, makes me lose possession of myself, "you want +to be his wife, belong to him for always. Oh! Do not drive me away! +He does not love you--" + +"Who says that?" she exclaimed, flaring up. + +"He does not love you," I went on passionately, "but I love you, I +adore you, I am your slave, I let you tread me underfoot, I want to +carry you on my arms through life." + +"Who says that he doesn't love me?" she interrupted vehemently. + +"Oh! be mine," I replied, "be mine! I cannot exist, cannot live +without you. Have mercy on me, Wanda, have mercy!" + +She looked at me again, and her face had her cold heartless +expression, her evil smile. + +"You say he doesn't love me," she said, scornfully. "Very well then, +get what consolation you can out of it." + +With this she turned over on the other side, and contemptuously +showed me her back. + +"Good God, are you a woman without flesh or blood, haven't you a +heart as well as I!" I cried, while my breast heaved convulsively. + +"You know what I am," she replied, coldly. "I am a woman of stone, +_Venus in Furs_, your ideal, kneel down, and pray to me." + +"Wanda!" I implored, "mercy!" + +She began to laugh. I buried my face in her pillows. Pain had +loosened the floodgates of my tears and I let them flow. + +For a long time silence reigned, then Wanda slowly raised herself. + +"You bore me," she began. + +"Wanda!" + +"I am tired, let me go to sleep." + +"Mercy," I implored. "Do not drive me away. No man, no one, will +love you as I do." + +"Let me go to sleep,"--she turned her back to me again. + +I leaped up, and snatched the poinard, which hung beside her bed, +from its sheath, and placed its point against my breast. + +"I shall kill myself here before your eyes," I murmured dully. + +"Do what you please," Wanda replied with complete indifference. "But +let me go to sleep." She yawned aloud. "I am very sleepy." + +For a moment I stood as if petrified. Then I began to laugh and cry +at the same time. Finally I placed the poinard in my belt, and again +fell on my knees before her. + +"Wanda, listen to me, only for a few moments," I begged. + +"I want to go to sleep! Don't you hear!" she cried, leaping angrily +out of bed and pushing me away with her foot. "You forget that I am +your mistress?" When I didn't budge, she seized the whip and struck +me. I rose; she struck me again--this time right in the face. + +"Wretch, slave!" + +With clenched fist held heavenward, I left her bedroom with a sudden +resolve. She tossed the whip aside, and broke out into clear +laughter. I can imagine that my theatrical attitude must have been +very droll. + + * * * * * + +I have determined to set myself free from this heartless woman, who +has treated me so cruelly, and is now about to break faith and betray +me, as a reward for all my slavish devotion, for everything I have +suffered from her. I packed my few belongings into a bundle, and then +wrote her as follows: + +"Dear Madam,-- + +I have loved you even to madness, I have given myself to you as no man +ever has given himself to a woman. You have abused my most sacred +emotions, and played an impudent, frivolous game with me. However, as +long as you were merely cruel and merciless, it was still possible for +me to love you. Now you are about to become _cheap_. I am no longer +the slave whom you can kick about and whip. You yourself have set me +free, and I am leaving a woman I can only hate and despise. + +Severin Kusiemski." + +I handed these lines to the negress, and hastened away as fast as I +could go. I arrived at the railway-station all out of breath. +Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my heart and stopped. I began to +weep. It is humiliating that I want to flee and I can't. I turn back-- +whither?--to her, whom I abhor, and yet, at the same time, adore. + +Again I pause. I cannot go back. I dare not. + +But how am I to leave Florence. I remember that I haven't any money, +not a penny. Very well then, on foot; it is better to be an honest +beggar than to eat the bread of a courtesan. + +But still I can't leave. + +She has my pledge, my word of honor. I have to return. Perhaps she +will release me. + +After a few rapid strides, I stop again. + +She has my word of honor and my bond, that I shall remain her slave +as long as she desires, until she herself gives me my freedom. But +I might kill myself. + +I go through the Cascine down to the Arno, where its yellow waters +plash monotonously about a couple of stray willows. There I sit, and +cast up my final accounts with existence. I let my entire life pass +before me in review. On the whole, it is rather a wretched affair--a +few joys, an endless number of indifferent and worthless things, and +between these an abundant harvest of pains, miseries, fears, +disappointments, shipwrecked hopes, afflictions, sorrow and grief. + +I thought of my mother, whom I loved so deeply and whom I had to +watch waste away beneath a horrible disease; of my brother, who full +of the promise of joy and happiness died in the flower of youth, +without even having put his lips to the cup of life. I thought of my +dead nurse, my childhood playmates, the friends that had striven and +studied with me; of all those, covered by the cold, dead, indifferent +earth. I thought of my turtle-dove, who not infrequently made his +cooing bows to me, instead of to his mate.--All have returned, dust +unto dust. + +I laughed aloud, and slid down into the water, but at the same +moment I caught hold of one of the willow-branches, hanging above the +yellow waves. As in a vision, I see the woman who has caused all my +misery. She hovers above the level of the water, luminous in the +sunlight as though she were transparent, with red flames about her +head and neck. She turns her face toward me and smiles. + + * * * * * + +I am back again, dripping, wet through, glowing with shame and +fever. The negress has delivered my letter; I am judged, lost, in the +power of a heartless, affronted woman. + +Well, let her kill me. I am unable to do it myself, and yet I have +no wish to go on living. + +As I walk around the house, she is standing in the gallery, leaning +over the railing. Her face is full in the light of the sun, and her +green eyes sparkle. + +"Still alive?" she asked, without moving. I stood silent, with bowed +head. + +"Give me back my poinard," she continued. "It is of no use to you. +You haven't even the courage to take your own life." + +"I have lost it," I replied, trembling, shaken by chills. + +She looked me over with a proud, scornful glance. + +"I suppose you lost it in the Arno?" She shrugged her shoulders. "No +matter. Well, and why didn't you leave?" + +I mumbled something which neither she nor I myself could understand. + +"Oh! you haven't any money," she cried. "Here!" With an +indescribably disdainful gesture she tossed me her purse. + +I did not pick it up. + +Both of us were silent for some time. + +"You don't want to leave then?" + +"I can't." + + * * * * * + +Wanda drives in the Cascine without me, and goes to the theater +without me; she receives company, and the negress serves her. No one +asks after me. I stray about the garden, irresolutely, like an animal +that has lost its master. + +Lying among the bushes, I watch a couple of sparrows, fighting over +a seed. + +Suddenly I hear the swish of a woman's dress. + +Wanda approaches in a gown of dark silk, modestly closed up to the +neck; the Greek is with her. They are in an eager discussion, but I +cannot as yet understand a word of what they are saying. He stamps +his foot so that the gravel scatters about in all directions, and he +lashes the air with his riding whip. Wanda startles. + +Is she afraid that he will strike her? + +Have they gone that far? + +He has left her, she calls him; he does not hear her, does not want +to hear her. + +Wanda sadly lowers her head, and then sits down on the nearest +stone-bench. She sits for a long time, lost in thought. I watch her with +a sort of malevolent pleasure, finally I pull myself together by sheer +force of will, and ironically step before her. She startles, and +trembles all over. + +"I come to wish you happiness," I said, bowing, "I see, my dear +lady, too, has found a master." + +"Yes, thank God!" she exclaimed, "not a new slave, I have had enough +of them. A master! Woman needs a master, and she adores him." + +"You adore him, Wanda?" I cried, "this brutal person--" + +"Yes, I love him, as I have never loved any one else." + +"Wanda!" I clenched my fists, but tears already filled my eyes, and +I was seized by the delirium of passion, as by a sweet madness. "Very +well, take him as your husband, let him be your master, but I want +to remain your slave, as long as I live." + +"You want to remain my slave, even then?" she said, "that would be +interesting, but I am afraid he wouldn't permit it." + +"He?" + +"Yes, he is already jealous of you," she exclaimed, "he, of you! He +demanded that I dismiss you immediately, and when I told him who you +were--" + +"You told him--" I repeated, thunderstruck. + +"I told him everything," she replied, "our whole story, all your +queerness, everything--and he, instead of being amused, grew angry, +and stamped his foot." + +"And threatened to strike you?" + +Wanda looked to the ground, and remained silent. + +"Yes, indeed," I said with mocking bitterness, "you are afraid of +him, Wanda!" I threw myself down at her feet, and in my agitation +embraced her knees. "I don't want anything of you, except to be your +slave, to be always near you! I will be your dog-" + +"Do you know, you bore me?" said Wanda, indifferently. + +I leaped up. Everything within me was seething. + +"You are now no longer cruel, but cheap," I said, clearly and +distinctly, accentuating every word. + +"You have already written that in your letter," Wanda replied, with +a proud shrug of the shoulders. "A man of brains should never repeat +himself." + +"The way you are treating me," I broke out, "what would you call it?" + +"I might punish you," she replied ironically, "but I prefer this +time to reply with reasons instead of lashes. You have no right to +accuse me. Haven't I always been honest with you? Haven't I warned +you more than once? Didn't I love you with all my heart, even +passionately, and did I conceal the fact from you, that it was +dangerous to give yourself into my power, to abase yourself before +me, and that I want to be dominated? But you wished to be my +plaything, my slave! You found the highest pleasure in feeling the +foot, the whip of an arrogant, cruel woman. What do you want now? + +"Dangerous potentialities were slumbering in me, but you were the +first to awaken them. If I now take pleasure in torturing you, +abusing you, it is your fault; you have made of me what I now am, and +now you are even unmanly, weak, and miserable enough to accuse me." + +"Yes, I am guilty," I said, "but haven't I suffered because of it? +Let us put an end now to the cruel game." + +"That is my wish, too," she replied with a curious deceitful look. + +"Wanda!" I exclaimed violently, "don't drive me to extremes; you see +that I am a man again." + +"A fire of straw," she replied, "which makes a lot of stir for a +moment, and goes out as quickly as it flared up. You imagine you can +intimidate me, and you only make yourself ridiculous. Had you been +the man I first thought you were, serious, reserved, stern, I would +have loved you faithfully, and become your wife. Woman demands that +she can look up to a man, but one like you who voluntarily places his +neck under her foot, she uses as a welcome plaything, only to toss +it aside when she is tired of it." + +"Try to toss me aside," I said, jeeringly. "Some toys are dangerous." + +"Don't challenge me," exclaimed Wanda. Her eyes began to flash, and +a flush entered her cheeks. + +"If you won't be mine now," I continued, with a voice stifled with +rage, "no one else shall possess you either." + +"What play is this from?" she mocked, seizing me by the breast. She +was pale with anger at this moment. "Don't challenge me," she +continued, "I am not cruel, but I don't know whether I may not become +so and whether then there will be any bounds." + +"What worse can you do, than to make your lover, your husband?" I +exclaimed, more and more enraged. + +"I might make you _his_ slave," she replied quickly, "are you not in +my power? Haven't I the agreement? But, of course, you will merely +take pleasure in it, if I have you bound, and say to him. + +"Do with him what you please." + +"Woman, are you mad!" I cried. + +"I am entirely rational," she said, calmly. "I warn you for the last +time. Don't offer any resistance, one who has gone as far as I have +gone might easily go still further. I feel a sort of hatred for you, +and would find a real joy in seeing him beat you to death; I am still +restraining myself, but--" + +Scarcely master of myself any longer, I seized her by the wrist and +forced her to the ground, so that she lay on her knees before me. + +"Severin!" she cried. Rage and terror were painted on her face. + +"I shall kill you if you marry him," I threatened; the words came +hoarsely and dully from my breast. "You are mine, I won't let you go, +I love you too much." Then I clutched her and pressed her close to +me; my right hand involuntarily seized the dagger which I still had +in my belt. + +Wanda fixed a large, calm, incomprehensible look on me. + +"I like you that way," she said, carelessly. "Now you are a man, and +at this moment I know I still love you." + +"Wanda," I wept with rapture, and bent down over her, covering her +dear face with kisses, and she, suddenly breaking into a loud gay +laugh, said, "Have you finished with your ideal now, are you +satisfied with me?" + +"You mean?" I stammered, "that you weren't serious?" + +"I am very serious," she gaily continued. "I love you, only you, and +you--you foolish, little man, didn't know that everything was only +make-believe and play-acting. How hard it often was for me to strike +you with the whip, when I would have rather taken your head and +covered it with kisses. But now we are through with that, aren't we? +I have played my cruel role better than you expected, and now you +will be satisfied with my being a good, little wife who isn't +altogether unattractive. Isn't that so? We will live like rational +people--" + +"You will marry me!" I cried, overflowing with happiness. + +"Yes--marry you--you dear, darling man," whispered Wanda, kissing my +hands. + +I drew her up to my breast. + +"Now, you are no longer Gregor, my slave," said she, "but Severin, +the dear man I love--" + +"And he--you don't love him?" I asked in agitation. + +"How could you imagine my loving a man of his brutal type? You were +blind to everything, I was really afraid for you." + +"I almost killed myself for your sake." + +"Really?" she cried, "ah, I still tremble at the thought, that you +were already in the Arno." + +"But you saved me," I replied, tenderly. "You hovered over the +waters and smiled, and your smile called me back to life." + + * * * * * + +I have a curious feeling when I now hold her in my arms and she lies +silently against my breast and lets me kiss her and smiles. I feel +like one who has suddenly awakened out of a feverish delirium, or +like a shipwrecked man who has for many days battled with waves that +momentarily threatened to devour him and finally has found a safe +shore. + + * * * * * + +"I hate this Florence, where you have been so unhappy," she +declared, as I was saying good-night to her. "I want to leave +immediately, tomorrow, you will be good enough to write a couple of +letters for me, and, while you are doing that, I will drive to the +city to pay my farewell visits. Is that satisfactory to you?" + +"Of course, you dear, sweet, beautiful woman." + + * * * * * + +Early in the morning she knocked at my door to ask how I had slept. +Her tenderness is positively wonderful. I should never have believed +that she could be so tender. + + * * * * * + +She has now been gone for over four hours. I have long since +finished the letters, and am now sitting in the gallery, looking down +the street to see whether I cannot discover her carriage in the +distance. I am a little worried about her, and yet I know there is +no reason under heaven why I should doubt or fear. However, a feeling +of oppression weighs me down, and I cannot rid myself of it. It is +probably the sufferings of the past days, which still cast their +shadows into my soul. + + * * * * * + +She is back, radiant with happiness and contentment. + +"Well, has everything gone as you wished?" I asked tenderly, kissing +her hand. + +"Yes, dear heart," she replied, "and we shall leave to-night. Help +me pack my trunks." + + * * * * * + +Toward evening she asked me to go to the post-office and mail her +letters myself. I took her carriage, and was back within an hour. + +"Mistress has asked for you," said the negress, with a grin, as I +ascended the wide marble stairs. + +"Has anyone been here?" + +"No one," she replied, crouching down on the steps like a black cat. + +I slowly passed through the drawing-room, and then stood before her +bedroom door. + +Why does my heart beat so? Am I not perfectly happy? + +Opening the door softly, I draw back the portiere. Wanda is lying on +the ottoman, and does not seem to notice me. How beautiful she looks, +in her silver-gray dress, which fits closely, and while displaying +in tell-tale fashion her splendid figure, leaves her wonderful bust +and arms bare. + +Her hair is interwoven with, and held up by a black velvet ribbon. +A mighty fire is burning in the fire-place, the hanging lamp casts +a reddish glow, and the whole room is as if drowned in blood. + +"Wanda," I said at last. + +"Oh Severin," she cried out joyously. "I have been impatiently +waiting for you." She leaped up, and folded me in her arms. She sat +down again on the rich cushions and tried to draw me down to her +side, but I softly slid down to her feet and placed my head in her +lap. + +"Do you know I am very much in love with you to-day?" she whispered, +brushing a few stray hairs from my forehead and kissing my eyes. + +"How beautiful your eyes are, I have always loved them as the best +of you, but to-day they fairly intoxicate me. I am all--" She +extended her magnificent limbs and tenderly looked at me from beneath +her red lashes. + +"And you--you are cold--you hold me like a block of wood; wait, I'll +stir you with the fire of love," she said, and again clung fawningly +and caressingly to my lips. + +"I no longer please you; I suppose I'll have to be cruel to you +again, evidently I have been too kind to you to-day. Do you know, you +little fool, what I shall do, I shall whip you for a while--" + +"But child--" + +"I want to." + +"Wanda!" + +"Come, let me bind you," she continued, and ran gaily through the +room. "I want to see you very much in love, do you understand? Here +are the ropes. I wonder if I can still do it?" + +She began with fettering my feet and then she tied my hands behind +my back, pinioning my arms like those of a prisoner. + +"So," she said, with gay eagerness. "Can you still move?" + +"No." + +"Fine--" + +She then tied a noose in a stout rope, threw it over my head, and +let it slip down as far as the hips. She drew it tight, and bound me +to a pillar. + +A curious tremor seized me at that moment. + +"I have a feeling as if I were about to be executed," I said with a +low voice. + +"Well, you shall have a thorough punishment to-day," exclaimed Wanda. + +"But put on your fur-jacket, please," I said. + +"I shall gladly give you that pleasure," she replied. She got her +_kazabaika_, and put it on. Then she stood in front of me with +her arms folded across her chest, and looked at me out of half-closed +eyes. + +"Do you remember the story of the ox of Dionysius?" she asked. + +"I remember it only vaguely, what about it?" + +"A courtier invented a new implement of torture for the Tyrant of +Syracuse. It was an iron ox in which those condemned to death were +to be shut, and then pushed into a mighty furnace. + +"As soon as the iron ox began to get hot, and the condemned person +began to cry out in his torment, his wails sounded like the bellowing +of an ox. + +"Dionysius nodded graciously to the inventor, and to put his +invention to an immediate test had him shut up in the iron ox. + +"It is a very instructive story. + +"It was you who innoculated me with selfishness, pride, and cruelty, +and _you shall be their first victim._ I now literally enjoy having a +human being that thinks and feels and desires like myself in my power; +I love to abuse a man who is stronger in intelligence and body than I, +especially a man who loves me. + +"Do you still love me?" + +"Even to madness," I exclaimed. + +"So much the better," she replied, "and so much the more will you +enjoy what I am about to do with you now." + +"What is the matter with you?" I asked. "I don't understand you, +there is a gleam of real cruelty in your eyes to-day, and you are +strangely beautiful--completely _Venus in Furs."_ + +Without replying Wanda placed her arms around my neck and kissed me. +I was again seized by my fanatical passion. + +"Where is the whip?" I asked. + +Wanda laughed, and withdrew a couple of steps. + +"You really insist upon being punished?" she exclaimed, proudly +tossing back her head. + +"Yes." + +Suddenly Wanda's face was completely transformed. It was as if +disfigured by rage; for a moment she seemed even ugly to me. + +"Very well, then _you_ whip him!" she called loudly. + +At the same instant the beautiful Greek stuck his head of black +curls through the curtains of her four-poster bed. At first I was +speechless, petrified. There was a horribly comic element in the +situation. I would have laughed aloud, had not my position been at +the same time so terribly cruel and humiliating. + +It went beyond anything I had imagined. A cold shudder ran down my +back, when my rival stepped from the bed in his riding boots, his +tight-fitting white breeches, and his short velvet jacket, and I saw +his athletic limbs. + +"You are indeed cruel," he said, turning to Wanda. + +"Only inordinately fond of pleasure," she replied with a wild sort +of humor. "Pleasure alone lends value to existence; whoever enjoys +does not easily part from life, whoever suffers or is needy meets +death like a friend. + +"But whoever wants to enjoy must take life gaily in the sense of the +ancient world; he dare not hesitate to enjoy at the expense of others; +he must never feel pity; he must be ready to harness others to his +carriage or his plough as though they were animals. He must know how to +make slaves of men who feel and would enjoy as he does, and use them for +his service and pleasure without remorse. It is not his affair whether +they like it, or whether they go to rack and ruin. He must always +remember this, that if they had him in their power, as he has them they +would act in exactly the same way, and he would have to pay for their +pleasure with his sweat and blood and soul. That was the world of the +ancients: pleasure and cruelty, liberty and slavery went hand in hand. +People who want to live like the gods of Olympus must of necessity have +slaves whom they can toss into their fish-ponds, and gladiators who will +do battle, the while they banquet, and they must not mind if by chance a +bit of blood bespatters them." + +Her words brought back my complete self-possession. + +"Unloosen me!" I exclaimed angrily. + +"Aren't you my slave, my property?" replied Wanda. "Do you want me +to show you the agreement?" + +"Untie me!" I threatened, "otherwise--" I tugged at the ropes. + +"Can he tear himself free?" she asked. "He has threatened to kill me." + +"Be entirely at ease," said the Greek, testing my fetters. + +"I shall call for help," I began again. + +"No one will hear you," replied Wanda, "and no one will hinder me +from abusing your most sacred emotions or playing a frivolous game +with you." she continued, repeating with satanic mockery phrases from +my letter to her. + +"Do you think I am at this moment merely cruel and merciless, or am +I also about to become cheap? What? Do you still love me, or do you +already hate and despise me? Here is the whip--" She handed it to the +Greek who quickly stepped closer. + +"Don't you dare!" I exclaimed, trembling with indignation, "I won't +permit it--" + +"Oh, because I don't wear furs," the Greek replied with an ironical +smile, and he took his short sable from the bed. + +"You are adorable," exclaimed Wanda, kissing him, and helping him +into his furs. + +"May I really whip him?" he asked. + +"Do with him what you please," replied Wanda. + +"Beast!" I exclaimed, utterly revolted. + +The Greek fixed his cold tigerish look upon me and tried out the +whip. His muscles swelled when he drew back his arms, and made the +whip hiss through the air. I was bound like Marsyas while Apollo was +getting ready to flay me. + +My look wandered about the room and remained fixed on the ceiling, +where Samson, lying at Delilah's feet, was about to have his eyes put +out by the Philistines. The picture at that moment seemed to me like +a symbol, an eternal parable of passion and lust, of the love of man +for woman. "Each one of us in the end is a Samson," I thought, "and +ultimately for better or worse is betrayed by the woman he loves, +whether he wears an ordinary coat or sables." + +"Now watch me break him in," said the Greek. He showed his teeth, +and his face acquired the blood-thirsty expression, which startled +me the first time I saw him. + +And he began to apply the lash--so mercilessly, with such frightful +force that I quivered under each blow, and began to tremble all over +with pain. Tears rolled down over my cheeks. In the meantime Wanda +lay on the ottoman in her fur-jacket, supporting herself on her arm; +she looked on with cruel curiosity, and was convulsed with laughter. + +The sensation of being whipped by a successful rival before the eyes +of an adored woman cannot be described. I almost went mad with shame +and despair. + +What was most humiliating was that at first I felt a certain wild, +supersensual stimulation under Apollo's whip and the cruel laughter +of my Venus, no matter how horrible my position was. But Apollo +whipped on and on, blow after blow, until I forgot all about poetry, +and finally gritted my teeth in impotent rage, and cursed my wild +dreams, woman, and love. + +All of a sudden I saw with horrible clarity whither blind passion +and lust have led man, ever since Holofernes and Agamemnon--into a +blind alley, into the net of woman's treachery, into misery, slavery, +and death. + +It was as though I were awakening from a dream. + +Blood was already flowing under the whip. I wound like a worm that +is trodden on, but he whipped on without mercy, and she continued to +laugh without mercy. In the meantime she locked her packed trunk and +slipped into her travelling furs, and was still laughing, when she +went downstairs on his arm and entered the carriage. + +Then everything was silent for a moment. + +I listened breathlessly. + +The carriage door slammed, the horse began to pull--the rolling of +the carriage for a short time--then all was over. + + * * * * * + +For a moment I thought of taking vengeance, of killing him, but I +was bound by the abominable agreement. So nothing was left for me to +do except to keep my pledged word and grit my teeth. + + * * * * * + +My first impulse after this, the most cruel catastrophe of my life, +was to seek laborious tasks, dangers, and privations. I wanted to +become a soldier and go to Asia or Algiers, but my father was old and +ill and wanted me. + +So I quietly returned home and for two years helped him bear his +burdens, and learned how to look after the estate which I had never +done before. To _labor_ and to _do my duty_ was comforting like a +drink of fresh water. Then my father died, and I inherited the estate, +but it meant no change. + +I had put on my own Spanish boots and went on living just as +rationally as if the old man were standing behind me, looking over +my shoulder with his large wise eyes. + +One day a box arrived, accompanied by a letter. I recognized Wanda's +writing. + +Curiously moved, I opened it, and read. + +"Sir.-- + +Now that over three years have passed since that night in Florence, +I suppose, I may confess to you that I loved you deeply. You +yourself, however, stifled my love by your fantastic devotion and +your insane passion. From the moment that you became my slave, I knew +it would be impossible for you ever to become my husband. However, +I found it interesting to have you realize your ideal in my own person, +and, while I gloriously amused myself, perhaps, to cure you. + +I found the strong man for whom I felt a need, and I was as happy +with him as, I suppose, it is possible for any one to be on this +funny ball of clay. + +But my happiness, like all things mortal, was of short duration. +About a year ago he fell in a duel, and since then I have been living +in Paris, like an Aspasia-- + +And you?--Your life surely is not without its sunshine, if you have +gained control of your imagination, and those qualities in you have +materialized, which at first so attracted me to you--your clarity of +intellect, kindness of heart, and, above all else, your--_moral +seriousness_. + +I hope you have been cured under my whip; the cure was cruel, but +radical. In memory of that time and of a woman who loved you +passionately, I am sending you the portrait by the poor German. + +_Venus in Furs_." + +I had to smile, and as I fell to musing the beautiful woman suddenly +stood before me in her velvet jacket trimmed with ermine, with the +whip in her hand. And I continued to smile at the woman I had once +loved so insanely, at the fur-jacket that had once so entranced me, +at the whip, and ended by smiling at myself and saying: The cure was +cruel, but radical; but the main point is, I have been cured. + + * * * * * + +"And the moral of the story?" I said to Severin when I put the +manuscript down on the table. + +"That I was a donkey," he exclaimed without turning around, for he +seemed to be embarrassed. "If only I had beaten her!" + +"A curious remedy," I exclaimed, "which might answer with your +peasant-women--" + +"Oh, they are used to it," he replied eagerly, "but imagine the +effect upon one of our delicate, nervous, hysterical ladies--" + +"But the moral?" + +"That woman, as nature has created her and as man is at present +educating her, is his enemy. She can only be his slave or his despot, +but _never his companion._ This she can become only when she has +the same rights as he, and is his equal in education and work. + +"At present we have only the choice of being hammer or anvil, and I +was the kind of donkey who let a woman make a slave of him, do you +understand? + +"The moral of the tale is this: whoever allows himself to be +whipped, deserves to be whipped. + +"The blows, as you see, have agreed with me; the roseate supersensual +mist has dissolved, and no one can ever make me believe again that +these 'sacred apes of Benares' [Footnote: One of Schopenhauer's +designations for women.] or Plato's rooster [Footnote: Diogenes +threw a plucked rooster into Plato's school and exclaimed: "Here +you have Plato's human being."] are the image of God." + + +Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of +lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow +dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild +morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: + +—_Introibo ad altare Dei_. + +Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: + +—Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit! + +Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about +and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the +awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent +towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat +and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned +his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking +gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light +untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak. + +Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the +bowl smartly. + +—Back to barracks! he said sternly. + +He added in a preacher’s tone: + +—For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul +and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One +moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all. + +He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused +awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and +there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles +answered through the calm. + +—Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off +the current, will you? + +He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering +about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and +sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages. +A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips. + +—The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek! + +He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, +laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily +halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as +he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and +lathered cheeks and neck. + +Buck Mulligan’s gay voice went on. + +—My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a +Hellenic ring, hasn’t it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We +must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out +twenty quid? + +He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried: + +—Will he come? The jejune jesuit! + +Ceasing, he began to shave with care. + +—Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly. + +—Yes, my love? + +—How long is Haines going to stay in this tower? + +Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder. + +—God, isn’t he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks +you’re not a gentleman. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money +and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You know, Dedalus, you +have the real Oxford manner. He can’t make you out. O, my name for you +is the best: Kinch, the knife-blade. + +He shaved warily over his chin. + +—He was raving all night about a black panther, Stephen said. Where is +his guncase? + +—A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk? + +—I was, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark +with a man I don’t know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a +black panther. You saved men from drowning. I’m not a hero, however. If +he stays on here I am off. + +Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade. He hopped down +from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily. + +—Scutter! he cried thickly. + +He came over to the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Stephen’s upper +pocket, said: + +—Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor. + +Stephen suffered him to pull out and hold up on show by its corner a +dirty crumpled handkerchief. Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly. +Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said: + +—The bard’s noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen. +You can almost taste it, can’t you? + +He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair +oakpale hair stirring slightly. + +—God! he said quietly. Isn’t the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet +mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. _Epi oinopa +ponton_. Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them +in the original. _Thalatta! Thalatta!_ She is our great sweet mother. +Come and look. + +Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. Leaning on it he looked +down on the water and on the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth of +Kingstown. + +—Our mighty mother! Buck Mulligan said. + +He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen’s +face. + +—The aunt thinks you killed your mother, he said. That’s why she won’t +let me have anything to do with you. + +—Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily. + +—You could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother +asked you, Buck Mulligan said. I’m hyperborean as much as you. But to +think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and +pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you.... + +He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. A tolerant +smile curled his lips. + +—But a lovely mummer! he murmured to himself. Kinch, the loveliest +mummer of them all! + +He shaved evenly and with care, in silence, seriously. + +Stephen, an elbow rested on the jagged granite, leaned his palm against +his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black coat-sleeve. +Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. Silently, +in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within +its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, +her breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a faint odour of +wetted ashes. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea hailed as a +great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him. The ring of bay and +skyline held a dull green mass of liquid. A bowl of white china had +stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had +torn up from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting. + +Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade. + +—Ah, poor dogsbody! he said in a kind voice. I must give you a shirt +and a few noserags. How are the secondhand breeks? + +—They fit well enough, Stephen answered. + +Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip. + +—The mockery of it, he said contentedly. Secondleg they should be. God +knows what poxy bowsy left them off. I have a lovely pair with a hair +stripe, grey. You’ll look spiffing in them. I’m not joking, Kinch. You +look damn well when you’re dressed. + +—Thanks, Stephen said. I can’t wear them if they are grey. + +—He can’t wear them, Buck Mulligan told his face in the mirror. +Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can’t wear grey +trousers. + +He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the +smooth skin. + +Stephen turned his gaze from the sea and to the plump face with its +smokeblue mobile eyes. + +—That fellow I was with in the Ship last night, said Buck Mulligan, +says you have g. p. i. He’s up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. +General paralysis of the insane! + +He swept the mirror a half circle in the air to flash the tidings +abroad in sunlight now radiant on the sea. His curling shaven lips +laughed and the edges of his white glittering teeth. Laughter seized +all his strong wellknit trunk. + +—Look at yourself, he said, you dreadful bard! + +Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft by +a crooked crack. Hair on end. As he and others see me. Who chose this +face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin. It asks me too. + +—I pinched it out of the skivvy’s room, Buck Mulligan said. It does her +all right. The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. +Lead him not into temptation. And her name is Ursula. + +Laughing again, he brought the mirror away from Stephen’s peering eyes. + +—The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror, he said. If +Wilde were only alive to see you! + +Drawing back and pointing, Stephen said with bitterness: + +—It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked lookingglass of a servant. + +Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm in Stephen’s and walked with him +round the tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he +had thrust them. + +—It’s not fair to tease you like that, Kinch, is it? he said kindly. +God knows you have more spirit than any of them. + +Parried again. He fears the lancet of my art as I fear that of his. The +cold steel pen. + +—Cracked lookingglass of a servant! Tell that to the oxy chap +downstairs and touch him for a guinea. He’s stinking with money and +thinks you’re not a gentleman. His old fellow made his tin by selling +jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other. God, Kinch, if you and +I could only work together we might do something for the island. +Hellenise it. + +Cranly’s arm. His arm. + +—And to think of your having to beg from these swine. I’m the only one +that knows what you are. Why don’t you trust me more? What have you up +your nose against me? Is it Haines? If he makes any noise here I’ll +bring down Seymour and we’ll give him a ragging worse than they gave +Clive Kempthorpe. + +Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe’s rooms. Palefaces: +they hold their ribs with laughter, one clasping another. O, I shall +expire! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey! I shall die! With slit +ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the +table, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the +tailor’s shears. A scared calf’s face gilded with marmalade. I don’t +want to be debagged! Don’t you play the giddy ox with me! + +Shouts from the open window startling evening in the quadrangle. A deaf +gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold’s face, pushes his mower +on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms. + +To ourselves... new paganism... omphalos. + +—Let him stay, Stephen said. There’s nothing wrong with him except at +night. + +—Then what is it? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I’m +quite frank with you. What have you against me now? + +They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on +the water like the snout of a sleeping whale. Stephen freed his arm +quietly. + +—Do you wish me to tell you? he asked. + +—Yes, what is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don’t remember anything. + +He looked in Stephen’s face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow, +fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of +anxiety in his eyes. + +Stephen, depressed by his own voice, said: + +—Do you remember the first day I went to your house after my mother’s +death? + +Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said: + +—What? Where? I can’t remember anything. I remember only ideas and +sensations. Why? What happened in the name of God? + +—You were making tea, Stephen said, and went across the landing to get +more hot water. Your mother and some visitor came out of the +drawingroom. She asked you who was in your room. + +—Yes? Buck Mulligan said. What did I say? I forget. + +—You said, Stephen answered, _O, it’s only Dedalus whose mother is +beastly dead._ + +A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to Buck +Mulligan’s cheek. + +—Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that? + +He shook his constraint from him nervously. + +—And what is death, he asked, your mother’s or yours or my own? You saw +only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and +Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It’s a beastly +thing and nothing else. It simply doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t kneel +down to pray for your mother on her deathbed when she asked you. Why? +Because you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, only it’s injected +the wrong way. To me it’s all a mockery and beastly. Her cerebral lobes +are not functioning. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks +buttercups off the quilt. Humour her till it’s over. You crossed her +last wish in death and yet you sulk with me because I don’t whinge like +some hired mute from Lalouette’s. Absurd! I suppose I did say it. I +didn’t mean to offend the memory of your mother. + +He had spoken himself into boldness. Stephen, shielding the gaping +wounds which the words had left in his heart, said very coldly: + +—I am not thinking of the offence to my mother. + +—Of what then? Buck Mulligan asked. + +—Of the offence to me, Stephen answered. + +Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel. + +—O, an impossible person! he exclaimed. + +He walked off quickly round the parapet. Stephen stood at his post, +gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. Sea and headland now +grew dim. Pulses were beating in his eyes, veiling their sight, and he +felt the fever of his cheeks. + +A voice within the tower called loudly: + +—Are you up there, Mulligan? + +—I’m coming, Buck Mulligan answered. + +He turned towards Stephen and said: + +—Look at the sea. What does it care about offences? Chuck Loyola, +Kinch, and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers. + +His head halted again for a moment at the top of the staircase, level +with the roof: + +—Don’t mope over it all day, he said. I’m inconsequent. Give up the +moody brooding. + +His head vanished but the drone of his descending voice boomed out of +the stairhead: + + And no more turn aside and brood + Upon love’s bitter mystery + For Fergus rules the brazen cars. + +Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the +stairhead seaward where he gazed. Inshore and farther out the mirror of +water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of the +dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the +harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words +shimmering on the dim tide. + +A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay in +deeper green. It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters. Fergus’ +song: I sang it alone in the house, holding down the long dark chords. +Her door was open: she wanted to hear my music. Silent with awe and +pity I went to her bedside. She was crying in her wretched bed. For +those words, Stephen: love’s bitter mystery. + +Where now? + +Her secrets: old featherfans, tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk, +a gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. A birdcage hung in the +sunny window of her house when she was a girl. She heard old Royce sing +in the pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he +sang: + + I am the boy + That can enjoy + Invisibility. + +Phantasmal mirth, folded away: muskperfumed. + + And no more turn aside and brood. + + +Folded away in the memory of nature with her toys. Memories beset his +brooding brain. Her glass of water from the kitchen tap when she had +approached the sacrament. A cored apple, filled with brown sugar, +roasting for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening. Her shapely +fingernails reddened by the blood of squashed lice from the children’s +shirts. + +In a dream, silently, she had come to him, her wasted body within its +loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, +bent over him with mute secret words, a faint odour of wetted ashes. + +Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul. On +me alone. The ghostcandle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the +tortured face. Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all +prayed on their knees. Her eyes on me to strike me down. _Liliata +rutilantium te confessorum turma circumdet: iubilantium te virginum +chorus excipiat._ + +Ghoul! Chewer of corpses! + +No, mother! Let me be and let me live. + +—Kinch ahoy! + +Buck Mulligan’s voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the +staircase, calling again. Stephen, still trembling at his soul’s cry, +heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words. + +—Dedalus, come down, like a good mosey. Breakfast is ready. Haines is +apologising for waking us last night. It’s all right. + +—I’m coming, Stephen said, turning. + +—Do, for Jesus’ sake, Buck Mulligan said. For my sake and for all our +sakes. + +His head disappeared and reappeared. + +—I told him your symbol of Irish art. He says it’s very clever. Touch +him for a quid, will you? A guinea, I mean. + +—I get paid this morning, Stephen said. + +—The school kip? Buck Mulligan said. How much? Four quid? Lend us one. + +—If you want it, Stephen said. + +—Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan cried with delight. We’ll have +a glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Four omnipotent +sovereigns. + +He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out of +tune with a Cockney accent: + + O, won’t we have a merry time, + Drinking whisky, beer and wine! + On coronation, + Coronation day! + O, won’t we have a merry time + On coronation day! + +Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone, +forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it +there all day, forgotten friendship? + +He went over to it, held it in his hands awhile, feeling its coolness, +smelling the clammy slaver of the lather in which the brush was stuck. +So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. I am another now +and yet the same. A servant too. A server of a servant. + +In the gloomy domed livingroom of the tower Buck Mulligan’s gowned form +moved briskly to and fro about the hearth, hiding and revealing its +yellow glow. Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the flagged floor +from the high barbacans: and at the meeting of their rays a cloud of +coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning. + +—We’ll be choked, Buck Mulligan said. Haines, open that door, will you? + +Stephen laid the shavingbowl on the locker. A tall figure rose from the +hammock where it had been sitting, went to the doorway and pulled open +the inner doors. + +—Have you the key? a voice asked. + +—Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I’m choked! + +He howled, without looking up from the fire: + +—Kinch! + +—It’s in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward. + +The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had been +set ajar, welcome light and bright air entered. Haines stood at the +doorway, looking out. Stephen haled his upended valise to the table and +sat down to wait. Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the dish beside +him. Then he carried the dish and a large teapot over to the table, set +them down heavily and sighed with relief. + +—I’m melting, he said, as the candle remarked when... But, hush! Not a +word more on that subject! Kinch, wake up! Bread, butter, honey. +Haines, come in. The grub is ready. Bless us, O Lord, and these thy +gifts. Where’s the sugar? O, jay, there’s no milk. + +Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler from +the locker. Buck Mulligan sat down in a sudden pet. + +—What sort of a kip is this? he said. I told her to come after eight. + +—We can drink it black, Stephen said thirstily. There’s a lemon in the +locker. + +—O, damn you and your Paris fads! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove +milk. + +Haines came in from the doorway and said quietly: + +—That woman is coming up with the milk. + +—The blessings of God on you! Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his +chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. Here, +I can’t go fumbling at the damned eggs. + +He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three +plates, saying: + +—_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti._ + +Haines sat down to pour out the tea. + +—I’m giving you two lumps each, he said. But, I say, Mulligan, you do +make strong tea, don’t you? + +Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the loaf, said in an old +woman’s wheedling voice: + +—When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I +makes water I makes water. + +—By Jove, it is tea, Haines said. + +Buck Mulligan went on hewing and wheedling: + +—_So I do, Mrs Cahill,_ says she. _Begob, ma’am,_ says Mrs Cahill, _God +send you don’t make them in the one pot._ + +He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled +on his knife. + +—That’s folk, he said very earnestly, for your book, Haines. Five lines +of text and ten pages of notes about the folk and the fishgods of +Dundrum. Printed by the weird sisters in the year of the big wind. + +He turned to Stephen and asked in a fine puzzled voice, lifting his +brows: + +—Can you recall, brother, is mother Grogan’s tea and water pot spoken +of in the Mabinogion or is it in the Upanishads? + +—I doubt it, said Stephen gravely. + +—Do you now? Buck Mulligan said in the same tone. Your reasons, pray? + +—I fancy, Stephen said as he ate, it did not exist in or out of the +Mabinogion. Mother Grogan was, one imagines, a kinswoman of Mary Ann. + +Buck Mulligan’s face smiled with delight. + +—Charming! he said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth +and blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming! + +Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a hoarsened +rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf: + +_—For old Mary Ann + +She doesn’t care a damn. + +But, hising up her petticoats..._ + +He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned. + +The doorway was darkened by an entering form. + +—The milk, sir! + +—Come in, ma’am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug. + +An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen’s elbow. + +—That’s a lovely morning, sir, she said. Glory be to God. + +—To whom? Mulligan said, glancing at her. Ah, to be sure! + +Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker. + +—The islanders, Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of +the collector of prepuces. + +—How much, sir? asked the old woman. + +—A quart, Stephen said. + +He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white +milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful and a +tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe a +messenger. She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out. +Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on +her toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. They +lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and +poor old woman, names given her in old times. A wandering crone, lowly +form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their +common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to +upbraid, whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour. + +—It is indeed, ma’am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups. + +—Taste it, sir, she said. + +He drank at her bidding. + +—If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat +loudly, we wouldn’t have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten +guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved +with dust, horsedung and consumptives’ spits. + +—Are you a medical student, sir? the old woman asked. + +—I am, ma’am, Buck Mulligan answered. + +—Look at that now, she said. + +Stephen listened in scornful silence. She bows her old head to a voice +that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her medicineman: me she +slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there +is of her but her woman’s unclean loins, of man’s flesh made not in +God’s likeness, the serpent’s prey. And to the loud voice that now bids +her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes. + +—Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her. + +—Is it French you are talking, sir? the old woman said to Haines. + +Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently. + +—Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you? + +—I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the +west, sir? + +—I am an Englishman, Haines answered. + +—He’s English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak +Irish in Ireland. + +—Sure we ought to, the old woman said, and I’m ashamed I don’t speak +the language myself. I’m told it’s a grand language by them that knows. + +—Grand is no name for it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill +us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma’am? + +—No, thank you, sir, the old woman said, slipping the ring of the +milkcan on her forearm and about to go. + +Haines said to her: + +—Have you your bill? We had better pay her, Mulligan, hadn’t we? + +Stephen filled again the three cups. + +—Bill, sir? she said, halting. Well, it’s seven mornings a pint at +twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three +mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. That’s a +shilling and one and two is two and two, sir. + +Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly +buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs and began to search +his trouser pockets. + +—Pay up and look pleasant, Haines said to him, smiling. + +Stephen filled a third cup, a spoonful of tea colouring faintly the +thick rich milk. Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in +his fingers and cried: + +—A miracle! + +He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying: + +—Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give. + +Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand. + +—We’ll owe twopence, he said. + +—Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good +morning, sir. + +She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan’s tender chant: + +_—Heart of my heart, were it more, + +More would be laid at your feet._ + +He turned to Stephen and said: + +—Seriously, Dedalus. I’m stony. Hurry out to your school kip and bring +us back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland +expects that every man this day will do his duty. + +—That reminds me, Haines said, rising, that I have to visit your +national library today. + +—Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said. + +He turned to Stephen and asked blandly: + +—Is this the day for your monthly wash, Kinch? + +Then he said to Haines: + +—The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month. + +—All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream, Stephen said as he let honey +trickle over a slice of the loaf. + +Haines from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about the +loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke: + +—I intend to make a collection of your sayings if you will let me. + +Speaking to me. They wash and tub and scrub. Agenbite of inwit. +Conscience. Yet here’s a spot. + +—That one about the cracked lookingglass of a servant being the symbol +of Irish art is deuced good. + +Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen’s foot under the table and said with +warmth of tone: + +—Wait till you hear him on Hamlet, Haines. + +—Well, I mean it, Haines said, still speaking to Stephen. I was just +thinking of it when that poor old creature came in. + +—Would I make any money by it? Stephen asked. + +Haines laughed and, as he took his soft grey hat from the holdfast of +the hammock, said: + +—I don’t know, I’m sure. + +He strolled out to the doorway. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen +and said with coarse vigour: + +—You put your hoof in it now. What did you say that for? + +—Well? Stephen said. The problem is to get money. From whom? From the +milkwoman or from him. It’s a toss up, I think. + +—I blow him out about you, Buck Mulligan said, and then you come along +with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes. + +—I see little hope, Stephen said, from her or from him. + +Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen’s arm. + +—From me, Kinch, he said. + +In a suddenly changed tone he added: + +—To tell you the God’s truth I think you’re right. Damn all else they +are good for. Why don’t you play them as I do? To hell with them all. +Let us get out of the kip. + +He stood up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown, saying +resignedly: + +—Mulligan is stripped of his garments. + +He emptied his pockets on to the table. + +—There’s your snotrag, he said. + +And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them, +chiding them, and to his dangling watchchain. His hands plunged and +rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. God, +we’ll simply have to dress the character. I want puce gloves and green +boots. Contradiction. Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I +contradict myself. Mercurial Malachi. A limp black missile flew out of +his talking hands. + +—And there’s your Latin quarter hat, he said. + +Stephen picked it up and put it on. Haines called to them from the +doorway: + +—Are you coming, you fellows? + +—I’m ready, Buck Mulligan answered, going towards the door. Come out, +Kinch. You have eaten all we left, I suppose. Resigned he passed out +with grave words and gait, saying, wellnigh with sorrow: + +—And going forth he met Butterly. + +Stephen, taking his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed them out +and, as they went down the ladder, pulled to the slow iron door and +locked it. He put the huge key in his inner pocket. + +At the foot of the ladder Buck Mulligan asked: + +—Did you bring the key? + +—I have it, Stephen said, preceding them. + +He walked on. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy +bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses. + +—Down, sir! How dare you, sir! + +Haines asked: + +—Do you pay rent for this tower? + +—Twelve quid, Buck Mulligan said. + +—To the secretary of state for war, Stephen added over his shoulder. + +They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and said at last: + +—Rather bleak in wintertime, I should say. Martello you call it? + +—Billy Pitt had them built, Buck Mulligan said, when the French were on +the sea. But ours is the _omphalos_. + +—What is your idea of Hamlet? Haines asked Stephen. + +—No, no, Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. I’m not equal to Thomas Aquinas +and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. Wait till I +have a few pints in me first. + +He turned to Stephen, saying, as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his +primrose waistcoat: + +—You couldn’t manage it under three pints, Kinch, could you? + +—It has waited so long, Stephen said listlessly, it can wait longer. + +—You pique my curiosity, Haines said amiably. Is it some paradox? + +—Pooh! Buck Mulligan said. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes. +It’s quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet’s grandson is +Shakespeare’s grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own +father. + +—What? Haines said, beginning to point at Stephen. He himself? + +Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, bending in +loose laughter, said to Stephen’s ear: + +—O, shade of Kinch the elder! Japhet in search of a father! + +—We’re always tired in the morning, Stephen said to Haines. And it is +rather long to tell. + +Buck Mulligan, walking forward again, raised his hands. + +—The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, he said. + +—I mean to say, Haines explained to Stephen as they followed, this +tower and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. _That +beetles o’er his base into the sea,_ isn’t it? + +Buck Mulligan turned suddenly for an instant towards Stephen but did +not speak. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own image in +cheap dusty mourning between their gay attires. + +—It’s a wonderful tale, Haines said, bringing them to halt again. + +Eyes, pale as the sea the wind had freshened, paler, firm and prudent. +The seas’ ruler, he gazed southward over the bay, empty save for the +smokeplume of the mailboat vague on the bright skyline and a sail +tacking by the Muglins. + +—I read a theological interpretation of it somewhere, he said bemused. +The Father and the Son idea. The Son striving to be atoned with the +Father. + +Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. He looked +at them, his wellshaped mouth open happily, his eyes, from which he had +suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety. He moved +a doll’s head to and fro, the brims of his Panama hat quivering, and +began to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice: + +_—I’m the queerest young fellow that ever you heard. +My mother’s a jew, my father’s a bird. +With Joseph the joiner I cannot agree. +So here’s to disciples and Calvary._ + +He held up a forefinger of warning. + +_—If anyone thinks that I amn’t divine +He’ll get no free drinks when I’m making the wine +But have to drink water and wish it were plain +That I make when the wine becomes water again._ + +He tugged swiftly at Stephen’s ashplant in farewell and, running +forward to a brow of the cliff, fluttered his hands at his sides like +fins or wings of one about to rise in the air, and chanted: + +_—Goodbye, now, goodbye! Write down all I said +And tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rose from the dead. +What’s bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly +And Olivet’s breezy... Goodbye, now, goodbye!_ + +He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole, fluttering his +winglike hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury’s hat quivering in the fresh +wind that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries. + +Haines, who had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and +said: + +—We oughtn’t to laugh, I suppose. He’s rather blasphemous. I’m not a +believer myself, that is to say. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of +it somehow, doesn’t it? What did he call it? Joseph the Joiner? + +—The ballad of joking Jesus, Stephen answered. + +—O, Haines said, you have heard it before? + +—Three times a day, after meals, Stephen said drily. + +—You’re not a believer, are you? Haines asked. I mean, a believer in +the narrow sense of the word. Creation from nothing and miracles and a +personal God. + +—There’s only one sense of the word, it seems to me, Stephen said. + +Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a +green stone. He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it. + +—Thank you, Stephen said, taking a cigarette. + +Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his +sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang +it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk +towards Stephen in the shell of his hands. + +—Yes, of course, he said, as they went on again. Either you believe or +you don’t, isn’t it? Personally I couldn’t stomach that idea of a +personal God. You don’t stand for that, I suppose? + +—You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible +example of free thought. + +He walked on, waiting to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant by his +side. Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels. +My familiar, after me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen! A wavering line +along the path. They will walk on it tonight, coming here in the dark. +He wants that key. It is mine. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt +bread. Give him the key too. All. He will ask for it. That was in his +eyes. + +—After all, Haines began... + +Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him was +not all unkind. + +—After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your +own master, it seems to me. + +—I am a servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an +Italian. + +—Italian? Haines said. + +A crazy queen, old and jealous. Kneel down before me. + +—And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs. + +—Italian? Haines said again. What do you mean? + +—The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and +the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church. + +Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he +spoke. + +—I can quite understand that, he said calmly. An Irishman must think +like that, I daresay. We feel in England that we have treated you +rather unfairly. It seems history is to blame. + +The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen’s memory the triumph of +their brazen bells: _et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam +ecclesiam:_ the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own +rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars. Symbol of the apostles in the mass +for pope Marcellus, the voices blended, singing alone loud in +affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church +militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs. A horde of heresies +fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of whom +Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the +consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, and Valentine, spurning +Christ’s terrene body, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who +held that the Father was Himself His own Son. Words Mulligan had spoken +a moment since in mockery to the stranger. Idle mockery. The void +awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a menace, a disarming and a +worsting from those embattled angels of the church, Michael’s host, who +defend her ever in the hour of conflict with their lances and their +shields. + +Hear, hear! Prolonged applause. _Zut! Nom de Dieu!_ + +—Of course I’m a Britisher, Haines’s voice said, and I feel as one. I +don’t want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either. +That’s our national problem, I’m afraid, just now. + +Two men stood at the verge of the cliff, watching: businessman, +boatman. + +—She’s making for Bullock harbour. + +The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain. + +—There’s five fathoms out there, he said. It’ll be swept up that way +when the tide comes in about one. It’s nine days today. + +The man that was drowned. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting +for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face, +saltwhite. Here I am. + +They followed the winding path down to the creek. Buck Mulligan stood +on a stone, in shirtsleeves, his unclipped tie rippling over his +shoulder. A young man clinging to a spur of rock near him, moved slowly +frogwise his green legs in the deep jelly of the water. + +—Is the brother with you, Malachi? + +—Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons. + +—Still there? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young +thing down there. Photo girl he calls her. + +—Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure. + +Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots. An elderly man shot up near +the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones, +water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair, water +rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black +sagging loincloth. + +Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past and, glancing at Haines +and Stephen, crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and +lips and breastbone. + +—Seymour’s back in town, the young man said, grasping again his spur of +rock. Chucked medicine and going in for the army. + +—Ah, go to God! Buck Mulligan said. + +—Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily? + +—Yes. + +—Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with +money. + +—Is she up the pole? + +—Better ask Seymour that. + +—Seymour a bleeding officer! Buck Mulligan said. + +He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up, saying +tritely: + +—Redheaded women buck like goats. + +He broke off in alarm, feeling his side under his flapping shirt. + +—My twelfth rib is gone, he cried. I’m the _Übermensch._ Toothless +Kinch and I, the supermen. + +He struggled out of his shirt and flung it behind him to where his +clothes lay. + +—Are you going in here, Malachi? + +—Yes. Make room in the bed. + +The young man shoved himself backward through the water and reached the +middle of the creek in two long clean strokes. Haines sat down on a +stone, smoking. + +—Are you not coming in? Buck Mulligan asked. + +—Later on, Haines said. Not on my breakfast. + +Stephen turned away. + +—I’m going, Mulligan, he said. + +—Give us that key, Kinch, Buck Mulligan said, to keep my chemise flat. + +Stephen handed him the key. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped +clothes. + +—And twopence, he said, for a pint. Throw it there. + +Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. Dressing, undressing. Buck +Mulligan erect, with joined hands before him, said solemnly: + +—He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord. Thus spake +Zarathustra. + +His plump body plunged. + +—We’ll see you again, Haines said, turning as Stephen walked up the +path and smiling at wild Irish. + +Horn of a bull, hoof of a horse, smile of a Saxon. + +—The Ship, Buck Mulligan cried. Half twelve. + +—Good, Stephen said. + +He walked along the upwardcurving path. + + Liliata rutilantium. + Turma circumdet. + Iubilantium te virginum. + +The priest’s grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will +not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go. + +A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning +the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a +seal’s, far out on the water, round. + +Usurper. + + +[ 2 ] + +—You, Cochrane, what city sent for him? + +—Tarentum, sir. + +—Very good. Well? + +—There was a battle, sir. + +—Very good. Where? + +The boy’s blank face asked the blank window. + +Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not as +memory fabled it. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake’s wings +of excess. I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling +masonry, and time one livid final flame. What’s left us then? + +—I forget the place, sir. 279 B. C. + +—Asculum, Stephen said, glancing at the name and date in the +gorescarred book. + +—Yes, sir. And he said: _Another victory like that and we are done +for._ + +That phrase the world had remembered. A dull ease of the mind. From a +hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, +leaned upon his spear. Any general to any officers. They lend ear. + +—You, Armstrong, Stephen said. What was the end of Pyrrhus? + +—End of Pyrrhus, sir? + +—I know, sir. Ask me, sir, Comyn said. + +—Wait. You, Armstrong. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus? + +A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong’s satchel. He curled them +between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly. Crumbs adhered +to the tissue of his lips. A sweetened boy’s breath. Welloff people, +proud that their eldest son was in the navy. Vico Road, Dalkey. + +—Pyrrhus, sir? Pyrrhus, a pier. + +All laughed. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Armstrong looked round +at his classmates, silly glee in profile. In a moment they will laugh +more loudly, aware of my lack of rule and of the fees their papas pay. + +—Tell me now, Stephen said, poking the boy’s shoulder with the book, +what is a pier. + +—A pier, sir, Armstrong said. A thing out in the water. A kind of a +bridge. Kingstown pier, sir. + +Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning. Two in the back bench +whispered. Yes. They knew: had never learned nor ever been innocent. +All. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Their +likes: their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets +tittering in the struggle. + +—Kingstown pier, Stephen said. Yes, a disappointed bridge. + +The words troubled their gaze. + +—How, sir? Comyn asked. A bridge is across a river. + +For Haines’s chapbook. No-one here to hear. Tonight deftly amid wild +drink and talk, to pierce the polished mail of his mind. What then? A +jester at the court of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a +clement master’s praise. Why had they chosen all that part? Not wholly +for the smooth caress. For them too history was a tale like any other +too often heard, their land a pawnshop. + +Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam’s hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not +been knifed to death. They are not to be thought away. Time has branded +them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite +possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing +that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass? +Weave, weaver of the wind. + +—Tell us a story, sir. + +—O, do, sir. A ghoststory. + +—Where do you begin in this? Stephen asked, opening another book. + +—_Weep no more,_ Comyn said. + +—Go on then, Talbot. + +—And the story, sir? + +—After, Stephen said. Go on, Talbot. + +A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the breastwork +of his satchel. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the text: + +_—Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more +For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, +Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor..._ + +It must be a movement then, an actuality of the possible as possible. +Aristotle’s phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated +out into the studious silence of the library of Saint Genevieve where +he had read, sheltered from the sin of Paris, night by night. By his +elbow a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy. Fed and feeding +brains about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with faintly beating +feelers: and in my mind’s darkness a sloth of the underworld, +reluctant, shy of brightness, shifting her dragon scaly folds. Thought +is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness. The soul is in a manner +all that is: the soul is the form of forms. Tranquility sudden, vast, +candescent: form of forms. + +Talbot repeated: + +_—Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, + +Through the dear might..._ + +—Turn over, Stephen said quietly. I don’t see anything. + +—What, sir? Talbot asked simply, bending forward. + +His hand turned the page over. He leaned back and went on again, having +just remembered. Of him that walked the waves. Here also over these +craven hearts his shadow lies and on the scoffer’s heart and lips and +on mine. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a coin of the +tribute. To Caesar what is Caesar’s, to God what is God’s. A long look +from dark eyes, a riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the +church’s looms. Ay. + + Riddle me, riddle me, randy ro. + My father gave me seeds to sow. + +Talbot slid his closed book into his satchel. + +—Have I heard all? Stephen asked. + +—Yes, sir. Hockey at ten, sir. + +—Half day, sir. Thursday. + +—Who can answer a riddle? Stephen asked. + +They bundled their books away, pencils clacking, pages rustling. +Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels, all +gabbling gaily: + +—A riddle, sir? Ask me, sir. + +—O, ask me, sir. + +—A hard one, sir. + +—This is the riddle, Stephen said: + + The cock crew, + The sky was blue: + The bells in heaven + Were striking eleven. + ’Tis time for this poor soul + To go to heaven. + +What is that? + +—What, sir? + +—Again, sir. We didn’t hear. + +Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. After a silence +Cochrane said: + +—What is it, sir? We give it up. + +Stephen, his throat itching, answered: + +—The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush. + +He stood up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries +echoed dismay. + +A stick struck the door and a voice in the corridor called: + +—Hockey! + +They broke asunder, sidling out of their benches, leaping them. Quickly +they were gone and from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and +clamour of their boots and tongues. + +Sargent who alone had lingered came forward slowly, showing an open +copybook. His tangled hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness +and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading. On his +cheek, dull and bloodless, a soft stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent +and damp as a snail’s bed. + +He held out his copybook. The word _Sums_ was written on the headline. +Beneath were sloping figures and at the foot a crooked signature with +blind loops and a blot. Cyril Sargent: his name and seal. + +—Mr Deasy told me to write them out all again, he said, and show them +to you, sir. + +Stephen touched the edges of the book. Futility. + +—Do you understand how to do them now? he asked. + +—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. Mr Deasy said I was to +copy them off the board, sir. + +—Can you do them yourself? Stephen asked. + +—No, sir. + +Ugly and futile: lean neck and tangled hair and a stain of ink, a +snail’s bed. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in +her heart. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him +underfoot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery +blood drained from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in +life? His mother’s prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal +bestrode. She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in +the fire, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. She had saved him from +being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been. A poor +soul gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red +reek of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the +earth, listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped. + +Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem. He proves by +algebra that Shakespeare’s ghost is Hamlet’s grandfather. Sargent +peered askance through his slanted glasses. Hockeysticks rattled in the +lumberroom: the hollow knock of a ball and calls from the field. + +Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the mummery of +their letters, wearing quaint caps of squares and cubes. Give hands, +traverse, bow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the Moors. Gone too from +the world, Averroes and Moses Maimonides, dark men in mien and +movement, flashing in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the +world, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not +comprehend. + +—Do you understand now? Can you work the second for yourself? + +—Yes, sir. + +In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data. Waiting always for a +word of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a faint +hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. _Amor matris:_ subjective +and objective genitive. With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had +fed him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands. + +Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. My +childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or +lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. Secrets, silent, stony +sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their +tyranny: tyrants, willing to be dethroned. + +The sum was done. + +—It is very simple, Stephen said as he stood up. + +—Yes, sir. Thanks, Sargent answered. + +He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper and carried his +copybook back to his bench. + +—You had better get your stick and go out to the others, Stephen said +as he followed towards the door the boy’s graceless form. + +—Yes, sir. + +In the corridor his name was heard, called from the playfield. + +—Sargent! + +—Run on, Stephen said. Mr Deasy is calling you. + +He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy +field where sharp voices were in strife. They were sorted in teams and +Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet. +When he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to +him. He turned his angry white moustache. + +—What is it now? he cried continually without listening. + +—Cochrane and Halliday are on the same side, sir, Stephen said. + +—Will you wait in my study for a moment, Mr Deasy said, till I restore +order here. + +And as he stepped fussily back across the field his old man’s voice +cried sternly: + +—What is the matter? What is it now? + +Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their many forms +closed round him, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his +illdyed head. + +Stale smoky air hung in the study with the smell of drab abraded +leather of its chairs. As on the first day he bargained with me here. +As it was in the beginning, is now. On the sideboard the tray of Stuart +coins, base treasure of a bog: and ever shall be. And snug in their +spooncase of purple plush, faded, the twelve apostles having preached +to all the gentiles: world without end. + +A hasty step over the stone porch and in the corridor. Blowing out his +rare moustache Mr Deasy halted at the table. + +—First, our little financial settlement, he said. + +He brought out of his coat a pocketbook bound by a leather thong. It +slapped open and he took from it two notes, one of joined halves, and +laid them carefully on the table. + +—Two, he said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. + +And now his strongroom for the gold. Stephen’s embarrassed hand moved +over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money +cowries and leopard shells: and this, whorled as an emir’s turban, and +this, the scallop of saint James. An old pilgrim’s hoard, dead +treasure, hollow shells. + +A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the soft pile of the tablecloth. + +—Three, Mr Deasy said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand. +These are handy things to have. See. This is for sovereigns. This is +for shillings. Sixpences, halfcrowns. And here crowns. See. + +He shot from it two crowns and two shillings. + +—Three twelve, he said. I think you’ll find that’s right. + +—Thank you, sir, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy +haste and putting it all in a pocket of his trousers. + +—No thanks at all, Mr Deasy said. You have earned it. + +Stephen’s hand, free again, went back to the hollow shells. Symbols too +of beauty and of power. A lump in my pocket: symbols soiled by greed +and misery. + +—Don’t carry it like that, Mr Deasy said. You’ll pull it out somewhere +and lose it. You just buy one of these machines. You’ll find them very +handy. + +Answer something. + +—Mine would be often empty, Stephen said. + +The same room and hour, the same wisdom: and I the same. Three times +now. Three nooses round me here. Well? I can break them in this instant +if I will. + +—Because you don’t save, Mr Deasy said, pointing his finger. You don’t +know yet what money is. Money is power. When you have lived as long as +I have. I know, I know. If youth but knew. But what does Shakespeare +say? _Put but money in thy purse._ + +—Iago, Stephen murmured. + +He lifted his gaze from the idle shells to the old man’s stare. + +—He knew what money was, Mr Deasy said. He made money. A poet, yes, but +an Englishman too. Do you know what is the pride of the English? Do you +know what is the proudest word you will ever hear from an Englishman’s +mouth? + +The seas’ ruler. His seacold eyes looked on the empty bay: it seems +history is to blame: on me and on my words, unhating. + +—That on his empire, Stephen said, the sun never sets. + +—Ba! Mr Deasy cried. That’s not English. A French Celt said that. He +tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail. + +—I will tell you, he said solemnly, what is his proudest boast. _I paid +my way._ + +Good man, good man. + +_—I paid my way. I never borrowed a shilling in my life._ Can you feel +that? _I owe nothing._ Can you? + +Mulligan, nine pounds, three pairs of socks, one pair brogues, ties. +Curran, ten guineas. McCann, one guinea. Fred Ryan, two shillings. +Temple, two lunches. Russell, one guinea, Cousins, ten shillings, Bob +Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs MacKernan, five +weeks’ board. The lump I have is useless. + +—For the moment, no, Stephen answered. + +Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting back his savingsbox. + +—I knew you couldn’t, he said joyously. But one day you must feel it. +We are a generous people but we must also be just. + +—I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy. + +Mr Deasy stared sternly for some moments over the mantelpiece at the +shapely bulk of a man in tartan fillibegs: Albert Edward, prince of +Wales. + +—You think me an old fogey and an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. +I saw three generations since O’Connell’s time. I remember the famine +in ’46. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the +union twenty years before O’Connell did or before the prelates of your +communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. + +Glorious, pious and immortal memory. The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the +splendid behung with corpses of papishes. Hoarse, masked and armed, the +planters’ covenant. The black north and true blue bible. Croppies lie +down. + +Stephen sketched a brief gesture. + +—I have rebel blood in me too, Mr Deasy said. On the spindle side. But +I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. We are +all Irish, all kings’ sons. + +—Alas, Stephen said. + +—_Per vias rectas_, Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. He voted for +it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin from the Ards of Down to +do so. + + Lal the ral the ra + The rocky road to Dublin. + +A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. Soft day, sir John! +Soft day, your honour!... Day!... Day!... Two topboots jog dangling on +to Dublin. Lal the ral the ra. Lal the ral the raddy. + +—That reminds me, Mr Deasy said. You can do me a favour, Mr Dedalus, +with some of your literary friends. I have a letter here for the press. +Sit down a moment. I have just to copy the end. + +He went to the desk near the window, pulled in his chair twice and read +off some words from the sheet on the drum of his typewriter. + +—Sit down. Excuse me, he said over his shoulder, _the dictates of +common sense._ Just a moment. + +He peered from under his shaggy brows at the manuscript by his elbow +and, muttering, began to prod the stiff buttons of the keyboard slowly, +sometimes blowing as he screwed up the drum to erase an error. + +Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the princely presence. Framed +around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage, their meek +heads poised in air: lord Hastings’ _Repulse_, the duke of +Westminster’s _Shotover_, the duke of Beaufort’s _Ceylon_, _prix de +Paris_, 1866. Elfin riders sat them, watchful of a sign. He saw their +speeds, backing king’s colours, and shouted with the shouts of vanished +crowds. + +—Full stop, Mr Deasy bade his keys. _But prompt ventilation of this +allimportant question..._ + +Where Cranly led me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the +mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek +of the canteen, over the motley slush. Even money _Fair Rebel._ Ten to +one the field. Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the hoofs, +the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman, a butcher’s +dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. + +Shouts rang shrill from the boys’ playfield and a whirring whistle. + +Again: a goal. I am among them, among their battling bodies in a +medley, the joust of life. You mean that knockkneed mother’s darling +who seems to be slightly crawsick? Jousts. Time shocked rebounds, shock +by shock. Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the frozen deathspew of +the slain, a shout of spearspikes baited with men’s bloodied guts. + +—Now then, Mr Deasy said, rising. + +He came to the table, pinning together his sheets. Stephen stood up. + +—I have put the matter into a nutshell, Mr Deasy said. It’s about the +foot and mouth disease. Just look through it. There can be no two +opinions on the matter. + +May I trespass on your valuable space. That doctrine of _laissez faire_ +which so often in our history. Our cattle trade. The way of all our old +industries. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme. +European conflagration. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the +channel. The pluterperfect imperturbability of the department of +agriculture. Pardoned a classical allusion. Cassandra. By a woman who +was no better than she should be. To come to the point at issue. + +—I don’t mince words, do I? Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. + +Foot and mouth disease. Known as Koch’s preparation. Serum and virus. +Percentage of salted horses. Rinderpest. Emperor’s horses at Mürzsteg, +lower Austria. Veterinary surgeons. Mr Henry Blackwood Price. Courteous +offer a fair trial. Dictates of common sense. Allimportant question. In +every sense of the word take the bull by the horns. Thanking you for +the hospitality of your columns. + +—I want that to be printed and read, Mr Deasy said. You will see at the +next outbreak they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. And it can be +cured. It is cured. My cousin, Blackwood Price, writes to me it is +regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there. They +offer to come over here. I am trying to work up influence with the +department. Now I’m going to try publicity. I am surrounded by +difficulties, by... intrigues by... backstairs influence by... + +He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke. + +—Mark my words, Mr Dedalus, he said. England is in the hands of the +jews. In all the highest places: her finance, her press. And they are +the signs of a nation’s decay. Wherever they gather they eat up the +nation’s vital strength. I have seen it coming these years. As sure as +we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of +destruction. Old England is dying. + +He stepped swiftly off, his eyes coming to blue life as they passed a +broad sunbeam. He faced about and back again. + +—Dying, he said again, if not dead by now. + + The harlot’s cry from street to street + Shall weave old England’s windingsheet. + +His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which +he halted. + +—A merchant, Stephen said, is one who buys cheap and sells dear, jew or +gentile, is he not? + +—They sinned against the light, Mr Deasy said gravely. And you can see +the darkness in their eyes. And that is why they are wanderers on the +earth to this day. + +On the steps of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting +prices on their gemmed fingers. Gabble of geese. They swarmed loud, +uncouth about the temple, their heads thickplotting under maladroit +silk hats. Not theirs: these clothes, this speech, these gestures. +Their full slow eyes belied the words, the gestures eager and +unoffending, but knew the rancours massed about them and knew their +zeal was vain. Vain patience to heap and hoard. Time surely would +scatter all. A hoard heaped by the roadside: plundered and passing on. +Their eyes knew their years of wandering and, patient, knew the +dishonours of their flesh. + +—Who has not? Stephen said. + +—What do you mean? Mr Deasy asked. + +He came forward a pace and stood by the table. His underjaw fell +sideways open uncertainly. Is this old wisdom? He waits to hear from +me. + +—History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake. + +From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle: goal. +What if that nightmare gave you a back kick? + +—The ways of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy said. All human +history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God. + +Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying: + +—That is God. + +Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee! + +—What? Mr Deasy asked. + +—A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. + +Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his nose tweaked +between his fingers. Looking up again he set them free. + +—I am happier than you are, he said. We have committed many errors and +many sins. A woman brought sin into the world. For a woman who was no +better than she should be, Helen, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten +years the Greeks made war on Troy. A faithless wife first brought the +strangers to our shore here, MacMurrough’s wife and her leman, +O’Rourke, prince of Breffni. A woman too brought Parnell low. Many +errors, many failures but not the one sin. I am a struggler now at the +end of my days. But I will fight for the right till the end. + + For Ulster will fight + And Ulster will be right. + +Stephen raised the sheets in his hand. + +—Well, sir, he began. + +—I foresee, Mr Deasy said, that you will not remain here very long at +this work. You were not born to be a teacher, I think. Perhaps I am +wrong. + +—A learner rather, Stephen said. + +And here what will you learn more? + +Mr Deasy shook his head. + +—Who knows? he said. To learn one must be humble. But life is the great +teacher. + +Stephen rustled the sheets again. + +—As regards these, he began. + +—Yes, Mr Deasy said. You have two copies there. If you can have them +published at once. + +_ Telegraph. Irish Homestead._ + +—I will try, Stephen said, and let you know tomorrow. I know two +editors slightly. + +—That will do, Mr Deasy said briskly. I wrote last night to Mr Field, +M.P. There is a meeting of the cattletraders’ association today at the +City Arms hotel. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. You +see if you can get it into your two papers. What are they? + +_—The Evening Telegraph..._ + +—That will do, Mr Deasy said. There is no time to lose. Now I have to +answer that letter from my cousin. + +—Good morning, sir, Stephen said, putting the sheets in his pocket. +Thank you. + +—Not at all, Mr Deasy said as he searched the papers on his desk. I +like to break a lance with you, old as I am. + +—Good morning, sir, Stephen said again, bowing to his bent back. + +He went out by the open porch and down the gravel path under the trees, +hearing the cries of voices and crack of sticks from the playfield. The +lions couchant on the pillars as he passed out through the gate: +toothless terrors. Still I will help him in his fight. Mulligan will +dub me a new name: the bullockbefriending bard. + +—Mr Dedalus! + +Running after me. No more letters, I hope. + +—Just one moment. + +—Yes, sir, Stephen said, turning back at the gate. + +Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath. + +—I just wanted to say, he said. Ireland, they say, has the honour of +being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Do you know +that? No. And do you know why? + +He frowned sternly on the bright air. + +—Why, sir? Stephen asked, beginning to smile. + +—Because she never let them in, Mr Deasy said solemnly. + +A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a +rattling chain of phlegm. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, +his lifted arms waving to the air. + +—She never let them in, he cried again through his laughter as he +stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. That’s why. + +On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung +spangles, dancing coins. + + +[ 3 ] + +Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought +through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn +and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, +rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. +Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By +knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a +millionaire, _maestro di color che sanno_. Limit of the diaphane in. +Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through +it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see. + +Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and +shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a +time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. +Five, six: the _nacheinander_. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable +modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a +cliff that beetles o’er his base, fell through the _nebeneinander_ +ineluctably! I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at +my side. Tap with it: they do. My two feet in his boots are at the ends +of his legs, _nebeneinander_. Sounds solid: made by the mallet of _Los +Demiurgos_. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, +crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a’. + + Won’t you come to Sandymount, + Madeline the mare? + +Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. A catalectic tetrameter of iambs +marching. No, agallop: _deline the mare_. + +Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I +open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. _Basta!_ I will see if I +can see. + +See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world +without end. + +They came down the steps from Leahy’s terrace prudently, +_Frauenzimmer_: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed +feet sinking in the silted sand. Like me, like Algy, coming down to our +mighty mother. Number one swung lourdily her midwife’s bag, the other’s +gamp poked in the beach. From the liberties, out for the day. Mrs +Florence MacCabe, relict of the late Patk MacCabe, deeply lamented, of +Bride Street. One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. +Creation from nothing. What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a +trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all link back, +strandentwining cable of all flesh. That is why mystic monks. Will you +be as gods? Gaze in your _omphalos_. Hello. Kinch here. Put me on to +Edenville. Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one. + +Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. She had no navel. +Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum, no, +whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to +everlasting. Womb of sin. + +Wombed in sin darkness I was too, made not begotten. By them, the man +with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath. +They clasped and sundered, did the coupler’s will. From before the ages +He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. A _lex eterna_ stays +about Him. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are +consubstantial? Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Warring +his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. Illstarred +heresiarch! In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: _euthanasia_. +With beaded mitre and with crozier, stalled upon his throne, widower of +a widowed see, with upstiffed _omophorion_, with clotted hinderparts. + +Airs romped round him, nipping and eager airs. They are coming, waves. +The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the steeds of +Mananaan. + +I mustn’t forget his letter for the press. And after? The Ship, half +twelve. By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile. +Yes, I must. + +His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to aunt Sara’s or not? My +consubstantial father’s voice. Did you see anything of your artist +brother Stephen lately? No? Sure he’s not down in Strasburg terrace +with his aunt Sally? Couldn’t he fly a bit higher than that, eh? And +and and and tell us, Stephen, how is uncle Si? O, weeping God, the +things I married into! De boys up in de hayloft. The drunken little +costdrawer and his brother, the cornet player. Highly respectable +gondoliers! And skeweyed Walter sirring his father, no less! Sir. Yes, +sir. No, sir. Jesus wept: and no wonder, by Christ! + +I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage: and wait. They take +me for a dun, peer out from a coign of vantage. + +—It’s Stephen, sir. + +—Let him in. Let Stephen in. + +A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me. + +—We thought you were someone else. + +In his broad bed nuncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over +the hillock of his knees a sturdy forearm. Cleanchested. He has washed +the upper moiety. + +—Morrow, nephew. + +He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the +eyes of master Goff and master Shapland Tandy, filing consents and +common searches and a writ of _Duces Tecum_. A bogoak frame over his +bald head: Wilde’s _Requiescat_. The drone of his misleading whistle +brings Walter back. + +—Yes, sir? + +—Malt for Richie and Stephen, tell mother. Where is she? + +—Bathing Crissie, sir. + +Papa’s little bedpal. Lump of love. + +—No, uncle Richie... + +—Call me Richie. Damn your lithia water. It lowers. Whusky! + +—Uncle Richie, really... + +—Sit down or by the law Harry I’ll knock you down. + +Walter squints vainly for a chair. + +—He has nothing to sit down on, sir. + +—He has nowhere to put it, you mug. Bring in our chippendale chair. +Would you like a bite of something? None of your damned lawdeedaw airs +here. The rich of a rasher fried with a herring? Sure? So much the +better. We have nothing in the house but backache pills. + +_All’erta!_ + +He drones bars of Ferrando’s _aria di sortita_. The grandest number, +Stephen, in the whole opera. Listen. + +His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded, with rushes of the +air, his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees. + +This wind is sweeter. + +Houses of decay, mine, his and all. You told the Clongowes gentry you +had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Come out of +them, Stephen. Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant bay of Marsh’s +library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. For +whom? The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close. A hater of his +kind ran from them to the wood of madness, his mane foaming in the +moon, his eyeballs stars. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. The oval equine +faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Abbas father, +furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? Paff! _Descende, +calve, ut ne nimium decalveris_. A garland of grey hair on his +comminated head see him me clambering down to the footpace +(_descende!_), clutching a monstrance, basiliskeyed. Get down, +baldpoll! A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the +altar’s horns, the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their +albs, tonsured and oiled and gelded, fat with the fat of kidneys of +wheat. + +And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating +it. Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx. +Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own +cheek. Dringdring! Down, up, forward, back. Dan Occam thought of that, +invincible doctor. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled +his brain. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his +second bell the first bell in the transept (he is lifting his) and, +rising, heard (now I am lifting) their two bells (he is kneeling) twang +in diphthong. + +Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint. Isle of saints. You were +awfully holy, weren’t you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you +might not have a red nose. You prayed to the devil in Serpentine avenue +that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from +the wet street. _O si, certo!_ Sell your soul for that, do, dyed rags +pinned round a squaw. More tell me, more still! On the top of the Howth +tram alone crying to the rain: _Naked women! Naked women!_ What about +that, eh? + +What about what? What else were they invented for? + +Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? I was young. +You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause +earnestly, striking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one +saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for +titles. Have you read his F? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes, but W is +wonderful. O yes, W. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval +leaves, deeply deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great +libraries of the world, including Alexandria? Someone was to read them +there after a few thousand years, a mahamanvantara. Pico della +Mirandola like. Ay, very like a whale. When one reads these strange +pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who +once... + +The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again a +damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the +unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the shipworm, lost Armada. +Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing +upward sewage breath, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a +midden of man’s ashes. He coasted them, walking warily. A porterbottle +stood up, stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough. A sentinel: +isle of dreadful thirst. Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze +of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the +higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Ringsend: wigwams +of brown steersmen and master mariners. Human shells. + +He halted. I have passed the way to aunt Sara’s. Am I not going there? +Seems not. No-one about. He turned northeast and crossed the firmer +sand towards the Pigeonhouse. + +_—Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position?_ + +_—C’est le pigeon, Joseph._ + +Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me in the bar +MacMahon. Son of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris. My father’s a +bird, he lapped the sweet _lait chaud_ with pink young tongue, plump +bunny’s face. Lap, _lapin._ He hopes to win in the _gros lots_. About +the nature of women he read in Michelet. But he must send me _La Vie de +Jésus_ by M. Léo Taxil. Lent it to his friend. + +_—C’est tordant, vous savez. Moi, je suis socialiste. Je ne crois pas +en l’existence de Dieu. Faut pas le dire à mon père._ + +_—Il croit?_ + +_—Mon père, oui._ + +_Schluss_. He laps. + +My Latin quarter hat. God, we simply must dress the character. I want +puce gloves. You were a student, weren’t you? Of what in the other +devil’s name? Paysayenn. P. C. N., you know: _physiques, chimiques et +naturelles_. Aha. Eating your groatsworth of _mou en civet_, fleshpots +of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural +tone: when I was in Paris; _boul’ Mich’_, I used to. Yes, used to carry +punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder +somewhere. Justice. On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 +the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Other fellow did it: other me. +Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. _Lui, c’est moi_. You seem to have enjoyed +yourself. + +Proudly walking. Whom were you trying to walk like? Forget: a +dispossessed. With mother’s money order, eight shillings, the banging +door of the post office slammed in your face by the usher. Hunger +toothache. _Encore deux minutes_. Look clock. Must get. _Fermé_. Hired +dog! Shoot him to bloody bits with a bang shotgun, bits man spattered +walls all brass buttons. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. Not +hurt? O, that’s all right. Shake hands. See what I meant, see? O, +that’s all right. Shake a shake. O, that’s all only all right. + +You were going to do wonders, what? Missionary to Europe after fiery +Columbanus. Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven spilt +from their pintpots, loudlatinlaughing: _Euge! Euge!_ Pretending to +speak broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, +across the slimy pier at Newhaven. _Comment?_ Rich booty you brought +back; _Le Tutu_, five tattered numbers of _Pantalon Blanc et Culotte +Rouge_; a blue French telegram, curiosity to show: + +—Mother dying come home father. + +The aunt thinks you killed your mother. That’s why she won’t. + + Then here’s a health to Mulligan’s aunt + And I’ll tell you the reason why. + She always kept things decent in + The Hannigan famileye. + +His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sand furrows, along by +the boulders of the south wall. He stared at them proudly, piled stone +mammoth skulls. Gold light on sea, on sand, on boulders. The sun is +there, the slender trees, the lemon houses. + +Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets. Moist pith of +farls of bread, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the +air. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife, the +kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. In +Rodot’s Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering +with gold teeth _chaussons_ of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the +_pus_ of _flan bréton_. Faces of Paris men go by, their wellpleased +pleasers, curled conquistadores. + +Noon slumbers. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers +smeared with printer’s ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his +white. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. _Un demi +sétier!_ A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. She serves +me at his beck. _Il est irlandais. Hollandais? Non fromage. Deux +irlandais, nous, Irlande, vous savez ah, oui!_ She thought you wanted a +cheese _hollandais_. Your postprandial, do you know that word? +Postprandial. There was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer +fellow, used to call it his postprandial. Well: _slainte!_ Around the +slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. His +breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the green fairy’s fang +thrusting between his lips. Of Ireland, the Dalcassians, of hopes, +conspiracies, of Arthur Griffith now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of +men. To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes our common cause. You’re +your father’s son. I know the voice. His fustian shirt, +sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets. M. +Drumont, famous journalist, Drumont, know what he called queen +Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth. _Vieille ogresse_ with the +_dents jaunes_. Maud Gonne, beautiful woman, _La Patrie_, M. Millevoye, +Félix Faure, know how he died? Licentious men. The froeken, _bonne à +tout faire_, who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala. _Moi +faire_, she said, _Tous les messieurs_. Not this _Monsieur_, I said. +Most licentious custom. Bath a most private thing. I wouldn’t let my +brother, not even my own brother, most lascivious thing. Green eyes, I +see you. Fang, I feel. Lascivious people. + +The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. Loose +tobaccoshreds catch fire: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Raw +facebones under his peep of day boy’s hat. How the head centre got +away, authentic version. Got up as a young bride, man, veil, +orangeblossoms, drove out the road to Malahide. Did, faith. Of lost +leaders, the betrayed, wild escapes. Disguises, clutched at, gone, not +here. + +Spurned lover. I was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I tell +you. I’ll show you my likeness one day. I was, faith. Lover, for her +love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his sept, under +the walls of Clerkenwell and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl +them upward in the fog. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. In gay +Paree he hides, Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Making his +day’s stations, the dingy printingcase, his three taverns, the +Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d’Or, +damascened with flyblown faces of the gone. Loveless, landless, +wifeless. She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man, madame in +rue Gît-le-Cœur, canary and two buck lodgers. Peachy cheeks, a zebra +skirt, frisky as a young thing’s. Spurned and undespairing. Tell Pat +you saw me, won’t you? I wanted to get poor Pat a job one time. _Mon +fils_, soldier of France. I taught him to sing _The boys of Kilkenny +are stout roaring blades_. Know that old lay? I taught Patrice that. +Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow’s castle on the Nore. Goes like +this. _O, O_. He takes me, Napper Tandy, by the hand. + + O, O the boys of + Kilkenny... + +Weak wasting hand on mine. They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not he them. +Remembering thee, O Sion. + +He had come nearer the edge of the sea and wet sand slapped his boots. +The new air greeted him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of +seeds of brightness. Here, I am not walking out to the Kish lightship, +am I? He stood suddenly, his feet beginning to sink slowly in the +quaking soil. Turn back. + +Turning, he scanned the shore south, his feet sinking again slowly in +new sockets. The cold domed room of the tower waits. Through the +barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet +are sinking, creeping duskward over the dial floor. Blue dusk, +nightfall, deep blue night. In the darkness of the dome they wait, +their pushedback chairs, my obelisk valise, around a board of abandoned +platters. Who to clear it? He has the key. I will not sleep there when +this night comes. A shut door of a silent tower, entombing their blind +bodies, the panthersahib and his pointer. Call: no answer. He lifted +his feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. Take +all, keep all. My soul walks with me, form of forms. So in the moon’s +midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing +Elsinore’s tempting flood. + +The flood is following me. I can watch it flow past from here. Get back +then by the Poolbeg road to the strand there. He climbed over the sedge +and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock, resting his ashplant in a +grike. + +A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. Before him the +gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. _Un coche ensablé_ Louis Veuillot +called Gautier’s prose. These heavy sands are language tide and wind +have silted here. And these, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren +of weasel rats. Hide gold there. Try it. You have some. Sands and +stones. Heavy of the past. Sir Lout’s toys. Mind you don’t get one bang +on the ear. I’m the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well +boulders, bones for my steppingstones. Feefawfum. I zmellz de bloodz +odz an Iridzman. + +A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand. +Lord, is he going to attack me? Respect his liberty. You will not be +master of others or their slave. I have my stick. Sit tight. From +farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures, +two. The two maries. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. +Peekaboo. I see you. No, the dog. He is running back to them. Who? + +Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in quest of prey, their +bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. Dane vikings, +torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the +collar of gold. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, +spouting, hobbling in the shallows. Then from the starving cagework +city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers’ knives, +running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Famine, plague +and slaughters. Their blood is in me, their lusts my waves. I moved +among them on the frozen Liffey, that I, a changeling, among the +spluttering resin fires. I spoke to no-one: none to me. + +The dog’s bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back. Dog of my enemy. I +just simply stood pale, silent, bayed about. _Terribilia meditans_. A +primrose doublet, fortune’s knave, smiled on my fear. For that are you +pining, the bark of their applause? Pretenders: live their lives. The +Bruce’s brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, +York’s false scion, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a +day, and Lambert Simnel, with a tail of nans and sutlers, a scullion +crowned. All kings’ sons. Paradise of pretenders then and now. He saved +men from drowning and you shake at a cur’s yelping. But the courtiers +who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in their own house. House of... +We don’t want any of your medieval abstrusiosities. Would you do what +he did? A boat would be near, a lifebuoy. _Natürlich_, put there for +you. Would you or would you not? The man that was drowned nine days ago +off Maiden’s rock. They are waiting for him now. The truth, spit it +out. I would want to. I would try. I am not a strong swimmer. Water +cold soft. When I put my face into it in the basin at Clongowes. Can’t +see! Who’s behind me? Out quickly, quickly! Do you see the tide flowing +quickly in on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand quickly, +shellcocoacoloured? If I had land under my feet. I want his life still +to be his, mine to be mine. A drowning man. His human eyes scream to me +out of horror of his death. I... With him together down... I could not +save her. Waters: bitter death: lost. + +A woman and a man. I see her skirties. Pinned up, I bet. + +Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, trotting, sniffing on +all sides. Looking for something lost in a past life. Suddenly he made +off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a +lowskimming gull. The man’s shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. He +turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. On a +field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. At the lacefringe of +the tide he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears. His snout +lifted barked at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. They serpented +towards his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, +breaking, plashing, from far, from farther out, waves and waves. + +Cocklepickers. They waded a little way in the water and, stooping, +soused their bags and, lifting them again, waded out. The dog yelped +running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again +reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. Unheeded he kept by them +as they came towards the drier sand, a rag of wolf’s tongue redpanting +from his jaws. His speckled body ambled ahead of them and then loped +off at a calf’s gallop. The carcass lay on his path. He stopped, +sniffed, stalked round it, brother, nosing closer, went round it, +sniffling rapidly like a dog all over the dead dog’s bedraggled fell. +Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the ground, moves to one great goal. Ah, +poor dogsbody! Here lies poor dogsbody’s body. + +—Tatters! Out of that, you mongrel! + +The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless +kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, crouched in flight. He +slunk back in a curve. Doesn’t see me. Along by the edge of the mole he +lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and from under a cocked hindleg pissed +against it. He trotted forward and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed +quick short at an unsmelt rock. The simple pleasures of the poor. His +hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. +Something he buried there, his grandmother. He rooted in the sand, +dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the air, scraped up the sand +again with a fury of his claws, soon ceasing, a pard, a panther, got in +spousebreach, vulturing the dead. + +After he woke me last night same dream or was it? Wait. Open hallway. +Street of harlots. Remember. Haroun al Raschid. I am almosting it. That +man led me, spoke. I was not afraid. The melon he had he held against +my face. Smiled: creamfruit smell. That was the rule, said. In. Come. +Red carpet spread. You will see who. + +Shouldering their bags they trudged, the red Egyptians. His blued feet +out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, a dull brick muffler +strangling his unshaven neck. With woman steps she followed: the +ruffian and his strolling mort. Spoils slung at her back. Loose sand +and shellgrit crusted her bare feet. About her windraw face hair +trailed. Behind her lord, his helpmate, bing awast to Romeville. When +night hides her body’s flaws calling under her brown shawl from an +archway where dogs have mired. Her fancyman is treating two Royal +Dublins in O’Loughlin’s of Blackpitts. Buss her, wap in rogues’ rum +lingo, for, O, my dimber wapping dell! A shefiend’s whiteness under her +rancid rags. Fumbally’s lane that night: the tanyard smells. + + White thy fambles, red thy gan + And thy quarrons dainty is. + Couch a hogshead with me then. + In the darkmans clip and kiss. + +Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, _frate porcospino_. +Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. Call away let him: _thy quarrons +dainty is_. Language no whit worse than his. Monkwords, marybeads +jabber on their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their +pockets. + +Passing now. + +A side eye at my Hamlet hat. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I +am not. Across the sands of all the world, followed by the sun’s +flaming sword, to the west, trekking to evening lands. She trudges, +schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. A tide westering, +moondrawn, in her wake. Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not +mine, _oinopa ponton_, a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon. +In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise. Bridebed, +childbed, bed of death, ghostcandled. _Omnis caro ad te veniet_. He +comes, pale vampire, through storm his eyes, his bat sails bloodying +the sea, mouth to her mouth’s kiss. + +Here. Put a pin in that chap, will you? My tablets. Mouth to her kiss. +No. Must be two of em. Glue em well. Mouth to her mouth’s kiss. + +His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her moomb. +Oomb, allwombing tomb. His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: +ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring +wayawayawayawayaway. Paper. The banknotes, blast them. Old Deasy’s +letter. Here. Thanking you for the hospitality tear the blank end off. +Turning his back to the sun he bent over far to a table of rock and +scribbled words. That’s twice I forgot to take slips from the library +counter. + +His shadow lay over the rocks as he bent, ending. Why not endless till +the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind this light, darkness +shining in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. Me sits there +with his augur’s rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day beside a livid +sea, unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth +stars. I throw this ended shadow from me, manshape ineluctable, call it +back. Endless, would it be mine, form of my form? Who watches me here? +Who ever anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white +field. Somewhere to someone in your flutiest voice. The good bishop of +Cloyne took the veil of the temple out of his shovel hat: veil of space +with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Hold hard. Coloured on a +flat: yes, that’s right. Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, +flat I see, east, back. Ah, see now! Falls back suddenly, frozen in +stereoscope. Click does the trick. You find my words dark. Darkness is +in our souls do you not think? Flutier. Our souls, shamewounded by our +sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the +more. + +She trusts me, her hand gentle, the longlashed eyes. Now where the blue +hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality +of the ineluctable visuality. She, she, she. What she? The virgin at +Hodges Figgis’ window on Monday looking in for one of the alphabet +books you were going to write. Keen glance you gave her. Wrist through +the braided jesse of her sunshade. She lives in Leeson park with a +grief and kickshaws, a lady of letters. Talk that to someone else, +Stevie: a pickmeup. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders +and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Talk about apple +dumplings, _piuttosto_. Where are your wits? + +Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me +soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. +Sad too. Touch, touch me. + +He lay back at full stretch over the sharp rocks, cramming the +scribbled note and pencil into a pocket, his hat tilted down on his +eyes. That is Kevin Egan’s movement I made, nodding for his nap, +sabbath sleep. _Et vidit Deus. Et erant valde bona_. Alo! _Bonjour_. +Welcome as the flowers in May. Under its leaf he watched through +peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun. I am caught in this burning +scene. Pan’s hour, the faunal noon. Among gumheavy serpentplants, +milkoozing fruits, where on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. Pain is +far. + + And no more turn aside and brood. + +His gaze brooded on his broadtoed boots, a buck’s castoffs, +_nebeneinander_. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein +another’s foot had nested warm. The foot that beat the ground in +tripudium, foot I dislove. But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt’s +shoe went on you: girl I knew in Paris. _Tiens, quel petit pied!_ +Staunch friend, a brother soul: Wilde’s love that dare not speak its +name. His arm: Cranly’s arm. He now will leave me. And the blame? As I +am. As I am. All or not at all. + +In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering +greengoldenly lagoons of sand, rising, flowing. My ashplant will float +away. I shall wait. No, they will pass on, passing, chafing against the +low rocks, swirling, passing. Better get this job over quick. Listen: a +fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Vehement breath of +waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks. In cups of rocks it +slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. And, spent, its speech +ceases. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower +unfurling. + +Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and +sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in whispering water +swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. Day by day: night by night: +lifted, flooded and let fall. Lord, they are weary; and, whispered to, +they sigh. Saint Ambrose heard it, sigh of leaves and waves, waiting, +awaiting the fullness of their times, _diebus ac noctibus iniurias +patiens ingemiscit_. To no end gathered; vainly then released, +forthflowing, wending back: loom of the moon. Weary too in sight of +lovers, lascivious men, a naked woman shining in her courts, she draws +a toil of waters. + +Five fathoms out there. Full fathom five thy father lies. At one, he +said. Found drowned. High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a +loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. A corpse +rising saltwhite from the undertow, bobbing a pace a pace a porpoise +landward. There he is. Hook it quick. Pull. Sunk though he be beneath +the watery floor. We have him. Easy now. + +Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fat of a +spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly. God +becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed +mountain. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a +urinous offal from all dead. Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes +upward the stench of his green grave, his leprous nosehole snoring to +the sun. + +A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue. Seadeath, mildest of all deaths +known to man. Old Father Ocean. _Prix de Paris_: beware of imitations. +Just you give it a fair trial. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. + +Come. I thirst. Clouding over. No black clouds anywhere, are there? +Thunderstorm. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the intellect, +_Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum_. No. My cockle hat and staff and +hismy sandal shoon. Where? To evening lands. Evening will find itself. + +He took the hilt of his ashplant, lunging with it softly, dallying +still. Yes, evening will find itself in me, without me. All days make +their end. By the way next when is it Tuesday will be the longest day. +Of all the glad new year, mother, the rum tum tiddledy tum. Lawn +Tennyson, gentleman poet. _Già_. For the old hag with the yellow teeth. +And Monsieur Drumont, gentleman journalist. _Già_. My teeth are very +bad. Why, I wonder. Feel. That one is going too. Shells. Ought I go to +a dentist, I wonder, with that money? That one. This. Toothless Kinch, +the superman. Why is that, I wonder, or does it mean something perhaps? + +My handkerchief. He threw it. I remember. Did I not take it up? + +His hand groped vainly in his pockets. No, I didn’t. Better buy one. + +He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock, +carefully. For the rest let look who will. + +Behind. Perhaps there is someone. + +He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. Moving through the +air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the +crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship. + + +— II — + + +[ 4 ] + +Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. +He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, +liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods’ roes. Most of all he +liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of +faintly scented urine. + +Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly, righting +her breakfast things on the humpy tray. Gelid light and air were in the +kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Made him +feel a bit peckish. + +The coals were reddening. + +Another slice of bread and butter: three, four: right. She didn’t like +her plate full. Right. He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off +the hob and set it sideways on the fire. It sat there, dull and squat, +its spout stuck out. Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry. The cat walked +stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high. + +—Mkgnao! + +—O, there you are, Mr Bloom said, turning from the fire. + +The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the +table, mewing. Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Prr. Scratch +my head. Prr. + +Mr Bloom watched curiously, kindly the lithe black form. Clean to see: +the gloss of her sleek hide, the white button under the butt of her +tail, the green flashing eyes. He bent down to her, his hands on his +knees. + +—Milk for the pussens, he said. + +—Mrkgnao! the cat cried. + +They call them stupid. They understand what we say better than we +understand them. She understands all she wants to. Vindictive too. +Cruel. Her nature. Curious mice never squeal. Seem to like it. Wonder +what I look like to her. Height of a tower? No, she can jump me. + +—Afraid of the chickens she is, he said mockingly. Afraid of the +chookchooks. I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens. + +—Mrkrgnao! the cat said loudly. + +She blinked up out of her avid shameclosing eyes, mewing plaintively +and long, showing him her milkwhite teeth. He watched the dark eyeslits +narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones. Then he went to +the dresser, took the jug Hanlon’s milkman had just filled for him, +poured warmbubbled milk on a saucer and set it slowly on the floor. + +—Gurrhr! she cried, running to lap. + +He watched the bristles shining wirily in the weak light as she tipped +three times and licked lightly. Wonder is it true if you clip them they +can’t mouse after. Why? They shine in the dark, perhaps, the tips. Or +kind of feelers in the dark, perhaps. + +He listened to her licking lap. Ham and eggs, no. No good eggs with +this drouth. Want pure fresh water. Thursday: not a good day either for +a mutton kidney at Buckley’s. Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. +Better a pork kidney at Dlugacz’s. While the kettle is boiling. She +lapped slower, then licking the saucer clean. Why are their tongues so +rough? To lap better, all porous holes. Nothing she can eat? He glanced +round him. No. + +On quietly creaky boots he went up the staircase to the hall, paused by +the bedroom door. She might like something tasty. Thin bread and butter +she likes in the morning. Still perhaps: once in a way. + +He said softly in the bare hall: + +—I’m going round the corner. Be back in a minute. + +And when he had heard his voice say it he added: + +—You don’t want anything for breakfast? + +A sleepy soft grunt answered: + +—Mn. + +No. She didn’t want anything. He heard then a warm heavy sigh, softer, +as she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled. +Must get those settled really. Pity. All the way from Gibraltar. +Forgotten any little Spanish she knew. Wonder what her father gave for +it. Old style. Ah yes! of course. Bought it at the governor’s auction. +Got a short knock. Hard as nails at a bargain, old Tweedy. Yes, sir. At +Plevna that was. I rose from the ranks, sir, and I’m proud of it. Still +he had brains enough to make that corner in stamps. Now that was +farseeing. + +His hand took his hat from the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat +and his lost property office secondhand waterproof. Stamps: stickyback +pictures. Daresay lots of officers are in the swim too. Course they do. +The sweated legend in the crown of his hat told him mutely: Plasto’s +high grade ha. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. White +slip of paper. Quite safe. + +On the doorstep he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. Not there. +In the trousers I left off. Must get it. Potato I have. Creaky +wardrobe. No use disturbing her. She turned over sleepily that time. He +pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf +dropped gently over the threshold, a limp lid. Looked shut. All right +till I come back anyhow. + +He crossed to the bright side, avoiding the loose cellarflap of number +seventyfive. The sun was nearing the steeple of George’s church. Be a +warm day I fancy. Specially in these black clothes feel it more. Black +conducts, reflects, (refracts is it?), the heat. But I couldn’t go in +that light suit. Make a picnic of it. His eyelids sank quietly often as +he walked in happy warmth. Boland’s breadvan delivering with trays our +daily but she prefers yesterday’s loaves turnovers crisp crowns hot. +Makes you feel young. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at +dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day’s march on him. +Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically. Walk along a +strand, strange land, come to a city gate, sentry there, old ranker +too, old Tweedy’s big moustaches, leaning on a long kind of a spear. +Wander through awned streets. Turbaned faces going by. Dark caves of +carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking +a coiled pipe. Cries of sellers in the streets. Drink water scented +with fennel, sherbet. Dander along all day. Might meet a robber or two. +Well, meet him. Getting on to sundown. The shadows of the mosques among +the pillars: priest with a scroll rolled up. A shiver of the trees, +signal, the evening wind. I pass on. Fading gold sky. A mother watches +me from her doorway. She calls her children home in their dark +language. High wall: beyond strings twanged. Night sky, moon, violet, +colour of Molly’s new garters. Strings. Listen. A girl playing one of +those instruments what do you call them: dulcimers. I pass. + +Probably not a bit like it really. Kind of stuff you read: in the track +of the sun. Sunburst on the titlepage. He smiled, pleasing himself. +What Arthur Griffith said about the headpiece over the _Freeman_ +leader: a homerule sun rising up in the northwest from the laneway +behind the bank of Ireland. He prolonged his pleased smile. Ikey touch +that: homerule sun rising up in the northwest. + +He approached Larry O’Rourke’s. From the cellar grating floated up the +flabby gush of porter. Through the open doorway the bar squirted out +whiffs of ginger, teadust, biscuitmush. Good house, however: just the +end of the city traffic. For instance M’Auley’s down there: n. g. as +position. Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular +from the cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shot. + +Baldhead over the blind. Cute old codger. No use canvassing him for an +ad. Still he knows his own business best. There he is, sure enough, my +bold Larry, leaning against the sugarbin in his shirtsleeves watching +the aproned curate swab up with mop and bucket. Simon Dedalus takes him +off to a tee with his eyes screwed up. Do you know what I’m going to +tell you? What’s that, Mr O’Rourke? Do you know what? The Russians, +they’d only be an eight o’clock breakfast for the Japanese. + +Stop and say a word: about the funeral perhaps. Sad thing about poor +Dignam, Mr O’Rourke. + +Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the +doorway: + +—Good day, Mr O’Rourke. + +—Good day to you. + +—Lovely weather, sir. + +—’Tis all that. + +Where do they get the money? Coming up redheaded curates from the +county Leitrim, rinsing empties and old man in the cellar. Then, lo and +behold, they blossom out as Adam Findlaters or Dan Tallons. Then think +of the competition. General thirst. Good puzzle would be cross Dublin +without passing a pub. Save it they can’t. Off the drunks perhaps. Put +down three and carry five. What is that, a bob here and there, dribs +and drabs. On the wholesale orders perhaps. Doing a double shuffle with +the town travellers. Square it you with the boss and we’ll split the +job, see? + +How much would that tot to off the porter in the month? Say ten barrels +of stuff. Say he got ten per cent off. O more. Fifteen. He passed Saint +Joseph’s National school. Brats’ clamour. Windows open. Fresh air helps +memory. Or a lilt. Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee +doubleyou. Boys are they? Yes. Inishturk. Inishark. Inishboffin. At +their joggerfry. Mine. Slieve Bloom. + +He halted before Dlugacz’s window, staring at the hanks of sausages, +polonies, black and white. Fifteen multiplied by. The figures whitened +in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he let them fade. The shiny links, +packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze and he breathed in tranquilly the +lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs’ blood. + +A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the willowpatterned dish: the last. He +stood by the nextdoor girl at the counter. Would she buy it too, +calling the items from a slip in her hand? Chapped: washingsoda. And a +pound and a half of Denny’s sausages. His eyes rested on her vigorous +hips. Woods his name is. Wonder what he does. Wife is oldish. New +blood. No followers allowed. Strong pair of arms. Whacking a carpet on +the clothesline. She does whack it, by George. The way her crooked +skirt swings at each whack. + +The ferreteyed porkbutcher folded the sausages he had snipped off with +blotchy fingers, sausagepink. Sound meat there: like a stallfed heifer. + +He took a page up from the pile of cut sheets: the model farm at +Kinnereth on the lakeshore of Tiberias. Can become ideal winter +sanatorium. Moses Montefiore. I thought he was. Farmhouse, wall round +it, blurred cattle cropping. He held the page from him: interesting: +read it nearer, the title, the blurred cropping cattle, the page +rustling. A young white heifer. Those mornings in the cattlemarket, the +beasts lowing in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of dung, the +breeders in hobnailed boots trudging through the litter, slapping a +palm on a ripemeated hindquarter, there’s a prime one, unpeeled +switches in their hands. He held the page aslant patiently, bending his +senses and his will, his soft subject gaze at rest. The crooked skirt +swinging, whack by whack by whack. + +The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the pile, wrapped up her prime +sausages and made a red grimace. + +—Now, my miss, he said. + +She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out. + +—Thank you, my miss. And one shilling threepence change. For you, +please? + +Mr Bloom pointed quickly. To catch up and walk behind her if she went +slowly, behind her moving hams. Pleasant to see first thing in the +morning. Hurry up, damn it. Make hay while the sun shines. She stood +outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the right. He +sighed down his nose: they never understand. Sodachapped hands. Crusted +toenails too. Brown scapulars in tatters, defending her both ways. The +sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his breast. For +another: a constable off duty cuddling her in Eccles’ Lane. They like +them sizeable. Prime sausage. O please, Mr Policeman, I’m lost in the +wood. + +—Threepence, please. + +His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into a sidepocket. +Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers’ pocket and laid them +on the rubber prickles. They lay, were read quickly and quickly slid, +disc by disc, into the till. + +—Thank you, sir. Another time. + +A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. He withdrew his gaze +after an instant. No: better not: another time. + +—Good morning, he said, moving away. + +—Good morning, sir. + +No sign. Gone. What matter? + +He walked back along Dorset street, reading gravely. Agendath Netaim: +planters’ company. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish +government and plant with eucalyptus trees. Excellent for shade, fuel +and construction. Orangegroves and immense melonfields north of Jaffa. +You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with +olives, oranges, almonds or citrons. Olives cheaper: oranges need +artificial irrigation. Every year you get a sending of the crop. Your +name entered for life as owner in the book of the union. Can pay ten +down and the balance in yearly instalments. Bleibtreustrasse 34, +Berlin, W. 15. + +Nothing doing. Still an idea behind it. + +He looked at the cattle, blurred in silver heat. Silverpowdered +olivetrees. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Olives are packed in +jars, eh? I have a few left from Andrews. Molly spitting them out. +Knows the taste of them now. Oranges in tissue paper packed in crates. +Citrons too. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin’s parade. And +Mastiansky with the old cither. Pleasant evenings we had then. Molly in +Citron’s basketchair. Nice to hold, cool waxen fruit, hold in the hand, +lift it to the nostrils and smell the perfume. Like that, heavy, sweet, +wild perfume. Always the same, year after year. They fetched high +prices too, Moisel told me. Arbutus place: Pleasants street: pleasant +old times. Must be without a flaw, he said. Coming all that way: Spain, +Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the Levant. Crates lined up on the quayside +at Jaffa, chap ticking them off in a book, navvies handling them +barefoot in soiled dungarees. There’s whatdoyoucallhim out of. How do +you? Doesn’t see. Chap you know just to salute bit of a bore. His back +is like that Norwegian captain’s. Wonder if I’ll meet him today. +Watering cart. To provoke the rain. On earth as it is in heaven. + +A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly. Grey. Far. + +No, not like that. A barren land, bare waste. Vulcanic lake, the dead +sea: no fish, weedless, sunk deep in the earth. No wind could lift +those waves, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. Brimstone they called +it raining down: the cities of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. All +dead names. A dead sea in a dead land, grey and old. Old now. It bore +the oldest, the first race. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy’s, +clutching a naggin bottle by the neck. The oldest people. Wandered far +away over all the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, +being born everywhere. It lay there now. Now it could bear no more. +Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken cunt of the world. + +Desolation. + +Grey horror seared his flesh. Folding the page into his pocket he +turned into Eccles street, hurrying homeward. Cold oils slid along his +veins, chilling his blood: age crusting him with a salt cloak. Well, I +am here now. Yes, I am here now. Morning mouth bad images. Got up wrong +side of the bed. Must begin again those Sandow’s exercises. On the +hands down. Blotchy brown brick houses. Number eighty still unlet. Why +is that? Valuation is only twentyeight. Towers, Battersby, North, +MacArthur: parlour windows plastered with bills. Plasters on a sore +eye. To smell the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling +butter. Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh. Yes, yes. + +Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road, swiftly, in slim +sandals, along the brightening footpath. Runs, she runs to meet me, a +girl with gold hair on the wind. + +Two letters and a card lay on the hallfloor. He stooped and gathered +them. Mrs Marion Bloom. His quickened heart slowed at once. Bold hand. +Mrs Marion. + +—Poldy! + +Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm +yellow twilight towards her tousled head. + +—Who are the letters for? + +He looked at them. Mullingar. Milly. + +—A letter for me from Milly, he said carefully, and a card to you. And +a letter for you. + +He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of +her knees. + +—Do you want the blind up? + +Letting the blind up by gentle tugs halfway his backward eye saw her +glance at the letter and tuck it under her pillow. + +—That do? he asked, turning. + +She was reading the card, propped on her elbow. + +—She got the things, she said. + +He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back +slowly with a snug sigh. + +—Hurry up with that tea, she said. I’m parched. + +—The kettle is boiling, he said. + +But he delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled +linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the foot of the bed. + +As he went down the kitchen stairs she called: + +—Poldy! + +—What? + +—Scald the teapot. + +On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the spout. He scalded +and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting +the kettle then to let the water flow in. Having set it to draw he took +off the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the live coals and watched the +lump of butter slide and melt. While he unwrapped the kidney the cat +mewed hungrily against him. Give her too much meat she won’t mouse. Say +they won’t eat pork. Kosher. Here. He let the bloodsmeared paper fall +to her and dropped the kidney amid the sizzling butter sauce. Pepper. +He sprinkled it through his fingers ringwise from the chipped eggcup. + +Then he slit open his letter, glancing down the page and over. Thanks: +new tam: Mr Coghlan: lough Owel picnic: young student: Blazes Boylan’s +seaside girls. + +The tea was drawn. He filled his own moustachecup, sham crown Derby, +smiling. Silly Milly’s birthday gift. Only five she was then. No, wait: +four. I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke. Putting pieces of +folded brown paper in the letterbox for her. He smiled, pouring. + + O, Milly Bloom, you are my darling. + You are my lookingglass from night to morning. + I’d rather have you without a farthing + Than Katey Keogh with her ass and garden. + +Poor old professor Goodwin. Dreadful old case. Still he was a courteous +old chap. Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the platform. And +the little mirror in his silk hat. The night Milly brought it into the +parlour. O, look what I found in professor Goodwin’s hat! All we +laughed. Sex breaking out even then. Pert little piece she was. + +He prodded a fork into the kidney and slapped it over: then fitted the +teapot on the tray. Its hump bumped as he took it up. Everything on it? +Bread and butter, four, sugar, spoon, her cream. Yes. He carried it +upstairs, his thumb hooked in the teapot handle. + +Nudging the door open with his knee he carried the tray in and set it +on the chair by the bedhead. + +—What a time you were! she said. + +She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on +the pillow. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large +soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat’s udder. The +warmth of her couched body rose on the air, mingling with the fragrance +of the tea she poured. + +A strip of torn envelope peeped from under the dimpled pillow. In the +act of going he stayed to straighten the bedspread. + +—Who was the letter from? he asked. + +Bold hand. Marion. + +—O, Boylan, she said. He’s bringing the programme. + +—What are you singing? + +—_Là ci darem_ with J. C. Doyle, she said, and _Love’s Old Sweet Song_. + +Her full lips, drinking, smiled. Rather stale smell that incense leaves +next day. Like foul flowerwater. + +—Would you like the window open a little? + +She doubled a slice of bread into her mouth, asking: + +—What time is the funeral? + +—Eleven, I think, he answered. I didn’t see the paper. + +Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled +drawers from the bed. No? Then, a twisted grey garter looped round a +stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. + +—No: that book. + +Other stocking. Her petticoat. + +—It must have fell down, she said. + +He felt here and there. _Voglio e non vorrei_. Wonder if she pronounces +that right: _voglio_. Not in the bed. Must have slid down. He stooped +and lifted the valance. The book, fallen, sprawled against the bulge of +the orangekeyed chamberpot. + +—Show here, she said. I put a mark in it. There’s a word I wanted to +ask you. + +She swallowed a draught of tea from her cup held by nothandle and, +having wiped her fingertips smartly on the blanket, began to search the +text with the hairpin till she reached the word. + +—Met him what? he asked. + +—Here, she said. What does that mean? + +He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail. + +—Metempsychosis? + +—Yes. Who’s he when he’s at home? + +—Metempsychosis, he said, frowning. It’s Greek: from the Greek. That +means the transmigration of souls. + +—O, rocks! she said. Tell us in plain words. + +He smiled, glancing askance at her mocking eyes. The same young eyes. +The first night after the charades. Dolphin’s Barn. He turned over the +smudged pages. _Ruby: the Pride of the Ring_. Hello. Illustration. +Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. Must be Ruby pride of the on the +floor naked. Sheet kindly lent. _The monster Maffei desisted and flung +his victim from him with an oath_. Cruelty behind it all. Doped +animals. Trapeze at Hengler’s. Had to look the other way. Mob gaping. +Break your neck and we’ll break our sides. Families of them. Bone them +young so they metamspychosis. That we live after death. Our souls. That +a man’s soul after he dies. Dignam’s soul... + +—Did you finish it? he asked. + +—Yes, she said. There’s nothing smutty in it. Is she in love with the +first fellow all the time? + +—Never read it. Do you want another? + +—Yes. Get another of Paul de Kock’s. Nice name he has. + +She poured more tea into her cup, watching it flow sideways. + +Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they’ll write to +Kearney, my guarantor. Reincarnation: that’s the word. + +—Some people believe, he said, that we go on living in another body +after death, that we lived before. They call it reincarnation. That we +all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other +planet. They say we have forgotten it. Some say they remember their +past lives. + +The sluggish cream wound curdling spirals through her tea. Better +remind her of the word: metempsychosis. An example would be better. An +example? + +The _Bath of the Nymph_ over the bed. Given away with the Easter number +of _Photo Bits_: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. Tea before you +put milk in. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Three and six +I gave for the frame. She said it would look nice over the bed. Naked +nymphs: Greece: and for instance all the people that lived then. + +He turned the pages back. + +—Metempsychosis, he said, is what the ancient Greeks called it. They +used to believe you could be changed into an animal or a tree, for +instance. What they called nymphs, for example. + +Her spoon ceased to stir up the sugar. She gazed straight before her, +inhaling through her arched nostrils. + +—There’s a smell of burn, she said. Did you leave anything on the fire? + +—The kidney! he cried suddenly. + +He fitted the book roughly into his inner pocket and, stubbing his toes +against the broken commode, hurried out towards the smell, stepping +hastily down the stairs with a flurried stork’s legs. Pungent smoke +shot up in an angry jet from a side of the pan. By prodding a prong of +the fork under the kidney he detached it and turned it turtle on its +back. Only a little burnt. He tossed it off the pan on to a plate and +let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it. + +Cup of tea now. He sat down, cut and buttered a slice of the loaf. He +shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to the cat. Then he put a +forkful into his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant +meat. Done to a turn. A mouthful of tea. Then he cut away dies of +bread, sopped one in the gravy and put it in his mouth. What was that +about some young student and a picnic? He creased out the letter at his +side, reading it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in +the gravy and raising it to his mouth. + + +Dearest Papli + +Thanks ever so much for the lovely birthday present. It suits me +splendid. Everyone says I am quite the belle in my new tam. I got +mummy’s lovely box of creams and am writing. They are lovely. I am +getting on swimming in the photo business now. Mr Coghlan took one of +me and Mrs. Will send when developed. We did great biz yesterday. Fair +day and all the beef to the heels were in. We are going to lough Owel +on Monday with a few friends to make a scrap picnic. Give my love to +mummy and to yourself a big kiss and thanks. I hear them at the piano +downstairs. There is to be a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday. +There is a young student comes here some evenings named Bannon his +cousins or something are big swells and he sings Boylan’s (I was on the +pop of writing Blazes Boylan’s) song about those seaside girls. Tell +him silly Milly sends my best respects. I must now close with fondest +love + + Your fond daughter + Milly + +P. S. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Byby. + + M. + + +Fifteen yesterday. Curious, fifteenth of the month too. Her first +birthday away from home. Separation. Remember the summer morning she +was born, running to knock up Mrs Thornton in Denzille street. Jolly +old woman. Lot of babies she must have helped into the world. She knew +from the first poor little Rudy wouldn’t live. Well, God is good, sir. +She knew at once. He would be eleven now if he had lived. + +His vacant face stared pityingly at the postscript. Excuse bad writing. +Hurry. Piano downstairs. Coming out of her shell. Row with her in the +XL Café about the bracelet. Wouldn’t eat her cakes or speak or look. +Saucebox. He sopped other dies of bread in the gravy and ate piece +after piece of kidney. Twelve and six a week. Not much. Still, she +might do worse. Music hall stage. Young student. He drank a draught of +cooler tea to wash down his meal. Then he read the letter again: twice. + +O, well: she knows how to mind herself. But if not? No, nothing has +happened. Of course it might. Wait in any case till it does. A wild +piece of goods. Her slim legs running up the staircase. Destiny. +Ripening now. Vain: very. + +He smiled with troubled affection at the kitchen window. Day I caught +her in the street pinching her cheeks to make them red. Anemic a +little. Was given milk too long. On the _Erin’s King_ that day round +the Kish. Damned old tub pitching about. Not a bit funky. Her pale blue +scarf loose in the wind with her hair. + + All dimpled cheeks and curls, + Your head it simply swirls. + +Seaside girls. Torn envelope. Hands stuck in his trousers’ pockets, +jarvey off for the day, singing. Friend of the family. Swurls, he says. +Pier with lamps, summer evening, band. + + Those girls, those girls, + Those lovely seaside girls. + +Milly too. Young kisses: the first. Far away now past. Mrs Marion. +Reading, lying back now, counting the strands of her hair, smiling, +braiding. + +A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his backbone, increasing. Will +happen, yes. Prevent. Useless: can’t move. Girl’s sweet light lips. +Will happen too. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. Useless to +move now. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Full gluey woman’s lips. + +Better where she is down there: away. Occupy her. Wanted a dog to pass +the time. Might take a trip down there. August bank holiday, only two +and six return. Six weeks off, however. Might work a press pass. Or +through M’Coy. + +The cat, having cleaned all her fur, returned to the meatstained paper, +nosed at it and stalked to the door. She looked back at him, mewing. +Wants to go out. Wait before a door sometime it will open. Let her +wait. Has the fidgets. Electric. Thunder in the air. Was washing at her +ear with her back to the fire too. + +He felt heavy, full: then a gentle loosening of his bowels. He stood +up, undoing the waistband of his trousers. The cat mewed to him. + +—Miaow! he said in answer. Wait till I’m ready. + +Heaviness: hot day coming. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to the +landing. + +A paper. He liked to read at stool. Hope no ape comes knocking just as +I’m. + +In the tabledrawer he found an old number of _Titbits_. He folded it +under his armpit, went to the door and opened it. The cat went up in +soft bounds. Ah, wanted to go upstairs, curl up in a ball on the bed. + +Listening, he heard her voice: + +—Come, come, pussy. Come. + +He went out through the backdoor into the garden: stood to listen +towards the next garden. No sound. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. +The maid was in the garden. Fine morning. + +He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the wall. +Make a summerhouse here. Scarlet runners. Virginia creepers. Want to +manure the whole place over, scabby soil. A coat of liver of sulphur. +All soil like that without dung. Household slops. Loam, what is this +that is? The hens in the next garden: their droppings are very good top +dressing. Best of all though are the cattle, especially when they are +fed on those oilcakes. Mulch of dung. Best thing to clean ladies’ kid +gloves. Dirty cleans. Ashes too. Reclaim the whole place. Grow peas in +that corner there. Lettuce. Always have fresh greens then. Still +gardens have their drawbacks. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday. + +He walked on. Where is my hat, by the way? Must have put it back on the +peg. Or hanging up on the floor. Funny I don’t remember that. Hallstand +too full. Four umbrellas, her raincloak. Picking up the letters. +Drago’s shopbell ringing. Queer I was just thinking that moment. Brown +brillantined hair over his collar. Just had a wash and brushup. Wonder +have I time for a bath this morning. Tara street. Chap in the paybox +there got away James Stephens, they say. O’Brien. + +Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. Agendath what is it? Now, my miss. +Enthusiast. + +He kicked open the crazy door of the jakes. Better be careful not to +get these trousers dirty for the funeral. He went in, bowing his head +under the low lintel. Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy +limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces. Before sitting down he +peered through a chink up at the nextdoor windows. The king was in his +countinghouse. Nobody. + +Asquat on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over +on his bared knees. Something new and easy. No great hurry. Keep it a +bit. Our prize titbit: _Matcham’s Masterstroke_. Written by Mr Philip +Beaufoy, Playgoers’ Club, London. Payment at the rate of one guinea a +column has been made to the writer. Three and a half. Three pounds +three. Three pounds, thirteen and six. + +Quietly he read, restraining himself, the first column and, yielding +but resisting, began the second. Midway, his last resistance yielding, +he allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he read, reading +still patiently that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone. Hope +it’s not too big bring on piles again. No, just right. So. Ah! Costive. +One tabloid of cascara sagrada. Life might be so. It did not move or +touch him but it was something quick and neat. Print anything now. +Silly season. He read on, seated calm above his own rising smell. Neat +certainly. _Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke by which he won +the laughing witch who now_. Begins and ends morally. _Hand in hand_. +Smart. He glanced back through what he had read and, while feeling his +water flow quietly, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and +received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six. + +Might manage a sketch. By Mr and Mrs L. M. Bloom. Invent a story for +some proverb. Which? Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what +she said dressing. Dislike dressing together. Nicked myself shaving. +Biting her nether lip, hooking the placket of her skirt. Timing her. +9.15. Did Roberts pay you yet? 9.20. What had Gretta Conroy on? 9.23. +What possessed me to buy this comb? 9.24. I’m swelled after that +cabbage. A speck of dust on the patent leather of her boot. + +Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her stockinged calf. Morning +after the bazaar dance when May’s band played Ponchielli’s dance of the +hours. Explain that: morning hours, noon, then evening coming on, then +night hours. Washing her teeth. That was the first night. Her head +dancing. Her fansticks clicking. Is that Boylan well off? He has money. +Why? I noticed he had a good rich smell off his breath dancing. No use +humming then. Allude to it. Strange kind of music that last night. The +mirror was in shadow. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen +vest against her full wagging bub. Peering into it. Lines in her eyes. +It wouldn’t pan out somehow. + +Evening hours, girls in grey gauze. Night hours then: black with +daggers and eyemasks. Poetical idea: pink, then golden, then grey, then +black. Still, true to life also. Day: then the night. + +He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. +Then he girded up his trousers, braced and buttoned himself. He pulled +back the jerky shaky door of the jakes and came forth from the gloom +into the air. + +In the bright light, lightened and cooled in limb, he eyed carefully +his black trousers: the ends, the knees, the houghs of the knees. What +time is the funeral? Better find out in the paper. + +A creak and a dark whirr in the air high up. The bells of George’s +church. They tolled the hour: loud dark iron. + + Heigho! Heigho! + Heigho! Heigho! + Heigho! Heigho! + +Quarter to. There again: the overtone following through the air. A +third. + +Poor Dignam! + + +[ 5 ] + +By lorries along sir John Rogerson’s quay Mr Bloom walked soberly, past +Windmill lane, Leask’s the linseed crusher, the postal telegraph +office. Could have given that address too. And past the sailors’ home. +He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through +Lime street. By Brady’s cottages a boy for the skins lolled, his bucket +of offal linked, smoking a chewed fagbutt. A smaller girl with scars of +eczema on her forehead eyed him, listlessly holding her battered +caskhoop. Tell him if he smokes he won’t grow. O let him! His life +isn’t such a bed of roses. Waiting outside pubs to bring da home. Come +home to ma, da. Slack hour: won’t be many there. He crossed Townsend +street, passed the frowning face of Bethel. El, yes: house of: Aleph, +Beth. And past Nichols’ the undertaker. At eleven it is. Time enough. +Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O’Neill’s. Singing with his +eyes shut. Corny. Met her once in the park. In the dark. What a lark. +Police tout. Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom +tooraloom tay. O, surely he bagged it. Bury him cheap in a +whatyoumaycall. With my tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom. + +In Westland row he halted before the window of the Belfast and Oriental +Tea Company and read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend, +finest quality, family tea. Rather warm. Tea. Must get some from Tom +Kernan. Couldn’t ask him at a funeral, though. While his eyes still +read blandly he took off his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent +his right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. Very warm +morning. Under their dropped lids his eyes found the tiny bow of the +leather headband inside his high grade ha. Just there. His right hand +came down into the bowl of his hat. His fingers found quickly a card +behind the headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket. + +So warm. His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and +hair. Then he put on his hat again, relieved: and read again: choice +blend, made of the finest Ceylon brands. The far east. Lovely spot it +must be: the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, +cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Wonder is it like +that. Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in _dolce far niente_, +not doing a hand’s turn all day. Sleep six months out of twelve. Too +hot to quarrel. Influence of the climate. Lethargy. Flowers of +idleness. The air feeds most. Azotes. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. +Sensitive plants. Waterlilies. Petals too tired to. Sleeping sickness +in the air. Walk on roseleaves. Imagine trying to eat tripe and +cowheel. Where was the chap I saw in that picture somewhere? Ah yes, in +the dead sea floating on his back, reading a book with a parasol open. +Couldn’t sink if you tried: so thick with salt. Because the weight of +the water, no, the weight of the body in the water is equal to the +weight of the what? Or is it the volume is equal to the weight? It’s a +law something like that. Vance in High school cracking his +fingerjoints, teaching. The college curriculum. Cracking curriculum. +What is weight really when you say the weight? Thirtytwo feet per +second per second. Law of falling bodies: per second per second. They +all fall to the ground. The earth. It’s the force of gravity of the +earth is the weight. + +He turned away and sauntered across the road. How did she walk with her +sausages? Like that something. As he walked he took the folded +_Freeman_ from his sidepocket, unfolded it, rolled it lengthwise in a +baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. +Careless air: just drop in to see. Per second per second. Per second +for every second it means. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance +through the door of the postoffice. Too late box. Post here. No-one. +In. + +He handed the card through the brass grill. + +—Are there any letters for me? he asked. + +While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the recruiting +poster with soldiers of all arms on parade: and held the tip of his +baton against his nostrils, smelling freshprinted rag paper. No answer +probably. Went too far last time. + +The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a +letter. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the typed envelope. + +Henry Flower Esq, +c/o P. O. Westland Row, + City. + + +Answered anyhow. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket, +reviewing again the soldiers on parade. Where’s old Tweedy’s regiment? +Castoff soldier. There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. No, he’s a +grenadier. Pointed cuffs. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. +Redcoats. Too showy. That must be why the women go after them. Uniform. +Easier to enlist and drill. Maud Gonne’s letter about taking them off +O’Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Griffith’s +paper is on the same tack now: an army rotten with venereal disease: +overseas or halfseasover empire. Half baked they look: hypnotised like. +Eyes front. Mark time. Table: able. Bed: ed. The King’s own. Never see +him dressed up as a fireman or a bobby. A mason, yes. + +He strolled out of the postoffice and turned to the right. Talk: as if +that would mend matters. His hand went into his pocket and a forefinger +felt its way under the flap of the envelope, ripping it open in jerks. +Women will pay a lot of heed, I don’t think. His fingers drew forth the +letter the letter and crumpled the envelope in his pocket. Something +pinned on: photo perhaps. Hair? No. + +M’Coy. Get rid of him quickly. Take me out of my way. Hate company when +you. + +—Hello, Bloom. Where are you off to? + +—Hello, M’Coy. Nowhere in particular. + +—How’s the body? + +—Fine. How are you? + +—Just keeping alive, M’Coy said. + +His eyes on the black tie and clothes he asked with low respect: + +—Is there any... no trouble I hope? I see you’re... + +—O, no, Mr Bloom said. Poor Dignam, you know. The funeral is today. + +—To be sure, poor fellow. So it is. What time? + +A photo it isn’t. A badge maybe. + +—E...eleven, Mr Bloom answered. + +—I must try to get out there, M’Coy said. Eleven, is it? I only heard +it last night. Who was telling me? Holohan. You know Hoppy? + +—I know. + +Mr Bloom gazed across the road at the outsider drawn up before the door +of the Grosvenor. The porter hoisted the valise up on the well. She +stood still, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, like her, +searched his pockets for change. Stylish kind of coat with that roll +collar, warm for a day like this, looks like blanketcloth. Careless +stand of her with her hands in those patch pockets. Like that haughty +creature at the polo match. Women all for caste till you touch the +spot. Handsome is and handsome does. Reserved about to yield. The +honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Possess her once take +the starch out of her. + +—I was with Bob Doran, he’s on one of his periodical bends, and what do +you call him Bantam Lyons. Just down there in Conway’s we were. + +Doran Lyons in Conway’s. She raised a gloved hand to her hair. In came +Hoppy. Having a wet. Drawing back his head and gazing far from beneath +his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the glare, the +braided drums. Clearly I can see today. Moisture about gives long sight +perhaps. Talking of one thing or another. Lady’s hand. Which side will +she get up? + +—And he said: _Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! What Paddy?_ I +said. _Poor little Paddy Dignam_, he said. + +Off to the country: Broadstone probably. High brown boots with laces +dangling. Wellturned foot. What is he foostering over that change for? +Sees me looking. Eye out for other fellow always. Good fallback. Two +strings to her bow. + +—_Why?_ I said. _What’s wrong with him?_ I said. + +Proud: rich: silk stockings. + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said. + +He moved a little to the side of M’Coy’s talking head. Getting up in a +minute. + +—_What’s wrong with him_? He said. _He’s dead_, he said. And, faith, he +filled up. _Is it Paddy Dignam_? I said. I couldn’t believe it when I +heard it. I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it +in the Arch. _Yes,_ he said. _He’s gone. He died on Monday, poor +fellow_. + +Watch! Watch! Silk flash rich stockings white. Watch! + +A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. + +Lost it. Curse your noisy pugnose. Feels locked out of it. Paradise and +the peri. Always happening like that. The very moment. Girl in Eustace +street hallway Monday was it settling her garter. Her friend covering +the display of. _Esprit de corps_. Well, what are you gaping at? + +—Yes, yes, Mr Bloom said after a dull sigh. Another gone. + +—One of the best, M’Coy said. + +The tram passed. They drove off towards the Loop Line bridge, her rich +gloved hand on the steel grip. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her +hat in the sun: flicker, flick. + +—Wife well, I suppose? M’Coy’s changed voice said. + +—O, yes, Mr Bloom said. Tiptop, thanks. + +He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read idly: + + What is home without + Plumtree’s Potted Meat? + Incomplete. + With it an abode of bliss. + +—My missus has just got an engagement. At least it’s not settled yet. + +Valise tack again. By the way no harm. I’m off that, thanks. + +Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. + +—My wife too, he said. She’s going to sing at a swagger affair in the +Ulster Hall, Belfast, on the twentyfifth. + +—That so? M’Coy said. Glad to hear that, old man. Who’s getting it up? + +Mrs Marion Bloom. Not up yet. Queen was in her bedroom eating bread +and. No book. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. +Dark lady and fair man. Letter. Cat furry black ball. Torn strip of +envelope. + + Love’s + Old + Sweet + Song + Comes lo-ove’s old... + +—It’s a kind of a tour, don’t you see, Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. +_Sweeeet song_. There’s a committee formed. Part shares and part +profits. + +M’Coy nodded, picking at his moustache stubble. + +—O, well, he said. That’s good news. + +He moved to go. + +—Well, glad to see you looking fit, he said. Meet you knocking around. + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said. + +—Tell you what, M’Coy said. You might put down my name at the funeral, +will you? I’d like to go but I mightn’t be able, you see. There’s a +drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then the coroner and myself +would have to go down if the body is found. You just shove in my name +if I’m not there, will you? + +—I’ll do that, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. That’ll be all right. + +—Right, M’Coy said brightly. Thanks, old man. I’d go if I possibly +could. Well, tolloll. Just C. P. M’Coy will do. + +—That will be done, Mr Bloom answered firmly. + +Didn’t catch me napping that wheeze. The quick touch. Soft mark. I’d +like my job. Valise I have a particular fancy for. Leather. Capped +corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. Bob Cowley lent him +his for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings +of it from that good day to this. + +Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled. My missus has +just got an. Reedy freckled soprano. Cheeseparing nose. Nice enough in +its way: for a little ballad. No guts in it. You and me, don’t you +know: in the same boat. Softsoaping. Give you the needle that would. +Can’t he hear the difference? Think he’s that way inclined a bit. +Against my grain somehow. Thought that Belfast would fetch him. I hope +that smallpox up there doesn’t get worse. Suppose she wouldn’t let +herself be vaccinated again. Your wife and my wife. + +Wonder is he pimping after me? + +Mr Bloom stood at the corner, his eyes wandering over the multicoloured +hoardings. Cantrell and Cochrane’s Ginger Ale (Aromatic). Clery’s +Summer Sale. No, he’s going on straight. Hello. _Leah_ tonight. Mrs +Bandmann Palmer. Like to see her again in that. _Hamlet_ she played +last night. Male impersonator. Perhaps he was a woman. Why Ophelia +committed suicide. Poor papa! How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in +that. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the afternoon to get in. +Year before I was born that was: sixtyfive. And Ristori in Vienna. What +is this the right name is? By Mosenthal it is. Rachel, is it? No. The +scene he was always talking about where the old blind Abraham +recognises the voice and puts his fingers on his face. + +Nathan’s voice! His son’s voice! I hear the voice of Nathan who left +his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who left the house of +his father and left the God of his father. + +Every word is so deep, Leopold. + +Poor papa! Poor man! I’m glad I didn’t go into the room to look at his +face. That day! O, dear! O, dear! Ffoo! Well, perhaps it was best for +him. + +Mr Bloom went round the corner and passed the drooping nags of the +hazard. No use thinking of it any more. Nosebag time. Wish I hadn’t met +that M’Coy fellow. + +He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats, the gently +champing teeth. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid +the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. Their Eldorado. Poor jugginses! Damn +all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in +nosebags. Too full for words. Still they get their feed all right and +their doss. Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp +between their haunches. Might be happy all the same that way. Good poor +brutes they look. Still their neigh can be very irritating. + +He drew the letter from his pocket and folded it into the newspaper he +carried. Might just walk into her here. The lane is safer. + +He passed the cabman’s shelter. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. +All weathers, all places, time or setdown, no will of their own. +_Voglio e non_. Like to give them an odd cigarette. Sociable. Shout a +few flying syllables as they pass. He hummed: + + Là ci darem la mano + La la lala la la. + + +He turned into Cumberland street and, going on some paces, halted in +the lee of the station wall. No-one. Meade’s timberyard. Piled balks. +Ruins and tenements. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch +court with its forgotten pickeystone. Not a sinner. Near the timberyard +a squatted child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a cunnythumb. +A wise tabby, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. Pity to +disturb them. Mohammed cut a piece out of his mantle not to wake her. +Open it. And once I played marbles when I went to that old dame’s +school. She liked mignonette. Mrs Ellis’s. And Mr? He opened the letter +within the newspaper. + +A flower. I think it’s a. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Not +annoyed then? What does she say? + + +Dear Henry + +I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it. I am sorry +you did not like my last letter. Why did you enclose the stamps? I am +awfully angry with you. I do wish I could punish you for that. I called +you naughty boy because I do not like that other world. Please tell me +what is the real meaning of that word? Are you not happy in your home +you poor little naughty boy? I do wish I could do something for you. +Please tell me what you think of poor me. I often think of the +beautiful name you have. Dear Henry, when will we meet? I think of you +so often you have no idea. I have never felt myself so much drawn to a +man as you. I feel so bad about. Please write me a long letter and tell +me more. Remember if you do not I will punish you. So now you know what +I will do to you, you naughty boy, if you do not wrote. O how I long to +meet you. Henry dear, do not deny my request before my patience are +exhausted. Then I will tell you all. Goodbye now, naughty darling, I +have such a bad headache. today. and write _by return_ to your longing + +Martha + + +P. S. Do tell me what kind of perfume does your wife use. I want to +know. + + +He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell +and placed it in his heart pocket. Language of flowers. They like it +because no-one can hear. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. Then +walking slowly forward he read the letter again, murmuring here and +there a word. Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your +cactus if you don’t please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear +roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha’s +perfume. Having read it all he took it from the newspaper and put it +back in his sidepocket. + +Weak joy opened his lips. Changed since the first letter. Wonder did +she wrote it herself. Doing the indignant: a girl of good family like +me, respectable character. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. +Thank you: not having any. Usual love scrimmage. Then running round +corners. Bad as a row with Molly. Cigar has a cooling effect. Narcotic. +Go further next time. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course. +Brutal, why not? Try it anyhow. A bit at a time. + +Fingering still the letter in his pocket he drew the pin out of it. +Common pin, eh? He threw it on the road. Out of her clothes somewhere: +pinned together. Queer the number of pins they always have. No roses +without thorns. + +Flat Dublin voices bawled in his head. Those two sluts that night in +the Coombe, linked together in the rain. + + O, Mairy lost the pin of her drawers. + She didn’t know what to do + To keep it up, + To keep it up. + +It? Them. Such a bad headache. Has her roses probably. Or sitting all +day typing. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. What perfume does your +wife use. Now could you make out a thing like that? + + To keep it up. + +Martha, Mary. I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or +faked for money. He is sitting in their house, talking. Mysterious. +Also the two sluts in the Coombe would listen. + + To keep it up. + +Nice kind of evening feeling. No more wandering about. Just loll there: +quiet dusk: let everything rip. Forget. Tell about places you have +been, strange customs. The other one, jar on her head, was getting the +supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of a well, stonecold like +the hole in the wall at Ashtown. Must carry a paper goblet next time I +go to the trottingmatches. She listens with big dark soft eyes. Tell +her: more and more: all. Then a sigh: silence. Long long long rest. + +Going under the railway arch he took out the envelope, tore it swiftly +in shreds and scattered them towards the road. The shreds fluttered +away, sank in the dank air: a white flutter, then all sank. + +Henry Flower. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the +same way. Simple bit of paper. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure +cheque for a million in the bank of Ireland. Shows you the money to be +made out of porter. Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change +his shirt four times a day, they say. Skin breeds lice or vermin. A +million pounds, wait a moment. Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, +eightpence a gallon of porter, no, one and fourpence a gallon of +porter. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Yes, exactly. Fifteen +millions of barrels of porter. + +What am I saying barrels? Gallons. About a million barrels all the +same. + +An incoming train clanked heavily above his head, coach after coach. +Barrels bumped in his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside. The +bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing +together, winding through mudflats all over the level land, a lazy +pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth. + +He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Stepping into the +porch he doffed his hat, took the card from his pocket and tucked it +again behind the leather headband. Damn it. I might have tried to work +M’Coy for a pass to Mullingar. + +Same notice on the door. Sermon by the very reverend John Conmee S. J. +on saint Peter Claver S. J. and the African Mission. Prayers for the +conversion of Gladstone they had too when he was almost unconscious. +The protestants are the same. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the +true religion. Save China’s millions. Wonder how they explain it to the +heathen Chinee. Prefer an ounce of opium. Celestials. Rank heresy for +them. Buddha their god lying on his side in the museum. Taking it easy +with hand under his cheek. Josssticks burning. Not like Ecce Homo. +Crown of thorns and cross. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. +Chopsticks? Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. +Sorry I didn’t work him about getting Molly into the choir instead of +that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn’t. They’re taught that. +He’s not going out in bluey specs with the sweat rolling off him to +baptise blacks, is he? The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. +Like to see them sitting round in a ring with blub lips, entranced, +listening. Still life. Lap it up like milk, I suppose. + +The cold smell of sacred stone called him. He trod the worn steps, +pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere. + +Something going on: some sodality. Pity so empty. Nice discreet place +to be next some girl. Who is my neighbour? Jammed by the hour to slow +music. That woman at midnight mass. Seventh heaven. Women knelt in the +benches with crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. A batch +knelt at the altarrails. The priest went along by them, murmuring, +holding the thing in his hands. He stopped at each, took out a +communion, shook a drop or two (are they in water?) off it and put it +neatly into her mouth. Her hat and head sank. Then the next one. Her +hat sank at once. Then the next one: a small old woman. The priest bent +down to put it into her mouth, murmuring all the time. Latin. The next +one. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. What? _Corpus:_ body. Corpse. +Good idea the Latin. Stupefies them first. Hospice for the dying. They +don’t seem to chew it: only swallow it down. Rum idea: eating bits of a +corpse. Why the cannibals cotton to it. + +He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by +one, and seek their places. He approached a bench and seated himself in +its corner, nursing his hat and newspaper. These pots we have to wear. +We ought to have hats modelled on our heads. They were about him here +and there, with heads still bowed in their crimson halters, waiting for +it to melt in their stomachs. Something like those mazzoth: it’s that +sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. Look at them. Now I bet it makes +them feel happy. Lollipop. It does. Yes, bread of angels it’s called. +There’s a big idea behind it, kind of kingdom of God is within you +feel. First communicants. Hokypoky penny a lump. Then feel all like one +family party, same in the theatre, all in the same swim. They do. I’m +sure of that. Not so lonely. In our confraternity. Then come out a bit +spreeish. Let off steam. Thing is if you really believe in it. Lourdes +cure, waters of oblivion, and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. +Old fellow asleep near that confessionbox. Hence those snores. Blind +faith. Safe in the arms of kingdom come. Lulls all pain. Wake this time +next year. + +He saw the priest stow the communion cup away, well in, and kneel an +instant before it, showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace +affair he had on. Suppose he lost the pin of his. He wouldn’t know what +to do to. Bald spot behind. Letters on his back: I.N.R.I? No: I.H.S. +Molly told me one time I asked her. I have sinned: or no: I have +suffered, it is. And the other one? Iron nails ran in. + +Meet one Sunday after the rosary. Do not deny my request. Turn up with +a veil and black bag. Dusk and the light behind her. She might be here +with a ribbon round her neck and do the other thing all the same on the +sly. Their character. That fellow that turned queen’s evidence on the +invincibles he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the communion +every morning. This very church. Peter Carey, yes. No, Peter Claver I +am thinking of. Denis Carey. And just imagine that. Wife and six +children at home. And plotting that murder all the time. Those +crawthumpers, now that’s a good name for them, there’s always something +shiftylooking about them. They’re not straight men of business either. +O, no, she’s not here: the flower: no, no. By the way, did I tear up +that envelope? Yes: under the bridge. + +The priest was rinsing out the chalice: then he tossed off the dregs +smartly. Wine. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank +what they are used to Guinness’s porter or some temperance beverage +Wheatley’s Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane’s ginger ale +(aromatic). Doesn’t give them any of it: shew wine: only the other. +Cold comfort. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they’d have one +old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a drink. Queer +the whole atmosphere of the. Quite right. Perfectly right that is. + +Mr Bloom looked back towards the choir. Not going to be any music. +Pity. Who has the organ here I wonder? Old Glynn he knew how to make +that instrument talk, the _vibrato_: fifty pounds a year they say he +had in Gardiner street. Molly was in fine voice that day, the _Stabat +Mater_ of Rossini. Father Bernard Vaughan’s sermon first. Christ or +Pilate? Christ, but don’t keep us all night over it. Music they wanted. +Footdrill stopped. Could hear a pin drop. I told her to pitch her voice +against that corner. I could feel the thrill in the air, the full, the +people looking up: + +_Quis est homo._ + +Some of that old sacred music splendid. Mercadante: seven last words. +Mozart’s twelfth mass: _Gloria_ in that. Those old popes keen on music, +on art and statues and pictures of all kinds. Palestrina for example +too. They had a gay old time while it lasted. Healthy too, chanting, +regular hours, then brew liqueurs. Benedictine. Green Chartreuse. +Still, having eunuchs in their choir that was coming it a bit thick. +What kind of voice is it? Must be curious to hear after their own +strong basses. Connoisseurs. Suppose they wouldn’t feel anything after. +Kind of a placid. No worry. Fall into flesh, don’t they? Gluttons, +tall, long legs. Who knows? Eunuch. One way out of it. + +He saw the priest bend down and kiss the altar and then face about and +bless all the people. All crossed themselves and stood up. Mr Bloom +glanced about him and then stood up, looking over the risen hats. Stand +up at the gospel of course. Then all settled down on their knees again +and he sat back quietly in his bench. The priest came down from the +altar, holding the thing out from him, and he and the massboy answered +each other in Latin. Then the priest knelt down and began to read off a +card: + +—O God, our refuge and our strength... + +Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. English. Throw them +the bone. I remember slightly. How long since your last mass? Glorious +and immaculate virgin. Joseph, her spouse. Peter and Paul. More +interesting if you understood what it was all about. Wonderful +organisation certainly, goes like clockwork. Confession. Everyone wants +to. Then I will tell you all. Penance. Punish me, please. Great weapon +in their hands. More than doctor or solicitor. Woman dying to. And I +schschschschschsch. And did you chachachachacha? And why did you? Look +down at her ring to find an excuse. Whispering gallery walls have ears. +Husband learn to his surprise. God’s little joke. Then out she comes. +Repentance skindeep. Lovely shame. Pray at an altar. Hail Mary and Holy +Mary. Flowers, incense, candles melting. Hide her blushes. Salvation +army blatant imitation. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. +How I found the Lord. Squareheaded chaps those must be in Rome: they +work the whole show. And don’t they rake in the money too? Bequests +also: to the P.P. for the time being in his absolute discretion. Masses +for the repose of my soul to be said publicly with open doors. +Monasteries and convents. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the +witnessbox. No browbeating him. He had his answer pat for everything. +Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. The doctors of +the church: they mapped out the whole theology of it. + +The priest prayed: + +—Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Be our +safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil (may God +restrain him, we humbly pray!): and do thou, O prince of the heavenly +host, by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him those +other wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of +souls. + +The priest and the massboy stood up and walked off. All over. The women +remained behind: thanksgiving. + +Better be shoving along. Brother Buzz. Come around with the plate +perhaps. Pay your Easter duty. + +He stood up. Hello. Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all the +time? Women enjoy it. Never tell you. But we. Excuse, miss, there’s a +(whh!) just a (whh!) fluff. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. +Glimpses of the moon. Annoyed if you don’t. Why didn’t you tell me +before. Still like you better untidy. Good job it wasn’t farther south. +He passed, discreetly buttoning, down the aisle and out through the +main door into the light. He stood a moment unseeing by the cold black +marble bowl while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive +hands in the low tide of holy water. Trams: a car of Prescott’s +dyeworks: a widow in her weeds. Notice because I’m in mourning myself. +He covered himself. How goes the time? Quarter past. Time enough yet. +Better get that lotion made up. Where is this? Ah yes, the last time. +Sweny’s in Lincoln place. Chemists rarely move. Their green and gold +beaconjars too heavy to stir. Hamilton Long’s, founded in the year of +the flood. Huguenot churchyard near there. Visit some day. + +He walked southward along Westland row. But the recipe is in the other +trousers. O, and I forgot that latchkey too. Bore this funeral affair. +O well, poor fellow, it’s not his fault. When was it I got it made up +last? Wait. I changed a sovereign I remember. First of the month it +must have been or the second. O, he can look it up in the prescriptions +book. + +The chemist turned back page after page. Sandy shrivelled smell he +seems to have. Shrunken skull. And old. Quest for the philosopher’s +stone. The alchemists. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy +then. Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your +character. Living all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. +All his alabaster lilypots. Mortar and pestle. Aq. Dist. Fol. Laur. Te +Virid. Smell almost cure you like the dentist’s doorbell. Doctor Whack. +He ought to physic himself a bit. Electuary or emulsion. The first +fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck. Simples. +Want to be careful. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Test: turns +blue litmus paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping +draughts. Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Clogs the +pores or the phlegm. Poisons the only cures. Remedy where you least +expect it. Clever of nature. + +—About a fortnight ago, sir? + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said. + +He waited by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of drugs, the +dusty dry smell of sponges and loofahs. Lot of time taken up telling +your aches and pains. + +—Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom said, and then +orangeflower water... + +It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. + +—And white wax also, he said. + +Brings out the darkness of her eyes. Looking at me, the sheet up to her +eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when I was fixing the links in my +cuffs. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the +teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. +Skinfood. One of the old queen’s sons, duke of Albany was it? had only +one skin. Leopold, yes. Three we have. Warts, bunions and pimples to +make it worse. But you want a perfume too. What perfume does your? +_Peau d’Espagne_. That orangeflower water is so fresh. Nice smell these +soaps have. Pure curd soap. Time to get a bath round the corner. +Hammam. Turkish. Massage. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. Nicer if a +nice girl did it. Also I think I. Yes I. Do it in the bath. Curious +longing I. Water to water. Combine business with pleasure. Pity no time +for massage. Feel fresh then all the day. Funeral be rather glum. + +—Yes, sir, the chemist said. That was two and nine. Have you brought a +bottle? + +—No, Mr Bloom said. Make it up, please. I’ll call later in the day and +I’ll take one of these soaps. How much are they? + +—Fourpence, sir. + +Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax. + +—I’ll take this one, he said. That makes three and a penny. + +—Yes, sir, the chemist said. You can pay all together, sir, when you +come back. + +—Good, Mr Bloom said. + +He strolled out of the shop, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the +coolwrappered soap in his left hand. + +At his armpit Bantam Lyons’ voice and hand said: + +—Hello, Bloom. What’s the best news? Is that today’s? Show us a minute. + +Shaved off his moustache again, by Jove! Long cold upper lip. To look +younger. He does look balmy. Younger than I am. + +Bantam Lyons’s yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. Wants a +wash too. Take off the rough dirt. Good morning, have you used Pears’ +soap? Dandruff on his shoulders. Scalp wants oiling. + +—I want to see about that French horse that’s running today, Bantam +Lyons said. Where the bugger is it? + +He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high collar. +Barber’s itch. Tight collar he’ll lose his hair. Better leave him the +paper and get shut of him. + +—You can keep it, Mr Bloom said. + +—Ascot. Gold cup. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. Half a mo. Maximum the +second. + +—I was just going to throw it away, Mr Bloom said. + +Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. + +—What’s that? his sharp voice said. + +—I say you can keep it, Mr Bloom answered. I was going to throw it away +that moment. + +Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread +sheets back on Mr Bloom’s arms. + +—I’ll risk it, he said. Here, thanks. + +He sped off towards Conway’s corner. God speed scut. + +Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap +in it, smiling. Silly lips of that chap. Betting. Regular hotbed of it +lately. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. Raffle for large +tender turkey. Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Jack Fleming +embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Keeps a hotel now. +They never come back. Fleshpots of Egypt. + +He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. Remind you of a +mosque, redbaked bricks, the minarets. College sports today I see. He +eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist +doubled up like a cod in a pot. Damn bad ad. Now if they had made it +round like a wheel. Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports: and the +hub big: college. Something to catch the eye. + +There’s Hornblower standing at the porter’s lodge. Keep him on hands: +might take a turn in there on the nod. How do you do, Mr Hornblower? +How do you do, sir? + +Heavenly weather really. If life was always like that. Cricket weather. +Sit around under sunshades. Over after over. Out. They can’t play it +here. Duck for six wickets. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the +Kildare street club with a slog to square leg. Donnybrook fair more in +their line. And the skulls we were acracking when M’Carthy took the +floor. Heatwave. Won’t last. Always passing, the stream of life, which +in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all. + +Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the gentle tepid +stream. This is my body. + +He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full, naked, in a womb of +warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. He saw his trunk +and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, +lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of +his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father +of thousands, a languid floating flower. + + +[ 6 ] + +Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the creaking +carriage and, entering deftly, seated himself. Mr Power stepped in +after him, curving his height with care. + +—Come on, Simon. + +—After you, Mr Bloom said. + +Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, saying: + +—Yes, yes. + +—Are we all here now? Martin Cunningham asked. Come along, Bloom. + +Mr Bloom entered and sat in the vacant place. He pulled the door to +after him and slammed it twice till it shut tight. He passed an arm +through the armstrap and looked seriously from the open carriagewindow +at the lowered blinds of the avenue. One dragged aside: an old woman +peeping. Nose whiteflattened against the pane. Thanking her stars she +was passed over. Extraordinary the interest they take in a corpse. Glad +to see us go we give them such trouble coming. Job seems to suit them. +Huggermugger in corners. Slop about in slipperslappers for fear he’d +wake. Then getting it ready. Laying it out. Molly and Mrs Fleming +making the bed. Pull it more to your side. Our windingsheet. Never know +who will touch you dead. Wash and shampoo. I believe they clip the +nails and the hair. Keep a bit in an envelope. Grows all the same +after. Unclean job. + +All waited. Nothing was said. Stowing in the wreaths probably. I am +sitting on something hard. Ah, that soap: in my hip pocket. Better +shift it out of that. Wait for an opportunity. + +All waited. Then wheels were heard from in front, turning: then nearer: +then horses’ hoofs. A jolt. Their carriage began to move, creaking and +swaying. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. The blinds of +the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. +At walking pace. + +They waited still, their knees jogging, till they had turned and were +passing along the tramtracks. Tritonville road. Quicker. The wheels +rattled rolling over the cobbled causeway and the crazy glasses shook +rattling in the doorframes. + +—What way is he taking us? Mr Power asked through both windows. + +—Irishtown, Martin Cunningham said. Ringsend. Brunswick street. + +Mr Dedalus nodded, looking out. + +—That’s a fine old custom, he said. I am glad to see it has not died +out. + +All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by +passers. Respect. The carriage swerved from the tramtrack to the +smoother road past Watery lane. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, +clad in mourning, a wide hat. + +—There’s a friend of yours gone by, Dedalus, he said. + +—Who is that? + +—Your son and heir. + +—Where is he? Mr Dedalus said, stretching over across. + +The carriage, passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway +before the tenement houses, lurched round the corner and, swerving back +to the tramtrack, rolled on noisily with chattering wheels. Mr Dedalus +fell back, saying: + +—Was that Mulligan cad with him? His _fidus Achates_! + +—No, Mr Bloom said. He was alone. + +—Down with his aunt Sally, I suppose, Mr Dedalus said, the Goulding +faction, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa’s little lump +of dung, the wise child that knows her own father. + +Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. Wallace Bros: the +bottleworks: Dodder bridge. + +Richie Goulding and the legal bag. Goulding, Collis and Ward he calls +the firm. His jokes are getting a bit damp. Great card he was. Waltzing +in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday morning, the +landlady’s two hats pinned on his head. Out on the rampage all night. +Beginning to tell on him now: that backache of his, I fear. Wife +ironing his back. Thinks he’ll cure it with pills. All breadcrumbs they +are. About six hundred per cent profit. + +—He’s in with a lowdown crowd, Mr Dedalus snarled. That Mulligan is a +contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. His name stinks +all over Dublin. But with the help of God and His blessed mother I’ll +make it my business to write a letter one of those days to his mother +or his aunt or whatever she is that will open her eye as wide as a +gate. I’ll tickle his catastrophe, believe you me. + +He cried above the clatter of the wheels: + +—I won’t have her bastard of a nephew ruin my son. A counterjumper’s +son. Selling tapes in my cousin, Peter Paul M’Swiney’s. Not likely. + +He ceased. Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Power’s mild +face and Martin Cunningham’s eyes and beard, gravely shaking. Noisy +selfwilled man. Full of his son. He is right. Something to hand on. If +little Rudy had lived. See him grow up. Hear his voice in the house. +Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit. My son. Me in his eyes. Strange +feeling it would be. From me. Just a chance. Must have been that +morning in Raymond terrace she was at the window watching the two dogs +at it by the wall of the cease to do evil. And the sergeant grinning +up. She had that cream gown on with the rip she never stitched. Give us +a touch, Poldy. God, I’m dying for it. How life begins. + +Got big then. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. My son inside her. +I could have helped him on in life. I could. Make him independent. +Learn German too. + +—Are we late? Mr Power asked. + +—Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said, looking at his watch. + +Molly. Milly. Same thing watered down. Her tomboy oaths. O jumping +Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Still, she’s a dear girl. Soon be a +woman. Mullingar. Dearest Papli. Young student. Yes, yes: a woman too. +Life, life. + +The carriage heeled over and back, their four trunks swaying. + +—Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Power said. + +—He might, Mr Dedalus said, if he hadn’t that squint troubling him. Do +you follow me? + +He closed his left eye. Martin Cunningham began to brush away +crustcrumbs from under his thighs. + +—What is this, he said, in the name of God? Crumbs? + +—Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here lately, Mr Power +said. + +All raised their thighs and eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless +leather of the seats. Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward +and said: + +—Unless I’m greatly mistaken. What do you think, Martin? + +—It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said. + +Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Glad I took that bath. Feel my feet quite +clean. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. + +Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly. + +—After all, he said, it’s the most natural thing in the world. + +—Did Tom Kernan turn up? Martin Cunningham asked, twirling the peak of +his beard gently. + +—Yes, Mr Bloom answered. He’s behind with Ned Lambert and Hynes. + +—And Corny Kelleher himself? Mr Power asked. + +—At the cemetery, Martin Cunningham said. + +—I met M’Coy this morning, Mr Bloom said. He said he’d try to come. + +The carriage halted short. + +—What’s wrong? + +—We’re stopped. + +—Where are we? + +Mr Bloom put his head out of the window. + +—The grand canal, he said. + +Gasworks. Whooping cough they say it cures. Good job Milly never got +it. Poor children! Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions. Shame +really. Got off lightly with illnesses compared. Only measles. Flaxseed +tea. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Canvassing for death. Don’t miss +this chance. Dogs’ home over there. Poor old Athos! Be good to Athos, +Leopold, is my last wish. Thy will be done. We obey them in the grave. +A dying scrawl. He took it to heart, pined away. Quiet brute. Old men’s +dogs usually are. + +A raindrop spat on his hat. He drew back and saw an instant of shower +spray dots over the grey flags. Apart. Curious. Like through a +colander. I thought it would. My boots were creaking I remember now. + +—The weather is changing, he said quietly. + +—A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said. + +—Wanted for the country, Mr Power said. There’s the sun again coming +out. + +Mr Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun, hurled +a mute curse at the sky. + +—It’s as uncertain as a child’s bottom, he said. + +—We’re off again. + +The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed +gently. Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard. + +—Tom Kernan was immense last night, he said. And Paddy Leonard taking +him off to his face. + +—O, draw him out, Martin, Mr Power said eagerly. Wait till you hear +him, Simon, on Ben Dollard’s singing of _The Croppy Boy_. + +—Immense, Martin Cunningham said pompously. _His singing of that simple +ballad, Martin, is the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the +whole course of my experience._ + +—Trenchant, Mr Power said laughing. He’s dead nuts on that. And the +retrospective arrangement. + +—Did you read Dan Dawson’s speech? Martin Cunningham asked. + +—I did not then, Mr Dedalus said. Where is it? + +—In the paper this morning. + +Mr Bloom took the paper from his inside pocket. That book I must change +for her. + +—No, no, Mr Dedalus said quickly. Later on please. + +Mr Bloom’s glance travelled down the edge of the paper, scanning the +deaths: Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what +Peake is that? is it the chap was in Crosbie and Alleyne’s? no, Sexton, +Urbright. Inked characters fast fading on the frayed breaking paper. +Thanks to the Little Flower. Sadly missed. To the inexpressible grief +of his. Aged 88 after a long and tedious illness. Month’s mind: +Quinlan. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy. + + It is now a month since dear Henry fled + To his home up above in the sky + While his family weeps and mourns his loss + Hoping some day to meet him on high. + +I tore up the envelope? Yes. Where did I put her letter after I read it +in the bath? He patted his waistcoatpocket. There all right. Dear Henry +fled. Before my patience are exhausted. + +National school. Meade’s yard. The hazard. Only two there now. Nodding. +Full as a tick. Too much bone in their skulls. The other trotting round +with a fare. An hour ago I was passing there. The jarvies raised their +hats. + +A pointsman’s back straightened itself upright suddenly against a +tramway standard by Mr Bloom’s window. Couldn’t they invent something +automatic so that the wheel itself much handier? Well but that fellow +would lose his job then? Well but then another fellow would get a job +making the new invention? + +Antient concert rooms. Nothing on there. A man in a buff suit with a +crape armlet. Not much grief there. Quarter mourning. People in law +perhaps. + +They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark’s, under the railway +bridge, past the Queen’s theatre: in silence. Hoardings: Eugene +Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Could I go to see _Leah_ tonight, I +wonder. I said I. Or the _Lily of Killarney_? Elster Grimes Opera +Company. Big powerful change. Wet bright bills for next week. _Fun on +the Bristol_. Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the Gaiety. Have +to stand a drink or two. As broad as it’s long. + +He’s coming in the afternoon. Her songs. + +Plasto’s. Sir Philip Crampton’s memorial fountain bust. Who was he? + +—How do you do? Martin Cunningham said, raising his palm to his brow in +salute. + +—He doesn’t see us, Mr Power said. Yes, he does. How do you do? + +—Who? Mr Dedalus asked. + +—Blazes Boylan, Mr Power said. There he is airing his quiff. + +Just that moment I was thinking. + +Mr Dedalus bent across to salute. From the door of the Red Bank the +white disc of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. + +Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his left hand, then those of his right +hand. The nails, yes. Is there anything more in him that they she sees? +Fascination. Worst man in Dublin. That keeps him alive. They sometimes +feel what a person is. Instinct. But a type like that. My nails. I am +just looking at them: well pared. And after: thinking alone. Body +getting a bit softy. I would notice that: from remembering. What causes +that? I suppose the skin can’t contract quickly enough when the flesh +falls off. But the shape is there. The shape is there still. Shoulders. +Hips. Plump. Night of the dance dressing. Shift stuck between the +cheeks behind. + +He clasped his hands between his knees and, satisfied, sent his vacant +glance over their faces. + +Mr Power asked: + +—How is the concert tour getting on, Bloom? + +—O, very well, Mr Bloom said. I hear great accounts of it. It’s a good +idea, you see... + +—Are you going yourself? + +—Well no, Mr Bloom said. In point of fact I have to go down to the +county Clare on some private business. You see the idea is to tour the +chief towns. What you lose on one you can make up on the other. + +—Quite so, Martin Cunningham said. Mary Anderson is up there now. + +Have you good artists? + +—Louis Werner is touring her, Mr Bloom said. O yes, we’ll have all +topnobbers. J. C. Doyle and John MacCormack I hope and. The best, in +fact. + +—And _Madame_, Mr Power said smiling. Last but not least. + +Mr Bloom unclasped his hands in a gesture of soft politeness and +clasped them. Smith O’Brien. Someone has laid a bunch of flowers there. +Woman. Must be his deathday. For many happy returns. The carriage +wheeling by Farrell’s statue united noiselessly their unresisting +knees. + +Oot: a dullgarbed old man from the curbstone tendered his wares, his +mouth opening: oot. + +—Four bootlaces for a penny. + +Wonder why he was struck off the rolls. Had his office in Hume street. +Same house as Molly’s namesake, Tweedy, crown solicitor for Waterford. +Has that silk hat ever since. Relics of old decency. Mourning too. +Terrible comedown, poor wretch! Kicked about like snuff at a wake. +O’Callaghan on his last legs. + +And _Madame_. Twenty past eleven. Up. Mrs Fleming is in to clean. Doing +her hair, humming: _voglio e non vorrei_. No: _vorrei e non_. Looking +at the tips of her hairs to see if they are split. _Mi trema un poco +il_. Beautiful on that _tre_ her voice is: weeping tone. A thrush. A +throstle. There is a word throstle that expresses that. + +His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power’s goodlooking face. Greyish over +the ears. _Madame_: smiling. I smiled back. A smile goes a long way. +Only politeness perhaps. Nice fellow. Who knows is that true about the +woman he keeps? Not pleasant for the wife. Yet they say, who was it +told me, there is no carnal. You would imagine that would get played +out pretty quick. Yes, it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her +a pound of rumpsteak. What is this she was? Barmaid in Jury’s. Or the +Moira, was it? + +They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator’s form. + +Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power. + +—Of the tribe of Reuben, he said. + +A tall blackbearded figure, bent on a stick, stumping round the corner +of Elvery’s Elephant house, showed them a curved hand open on his +spine. + +—In all his pristine beauty, Mr Power said. + +Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly: + +—The devil break the hasp of your back! + +Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face from the window as +the carriage passed Gray’s statue. + +—We have all been there, Martin Cunningham said broadly. + +His eyes met Mr Bloom’s eyes. He caressed his beard, adding: + +—Well, nearly all of us. + +Mr Bloom began to speak with sudden eagerness to his companions’ faces. + +—That’s an awfully good one that’s going the rounds about Reuben J and +the son. + +—About the boatman? Mr Power asked. + +—Yes. Isn’t it awfully good? + +—What is that? Mr Dedalus asked. I didn’t hear it. + +—There was a girl in the case, Mr Bloom began, and he determined to +send him to the Isle of Man out of harm’s way but when they were +both..... + +—What? Mr Dedalus asked. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it? + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said. They were both on the way to the boat and he tried +to drown..... + +—Drown Barabbas! Mr Dedalus cried. I wish to Christ he did! + +Mr Power sent a long laugh down his shaded nostrils. + +—No, Mr Bloom said, the son himself..... + +Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely: + +—Reuben J and the son were piking it down the quay next the river on +their way to the Isle of Man boat and the young chiseller suddenly got +loose and over the wall with him into the Liffey. + +—For God’s sake! Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Is he dead? + +—Dead! Martin Cunningham cried. Not he! A boatman got a pole and fished +him out by the slack of the breeches and he was landed up to the father +on the quay more dead than alive. Half the town was there. + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said. But the funny part is..... + +—And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said, gave the boatman a florin for +saving his son’s life. + +A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power’s hand. + +—O, he did, Martin Cunningham affirmed. Like a hero. A silver florin. + +—Isn’t it awfully good? Mr Bloom said eagerly. + +—One and eightpence too much, Mr Dedalus said drily. + +Mr Power’s choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage. + +Nelson’s pillar. + +—Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny! + +—We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said. + +Mr Dedalus sighed. + +—Ah then indeed, he said, poor little Paddy wouldn’t grudge us a laugh. +Many a good one he told himself. + +—The Lord forgive me! Mr Power said, wiping his wet eyes with his +fingers. Poor Paddy! I little thought a week ago when I saw him last +and he was in his usual health that I’d be driving after him like this. +He’s gone from us. + +—As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, Mr Dedalus said. He went +very suddenly. + +—Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. Heart. + +He tapped his chest sadly. + +Blazing face: redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red nose. +Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent +colouring it. + +Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension. + +—He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said. + +—The best death, Mr Bloom said. + +Their wide open eyes looked at him. + +—No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep. + +No-one spoke. + +Dead side of the street this. Dull business by day, land agents, +temperance hotel, Falconer’s railway guide, civil service college, +Gill’s, catholic club, the industrious blind. Why? Some reason. Sun or +wind. At night too. Chummies and slaveys. Under the patronage of the +late Father Mathew. Foundation stone for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart. + +White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda corner, +galloping. A tiny coffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A mourning +coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors. Dun for +a nun. + +—Sad, Martin Cunningham said. A child. + +A dwarf’s face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy’s was. Dwarf’s +body, weak as putty, in a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society +pays. Penny a week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant +nothing. Mistake of nature. If it’s healthy it’s from the mother. If +not from the man. Better luck next time. + +—Poor little thing, Mr Dedalus said. It’s well out of it. + +The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. Rattle his +bones. Over the stones. Only a pauper. Nobody owns. + +—In the midst of life, Martin Cunningham said. + +—But the worst of all, Mr Power said, is the man who takes his own +life. + +Martin Cunningham drew out his watch briskly, coughed and put it back. + +—The greatest disgrace to have in the family, Mr Power added. + +—Temporary insanity, of course, Martin Cunningham said decisively. We +must take a charitable view of it. + +—They say a man who does it is a coward, Mr Dedalus said. + +—It is not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said. + +Mr Bloom, about to speak, closed his lips again. Martin Cunningham’s +large eyes. Looking away now. Sympathetic human man he is. Intelligent. +Like Shakespeare’s face. Always a good word to say. They have no mercy +on that here or infanticide. Refuse christian burial. They used to +drive a stake of wood through his heart in the grave. As if it wasn’t +broken already. Yet sometimes they repent too late. Found in the +riverbed clutching rushes. He looked at me. And that awful drunkard of +a wife of his. Setting up house for her time after time and then +pawning the furniture on him every Saturday almost. Leading him the +life of the damned. Wear the heart out of a stone, that. Monday +morning. Start afresh. Shoulder to the wheel. Lord, she must have +looked a sight that night Dedalus told me he was in there. Drunk about +the place and capering with Martin’s umbrella. + + And they call me the jewel of Asia, + Of Asia, + The geisha. + +He looked away from me. He knows. Rattle his bones. + +That afternoon of the inquest. The redlabelled bottle on the table. The +room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Stuffy it was. Sunlight +through the slats of the Venetian blind. The coroner’s sunlit ears, big +and hairy. Boots giving evidence. Thought he was asleep first. Then saw +like yellow streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the +bed. Verdict: overdose. Death by misadventure. The letter. For my son +Leopold. + +No more pain. Wake no more. Nobody owns. + +The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. Over the stones. + +—We are going the pace, I think, Martin Cunningham said. + +—God grant he doesn’t upset us on the road, Mr Power said. + +—I hope not, Martin Cunningham said. That will be a great race tomorrow +in Germany. The Gordon Bennett. + +—Yes, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said. That will be worth seeing, faith. + +As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent +over and after them a rollicking rattling song of the halls. Has +anybody here seen Kelly? Kay ee double ell wy. Dead March from _Saul._ +He’s as bad as old Antonio. He left me on my ownio. Pirouette! The +_Mater Misericordiae_. Eccles street. My house down there. Big place. +Ward for incurables there. Very encouraging. Our Lady’s Hospice for the +dying. Deadhouse handy underneath. Where old Mrs Riordan died. They +look terrible the women. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the +spoon. Then the screen round her bed for her to die. Nice young student +that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. He’s gone over to the +lying-in hospital they told me. From one extreme to the other. + +The carriage galloped round a corner: stopped. + +—What’s wrong now? + +A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching +by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on their clotted bony +croups. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their +fear. + +—Emigrants, Mr Power said. + +—Huuuh! the drover’s voice cried, his switch sounding on their flanks. +Huuuh! out of that! + +Thursday, of course. Tomorrow is killing day. Springers. Cuffe sold +them about twentyseven quid each. For Liverpool probably. Roastbeef for +old England. They buy up all the juicy ones. And then the fifth quarter +lost: all that raw stuff, hide, hair, horns. Comes to a big thing in a +year. Dead meat trade. Byproducts of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, +soap, margarine. Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off +the train at Clonsilla. + +The carriage moved on through the drove. + +—I can’t make out why the corporation doesn’t run a tramline from the +parkgate to the quays, Mr Bloom said. All those animals could be taken +in trucks down to the boats. + +—Instead of blocking up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham said. Quite +right. They ought to. + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said, and another thing I often thought, is to have +municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you know. Run the line +out to the cemetery gates and have special trams, hearse and carriage +and all. Don’t you see what I mean? + +—O, that be damned for a story, Mr Dedalus said. Pullman car and saloon +diningroom. + +—A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Power added. + +—Why? Mr Bloom asked, turning to Mr Dedalus. Wouldn’t it be more decent +than galloping two abreast? + +—Well, there’s something in that, Mr Dedalus granted. + +—And, Martin Cunningham said, we wouldn’t have scenes like that when +the hearse capsized round Dunphy’s and upset the coffin on to the road. + +—That was terrible, Mr Power’s shocked face said, and the corpse fell +about the road. Terrible! + +—First round Dunphy’s, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Gordon Bennett cup. + +—Praises be to God! Martin Cunningham said piously. + +Bom! Upset. A coffin bumped out on to the road. Burst open. Paddy +Dignam shot out and rolling over stiff in the dust in a brown habit too +large for him. Red face: grey now. Mouth fallen open. Asking what’s up +now. Quite right to close it. Looks horrid open. Then the insides +decompose quickly. Much better to close up all the orifices. Yes, also. +With wax. The sphincter loose. Seal up all. + +—Dunphy’s, Mr Power announced as the carriage turned right. + +Dunphy’s corner. Mourning coaches drawn up, drowning their grief. A +pause by the wayside. Tiptop position for a pub. Expect we’ll pull up +here on the way back to drink his health. Pass round the consolation. +Elixir of life. + +But suppose now it did happen. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in +the knocking about? He would and he wouldn’t, I suppose. Depends on +where. The circulation stops. Still some might ooze out of an artery. +It would be better to bury them in red: a dark red. + +In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. An empty hearse trotted +by, coming from the cemetery: looks relieved. + +Crossguns bridge: the royal canal. + +Water rushed roaring through the sluices. A man stood on his dropping +barge, between clamps of turf. On the towpath by the lock a +slacktethered horse. Aboard of the _Bugabu._ + +Their eyes watched him. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on +his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of +reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. Athlone, Mullingar, +Moyvalley, I could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. Or +cycle down. Hire some old crock, safety. Wren had one the other day at +the auction but a lady’s. Developing waterways. James M’Cann’s hobby to +row me o’er the ferry. Cheaper transit. By easy stages. Houseboats. +Camping out. Also hearses. To heaven by water. Perhaps I will without +writing. Come as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. Dropping down lock by +lock to Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs. Salute. He lifted his +brown straw hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. + +They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. Near it now. + +—I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Power said. + +—Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said. + +—How is that? Martin Cunningham said. Left him weeping, I suppose? + +—Though lost to sight, Mr Dedalus said, to memory dear. + +The carriage steered left for Finglas road. + +The stonecutter’s yard on the right. Last lap. Crowded on the spit of +land silent shapes appeared, white, sorrowful, holding out calm hands, +knelt in grief, pointing. Fragments of shapes, hewn. In white silence: +appealing. The best obtainable. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder +and sculptor. + +Passed. + +On the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the sexton’s, an old tramp sat, +grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of his huge dustbrown +yawning boot. After life’s journey. + +Gloomy gardens then went by: one by one: gloomy houses. + +Mr Power pointed. + +—That is where Childs was murdered, he said. The last house. + +—So it is, Mr Dedalus said. A gruesome case. Seymour Bushe got him off. +Murdered his brother. Or so they said. + +—The crown had no evidence, Mr Power said. + +—Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham added. That’s the maxim of the +law. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent +person to be wrongfully condemned. + +They looked. Murderer’s ground. It passed darkly. Shuttered, +tenantless, unweeded garden. Whole place gone to hell. Wrongfully +condemned. Murder. The murderer’s image in the eye of the murdered. +They love reading about it. Man’s head found in a garden. Her clothing +consisted of. How she met her death. Recent outrage. The weapon used. +Murderer is still at large. Clues. A shoelace. The body to be exhumed. +Murder will out. + +Cramped in this carriage. She mightn’t like me to come that way without +letting her know. Must be careful about women. Catch them once with +their pants down. Never forgive you after. Fifteen. + +The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. Dark poplars, +rare white forms. Forms more frequent, white shapes thronged amid the +trees, white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain +gestures on the air. + +The felly harshed against the curbstone: stopped. Martin Cunningham put +out his arm and, wrenching back the handle, shoved the door open with +his knee. He stepped out. Mr Power and Mr Dedalus followed. + +Change that soap now. Mr Bloom’s hand unbuttoned his hip pocket swiftly +and transferred the paperstuck soap to his inner handkerchief pocket. +He stepped out of the carriage, replacing the newspaper his other hand +still held. + +Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. It’s all the same. +Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley. Pomp of death. +Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and +fruit. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the dead. +Dogbiscuits. Who ate them? Mourners coming out. + +He followed his companions. Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert followed, Hynes +walking after them. Corny Kelleher stood by the opened hearse and took +out the two wreaths. He handed one to the boy. + +Where is that child’s funeral disappeared to? + +A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread, +dragging through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay a +granite block. The waggoner marching at their head saluted. + +Coffin now. Got here before us, dead as he is. Horse looking round at +it with his plume skeowways. Dull eye: collar tight on his neck, +pressing on a bloodvessel or something. Do they know what they cart out +here every day? Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day. Then Mount +Jerome for the protestants. Funerals all over the world everywhere +every minute. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. +Thousands every hour. Too many in the world. + +Mourners came out through the gates: woman and a girl. Leanjawed harpy, +hard woman at a bargain, her bonnet awry. Girl’s face stained with dirt +and tears, holding the woman’s arm, looking up at her for a sign to +cry. Fish’s face, bloodless and livid. + +The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in through the gates. So +much dead weight. Felt heavier myself stepping out of that bath. First +the stiff: then the friends of the stiff. Corny Kelleher and the boy +followed with their wreaths. Who is that beside them? Ah, the +brother-in-law. + +All walked after. + +Martin Cunningham whispered: + +—I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom. + +—What? Mr Power whispered. How so? + +—His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham whispered. Had the +Queen’s hotel in Ennis. You heard him say he was going to Clare. +Anniversary. + +—O God! Mr Power whispered. First I heard of it. Poisoned himself? + +He glanced behind him to where a face with dark thinking eyes followed +towards the cardinal’s mausoleum. Speaking. + +—Was he insured? Mr Bloom asked. + +—I believe so, Mr Kernan answered. But the policy was heavily +mortgaged. Martin is trying to get the youngster into Artane. + +—How many children did he leave? + +—Five. Ned Lambert says he’ll try to get one of the girls into Todd’s. + +—A sad case, Mr Bloom said gently. Five young children. + +—A great blow to the poor wife, Mr Kernan added. + +—Indeed yes, Mr Bloom agreed. + +Has the laugh at him now. + +He looked down at the boots he had blacked and polished. She had +outlived him. Lost her husband. More dead for her than for me. One must +outlive the other. Wise men say. There are more women than men in the +world. Condole with her. Your terrible loss. I hope you’ll soon follow +him. For Hindu widows only. She would marry another. Him? No. Yet who +knows after. Widowhood not the thing since the old queen died. Drawn on +a guncarriage. Victoria and Albert. Frogmore memorial mourning. But in +the end she put a few violets in her bonnet. Vain in her heart of +hearts. All for a shadow. Consort not even a king. Her son was the +substance. Something new to hope for not like the past she wanted back, +waiting. It never comes. One must go first: alone, under the ground: +and lie no more in her warm bed. + +—How are you, Simon? Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Haven’t +seen you for a month of Sundays. + +—Never better. How are all in Cork’s own town? + +—I was down there for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert +said. Same old six and eightpence. Stopped with Dick Tivy. + +—And how is Dick, the solid man? + +—Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert answered. + +—By the holy Paul! Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Dick Tivy bald? + +—Martin is going to get up a whip for the youngsters, Ned Lambert said, +pointing ahead. A few bob a skull. Just to keep them going till the +insurance is cleared up. + +—Yes, yes, Mr Dedalus said dubiously. Is that the eldest boy in front? + +—Yes, Ned Lambert said, with the wife’s brother. John Henry Menton is +behind. He put down his name for a quid. + +—I’ll engage he did, Mr Dedalus said. I often told poor Paddy he ought +to mind that job. John Henry is not the worst in the world. + +—How did he lose it? Ned Lambert asked. Liquor, what? + +—Many a good man’s fault, Mr Dedalus said with a sigh. + +They halted about the door of the mortuary chapel. Mr Bloom stood +behind the boy with the wreath looking down at his sleekcombed hair and +at the slender furrowed neck inside his brandnew collar. Poor boy! Was +he there when the father? Both unconscious. Lighten up at the last +moment and recognise for the last time. All he might have done. I owe +three shillings to O’Grady. Would he understand? The mutes bore the +coffin into the chapel. Which end is his head? + +After a moment he followed the others in, blinking in the screened +light. The coffin lay on its bier before the chancel, four tall yellow +candles at its corners. Always in front of us. Corny Kelleher, laying a +wreath at each fore corner, beckoned to the boy to kneel. The mourners +knelt here and there in prayingdesks. Mr Bloom stood behind near the +font and, when all had knelt, dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper +from his pocket and knelt his right knee upon it. He fitted his black +hat gently on his left knee and, holding its brim, bent over piously. + +A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it came out through a +door. The whitesmocked priest came after him, tidying his stole with +one hand, balancing with the other a little book against his toad’s +belly. Who’ll read the book? I, said the rook. + +They halted by the bier and the priest began to read out of his book +with a fluent croak. + +Father Coffey. I knew his name was like a coffin. _Dominenamine._ Bully +about the muzzle he looks. Bosses the show. Muscular christian. Woe +betide anyone that looks crooked at him: priest. Thou art Peter. Burst +sideways like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. With a belly on +him like a poisoned pup. Most amusing expressions that man finds. Hhhn: +burst sideways. + +_—Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine._ + +Makes them feel more important to be prayed over in Latin. Requiem +mass. Crape weepers. Blackedged notepaper. Your name on the altarlist. +Chilly place this. Want to feed well, sitting in there all the morning +in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for the next please. Eyes of a +toad too. What swells him up that way? Molly gets swelled after +cabbage. Air of the place maybe. Looks full up of bad gas. Must be an +infernal lot of bad gas round the place. Butchers, for instance: they +get like raw beefsteaks. Who was telling me? Mervyn Browne. Down in the +vaults of saint Werburgh’s lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have +to bore a hole in the coffins sometimes to let out the bad gas and burn +it. Out it rushes: blue. One whiff of that and you’re a goner. + +My kneecap is hurting me. Ow. That’s better. + +The priest took a stick with a knob at the end of it out of the boy’s +bucket and shook it over the coffin. Then he walked to the other end +and shook it again. Then he came back and put it back in the bucket. As +you were before you rested. It’s all written down: he has to do it. + +_—Et ne nos inducas in tentationem._ + +The server piped the answers in the treble. I often thought it would be +better to have boy servants. Up to fifteen or so. After that, of course +... + +Holy water that was, I expect. Shaking sleep out of it. He must be fed +up with that job, shaking that thing over all the corpses they trot up. +What harm if he could see what he was shaking it over. Every mortal day +a fresh batch: middleaged men, old women, children, women dead in +childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls +with little sparrows’ breasts. All the year round he prayed the same +thing over them all and shook water on top of them: sleep. On Dignam +now. + +_—In paradisum._ + +Said he was going to paradise or is in paradise. Says that over +everybody. Tiresome kind of a job. But he has to say something. + +The priest closed his book and went off, followed by the server. Corny +Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the +coffin again, carried it out and shoved it on their cart. Corny +Kelleher gave one wreath to the boy and one to the brother-in-law. All +followed them out of the sidedoors into the mild grey air. Mr Bloom +came last folding his paper again into his pocket. He gazed gravely at +the ground till the coffincart wheeled off to the left. The metal +wheels ground the gravel with a sharp grating cry and the pack of blunt +boots followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres. + +The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Lord, I mustn’t lilt here. + +—The O’Connell circle, Mr Dedalus said about him. + +Mr Power’s soft eyes went up to the apex of the lofty cone. + +—He’s at rest, he said, in the middle of his people, old Dan O’. But +his heart is buried in Rome. How many broken hearts are buried here, +Simon! + +—Her grave is over there, Jack, Mr Dedalus said. I’ll soon be stretched +beside her. Let Him take me whenever He likes. + +Breaking down, he began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little +in his walk. Mr Power took his arm. + +—She’s better where she is, he said kindly. + +—I suppose so, Mr Dedalus said with a weak gasp. I suppose she is in +heaven if there is a heaven. + +Corny Kelleher stepped aside from his rank and allowed the mourners to +plod by. + +—Sad occasions, Mr Kernan began politely. + +Mr Bloom closed his eyes and sadly twice bowed his head. + +—The others are putting on their hats, Mr Kernan said. I suppose we can +do so too. We are the last. This cemetery is a treacherous place. + +They covered their heads. + +—The reverend gentleman read the service too quickly, don’t you think? +Mr Kernan said with reproof. + +Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the quick bloodshot eyes. Secret +eyes, secretsearching. Mason, I think: not sure. Beside him again. We +are the last. In the same boat. Hope he’ll say something else. + +Mr Kernan added: + +—The service of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome is simpler, more +impressive I must say. + +Mr Bloom gave prudent assent. The language of course was another thing. + +Mr Kernan said with solemnity: + +—_I am the resurrection and the life_. That touches a man’s inmost +heart. + +—It does, Mr Bloom said. + +Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the six feet by two +with his toes to the daisies? No touching that. Seat of the affections. +Broken heart. A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood +every day. One fine day it gets bunged up: and there you are. Lots of +them lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. Old rusty pumps: damn +the thing else. The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you +are dead. That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. +Come forth, Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. Get up! Last +day! Then every fellow mousing around for his liver and his lights and +the rest of his traps. Find damn all of himself that morning. +Pennyweight of powder in a skull. Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Troy +measure. + +Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side. + +—Everything went off A1, he said. What? + +He looked on them from his drawling eye. Policeman’s shoulders. With +your tooraloom tooraloom. + +—As it should be, Mr Kernan said. + +—What? Eh? Corny Kelleher said. + +Mr Kernan assured him. + +—Who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan? John Henry Menton asked. I +know his face. + +Ned Lambert glanced back. + +—Bloom, he said, Madame Marion Tweedy that was, is, I mean, the +soprano. She’s his wife. + +—O, to be sure, John Henry Menton said. I haven’t seen her for some +time. She was a finelooking woman. I danced with her, wait, fifteen +seventeen golden years ago, at Mat Dillon’s in Roundtown. And a good +armful she was. + +He looked behind through the others. + +—What is he? he asked. What does he do? Wasn’t he in the stationery +line? I fell foul of him one evening, I remember, at bowls. + +Ned Lambert smiled. + +—Yes, he was, he said, in Wisdom Hely’s. A traveller for blottingpaper. + +—In God’s name, John Henry Menton said, what did she marry a coon like +that for? She had plenty of game in her then. + +—Has still, Ned Lambert said. He does some canvassing for ads. + +John Henry Menton’s large eyes stared ahead. + +The barrow turned into a side lane. A portly man, ambushed among the +grasses, raised his hat in homage. The gravediggers touched their caps. + +—John O’Connell, Mr Power said pleased. He never forgets a friend. + +Mr O’Connell shook all their hands in silence. Mr Dedalus said: + +—I am come to pay you another visit. + +—My dear Simon, the caretaker answered in a low voice. I don’t want +your custom at all. + +Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin +Cunningham’s side puzzling two long keys at his back. + +—Did you hear that one, he asked them, about Mulcahy from the Coombe? + +—I did not, Martin Cunningham said. + +They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear. The +caretaker hung his thumbs in the loops of his gold watchchain and spoke +in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles. + +—They tell the story, he said, that two drunks came out here one foggy +evening to look for the grave of a friend of theirs. They asked for +Mulcahy from the Coombe and were told where he was buried. After +traipsing about in the fog they found the grave sure enough. One of the +drunks spelt out the name: Terence Mulcahy. The other drunk was +blinking up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. + +The caretaker blinked up at one of the sepulchres they passed. He +resumed: + +—And, after blinking up at the sacred figure, _Not a bloody bit like +the man_, says he. _That’s not Mulcahy_, says he, _whoever done it_. + +Rewarded by smiles he fell back and spoke with Corny Kelleher, +accepting the dockets given him, turning them over and scanning them as +he walked. + +—That’s all done with a purpose, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes. + +—I know, Hynes said. I know that. + +—To cheer a fellow up, Martin Cunningham said. It’s pure +goodheartedness: damn the thing else. + +Mr Bloom admired the caretaker’s prosperous bulk. All want to be on +good terms with him. Decent fellow, John O’Connell, real good sort. +Keys: like Keyes’s ad: no fear of anyone getting out. No passout +checks. _Habeas corpus_. I must see about that ad after the funeral. +Did I write Ballsbridge on the envelope I took to cover when she +disturbed me writing to Martha? Hope it’s not chucked in the dead +letter office. Be the better of a shave. Grey sprouting beard. That’s +the first sign when the hairs come out grey. And temper getting cross. +Silver threads among the grey. Fancy being his wife. Wonder he had the +gumption to propose to any girl. Come out and live in the graveyard. +Dangle that before her. It might thrill her first. Courting death. +Shades of night hovering here with all the dead stretched about. The +shadows of the tombs when churchyards yawn and Daniel O’Connell must be +a descendant I suppose who is this used to say he was a queer breedy +man great catholic all the same like a big giant in the dark. Will o’ +the wisp. Gas of graves. Want to keep her mind off it to conceive at +all. Women especially are so touchy. Tell her a ghost story in bed to +make her sleep. Have you ever seen a ghost? Well, I have. It was a +pitchdark night. The clock was on the stroke of twelve. Still they’d +kiss all right if properly keyed up. Whores in Turkish graveyards. +Learn anything if taken young. You might pick up a young widow here. +Men like that. Love among the tombstones. Romeo. Spice of pleasure. In +the midst of death we are in life. Both ends meet. Tantalising for the +poor dead. Smell of grilled beefsteaks to the starving. Gnawing their +vitals. Desire to grig people. Molly wanting to do it at the window. +Eight children he has anyway. + +He has seen a fair share go under in his time, lying around him field +after field. Holy fields. More room if they buried them standing. +Sitting or kneeling you couldn’t. Standing? His head might come up some +day above ground in a landslip with his hand pointing. All honeycombed +the ground must be: oblong cells. And very neat he keeps it too: trim +grass and edgings. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome. Well, so +it is. Ought to be flowers of sleep. Chinese cemeteries with giant +poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me. The Botanic +Gardens are just over there. It’s the blood sinking in the earth gives +new life. Same idea those jews they said killed the christian boy. +Every man his price. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, +invaluable for fruit garden. A bargain. By carcass of William +Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds +thirteen and six. With thanks. + +I daresay the soil would be quite fat with corpsemanure, bones, flesh, +nails. Charnelhouses. Dreadful. Turning green and pink decomposing. Rot +quick in damp earth. The lean old ones tougher. Then a kind of a +tallowy kind of a cheesy. Then begin to get black, black treacle oozing +out of them. Then dried up. Deathmoths. Of course the cells or whatever +they are go on living. Changing about. Live for ever practically. +Nothing to feed on feed on themselves. + +But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Soil must be simply +swirling with them. Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little +seaside gurls. He looks cheerful enough over it. Gives him a sense of +power seeing all the others go under first. Wonder how he looks at +life. Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his heart. The one +about the bulletin. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning. 11 +p.m. (closing time). Not arrived yet. Peter. The dead themselves the +men anyhow would like to hear an odd joke or the women to know what’s +in fashion. A juicy pear or ladies’ punch, hot, strong and sweet. Keep +out the damp. You must laugh sometimes so better do it that way. +Gravediggers in _Hamlet_. Shows the profound knowledge of the human +heart. Daren’t joke about the dead for two years at least. _De mortuis +nil nisi prius_. Go out of mourning first. Hard to imagine his funeral. +Seems a sort of a joke. Read your own obituary notice they say you live +longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life. + +—How many have you for tomorrow? the caretaker asked. + +—Two, Corny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven. + +The caretaker put the papers in his pocket. The barrow had ceased to +trundle. The mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, +stepping with care round the graves. The gravediggers bore the coffin +and set its nose on the brink, looping the bands round it. + +Burying him. We come to bury Cæsar. His ides of March or June. He +doesn’t know who is here nor care. Now who is that lankylooking galoot +over there in the macintosh? Now who is he I’d like to know? Now I’d +give a trifle to know who he is. Always someone turns up you never +dreamt of. A fellow could live on his lonesome all his life. Yes, he +could. Still he’d have to get someone to sod him after he died though +he could dig his own grave. We all do. Only man buries. No, ants too. +First thing strikes anybody. Bury the dead. Say Robinson Crusoe was +true to life. Well then Friday buried him. Every Friday buries a +Thursday if you come to look at it. + + O, poor Robinson Crusoe! + How could you possibly do so? + +Poor Dignam! His last lie on the earth in his box. When you think of +them all it does seem a waste of wood. All gnawed through. They could +invent a handsome bier with a kind of panel sliding, let it down that +way. Ay but they might object to be buried out of another fellow’s. +They’re so particular. Lay me in my native earth. Bit of clay from the +holy land. Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the one +coffin. I see what it means. I see. To protect him as long as possible +even in the earth. The Irishman’s house is his coffin. Embalming in +catacombs, mummies the same idea. + +Mr Bloom stood far back, his hat in his hand, counting the bared heads. +Twelve. I’m thirteen. No. The chap in the macintosh is thirteen. +Death’s number. Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn’t in the +chapel, that I’ll swear. Silly superstition that about thirteen. + +Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert has in that suit. Tinge of purple. I had +one like that when we lived in Lombard street west. Dressy fellow he +was once. Used to change three suits in the day. Must get that grey +suit of mine turned by Mesias. Hello. It’s dyed. His wife I forgot he’s +not married or his landlady ought to have picked out those threads for +him. + +The coffin dived out of sight, eased down by the men straddled on the +gravetrestles. They struggled up and out: and all uncovered. Twenty. + +Pause. + +If we were all suddenly somebody else. + +Far away a donkey brayed. Rain. No such ass. Never see a dead one, they +say. Shame of death. They hide. Also poor papa went away. + +Gentle sweet air blew round the bared heads in a whisper. Whisper. The +boy by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in +the black open space. Mr Bloom moved behind the portly kindly +caretaker. Wellcut frockcoat. Weighing them up perhaps to see which +will go next. Well, it is a long rest. Feel no more. It’s the moment +you feel. Must be damned unpleasant. Can’t believe it at first. Mistake +must be: someone else. Try the house opposite. Wait, I wanted to. I +haven’t yet. Then darkened deathchamber. Light they want. Whispering +around you. Would you like to see a priest? Then rambling and +wandering. Delirium all you hid all your life. The death struggle. His +sleep is not natural. Press his lower eyelid. Watching is his nose +pointed is his jaw sinking are the soles of his feet yellow. Pull the +pillow away and finish it off on the floor since he’s doomed. Devil in +that picture of sinner’s death showing him a woman. Dying to embrace +her in his shirt. Last act of _Lucia. Shall I nevermore behold thee_? +Bam! He expires. Gone at last. People talk about you a bit: forget you. +Don’t forget to pray for him. Remember him in your prayers. Even +Parnell. Ivy day dying out. Then they follow: dropping into a hole, one +after the other. + +We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Hoping you’re well and +not in hell. Nice change of air. Out of the fryingpan of life into the +fire of purgatory. + +Does he ever think of the hole waiting for himself? They say you do +when you shiver in the sun. Someone walking over it. Callboy’s warning. +Near you. Mine over there towards Finglas, the plot I bought. Mamma, +poor mamma, and little Rudy. + +The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in +on the coffin. Mr Bloom turned away his face. And if he was alive all +the time? Whew! By jingo, that would be awful! No, no: he is dead, of +course. Of course he is dead. Monday he died. They ought to have some +law to pierce the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a +telephone in the coffin and some kind of a canvas airhole. Flag of +distress. Three days. Rather long to keep them in summer. Just as well +to get shut of them as soon as you are sure there’s no. + +The clay fell softer. Begin to be forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind. + +The caretaker moved away a few paces and put on his hat. Had enough of +it. The mourners took heart of grace, one by one, covering themselves +without show. Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly figure make +its way deftly through the maze of graves. Quietly, sure of his ground, +he traversed the dismal fields. + +Hynes jotting down something in his notebook. Ah, the names. But he +knows them all. No: coming to me. + +—I am just taking the names, Hynes said below his breath. What is your +christian name? I’m not sure. + +—L, Mr Bloom said. Leopold. And you might put down M’Coy’s name too. He +asked me to. + +—Charley, Hynes said writing. I know. He was on the _Freeman_ once. + +So he was before he got the job in the morgue under Louis Byrne. Good +idea a postmortem for doctors. Find out what they imagine they know. He +died of a Tuesday. Got the run. Levanted with the cash of a few ads. +Charley, you’re my darling. That was why he asked me to. O well, does +no harm. I saw to that, M’Coy. Thanks, old chap: much obliged. Leave +him under an obligation: costs nothing. + +—And tell us, Hynes said, do you know that fellow in the, fellow was +over there in the... + +He looked around. + +—Macintosh. Yes, I saw him, Mr Bloom said. Where is he now? + +—M’Intosh, Hynes said scribbling. I don’t know who he is. Is that his +name? + +He moved away, looking about him. + +—No, Mr Bloom began, turning and stopping. I say, Hynes! + +Didn’t hear. What? Where has he disappeared to? Not a sign. Well of all +the. Has anybody here seen? Kay ee double ell. Become invisible. Good +Lord, what became of him? + +A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade. + +—O, excuse me! + +He stepped aside nimbly. + +Clay, brown, damp, began to be seen in the hole. It rose. Nearly over. +A mound of damp clods rose more, rose, and the gravediggers rested +their spades. All uncovered again for a few instants. The boy propped +his wreath against a corner: the brother-in-law his on a lump. The +gravediggers put on their caps and carried their earthy spades towards +the barrow. Then knocked the blades lightly on the turf: clean. One +bent to pluck from the haft a long tuft of grass. One, leaving his +mates, walked slowly on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing. +Silently at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. His navelcord. +The brother-in-law, turning away, placed something in his free hand. +Thanks in silence. Sorry, sir: trouble. Headshake. I know that. For +yourselves just. + +The mourners moved away slowly without aim, by devious paths, staying +at whiles to read a name on a tomb. + +—Let us go round by the chief’s grave, Hynes said. We have time. + +—Let us, Mr Power said. + +They turned to the right, following their slow thoughts. With awe Mr +Power’s blank voice spoke: + +—Some say he is not in that grave at all. That the coffin was filled +with stones. That one day he will come again. + +Hynes shook his head. + +—Parnell will never come again, he said. He’s there, all that was +mortal of him. Peace to his ashes. + +Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, +broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, +old Ireland’s hearts and hands. More sensible to spend the money on +some charity for the living. Pray for the repose of the soul of. Does +anybody really? Plant him and have done with him. Like down a +coalshoot. Then lump them together to save time. All souls’ day. +Twentyseventh I’ll be at his grave. Ten shillings for the gardener. He +keeps it free of weeds. Old man himself. Bent down double with his +shears clipping. Near death’s door. Who passed away. Who departed this +life. As if they did it of their own accord. Got the shove, all of +them. Who kicked the bucket. More interesting if they told you what +they were. So and So, wheelwright. I travelled for cork lino. I paid +five shillings in the pound. Or a woman’s with her saucepan. I cooked +good Irish stew. Eulogy in a country churchyard it ought to be that +poem of whose is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell. Entered into rest +the protestants put it. Old Dr Murren’s. The great physician called him +home. Well it’s God’s acre for them. Nice country residence. Newly +plastered and painted. Ideal spot to have a quiet smoke and read the +_Church Times._ Marriage ads they never try to beautify. Rusty wreaths +hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. Better value that for the money. +Still, the flowers are more poetical. The other gets rather tiresome, +never withering. Expresses nothing. Immortelles. + +A bird sat tamely perched on a poplar branch. Like stuffed. Like the +wedding present alderman Hooper gave us. Hoo! Not a budge out of him. +Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him. Dead animal even +sadder. Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the kitchen +matchbox, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the grave. + +The Sacred Heart that is: showing it. Heart on his sleeve. Ought to be +sideways and red it should be painted like a real heart. Ireland was +dedicated to it or whatever that. Seems anything but pleased. Why this +infliction? Would birds come then and peck like the boy with the basket +of fruit but he said no because they ought to have been afraid of the +boy. Apollo that was. + +How many! All these here once walked round Dublin. Faithful departed. +As you are now so once were we. + +Besides how could you remember everybody? Eyes, walk, voice. Well, the +voice, yes: gramophone. Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it in +the house. After dinner on a Sunday. Put on poor old greatgrandfather. +Kraahraark! Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygladaseeagain +hellohello amawf krpthsth. Remind you of the voice like the photograph +reminds you of the face. Otherwise you couldn’t remember the face after +fifteen years, say. For instance who? For instance some fellow that +died when I was in Wisdom Hely’s. + +Rtststr! A rattle of pebbles. Wait. Stop! + +He looked down intently into a stone crypt. Some animal. Wait. There he +goes. + +An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the crypt, moving the +pebbles. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he knows the ropes. The grey +alive crushed itself in under the plinth, wriggled itself in under it. +Good hidingplace for treasure. + +Who lives there? Are laid the remains of Robert Emery. Robert Emmet was +buried here by torchlight, wasn’t he? Making his rounds. + +Tail gone now. + +One of those chaps would make short work of a fellow. Pick the bones +clean no matter who it was. Ordinary meat for them. A corpse is meat +gone bad. Well and what’s cheese? Corpse of milk. I read in that +_Voyages in China_ that the Chinese say a white man smells like a +corpse. Cremation better. Priests dead against it. Devilling for the +other firm. Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Time of the +plague. Quicklime feverpits to eat them. Lethal chamber. Ashes to +ashes. Or bury at sea. Where is that Parsee tower of silence? Eaten by +birds. Earth, fire, water. Drowning they say is the pleasantest. See +your whole life in a flash. But being brought back to life no. Can’t +bury in the air however. Out of a flying machine. Wonder does the news +go about whenever a fresh one is let down. Underground communication. +We learned that from them. Wouldn’t be surprised. Regular square feed +for them. Flies come before he’s well dead. Got wind of Dignam. They +wouldn’t care about the smell of it. Saltwhite crumbling mush of +corpse: smell, taste like raw white turnips. + +The gates glimmered in front: still open. Back to the world again. +Enough of this place. Brings you a bit nearer every time. Last time I +was here was Mrs Sinico’s funeral. Poor papa too. The love that kills. +And even scraping up the earth at night with a lantern like that case I +read of to get at fresh buried females or even putrefied with running +gravesores. Give you the creeps after a bit. I will appear to you after +death. You will see my ghost after death. My ghost will haunt you after +death. There is another world after death named hell. I do not like +that other world she wrote. No more do I. Plenty to see and hear and +feel yet. Feel live warm beings near you. Let them sleep in their +maggoty beds. They are not going to get me this innings. Warm beds: +warm fullblooded life. + +Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking gravely. + +Solicitor, I think. I know his face. Menton, John Henry, solicitor, +commissioner for oaths and affidavits. Dignam used to be in his office. +Mat Dillon’s long ago. Jolly Mat. Convivial evenings. Cold fowl, +cigars, the Tantalus glasses. Heart of gold really. Yes, Menton. Got +his rag out that evening on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside +him. Pure fluke of mine: the bias. Why he took such a rooted dislike to +me. Hate at first sight. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the +lilactree, laughing. Fellow always like that, mortified if women are +by. + +Got a dinge in the side of his hat. Carriage probably. + +—Excuse me, sir, Mr Bloom said beside them. + +They stopped. + +—Your hat is a little crushed, Mr Bloom said pointing. + +John Henry Menton stared at him for an instant without moving. + +—There, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing also. + +John Henry Menton took off his hat, bulged out the dinge and smoothed +the nap with care on his coatsleeve. He clapped the hat on his head +again. + +—It’s all right now, Martin Cunningham said. + +John Henry Menton jerked his head down in acknowledgment. + +—Thank you, he said shortly. + +They walked on towards the gates. Mr Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a +few paces so as not to overhear. Martin laying down the law. Martin +could wind a sappyhead like that round his little finger, without his +seeing it. + +Oyster eyes. Never mind. Be sorry after perhaps when it dawns on him. +Get the pull over him that way. + +Thank you. How grand we are this morning! + + +[ 7 ] + +IN THE HEART OF THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS + + +Before Nelson’s pillar trams slowed, shunted, changed trolley, started +for Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Clonskea, Rathgar and Terenure, +Palmerston Park and upper Rathmines, Sandymount Green, Rathmines, +Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Harold’s Cross. The hoarse Dublin United +Tramway Company’s timekeeper bawled them off: + +—Rathgar and Terenure! + +—Come on, Sandymount Green! + +Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a +singledeck moved from their railheads, swerved to the down line, glided +parallel. + +—Start, Palmerston Park! + +THE WEARER OF THE CROWN + + +Under the porch of the general post office shoeblacks called and +polished. Parked in North Prince’s street His Majesty’s vermilion +mailcars, bearing on their sides the royal initials, E. R., received +loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels, insured +and paid, for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery. + +GENTLEMEN OF THE PRESS + + +Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince’s stores +and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped +dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince’s +stores. + +—There it is, Red Murray said. Alexander Keyes. + +—Just cut it out, will you? Mr Bloom said, and I’ll take it round to +the _Telegraph_ office. + +The door of Ruttledge’s office creaked again. Davy Stephens, minute in +a large capecoat, a small felt hat crowning his ringlets, passed out +with a roll of papers under his cape, a king’s courier. + +Red Murray’s long shears sliced out the advertisement from the +newspaper in four clean strokes. Scissors and paste. + +—I’ll go through the printingworks, Mr Bloom said, taking the cut +square. + +—Of course, if he wants a par, Red Murray said earnestly, a pen behind +his ear, we can do him one. + +—Right, Mr Bloom said with a nod. I’ll rub that in. + +We. + +WILLIAM BRAYDEN, ESQUIRE, OF OAKLANDS, SANDYMOUNT + + +Red Murray touched Mr Bloom’s arm with the shears and whispered: + +—Brayden. + +Mr Bloom turned and saw the liveried porter raise his lettered cap as a +stately figure entered between the newsboards of the _Weekly Freeman +and National Press_ and the _Freeman’s Journal and National Press_. +Dullthudding Guinness’s barrels. It passed statelily up the staircase, +steered by an umbrella, a solemn beardframed face. The broadcloth back +ascended each step: back. All his brains are in the nape of his neck, +Simon Dedalus says. Welts of flesh behind on him. Fat folds of neck, +fat, neck, fat, neck. + +—Don’t you think his face is like Our Saviour? Red Murray whispered. + +The door of Ruttledge’s office whispered: ee: cree. They always build +one door opposite another for the wind to. Way in. Way out. + +Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the dusk. Mary, Martha. +Steered by an umbrella sword to the footlights: Mario the tenor. + +—Or like Mario, Mr Bloom said. + +—Yes, Red Murray agreed. But Mario was said to be the picture of Our +Saviour. + +Jesusmario with rougy cheeks, doublet and spindle legs. Hand on his +heart. In _Martha._ + + Co-ome thou lost one, + Co-ome thou dear one! + +THE CROZIER AND THE PEN + + +—His grace phoned down twice this morning, Red Murray said gravely. + +They watched the knees, legs, boots vanish. Neck. + +A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the counter and +stepped off posthaste with a word: + +_—Freeman!_ + +Mr Bloom said slowly: + +—Well, he is one of our saviours also. + +A meek smile accompanied him as he lifted the counterflap, as he passed +in through a sidedoor and along the warm dark stairs and passage, along +the now reverberating boards. But will he save the circulation? +Thumping. Thumping. + +He pushed in the glass swingdoor and entered, stepping over strewn +packing paper. Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards +Nannetti’s reading closet. + +WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS WE ANNOUNCE THE DISSOLUTION OF A MOST +RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS + + +Hynes here too: account of the funeral probably. Thumping. Thump. This +morning the remains of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Machines. Smash a +man to atoms if they got him caught. Rule the world today. His +machineries are pegging away too. Like these, got out of hand: +fermenting. Working away, tearing away. And that old grey rat tearing +to get in. + +HOW A GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS TURNED OUT + + +Mr Bloom halted behind the foreman’s spare body, admiring a glossy +crown. + +Strange he never saw his real country. Ireland my country. Member for +College green. He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was +worth. It’s the ads and side features sell a weekly, not the stale news +in the official gazette. Queen Anne is dead. Published by authority in +the year one thousand and. Demesne situate in the townland of +Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. To all whom it may concern schedule +pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets +exported from Ballina. Nature notes. Cartoons. Phil Blake’s weekly Pat +and Bull story. Uncle Toby’s page for tiny tots. Country bumpkin’s +queries. Dear Mr Editor, what is a good cure for flatulence? I’d like +that part. Learn a lot teaching others. The personal note. M. A. P. +Mainly all pictures. Shapely bathers on golden strand. World’s biggest +balloon. Double marriage of sisters celebrated. Two bridegrooms +laughing heartily at each other. Cuprani too, printer. More Irish than +the Irish. + +The machines clanked in threefour time. Thump, thump, thump. Now if he +got paralysed there and no-one knew how to stop them they’d clank on +and on the same, print it over and over and up and back. Monkeydoodle +the whole thing. Want a cool head. + +—Well, get it into the evening edition, councillor, Hynes said. + +Soon be calling him my lord mayor. Long John is backing him, they say. + +The foreman, without answering, scribbled press on a corner of the +sheet and made a sign to a typesetter. He handed the sheet silently +over the dirty glass screen. + +—Right: thanks, Hynes said moving off. + +Mr Bloom stood in his way. + +—If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch, he said, +pointing backward with his thumb. + +—Did you? Hynes asked. + +—Mm, Mr Bloom said. Look sharp and you’ll catch him. + +—Thanks, old man, Hynes said. I’ll tap him too. + +He hurried on eagerly towards the _Freeman’s Journal_. + +Three bob I lent him in Meagher’s. Three weeks. Third hint. + +WE SEE THE CANVASSER AT WORK + + +Mr Bloom laid his cutting on Mr Nannetti’s desk. + +—Excuse me, councillor, he said. This ad, you see. Keyes, you remember? + +Mr Nannetti considered the cutting awhile and nodded. + +—He wants it in for July, Mr Bloom said. + +The foreman moved his pencil towards it. + +—But wait, Mr Bloom said. He wants it changed. Keyes, you see. He wants +two keys at the top. + +Hell of a racket they make. He doesn’t hear it. Nannan. Iron nerves. +Maybe he understands what I. + +The foreman turned round to hear patiently and, lifting an elbow, began +to scratch slowly in the armpit of his alpaca jacket. + +—Like that, Mr Bloom said, crossing his forefingers at the top. + +Let him take that in first. + +Mr Bloom, glancing sideways up from the cross he had made, saw the +foreman’s sallow face, think he has a touch of jaundice, and beyond the +obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. Clank it. Clank it. Miles +of it unreeled. What becomes of it after? O, wrap up meat, parcels: +various uses, thousand and one things. + +Slipping his words deftly into the pauses of the clanking he drew +swiftly on the scarred woodwork. + +HOUSE OF KEY(E)S + + +—Like that, see. Two crossed keys here. A circle. Then here the name. +Alexander Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. So on. + +Better not teach him his own business. + +—You know yourself, councillor, just what he wants. Then round the top +in leaded: the house of keys. You see? Do you think that’s a good idea? + +The foreman moved his scratching hand to his lower ribs and scratched +there quietly. + +—The idea, Mr Bloom said, is the house of keys. You know, councillor, +the Manx parliament. Innuendo of home rule. Tourists, you know, from +the isle of Man. Catches the eye, you see. Can you do that? + +I could ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that _voglio._ But then +if he didn’t know only make it awkward for him. Better not. + +—We can do that, the foreman said. Have you the design? + +—I can get it, Mr Bloom said. It was in a Kilkenny paper. He has a +house there too. I’ll just run out and ask him. Well, you can do that +and just a little par calling attention. You know the usual. Highclass +licensed premises. Longfelt want. So on. + +The foreman thought for an instant. + +—We can do that, he said. Let him give us a three months’ renewal. + +A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage. He began to check it +silently. Mr Bloom stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, +watching the silent typesetters at their cases. + +ORTHOGRAPHICAL + + +Want to be sure of his spelling. Proof fever. Martin Cunningham forgot +to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning. It is amusing to +view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it? double ess ment of +a harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry with a y of a peeled +pear under a cemetery wall. Silly, isn’t it? Cemetery put in of course +on account of the symmetry. + +I should have said when he clapped on his topper. Thank you. I ought to +have said something about an old hat or something. No. I could have +said. Looks as good as new now. See his phiz then. + +Sllt. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forward its +flyboard with sllt the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost +human the way it sllt to call attention. Doing its level best to speak. +That door too sllt creaking, asking to be shut. Everything speaks in +its own way. Sllt. + +NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR + + +The foreman handed back the galleypage suddenly, saying: + +—Wait. Where’s the archbishop’s letter? It’s to be repeated in the +_Telegraph._ Where’s what’s his name? + +He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines. + +—Monks, sir? a voice asked from the castingbox. + +—Ay. Where’s Monks? + +—Monks! + +Mr Bloom took up his cutting. Time to get out. + +—Then I’ll get the design, Mr Nannetti, he said, and you’ll give it a +good place I know. + +—Monks! + +—Yes, sir. + +Three months’ renewal. Want to get some wind off my chest first. Try it +anyhow. Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. Ballsbridge. +Tourists over for the show. + +A DAYFATHER + + +He walked on through the caseroom passing an old man, bowed, +spectacled, aproned. Old Monks, the dayfather. Queer lot of stuff he +must have put through his hands in his time: obituary notices, pubs’ +ads, speeches, divorce suits, found drowned. Nearing the end of his +tether now. Sober serious man with a bit in the savingsbank I’d say. +Wife a good cook and washer. Daughter working the machine in the +parlour. Plain Jane, no damn nonsense. + +AND IT WAS THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER + + +He stayed in his walk to watch a typesetter neatly distributing type. +Reads it backwards first. Quickly he does it. Must require some +practice that. mangiD kcirtaP. Poor papa with his hagadah book, reading +backwards with his finger to me. Pessach. Next year in Jerusalem. Dear, +O dear! All that long business about that brought us out of the land of +Egypt and into the house of bondage _alleluia. Shema Israel Adonai +Elohenu_. No, that’s the other. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob’s sons. +And then the lamb and the cat and the dog and the stick and the water +and the butcher. And then the angel of death kills the butcher and he +kills the ox and the dog kills the cat. Sounds a bit silly till you +come to look into it well. Justice it means but it’s everybody eating +everyone else. That’s what life is after all. How quickly he does that +job. Practice makes perfect. Seems to see with his fingers. + +Mr Bloom passed on out of the clanking noises through the gallery on to +the landing. Now am I going to tram it out all the way and then catch +him out perhaps. Better phone him up first. Number? Yes. Same as +Citron’s house. Twentyeight. Twentyeight double four. + +ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP + + +He went down the house staircase. Who the deuce scrawled all over those +walls with matches? Looks as if they did it for a bet. Heavy greasy +smell there always is in those works. Lukewarm glue in Thom’s next door +when I was there. + +He took out his handkerchief to dab his nose. Citronlemon? Ah, the soap +I put there. Lose it out of that pocket. Putting back his handkerchief +he took out the soap and stowed it away, buttoned, into the hip pocket +of his trousers. + +What perfume does your wife use? I could go home still: tram: something +I forgot. Just to see: before: dressing. No. Here. No. + +A sudden screech of laughter came from the _Evening Telegraph_ office. +Know who that is. What’s up? Pop in a minute to phone. Ned Lambert it +is. + +He entered softly. + +ERIN, GREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA + + +—The ghost walks, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to +the dusty windowpane. + +Mr Dedalus, staring from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert’s quizzing +face, asked of it sourly: + +—Agonising Christ, wouldn’t it give you a heartburn on your arse? + +Ned Lambert, seated on the table, read on: + +—_Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on +its way, tho’ quarrelling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling +waters of Neptune’s blue domain, ’mid mossy banks, fanned by gentlest +zephyrs, played on by the glorious sunlight or ’neath the shadows cast +o’er its pensive bosom by the overarching leafage of the giants of the +forest_. What about that, Simon? he asked over the fringe of his +newspaper. How’s that for high? + +—Changing his drink, Mr Dedalus said. + +Ned Lambert, laughing, struck the newspaper on his knees, repeating: + +—_The pensive bosom and the overarsing leafage_. O boys! O boys! + +—And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Dedalus said, looking again on +the fireplace and to the window, and Marathon looked on the sea. + +—That will do, professor MacHugh cried from the window. I don’t want to +hear any more of the stuff. + +He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and, +hungered, made ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand. + +High falutin stuff. Bladderbags. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I see. +Rather upsets a man’s day, a funeral does. He has influence they say. +Old Chatterton, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his +greatgranduncle. Close on ninety they say. Subleader for his death +written this long time perhaps. Living to spite them. Might go first +himself. Johnny, make room for your uncle. The right honourable Hedges +Eyre Chatterton. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on +gale days. Windfall when he kicks out. Alleluia. + +—Just another spasm, Ned Lambert said. + +—What is it? Mr Bloom asked. + +—A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh answered +with pomp of tone. _Our lovely land_. + +SHORT BUT TO THE POINT + + +—Whose land? Mr Bloom said simply. + +—Most pertinent question, the professor said between his chews. With an +accent on the whose. + +—Dan Dawson’s land Mr Dedalus said. + +—Is it his speech last night? Mr Bloom asked. + +Ned Lambert nodded. + +—But listen to this, he said. + +The doorknob hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was +pushed in. + +—Excuse me, J. J. O’Molloy said, entering. + +Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside. + +—I beg yours, he said. + +—Good day, Jack. + +—Come in. Come in. + +—Good day. + +—How are you, Dedalus? + +—Well. And yourself? + +J. J. O’Molloy shook his head. + +SAD + + +Cleverest fellow at the junior bar he used to be. Decline, poor chap. +That hectic flush spells finis for a man. Touch and go with him. What’s +in the wind, I wonder. Money worry. + +—_Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks._ + +—You’re looking extra. + +—Is the editor to be seen? J. J. O’Molloy asked, looking towards the +inner door. + +—Very much so, professor MacHugh said. To be seen and heard. He’s in +his sanctum with Lenehan. + +J. J. O’Molloy strolled to the sloping desk and began to turn back the +pink pages of the file. + +Practice dwindling. A mighthavebeen. Losing heart. Gambling. Debts of +honour. Reaping the whirlwind. Used to get good retainers from D. and +T. Fitzgerald. Their wigs to show the grey matter. Brains on their +sleeve like the statue in Glasnevin. Believe he does some literary work +for the _Express_ with Gabriel Conroy. Wellread fellow. Myles Crawford +began on the _Independent._ Funny the way those newspaper men veer +about when they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold +in the same breath. Wouldn’t know which to believe. One story good till +you hear the next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then +all blows over. Hail fellow well met the next moment. + +—Ah, listen to this for God’ sake, Ned Lambert pleaded. _Or again if we +but climb the serried mountain peaks..._ + +—Bombast! the professor broke in testily. Enough of the inflated +windbag! + +—_Peaks_, Ned Lambert went on, _towering high on high, to bathe our +souls, as it were..._ + +—Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus said. Blessed and eternal God! Yes? Is he +taking anything for it? + +_—As ’twere, in the peerless panorama of Ireland’s portfolio, +unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize +regions, for very beauty, of bosky grove and undulating plain and +luscious pastureland of vernal green, steeped in the transcendent +translucent glow of our mild mysterious Irish twilight..._ + +HIS NATIVE DORIC + + +—The moon, professor MacHugh said. He forgot Hamlet. + +_—That mantles the vista far and wide and wait till the glowing orb of +the moon shine forth to irradiate her silver effulgence..._ + +—O! Mr Dedalus cried, giving vent to a hopeless groan. Shite and +onions! That’ll do, Ned. Life is too short. + +He took off his silk hat and, blowing out impatiently his bushy +moustache, welshcombed his hair with raking fingers. + +Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. An +instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh’s +unshaven blackspectacled face. + +—Doughy Daw! he cried. + +WHAT WETHERUP SAID + + +All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot +cake that stuff. He was in the bakery line too, wasn’t he? Why they +call him Doughy Daw. Feathered his nest well anyhow. Daughter engaged +to that chap in the inland revenue office with the motor. Hooked that +nicely. Entertainments. Open house. Big blowout. Wetherup always said +that. Get a grip of them by the stomach. + +The inner door was opened violently and a scarlet beaked face, crested +by a comb of feathery hair, thrust itself in. The bold blue eyes stared +about them and the harsh voice asked: + +—What is it? + +—And here comes the sham squire himself! professor MacHugh said +grandly. + +—Getonouthat, you bloody old pedagogue! the editor said in recognition. + +—Come, Ned, Mr Dedalus said, putting on his hat. I must get a drink +after that. + +—Drink! the editor cried. No drinks served before mass. + +—Quite right too, Mr Dedalus said, going out. Come on, Ned. + +Ned Lambert sidled down from the table. The editor’s blue eyes roved +towards Mr Bloom’s face, shadowed by a smile. + +—Will you join us, Myles? Ned Lambert asked. + +MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED + + +—North Cork militia! the editor cried, striding to the mantelpiece. We +won every time! North Cork and Spanish officers! + +—Where was that, Myles? Ned Lambert asked with a reflective glance at +his toecaps. + +—In Ohio! the editor shouted. + +—So it was, begad, Ned Lambert agreed. + +Passing out he whispered to J. J. O’Molloy: + +—Incipient jigs. Sad case. + +—Ohio! the editor crowed in high treble from his uplifted scarlet face. +My Ohio! + +—A perfect cretic! the professor said. Long, short and long. + +O, HARP EOLIAN! + + +He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat pocket and, breaking +off a piece, twanged it smartly between two and two of his resonant +unwashed teeth. + +—Bingbang, bangbang. + +Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made for the inner door. + +—Just a moment, Mr Crawford, he said. I just want to phone about an ad. + +He went in. + +—What about that leader this evening? professor MacHugh asked, coming +to the editor and laying a firm hand on his shoulder. + +—That’ll be all right, Myles Crawford said more calmly. Never you fret. +Hello, Jack. That’s all right. + +—Good day, Myles, J. J. O’Molloy said, letting the pages he held slip +limply back on the file. Is that Canada swindle case on today? + +The telephone whirred inside. + +—Twentyeight... No, twenty... Double four... Yes. + +SPOT THE WINNER + + +Lenehan came out of the inner office with _Sport_’s tissues. + +—Who wants a dead cert for the Gold cup? he asked. Sceptre with O. +Madden up. + +He tossed the tissues on to the table. + +Screams of newsboys barefoot in the hall rushed near and the door was +flung open. + +—Hush, Lenehan said. I hear feetstoops. + +Professor MacHugh strode across the room and seized the cringing urchin +by the collar as the others scampered out of the hall and down the +steps. The tissues rustled up in the draught, floated softly in the air +blue scrawls and under the table came to earth. + +—It wasn’t me, sir. It was the big fellow shoved me, sir. + +—Throw him out and shut the door, the editor said. There’s a hurricane +blowing. + +Lenehan began to paw the tissues up from the floor, grunting as he +stooped twice. + +—Waiting for the racing special, sir, the newsboy said. It was Pat +Farrell shoved me, sir. + +He pointed to two faces peering in round the doorframe. + +—Him, sir. + +—Out of this with you, professor MacHugh said gruffly. + +He hustled the boy out and banged the door to. + +J. J. O’Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking: + +—Continued on page six, column four. + +—Yes, _Evening Telegraph_ here, Mr Bloom phoned from the inner office. +Is the boss...? Yes, _Telegraph_... To where? Aha! Which auction +rooms?... Aha! I see... Right. I’ll catch him. + +A COLLISION ENSUES + + +The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and bumped +against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue. + +—_Pardon, monsieur_, Lenehan said, clutching him for an instant and +making a grimace. + +—My fault, Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. Are you hurt? I’m in a +hurry. + +—Knee, Lenehan said. + +He made a comic face and whined, rubbing his knee: + +—The accumulation of the _anno Domini_. + +—Sorry, Mr Bloom said. + +He went to the door and, holding it ajar, paused. J. J. O’Molloy +slapped the heavy pages over. The noise of two shrill voices, a +mouthorgan, echoed in the bare hallway from the newsboys squatted on +the doorsteps: + + We are the boys of Wexford + Who fought with heart and hand. + +EXIT BLOOM + + +—I’m just running round to Bachelor’s walk, Mr Bloom said, about this +ad of Keyes’s. Want to fix it up. They tell me he’s round there in +Dillon’s. + +He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. The editor who, +leaning against the mantelshelf, had propped his head on his hand, +suddenly stretched forth an arm amply. + +—Begone! he said. The world is before you. + +—Back in no time, Mr Bloom said, hurrying out. + +J. J. O’Molloy took the tissues from Lenehan’s hand and read them, +blowing them apart gently, without comment. + +—He’ll get that advertisement, the professor said, staring through his +blackrimmed spectacles over the crossblind. Look at the young scamps +after him. + +—Show. Where? Lenehan cried, running to the window. + +A STREET CORTÈGE + + +Both smiled over the crossblind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr +Bloom’s wake, the last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kite, a +tail of white bowknots. + +—Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry, Lenehan said, +and you’ll kick. O, my rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the +walk. Small nines. Steal upon larks. + +He began to mazurka in swift caricature across the floor on sliding +feet past the fireplace to J. J. O’Molloy who placed the tissues in his +receiving hands. + +—What’s that? Myles Crawford said with a start. Where are the other two +gone? + +—Who? the professor said, turning. They’re gone round to the Oval for a +drink. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Came over last night. + +—Come on then, Myles Crawford said. Where’s my hat? + +He walked jerkily into the office behind, parting the vent of his +jacket, jingling his keys in his back pocket. They jingled then in the +air and against the wood as he locked his desk drawer. + +—He’s pretty well on, professor MacHugh said in a low voice. + +—Seems to be, J. J. O’Molloy said, taking out a cigarettecase in +murmuring meditation, but it is not always as it seems. Who has the +most matches? + +THE CALUMET OF PEACE + + +He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Lenehan +promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J. +J. O’Molloy opened his case again and offered it. + +—_Thanky vous_, Lenehan said, helping himself. + +The editor came from the inner office, a straw hat awry on his brow. He +declaimed in song, pointing sternly at professor MacHugh: + + ’Twas rank and fame that tempted thee, + ’Twas empire charmed thy heart. + +The professor grinned, locking his long lips. + +—Eh? You bloody old Roman empire? Myles Crawford said. + +He took a cigarette from the open case. Lenehan, lighting it for him +with quick grace, said: + +—Silence for my brandnew riddle! + +—_Imperium romanum_, J. J. O’Molloy said gently. It sounds nobler than +British or Brixton. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire. + +Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling. + +—That’s it, he said. We are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire. +We haven’t got the chance of a snowball in hell. + +THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME + + +—Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. We +mustn’t be led away by words, by sounds of words. We think of Rome, +imperial, imperious, imperative. + +He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffs, pausing: + +—What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. Cloacae: sewers. +The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: _It is meet to +be here. Let us build an altar to Jehovah_. The Roman, like the +Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on +which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal +obsession. He gazed about him in his toga and he said: _It is meet to +be here. Let us construct a watercloset._ + +—Which they accordingly did do, Lenehan said. Our old ancient +ancestors, as we read in the first chapter of Guinness’s, were partial +to the running stream. + +—They were nature’s gentlemen, J. J. O’Molloy murmured. But we have +also Roman law. + +—And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh responded. + +—Do you know that story about chief baron Palles? J. J. O’Molloy asked. +It was at the royal university dinner. Everything was going swimmingly +... + +—First my riddle, Lenehan said. Are you ready? + +Mr O’Madden Burke, tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed, came in from +the hallway. Stephen Dedalus, behind him, uncovered as he entered. + +—_Entrez, mes enfants!_ Lenehan cried. + +—I escort a suppliant, Mr O’Madden Burke said melodiously. Youth led by +Experience visits Notoriety. + +—How do you do? the editor said, holding out a hand. Come in. Your +governor is just gone. + +??? + + +Lenehan said to all: + +—Silence! What opera resembles a railwayline? Reflect, ponder, +excogitate, reply. + +Stephen handed over the typed sheets, pointing to the title and +signature. + +—Who? the editor asked. + +Bit torn off. + +—Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen said. + +—That old pelters, the editor said. Who tore it? Was he short taken? + + On swift sail flaming + From storm and south + He comes, pale vampire, + Mouth to my mouth. + +—Good day, Stephen, the professor said, coming to peer over their +shoulders. Foot and mouth? Are you turned...? + +Bullockbefriending bard. + +SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT + + +—Good day, sir, Stephen answered blushing. The letter is not mine. Mr +Garrett Deasy asked me to... + +—O, I know him, Myles Crawford said, and I knew his wife too. The +bloodiest old tartar God ever made. By Jesus, she had the foot and +mouth disease and no mistake! The night she threw the soup in the +waiter’s face in the Star and Garter. Oho! + +A woman brought sin into the world. For Helen, the runaway wife of +Menelaus, ten years the Greeks. O’Rourke, prince of Breffni. + +—Is he a widower? Stephen asked. + +—Ay, a grass one, Myles Crawford said, his eye running down the +typescript. Emperor’s horses. Habsburg. An Irishman saved his life on +the ramparts of Vienna. Don’t you forget! Maximilian Karl O’Donnell, +graf von Tirconnell in Ireland. Sent his heir over to make the king an +Austrian fieldmarshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Wild +geese. O yes, every time. Don’t you forget that! + +—The moot point is did he forget it, J. J. O’Molloy said quietly, +turning a horseshoe paperweight. Saving princes is a thank you job. + +Professor MacHugh turned on him. + +—And if not? he said. + +—I’ll tell you how it was, Myles Crawford began. A Hungarian it was one +day... + +LOST CAUSES NOBLE MARQUESS MENTIONED + + +—We were always loyal to lost causes, the professor said. Success for +us is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. We were never +loyal to the successful. We serve them. I teach the blatant Latin +language. I speak the tongue of a race the acme of whose mentality is +the maxim: time is money. Material domination. _Dominus!_ Lord! Where +is the spirituality? Lord Jesus? Lord Salisbury? A sofa in a westend +club. But the Greek! + +KYRIE ELEISON! + + +A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long +lips. + +—The Greek! he said again. _Kyrios!_ Shining word! The vowels the +Semite and the Saxon know not. _Kyrie!_ The radiance of the intellect. +I ought to profess Greek, the language of the mind. _Kyrie eleison!_ +The closetmaker and the cloacamaker will never be lords of our spirit. +We are liege subjects of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered +at Trafalgar and of the empire of the spirit, not an _imperium,_ that +went under with the Athenian fleets at Aegospotami. Yes, yes. They went +under. Pyrrhus, misled by an oracle, made a last attempt to retrieve +the fortunes of Greece. Loyal to a lost cause. + +He strode away from them towards the window. + +—They went forth to battle, Mr O’Madden Burke said greyly, but they +always fell. + +—Boohoo! Lenehan wept with a little noise. Owing to a brick received in +the latter half of the _matinée_. Poor, poor, poor Pyrrhus! + +He whispered then near Stephen’s ear: + +LENEHAN’S LIMERICK + + +—_There’s a ponderous pundit MacHugh +Who wears goggles of ebony hue. +As he mostly sees double +To wear them why trouble? +I can’t see the Joe Miller. Can you?_ + + +In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. Whose mother is beastly dead. + +Myles Crawford crammed the sheets into a sidepocket. + +—That’ll be all right, he said. I’ll read the rest after. That’ll be +all right. + +Lenehan extended his hands in protest. + +—But my riddle! he said. What opera is like a railwayline? + +—Opera? Mr O’Madden Burke’s sphinx face reriddled. + +Lenehan announced gladly: + +—_The Rose of Castile_. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee! + +He poked Mr O’Madden Burke mildly in the spleen. Mr O’Madden Burke fell +back with grace on his umbrella, feigning a gasp. + +—Help! he sighed. I feel a strong weakness. + +Lenehan, rising to tiptoe, fanned his face rapidly with the rustling +tissues. + +The professor, returning by way of the files, swept his hand across +Stephen’s and Mr O’Madden Burke’s loose ties. + +—Paris, past and present, he said. You look like communards. + +—Like fellows who had blown up the Bastile, J. J. O’Molloy said in +quiet mockery. Or was it you shot the lord lieutenant of Finland +between you? You look as though you had done the deed. General +Bobrikoff. + +OMNIUM GATHERUM + + +—We were only thinking about it, Stephen said. + +—All the talents, Myles Crawford said. Law, the classics... + +—The turf, Lenehan put in. + +—Literature, the press. + +—If Bloom were here, the professor said. The gentle art of +advertisement. + +—And Madam Bloom, Mr O’Madden Burke added. The vocal muse. Dublin’s +prime favourite. + +Lenehan gave a loud cough. + +—Ahem! he said very softly. O, for a fresh of breath air! I caught a +cold in the park. The gate was open. + +“YOU CAN DO IT!” + + +The editor laid a nervous hand on Stephen’s shoulder. + +—I want you to write something for me, he said. Something with a bite +in it. You can do it. I see it in your face. _In the lexicon of +youth_... + +See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy idle little schemer. + +—Foot and mouth disease! the editor cried in scornful invective. Great +nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory. All balls! Bulldosing the +public! Give them something with a bite in it. Put us all into it, damn +its soul. Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M’Carthy. + +—We can all supply mental pabulum, Mr O’Madden Burke said. + +Stephen raised his eyes to the bold unheeding stare. + +—He wants you for the pressgang, J. J. O’Molloy said. + +THE GREAT GALLAHER + + +—You can do it, Myles Crawford repeated, clenching his hand in +emphasis. Wait a minute. We’ll paralyse Europe as Ignatius Gallaher +used to say when he was on the shaughraun, doing billiardmarking in the +Clarence. Gallaher, that was a pressman for you. That was a pen. You +know how he made his mark? I’ll tell you. That was the smartest piece +of journalism ever known. That was in eightyone, sixth of May, time of +the invincibles, murder in the Phoenix park, before you were born, I +suppose. I’ll show you. + +He pushed past them to the files. + +—Look at here, he said turning. The _New York World_ cabled for a +special. Remember that time? + +Professor MacHugh nodded. + +—_New York World_, the editor said, excitedly pushing back his straw +hat. Where it took place. Tim Kelly, or Kavanagh I mean. Joe Brady and +the rest of them. Where Skin-the-Goat drove the car. Whole route, see? + +—Skin-the-Goat, Mr O’Madden Burke said. Fitzharris. He has that +cabman’s shelter, they say, down there at Butt bridge. Holohan told me. +You know Holohan? + +—Hop and carry one, is it? Myles Crawford said. + +—And poor Gumley is down there too, so he told me, minding stones for +the corporation. A night watchman. + +Stephen turned in surprise. + +—Gumley? he said. You don’t say so? A friend of my father’s, is it? + +—Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford cried angrily. Let Gumley mind the +stones, see they don’t run away. Look at here. What did Ignatius +Gallaher do? I’ll tell you. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away. +Have you _Weekly Freeman_ of 17 March? Right. Have you got that? + +He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point. + +—Take page four, advertisement for Bransome’s coffee, let us say. Have +you got that? Right. + +The telephone whirred. + +A DISTANT VOICE + + +—I’ll answer it, the professor said, going. + +—B is parkgate. Good. + +His finger leaped and struck point after point, vibrating. + +—T is viceregal lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Knockmaroon +gate. + +The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock’s wattles. An illstarched +dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his +waistcoat. + +—Hello? _Evening Telegraph_ here... Hello?... Who’s there?... Yes... +Yes... Yes. + +—F to P is the route Skin-the-Goat drove the car for an alibi, +Inchicore, Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park, Ranelagh. F.A.B.P. +Got that? X is Davy’s publichouse in upper Leeson street. + +The professor came to the inner door. + +—Bloom is at the telephone, he said. + +—Tell him go to hell, the editor said promptly. X is Davy’s +publichouse, see? + +CLEVER, VERY + + +—Clever, Lenehan said. Very. + +—Gave it to them on a hot plate, Myles Crawford said, the whole bloody +history. + +Nightmare from which you will never awake. + +—I saw it, the editor said proudly. I was present. Dick Adams, the +besthearted bloody Corkman the Lord ever put the breath of life in, and +myself. + +Lenehan bowed to a shape of air, announcing: + +—Madam, I’m Adam. And Able was I ere I saw Elba. + +—History! Myles Crawford cried. The Old Woman of Prince’s street was +there first. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. Out of +an advertisement. Gregor Grey made the design for it. That gave him the +leg up. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the _Star._ +Now he’s got in with Blumenfeld. That’s press. That’s talent. Pyatt! He +was all their daddies! + +—The father of scare journalism, Lenehan confirmed, and the +brother-in-law of Chris Callinan. + +—Hello?... Are you there?... Yes, he’s here still. Come across +yourself. + +—Where do you find a pressman like that now, eh? the editor cried. + +He flung the pages down. + +—Clamn dever, Lenehan said to Mr O’Madden Burke. + +—Very smart, Mr O’Madden Burke said. + +Professor MacHugh came from the inner office. + +—Talking about the invincibles, he said, did you see that some hawkers +were up before the recorder... + +—O yes, J. J. O’Molloy said eagerly. Lady Dudley was walking home +through the park to see all the trees that were blown down by that +cyclone last year and thought she’d buy a view of Dublin. And it turned +out to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or +Skin-the-Goat. Right outside the viceregal lodge, imagine! + +—They’re only in the hook and eye department, Myles Crawford said. +Psha! Press and the bar! Where have you a man now at the bar like those +fellows, like Whiteside, like Isaac Butt, like silvertongued O’Hagan. +Eh? Ah, bloody nonsense. Psha! Only in the halfpenny place. + +His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. + +Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss? How do you know? Why did you +write it then? + +RHYMES AND REASONS + + +Mouth, south. Is the mouth south someway? Or the south a mouth? Must be +some. South, pout, out, shout, drouth. Rhymes: two men dressed the +same, looking the same, two by two. + + ........................ la tua pace + .................. che parlar ti piace + Mentre che il vento, come fa, si tace. + +He saw them three by three, approaching girls, in green, in rose, in +russet, entwining, _per l’aer perso_, in mauve, in purple, _quella +pacifica oriafiamma_, gold of oriflamme, _di rimirar fè più ardenti._ +But I old men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth +south: tomb womb. + +—Speak up for yourself, Mr O’Madden Burke said. + +SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY... + + +J. J. O’Molloy, smiling palely, took up the gage. + +—My dear Myles, he said, flinging his cigarette aside, you put a false +construction on my words. I hold no brief, as at present advised, for +the third profession _qua_ profession but your Cork legs are running +away with you. Why not bring in Henry Grattan and Flood and Demosthenes +and Edmund Burke? Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his Chapelizod +boss, Harmsworth of the farthing press, and his American cousin of the +Bowery guttersheet not to mention _Paddy Kelly’s Budget_, _Pue’s +Occurrences_ and our watchful friend _The Skibbereen Eagle_. Why bring +in a master of forensic eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the +day is the newspaper thereof. + +LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE + + +—Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper, the editor cried in his +face. Irish volunteers. Where are you now? Established 1763. Dr Lucas. +Who have you now like John Philpot Curran? Psha! + +—Well, J. J. O’Molloy said, Bushe K.C., for example. + +—Bushe? the editor said. Well, yes: Bushe, yes. He has a strain of it +in his blood. Kendal Bushe or I mean Seymour Bushe. + +—He would have been on the bench long ago, the professor said, only for +.... But no matter. + +J. J. O’Molloy turned to Stephen and said quietly and slowly: + +—One of the most polished periods I think I ever listened to in my life +fell from the lips of Seymour Bushe. It was in that case of fratricide, +the Childs murder case. Bushe defended him. + + _And in the porches of mine ear did pour._ + +By the way how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. Or the other +story, beast with two backs? + +—What was that? the professor asked. + +ITALIA, MAGISTRA ARTIUM + + +—He spoke on the law of evidence, J. J. O’Molloy said, of Roman justice +as contrasted with the earlier Mosaic code, the _lex talionis_. And he +cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the vatican. + +—Ha. + +—A few wellchosen words, Lenehan prefaced. Silence! + +Pause. J. J. O’Molloy took out his cigarettecase. + +False lull. Something quite ordinary. + +Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar. + +I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that +it was that small act, trivial in itself, that striking of that match, +that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives. + +A POLISHED PERIOD + + +J. J. O’Molloy resumed, moulding his words: + +—He said of it: _that stony effigy in frozen music, horned and +terrible, of the human form divine, that eternal symbol of wisdom and +of prophecy which, if aught that the imagination or the hand of +sculptor has wrought in marble of soultransfigured and of +soultransfiguring deserves to live, deserves to live._ + +His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall. + +—Fine! Myles Crawford said at once. + +—The divine afflatus, Mr O’Madden Burke said. + +—You like it? J. J. O’Molloy asked Stephen. + +Stephen, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed. He +took a cigarette from the case. J. J. O’Molloy offered his case to +Myles Crawford. Lenehan lit their cigarettes as before and took his +trophy, saying: + +—Muchibus thankibus. + +A MAN OF HIGH MORALE + + +—Professor Magennis was speaking to me about you, J. J. O’Molloy said +to Stephen. What do you think really of that hermetic crowd, the opal +hush poets: A. E. the mastermystic? That Blavatsky woman started it. +She was a nice old bag of tricks. A. E. has been telling some yankee +interviewer that you came to him in the small hours of the morning to +ask him about planes of consciousness. Magennis thinks you must have +been pulling A. E.’s leg. He is a man of the very highest morale, +Magennis. + +Speaking about me. What did he say? What did he say? What did he say +about me? Don’t ask. + +—No, thanks, professor MacHugh said, waving the cigarettecase aside. +Wait a moment. Let me say one thing. The finest display of oratory I +ever heard was a speech made by John F Taylor at the college historical +society. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, the present lord justice of appeal, had +spoken and the paper under debate was an essay (new for those days), +advocating the revival of the Irish tongue. + +He turned towards Myles Crawford and said: + +—You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Then you can imagine the style of his +discourse. + +—He is sitting with Tim Healy, J. J. O’Molloy said, rumour has it, on +the Trinity college estates commission. + +—He is sitting with a sweet thing, Myles Crawford said, in a child’s +frock. Go on. Well? + +—It was the speech, mark you, the professor said, of a finished orator, +full of courteous haughtiness and pouring in chastened diction I will +not say the vials of his wrath but pouring the proud man’s contumely +upon the new movement. It was then a new movement. We were weak, +therefore worthless. + +He closed his long thin lips an instant but, eager to be on, raised an +outspanned hand to his spectacles and, with trembling thumb and +ringfinger touching lightly the black rims, steadied them to a new +focus. + +IMPROMPTU + + +In ferial tone he addressed J. J. O’Molloy: + +—Taylor had come there, you must know, from a sickbed. That he had +prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one +shorthandwriter in the hall. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy +beard round it. He wore a loose white silk neckcloth and altogether he +looked (though he was not) a dying man. + +His gaze turned at once but slowly from J. J. O’Molloy’s towards +Stephen’s face and then bent at once to the ground, seeking. His +unglazed linen collar appeared behind his bent head, soiled by his +withering hair. Still seeking, he said: + +—When Fitzgibbon’s speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply. +Briefly, as well as I can bring them to mind, his words were these. + +He raised his head firmly. His eyes bethought themselves once more. +Witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking outlet. + +He began: + +_—Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in +listening to the remarks addressed to the youth of Ireland a moment +since by my learned friend. It seemed to me that I had been transported +into a country far away from this country, into an age remote from this +age, that I stood in ancient Egypt and that I was listening to the +speech of some highpriest of that land addressed to the youthful +Moses._ + +His listeners held their cigarettes poised to hear, their smokes +ascending in frail stalks that flowered with his speech. _And let our +crooked smokes._ Noble words coming. Look out. Could you try your hand +at it yourself? + +_—And it seemed to me that I heard the voice of that Egyptian +highpriest raised in a tone of like haughtiness and like pride. I heard +his words and their meaning was revealed to me._ + +FROM THE FATHERS + + +It was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are +corrupted which neither if they were supremely good nor unless they +were good could be corrupted. Ah, curse you! That’s saint Augustine. + +_—Why will you jews not accept our culture, our religion and our +language? You are a tribe of nomad herdsmen: we are a mighty people. +You have no cities nor no wealth: our cities are hives of humanity and +our galleys, trireme and quadrireme, laden with all manner merchandise +furrow the waters of the known globe. You have but emerged from +primitive conditions: we have a literature, a priesthood, an agelong +history and a polity._ + +Nile. + +Child, man, effigy. + +By the Nilebank the babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man supple +in combat: stonehorned, stonebearded, heart of stone. + +_—You pray to a local and obscure idol: our temples, majestic and +mysterious, are the abodes of Isis and Osiris, of Horus and Ammon Ra. +Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the seas. Israel is +weak and few are her children: Egypt is an host and terrible are her +arms. Vagrants and daylabourers are you called: the world trembles at +our name._ + +A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. He lifted his voice above it +boldly: + +_—But, ladies and gentlemen, had the youthful Moses listened to and +accepted that view of life, had he bowed his head and bowed his will +and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would never +have brought the chosen people out of their house of bondage, nor +followed the pillar of the cloud by day. He would never have spoken +with the Eternal amid lightnings on Sinai’s mountaintop nor ever have +come down with the light of inspiration shining in his countenance and +bearing in his arms the tables of the law, graven in the language of +the outlaw._ + +He ceased and looked at them, enjoying a silence. + +OMINOUS—FOR HIM! + + +J. J. O’Molloy said not without regret: + +—And yet he died without having entered the land of promise. + +—A—sudden—at—the—moment—though—from—lingering—illness—often—previously— +expectorated—demise, Lenehan added. And with a great future behind him. + +The troop of bare feet was heard rushing along the hallway and +pattering up the staircase. + +—That is oratory, the professor said uncontradicted. + +Gone with the wind. Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the kings. Miles +of ears of porches. The tribune’s words, howled and scattered to the +four winds. A people sheltered within his voice. Dead noise. Akasic +records of all that ever anywhere wherever was. Love and laud him: me +no more. + +I have money. + +—Gentlemen, Stephen said. As the next motion on the agenda paper may I +suggest that the house do now adjourn? + +—You take my breath away. It is not perchance a French compliment? Mr +O’Madden Burke asked. ’Tis the hour, methinks, when the winejug, +metaphorically speaking, is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry. + +—That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. All that are in favour +say ay, Lenehan announced. The contrary no. I declare it carried. To +which particular boosing shed...? My casting vote is: Mooney’s! + +He led the way, admonishing: + +—We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not? Yes, +we will not. By no manner of means. + +Mr O’Madden Burke, following close, said with an ally’s lunge of his +umbrella: + +—Lay on, Macduff! + +—Chip of the old block! the editor cried, clapping Stephen on the +shoulder. Let us go. Where are those blasted keys? + +He fumbled in his pocket pulling out the crushed typesheets. + +—Foot and mouth. I know. That’ll be all right. That’ll go in. Where are +they? That’s all right. + +He thrust the sheets back and went into the inner office. + +LET US HOPE + + +J. J. O’Molloy, about to follow him in, said quietly to Stephen: + +—I hope you will live to see it published. Myles, one moment. + +He went into the inner office, closing the door behind him. + +—Come along, Stephen, the professor said. That is fine, isn’t it? It +has the prophetic vision. _Fuit Ilium!_ The sack of windy Troy. +Kingdoms of this world. The masters of the Mediterranean are fellaheen +today. + +The first newsboy came pattering down the stairs at their heels and +rushed out into the street, yelling: + +—Racing special! + +Dublin. I have much, much to learn. + +They turned to the left along Abbey street. + +—I have a vision too, Stephen said. + +—Yes? the professor said, skipping to get into step. Crawford will +follow. + +Another newsboy shot past them, yelling as he ran: + +—Racing special! + +DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN + + +Dubliners. + +—Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said, elderly and pious, have lived fifty +and fiftythree years in Fumbally’s lane. + +—Where is that? the professor asked. + +—Off Blackpitts, Stephen said. + +Damp night reeking of hungry dough. Against the wall. Face glistering +tallow under her fustian shawl. Frantic hearts. Akasic records. +Quicker, darlint! + +On now. Dare it. Let there be life. + +—They want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson’s pillar. +They save up three and tenpence in a red tin letterbox moneybox. They +shake out the threepenny bits and sixpences and coax out the pennies +with the blade of a knife. Two and three in silver and one and seven in +coppers. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their +umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain. + +—Wise virgins, professor MacHugh said. + +LIFE ON THE RAW + + +—They buy one and fourpenceworth of brawn and four slices of panloaf at +the north city diningrooms in Marlborough street from Miss Kate +Collins, proprietress... They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from +a girl at the foot of Nelson’s pillar to take off the thirst of the +brawn. They give two threepenny bits to the gentleman at the turnstile +and begin to waddle slowly up the winding staircase, grunting, +encouraging each other, afraid of the dark, panting, one asking the +other have you the brawn, praising God and the Blessed Virgin, +threatening to come down, peeping at the airslits. Glory be to God. +They had no idea it was that high. + +Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe. Anne Kearns has the +lumbago for which she rubs on Lourdes water, given her by a lady who +got a bottleful from a passionist father. Florence MacCabe takes a +crubeen and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday. + +—Antithesis, the professor said nodding twice. Vestal virgins. I can +see them. What’s keeping our friend? + +He turned. + +A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the steps, scattering in all +directions, yelling, their white papers fluttering. Hard after them +Myles Crawford appeared on the steps, his hat aureoling his scarlet +face, talking with J. J. O’Molloy. + +—Come along, the professor cried, waving his arm. + +He set off again to walk by Stephen’s side. + +RETURN OF BLOOM + + +—Yes, he said. I see them. + +Mr Bloom, breathless, caught in a whirl of wild newsboys near the +offices of the _Irish Catholic_ and _Dublin Penny Journal_, called: + +—Mr Crawford! A moment! + +—_Telegraph_! Racing special! + +—What is it? Myles Crawford said, falling back a pace. + +A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom’s face: + +—Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! A child bit by a bellows! + +INTERVIEW WITH THE EDITOR + + +—Just this ad, Mr Bloom said, pushing through towards the steps, +puffing, and taking the cutting from his pocket. I spoke with Mr Keyes +just now. He’ll give a renewal for two months, he says. After he’ll +see. But he wants a par to call attention in the _Telegraph_ too, the +Saturday pink. And he wants it copied if it’s not too late I told +councillor Nannetti from the _Kilkenny People_. I can have access to it +in the national library. House of keys, don’t you see? His name is +Keyes. It’s a play on the name. But he practically promised he’d give +the renewal. But he wants just a little puff. What will I tell him, Mr +Crawford? + +K.M.A. + + +—Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said throwing +out his arm for emphasis. Tell him that straight from the stable. + +A bit nervy. Look out for squalls. All off for a drink. Arm in arm. +Lenehan’s yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Usual blarney. Wonder is +that young Dedalus the moving spirit. Has a good pair of boots on him +today. Last time I saw him he had his heels on view. Been walking in +muck somewhere. Careless chap. What was he doing in Irishtown? + +—Well, Mr Bloom said, his eyes returning, if I can get the design I +suppose it’s worth a short par. He’d give the ad, I think. I’ll tell +him... + +K.M.R.I.A. + + +—He can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles Crawford cried loudly over his +shoulder. Any time he likes, tell him. + +While Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he strode on +jerkily. + +RAISING THE WIND + + +—_Nulla bona_, Jack, he said, raising his hand to his chin. I’m up to +here. I’ve been through the hoop myself. I was looking for a fellow to +back a bill for me no later than last week. Sorry, Jack. You must take +the will for the deed. With a heart and a half if I could raise the +wind anyhow. + +J. J. O’Molloy pulled a long face and walked on silently. They caught +up on the others and walked abreast. + +—When they have eaten the brawn and the bread and wiped their twenty +fingers in the paper the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the +railings. + +—Something for you, the professor explained to Myles Crawford. Two old +Dublin women on the top of Nelson’s pillar. + +SOME COLUMN!—THAT’S WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID + + +—That’s new, Myles Crawford said. That’s copy. Out for the waxies’ +Dargle. Two old trickies, what? + +—But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen went on. They see +the roofs and argue about where the different churches are: Rathmines’ +blue dome, Adam and Eve’s, saint Laurence O’Toole’s. But it makes them +giddy to look so they pull up their skirts... + +THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES + + +—Easy all, Myles Crawford said. No poetic licence. We’re in the +archdiocese here. + +—And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue +of the onehandled adulterer. + +—Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. I like that. I see the +idea. I see what you mean. + +DAMES DONATE DUBLIN’S CITS SPEEDPILLS VELOCITOUS AEROLITHS, BELIEF + + +—It gives them a crick in their necks, Stephen said, and they are too +tired to look up or down or to speak. They put the bag of plums between +them and eat the plums out of it, one after another, wiping off with +their handkerchiefs the plumjuice that dribbles out of their mouths and +spitting the plumstones slowly out between the railings. + +He gave a sudden loud young laugh as a close. Lenehan and Mr O’Madden +Burke, hearing, turned, beckoned and led on across towards Mooney’s. + +—Finished? Myles Crawford said. So long as they do no worse. + +SOPHIST WALLOPS HAUGHTY HELEN SQUARE ON PROBOSCIS. SPARTANS GNASH +MOLARS. ITHACANS VOW PEN IS CHAMP. + + +—You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said, a disciple of +Gorgias, the sophist. It is said of him that none could tell if he were +bitterer against others or against himself. He was the son of a noble +and a bondwoman. And he wrote a book in which he took away the palm of +beauty from Argive Helen and handed it to poor Penelope. + +Poor Penelope. Penelope Rich. + +They made ready to cross O’Connell street. + +HELLO THERE, CENTRAL! + + +At various points along the eight lines tramcars with motionless +trolleys stood in their tracks, bound for or from Rathmines, +Rathfarnham, Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Sandymount Green, +Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and Upper +Rathmines, all still, becalmed in short circuit. Hackney cars, cabs, +delivery waggons, mailvans, private broughams, aerated mineral water +floats with rattling crates of bottles, rattled, rolled, horsedrawn, +rapidly. + +WHAT?—AND LIKEWISE—WHERE? + + +—But what do you call it? Myles Crawford asked. Where did they get the +plums? + +VIRGILIAN, SAYS PEDAGOGUE. SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR OLD MAN MOSES. + + +—Call it, wait, the professor said, opening his long lips wide to +reflect. Call it, let me see. Call it: _deus nobis hæc otia fecit._ + +—No, Stephen said. I call it _A Pisgah Sight of Palestine_ or _The +Parable of The Plums._ + +—I see, the professor said. + +He laughed richly. + +—I see, he said again with new pleasure. Moses and the promised land. +We gave him that idea, he added to J. J. O’Molloy. + +HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY + + +J. J. O’Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue and held +his peace. + +—I see, the professor said. + +He halted on sir John Gray’s pavement island and peered aloft at Nelson +through the meshes of his wry smile. + +DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR FRISKY FRUMPS. ANNE +WIMBLES, FLO WANGLES—YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM? + + +—Onehandled adulterer, he said smiling grimly. That tickles me, I must +say. + +—Tickled the old ones too, Myles Crawford said, if the God Almighty’s +truth was known. + + +[ 8 ] + +Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl +shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school +treat. Bad for their tummies. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His +Majesty the King. God. Save. Our. Sitting on his throne sucking red +jujubes white. + +A sombre Y. M. C. A. young man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of +Graham Lemon’s, placed a throwaway in a hand of Mr Bloom. + +Heart to heart talks. + +Bloo... Me? No. + +Blood of the Lamb. + +His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Are you saved? All are +washed in the blood of the lamb. God wants blood victim. Birth, hymen, +martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, +druids’ altars. Elijah is coming. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of +the church in Zion is coming. + + Is coming! Is coming!! Is coming!!! + All heartily welcome. + +Paying game. Torry and Alexander last year. Polygamy. His wife will put +the stopper on that. Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the +luminous crucifix. Our Saviour. Wake up in the dead of night and see +him on the wall, hanging. Pepper’s ghost idea. Iron Nails Ran In. + +Phosphorus it must be done with. If you leave a bit of codfish for +instance. I could see the bluey silver over it. Night I went down to +the pantry in the kitchen. Don’t like all the smells in it waiting to +rush out. What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. Thinking of +Spain. Before Rudy was born. The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny. +Very good for the brain. + +From Butler’s monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor’s walk. +Dedalus’ daughter there still outside Dillon’s auctionrooms. Must be +selling off some old furniture. Knew her eyes at once from the father. +Lobbing about waiting for him. Home always breaks up when the mother +goes. Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost. That’s in their +theology or the priest won’t give the poor woman the confession, the +absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat +you out of house and home. No families themselves to feed. Living on +the fat of the land. Their butteries and larders. I’d like to see them +do the black fast Yom Kippur. Crossbuns. One meal and a collation for +fear he’d collapse on the altar. A housekeeper of one of those fellows +if you could pick it out of her. Never pick it out of her. Like getting +£. s. d. out of him. Does himself well. No guests. All for number one. +Watching his water. Bring your own bread and butter. His reverence: +mum’s the word. + +Good Lord, that poor child’s dress is in flitters. Underfed she looks +too. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. It’s after they feel it. +Proof of the pudding. Undermines the constitution. + +As he set foot on O’Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from +the parapet. Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours +it, I heard. Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see +the brewery. Regular world in itself. Vats of porter wonderful. Rats +get in too. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead +drunk on the porter. Drink till they puke again like christians. +Imagine drinking that! Rats: vats. Well, of course, if we knew all the +things. + +Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the gaunt +quaywalls, gulls. Rough weather outside. If I threw myself down? Reuben +J’s son must have swallowed a good bellyful of that sewage. One and +eightpence too much. Hhhhm. It’s the droll way he comes out with the +things. Knows how to tell a story too. + +They wheeled lower. Looking for grub. Wait. + +He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. Elijah thirtytwo feet +per sec is com. Not a bit. The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of +swells, floated under by the bridgepiers. Not such damn fools. Also the +day I threw that stale cake out of the Erin’s King picked it up in the +wake fifty yards astern. Live by their wits. They wheeled, flapping. + + The hungry famished gull + Flaps o’er the waters dull. + +That is how poets write, the similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has +no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts. +Solemn. + + Hamlet, I am thy father’s spirit + Doomed for a certain time to walk the earth. + + —Two apples a penny! Two for a penny! + +His gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand. +Australians they must be this time of year. Shiny peels: polishes them +up with a rag or a handkerchief. + +Wait. Those poor birds. + +He halted again and bought from the old applewoman two Banbury cakes +for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down +into the Liffey. See that? The gulls swooped silently, two, then all +from their heights, pouncing on prey. Gone. Every morsel. + +Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his +hands. They never expected that. Manna. Live on fish, fishy flesh they +have, all seabirds, gulls, seagoose. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down +here sometimes to preen themselves. No accounting for tastes. Wonder +what kind is swanmeat. Robinson Crusoe had to live on them. + +They wheeled flapping weakly. I’m not going to throw any more. Penny +quite enough. Lot of thanks I get. Not even a caw. They spread foot and +mouth disease too. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes +like that. Eat pig like pig. But then why is it that saltwater fish are +not salty? How is that? + +His eyes sought answer from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor +on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. + + Kino’s + 11/— + Trousers + +Good idea that. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. How can you +own water really? It’s always flowing in a stream, never the same, +which in the stream of life we trace. Because life is a stream. All +kinds of places are good for ads. That quack doctor for the clap used +to be stuck up in all the greenhouses. Never see it now. Strictly +confidential. Dr Hy Franks. Didn’t cost him a red like Maginni the +dancing master self advertisement. Got fellows to stick them up or +stick them up himself for that matter on the q. t. running in to loosen +a button. Flybynight. Just the place too. POST NO BILLS. POST 110 +PILLS. Some chap with a dose burning him. + +If he...? + +O! + +Eh? + +No... No. + +No, no. I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t surely? + +No, no. + +Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Think no more about +that. After one. Timeball on the ballastoffice is down. Dunsink time. +Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball’s. Parallax. I never +exactly understood. There’s a priest. Could ask him. Par it’s Greek: +parallel, parallax. Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her +about the transmigration. O rocks! + +Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the ballastoffice. She’s +right after all. Only big words for ordinary things on account of the +sound. She’s not exactly witty. Can be rude too. Blurt out what I was +thinking. Still, I don’t know. She used to say Ben Dollard had a base +barreltone voice. He has legs like barrels and you’d think he was +singing into a barrel. Now, isn’t that wit. They used to call him big +Ben. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Appetite like an +albatross. Get outside of a baron of beef. Powerful man he was at +stowing away number one Bass. Barrel of Bass. See? It all works out. + +A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him +along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Bargains. Like +that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered. He +read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H. E. L. Y. S. +Wisdom Hely’s. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his +foreboard, crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. Our +staple food. Three bob a day, walking along the gutters, street after +street. Just keep skin and bone together, bread and skilly. They are +not Boyl: no, M’Glade’s men. Doesn’t bring in any business either. I +suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls +sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. I +bet that would have caught on. Smart girls writing something catch the +eye at once. Everyone dying to know what she’s writing. Get twenty of +them round you if you stare at nothing. Have a finger in the pie. Women +too. Curiosity. Pillar of salt. Wouldn’t have it of course because he +didn’t think of it himself first. Or the inkbottle I suggested with a +false stain of black celluloid. His ideas for ads like Plumtree’s +potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. You can’t lick ’em. +What? Our envelopes. Hello, Jones, where are you going? Can’t stop, +Robinson, I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser +_Kansell,_ sold by Hely’s Ltd, 85 Dame street. Well out of that ruck I +am. Devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents. +Tranquilla convent. That was a nice nun there, really sweet face. +Wimple suited her small head. Sister? Sister? I am sure she was crossed +in love by her eyes. Very hard to bargain with that sort of a woman. I +disturbed her at her devotions that morning. But glad to communicate +with the outside world. Our great day, she said. Feast of Our Lady of +Mount Carmel. Sweet name too: caramel. She knew I, I think she knew by +the way she. If she had married she would have changed. I suppose they +really were short of money. Fried everything in the best butter all the +same. No lard for them. My heart’s broke eating dripping. They like +buttering themselves in and out. Molly tasting it, her veil up. Sister? +Pat Claffey, the pawnbroker’s daughter. It was a nun they say invented +barbed wire. + +He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. Rover +cycleshop. Those races are on today. How long ago is that? Year Phil +Gilligan died. We were in Lombard street west. Wait: was in Thom’s. Got +the job in Wisdom Hely’s year we married. Six years. Ten years ago: +ninetyfour he died yes that’s right the big fire at Arnott’s. Val +Dillon was lord mayor. The Glencree dinner. Alderman Robert O’Reilly +emptying the port into his soup before the flag fell. Bobbob lapping it +for the inner alderman. Couldn’t hear what the band played. For what we +have already received may the Lord make us. Milly was a kiddy then. +Molly had that elephantgrey dress with the braided frogs. Mantailored +with selfcovered buttons. She didn’t like it because I sprained my +ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the Sugarloaf. As if that. Old +Goodwin’s tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Flies’ picnic too. +Never put a dress on her back like it. Fitted her like a glove, +shoulders and hips. Just beginning to plump it out well. Rabbitpie we +had that day. People looking after her. + +Happy. Happier then. Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper. +Dockrell’s, one and ninepence a dozen. Milly’s tubbing night. American +soap I bought: elderflower. Cosy smell of her bathwater. Funny she +looked soaped all over. Shapely too. Now photography. Poor papa’s +daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Hereditary taste. + +He walked along the curbstone. + +Stream of life. What was the name of that priestylooking chap was +always squinting in when he passed? Weak eyes, woman. Stopped in +Citron’s saint Kevin’s parade. Pen something. Pendennis? My memory is +getting. Pen ...? Of course it’s years ago. Noise of the trams +probably. Well, if he couldn’t remember the dayfather’s name that he +sees every day. + +Bartell d’Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. Seeing her home +after practice. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. Gave her +that song _Winds that blow from the south_. + +Windy night that was I went to fetch her there was that lodge meeting +on about those lottery tickets after Goodwin’s concert in the +supperroom or oakroom of the Mansion house. He and I behind. Sheet of +her music blew out of my hand against the High school railings. Lucky +it didn’t. Thing like that spoils the effect of a night for her. +Professor Goodwin linking her in front. Shaky on his pins, poor old +sot. His farewell concerts. Positively last appearance on any stage. +May be for months and may be for never. Remember her laughing at the +wind, her blizzard collar up. Corner of Harcourt road remember that +gust. Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old +Goodwin. She did get flushed in the wind. Remember when we got home +raking up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her +supper with the Chutney sauce she liked. And the mulled rum. Could see +her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the busk of her stays: +white. + +Swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed. Always warm from her. +Always liked to let her self out. Sitting there after till near two +taking out her hairpins. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. Happy. Happy. +That was the night... + +—O, Mr Bloom, how do you do? + +—O, how do you do, Mrs Breen? + +—No use complaining. How is Molly those times? Haven’t seen her for +ages. + +—In the pink, Mr Bloom said gaily. Milly has a position down in +Mullingar, you know. + +—Go away! Isn’t that grand for her? + +—Yes. In a photographer’s there. Getting on like a house on fire. How +are all your charges? + +—All on the baker’s list, Mrs Breen said. + +How many has she? No other in sight. + +—You’re in black, I see. You have no... + +—No, Mr Bloom said. I have just come from a funeral. + +Going to crop up all day, I foresee. Who’s dead, when and what did he +die of? Turn up like a bad penny. + +—O, dear me, Mrs Breen said. I hope it wasn’t any near relation. + +May as well get her sympathy. + +—Dignam, Mr Bloom said. An old friend of mine. He died quite suddenly, +poor fellow. Heart trouble, I believe. Funeral was this morning. + + Your funeral’s tomorrow + While you’re coming through the rye. + Diddlediddle dumdum + Diddlediddle... + +—Sad to lose the old friends, Mrs Breen’s womaneyes said melancholily. + +Now that’s quite enough about that. Just: quietly: husband. + +—And your lord and master? + +Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Hasn’t lost them anyhow. + +—O, don’t be talking! she said. He’s a caution to rattlesnakes. He’s in +there now with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. He has me +heartscalded. Wait till I show you. + +Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured +out from Harrison’s. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom’s +gullet. Want to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, +or they’d taste it with the hot tea. Or is it from her? A barefoot arab +stood over the grating, breathing in the fumes. Deaden the gnaw of +hunger that way. Pleasure or pain is it? Penny dinner. Knife and fork +chained to the table. + +Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Hatpin: ought to have a guard on +those things. Stick it in a chap’s eye in the tram. Rummaging. Open. +Money. Please take one. Devils if they lose sixpence. Raise Cain. +Husband barging. Where’s the ten shillings I gave you on Monday? Are +you feeding your little brother’s family? Soiled handkerchief: +medicinebottle. Pastille that was fell. What is she?... + +—There must be a new moon out, she said. He’s always bad then. Do you +know what he did last night? + +Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide in +alarm, yet smiling. + +—What? Mr Bloom asked. + +Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me. + +—Woke me up in the night, she said. Dream he had, a nightmare. + +Indiges. + +—Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs. + +—The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said. + +She took a folded postcard from her handbag. + +—Read that, she said. He got it this morning. + +—What is it? Mr Bloom asked, taking the card. U. P.? + +—U. p: up, she said. Someone taking a rise out of him. It’s a great +shame for them whoever he is. + +—Indeed it is, Mr Bloom said. + +She took back the card, sighing. + +—And now he’s going round to Mr Menton’s office. He’s going to take an +action for ten thousand pounds, he says. + +She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch. + +Same blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen +its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three +old grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. She used to be a +tasty dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than +Molly. + +See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex. + +He looked still at her, holding back behind his look his discontent. +Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. I’m hungry too. Flakes of +pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her +cheek. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Josie +Powell that was. In Luke Doyle’s long ago. Dolphin’s Barn, the +charades. U. p: up. + +Change the subject. + +—Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Mr Bloom asked. + +—Mina Purefoy? she said. + +Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers’ Club. Matcham often thinks of +the masterstroke. Did I pull the chain? Yes. The last act. + +—Yes. + +—I just called to ask on the way in is she over it. She’s in the +lying-in hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She’s three +days bad now. + +—O, Mr Bloom said. I’m sorry to hear that. + +—Yes, Mrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It’s a very stiff +birth, the nurse told me. + +—O, Mr Bloom said. + +His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in +compassion. Dth! Dth! + +—I’m sorry to hear that, he said. Poor thing! Three days! That’s +terrible for her. + +Mrs Breen nodded. + +—She was taken bad on the Tuesday... + +Mr Bloom touched her funnybone gently, warning her: + +—Mind! Let this man pass. + +A bony form strode along the curbstone from the river staring with a +rapt gaze into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass. Tight as a +skullpiece a tiny hat gripped his head. From his arm a folded dustcoat, +a stick and an umbrella dangled to his stride. + +—Watch him, Mr Bloom said. He always walks outside the lampposts. +Watch! + +—Who is he if it’s a fair question? Mrs Breen asked. Is he dotty? + +—His name is Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr +Bloom said smiling. Watch! + +—He has enough of them, she said. Denis will be like that one of these +days. + +She broke off suddenly. + +—There he is, she said. I must go after him. Goodbye. Remember me to +Molly, won’t you? + +—I will, Mr Bloom said. + +He watched her dodge through passers towards the shopfronts. Denis +Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of +Harrison’s hugging two heavy tomes to his ribs. Blown in from the bay. +Like old times. He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and +thrust his dull grey beard towards her, his loose jaw wagging as he +spoke earnestly. + +Meshuggah. Off his chump. + +Mr Bloom walked on again easily, seeing ahead of him in sunlight the +tight skullpiece, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat. Going the two +days. Watch him! Out he goes again. One way of getting on in the world. +And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Hard time she must have +with him. + +U. p: up. I’ll take my oath that’s Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Wrote +it for a lark in the Scotch house I bet anything. Round to Menton’s +office. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Be a feast for the +gods. + +He passed the _Irish Times_. There might be other answers lying there. +Like to answer them all. Good system for criminals. Code. At their +lunch now. Clerk with the glasses there doesn’t know me. O, leave them +there to simmer. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. +Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. I called +you naughty darling because I do not like that other world. Please tell +me what is the meaning. Please tell me what perfume does your wife. +Tell me who made the world. The way they spring those questions on you. +And the other one Lizzie Twigg. My literary efforts have had the good +fortune to meet with the approval of the eminent poet A. E. (Mr Geo. +Russell). No time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of +poetry. + +Best paper by long chalks for a small ad. Got the provinces now. Cook +and general, exc. cuisine, housemaid kept. Wanted live man for spirit +counter. Resp. girl (R.C.) wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork +shop. James Carlisle made that. Six and a half per cent dividend. Made +a big deal on Coates’s shares. Ca’ canny. Cunning old Scotch hunks. All +the toady news. Our gracious and popular vicereine. Bought the _Irish +Field_ now. Lady Mountcashel has quite recovered after her confinement +and rode out with the Ward Union staghounds at the enlargement +yesterday at Rathoath. Uneatable fox. Pothunters too. Fear injects +juices make it tender enough for them. Riding astride. Sit her horse +like a man. Weightcarrying huntress. No sidesaddle or pillion for her, +not for Joe. First to the meet and in at the death. Strong as a brood +mare some of those horsey women. Swagger around livery stables. Toss +off a glass of brandy neat while you’d say knife. That one at the +Grosvenor this morning. Up with her on the car: wishswish. Stonewall or +fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Think that pugnosed driver did it +out of spite. Who is this she was like? O yes! Mrs Miriam Dandrade that +sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the Shelbourne hotel. +Divorced Spanish American. Didn’t take a feather out of her my handling +them. As if I was her clotheshorse. Saw her in the viceregal party when +Stubbs the park ranger got me in with Whelan of the _Express._ +Scavenging what the quality left. High tea. Mayonnaise I poured on the +plums thinking it was custard. Her ears ought to have tingled for a few +weeks after. Want to be a bull for her. Born courtesan. No nursery work +for her, thanks. + +Poor Mrs Purefoy! Methodist husband. Method in his madness. Saffron bun +and milk and soda lunch in the educational dairy. Y. M. C. A. Eating +with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the minute. And still his +muttonchop whiskers grew. Supposed to be well connected. Theodore’s +cousin in Dublin Castle. One tony relative in every family. Hardy +annuals he presents her with. Saw him out at the Three Jolly Topers +marching along bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a +marketnet. The squallers. Poor thing! Then having to give the breast +year after year all hours of the night. Selfish those t.t’s are. Dog in +the manger. Only one lump of sugar in my tea, if you please. + +He stood at Fleet street crossing. Luncheon interval. A sixpenny at +Rowe’s? Must look up that ad in the national library. An eightpenny in +the Burton. Better. On my way. + +He walked on past Bolton’s Westmoreland house. Tea. Tea. Tea. I forgot +to tap Tom Kernan. + +Sss. Dth, dth, dth! Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a +vinegared handkerchief round her forehead, her belly swollen out. Phew! +Dreadful simply! Child’s head too big: forceps. Doubled up inside her +trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the way out. Kill me +that would. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. They ought to invent +something to stop that. Life with hard labour. Twilight sleep idea: +queen Victoria was given that. Nine she had. A good layer. Old woman +that lived in a shoe she had so many children. Suppose he was +consumptive. Time someone thought about it instead of gassing about the +what was it the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence. Flapdoodle to +feed fools on. They could easily have big establishments whole thing +quite painless out of all the taxes give every child born five quid at +compound interest up to twentyone five per cent is a hundred shillings +and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage +people to put by money save hundred and ten and a bit twentyone years +want to work it out on paper come to a tidy sum more than you think. + +Not stillborn of course. They are not even registered. Trouble for +nothing. + +Funny sight two of them together, their bellies out. Molly and Mrs +Moisel. Mothers’ meeting. Phthisis retires for the time being, then +returns. How flat they look all of a sudden after. Peaceful eyes. +Weight off their mind. Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. All my +babies, she said. The spoon of pap in her mouth before she fed them. O, +that’s nyumnyum. Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall’s son. His first +bow to the public. Head like a prize pumpkin. Snuffy Dr Murren. People +knocking them up at all hours. For God’ sake, doctor. Wife in her +throes. Then keep them waiting months for their fee. To attendance on +your wife. No gratitude in people. Humane doctors, most of them. + +Before the huge high door of the Irish house of parliament a flock of +pigeons flew. Their little frolic after meals. Who will we do it on? I +pick the fellow in black. Here goes. Here’s good luck. Must be +thrilling from the air. Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in the +trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Mackerel they called me. + +A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching in Indian +file. Goosestep. Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their +truncheons. After their feed with a good load of fat soup under their +belts. Policeman’s lot is oft a happy one. They split up in groups and +scattered, saluting, towards their beats. Let out to graze. Best moment +to attack one in pudding time. A punch in his dinner. A squad of +others, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the +station. Bound for their troughs. Prepare to receive cavalry. Prepare +to receive soup. + +He crossed under Tommy Moore’s roguish finger. They did right to put +him up over a urinal: meeting of the waters. Ought to be places for +women. Running into cakeshops. Settle my hat straight. _There is not in +this wide world a vallee_. Great song of Julia Morkan’s. Kept her voice +up to the very last. Pupil of Michael Balfe’s, wasn’t she? + +He gazed after the last broad tunic. Nasty customers to tackle. Jack +Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. If a fellow gave them +trouble being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the +bridewell. Can’t blame them after all with the job they have especially +the young hornies. That horsepoliceman the day Joe Chamberlain was +given his degree in Trinity he got a run for his money. My word he did! +His horse’s hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Lucky I had +the presence of mind to dive into Manning’s or I was souped. He did +come a wallop, by George. Must have cracked his skull on the +cobblestones. I oughtn’t to have got myself swept along with those +medicals. And the Trinity jibs in their mortarboards. Looking for +trouble. Still I got to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting +for me in the Mater and now he’s in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. +Wheels within wheels. Police whistle in my ears still. All skedaddled. +Why he fixed on me. Give me in charge. Right here it began. + +—Up the Boers! + +—Three cheers for De Wet! + +—We’ll hang Joe Chamberlain on a sourapple tree. + +Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out. Vinegar hill. +The Butter exchange band. Few years’ time half of them magistrates and +civil servants. War comes on: into the army helterskelter: same fellows +used to. Whether on the scaffold high. + +Never know who you’re talking to. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in +his eye. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on +the invincibles. Member of the corporation too. Egging raw youths on to +get in the know all the time drawing secret service pay from the +castle. Drop him like a hot potato. Why those plainclothes men are +always courting slaveys. Easily twig a man used to uniform. +Squarepushing up against a backdoor. Maul her a bit. Then the next +thing on the menu. And who is the gentleman does be visiting there? Was +the young master saying anything? Peeping Tom through the keyhole. +Decoy duck. Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms +ironing. + +—Are those yours, Mary? + +—I don’t wear such things... Stop or I’ll tell the missus on you. Out +half the night. + +—There are great times coming, Mary. Wait till you see. + +—Ah, gelong with your great times coming. + +Barmaids too. Tobaccoshopgirls. + +James Stephens’ idea was the best. He knew them. Circles of ten so that +a fellow couldn’t round on more than his own ring. Sinn Fein. Back out +you get the knife. Hidden hand. Stay in. The firing squad. Turnkey’s +daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk. Putting up in the +Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. Garibaldi. + +You must have a certain fascination: Parnell. Arthur Griffith is a +squareheaded fellow but he has no go in him for the mob. Or gas about +our lovely land. Gammon and spinach. Dublin Bakery Company’s tearoom. +Debating societies. That republicanism is the best form of government. +That the language question should take precedence of the economic +question. Have your daughters inveigling them to your house. Stuff them +up with meat and drink. Michaelmas goose. Here’s a good lump of thyme +seasoning under the apron for you. Have another quart of goosegrease +before it gets too cold. Halffed enthusiasts. Penny roll and a walk +with the band. No grace for the carver. The thought that the other chap +pays best sauce in the world. Make themselves thoroughly at home. Show +us over those apricots, meaning peaches. The not far distant day. +Homerule sun rising up in the northwest. + +His smile faded as he walked, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, +shadowing Trinity’s surly front. Trams passed one another, ingoing, +outgoing, clanging. Useless words. Things go on same, day after day: +squads of police marching out, back: trams in, out. Those two loonies +mooching about. Dignam carted off. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a bed +groaning to have a child tugged out of her. One born every second +somewhere. Other dying every second. Since I fed the birds five +minutes. Three hundred kicked the bucket. Other three hundred born, +washing the blood off, all are washed in the blood of the lamb, bawling +maaaaaa. + +Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, passing away too: other +coming on, passing on. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of +pavements, piledup bricks, stones. Changing hands. This owner, that. +Landlord never dies they say. Other steps into his shoes when he gets +his notice to quit. They buy the place up with gold and still they have +all the gold. Swindle in it somewhere. Piled up in cities, worn away +age after age. Pyramids in sand. Built on bread and onions. Slaves +Chinese wall. Babylon. Big stones left. Round towers. Rest rubble, +sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt. Kerwan’s mushroom houses built of +breeze. Shelter, for the night. + +No-one is anything. + +This is the very worst hour of the day. Vitality. Dull, gloomy: hate +this hour. Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed. + +Provost’s house. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Well tinned in +there. Like a mortuary chapel. Wouldn’t live in it if they paid me. +Hope they have liver and bacon today. Nature abhors a vacuum. + +The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the +silverware opposite in Walter Sexton’s window by which John Howard +Parnell passed, unseeing. + +There he is: the brother. Image of him. Haunting face. Now that’s a +coincidence. Course hundreds of times you think of a person and don’t +meet him. Like a man walking in his sleep. No-one knows him. Must be a +corporation meeting today. They say he never put on the city marshal’s +uniform since he got the job. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on his +high horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. Look at the +woebegone walk of him. Eaten a bad egg. Poached eyes on ghost. I have a +pain. Great man’s brother: his brother’s brother. He’d look nice on the +city charger. Drop into the D.B.C. probably for his coffee, play chess +there. His brother used men as pawns. Let them all go to pot. Afraid to +pass a remark on him. Freeze them up with that eye of his. That’s the +fascination: the name. All a bit touched. Mad Fanny and his other +sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness. Bolt upright +like surgeon M’Ardle. Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath. +Apply for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. The +patriot’s banquet. Eating orangepeels in the park. Simon Dedalus said +when they put him in parliament that Parnell would come back from the +grave and lead him out of the house of commons by the arm. + +—Of the twoheaded octopus, one of whose heads is the head upon which +the ends of the world have forgotten to come while the other speaks +with a Scotch accent. The tentacles... + +They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Beard and +bicycle. Young woman. + +And there he is too. Now that’s really a coincidence: second time. +Coming events cast their shadows before. With the approval of the +eminent poet, Mr Geo. Russell. That might be Lizzie Twigg with him. A. +E.: what does that mean? Initials perhaps. Albert Edward, Arthur +Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. What was he saying? The ends of the +world with a Scotch accent. Tentacles: octopus. Something occult: +symbolism. Holding forth. She’s taking it all in. Not saying a word. To +aid gentleman in literary work. + +His eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and bicycle, a +listening woman at his side. Coming from the vegetarian. Only +weggebobbles and fruit. Don’t eat a beefsteak. If you do the eyes of +that cow will pursue you through all eternity. They say it’s healthier. +Windandwatery though. Tried it. Keep you on the run all day. Bad as a +bloater. Dreams all night. Why do they call that thing they gave me +nutsteak? Nutarians. Fruitarians. To give you the idea you are eating +rumpsteak. Absurd. Salty too. They cook in soda. Keep you sitting by +the tap all night. + +Her stockings are loose over her ankles. I detest that: so tasteless. +Those literary etherial people they are all. Dreamy, cloudy, +symbolistic. Esthetes they are. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was that +kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical. +For example one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their +shirts you couldn’t squeeze a line of poetry out of him. Don’t know +what poetry is even. Must be in a certain mood. + + The dreamy cloudy gull + Waves o’er the waters dull. + +He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window of +Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. Or will I drop into old +Harris’s and have a chat with young Sinclair? Wellmannered fellow. +Probably at his lunch. Must get those old glasses of mine set right. +Goerz lenses six guineas. Germans making their way everywhere. Sell on +easy terms to capture trade. Undercutting. Might chance on a pair in +the railway lost property office. Astonishing the things people leave +behind them in trains and cloakrooms. What do they be thinking about? +Women too. Incredible. Last year travelling to Ennis had to pick up +that farmer’s daughter’s bag and hand it to her at Limerick junction. +Unclaimed money too. There’s a little watch up there on the roof of the +bank to test those glasses by. + +His lids came down on the lower rims of his irides. Can’t see it. If +you imagine it’s there you can almost see it. Can’t see it. + +He faced about and, standing between the awnings, held out his right +hand at arm’s length towards the sun. Wanted to try that often. Yes: +completely. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun’s disk. +Must be the focus where the rays cross. If I had black glasses. +Interesting. There was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we were +in Lombard street west. Looking up from the back garden. Terrific +explosions they are. There will be a total eclipse this year: autumn +some time. + +Now that I come to think of it that ball falls at Greenwich time. It’s +the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Must go out there +some first Saturday of the month. If I could get an introduction to +professor Joly or learn up something about his family. That would do +to: man always feels complimented. Flattery where least expected. +Nobleman proud to be descended from some king’s mistress. His +foremother. Lay it on with a trowel. Cap in hand goes through the land. +Not go in and blurt out what you know you’re not to: what’s parallax? +Show this gentleman the door. + +Ah. + +His hand fell to his side again. + +Never know anything about it. Waste of time. Gasballs spinning about, +crossing each other, passing. Same old dingdong always. Gas: then +solid: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen +rock, like that pineapple rock. The moon. Must be a new moon out, she +said. I believe there is. + +He went on by la maison Claire. + +Wait. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly +there is a new moon. Walking down by the Tolka. Not bad for a Fairview +moon. She was humming. The young May moon she’s beaming, love. He other +side of her. Elbow, arm. He. Glowworm’s la-amp is gleaming, love. +Touch. Fingers. Asking. Answer. Yes. + +Stop. Stop. If it was it was. Must. + +Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court. + +With a keep quiet relief his eyes took note this is the street here +middle of the day of Bob Doran’s bottle shoulders. On his annual bend, +M’Coy said. They drink in order to say or do something or _cherchez la +femme_. Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the +rest of the year sober as a judge. + +Yes. Thought so. Sloping into the Empire. Gone. Plain soda would do him +good. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the +Queen’s. Broth of a boy. Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon +face in a poky bonnet. Three Purty Maids from School. How time flies, +eh? Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Drinkers, drinking, +laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. More power, Pat. +Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. Take off that white +hat. His parboiled eyes. Where is he now? Beggar somewhere. The harp +that once did starve us all. + +I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I? Twentyeight I was. +She twentythree. When we left Lombard street west something changed. +Could never like it again after Rudy. Can’t bring back time. Like +holding water in your hand. Would you go back to then? Just beginning +then. Would you? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty +boy? Wants to sew on buttons for me. I must answer. Write it in the +library. + +Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Muslin prints, +silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in +the baking causeway. Thick feet that woman has in the white stockings. +Hope the rain mucks them up on her. Countrybred chawbacon. All the beef +to the heels were in. Always gives a woman clumsy feet. Molly looks out +of plumb. + +He passed, dallying, the windows of Brown Thomas, silk mercers. +Cascades of ribbons. Flimsy China silks. A tilted urn poured from its +mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. The huguenots +brought that here. _La causa è santa!_ Tara tara. Great chorus that. +Taree tara. Must be washed in rainwater. Meyerbeer. Tara: bom bom bom. + +Pincushions. I’m a long time threatening to buy one. Sticking them all +over the place. Needles in window curtains. + +He bared slightly his left forearm. Scrape: nearly gone. Not today +anyhow. Must go back for that lotion. For her birthday perhaps. +Junejulyaugseptember eighth. Nearly three months off. Then she mightn’t +like it. Women won’t pick up pins. Say it cuts lo. + +Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk +stockings. + +Useless to go back. Had to be. Tell me all. + +High voices. Sunwarm silk. Jingling harnesses. All for a woman, home +and houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. Agendath +Netaim. Wealth of the world. + +A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. His brain yielded. +Perfume of embraces all him assailed. With hungered flesh obscurely, he +mutely craved to adore. + +Duke street. Here we are. Must eat. The Burton. Feel better then. + +He turned Combridge’s corner, still pursued. Jingling, hoofthuds. +Perfumed bodies, warm, full. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer +fields, tangled pressed grass, in trickling hallways of tenements, +along sofas, creaking beds. + +—Jack, love! + +—Darling! + +—Kiss me, Reggy! + +—My boy! + +—Love! + +His heart astir he pushed in the door of the Burton restaurant. Stink +gripped his trembling breath: pungent meatjuice, slush of greens. See +the animals feed. + +Men, men, men. + +Perched on high stools by the bar, hats shoved back, at the tables +calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy +food, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. A pallid suetfaced +young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his napkin. +New set of microbes. A man with an infant’s saucestained napkin tucked +round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. A man spitting back +on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew +it. Chump chop from the grill. Bolting to get it over. Sad booser’s +eyes. Bitten off more than he can chew. Am I like that? See ourselves +as others see us. Hungry man is an angry man. Working tooth and jaw. +Don’t! O! A bone! That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the +schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty southward of the Boyne. Wonder what +he was eating. Something galoptious. Saint Patrick converted him to +Christianity. Couldn’t swallow it all however. + +—Roast beef and cabbage. + +—One stew. + +Smells of men. Spat-on sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarettesmoke, reek +of plug, spilt beer, men’s beery piss, the stale of ferment. + +His gorge rose. + +Couldn’t eat a morsel here. Fellow sharpening knife and fork to eat all +before him, old chap picking his tootles. Slight spasm, full, chewing +the cud. Before and after. Grace after meals. Look on this picture then +on that. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread. Lick it +off the plate, man! Get out of this. + +He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of +his nose. + +—Two stouts here. + +—One corned and cabbage. + +That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life depended +on it. Good stroke. Give me the fidgets to look. Safer to eat from his +three hands. Tear it limb from limb. Second nature to him. Born with a +silver knife in his mouth. That’s witty, I think. Or no. Silver means +born rich. Born with a knife. But then the allusion is lost. + +An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Rock, the head +bailiff, standing at the bar blew the foamy crown from his tankard. +Well up: it splashed yellow near his boot. A diner, knife and fork +upright, elbows on table, ready for a second helping stared towards the +foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. Other chap telling him +something with his mouth full. Sympathetic listener. Table talk. I +munched hum un thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday. Ha? Did you, faith? + +Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his lips. His eyes said: + +—Not here. Don’t see him. + +Out. I hate dirty eaters. + +He backed towards the door. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne’s. Stopgap. +Keep me going. Had a good breakfast. + +—Roast and mashed here. + +—Pint of stout. + +Every fellow for his own, tooth and nail. Gulp. Grub. Gulp. Gobstuff. + +He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street. +Eat or be eaten. Kill! Kill! + +Suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps. All trotting down +with porringers and tommycans to be filled. Devour contents in the +street. John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every +mother’s son don’t talk of your provosts and provost of Trinity women +and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. From +Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans’ dwellings, north Dublin union, +lord mayor in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a bathchair. My +plate’s empty. After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Like sir +Philip Crampton’s fountain. Rub off the microbes with your +handkerchief. Next chap rubs on a new batch with his. Father O’Flynn +would make hares of them all. Have rows all the same. All for number +one. Children fighting for the scrapings of the pot. Want a souppot as +big as the Phoenix park. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of +it. Hate people all round you. City Arms hotel _table d’hôte_ she +called it. Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose thoughts you’re +chewing. Then who’d wash up all the plates and forks? Might be all +feeding on tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse. + +After all there’s a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from +the earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp +of onions mushrooms truffles. Pain to the animal too. Pluck and draw +fowl. Wretched brutes there at the cattlemarket waiting for the poleaxe +to split their skulls open. Moo. Poor trembling calves. Meh. Staggering +bob. Bubble and squeak. Butchers’ buckets wobbly lights. Give us that +brisket off the hook. Plup. Rawhead and bloody bones. Flayed glasseyed +sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling +nosejam on sawdust. Top and lashers going out. Don’t maul them pieces, +young one. + +Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Blood always needed. +Insidious. Lick it up smokinghot, thick sugary. Famished ghosts. + +Ah, I’m hungry. + +He entered Davy Byrne’s. Moral pub. He doesn’t chat. Stands a drink now +and then. But in leapyear once in four. Cashed a cheque for me once. + +What will I take now? He drew his watch. Let me see now. Shandygaff? + +—Hello, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said from his nook. + +—Hello, Flynn. + +—How’s things? + +—Tiptop... Let me see. I’ll take a glass of burgundy and... let me see. + +Sardines on the shelves. Almost taste them by looking. Sandwich? Ham +and his descendants musterred and bred there. Potted meats. What is +home without Plumtree’s potted meat? Incomplete. What a stupid ad! +Under the obituary notices they stuck it. All up a plumtree. Dignam’s +potted meat. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. White missionary too +salty. Like pickled pork. Expect the chief consumes the parts of +honour. Ought to be tough from exercise. His wives in a row to watch +the effect. _There was a right royal old nigger. Who ate or something +the somethings of the reverend Mr MacTrigger_. With it an abode of +bliss. Lord knows what concoction. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked +and minced up. Puzzle find the meat. Kosher. No meat and milk together. +Hygiene that was what they call now. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of +inside. Peace and war depend on some fellow’s digestion. Religions. +Christmas turkeys and geese. Slaughter of innocents. Eat drink and be +merry. Then casual wards full after. Heads bandaged. Cheese digests all +but itself. Mity cheese. + +—Have you a cheese sandwich? + +—Yes, sir. + +Like a few olives too if they had them. Italian I prefer. Good glass of +burgundy take away that. Lubricate. A nice salad, cool as a cucumber, +Tom Kernan can dress. Puts gusto into it. Pure olive oil. Milly served +me that cutlet with a sprig of parsley. Take one Spanish onion. God +made food, the devil the cooks. Devilled crab. + +—Wife well? + +—Quite well, thanks... A cheese sandwich, then. Gorgonzola, have you? + +—Yes, sir. + +Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. + +—Doing any singing those times? + +Look at his mouth. Could whistle in his own ear. Flap ears to match. +Music. Knows as much about it as my coachman. Still better tell him. +Does no harm. Free ad. + +—She’s engaged for a big tour end of this month. You may have heard +perhaps. + +—No. O, that’s the style. Who’s getting it up? + +The curate served. + +—How much is that? + +—Seven d., sir... Thank you, sir. + +Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. _Mr MacTrigger_. Easier +than the dreamy creamy stuff. _His five hundred wives. Had the time of +their lives._ + +—Mustard, sir? + +—Thank you. + +He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. _Their lives_. I have +it. _It grew bigger and bigger and bigger_. + +—Getting it up? he said. Well, it’s like a company idea, you see. Part +shares and part profits. + +—Ay, now I remember, Nosey Flynn said, putting his hand in his pocket +to scratch his groin. Who is this was telling me? Isn’t Blazes Boylan +mixed up in it? + +A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom’s heart. He +raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock. Two. Pub clock +five minutes fast. Time going on. Hands moving. Two. Not yet. + +His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, yearned more longly, +longingly. + +Wine. + +He smellsipped the cordial juice and, bidding his throat strongly to +speed it, set his wineglass delicately down. + +—Yes, he said. He’s the organiser in point of fact. + +No fear: no brains. + +Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. Flea having a good square meal. + +—He had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, over that +boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Portobello +barracks. By God, he had the little kipper down in the county Carlow he +was telling me... + +Hope that dewdrop doesn’t come down into his glass. No, snuffled it up. + +—For near a month, man, before it came off. Sucking duck eggs by God +till further orders. Keep him off the boose, see? O, by God, Blazes is +a hairy chap. + +Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, +cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Herring’s blush. Whose +smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete. Too much fat +on the parsnips. + +—And here’s himself and pepper on him, Nosey Flynn said. Can you give +us a good one for the Gold cup? + +—I’m off that, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne answered. I never put anything on a +horse. + +—You’re right there, Nosey Flynn said. + +Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with relish of +disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Sips of his +wine soothed his palate. Not logwood that. Tastes fuller this weather +with the chill off. + +Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed. Like +the way it curves there. + +—I wouldn’t do anything at all in that line, Davy Byrne said. It ruined +many a man, the same horses. + +Vintners’ sweepstake. Licensed for the sale of beer, wine and spirits +for consumption on the premises. Heads I win tails you lose. + +—True for you, Nosey Flynn said. Unless you’re in the know. There’s no +straight sport going now. Lenehan gets some good ones. He’s giving +Sceptre today. Zinfandel’s the favourite, Lord Howard de Walden’s, won +at Epsom. Morny Cannon is riding him. I could have got seven to one +against Saint Amant a fortnight before. + +—That so? Davy Byrne said... + +He went towards the window and, taking up the pettycash book, scanned +its pages. + +—I could, faith, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. That was a rare bit of +horseflesh. Saint Frusquin was her sire. She won in a thunderstorm, +Rothschild’s filly, with wadding in her ears. Blue jacket and yellow +cap. Bad luck to big Ben Dollard and his John O’Gaunt. He put me off +it. Ay. + +He drank resignedly from his tumbler, running his fingers down the +flutes. + +—Ay, he said, sighing. + +Mr Bloom, champing, standing, looked upon his sigh. Nosey numbskull. +Will I tell him that horse Lenehan? He knows already. Better let him +forget. Go and lose more. Fool and his money. Dewdrop coming down +again. Cold nose he’d have kissing a woman. Still they might like. +Prickly beards they like. Dogs’ cold noses. Old Mrs Riordan with the +rumbling stomach’s Skye terrier in the City Arms hotel. Molly fondling +him in her lap. O, the big doggybowwowsywowsy! + +Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment mawkish +cheese. Nice wine it is. Taste it better because I’m not thirsty. Bath +of course does that. Just a bite or two. Then about six o’clock I can. +Six. Six. Time will be gone then. She... + +Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. I wanted that badly. Felt so off +colour. His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy +lobsters’ claws. All the odd things people pick up for food. Out of +shells, periwinkles with a pin, off trees, snails out of the ground the +French eat, out of the sea with bait on a hook. Silly fish learn +nothing in a thousand years. If you didn’t know risky putting anything +into your mouth. Poisonous berries. Johnny Magories. Roundness you +think good. Gaudy colour warns you off. One fellow told another and so +on. Try it on the dog first. Led on by the smell or the look. Tempting +fruit. Ice cones. Cream. Instinct. Orangegroves for instance. Need +artificial irrigation. Bleibtreustrasse. Yes but what about oysters. +Unsightly like a clot of phlegm. Filthy shells. Devil to open them too. +Who found them out? Garbage, sewage they feed on. Fizz and Red bank +oysters. Effect on the sexual. Aphrodis. He was in the Red Bank this +morning. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed +no June has no ar no oysters. But there are people like things high. +Tainted game. Jugged hare. First catch your hare. Chinese eating eggs +fifty years old, blue and green again. Dinner of thirty courses. Each +dish harmless might mix inside. Idea for a poison mystery. That +archduke Leopold was it no yes or was it Otto one of those Habsburgs? +Or who was it used to eat the scruff off his own head? Cheapest lunch +in town. Of course aristocrats, then the others copy to be in the +fashion. Milly too rock oil and flour. Raw pastry I like myself. Half +the catch of oysters they throw back in the sea to keep up the price. +Cheap no-one would buy. Caviare. Do the grand. Hock in green glasses. +Swell blowout. Lady this. Powdered bosom pearls. The _élite. Crème de +la crème_. They want special dishes to pretend they’re. Hermit with a +platter of pulse keep down the stings of the flesh. Know me come eat +with me. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the butcher, right to +venisons of the forest from his ex. Send him back the half of a cow. +Spread I saw down in the Master of the Rolls’ kitchen area. Whitehatted +_chef_ like a rabbi. Combustible duck. Curly cabbage _à la duchesse de +Parme_. Just as well to write it on the bill of fare so you can know +what you’ve eaten. Too many drugs spoil the broth. I know it myself. +Dosing it with Edwards’ desiccated soup. Geese stuffed silly for them. +Lobsters boiled alive. Do ptake some ptarmigan. Wouldn’t mind being a +waiter in a swell hotel. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. May I +tempt you to a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat? Yes, do +bedad. And she did bedad. Huguenot name I expect that. A miss Dubedat +lived in Killiney, I remember. _Du de la_ is French. Still it’s the +same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out +of making money hand over fist finger in fishes’ gills can’t write his +name on a cheque think he was painting the landscape with his mouth +twisted. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth +fifty thousand pounds. + +Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck. + +Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the +winepress grapes of Burgundy. Sun’s heat it is. Seems to a secret touch +telling me memory. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Hidden under +wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. No sound. The sky. The +bay purple by the Lion’s head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards +Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried +cities. Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs in the heather +scrub my hand under her nape, you’ll toss me all. O wonder! Coolsoft +with ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not +turn away. Ravished over her I lay, full lips full open, kissed her +mouth. Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and +chewed. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her spittle. +Joy: I ate it: joy. Young life, her lips that gave me pouting. Soft +warm sticky gumjelly lips. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing +eyes. Pebbles fell. She lay still. A goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth +rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. +Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, +kissed her: eyes, her lips, her stretched neck beating, woman’s breasts +full in her blouse of nun’s veiling, fat nipples upright. Hot I tongued +her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair. +Kissed, she kissed me. + +Me. And me now. + +Stuck, the flies buzzed. + +His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab. +Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: +curves the world admires. Can see them library museum standing in the +round hall, naked goddesses. Aids to digestion. They don’t care what +man looks. All to see. Never speaking. I mean to say to fellows like +Flynn. Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? +Mortal! Put you in your proper place. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods +golden dishes, all ambrosial. Not like a tanner lunch we have, boiled +mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Nectar imagine it +drinking electricity: gods’ food. Lovely forms of women sculped +Junonian. Immortal lovely. And we stuffing food in one hole and out +behind: food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to feed it like +stoking an engine. They have no. Never looked. I’ll look today. Keeper +won’t see. Bend down let something fall see if she. + +Dribbling a quiet message from his bladder came to go to do not to do +there to do. A man and ready he drained his glass to the lees and +walked, to men too they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men +lovers, a youth enjoyed her, to the yard. + +When the sound of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said from his book: + +—What is this he is? Isn’t he in the insurance line? + +—He’s out of that long ago, Nosey Flynn said. He does canvassing for +the _Freeman._ + +—I know him well to see, Davy Byrne said. Is he in trouble? + +—Trouble? Nosey Flynn said. Not that I heard of. Why? + +—I noticed he was in mourning. + +—Was he? Nosey Flynn said. So he was, faith. I asked him how was all at +home. You’re right, by God. So he was. + +—I never broach the subject, Davy Byrne said humanely, if I see a +gentleman is in trouble that way. It only brings it up fresh in their +minds. + +—It’s not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. I met him the day before +yesterday and he coming out of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan’s +wife has in Henry street with a jar of cream in his hand taking it home +to his better half. She’s well nourished, I tell you. Plovers on toast. + +—And is he doing for the _Freeman?_ Davy Byrne said. + +Nosey Flynn pursed his lips. + +—He doesn’t buy cream on the ads he picks up. You can make bacon of +that. + +—How so? Davy Byrne asked, coming from his book. + +Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. He +winked. + +—He’s in the craft, he said. + +—Do you tell me so? Davy Byrne said. + +—Very much so, Nosey Flynn said. Ancient free and accepted order. He’s +an excellent brother. Light, life and love, by God. They give him a leg +up. I was told that by a—well, I won’t say who. + +—Is that a fact? + +—O, it’s a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. They stick to you when you’re +down. I know a fellow was trying to get into it. But they’re as close +as damn it. By God they did right to keep the women out of it. + +Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: + +—Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! + +—There was one woman, Nosey Flynn said, hid herself in a clock to find +out what they do be doing. But be damned but they smelt her out and +swore her in on the spot a master mason. That was one of the saint +Legers of Doneraile. + +Davy Byrne, sated after his yawn, said with tearwashed eyes: + +—And is that a fact? Decent quiet man he is. I often saw him in here +and I never once saw him—you know, over the line. + +—God Almighty couldn’t make him drunk, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Slips +off when the fun gets too hot. Didn’t you see him look at his watch? +Ah, you weren’t there. If you ask him to have a drink first thing he +does he outs with the watch to see what he ought to imbibe. Declare to +God he does. + +—There are some like that, Davy Byrne said. He’s a safe man, I’d say. + +—He’s not too bad, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling it up. He’s been known +to put his hand down too to help a fellow. Give the devil his due. O, +Bloom has his good points. But there’s one thing he’ll never do. + +His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog. + +—I know, Davy Byrne said. + +—Nothing in black and white, Nosey Flynn said. + +Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. Tom Rochford followed frowning, +a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat. + +—Day, Mr Byrne. + +—Day, gentlemen. + +They paused at the counter. + +—Who’s standing? Paddy Leonard asked. + +—I’m sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn answered. + +—Well, what’ll it be? Paddy Leonard asked. + +—I’ll take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said. + +—How much? Paddy Leonard cried. Since when, for God’ sake? What’s +yours, Tom? + +—How is the main drainage? Nosey Flynn asked, sipping. + +For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and +hiccupped. + +—Would I trouble you for a glass of fresh water, Mr Byrne? he said. + +—Certainly, sir. + +Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. + +—Lord love a duck, he said. Look at what I’m standing drinks to! Cold +water and gingerpop! Two fellows that would suck whisky off a sore leg. +He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Gold cup. A dead snip. + +—Zinfandel is it? Nosey Flynn asked. + +Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set +before him. + +—That cursed dyspepsia, he said before drinking. + +—Breadsoda is very good, Davy Byrne said. + +Tom Rochford nodded and drank. + +—Is it Zinfandel? + +—Say nothing! Bantam Lyons winked. I’m going to plunge five bob on my +own. + +—Tell us if you’re worth your salt and be damned to you, Paddy Leonard +said. Who gave it to you? + +Mr Bloom on his way out raised three fingers in greeting. + +—So long! Nosey Flynn said. + +The others turned. + +—That’s the man now that gave it to me, Bantam Lyons whispered. + +—Prrwht! Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Mr Byrne, sir, we’ll take two +of your small Jamesons after that and a... + +—Stone ginger, Davy Byrne added civilly. + +—Ay, Paddy Leonard said. A suckingbottle for the baby. + +Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, his tongue brushing his teeth +smooth. Something green it would have to be: spinach, say. Then with +those Röntgen rays searchlight you could. + +At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the +cobblestones and lapped it with new zest. Surfeit. Returned with thanks +having fully digested the contents. First sweet then savoury. Mr Bloom +coasted warily. Ruminants. His second course. Their upper jaw they +move. Wonder if Tom Rochford will do anything with that invention of +his? Wasting time explaining it to Flynn’s mouth. Lean people long +mouths. Ought to be a hall or a place where inventors could go in and +invent free. Course then you’d have all the cranks pestering. + +He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bars: + + Don Giovanni, a cenar teco + M’invitasti. + +Feel better. Burgundy. Good pick me up. Who distilled first? Some chap +in the blues. Dutch courage. That _Kilkenny People_ in the national +library now I must. + +Bare clean closestools waiting in the window of William Miller, +plumber, turned back his thoughts. They could: and watch it all the way +down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of the ribs years after, tour +round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric +juice coils of intestines like pipes. But the poor buffer would have to +stand all the time with his insides entrails on show. Science. + +—_A cenar teco._ + +What does that _teco_ mean? Tonight perhaps. + + Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited + To come to supper tonight, + The rum the rumdum. + +Doesn’t go properly. + +Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to. That’ll be two pounds ten about +two pounds eight. Three Hynes owes me. Two eleven. Prescott’s dyeworks +van over there. If I get Billy Prescott’s ad: two fifteen. Five guineas +about. On the pig’s back. + +Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her new +garters. + +Today. Today. Not think. + +Tour the south then. What about English wateringplaces? Brighton, +Margate. Piers by moonlight. Her voice floating out. Those lovely +seaside girls. Against John Long’s a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy +thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Handy man wants job. Small wages. +Will eat anything. + +Mr Bloom turned at Gray’s confectioner’s window of unbought tarts and +passed the reverend Thomas Connellan’s bookstore. _Why I left the +church of Rome? Birds’ Nest._ Women run him. They say they used to give +pauper children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato +blight. Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor +jews. Same bait. Why we left the church of Rome. + +A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. No +tram in sight. Wants to cross. + +—Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom asked. + +The blind stripling did not answer. His wallface frowned weakly. He +moved his head uncertainly. + +—You’re in Dawson street, Mr Bloom said. Molesworth street is opposite. +Do you want to cross? There’s nothing in the way. + +The cane moved out trembling to the left. Mr Bloom’s eye followed its +line and saw again the dyeworks’ van drawn up before Drago’s. Where I +saw his brillantined hair just when I was. Horse drooping. Driver in +John Long’s. Slaking his drouth. + +—There’s a van there, Mr Bloom said, but it’s not moving. I’ll see you +across. Do you want to go to Molesworth street? + +—Yes, the stripling answered. South Frederick street. + +—Come, Mr Bloom said. + +He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to +guide it forward. + +Say something to him. Better not do the condescending. They mistrust +what you tell them. Pass a common remark. + +—The rain kept off. + +No answer. + +Stains on his coat. Slobbers his food, I suppose. Tastes all different +for him. Have to be spoonfed first. Like a child’s hand, his hand. Like +Milly’s was. Sensitive. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand. Wonder if +he has a name. Van. Keep his cane clear of the horse’s legs: tired +drudge get his doze. That’s right. Clear. Behind a bull: in front of a +horse. + +—Thanks, sir. + +Knows I’m a man. Voice. + +—Right now? First turn to the left. + +The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his way, drawing +his cane back, feeling again. + +Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a flatcut suit of herringbone +tweed. Poor young fellow! How on earth did he know that van was there? +Must have felt it. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense +of volume. Weight or size of it, something blacker than the dark. +Wonder would he feel it if something was removed. Feel a gap. Queer +idea of Dublin he must have, tapping his way round by the stones. Could +he walk in a beeline if he hadn’t that cane? Bloodless pious face like +a fellow going in to be a priest. + +Penrose! That was that chap’s name. + +Look at all the things they can learn to do. Read with their fingers. +Tune pianos. Or we are surprised they have any brains. Why we think a +deformed person or a hunchback clever if he says something we might +say. Of course the other senses are more. Embroider. Plait baskets. +People ought to help. Workbasket I could buy for Molly’s birthday. +Hates sewing. Might take an objection. Dark men they call them. + +Sense of smell must be stronger too. Smells on all sides, bunched +together. Each street different smell. Each person too. Then the +spring, the summer: smells. Tastes? They say you can’t taste wines with +your eyes shut or a cold in the head. Also smoke in the dark they say +get no pleasure. + +And with a woman, for instance. More shameless not seeing. That girl +passing the Stewart institution, head in the air. Look at me. I have +them all on. Must be strange not to see her. Kind of a form in his +mind’s eye. The voice, temperatures: when he touches her with his +fingers must almost see the lines, the curves. His hands on her hair, +for instance. Say it was black, for instance. Good. We call it black. +Then passing over her white skin. Different feel perhaps. Feeling of +white. + +Postoffice. Must answer. Fag today. Send her a postal order two +shillings, half a crown. Accept my little present. Stationer’s just +here too. Wait. Think over it. + +With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above +his ears. Again. Fibres of fine fine straw. Then gently his finger felt +the skin of his right cheek. Downy hair there too. Not smooth enough. +The belly is the smoothest. No-one about. There he goes into Frederick +street. Perhaps to Levenston’s dancing academy piano. Might be settling +my braces. + +Walking by Doran’s publichouse he slid his hand between his waistcoat +and trousers and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of +his belly. But I know it’s whitey yellow. Want to try in the dark to +see. + +He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to. + +Poor fellow! Quite a boy. Terrible. Really terrible. What dreams would +he have, not seeing? Life a dream for him. Where is the justice being +born that way? All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned +and drowned in New York. Holocaust. Karma they call that transmigration +for sins you did in a past life the reincarnation met him pike hoses. +Dear, dear, dear. Pity, of course: but somehow you can’t cotton on to +them someway. + +Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons’ hall. Solemn as Troy. +After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Old legal cronies cracking a +magnum. Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the bluecoat +school. I sentenced him to ten years. I suppose he’d turn up his nose +at that stuff I drank. Vintage wine for them, the year marked on a +dusty bottle. Has his own ideas of justice in the recorder’s court. +Wellmeaning old man. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their +percentage manufacturing crime. Sends them to the rightabout. The devil +on moneylenders. Gave Reuben J a great strawcalling. Now he’s really +what they call a dirty jew. Power those judges have. Crusty old topers +in wigs. Bear with a sore paw. And may the Lord have mercy on your +soul. + +Hello, placard. Mirus bazaar. His Excellency the lord lieutenant. +Sixteenth. Today it is. In aid of funds for Mercer’s hospital. _The +Messiah_ was first given for that. Yes. Handel. What about going out +there: Ballsbridge. Drop in on Keyes. No use sticking to him like a +leech. Wear out my welcome. Sure to know someone on the gate. + +Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. First I must. Library. + +Straw hat in sunlight. Tan shoes. Turnedup trousers. It is. It is. + +His heart quopped softly. To the right. Museum. Goddesses. He swerved +to the right. + +Is it? Almost certain. Won’t look. Wine in my face. Why did I? Too +heady. Yes, it is. The walk. Not see. Get on. + +Making for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. +Handsome building. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Not following me? + +Didn’t see me perhaps. Light in his eyes. + +The flutter of his breath came forth in short sighs. Quick. Cold +statues: quiet there. Safe in a minute. + +No. Didn’t see me. After two. Just at the gate. + +My heart! + +His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Sir +Thomas Deane was the Greek architecture. + +Look for something I. + +His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out, read unfolded +Agendath Netaim. Where did I? + +Busy looking. + +He thrust back quick Agendath. + +Afternoon she said. + +I am looking for that. Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. _Freeman._ +Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where? + +Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart. + +His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap +lotion have to call tepid paper stuck. Ah soap there I yes. Gate. + +Safe! + + +[ 9 ] + +Urbane, to comfort them, the quaker librarian purred: + +—And we have, have we not, those priceless pages of _Wilhelm Meister_. +A great poet on a great brother poet. A hesitating soul taking arms +against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as one sees in +real life. + +He came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a step +backward a sinkapace on the solemn floor. + +A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him a +noiseless beck. + +—Directly, said he, creaking to go, albeit lingering. The beautiful +ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. One always +feels that Goethe’s judgments are so true. True in the larger analysis. + +Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. Bald, most zealous by the door +he gave his large ear all to the attendant’s words: heard them: and was +gone. + +Two left. + +—Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen sneered, was alive fifteen minutes +before his death. + +—Have you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton asked with +elder’s gall, to write _Paradise Lost_ at your dictation? _The Sorrows +of Satan_ he calls it. + +Smile. Smile Cranly’s smile. + + First he tickled her + Then he patted her + Then he passed the female catheter + For he was a medical + Jolly old medi... + +—I feel you would need one more for _Hamlet._ Seven is dear to the +mystic mind. The shining seven W.B. calls them. + +Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his greencapped desklamp sought +the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, an ollav, holyeyed. He +laughed low: a sizar’s laugh of Trinity: unanswered. + + Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood + Tears such as angels weep. + Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta. + +He holds my follies hostage. + +Cranly’s eleven true Wicklowmen to free their sireland. Gaptoothed +Kathleen, her four beautiful green fields, the stranger in her house. +And one more to hail him: _ave, rabbi_: the Tinahely twelve. In the +shadow of the glen he cooees for them. My soul’s youth I gave him, +night by night. God speed. Good hunting. + +Mulligan has my telegram. + +Folly. Persist. + +—Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton censured, have yet to create a +figure which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare’s Hamlet +though I admire him, as old Ben did, on this side idolatry. + +—All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of his +shadow. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex. +Clergymen’s discussions of the historicity of Jesus. Art has to reveal +to us ideas, formless spiritual essences. The supreme question about a +work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. The painting of +Gustave Moreau is the painting of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelley, +the words of Hamlet bring our minds into contact with the eternal +wisdom, Plato’s world of ideas. All the rest is the speculation of +schoolboys for schoolboys. + +A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer. Wall, tarnation strike +me! + +—The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said superpolitely. +Aristotle was once Plato’s schoolboy. + +—And has remained so, one should hope, John Eglinton sedately said. One +can see him, a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm. + +He laughed again at the now smiling bearded face. + +Formless spiritual. Father, Word and Holy Breath. Allfather, the +heavenly man. Hiesos Kristos, magician of the beautiful, the Logos who +suffers in us at every moment. This verily is that. I am the fire upon +the altar. I am the sacrificial butter. + +Dunlop, Judge, the noblest Roman of them all, A.E., Arval, the Name +Ineffable, in heaven hight: K.H., their master, whose identity is no +secret to adepts. Brothers of the great white lodge always watching to +see if they can help. The Christ with the bridesister, moisture of +light, born of an ensouled virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the +plane of buddhi. The life esoteric is not for ordinary person. O.P. +must work off bad karma first. Mrs Cooper Oakley once glimpsed our very +illustrious sister H.P.B.’s elemental. + +O, fie! Out on’t! _Pfuiteufel!_ You naughtn’t to look, missus, so you +naughtn’t when a lady’s ashowing of her elemental. + +Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light. He bore in his hand with +grace a notebook, new, large, clean, bright. + +—That model schoolboy, Stephen said, would find Hamlet’s musings about +the afterlife of his princely soul, the improbable, insignificant and +undramatic monologue, as shallow as Plato’s. + +John Eglinton, frowning, said, waxing wroth: + +—Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle +with Plato. + +—Which of the two, Stephen asked, would have banished me from his +commonwealth? + +Unsheathe your dagger definitions. Horseness is the whatness of +allhorse. Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the +street: very peripatetic. Space: what you damn well have to see. +Through spaces smaller than red globules of man’s blood they +creepycrawl after Blake’s buttocks into eternity of which this +vegetable world is but a shadow. Hold to the now, the here, through +which all future plunges to the past. + +Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards his colleague. + +—Haines is gone, he said. + +—Is he? + +—I was showing him Jubainville’s book. He’s quite enthusiastic, don’t +you know, about Hyde’s _Lovesongs of Connacht._ I couldn’t bring him in +to hear the discussion. He’s gone to Gill’s to buy it. + + Bound thee forth, my booklet, quick + To greet the callous public. + Writ, I ween, ’twas not my wish + In lean unlovely English. + +—The peatsmoke is going to his head, John Eglinton opined. + +We feel in England. Penitent thief. Gone. I smoked his baccy. Green +twinkling stone. An emerald set in the ring of the sea. + +—People do not know how dangerous lovesongs can be, the auric egg of +Russell warned occultly. The movements which work revolutions in the +world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant’s heart on +the hillside. For them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the +living mother. The rarefied air of the academy and the arena produce +the sixshilling novel, the musichall song. France produces the finest +flower of corruption in Mallarmé but the desirable life is revealed +only to the poor of heart, the life of Homer’s Phæacians. + +From these words Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen. + +—Mallarmé, don’t you know, he said, has written those wonderful prose +poems Stephen MacKenna used to read to me in Paris. The one about +_Hamlet._ He says: _il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même_, don’t +you know, _reading the book of himself_. He describes _Hamlet_ given in +a French town, don’t you know, a provincial town. They advertised it. + +His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. + +_Hamlet +ou +Le Distrait +Pièce de Shakespeare_ + + +He repeated to John Eglinton’s newgathered frown: + +—_Pièce de Shakespeare_, don’t you know. It’s so French. The French +point of view. _Hamlet ou_... + +—The absentminded beggar, Stephen ended. + +John Eglinton laughed. + +—Yes, I suppose it would be, he said. Excellent people, no doubt, but +distressingly shortsighted in some matters. + +Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder. + +—A deathsman of the soul Robert Greene called him, Stephen said. Not +for nothing was he a butcher’s son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and +spitting in his palms. Nine lives are taken off for his father’s one. +Our Father who art in purgatory. Khaki Hamlets don’t hesitate to shoot. +The bloodboltered shambles in act five is a forecast of the +concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. + +Cranly, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar. + + Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none + But we had spared... + +Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. The devil and the deep sea. + +—He will have it that _Hamlet_ is a ghoststory, John Eglinton said for +Mr Best’s behoof. Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to make our +flesh creep. + + List! List! O List! + + +My flesh hears him: creeping, hears. + + If thou didst ever... + + +—What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded +into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of +manners. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris +lies from virgin Dublin. Who is the ghost from _limbo patrum_, +returning to the world that has forgotten him? Who is King Hamlet? + +John Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to judge. + +Lifted. + +—It is this hour of a day in mid June, Stephen said, begging with a +swift glance their hearing. The flag is up on the playhouse by the +bankside. The bear Sackerson growls in the pit near it, Paris garden. +Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the +groundlings. + +Local colour. Work in all you know. Make them accomplices. + +—Shakespeare has left the huguenot’s house in Silver street and walks +by the swanmews along the riverbank. But he does not stay to feed the +pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. The swan of Avon +has other thoughts. + +Composition of place. Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me! + +—The play begins. A player comes on under the shadow, made up in the +castoff mail of a court buck, a wellset man with a bass voice. It is +the ghost, the king, a king and no king, and the player is Shakespeare +who has studied _Hamlet_ all the years of his life which were not +vanity in order to play the part of the spectre. He speaks the words to +Burbage, the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of +cerecloth, calling him by a name: + + Hamlet, I am thy father’s spirit, + +bidding him list. To a son he speaks, the son of his soul, the prince, +young Hamlet and to the son of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, who has +died in Stratford that his namesake may live for ever. + +Is it possible that that player Shakespeare, a ghost by absence, and in +the vesture of buried Denmark, a ghost by death, speaking his own words +to his own son’s name (had Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have been +prince Hamlet’s twin), is it possible, I want to know, or probable that +he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: +you are the dispossessed son: I am the murdered father: your mother is +the guilty queen, Ann Shakespeare, born Hathaway? + +—But this prying into the family life of a great man, Russell began +impatiently. + +Art thou there, truepenny? + +—Interesting only to the parish clerk. I mean, we have the plays. I +mean when we read the poetry of _King Lear_ what is it to us how the +poet lived? As for living our servants can do that for us, Villiers de +l’Isle has said. Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the day, +the poet’s drinking, the poet’s debts. We have _King Lear_: and it is +immortal. + +Mr Best’s face, appealed to, agreed. + + Flow over them with your waves and with your waters, + Mananaan, Mananaan MacLir... + +How now, sirrah, that pound he lent you when you were hungry? + +Marry, I wanted it. + +Take thou this noble. + +Go to! You spent most of it in Georgina Johnson’s bed, clergyman’s +daughter. Agenbite of inwit. + +Do you intend to pay it back? + +O, yes. + +When? Now? + +Well... No. + +When, then? + +I paid my way. I paid my way. + +Steady on. He’s from beyant Boyne water. The northeast corner. You owe +it. + +Wait. Five months. Molecules all change. I am other I now. Other I got +pound. + +Buzz. Buzz. + +But I, entelechy, form of forms, am I by memory because under +everchanging forms. + +I that sinned and prayed and fasted. + +A child Conmee saved from pandies. + +I, I and I. I. + +A.E.I.O.U. + +—Do you mean to fly in the face of the tradition of three centuries? +John Eglinton’s carping voice asked. Her ghost at least has been laid +for ever. She died, for literature at least, before she was born. + +—She died, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born. She +saw him into and out of the world. She took his first embraces. She +bore his children and she laid pennies on his eyes to keep his eyelids +closed when he lay on his deathbed. + +Mother’s deathbed. Candle. The sheeted mirror. Who brought me into this +world lies there, bronzelidded, under few cheap flowers. _Liliata +rutilantium._ + +I wept alone. + +John Eglinton looked in the tangled glowworm of his lamp. + +—The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake, he said, and got +out of it as quickly and as best he could. + +—Bosh! Stephen said rudely. A man of genius makes no mistakes. His +errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery. + +Portals of discovery opened to let in the quaker librarian, +softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous. + +—A shrew, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is not a useful portal of +discovery, one should imagine. What useful discovery did Socrates learn +from Xanthippe? + +—Dialectic, Stephen answered: and from his mother how to bring thoughts +into the world. What he learnt from his other wife Myrto (_absit +nomen!_), Socratididion’s Epipsychidion, no man, not a woman, will ever +know. But neither the midwife’s lore nor the caudlelectures saved him +from the archons of Sinn Fein and their naggin of hemlock. + +—But Ann Hathaway? Mr Best’s quiet voice said forgetfully. Yes, we seem +to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her. + +His look went from brooder’s beard to carper’s skull, to remind, to +chide them not unkindly, then to the baldpink lollard costard, +guiltless though maligned. + +—He had a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, and no truant memory. +He carried a memory in his wallet as he trudged to Romeville whistling +_The girl I left behind me._ If the earthquake did not time it we +should know where to place poor Wat, sitting in his form, the cry of +hounds, the studded bridle and her blue windows. That memory, _Venus +and Adonis_, lay in the bedchamber of every light-of-love in London. Is +Katharine the shrew illfavoured? Hortensio calls her young and +beautiful. Do you think the writer of _Antony and Cleopatra_, a +passionate pilgrim, had his eyes in the back of his head that he chose +the ugliest doxy in all Warwickshire to lie withal? Good: he left her +and gained the world of men. But his boywomen are the women of a boy. +Their life, thought, speech are lent them by males. He chose badly? He +was chosen, it seems to me. If others have their will Ann hath a way. +By cock, she was to blame. She put the comether on him, sweet and +twentysix. The greyeyed goddess who bends over the boy Adonis, stooping +to conquer, as prologue to the swelling act, is a boldfaced Stratford +wench who tumbles in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. + +And my turn? When? + +Come! + +—Ryefield, Mr Best said brightly, gladly, raising his new book, gladly, +brightly. + +He murmured then with blond delight for all: + + Between the acres of the rye + These pretty countryfolk would lie. + +Paris: the wellpleased pleaser. + +A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its +cooperative watch. + +—I am afraid I am due at the _Homestead._ + +Whither away? Exploitable ground. + +—Are you going? John Eglinton’s active eyebrows asked. Shall we see you +at Moore’s tonight? Piper is coming. + +—Piper! Mr Best piped. Is Piper back? + +Peter Piper pecked a peck of pick of peck of pickled pepper. + +—I don’t know if I can. Thursday. We have our meeting. If I can get +away in time. + +Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. _Isis Unveiled._ Their Pali book we +tried to pawn. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an +Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their oversoul, mahamahatma. +The faithful hermetists await the light, ripe for chelaship, +ringroundabout him. Louis H. Victory. T. Caulfield Irwin. Lotus ladies +tend them i’the eyes, their pineal glands aglow. Filled with his god, +he thrones, Buddh under plantain. Gulfer of souls, engulfer. Hesouls, +shesouls, shoals of souls. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, +whirling, they bewail. + + In quintessential triviality + For years in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt. + +—They say we are to have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian +said, friendly and earnest. Mr Russell, rumour has it, is gathering +together a sheaf of our younger poets’ verses. We are all looking +forward anxiously. + +Anxiously he glanced in the cone of lamplight where three faces, +lighted, shone. + +See this. Remember. + +Stephen looked down on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his +ashplanthandle over his knee. My casque and sword. Touch lightly with +two index fingers. Aristotle’s experiment. One or two? Necessity is +that in virtue of which it is impossible that one can be otherwise. +Argal, one hat is one hat. + +Listen. + +Young Colum and Starkey. George Roberts is doing the commercial part. +Longworth will give it a good puff in the _Express._ O, will he? I +liked Colum’s _Drover._ Yes, I think he has that queer thing genius. Do +you think he has genius really? Yeats admired his line: _As in wild +earth a Grecian vase_. Did he? I hope you’ll be able to come tonight. +Malachi Mulligan is coming too. Moore asked him to bring Haines. Did +you hear Miss Mitchell’s joke about Moore and Martyn? That Moore is +Martyn’s wild oats? Awfully clever, isn’t it? They remind one of Don +Quixote and Sancho Panza. Our national epic has yet to be written, Dr +Sigerson says. Moore is the man for it. A knight of the rueful +countenance here in Dublin. With a saffron kilt? O’Neill Russell? O, +yes, he must speak the grand old tongue. And his Dulcinea? James +Stephens is doing some clever sketches. We are becoming important, it +seems. + +Cordelia. _Cordoglio._ Lir’s loneliest daughter. + +Nookshotten. Now your best French polish. + +—Thank you very much, Mr Russell, Stephen said, rising. If you will be +so kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman... + +—O, yes. If he considers it important it will go in. We have so much +correspondence. + +—I understand, Stephen said. Thanks. + +God ild you. The pigs’ paper. Bullockbefriending. + +Synge has promised me an article for _Dana_ too. Are we going to be +read? I feel we are. The Gaelic league wants something in Irish. I hope +you will come round tonight. Bring Starkey. + +Stephen sat down. + +The quaker librarian came from the leavetakers. Blushing, his mask +said: + +—Mr Dedalus, your views are most illuminating. + +He creaked to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the altitude of a +chopine, and, covered by the noise of outgoing, said low: + +—Is it your view, then, that she was not faithful to the poet? + +Alarmed face asks me. Why did he come? Courtesy or an inward light? + +—Where there is a reconciliation, Stephen said, there must have been +first a sundering. + +—Yes. + +Christfox in leather trews, hiding, a runaway in blighted treeforks, +from hue and cry. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the chase. Women +he won to him, tender people, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, +bully tapsters’ wives. Fox and geese. And in New Place a slack +dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet, as fresh as +cinnamon, now her leaves falling, all, bare, frighted of the narrow +grave and unforgiven. + +—Yes. So you think... + +The door closed behind the outgoer. + +Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of warm and +brooding air. + +A vestal’s lamp. + +Here he ponders things that were not: what Cæsar would have lived to do +had he believed the soothsayer: what might have been: possibilities of +the possible as possible: things not known: what name Achilles bore +when he lived among women. + +Coffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words. +Thoth, god of libraries, a birdgod, moonycrowned. And I heard the voice +of that Egyptian highpriest. _In painted chambers loaded with +tilebooks._ + +They are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch of +death is in them, to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to wreak +their will. + +—Certainly, John Eglinton mused, of all great men he is the most +enigmatic. We know nothing but that he lived and suffered. Not even so +much. Others abide our question. A shadow hangs over all the rest. + +—But _Hamlet_ is so personal, isn’t it? Mr Best pleaded. I mean, a kind +of private paper, don’t you know, of his private life. I mean, I don’t +care a button, don’t you know, who is killed or who is guilty... + +He rested an innocent book on the edge of the desk, smiling his +defiance. His private papers in the original. _Ta an bad ar an tir. +Taim in mo shagart_. Put beurla on it, littlejohn. + +Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: + +—I was prepared for paradoxes from what Malachi Mulligan told us but I +may as well warn you that if you want to shake my belief that +Shakespeare is Hamlet you have a stern task before you. + +Bear with me. + +Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes glinting stern under +wrinkled brows. A basilisk. _E quando vede l’uomo l’attosca_. Messer +Brunetto, I thank thee for the word. + +—As we, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, +from day to day, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the +artist weave and unweave his image. And as the mole on my right breast +is where it was when I was born, though all my body has been woven of +new stuff time after time, so through the ghost of the unquiet father +the image of the unliving son looks forth. In the intense instant of +imagination, when the mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal, that which +I was is that which I am and that which in possibility I may come to +be. So in the future, the sister of the past, I may see myself as I sit +here now but by reflection from that which then I shall be. + +Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at that stile. + +—Yes, Mr Best said youngly. I feel Hamlet quite young. The bitterness +might be from the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from +the son. + +Has the wrong sow by the lug. He is in my father. I am in his son. + +—That mole is the last to go, Stephen said, laughing. + +John Eglinton made a nothing pleasing mow. + +—If that were the birthmark of genius, he said, genius would be a drug +in the market. The plays of Shakespeare’s later years which Renan +admired so much breathe another spirit. + +—The spirit of reconciliation, the quaker librarian breathed. + +—There can be no reconciliation, Stephen said, if there has not been a +sundering. + +Said that. + +—If you want to know what are the events which cast their shadow over +the hell of time of _King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida,_ +look to see when and how the shadow lifts. What softens the heart of a +man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like another Ulysses, Pericles, +prince of Tyre? + +Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded. + +—A child, a girl, placed in his arms, Marina. + +—The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant +quantity, John Eglinton detected. The highroads are dreary but they +lead to the town. + +Good Bacon: gone musty. Shakespeare Bacon’s wild oats. Cypherjugglers +going the highroads. Seekers on the great quest. What town, good +masters? Mummed in names: A. E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton. East of the +sun, west of the moon: _Tir na n-og_. Booted the twain and staved. + + How many miles to Dublin? + Three score and ten, sir. + Will we be there by candlelight? + +—Mr Brandes accepts it, Stephen said, as the first play of the closing +period. + +—Does he? What does Mr Sidney Lee, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his +name is, say of it? + +—Marina, Stephen said, a child of storm, Miranda, a wonder, Perdita, +that which was lost. What was lost is given back to him: his daughter’s +child. _My dearest wife_, Pericles says, _was like this maid._ Will any +man love the daughter if he has not loved the mother? + +—The art of being a grandfather, Mr Best gan murmur. _L’art d’être +grand_... + +—Will he not see reborn in her, with the memory of his own youth added, +another image? + +Do you know what you are talking about? Love, yes. Word known to all +men. _Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus +..._ + +—His own image to a man with that queer thing genius is the standard of +all experience, material and moral. Such an appeal will touch him. The +images of other males of his blood will repel him. He will see in them +grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself. + +The benign forehead of the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope. + +—I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the enlightenment of +the public. And we ought to mention another Irish commentator, Mr +George Bernard Shaw. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris. His articles +on Shakespeare in the _Saturday Review_ were surely brilliant. Oddly +enough he too draws for us an unhappy relation with the dark lady of +the sonnets. The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. I +own that if the poet must be rejected such a rejection would seem more +in harmony with—what shall I say?—our notions of what ought not to have +been. + +Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, auk’s egg, +prize of their fray. + +He thous and thees her with grave husbandwords. Dost love, Miriam? Dost +love thy man? + +—That may be too, Stephen said. There’s a saying of Goethe’s which Mr +Magee likes to quote. Beware of what you wish for in youth because you +will get it in middle life. Why does he send to one who is a +_buonaroba,_ a bay where all men ride, a maid of honour with a +scandalous girlhood, a lordling to woo for him? He was himself a lord +of language and had made himself a coistrel gentleman and he had +written _Romeo and Juliet_. Why? Belief in himself has been untimely +killed. He was overborne in a cornfield first (ryefield, I should say) +and he will never be a victor in his own eyes after nor play +victoriously the game of laugh and lie down. Assumed dongiovannism will +not save him. No later undoing will undo the first undoing. The tusk of +the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. If the shrew +is worsted yet there remains to her woman’s invisible weapon. There is, +I feel in the words, some goad of the flesh driving him into a new +passion, a darker shadow of the first, darkening even his own +understanding of himself. A like fate awaits him and the two rages +commingle in a whirlpool. + +They list. And in the porches of their ears I pour. + +—The soul has been before stricken mortally, a poison poured in the +porch of a sleeping ear. But those who are done to death in sleep +cannot know the manner of their quell unless their Creator endow their +souls with that knowledge in the life to come. The poisoning and the +beast with two backs that urged it King Hamlet’s ghost could not know +of were he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. That is why the +speech (his lean unlovely English) is always turned elsewhere, +backward. Ravisher and ravished, what he would but would not, go with +him from Lucrece’s bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen’s breast, bare, +with its mole cinquespotted. He goes back, weary of the creation he has +piled up to hide him from himself, an old dog licking an old sore. But, +because loss is his gain, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished +personality, untaught by the wisdom he has written or by the laws he +has revealed. His beaver is up. He is a ghost, a shadow now, the wind +by Elsinore’s rocks or what you will, the sea’s voice, a voice heard +only in the heart of him who is the substance of his shadow, the son +consubstantial with the father. + +—Amen! was responded from the doorway. + +Hast thou found me, O mine enemy? + +_Entr’acte_. + +A ribald face, sullen as a dean’s, Buck Mulligan came forward, then +blithe in motley, towards the greeting of their smiles. My telegram. + +—You were speaking of the gaseous vertebrate, if I mistake not? he +asked of Stephen. + +Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a +bauble. + +They make him welcome. _Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen._ + +Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most. + +He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, +Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who, put upon by His fiends, +stripped and whipped, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on +crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven +and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the right hand of His +Own Self but yet shall come in the latter day to doom the quick and +dead when all the quick shall be dead already. + +gloriainexelcisdeo + + + +He lifts his hands. Veils fall. O, flowers! Bells with bells with bells +aquiring. + +—Yes, indeed, the quaker librarian said. A most instructive discussion. +Mr Mulligan, I’ll be bound, has his theory too of the play and of +Shakespeare. All sides of life should be represented. + +He smiled on all sides equally. + +Buck Mulligan thought, puzzled: + +—Shakespeare? he said. I seem to know the name. + +A flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features. + +—To be sure, he said, remembering brightly. The chap that writes like +Synge. + +Mr Best turned to him. + +—Haines missed you, he said. Did you meet him? He’ll see you after at +the D. B. C. He’s gone to Gill’s to buy Hyde’s _Lovesongs of Connacht_. + +—I came through the museum, Buck Mulligan said. Was he here? + +—The bard’s fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton answered, are rather tired +perhaps of our brilliancies of theorising. I hear that an actress +played Hamlet for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. +Vining held that the prince was a woman. Has no-one made him out to be +an Irishman? Judge Barton, I believe, is searching for some clues. He +swears (His Highness not His Lordship) by saint Patrick. + +—The most brilliant of all is that story of Wilde’s, Mr Best said, +lifting his brilliant notebook. That _Portrait of Mr W. H._ where he +proves that the sonnets were written by a Willie Hughes, a man all +hues. + +—For Willie Hughes, is it not? the quaker librarian asked. + +Or Hughie Wills? Mr William Himself. W. H.: who am I? + +—I mean, for Willie Hughes, Mr Best said, amending his gloss easily. Of +course it’s all paradox, don’t you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the +colour, but it’s so typical the way he works it out. It’s the very +essence of Wilde, don’t you know. The light touch. + +His glance touched their faces lightly as he smiled, a blond ephebe. +Tame essence of Wilde. + +You’re darned witty. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan +Deasy’s ducats. + +How much did I spend? O, a few shillings. + +For a plump of pressmen. Humour wet and dry. + +Wit. You would give your five wits for youth’s proud livery he pranks +in. Lineaments of gratified desire. + +There be many mo. Take her for me. In pairing time. Jove, a cool +ruttime send them. Yea, turtledove her. + +Eve. Naked wheatbellied sin. A snake coils her, fang in’s kiss. + +—Do you think it is only a paradox? the quaker librarian was asking. +The mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious. + +They talked seriously of mocker’s seriousness. + +Buck Mulligan’s again heavy face eyed Stephen awhile. Then, his head +wagging, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his pocket. His +mobile lips read, smiling with new delight. + +—Telegram! he said. Wonderful inspiration! Telegram! A papal bull! + +He sat on a corner of the unlit desk, reading aloud joyfully: + +—_The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the +immense debtorship for a thing done._ Signed: Dedalus. Where did you +launch it from? The kips? No. College Green. Have you drunk the four +quid? The aunt is going to call on your unsubstantial father. Telegram! +Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street. O, you peerless mummer! +O, you priestified Kinchite! + +Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a pocket but keened in a +querulous brogue: + +—It’s what I’m telling you, mister honey, it’s queer and sick we were, +Haines and myself, the time himself brought it in. ’Twas murmur we did +for a gallus potion would rouse a friar, I’m thinking, and he limp with +leching. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery’s +sitting civil waiting for pints apiece. + +He wailed: + +—And we to be there, mavrone, and you to be unbeknownst sending us your +conglomerations the way we to have our tongues out a yard long like the +drouthy clerics do be fainting for a pussful. + +Stephen laughed. + +Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan bent down. + +—The tramper Synge is looking for you, he said, to murder you. He heard +you pissed on his halldoor in Glasthule. He’s out in pampooties to +murder you. + +—Me! Stephen exclaimed. That was your contribution to literature. + +Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the dark eavesdropping +ceiling. + +—Murder you! he laughed. + +Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of +lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts. In words of words for words, +palabras. Oisin with Patrick. Faunman he met in Clamart woods, +brandishing a winebottle. _C’est vendredi saint!_ Murthering Irish. His +image, wandering, he met. I mine. I met a fool i’the forest. + +—Mr Lyster, an attendant said from the door ajar. + +—... in which everyone can find his own. So Mr Justice Madden in his +_Diary of Master William Silence_ has found the hunting terms... Yes? +What is it? + +—There’s a gentleman here, sir, the attendant said, coming forward and +offering a card. From the _Freeman._ He wants to see the files of the +_Kilkenny People_ for last year. + +—Certainly, certainly, certainly. Is the gentleman?... + +He took the eager card, glanced, not saw, laid down unglanced, looked, +asked, creaked, asked: + +—Is he?... O, there! + +Brisk in a galliard he was off, out. In the daylit corridor he talked +with voluble pains of zeal, in duty bound, most fair, most kind, most +honest broadbrim. + +—This gentleman? _Freeman’s Journal? Kilkenny People?_ To be sure. Good +day, sir. _Kilkenny_... We have certainly... + +A patient silhouette waited, listening. + +—All the leading provincial... _Northern Whig, Cork Examiner, +Enniscorthy Guardian,_ 1903... Will you please?... Evans, conduct this +gentleman... If you just follow the atten... Or, please allow me... +This way... Please, sir... + +Voluble, dutiful, he led the way to all the provincial papers, a bowing +dark figure following his hasty heels. + +The door closed. + +—The sheeny! Buck Mulligan cried. + +He jumped up and snatched the card. + +—What’s his name? Ikey Moses? Bloom. + +He rattled on: + +—Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is no more. I found him over in the +museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. The Greek mouth +that has never been twisted in prayer. Every day we must do homage to +her. _Life of life, thy lips enkindle._ + +Suddenly he turned to Stephen: + +—He knows you. He knows your old fellow. O, I fear me, he is Greeker +than the Greeks. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove. +Venus Kallipyge. O, the thunder of those loins! _The god pursuing the +maiden hid_. + +—We want to hear more, John Eglinton decided with Mr Best’s approval. +We begin to be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of her, if +at all, as a patient Griselda, a Penelope stayathome. + +—Antisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said, took the palm of beauty +from Kyrios Menelaus’ brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy +in whom a score of heroes slept, and handed it to poor Penelope. Twenty +years he lived in London and, during part of that time, he drew a +salary equal to that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. His life was +rich. His art, more than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called +it, is the art of surfeit. Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack, +honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, +ringocandies. Sir Walter Raleigh, when they arrested him, had half a +million francs on his back including a pair of fancy stays. The +gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to vie with her of +Sheba. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its +chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures. You know +Manningham’s story of the burgher’s wife who bade Dick Burbage to her +bed after she had seen him in _Richard III_ and how Shakespeare, +overhearing, without more ado about nothing, took the cow by the horns +and, when Burbage came knocking at the gate, answered from the capon’s +blankets: _William the conqueror came before Richard III_. And the gay +lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O, and his dainty birdsnies, lady +Penelope Rich, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and the +punks of the bankside, a penny a time. + +Cours la Reine. _Encore vingt sous. Nous ferons de petites +cochonneries. Minette? Tu veux?_ + +—The height of fine society. And sir William Davenant of Oxford’s +mother with her cup of canary for any cockcanary. + +Buck Mulligan, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: + +—Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock! + +—And Harry of six wives’ daughter. And other lady friends from +neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings. But all those +twenty years what do you suppose poor Penelope in Stratford was doing +behind the diamond panes? + +Do and do. Thing done. In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist, +he walks, greyedauburn. An azured harebell like her veins. Lids of +Juno’s eyes, violets. He walks. One life is all. One body. Do. But do. +Afar, in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness. + +Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton’s desk sharply. + +—Whom do you suspect? he challenged. + +—Say that he is the spurned lover in the sonnets. Once spurned twice +spurned. But the court wanton spurned him for a lord, his dearmylove. + +Love that dare not speak its name. + +—As an Englishman, you mean, John sturdy Eglinton put in, he loved a +lord. + +Old wall where sudden lizards flash. At Charenton I watched them. + +—It seems so, Stephen said, when he wants to do for him, and for all +other and singular uneared wombs, the holy office an ostler does for +the stallion. Maybe, like Socrates, he had a midwife to mother as he +had a shrew to wife. But she, the giglot wanton, did not break a +bedvow. Two deeds are rank in that ghost’s mind: a broken vow and the +dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband’s +brother. Sweet Ann, I take it, was hot in the blood. Once a wooer, +twice a wooer. + +Stephen turned boldly in his chair. + +—The burden of proof is with you not with me, he said frowning. If you +deny that in the fifth scene of _Hamlet_ he has branded her with infamy +tell me why there is no mention of her during the thirtyfour years +between the day she married him and the day she buried him. All those +women saw their men down and under: Mary, her goodman John, Ann, her +poor dear Willun, when he went and died on her, raging that he was the +first to go, Joan, her four brothers, Judith, her husband and all her +sons, Susan, her husband too, while Susan’s daughter, Elizabeth, to use +granddaddy’s words, wed her second, having killed her first. + +O, yes, mention there is. In the years when he was living richly in +royal London to pay a debt she had to borrow forty shillings from her +father’s shepherd. Explain you then. Explain the swansong too wherein +he has commended her to posterity. + +He faced their silence. + +To whom thus Eglinton: You mean the will. +But that has been explained, I believe, by jurists. +She was entitled to her widow’s dower +At common law. His legal knowledge was great +Our judges tell us. + Him Satan fleers, +Mocker: + And therefore he left out her name +From the first draft but he did not leave out +The presents for his granddaughter, for his daughters, +For his sister, for his old cronies in Stratford +And in London. And therefore when he was urged, +As I believe, to name her +He left her his +Secondbest +Bed. + + _Punkt._ + +Leftherhis +Secondbest +Leftherhis +Bestabed +Secabest +Leftabed. + +Woa! + +—Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, John Eglinton observed, as +they have still if our peasant plays are true to type. + +—He was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, with a coat of arms and +landed estate at Stratford and a house in Ireland yard, a capitalist +shareholder, a bill promoter, a tithefarmer. Why did he not leave her +his best bed if he wished her to snore away the rest of her nights in +peace? + +—It is clear that there were two beds, a best and a secondbest, Mr +Secondbest Best said finely. + +—_Separatio a mensa et a thalamo_, bettered Buck Mulligan and was +smiled on. + +—Antiquity mentions famous beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling. +Let me think. + +—Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, +Stephen said, who when dying in exile frees and endows his slaves, pays +tribute to his elders, wills to be laid in earth near the bones of his +dead wife and bids his friends be kind to an old mistress (don’t forget +Nell Gwynn Herpyllis) and let her live in his villa. + +—Do you mean he died so? Mr Best asked with slight concern. I mean... + +—He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan capped. A quart of ale is a dish for +a king. O, I must tell you what Dowden said! + +—What? asked Besteglinton. + +William Shakespeare and company, limited. The people’s William. For +terms apply: E. Dowden, Highfield house... + +—Lovely! Buck Mulligan suspired amorously. I asked him what he thought +of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard. He lifted his +hands and said: _All we can say is that life ran very high in those +days._ Lovely! + +Catamite. + +—The sense of beauty leads us astray, said beautifulinsadness Best to +ugling Eglinton. + +Steadfast John replied severe: + +—The doctor can tell us what those words mean. You cannot eat your cake +and have it. + +Sayest thou so? Will they wrest from us, from me, the palm of beauty? + +—And the sense of property, Stephen said. He drew Shylock out of his +own long pocket. The son of a maltjobber and moneylender he was himself +a cornjobber and moneylender, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the +famine riots. His borrowers are no doubt those divers of worship +mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. +He sued a fellowplayer for the price of a few bags of malt and exacted +his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent. How else could +Aubrey’s ostler and callboy get rich quick? All events brought grist to +his mill. Shylock chimes with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging +and quartering of the queen’s leech Lopez, his jew’s heart being +plucked forth while the sheeny was yet alive: _Hamlet_ and _Macbeth_ +with the coming to the throne of a Scotch philosophaster with a turn +for witchroasting. The lost armada is his jeer in _Love’s Labour Lost_. +His pageants, the histories, sail fullbellied on a tide of Mafeking +enthusiasm. Warwickshire jesuits are tried and we have a porter’s +theory of equivocation. The _Sea Venture_ comes home from Bermudas and +the play Renan admired is written with Patsy Caliban, our American +cousin. The sugared sonnets follow Sidney’s. As for fay Elizabeth, +otherwise carrotty Bess, the gross virgin who inspired _The Merry Wives +of Windsor_, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life long for +deephid meanings in the depths of the buckbasket. + +I think you’re getting on very nicely. Just mix up a mixture of +theolologicophilolological. _Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere._ + +—Prove that he was a jew, John Eglinton dared, expectantly. Your dean +of studies holds he was a holy Roman. + +_Sufflaminandus sum._ + +—He was made in Germany, Stephen replied, as the champion French +polisher of Italian scandals. + +—A myriadminded man, Mr Best reminded. Coleridge called him +myriadminded. + +_Amplius. In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit +amicitia inter multos._ + +—Saint Thomas, Stephen began... + +—_Ora pro nobis_, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a chair. + +There he keened a wailing rune. + +—_Pogue mahone! Acushla machree!_ It’s destroyed we are from this day! +It’s destroyed we are surely! + +All smiled their smiles. + +—Saint Thomas, Stephen smiling said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy +reading in the original, writing of incest from a standpoint different +from that of the new Viennese school Mr Magee spoke of, likens it in +his wise and curious way to an avarice of the emotions. He means that +the love so given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some +stranger who, it may be, hungers for it. Jews, whom christians tax with +avarice, are of all races the most given to intermarriage. Accusations +are made in anger. The christian laws which built up the hoards of the +jews (for whom, as for the lollards, storm was shelter) bound their +affections too with hoops of steel. Whether these be sins or virtues +old Nobodaddy will tell us at doomsday leet. But a man who holds so +tightly to what he calls his rights over what he calls his debts will +hold tightly also to what he calls his rights over her whom he calls +his wife. No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his wife or his +manservant or his maidservant or his jackass. + +—Or his jennyass, Buck Mulligan antiphoned. + +—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said gently. + +—Which will? gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan. We are getting mixed. + +—The will to live, John Eglinton philosophised, for poor Ann, Will’s +widow, is the will to die. + +_—Requiescat!_ Stephen prayed. + + What of all the will to do? + It has vanished long ago... + +—She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the +mobled queen, even though you prove that a bed in those days was as +rare as a motorcar is now and that its carvings were the wonder of +seven parishes. In old age she takes up with gospellers (one stayed +with her at New Place and drank a quart of sack the town council paid +for but in which bed he slept it skills not to ask) and heard she had a +soul. She read or had read to her his chapbooks preferring them to the +_Merry Wives_ and, loosing her nightly waters on the jordan, she +thought over _Hooks and Eyes for Believers’ Breeches_ and _The most +Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze_. Venus has +twisted her lips in prayer. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience. +It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god. + +—History shows that to be true, _inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos_. The +ages succeed one another. But we have it on high authority that a man’s +worst enemies shall be those of his own house and family. I feel that +Russell is right. What do we care for his wife or father? I should say +that only family poets have family lives. Falstaff was not a family +man. I feel that the fat knight is his supreme creation. + +Lean, he lay back. Shy, deny thy kindred, the unco guid. Shy, supping +with the godless, he sneaks the cup. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it +him. Visits him here on quarter days. Mr Magee, sir, there’s a +gentleman to see you. Me? Says he’s your father, sir. Give me my +Wordsworth. Enter Magee Mor Matthew, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in +strossers with a buttoned codpiece, his nether stocks bemired with +clauber of ten forests, a wand of wilding in his hand. + +Your own? He knows your old fellow. The widower. + +Hurrying to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the quayside I +touched his hand. The voice, new warmth, speaking. Dr Bob Kenny is +attending her. The eyes that wish me well. But do not know me. + +—A father, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is a necessary +evil. He wrote the play in the months that followed his father’s death. +If you hold that he, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, +with thirtyfive years of life, _nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita_, +with fifty of experience, is the beardless undergraduate from +Wittenberg then you must hold that his seventyyear old mother is the +lustful queen. No. The corpse of John Shakespeare does not walk the +night. From hour to hour it rots and rots. He rests, disarmed of +fatherhood, having devised that mystical estate upon his son. +Boccaccio’s Calandrino was the first and last man who felt himself with +child. Fatherhood, in the sense of conscious begetting, is unknown to +man. It is a mystical estate, an apostolic succession, from only +begetter to only begotten. On that mystery and not on the madonna which +the cunning Italian intellect flung to the mob of Europe the church is +founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the world, macro +and microcosm, upon the void. Upon incertitude, upon unlikelihood. +_Amor matris_, subjective and objective genitive, may be the only true +thing in life. Paternity may be a legal fiction. Who is the father of +any son that any son should love him or he any son? + +What the hell are you driving at? + +I know. Shut up. Blast you. I have reasons. + +_Amplius. Adhuc. Iterum. Postea._ + +Are you condemned to do this? + +—They are sundered by a bodily shame so steadfast that the criminal +annals of the world, stained with all other incests and bestialities, +hardly record its breach. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, +lesbic sisters, loves that dare not speak their name, nephews with +grandmothers, jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls. The son +unborn mars beauty: born, he brings pain, divides affection, increases +care. He is a new male: his growth is his father’s decline, his youth +his father’s envy, his friend his father’s enemy. + +In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought it. + +—What links them in nature? An instant of blind rut. + +Am I a father? If I were? + +Shrunken uncertain hand. + +—Sabellius, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all the beasts of the +field, held that the Father was Himself His Own Son. The bulldog of +Aquin, with whom no word shall be impossible, refutes him. Well: if the +father who has not a son be not a father can the son who has not a +father be a son? When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another +poet of the same name in the comedy of errors wrote _Hamlet_ he was not +the father of his own son merely but, being no more a son, he was and +felt himself the father of all his race, the father of his own +grandfather, the father of his unborn grandson who, by the same token, +never was born, for nature, as Mr Magee understands her, abhors +perfection. + +Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. Gladly +glancing, a merry puritan, through the twisted eglantine. + +Flatter. Rarely. But flatter. + +—Himself his own father, Sonmulligan told himself. Wait. I am big with +child. I have an unborn child in my brain. Pallas Athena! A play! The +play’s the thing! Let me parturiate! + +He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. + +—As for his family, Stephen said, his mother’s name lives in the forest +of Arden. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in +_Coriolanus._ His boyson’s death is the deathscene of young Arthur in +_King John._ Hamlet, the black prince, is Hamnet Shakespeare. Who the +girls in _The Tempest_, in _Pericles,_ in _Winter’s Tale_ are we know. +Who Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and Cressid and Venus are we may +guess. But there is another member of his family who is recorded. + +—The plot thickens, John Eglinton said. + +The quaker librarian, quaking, tiptoed in, quake, his mask, quake, with +haste, quake, quack. + +Door closed. Cell. Day. + +They list. Three. They. + +I you he they. + +Come, mess. + +STEPHEN: He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard. Gilbert in +his old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister +Gatherer one time mass he did and he seen his brud Maister Wull the +playwriter up in Lunnon in a wrastling play wud a man on’s back. The +playhouse sausage filled Gilbert’s soul. He is nowhere: but an Edmund +and a Richard are recorded in the works of sweet William. + +MAGEEGLINJOHN: Names! What’s in a name? + +BEST: That is my name, Richard, don’t you know. I hope you are going to +say a good word for Richard, don’t you know, for my sake. _(Laughter)_ + +BUCKMULLIGAN: (_Piano, diminuendo_) + + Then outspoke medical Dick + To his comrade medical Davy... + +STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the villain shakebags, Iago, +Richard Crookback, Edmund in _King Lear_, two bear the wicked uncles’ +names. Nay, that last play was written or being written while his +brother Edmund lay dying in Southwark. + +BEST: I hope Edmund is going to catch it. I don’t want Richard, my name +... + +_(Laughter)_ + +QUAKERLYSTER: (_A tempo_) But he that filches from me my good name... + +STEPHEN: _(Stringendo)_ He has hidden his own name, a fair name, +William, in the plays, a super here, a clown there, as a painter of old +Italy set his face in a dark corner of his canvas. He has revealed it +in the sonnets where there is Will in overplus. Like John o’Gaunt his +name is dear to him, as dear as the coat and crest he toadied for, on a +bend sable a spear or steeled argent, honorificabilitudinitatibus, +dearer than his glory of greatest shakescene in the country. What’s in +a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the +name that we are told is ours. A star, a daystar, a firedrake, rose at +his birth. It shone by day in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in +the night, and by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the +recumbent constellation which is the signature of his initial among the +stars. His eyes watched it, lowlying on the horizon, eastward of the +bear, as he walked by the slumberous summer fields at midnight +returning from Shottery and from her arms. + +Both satisfied. I too. + +Don’t tell them he was nine years old when it was quenched. + +And from her arms. + +Wait to be wooed and won. Ay, meacock. Who will woo you? + +Read the skies. _Autontimorumenos. Bous Stephanoumenos._ Where’s your +configuration? Stephen, Stephen, cut the bread even. S. D: _sua donna. +Già: di lui. Gelindo risolve di non amare S. D._ + +—What is that, Mr Dedalus? the quaker librarian asked. Was it a +celestial phenomenon? + +—A star by night, Stephen said. A pillar of the cloud by day. + +What more’s to speak? + +Stephen looked on his hat, his stick, his boots. + +_Stephanos,_ my crown. My sword. His boots are spoiling the shape of my +feet. Buy a pair. Holes in my socks. Handkerchief too. + +—You make good use of the name, John Eglinton allowed. Your own name is +strange enough. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. + +Me, Magee and Mulligan. + +Fabulous artificer. The hawklike man. You flew. Whereto? +Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. Paris and back. Lapwing. Icarus. +_Pater, ait._ Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering. Lapwing you are. Lapwing +be. + +Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say: + +—That’s very interesting because that brother motive, don’t you know, +we find also in the old Irish myths. Just what you say. The three +brothers Shakespeare. In Grimm too, don’t you know, the fairytales. The +third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best +prize. + +Best of Best brothers. Good, better, best. + +The quaker librarian springhalted near. + +—I should like to know, he said, which brother you... I understand you +to suggest there was misconduct with one of the brothers... But perhaps +I am anticipating? + +He caught himself in the act: looked at all: refrained. + +An attendant from the doorway called: + +—Mr Lyster! Father Dineen wants... + +—O, Father Dineen! Directly. + +Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was rectly gone. + +John Eglinton touched the foil. + +—Come, he said. Let us hear what you have to say of Richard and Edmund. +You kept them for the last, didn’t you? + +—In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and +nuncle Edmund, Stephen answered, I feel I am asking too much perhaps. A +brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella. + +Lapwing. + +Where is your brother? Apothecaries’ hall. My whetstone. Him, then +Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Speech, speech. But act. Act speech. They +mock to try you. Act. Be acted on. + +Lapwing. + +I am tired of my voice, the voice of Esau. My kingdom for a drink. + +On. + +—You will say those names were already in the chronicles from which he +took the stuff of his plays. Why did he take them rather than others? +Richard, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a widowed Ann +(what’s in a name?), woos and wins her, a whoreson merry widow. Richard +the conqueror, third brother, came after William the conquered. The +other four acts of that play hang limply from that first. Of all his +kings Richard is the only king unshielded by Shakespeare’s reverence, +the angel of the world. Why is the underplot of _King Lear_ in which +Edmund figures lifted out of Sidney’s _Arcadia_ and spatchcocked on to +a Celtic legend older than history? + +—That was Will’s way, John Eglinton defended. We should not now combine +a Norse saga with an excerpt from a novel by George Meredith. _Que +voulez-vous?_ Moore would say. He puts Bohemia on the seacoast and +makes Ulysses quote Aristotle. + +—Why? Stephen answered himself. Because the theme of the false or the +usurping or the adulterous brother or all three in one is to +Shakespeare, what the poor are not, always with him. The note of +banishment, banishment from the heart, banishment from home, sounds +uninterruptedly from _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_ onward till Prospero +breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the earth and drowns his +book. It doubles itself in the middle of his life, reflects itself in +another, repeats itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe. +It repeats itself again when he is near the grave, when his married +daughter Susan, chip of the old block, is accused of adultery. But it +was the original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will +and left in him a strong inclination to evil. The words are those of my +lords bishops of Maynooth. An original sin and, like original sin, +committed by another in whose sin he too has sinned. It is between the +lines of his last written words, it is petrified on his tombstone under +which her four bones are not to be laid. Age has not withered it. +Beauty and peace have not done it away. It is in infinite variety +everywhere in the world he has created, in _Much Ado about Nothing_, +twice in _As you like It_, in _The Tempest_, in _Hamlet,_ in _Measure +for Measure_—and in all the other plays which I have not read. + +He laughed to free his mind from his mind’s bondage. + +Judge Eglinton summed up. + +—The truth is midway, he affirmed. He is the ghost and the prince. He +is all in all. + +—He is, Stephen said. The boy of act one is the mature man of act five. +All in all. In _Cymbeline,_ in _Othello_ he is bawd and cuckold. He +acts and is acted on. Lover of an ideal or a perversion, like José he +kills the real Carmen. His unremitting intellect is the hornmad Iago +ceaselessly willing that the moor in him shall suffer. + +—Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. O word of fear! + +Dark dome received, reverbed. + +—And what a character is Iago! undaunted John Eglinton exclaimed. When +all is said Dumas _fils_ (or is it Dumas _père?)_ is right. After God +Shakespeare has created most. + +—Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said. He returns after +a life of absence to that spot of earth where he was born, where he has +always been, man and boy, a silent witness and there, his journey of +life ended, he plants his mulberrytree in the earth. Then dies. The +motion is ended. Gravediggers bury Hamlet _père_ and Hamlet _fils._ A +king and a prince at last in death, with incidental music. And, what +though murdered and betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for, +Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the dead is the only husband from whom +they refuse to be divorced. If you like the epilogue look long on it: +prosperous Prospero, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa’s lump of +love, and nuncle Richie, the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the +place where the bad niggers go. Strong curtain. He found in the world +without as actual what was in his world within as possible. Maeterlinck +says: _If Socrates leave his house today he will find the sage seated +on his doorstep. If Judas go forth tonight it is to Judas his steps +will tend._ Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through +ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, +widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves. The playwright +who wrote the folio of this world and wrote it badly (He gave us light +first and the sun two days later), the lord of things as they are whom +the most Roman of catholics call _dio boia_, hangman god, is doubtless +all in all in all of us, ostler and butcher, and would be bawd and +cuckold too but that in the economy of heaven, foretold by Hamlet, +there are no more marriages, glorified man, an androgynous angel, being +a wife unto himself. + +_—Eureka!_ Buck Mulligan cried. _Eureka!_ + +Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a stride John Eglinton’s +desk. + +—May I? he said. The Lord has spoken to Malachi. + +He began to scribble on a slip of paper. + +Take some slips from the counter going out. + +—Those who are married, Mr Best, douce herald, said, all save one, +shall live. The rest shall keep as they are. + +He laughed, unmarried, at Eglinton Johannes, of arts a bachelor. + +Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they fingerponder nightly each his +variorum edition of _The Taming of the Shrew._ + +—You are a delusion, said roundly John Eglinton to Stephen. You have +brought us all this way to show us a French triangle. Do you believe +your own theory? + +—No, Stephen said promptly. + +—Are you going to write it? Mr Best asked. You ought to make it a +dialogue, don’t you know, like the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote. + +John Eclecticon doubly smiled. + +—Well, in that case, he said, I don’t see why you should expect payment +for it since you don’t believe it yourself. Dowden believes there is +some mystery in _Hamlet_ but will say no more. Herr Bleibtreu, the man +Piper met in Berlin, who is working up that Rutland theory, believes +that the secret is hidden in the Stratford monument. He is going to +visit the present duke, Piper says, and prove to him that his ancestor +wrote the plays. It will come as a surprise to his grace. But he +believes his theory. + +I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. That is, help me to believe or +help me to unbelieve? Who helps to believe? _Egomen._ Who to unbelieve? +Other chap. + +—You are the only contributor to _Dana_ who asks for pieces of silver. +Then I don’t know about the next number. Fred Ryan wants space for an +article on economics. + +Fraidrine. Two pieces of silver he lent me. Tide you over. Economics. + +—For a guinea, Stephen said, you can publish this interview. + +Buck Mulligan stood up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and then +gravely said, honeying malice: + +—I called upon the bard Kinch at his summer residence in upper +Mecklenburgh street and found him deep in the study of the _Summa +contra Gentiles_ in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly +and Rosalie, the coalquay whore. + +He broke away. + +—Come, Kinch. Come, wandering Ængus of the birds. + +Come, Kinch. You have eaten all we left. Ay. I will serve you your orts +and offals. + +Stephen rose. + +Life is many days. This will end. + +—We shall see you tonight, John Eglinton said. _Notre ami_ Moore says +Malachi Mulligan must be there. + +Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama. + +—Monsieur Moore, he said, lecturer on French letters to the youth of +Ireland. I’ll be there. Come, Kinch, the bards must drink. Can you walk +straight? + +Laughing, he... + +Swill till eleven. Irish nights entertainment. + +Lubber... + +Stephen followed a lubber... + +One day in the national library we had a discussion. Shakes. After. His +lub back: I followed. I gall his kibe. + +Stephen, greeting, then all amort, followed a lubber jester, a +wellkempt head, newbarbered, out of the vaulted cell into a shattering +daylight of no thought. + +What have I learned? Of them? Of me? + +Walk like Haines now. + +The constant readers’ room. In the readers’ book Cashel Boyle O’Connor +Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Item: was Hamlet +mad? The quaker’s pate godlily with a priesteen in booktalk. + +—O please do, sir... I shall be most pleased... + +Amused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, +selfnodding: + +—A pleased bottom. + +The turnstile. + +Is that?... Blueribboned hat... Idly writing... What? Looked?... + +The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius. + +Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling: + + John Eglinton, my jo, John, + Why won’t you wed a wife? + +He spluttered to the air: + +—O, the chinless Chinaman! Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. We went over to their +playbox, Haines and I, the plumbers’ hall. Our players are creating a +new art for Europe like the Greeks or M. Maeterlinck. Abbey Theatre! I +smell the pubic sweat of monks. + +He spat blank. + +Forgot: any more than he forgot the whipping lousy Lucy gave him. And +left the _femme de trente ans._ And why no other children born? And his +first child a girl? + +Afterwit. Go back. + +The dour recluse still there (he has his cake) and the douce youngling, +minion of pleasure, Phedo’s toyable fair hair. + +Eh... I just eh... wanted... I forgot... he... + +—Longworth and M’Curdy Atkinson were there... + +Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: + + I hardly hear the purlieu cry + Or a Tommy talk as I pass one by + Before my thoughts begin to run + On F. M’Curdy Atkinson, + The same that had the wooden leg + And that filibustering filibeg + That never dared to slake his drouth, + Magee that had the chinless mouth. + Being afraid to marry on earth + They masturbated for all they were worth. + +Jest on. Know thyself. + +Halted, below me, a quizzer looks at me. I halt. + +—Mournful mummer, Buck Mulligan moaned. Synge has left off wearing +black to be like nature. Only crows, priests and English coal are +black. + +A laugh tripped over his lips. + +—Longworth is awfully sick, he said, after what you wrote about that +old hake Gregory. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! She gets you a +job on the paper and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. +Couldn’t you do the Yeats touch? + +He went on and down, mopping, chanting with waving graceful arms: + +—The most beautiful book that has come out of our country in my time. +One thinks of Homer. + +He stopped at the stairfoot. + +—I have conceived a play for the mummers, he said solemnly. + +The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined. Gone the nine men’s +morrice with caps of indices. + +In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan read his tablet: + +_Everyman His Own Wife +or +A Honeymoon in the Hand +(a national immorality in three orgasms) +by +Ballocky Mulligan._ + + +He turned a happy patch’s smirk to Stephen, saying: + +—The disguise, I fear, is thin. But listen. + +He read, _marcato:_ + +—Characters: + + TOBY TOSTOFF (a ruined Pole) + CRAB (a bushranger) + MEDICAL DICK ) + and ) (two birds with one stone) + MEDICAL DAVY ) + MOTHER GROGAN (a watercarrier) + FRESH NELLY + and + ROSALIE (the coalquay whore). + +He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking on, followed by Stephen: +and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men: + +—O, the night in the Camden hall when the daughters of Erin had to lift +their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured, +multicoloured, multitudinous vomit! + +—The most innocent son of Erin, Stephen said, for whom they ever lifted +them. + +About to pass through the doorway, feeling one behind, he stood aside. + +Part. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates leave his house today, +if Judas go forth tonight. Why? That lies in space which I in time must +come to, ineluctably. + +My will: his will that fronts me. Seas between. + +A man passed out between them, bowing, greeting. + +—Good day again, Buck Mulligan said. + +The portico. + +Here I watched the birds for augury. Ængus of the birds. They go, they +come. Last night I flew. Easily flew. Men wondered. Street of harlots +after. A creamfruit melon he held to me. In. You will see. + +—The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown’s awe. Did you +see his eye? He looked upon you to lust after you. I fear thee, ancient +mariner. O, Kinch, thou art in peril. Get thee a breechpad. + +Manner of Oxenford. + +Day. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge. + +A dark back went before them, step of a pard, down, out by the gateway, +under portcullis barbs. + +They followed. + +Offend me still. Speak on. + +Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street. No birds. +Frail from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and in +a flaw of softness softly were blown. + +Cease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: +from wide earth an altar. + + Laud we the gods + And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils + From our bless’d altars. + + + +[ 10 ] + +The superior, the very reverend John Conmee S. J. reset his smooth +watch in his interior pocket as he came down the presbytery steps. Five +to three. Just nice time to walk to Artane. What was that boy’s name +again? Dignam. Yes. _Vere dignum et iustum est._ Brother Swan was the +person to see. Mr Cunningham’s letter. Yes. Oblige him, if possible. +Good practical catholic: useful at mission time. + +A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his +crutches, growled some notes. He jerked short before the convent of the +sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the very +reverend John Conmee S. J. Father Conmee blessed him in the sun for his +purse held, he knew, one silver crown. + +Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. He thought, but not for long, +of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs, +ending their days in some pauper ward, and of cardinal Wolsey’s words: +_If I had served my God as I have served my king He would not have +abandoned me in my old days._ He walked by the treeshade of +sunnywinking leaves: and towards him came the wife of Mr David Sheehy +M.P. + +—Very well, indeed, father. And you, father? + +Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. He would go to Buxton +probably for the waters. And her boys, were they getting on well at +Belvedere? Was that so? Father Conmee was very glad indeed to hear +that. And Mr Sheehy himself? Still in London. The house was still +sitting, to be sure it was. Beautiful weather it was, delightful +indeed. Yes, it was very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would +come again to preach. O, yes: a very great success. A wonderful man +really. + +Father Conmee was very glad to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P. +Iooking so well and he begged to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P. +Yes, he would certainly call. + +—Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy. + +Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiled, as he took leave, at the +jet beads of her mantilla inkshining in the sun. And smiled yet again, +in going. He had cleaned his teeth, he knew, with arecanut paste. + +Father Conmee walked and, walking, smiled for he thought on Father +Bernard Vaughan’s droll eyes and cockney voice. + +—Pilate! Wy don’t you old back that owlin mob? + +A zealous man, however. Really he was. And really did great good in his +way. Beyond a doubt. He loved Ireland, he said, and he loved the Irish. +Of good family too would one think it? Welsh, were they not? + +O, lest he forget. That letter to father provincial. + +Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the corner of Mountjoy +square. Yes: they were from Belvedere. The little house. Aha. And were +they good boys at school? O. That was very good now. And what was his +name? Jack Sohan. And his name? Ger. Gallaher. And the other little +man? His name was Brunny Lynam. O, that was a very nice name to have. + +Father Conmee gave a letter from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam and +pointed to the red pillarbox at the corner of Fitzgibbon street. + +—But mind you don’t post yourself into the box, little man, he said. + +The boys sixeyed Father Conmee and laughed: + +—O, sir. + +—Well, let me see if you can post a letter, Father Conmee said. + +Master Brunny Lynam ran across the road and put Father Conmee’s letter +to father provincial into the mouth of the bright red letterbox. Father +Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and walked along Mountjoy square +east. + +Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c, in silk hat, slate +frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender +trousers, canary gloves and pointed patent boots, walking with grave +deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he passed lady +Maxwell at the corner of Dignam’s court. + +Was that not Mrs M’Guinness? + +Mrs M’Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee from the +farther footpath along which she sailed. And Father Conmee smiled and +saluted. How did she do? + +A fine carriage she had. Like Mary, queen of Scots, something. And to +think that she was a pawnbroker! Well, now! Such a... what should he +say?... such a queenly mien. + +Father Conmee walked down Great Charles street and glanced at the +shutup free church on his left. The reverend T. R. Greene B.A. will +(D.V.) speak. The incumbent they called him. He felt it incumbent on +him to say a few words. But one should be charitable. Invincible +ignorance. They acted according to their lights. + +Father Conmee turned the corner and walked along the North Circular +road. It was a wonder that there was not a tramline in such an +important thoroughfare. Surely, there ought to be. + +A band of satchelled schoolboys crossed from Richmond street. All +raised untidy caps. Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly. +Christian brother boys. + +Father Conmee smelt incense on his right hand as he walked. Saint +Joseph’s church, Portland row. For aged and virtuous females. Father +Conmee raised his hat to the Blessed Sacrament. Virtuous: but +occasionally they were also badtempered. + +Near Aldborough house Father Conmee thought of that spendthrift +nobleman. And now it was an office or something. + +Father Conmee began to walk along the North Strand road and was saluted +by Mr William Gallagher who stood in the doorway of his shop. Father +Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came +from baconflitches and ample cools of butter. He passed Grogan’s the +Tobacconist against which newsboards leaned and told of a dreadful +catastrophe in New York. In America those things were continually +happening. Unfortunate people to die like that, unprepared. Still, an +act of perfect contrition. + +Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin’s publichouse against the window of +which two unlabouring men lounged. They saluted him and were saluted. + +Father Conmee passed H. J. O’Neill’s funeral establishment where Corny +Kelleher totted figures in the daybook while he chewed a blade of hay. +A constable on his beat saluted Father Conmee and Father Conmee saluted +the constable. In Youkstetter’s, the porkbutcher’s, Father Conmee +observed pig’s puddings, white and black and red, lie neatly curled in +tubes. + +Moored under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee saw a +turfbarge, a towhorse with pendent head, a bargeman with a hat of dirty +straw seated amidships, smoking and staring at a branch of poplar above +him. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee reflected on the providence of +the Creator who had made turf to be in bogs whence men might dig it out +and bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the houses of poor +people. + +On Newcomen bridge the very reverend John Conmee S. J. of saint Francis +Xavier’s church, upper Gardiner street, stepped on to an outward bound +tram. + +Off an inward bound tram stepped the reverend Nicholas Dudley C. C. of +saint Agatha’s church, north William street, on to Newcomen bridge. + +At Newcomen bridge Father Conmee stepped into an outward bound tram for +he disliked to traverse on foot the dingy way past Mud Island. + +Father Conmee sat in a corner of the tramcar, a blue ticket tucked with +care in the eye of one plump kid glove, while four shillings, a +sixpence and five pennies chuted from his other plump glovepalm into +his purse. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket +inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away +the ticket. The solemnity of the occupants of the car seemed to Father +Conmee excessive for a journey so short and cheap. Father Conmee liked +cheerful decorum. + +It was a peaceful day. The gentleman with the glasses opposite Father +Conmee had finished explaining and looked down. His wife, Father Conmee +supposed. A tiny yawn opened the mouth of the wife of the gentleman +with the glasses. She raised her small gloved fist, yawned ever so +gently, tiptapping her small gloved fist on her opening mouth and +smiled tinily, sweetly. + +Father Conmee perceived her perfume in the car. He perceived also that +the awkward man at the other side of her was sitting on the edge of the +seat. + +Father Conmee at the altarrails placed the host with difficulty in the +mouth of the awkward old man who had the shaky head. + +At Annesley bridge the tram halted and, when it was about to go, an old +woman rose suddenly from her place to alight. The conductor pulled the +bellstrap to stay the car for her. She passed out with her basket and a +marketnet: and Father Conmee saw the conductor help her and net and +basket down: and Father Conmee thought that, as she had nearly passed +the end of the penny fare, she was one of those good souls who had +always to be told twice _bless you, my child,_ that they have been +absolved, _pray for me._ But they had so many worries in life, so many +cares, poor creatures. + +From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at +Father Conmee. + +Father Conmee thought of the souls of black and brown and yellow men +and of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S. J. and the African mission +and of the propagation of the faith and of the millions of black and +brown and yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when +their last hour came like a thief in the night. That book by the +Belgian jesuit, _Le Nombre des Élus,_ seemed to Father Conmee a +reasonable plea. Those were millions of human souls created by God in +His Own likeness to whom the faith had not (D.V.) been brought. But +they were God’s souls, created by God. It seemed to Father Conmee a +pity that they should all be lost, a waste, if one might say. + +At the Howth road stop Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the +conductor and saluted in his turn. + +The Malahide road was quiet. It pleased Father Conmee, road and name. +The joybells were ringing in gay Malahide. Lord Talbot de Malahide, +immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the seas adjoining. +Then came the call to arms and she was maid, wife and widow in one day. +Those were old worldish days, loyal times in joyous townlands, old +times in the barony. + +Father Conmee, walking, thought of his little book _Old Times in the +Barony_ and of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and +of Mary Rochfort, daughter of lord Molesworth, first countess of +Belvedere. + +A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel, +Mary, first countess of Belvedere, listlessly walking in the evening, +not startled when an otter plunged. Who could know the truth? Not the +jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not committed +adultery fully, _eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris,_ with +her husband’s brother? She would half confess if she had not all sinned +as women did. Only God knew and she and he, her husband’s brother. + +Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however +for man’s race on earth, and of the ways of God which were not our +ways. + +Don John Conmee walked and moved in times of yore. He was humane and +honoured there. He bore in mind secrets confessed and he smiled at +smiling noble faces in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit +clusters. And the hands of a bride and of a bridegroom, noble to noble, +were impalmed by Don John Conmee. + +It was a charming day. + +The lychgate of a field showed Father Conmee breadths of cabbages, +curtseying to him with ample underleaves. The sky showed him a flock of +small white clouds going slowly down the wind. _Moutonner,_ the French +said. A just and homely word. + +Father Conmee, reading his office, watched a flock of muttoning clouds +over Rathcoffey. His thinsocked ankles were tickled by the stubble of +Clongowes field. He walked there, reading in the evening, and heard the +cries of the boys’ lines at their play, young cries in the quiet +evening. He was their rector: his reign was mild. + +Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his rededged breviary out. +An ivory bookmark told him the page. + +Nones. He should have read that before lunch. But lady Maxwell had +come. + +Father Conmee read in secret _Pater_ and _Ave_ and crossed his breast. +_Deus in adiutorium._ + +He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking and reading till he +came to _Res_ in _Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas: +in eternum omnia iudicia iustitiæ tuæ._ + +A flushed young man came from a gap of a hedge and after him came a +young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand. The young man raised +his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care +detached from her light skirt a clinging twig. + +Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned a thin page of his +breviary. _Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis +formidavit cor meum._ + +* * * + + +Corny Kelleher closed his long daybook and glanced with his drooping +eye at a pine coffinlid sentried in a corner. He pulled himself erect, +went to it and, spinning it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass +furnishings. Chewing his blade of hay he laid the coffinlid by and came +to the doorway. There he tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his eyes +and leaned against the doorcase, looking idly out. + +Father John Conmee stepped into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge. + +Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his hat +downtilted, chewing his blade of hay. + +Constable 57C, on his beat, stood to pass the time of day. + +—That’s a fine day, Mr Kelleher. + +—Ay, Corny Kelleher said. + +—It’s very close, the constable said. + +Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his mouth +while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a +coin. + +—What’s the best news? he asked. + +—I seen that particular party last evening, the constable said with +bated breath. + +* * * + + +A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell’s corner, skirting +Rabaiotti’s icecream car, and jerked himself up Eccles street. Towards +Larry O’Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his doorway, he growled unamiably: + +—_For England_... + +He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted +and growled: + +—_home and beauty._ + +J. J. O’Molloy’s white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in +the warehouse with a visitor. + +A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it +into the cap held out to her. The sailor grumbled thanks, glanced +sourly at the unheeding windows, sank his head and swung himself +forward four strides. + +He halted and growled angrily: + +—_For England_... + +Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted near him, +gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths. + +He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted, lifted his head +towards a window and bayed deeply: + +—_home and beauty._ + +The gay sweet chirping whistling within went on a bar or two, ceased. +The blind of the window was drawn aside. A card _Unfurnished +Apartments_ slipped from the sash and fell. A plump bare generous arm +shone, was seen, held forth from a white petticoatbodice and taut +shiftstraps. A woman’s hand flung forth a coin over the area railings. +It fell on the path. + +One of the urchins ran to it, picked it up and dropped it into the +minstrel’s cap, saying: + +—There, sir. + +* * * + + +Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the door of the closesteaming +kitchen. + +—Did you put in the books? Boody asked. + +Maggy at the range rammed down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds +twice with her potstick and wiped her brow. + +—They wouldn’t give anything on them, she said. + +Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his thinsocked ankles +tickled by stubble. + +—Where did you try? Boody asked. + +—M’Guinness’s. + +Boody stamped her foot and threw her satchel on the table. + +—Bad cess to her big face! she cried. + +Katey went to the range and peered with squinting eyes. + +—What’s in the pot? she asked. + +—Shirts, Maggy said. + +Boody cried angrily: + +—Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat? + +Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her stained skirt, asked: + +—And what’s in this? + +A heavy fume gushed in answer. + +—Peasoup, Maggy said. + +—Where did you get it? Katey asked. + +—Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy said. + +The lacquey rang his bell. + +—Barang! + +Boody sat down at the table and said hungrily: + +—Give us it here. + +Maggy poured yellow thick soup from the kettle into a bowl. Katey, +sitting opposite Boody, said quietly, as her fingertip lifted to her +mouth random crumbs: + +—A good job we have that much. Where’s Dilly? + +—Gone to meet father, Maggy said. + +Boody, breaking big chunks of bread into the yellow soup, added: + +—Our father who art not in heaven. + +Maggy, pouring yellow soup in Katey’s bowl, exclaimed: + +—Boody! For shame! + +A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the +Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed +around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains, +between the Customhouse old dock and George’s quay. + +* * * + + +The blond girl in Thornton’s bedded the wicker basket with rustling +fibre. Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper +and a small jar. + +—Put these in first, will you? he said. + +—Yes, sir, the blond girl said. And the fruit on top. + +—That’ll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan said. + +She bestowed fat pears neatly, head by tail, and among them ripe +shamefaced peaches. + +Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the +fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red +tomatoes, sniffing smells. + +H. E. L. Y.’S filed before him, tallwhitehatted, past Tangier lane, +plodding towards their goal. + +He turned suddenly from a chip of strawberries, drew a gold watch from +his fob and held it at its chain’s length. + +—Can you send them by tram? Now? + +A darkbacked figure under Merchants’ arch scanned books on the hawker’s +cart. + +—Certainly, sir. Is it in the city? + +—O, yes, Blazes Boylan said. Ten minutes. + +The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil. + +—Will you write the address, sir? + +Blazes Boylan at the counter wrote and pushed the docket to her. + +—Send it at once, will you? he said. It’s for an invalid. + +—Yes, sir. I will, sir. + +Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers’ pocket. + +—What’s the damage? he asked. + +The blond girl’s slim fingers reckoned the fruits. + +Blazes Boylan looked into the cut of her blouse. A young pullet. He +took a red carnation from the tall stemglass. + +—This for me? he asked gallantly. + +The blond girl glanced sideways at him, got up regardless, with his tie +a bit crooked, blushing. + +—Yes, sir, she said. + +Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches. + +Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse with more favour, the stalk of the +red flower between his smiling teeth. + +—May I say a word to your telephone, missy? he asked roguishly. + +* * * + + +_—Ma!_ Almidano Artifoni said. + +He gazed over Stephen’s shoulder at Goldsmith’s knobby poll. + +Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore, +gripping the handrests. Palefaces. Men’s arms frankly round their +stunted forms. They looked from Trinity to the blind columned porch of +the bank of Ireland where pigeons roocoocooed. + +—_Anch’io ho avuto di queste idee_, Almidano Artifoni said, _quand’ ero +giovine come Lei. Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia. È +peccato. Perchè la sua voce... sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. +Invece, Lei si sacrifica._ + +—_Sacrifizio incruento,_ Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in +slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly. + +_—Speriamo,_ the round mustachioed face said pleasantly. _Ma, dia retta +a me. Ci rifletta_. + +By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram +unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band. + +—_Ci rifletterò,_ Stephen said, glancing down the solid trouserleg. + +—_Ma, sul serio, eh?_ Almidano Artifoni said. + +His heavy hand took Stephen’s firmly. Human eyes. They gazed curiously +an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram. + +_—Eccolo,_ Almidano Artifoni said in friendly haste. _Venga a trovarmi +e ci pensi. Addio, caro._ + +—_Arrivederla, maestro,_ Stephen said, raising his hat when his hand +was freed. _E grazie._ + +—_Di che?_ Almidano Artifoni said. _Scusi, eh? Tante belle cose!_ + +Almidano Artifoni, holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal, +trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram. In vain he trotted, +signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling +implements of music through Trinity gates. + +* * * + + +Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of _The Woman in White_ +far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her +typewriter. + +Too much mystery business in it. Is he in love with that one, Marion? +Change it and get another by Mary Cecil Haye. + +The disk shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased and ogled them: +six. + +Miss Dunne clicked on the keyboard: + +—16 June 1904. + +Five tallwhitehatted sandwichmen between Monypeny’s corner and the slab +where Wolfe Tone’s statue was not, eeled themselves turning H. E. L. +Y.’S and plodded back as they had come. + +Then she stared at the large poster of Marie Kendall, charming +soubrette, and, listlessly lolling, scribbled on the jotter sixteens +and capital esses. Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. She’s not +nicelooking, is she? The way she’s holding up her bit of a skirt. +Wonder will that fellow be at the band tonight. If I could get that +dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle’s. They kick out +grand. Shannon and all the boatclub swells never took his eyes off her. +Hope to goodness he won’t keep me here till seven. + +The telephone rang rudely by her ear. + +—Hello. Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll ring them up after five. Only +those two, sir, for Belfast and Liverpool. All right, sir. Then I can +go after six if you’re not back. A quarter after. Yes, sir. Twentyseven +and six. I’ll tell him. Yes: one, seven, six. + +She scribbled three figures on an envelope. + +—Mr Boylan! Hello! That gentleman from _Sport_ was in looking for you. +Mr Lenehan, yes. He said he’ll be in the Ormond at four. No, sir. Yes, +sir. I’ll ring them up after five. + +* * * + + +Two pink faces turned in the flare of the tiny torch. + +—Who’s that? Ned Lambert asked. Is that Crotty? + +—Ringabella and Crosshaven, a voice replied groping for foothold. + +—Hello, Jack, is that yourself? Ned Lambert said, raising in salute his +pliant lath among the flickering arches. Come on. Mind your steps +there. + +The vesta in the clergyman’s uplifted hand consumed itself in a long +soft flame and was let fall. At their feet its red speck died: and +mouldy air closed round them. + +—How interesting! a refined accent said in the gloom. + +—Yes, sir, Ned Lambert said heartily. We are standing in the historic +council chamber of saint Mary’s abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed +himself a rebel in 1534. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin. +O’Madden Burke is going to write something about it one of these days. +The old bank of Ireland was over the way till the time of the union and +the original jews’ temple was here too before they built their +synagogue over in Adelaide road. You were never here before, Jack, were +you? + +—No, Ned. + +—He rode down through Dame walk, the refined accent said, if my memory +serves me. The mansion of the Kildares was in Thomas court. + +—That’s right, Ned Lambert said. That’s quite right, sir. + +—If you will be so kind then, the clergyman said, the next time to +allow me perhaps... + +—Certainly, Ned Lambert said. Bring the camera whenever you like. I’ll +get those bags cleared away from the windows. You can take it from here +or from here. + +In the still faint light he moved about, tapping with his lath the +piled seedbags and points of vantage on the floor. + +From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard. + +—I’m deeply obliged, Mr Lambert, the clergyman said. I won’t trespass +on your valuable time... + +—You’re welcome, sir, Ned Lambert said. Drop in whenever you like. Next +week, say. Can you see? + +—Yes, yes. Good afternoon, Mr Lambert. Very pleased to have met you. + +—Pleasure is mine, sir, Ned Lambert answered. + +He followed his guest to the outlet and then whirled his lath away +among the pillars. With J. J. O’Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary’s +abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut +meal, O’Connor, Wexford. + +He stood to read the card in his hand. + +—The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. Present address: Saint +Michael’s, Sallins. Nice young chap he is. He’s writing a book about +the Fitzgeralds he told me. He’s well up in history, faith. + +The young woman with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging +twig. + +—I thought you were at a new gunpowder plot, J. J. O’Molloy said. + +Ned Lambert cracked his fingers in the air. + +—God! he cried. I forgot to tell him that one about the earl of Kildare +after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. You know that one? _I’m bloody +sorry I did it,_ says he, _but I declare to God I thought the +archbishop was inside._ He mightn’t like it, though. What? God, I’ll +tell him anyhow. That was the great earl, the Fitzgerald Mor. Hot +members they were all of them, the Geraldines. + +The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. He +slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: + +—Woa, sonny! + +He turned to J. J. O’Molloy and asked: + +—Well, Jack. What is it? What’s the trouble? Wait awhile. Hold hard. + +With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still and, after an +instant, sneezed loudly. + +—Chow! he said. Blast you! + +—The dust from those sacks, J. J. O’Molloy said politely. + +—No, Ned Lambert gasped, I caught a... cold night before... blast your +soul... night before last... and there was a hell of a lot of +draught... + +He held his handkerchief ready for the coming... + +—I was... Glasnevin this morning... poor little... what do you call +him... Chow!... Mother of Moses! + +* * * + + +Tom Rochford took the top disk from the pile he clasped against his +claret waistcoat. + +—See? he said. Say it’s turn six. In here, see. Turn Now On. + +He slid it into the left slot for them. It shot down the groove, +wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six. + +Lawyers of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the +consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying +the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the +admiralty division of king’s bench to the court of appeal an elderly +female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of +great amplitude. + +—See? he said. See now the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over. +The impact. Leverage, see? + +He showed them the rising column of disks on the right. + +—Smart idea, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. So a fellow coming in late +can see what turn is on and what turns are over. + +—See? Tom Rochford said. + +He slid in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, +stop: four. Turn Now On. + +—I’ll see him now in the Ormond, Lenehan said, and sound him. One good +turn deserves another. + +—Do, Tom Rochford said. Tell him I’m Boylan with impatience. + +—Goodnight, M’Coy said abruptly. When you two begin... + +Nosey Flynn stooped towards the lever, snuffling at it. + +—But how does it work here, Tommy? he asked. + +—Tooraloo, Lenehan said. See you later. + +He followed M’Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court. + +—He’s a hero, he said simply. + +—I know, M’Coy said. The drain, you mean. + +—Drain? Lenehan said. It was down a manhole. + +They passed Dan Lowry’s musichall where Marie Kendall, charming +soubrette, smiled on them from a poster a dauby smile. + +Going down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall +Lenehan showed M’Coy how the whole thing was. One of those manholes +like a bloody gaspipe and there was the poor devil stuck down in it, +half choked with sewer gas. Down went Tom Rochford anyhow, booky’s vest +and all, with the rope round him. And be damned but he got the rope +round the poor devil and the two were hauled up. + +—The act of a hero, he said. + +At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop past +them for Jervis street. + +—This way, he said, walking to the right. I want to pop into Lynam’s to +see Sceptre’s starting price. What’s the time by your gold watch and +chain? + +M’Coy peered into Marcus Tertius Moses’ sombre office, then at +O’Neill’s clock. + +—After three, he said. Who’s riding her? + +—O. Madden, Lenehan said. And a game filly she is. + +While he waited in Temple bar M’Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle +pushes of his toe from the path to the gutter. Fellow might damn easy +get a nasty fall there coming along tight in the dark. + +The gates of the drive opened wide to give egress to the viceregal +cavalcade. + +—Even money, Lenehan said returning. I knocked against Bantam Lyons in +there going to back a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn’t an +earthly. Through here. + +They went up the steps and under Merchants’ arch. A darkbacked figure +scanned books on the hawker’s cart. + +—There he is, Lenehan said. + +—Wonder what he’s buying, M’Coy said, glancing behind. + +—_Leopoldo or the Bloom is on the Rye,_ Lenehan said. + +—He’s dead nuts on sales, M’Coy said. I was with him one day and he +bought a book from an old one in Liffey street for two bob. There were +fine plates in it worth double the money, the stars and the moon and +comets with long tails. Astronomy it was about. + +Lenehan laughed. + +—I’ll tell you a damn good one about comets’ tails, he said. Come over +in the sun. + +They crossed to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by the +riverwall. + +Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of Mangan’s, late Fehrenbach’s, +carrying a pound and a half of porksteaks. + +—There was a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said +eagerly. The annual dinner, you know. Boiled shirt affair. The lord +mayor was there, Val Dillon it was, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan +Dawson spoke and there was music. Bartell d’Arcy sang and Benjamin +Dollard... + +—I know, M’Coy broke in. My missus sang there once. + +—Did she? Lenehan said. + +A card _Unfurnished Apartments_ reappeared on the windowsash of number +7 Eccles street. + +He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh. + +—But wait till I tell you, he said. Delahunt of Camden street had the +catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher. Bloom and the wife +were there. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and +curacoa to which we did ample justice. Fast and furious it was. After +liquids came solids. Cold joints galore and mince pies... + +—I know, M’Coy said. The year the missus was there... + +Lenehan linked his arm warmly. + +—But wait till I tell you, he said. We had a midnight lunch too after +all the jollification and when we sallied forth it was blue o’clock the +morning after the night before. Coming home it was a gorgeous winter’s +night on the Featherbed Mountain. Bloom and Chris Callinan were on one +side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. We started +singing glees and duets: _Lo, the early beam of morning_. She was well +primed with a good load of Delahunt’s port under her bellyband. Every +jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. Hell’s +delights! She has a fine pair, God bless her. Like that. + +He held his caved hands a cubit from him, frowning: + +—I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the time. +Know what I mean? + +His hands moulded ample curves of air. He shut his eyes tight in +delight, his body shrinking, and blew a sweet chirp from his lips. + +—The lad stood to attention anyhow, he said with a sigh. She’s a gamey +mare and no mistake. Bloom was pointing out all the stars and the +comets in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the jarvey: the great bear +and Hercules and the dragon, and the whole jingbang lot. But, by God, I +was lost, so to speak, in the milky way. He knows them all, faith. At +last she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away. _And what star is that, +Poldy?_ says she. By God, she had Bloom cornered. _That one, is it?_ +says Chris Callinan, _sure that’s only what you might call a pinprick._ +By God, he wasn’t far wide of the mark. + +Lenehan stopped and leaned on the riverwall, panting with soft +laughter. + +—I’m weak, he gasped. + +M’Coy’s white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. Lenehan +walked on again. He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his hindhead +rapidly. He glanced sideways in the sunlight at M’Coy. + +—He’s a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said seriously. He’s not one +of your common or garden... you know... There’s a touch of the artist +about old Bloom. + +* * * + + +Mr Bloom turned over idly pages of _The Awful Disclosures of Maria +Monk_, then of Aristotle’s _Masterpiece._ Crooked botched print. +Plates: infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of +slaughtered cows. Lots of them like that at this moment all over the +world. All butting with their skulls to get out of it. Child born every +minute somewhere. Mrs Purefoy. + +He laid both books aside and glanced at the third: _Tales of the +Ghetto_ by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. + +—That I had, he said, pushing it by. + +The shopman let two volumes fall on the counter. + +—Them are two good ones, he said. + +Onions of his breath came across the counter out of his ruined mouth. +He bent to make a bundle of the other books, hugged them against his +unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtain. + +On O’Connell bridge many persons observed the grave deportment and gay +apparel of Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c. + +Mr Bloom, alone, looked at the titles. _Fair Tyrants_ by James +Lovebirch. Know the kind that is. Had it? Yes. + +He opened it. Thought so. + +A woman’s voice behind the dingy curtain. Listen: the man. + +No: she wouldn’t like that much. Got her it once. + +He read the other title: _Sweets of Sin_. More in her line. Let us see. + +He read where his finger opened. + +_—All the dollarbills her husband gave her were spent in the stores on +wondrous gowns and costliest frillies. For him! For Raoul!_ + +Yes. This. Here. Try. + +—_Her mouth glued on his in a luscious voluptuous kiss while his hands +felt for the opulent curves inside her déshabillé._ + +Yes. Take this. The end. + +—You are late, he spoke hoarsely, eying her with a suspicious glare. + +The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her +queenly shoulders and heaving embonpoint. An imperceptible smile played +round her perfect lips as she turned to him calmly. + +Mr Bloom read again: _The beautiful woman._ + +Warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh. Flesh yielded amply +amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. His nostrils arched +themselves for prey. Melting breast ointments (_for him! For Raoul!_). +Armpits’ oniony sweat. Fishgluey slime (_her heaving embonpoint!_). +Feel! Press! Crished! Sulphur dung of lions! + +Young! Young! + +An elderly female, no more young, left the building of the courts of +chancery, king’s bench, exchequer and common pleas, having heard in the +lord chancellor’s court the case in lunacy of Potterton, in the +admiralty division the summons, exparte motion, of the owners of the +Lady Cairns versus the owners of the barque Mona, in the court of +appeal reservation of judgment in the case of Harvey versus the Ocean +Accident and Guarantee Corporation. + +Phlegmy coughs shook the air of the bookshop, bulging out the dingy +curtains. The shopman’s uncombed grey head came out and his unshaven +reddened face, coughing. He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on +the floor. He put his boot on what he had spat, wiping his sole along +it, and bent, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired. + +Mr Bloom beheld it. + +Mastering his troubled breath, he said: + +—I’ll take this one. + +The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum. + +—_Sweets of Sin,_ he said, tapping on it. That’s a good one. + +* * * + + +The lacquey by the door of Dillon’s auctionrooms shook his handbell +twice again and viewed himself in the chalked mirror of the cabinet. + +Dilly Dedalus, loitering by the curbstone, heard the beats of the bell, +the cries of the auctioneer within. Four and nine. Those lovely +curtains. Five shillings. Cosy curtains. Selling new at two guineas. +Any advance on five shillings? Going for five shillings. + +The lacquey lifted his handbell and shook it: + +—Barang! + +Bang of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint. +J. A. Jackson, W. E. Wylie, A. Munro and H. T. Gahan, their stretched +necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the College library. + +Mr Dedalus, tugging a long moustache, came round from Williams’s row. +He halted near his daughter. + +—It’s time for you, she said. + +—Stand up straight for the love of the lord Jesus, Mr Dedalus said. Are +you trying to imitate your uncle John, the cornetplayer, head upon +shoulder? Melancholy God! + +Dilly shrugged her shoulders. Mr Dedalus placed his hands on them and +held them back. + +—Stand up straight, girl, he said. You’ll get curvature of the spine. +Do you know what you look like? + +He let his head sink suddenly down and forward, hunching his shoulders +and dropping his underjaw. + +—Give it up, father, Dilly said. All the people are looking at you. + +Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache. + +—Did you get any money? Dilly asked. + +—Where would I get money? Mr Dedalus said. There is no-one in Dublin +would lend me fourpence. + +—You got some, Dilly said, looking in his eyes. + +—How do you know that? Mr Dedalus asked, his tongue in his cheek. + +Mr Kernan, pleased with the order he had booked, walked boldly along +James’s street. + +—I know you did, Dilly answered. Were you in the Scotch house now? + +—I was not, then, Mr Dedalus said, smiling. Was it the little nuns +taught you to be so saucy? Here. + +He handed her a shilling. + +—See if you can do anything with that, he said. + +—I suppose you got five, Dilly said. Give me more than that. + +—Wait awhile, Mr Dedalus said threateningly. You’re like the rest of +them, are you? An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor +mother died. But wait awhile. You’ll all get a short shrift and a long +day from me. Low blackguardism! I’m going to get rid of you. Wouldn’t +care if I was stretched out stiff. He’s dead. The man upstairs is dead. + +He left her and walked on. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat. + +—Well, what is it? he said, stopping. + +The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs. + +—Barang! + +—Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus cried, turning on him. + +The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the lolling clapper of his bell +but feebly: + +—Bang! + +Mr Dedalus stared at him. + +—Watch him, he said. It’s instructive. I wonder will he allow us to +talk. + +—You got more than that, father, Dilly said. + +—I’m going to show you a little trick, Mr Dedalus said. I’ll leave you +all where Jesus left the jews. Look, there’s all I have. I got two +shillings from Jack Power and I spent twopence for a shave for the +funeral. + +He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously. + +—Can’t you look for some money somewhere? Dilly said. + +Mr Dedalus thought and nodded. + +—I will, he said gravely. I looked all along the gutter in O’Connell +street. I’ll try this one now. + +—You’re very funny, Dilly said, grinning. + +—Here, Mr Dedalus said, handing her two pennies. Get a glass of milk +for yourself and a bun or a something. I’ll be home shortly. + +He put the other coins in his pocket and started to walk on. + +The viceregal cavalcade passed, greeted by obsequious policemen, out of +Parkgate. + +—I’m sure you have another shilling, Dilly said. + +The lacquey banged loudly. + +Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a pursing +mincing mouth gently: + +—The little nuns! Nice little things! O, sure they wouldn’t do +anything! O, sure they wouldn’t really! Is it little sister Monica! + +* * * + + +From the sundial towards James’s gate walked Mr Kernan, pleased with +the order he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James’s +street, past Shackleton’s offices. Got round him all right. How do you +do, Mr Crimmins? First rate, sir. I was afraid you might be up in your +other establishment in Pimlico. How are things going? Just keeping +alive. Lovely weather we’re having. Yes, indeed. Good for the country. +Those farmers are always grumbling. I’ll just take a thimbleful of your +best gin, Mr Crimmins. A small gin, sir. Yes, sir. Terrible affair that +_General Slocum_ explosion. Terrible, terrible! A thousand casualties. +And heartrending scenes. Men trampling down women and children. Most +brutal thing. What do they say was the cause? Spontaneous combustion. +Most scandalous revelation. Not a single lifeboat would float and the +firehose all burst. What I can’t understand is how the inspectors ever +allowed a boat like that... Now, you’re talking straight, Mr Crimmins. +You know why? Palm oil. Is that a fact? Without a doubt. Well now, look +at that. And America they say is the land of the free. I thought we +were bad here. + +I smiled at him. _America,_ I said quietly, just like that. _What is +it? The sweepings of every country including our own. Isn’t that true?_ +That’s a fact. + +Graft, my dear sir. Well, of course, where there’s money going there’s +always someone to pick it up. + +Saw him looking at my frockcoat. Dress does it. Nothing like a dressy +appearance. Bowls them over. + +—Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. How are things? + +—Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. + +Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of Peter +Kennedy, hairdresser. Stylish coat, beyond a doubt. Scott of Dawson +street. Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. Never built +under three guineas. Fits me down to the ground. Some Kildare street +club toff had it probably. John Mulligan, the manager of the Hibernian +bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he +remembered me. + +Aham! Must dress the character for those fellows. Knight of the road. +Gentleman. And now, Mr Crimmins, may we have the honour of your custom +again, sir. The cup that cheers but not inebriates, as the old saying +has it. + +North wall and sir John Rogerson’s quay, with hulls and anchorchains, +sailing westward, sailed by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on +the ferrywash, Elijah is coming. + +Mr Kernan glanced in farewell at his image. High colour, of course. +Grizzled moustache. Returned Indian officer. Bravely he bore his stumpy +body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders. Is that Ned +Lambert’s brother over the way, Sam? What? Yes. He’s as like it as damn +it. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. Just a flash +like that. Damn like him. + +Aham! Hot spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his breath. +Good drop of gin, that was. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to +his fat strut. + +Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered. Greasy black rope. +Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant’s wife +drove by in her noddy. + +Bad times those were. Well, well. Over and done with. Great topers too. +Fourbottle men. + +Let me see. Is he buried in saint Michan’s? Or no, there was a midnight +burial in Glasnevin. Corpse brought in through a secret door in the +wall. Dignam is there now. Went out in a puff. Well, well. Better turn +down here. Make a detour. + +Mr Kernan turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by the +corner of Guinness’s visitors’ waitingroom. Outside the Dublin +Distillers Company’s stores an outside car without fare or jarvey +stood, the reins knotted to the wheel. Damn dangerous thing. Some +Tipperary bosthoon endangering the lives of the citizens. Runaway +horse. + +Denis Breen with his tomes, weary of having waited an hour in John +Henry Menton’s office, led his wife over O’Connell bridge, bound for +the office of Messrs Collis and Ward. + +Mr Kernan approached Island street. + +Times of the troubles. Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those +reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. When you look back on it all now +in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Gaming at Daly’s. No +cardsharping then. One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the +table by a dagger. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from +major Sirr. Stables behind Moira house. + +Damn good gin that was. + +Fine dashing young nobleman. Good stock, of course. That ruffian, that +sham squire, with his violet gloves gave him away. Course they were on +the wrong side. They rose in dark and evil days. Fine poem that is: +Ingram. They were gentlemen. Ben Dollard does sing that ballad +touchingly. Masterly rendition. + +_At the siege of Ross did my father fall._ + +A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping, +leaping in their, in their saddles. Frockcoats. Cream sunshades. + +Mr Kernan hurried forward, blowing pursily. + +His Excellency! Too bad! Just missed that by a hair. Damn it! What a +pity! + +* * * + + +Stephen Dedalus watched through the webbed window the lapidary’s +fingers prove a timedulled chain. Dust webbed the window and the +showtrays. Dust darkened the toiling fingers with their vulture nails. +Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on +rubies, leprous and winedark stones. + +Born all in the dark wormy earth, cold specks of fire, evil, lights +shining in the darkness. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of +their brows. Muddy swinesnouts, hands, root and root, gripe and wrest +them. + +She dances in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. A sailorman, +rustbearded, sips from a beaker rum and eyes her. A long and seafed +silent rut. She dances, capers, wagging her sowish haunches and her +hips, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. + +Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned +it and held it at the point of his Moses’ beard. Grandfather ape +gloating on a stolen hoard. + +And you who wrest old images from the burial earth? The brainsick words +of sophists: Antisthenes. A lore of drugs. Orient and immortal wheat +standing from everlasting to everlasting. + +Two old women fresh from their whiff of the briny trudged through +Irishtown along London bridge road, one with a sanded tired umbrella, +one with a midwife’s bag in which eleven cockles rolled. + +The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the +powerhouse urged Stephen to be on. Beingless beings. Stop! Throb always +without you and the throb always within. Your heart you sing of. I +between them. Where? Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I. +Shatter them, one and both. But stun myself too in the blow. Shatter me +you who can. Bawd and butcher were the words. I say! Not yet awhile. A +look around. + +Yes, quite true. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. You +say right, sir. A Monday morning, ’twas so, indeed. + +Stephen went down Bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against +his shoulderblade. In Clohissey’s window a faded 1860 print of Heenan +boxing Sayers held his eye. Staring backers with square hats stood +round the roped prizering. The heavyweights in tight loincloths +proposed gently each to other his bulbous fists. And they are +throbbing: heroes’ hearts. + +He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart. + +—Twopence each, the huckster said. Four for sixpence. + +Tattered pages. _The Irish Beekeeper. Life and Miracles of the Curé of +Ars. Pocket Guide to Killarney._ + +I might find here one of my pawned schoolprizes. _Stephano Dedalo, +alumno optimo, palmam ferenti._ + +Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the hamlet +of Donnycarney, murmuring vespers. + +Binding too good probably. What is this? Eighth and ninth book of +Moses. Secret of all secrets. Seal of King David. Thumbed pages: read +and read. Who has passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands. +Recipe for white wine vinegar. How to win a woman’s love. For me this. +Say the following talisman three times with hands folded: + +—_Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! Amor me solo! Sanktus! Amen._ + +Who wrote this? Charms and invocations of the most blessed abbot Peter +Salanka to all true believers divulged. As good as any other abbot’s +charms, as mumbling Joachim’s. Down, baldynoddle, or we’ll wool your +wool. + +—What are you doing here, Stephen? + +Dilly’s high shoulders and shabby dress. + +Shut the book quick. Don’t let see. + +—What are you doing? Stephen said. + +A Stuart face of nonesuch Charles, lank locks falling at its sides. It +glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. I told her +of Paris. Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats, fingering a +pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly’s token. _Nebrakada femininum._ + +—What have you there? Stephen asked. + +—I bought it from the other cart for a penny, Dilly said, laughing +nervously. Is it any good? + +My eyes they say she has. Do others see me so? Quick, far and daring. +Shadow of my mind. + +He took the coverless book from her hand. Chardenal’s French primer. + +—What did you buy that for? he asked. To learn French? + +She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips. + +Show no surprise. Quite natural. + +—Here, Stephen said. It’s all right. Mind Maggy doesn’t pawn it on you. +I suppose all my books are gone. + +—Some, Dilly said. We had to. + +She is drowning. Agenbite. Save her. Agenbite. All against us. She will +drown me with her, eyes and hair. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, +my heart, my soul. Salt green death. + +We. + +Agenbite of inwit. Inwit’s agenbite. + +Misery! Misery! + +* * * + + +—Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. How are things? + +—Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. + +They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter’s. Father Cowley +brushed his moustache often downward with a scooping hand. + +—What’s the best news? Mr Dedalus said. + +—Why then not much, Father Cowley said. I’m barricaded up, Simon, with +two men prowling around the house trying to effect an entrance. + +—Jolly, Mr Dedalus said. Who is it? + +—O, Father Cowley said. A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance. + +—With a broken back, is it? Mr Dedalus asked. + +—The same, Simon, Father Cowley answered. Reuben of that ilk. I’m just +waiting for Ben Dollard. He’s going to say a word to long John to get +him to take those two men off. All I want is a little time. + +He looked with vague hope up and down the quay, a big apple bulging in +his neck. + +—I know, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Poor old bockedy Ben! He’s always +doing a good turn for someone. Hold hard! + +He put on his glasses and gazed towards the metal bridge an instant. + +—There he is, by God, he said, arse and pockets. + +Ben Dollard’s loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops +crossed the quay in full gait from the metal bridge. He came towards +them at an amble, scratching actively behind his coattails. + +As he came near Mr Dedalus greeted: + +—Hold that fellow with the bad trousers. + +—Hold him now, Ben Dollard said. + +Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben +Dollard’s figure. Then, turning to Father Cowley with a nod, he +muttered sneeringly: + +—That’s a pretty garment, isn’t it, for a summer’s day? + +—Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I +threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw. + +He stood beside them beaming, on them first and on his roomy clothes +from points of which Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: + +—They were made for a man in his health, Ben, anyhow. + +—Bad luck to the jewman that made them, Ben Dollard said. Thanks be to +God he’s not paid yet. + +—And how is that _basso profondo_, Benjamin? Father Cowley asked. + +Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring, +glassyeyed, strode past the Kildare street club. + +Ben Dollard frowned and, making suddenly a chanter’s mouth, gave forth +a deep note. + +—Aw! he said. + +—That’s the style, Mr Dedalus said, nodding to its drone. + +—What about that? Ben Dollard said. Not too dusty? What? + +He turned to both. + +—That’ll do, Father Cowley said, nodding also. + +The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the old chapterhouse of saint +Mary’s abbey past James and Charles Kennedy’s, rectifiers, attended by +Geraldines tall and personable, towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of +hurdles. + +Ben Dollard with a heavy list towards the shopfronts led them forward, +his joyful fingers in the air. + +—Come along with me to the subsheriff’s office, he said. I want to show +you the new beauty Rock has for a bailiff. He’s a cross between +Lobengula and Lynchehaun. He’s well worth seeing, mind you. Come along. +I saw John Henry Menton casually in the Bodega just now and it will +cost me a fall if I don’t... Wait awhile... We’re on the right lay, +Bob, believe you me. + +—For a few days tell him, Father Cowley said anxiously. + +Ben Dollard halted and stared, his loud orifice open, a dangling button +of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away the +heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright. + +—What few days? he boomed. Hasn’t your landlord distrained for rent? + +—He has, Father Cowley said. + +—Then our friend’s writ is not worth the paper it’s printed on, Ben +Dollard said. The landlord has the prior claim. I gave him all the +particulars. 29 Windsor avenue. Love is the name? + +—That’s right, Father Cowley said. The reverend Mr Love. He’s a +minister in the country somewhere. But are you sure of that? + +—You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said, that he can put that +writ where Jacko put the nuts. + +He led Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his bulk. + +—Filberts I believe they were, Mr Dedalus said, as he dropped his +glasses on his coatfront, following them. + +* * * + + +—The youngster will be all right, Martin Cunningham said, as they +passed out of the Castleyard gate. + +The policeman touched his forehead. + +—God bless you, Martin Cunningham said, cheerily. + +He signed to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the reins and set on +towards Lord Edward street. + +Bronze by gold, Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss Douce’s head, appeared +above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel. + +—Yes, Martin Cunningham said, fingering his beard. I wrote to Father +Conmee and laid the whole case before him. + +—You could try our friend, Mr Power suggested backward. + +—Boyd? Martin Cunningham said shortly. Touch me not. + +John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list, came after them +quickly down Cork hill. + +On the steps of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed +Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending. + +The castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street. + +—Look here, Martin, John Wyse Nolan said, overtaking them at the _Mail_ +office. I see Bloom put his name down for five shillings. + +—Quite right, Martin Cunningham said, taking the list. And put down the +five shillings too. + +—Without a second word either, Mr Power said. + +—Strange but true, Martin Cunningham added. + +John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes. + +—I’ll say there is much kindness in the jew, he quoted, elegantly. + +They went down Parliament street. + +—There’s Jimmy Henry, Mr Power said, just heading for Kavanagh’s. + +—Righto, Martin Cunningham said. Here goes. + +Outside _la Maison Claire_ Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney’s +brother-in-law, humpy, tight, making for the liberties. + +John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power, while Martin Cunningham took +the elbow of a dapper little man in a shower of hail suit, who walked +uncertainly, with hasty steps past Micky Anderson’s watches. + +—The assistant town clerk’s corns are giving him some trouble, John +Wyse Nolan told Mr Power. + +They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh’s winerooms. The +empty castle car fronted them at rest in Essex gate. Martin Cunningham, +speaking always, showed often the list at which Jimmy Henry did not +glance. + +—And long John Fanning is here too, John Wyse Nolan said, as large as +life. + +The tall form of long John Fanning filled the doorway where he stood. + +—Good day, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said, as all halted and +greeted. + +Long John Fanning made no way for them. He removed his large Henry Clay +decisively and his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all +their faces. + +—Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? he +said with rich acrid utterance to the assistant town clerk. + +Hell open to christians they were having, Jimmy Henry said pettishly, +about their damned Irish language. Where was the marshal, he wanted to +know, to keep order in the council chamber. And old Barlow the +macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the table, nothing in order, +no quorum even, and Hutchinson, the lord mayor, in Llandudno and little +Lorcan Sherlock doing _locum tenens_ for him. Damned Irish language, +language of our forefathers. + +Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips. + +Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his beard, to +the assistant town clerk and the subsheriff, while John Wyse Nolan held +his peace. + +—What Dignam was that? long John Fanning asked. + +Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot. + +—O, my corns! he said plaintively. Come upstairs for goodness’ sake +till I sit down somewhere. Uff! Ooo! Mind! + +Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning’s flank and +passed in and up the stairs. + +—Come on up, Martin Cunningham said to the subsheriff. I don’t think +you knew him or perhaps you did, though. + +With John Wyse Nolan Mr Power followed them in. + +—Decent little soul he was, Mr Power said to the stalwart back of long +John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning in the mirror. + +—Rather lowsized. Dignam of Menton’s office that was, Martin Cunningham +said. + +Long John Fanning could not remember him. + +Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air. + +—What’s that? Martin Cunningham said. + +All turned where they stood. John Wyse Nolan came down again. From the +cool shadow of the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament street, +harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering. Gaily they went +past before his cool unfriendly eyes, not quickly. In saddles of the +leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders. + +—What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the +staircase. + +—The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse +Nolan answered from the stairfoot. + +* * * + + +As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan whispered behind his +Panama to Haines: + +—Parnell’s brother. There in the corner. + +They chose a small table near the window, opposite a longfaced man +whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard. + +—Is that he? Haines asked, twisting round in his seat. + +—Yes, Mulligan said. That’s John Howard, his brother, our city marshal. + +John Howard Parnell translated a white bishop quietly and his grey claw +went up again to his forehead whereat it rested. An instant after, +under its screen, his eyes looked quickly, ghostbright, at his foe and +fell once more upon a working corner. + +—I’ll take a _mélange,_ Haines said to the waitress. + +—Two _mélanges,_ Buck Mulligan said. And bring us some scones and +butter and some cakes as well. + +When she had gone he said, laughing: + +—We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes. O, but you missed +Dedalus on _Hamlet._ + +Haines opened his newbought book. + +—I’m sorry, he said. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all +minds that have lost their balance. + +The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street: + +—_England expects_... + +Buck Mulligan’s primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter. + +—You should see him, he said, when his body loses its balance. +Wandering Ængus I call him. + +—I am sure he has an _idée fixe,_ Haines said, pinching his chin +thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. Now I am speculating what it +would be likely to be. Such persons always have. + +Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely. + +—They drove his wits astray, he said, by visions of hell. He will never +capture the Attic note. The note of Swinburne, of all poets, the white +death and the ruddy birth. That is his tragedy. He can never be a poet. +The joy of creation... + +—Eternal punishment, Haines said, nodding curtly. I see. I tackled him +this morning on belief. There was something on his mind, I saw. It’s +rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an +interesting point out of that. + +Buck Mulligan’s watchful eyes saw the waitress come. He helped her to +unload her tray. + +—He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, amid +the cheerful cups. The moral idea seems lacking, the sense of destiny, +of retribution. Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea. +Does he write anything for your movement? + +He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream. +Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over +its smoking pith. He bit off a soft piece hungrily. + +—Ten years, he said, chewing and laughing. He is going to write +something in ten years. + +—Seems a long way off, Haines said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon. +Still, I shouldn’t wonder if he did after all. + +He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his cup. + +—This is real Irish cream I take it, he said with forbearance. I don’t +want to be imposed on. + +Elijah, skiff, light crumpled throwaway, sailed eastward by flanks of +ships and trawlers, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping +street past Benson’s ferry, and by the threemasted schooner _Rosevean_ +from Bridgwater with bricks. + +* * * + + +Almidano Artifoni walked past Holles street, past Sewell’s yard. Behind +him Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, with +stickumbrelladustcoat dangling, shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith’s +house and, crossing, walked along Merrion square. Distantly behind him +a blind stripling tapped his way by the wall of College park. + +Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as Mr +Lewis Werner’s cheerful windows, then turned and strode back along +Merrion square, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling. + +At the corner of Wilde’s house he halted, frowned at Elijah’s name +announced on the Metropolitan hall, frowned at the distant pleasance of +duke’s lawn. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun. With ratsteeth +bared he muttered: + +—_Coactus volui._ + +He strode on for Clare street, grinding his fierce word. + +As he strode past Mr Bloom’s dental windows the sway of his dustcoat +brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards, +having buffeted a thewless body. The blind stripling turned his sickly +face after the striding form. + +—God’s curse on you, he said sourly, whoever you are! You’re blinder +nor I am, you bitch’s bastard! + +* * * + + +Opposite Ruggy O’Donohoe’s Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, pawing the +pound and a half of Mangan’s, late Fehrenbach’s, porksteaks he had been +sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling. It was too blooming +dull sitting in the parlour with Mrs Stoer and Mrs Quigley and Mrs +MacDowell and the blind down and they all at their sniffles and sipping +sups of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney brought from Tunney’s. +And they eating crumbs of the cottage fruitcake, jawing the whole +blooming time and sighing. + +After Wicklow lane the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner, +stopped him. He stood looking in at the two puckers stripped to their +pelts and putting up their props. From the sidemirrors two mourning +Masters Dignam gaped silently. Myler Keogh, Dublin’s pet lamb, will +meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the Portobello bruiser, for a purse of +fifty sovereigns. Gob, that’d be a good pucking match to see. Myler +Keogh, that’s the chap sparring out to him with the green sash. Two bar +entrance, soldiers half price. I could easy do a bunk on ma. Master +Dignam on his left turned as he turned. That’s me in mourning. When is +it? May the twentysecond. Sure, the blooming thing is all over. He +turned to the right and on his right Master Dignam turned, his cap +awry, his collar sticking up. Buttoning it down, his chin lifted, he +saw the image of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, beside the two +puckers. One of them mots that do be in the packets of fags Stoer +smokes that his old fellow welted hell out of him for one time he found +out. + +Master Dignam got his collar down and dawdled on. The best pucker going +for strength was Fitzsimons. One puck in the wind from that fellow +would knock you into the middle of next week, man. But the best pucker +for science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out +of him, dodging and all. + +In Grafton street Master Dignam saw a red flower in a toff’s mouth and +a swell pair of kicks on him and he listening to what the drunk was +telling him and grinning all the time. + +No Sandymount tram. + +Master Dignam walked along Nassau street, shifted the porksteaks to his +other hand. His collar sprang up again and he tugged it down. The +blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the shirt, blooming +end to it. He met schoolboys with satchels. I’m not going tomorrow +either, stay away till Monday. He met other schoolboys. Do they notice +I’m in mourning? Uncle Barney said he’d get it into the paper tonight. +Then they’ll all see it in the paper and read my name printed and pa’s +name. + +His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was a +fly walking over it up to his eye. The scrunch that was when they were +screwing the screws into the coffin: and the bumps when they were +bringing it downstairs. + +Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour and uncle Barney telling +the men how to get it round the bend. A big coffin it was, and high and +heavylooking. How was that? The last night pa was boosed he was +standing on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to +Tunney’s for to boose more and he looked butty and short in his shirt. +Never see him again. Death, that is. Pa is dead. My father is dead. He +told me to be a good son to ma. I couldn’t hear the other things he +said but I saw his tongue and his teeth trying to say it better. Poor +pa. That was Mr Dignam, my father. I hope he’s in purgatory now because +he went to confession to Father Conroy on Saturday night. + +* * * + + +William Humble, earl of Dudley, and lady Dudley, accompanied by +lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, drove out after luncheon from the +viceregal lodge. In the following carriage were the honourable Mrs +Paget, Miss de Courcy and the honourable Gerald Ward A. D. C. in +attendance. + +The cavalcade passed out by the lower gate of Phoenix park saluted by +obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the northern +quays. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way through the +metropolis. At Bloody bridge Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the river greeted +him vainly from afar. Between Queen’s and Whitworth bridges lord +Dudley’s viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr Dudley +White, B. L., M. A., who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M. E. White’s, +the pawnbroker’s, at the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose +with his forefinger, undecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough +more quickly by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot +through Smithfield, Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus. In the +porch of Four Courts Richie Goulding with the costbag of Goulding, +Collis and Ward saw him with surprise. Past Richmond bridge at the +doorstep of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the +Patriotic Insurance Company, an elderly female about to enter changed +her plan and retracing her steps by King’s windows smiled credulously +on the representative of His Majesty. From its sluice in Wood quay wall +under Tom Devan’s office Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue of +liquid sewage. Above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel, gold by +bronze, Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss Douce’s head watched and admired. +On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, steering his way from the greenhouse +for the subsheriff’s office, stood still in midstreet and brought his +hat low. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus’ greeting. From +Cahill’s corner the reverend Hugh C. Love, M. A., made obeisance +unperceived, mindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant had held +of yore rich advowsons. On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M’Coy, taking +leave of each other, watched the carriages go by. Passing by Roger +Greene’s office and Dollard’s big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, +carrying the Catesby’s cork lino letters for her father who was laid +up, knew by the style it was the lord and lady lieutenant but she +couldn’t see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring’s +big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its +being the lord lieutenant. Beyond Lundy Foot’s from the shaded door of +Kavanagh’s winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness +towards the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. The +Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, G. C. V. O., passed +Micky Anderson’s all times ticking watches and Henry and James’s wax +smartsuited freshcheeked models, the gentleman Henry, _dernier cri_ +James. Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the +approach of the cavalcade. Tom Rochford, seeing the eyes of lady Dudley +fixed on him, took his thumbs quickly out of the pockets of his claret +waistcoat and doffed his cap to her. A charming _soubrette,_ great +Marie Kendall, with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from +her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, and upon +lieutenantcolonel H. G. Heseltine, and also upon the honourable Gerald +Ward A. D. C. From the window of the D. B. C. Buck Mulligan gaily, and +Haines gravely, gazed down on the viceregal equipage over the shoulders +of eager guests, whose mass of forms darkened the chessboard whereon +John Howard Parnell looked intently. In Fownes’s street Dilly Dedalus, +straining her sight upward from Chardenal’s first French primer, saw +sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning in the glare. John Henry +Menton, filling the doorway of Commercial Buildings, stared from +winebig oyster eyes, holding a fat gold hunter watch not looked at in +his fat left hand not feeling it. Where the foreleg of King Billy’s +horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from +under the hoofs of the outriders. She shouted in his ear the tidings. +Understanding, he shifted his tomes to his left breast and saluted the +second carriage. The honourable Gerald Ward A. D. C., agreeably +surprised, made haste to reply. At Ponsonby’s corner a jaded white +flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him, +E.L.Y.’S, while outriders pranced past and carriages. Opposite Pigott’s +music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c, gaily +apparelled, gravely walked, outpassed by a viceroy and unobserved. By +the provost’s wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes +and socks with skyblue clocks to the refrain of _My girl’s a Yorkshire +girl._ + +Blazes Boylan presented to the leaders’ skyblue frontlets and high +action a skyblue tie, a widebrimmed straw hat at a rakish angle and a +suit of indigo serge. His hands in his jacket pockets forgot to salute +but he offered to the three ladies the bold admiration of his eyes and +the red flower between his lips. As they drove along Nassau street His +Excellency drew the attention of his bowing consort to the programme of +music which was being discoursed in College park. Unseen brazen +highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the _cortège_: + + But though she’s a factory lass + And wears no fancy clothes. + Baraabum. + Yet I’ve a sort of a + Yorkshire relish for + My little Yorkshire rose. + Baraabum. + +Thither of the wall the quartermile flat handicappers, M. C. Green, H. +Shrift, T. M. Patey, C. Scaife, J. B. Jeffs, G. N. Morphy, F. +Stevenson, C. Adderly and W. C. Huggard, started in pursuit. Striding +past Finn’s hotel Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell +stared through a fierce eyeglass across the carriages at the head of Mr +M. E. Solomons in the window of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. +Deep in Leinster street by Trinity’s postern a loyal king’s man, +Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap. As the glossy horses pranced by +Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw salutes +being given to the gent with the topper and raised also his new black +cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. His collar too sprang up. +The viceroy, on his way to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds +for Mercer’s hospital, drove with his following towards Lower Mount +street. He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent’s. In Lower +Mount street a pedestrian in a brown macintosh, eating dry bread, +passed swiftly and unscathed across the viceroy’s path. At the Royal +Canal bridge, from his hoarding, Mr Eugene Stratton, his blub lips +agrin, bade all comers welcome to Pembroke township. At Haddington road +corner two sanded women halted themselves, an umbrella and a bag in +which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord mayor and lady +mayoress without his golden chain. On Northumberland and Lansdowne +roads His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male +walkers, the salute of two small schoolboys at the garden gate of the +house said to have been admired by the late queen when visiting the +Irish capital with her husband, the prince consort, in 1849 and the +salute of Almidano Artifoni’s sturdy trousers swallowed by a closing +door. + + +[ 11 ] + +Bronze by gold heard the hoofirons, steelyringing. + +Imperthnthn thnthnthn. + +Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. + +Horrid! And gold flushed more. + +A husky fifenote blew. + +Blew. Blue bloom is on the. + +Goldpinnacled hair. + +A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile. + +Trilling, trilling: Idolores. + +Peep! Who’s in the... peepofgold? + +Tink cried to bronze in pity. + +And a call, pure, long and throbbing. Longindying call. + +Decoy. Soft word. But look: the bright stars fade. Notes chirruping +answer. + +O rose! Castile. The morn is breaking. + +Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. + +Coin rang. Clock clacked. + +Avowal. _Sonnez._ I could. Rebound of garter. Not leave thee. Smack. +_La cloche!_ Thigh smack. Avowal. Warm. Sweetheart, goodbye! + +Jingle. Bloo. + +Boomed crashing chords. When love absorbs. War! War! The tympanum. + +A sail! A veil awave upon the waves. + +Lost. Throstle fluted. All is lost now. + +Horn. Hawhorn. + +When first he saw. Alas! + +Full tup. Full throb. + +Warbling. Ah, lure! Alluring. + +Martha! Come! + +Clapclap. Clipclap. Clappyclap. + +Goodgod henev erheard inall. + +Deaf bald Pat brought pad knife took up. + +A moonlit nightcall: far, far. + +I feel so sad. P. S. So lonely blooming. + +Listen! + +The spiked and winding cold seahorn. Have you the? Each, and for other, +plash and silent roar. + +Pearls: when she. Liszt’s rhapsodies. Hissss. + +You don’t? + +Did not: no, no: believe: Lidlyd. With a cock with a carra. + +Black. Deepsounding. Do, Ben, do. + +Wait while you wait. Hee hee. Wait while you hee. + +But wait! + +Low in dark middle earth. Embedded ore. + +Naminedamine. Preacher is he: + +All gone. All fallen. + +Tiny, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. + +Amen! He gnashed in fury. + +Fro. To, fro. A baton cool protruding. + +Bronzelydia by Minagold. + +By bronze, by gold, in oceangreen of shadow. Bloom. Old Bloom. + +One rapped, one tapped, with a carra, with a cock. + +Pray for him! Pray, good people! + +His gouty fingers nakkering. + +Big Benaben. Big Benben. + +Last rose Castile of summer left bloom I feel so sad alone. + +Pwee! Little wind piped wee. + +True men. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Ay, ay. Like you men. Will lift your +tschink with tschunk. + +Fff! Oo! + +Where bronze from anear? Where gold from afar? Where hoofs? + +Rrrpr. Kraa. Kraandl. + +Then not till then. My eppripfftaph. Be pfrwritt. + +Done. + +Begin! + + + +Bronze by gold, miss Douce’s head by miss Kennedy’s head, over the +crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing +steel. + +—Is that her? asked miss Kennedy. + +Miss Douce said yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and _eau de Nil._ + +—Exquisite contrast, miss Kennedy said. + +When all agog miss Douce said eagerly: + +—Look at the fellow in the tall silk. + +—Who? Where? gold asked more eagerly. + +—In the second carriage, miss Douce’s wet lips said, laughing in the +sun. + +He’s looking. Mind till I see. + +She darted, bronze, to the backmost corner, flattening her face against +the pane in a halo of hurried breath. + +Her wet lips tittered: + +—He’s killed looking back. + +She laughed: + +—O wept! Aren’t men frightful idiots? + +With sadness. + +Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair +behind an ear. Sauntering sadly, gold no more, she twisted twined a +hair. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. + +—It’s them has the fine times, sadly then she said. + +A man. + +Bloowho went by by Moulang’s pipes bearing in his breast the sweets of +sin, by Wine’s antiques, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by +Carroll’s dusky battered plate, for Raoul. + +The boots to them, them in the bar, them barmaids came. For them +unheeding him he banged on the counter his tray of chattering china. +And + +—There’s your teas, he said. + +Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned +lithia crate, safe from eyes, low. + +—What is it? loud boots unmannerly asked. + +—Find out, miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint. + +—Your _beau,_ is it? + +A haughty bronze replied: + +—I’ll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of your +impertinent insolence. + +—Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as he retreated as +she threatened as he had come. + +Bloom. + +On her flower frowning miss Douce said: + +—Most aggravating that young brat is. If he doesn’t conduct himself +I’ll wring his ear for him a yard long. + +Ladylike in exquisite contrast. + +—Take no notice, miss Kennedy rejoined. + +She poured in a teacup tea, then back in the teapot tea. They cowered +under their reef of counter, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, +waiting for their teas to draw. They pawed their blouses, both of black +satin, two and nine a yard, waiting for their teas to draw, and two and +seven. + +Yes, bronze from anear, by gold from afar, heard steel from anear, +hoofs ring from afar, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel. + +—Am I awfully sunburnt? + +Miss bronze unbloused her neck. + +—No, said miss Kennedy. It gets brown after. Did you try the borax with +the cherry laurel water? + +Miss Douce halfstood to see her skin askance in the barmirror +gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their +midst a shell. + +—And leave it to my hands, she said. + +—Try it with the glycerine, miss Kennedy advised. + +Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce + +—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. I asked that +old fogey in Boyd’s for something for my skin. + +Miss Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, grimaced and prayed: + +—O, don’t remind me of him for mercy’ sake! + +—But wait till I tell you, miss Douce entreated. + +Sweet tea miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears +with little fingers. + +—No, don’t, she cried. + +—I won’t listen, she cried. + +But Bloom? + +Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey’s tone: + +—For your what? says he. + +Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, to speak: but said, but prayed +again: + +—Don’t let me think of him or I’ll expire. The hideous old wretch! That +night in the Antient Concert Rooms. + +She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. + +—Here he was, miss Douce said, cocking her bronze head three quarters, +ruffling her nosewings. Hufa! Hufa! + +Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy’s throat. Miss Douce +huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a +snout in quest. + +—O! shrieking, miss Kennedy cried. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? + +Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, shouting: + +—And your other eye! + +Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner’s name. Why do I always think +Figather? Gathering figs, I think. And Prosper Loré’s huguenot name. By +Bassi’s blessed virgins Bloom’s dark eyes went by. Bluerobed, white +under, come to me. God they believe she is: or goddess. Those today. I +could not see. That fellow spoke. A student. After with Dedalus’ son. +He might be Mulligan. All comely virgins. That brings those rakes of +fellows in: her white. + +By went his eyes. The sweets of sin. Sweet are the sweets. + +Of sin. + +In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy +your other eye. They threw young heads back, bronze gigglegold, to let +freefly their laughter, screaming, your other, signals to each other, +high piercing notes. + +Ah, panting, sighing, sighing, ah, fordone, their mirth died down. + +Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised, drank a sip and +gigglegiggled. Miss Douce, bending over the teatray, ruffled again her +nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her +fair pinnacles of hair, stooping, her tortoise napecomb showed, +spluttered out of her mouth her tea, choking in tea and laughter, +coughing with choking, crying: + +—O greasy eyes! Imagine being married to a man like that! she cried. +With his bit of beard! + +Douce gave full vent to a splendid yell, a full yell of full woman, +delight, joy, indignation. + +—Married to the greasy nose! she yelled. + +Shrill, with deep laughter, after, gold after bronze, they urged each +each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, +shrilldeep, to laughter after laughter. And then laughed more. Greasy I +knows. Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and +pinnacled by glossycombed, against the counterledge. All flushed (O!), +panting, sweating (O!), all breathless. + +Married to Bloom, to greaseabloom. + +—O saints above! miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose. I +wished I hadn’t laughed so much. I feel all wet. + +—O, miss Douce! miss Kennedy protested. You horrid thing! + +And flushed yet more (you horrid!), more goldenly. + +By Cantwell’s offices roved Greaseabloom, by Ceppi’s virgins, bright of +their oils. Nannetti’s father hawked those things about, wheedling at +doors as I. Religion pays. Must see him for that par. Eat first. I +want. Not yet. At four, she said. Time ever passing. Clockhands +turning. On. Where eat? The Clarence, Dolphin. On. For Raoul. Eat. If I +net five guineas with those ads. The violet silk petticoats. Not yet. +The sweets of sin. + +Flushed less, still less, goldenly paled. + +Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. Chips, picking chips off one of his +rocky thumbnails. Chips. He strolled. + +—O, welcome back, miss Douce. + +He held her hand. Enjoyed her holidays? + +—Tiptop. + +He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. + +—Gorgeous, she said. Look at the holy show I am. Lying out on the +strand all day. + +Bronze whiteness. + +—That was exceedingly naughty of you, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed +her hand indulgently. Tempting poor simple males. + +Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away. + +—O go away! she said. You’re very simple, I don’t think. + +He was. + +—Well now I am, he mused. I looked so simple in the cradle they +christened me simple Simon. + +—You must have been a doaty, miss Douce made answer. And what did the +doctor order today? + +—Well now, he mused, whatever you say yourself. I think I’ll trouble +you for some fresh water and a half glass of whisky. + +Jingle. + +—With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce agreed. + +With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane’s +she turned herself. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from +her crystal keg. Forth from the skirt of his coat Mr Dedalus brought +pouch and pipe. Alacrity she served. He blew through the flue two husky +fifenotes. + +—By Jove, he mused, I often wanted to see the Mourne mountains. Must be +a great tonic in the air down there. But a long threatening comes at +last, they say. Yes. Yes. + +Yes. He fingered shreds of hair, her maidenhair, her mermaid’s, into +the bowl. Chips. Shreds. Musing. Mute. + +None nought said nothing. Yes. + +Gaily miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: + +—_O, Idolores, queen of the eastern seas!_ + +—Was Mr Lidwell in today? + +In came Lenehan. Round him peered Lenehan. Mr Bloom reached Essex +bridge. Yes, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. To Martha I must write. +Buy paper. Daly’s. Girl there civil. Bloom. Old Bloom. Blue bloom is on +the rye. + +—He was in at lunchtime, miss Douce said. + +Lenehan came forward. + +—Was Mr Boylan looking for me? + +He asked. She answered: + +—Miss Kennedy, was Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs? + +She asked. Miss voice of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised, her +gaze upon a page: + +—No. He was not. + +Miss gaze of Kennedy, heard, not seen, read on. Lenehan round the +sandwichbell wound his round body round. + +—Peep! Who’s in the corner? + +No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. To mind her +stops. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess. + +Jingle jaunty jingle. + +Girlgold she read and did not glance. Take no notice. She took no +notice while he read by rote a solfa fable for her, plappering flatly: + +—Ah fox met ah stork. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your +bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? + +He droned in vain. Miss Douce turned to her tea aside. + +He sighed aside: + +—Ah me! O my! + +He greeted Mr Dedalus and got a nod. + +—Greetings from the famous son of a famous father. + +—Who may he be? Mr Dedalus asked. + +Lenehan opened most genial arms. Who? + +—Who may he be? he asked. Can you ask? Stephen, the youthful bard. + +Dry. + +Mr Dedalus, famous father, laid by his dry filled pipe. + +—I see, he said. I didn’t recognise him for the moment. I hear he is +keeping very select company. Have you seen him lately? + +He had. + +—I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day, said Lenehan. In +Mooney’s _en ville_ and in Mooney’s _sur mer._ He had received the +rhino for the labour of his muse. + +He smiled at bronze’s teabathed lips, at listening lips and eyes: + +—The _élite_ of Erin hung upon his lips. The ponderous pundit, Hugh +MacHugh, Dublin’s most brilliant scribe and editor and that minstrel +boy of the wild wet west who is known by the euphonious appellation of +the O’Madden Burke. + +After an interval Mr Dedalus raised his grog and + +—That must have been highly diverting, said he. I see. + +He see. He drank. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Set down his +glass. + +He looked towards the saloon door. + +—I see you have moved the piano. + +—The tuner was in today, miss Douce replied, tuning it for the smoking +concert and I never heard such an exquisite player. + +—Is that a fact? + +—Didn’t he, miss Kennedy? The real classical, you know. And blind too, +poor fellow. Not twenty I’m sure he was. + +—Is that a fact? Mr Dedalus said. + +He drank and strayed away. + +—So sad to look at his face, miss Douce condoled. + +God’s curse on bitch’s bastard. + +Tink to her pity cried a diner’s bell. To the door of the bar and +diningroom came bald Pat, came bothered Pat, came Pat, waiter of +Ormond. Lager for diner. Lager without alacrity she served. + +With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, for +jinglejaunty blazes boy. + +Upholding the lid he (who?) gazed in the coffin (coffin?) at the +oblique triple (piano!) wires. He pressed (the same who pressed +indulgently her hand), soft pedalling, a triple of keys to see the +thicknesses of felt advancing, to hear the muffled hammerfall in +action. + +Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was in +Wisdom Hely’s wise Bloom in Daly’s Henry Flower bought. Are you not +happy in your home? Flower to console me and a pin cuts lo. Means +something, language of flow. Was it a daisy? Innocence that is. +Respectable girl meet after mass. Thanks awfully muchly. Wise Bloom +eyed on the door a poster, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. +Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all. Hair streaming: lovelorn. For +some man. For Raoul. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat +riding on a jaunting car. It is. Again. Third time. Coincidence. + +Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the bridge to Ormond quay. +Follow. Risk it. Go quick. At four. Near now. Out. + +—Twopence, sir, the shopgirl dared to say. + +—Aha... I was forgetting... Excuse... + +—And four. + +At four she. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Bloo smi qui go. +Ternoon. Think you’re the only pebble on the beach? Does that to all. + +For men. + +In drowsy silence gold bent on her page. + +From the saloon a call came, long in dying. That was a tuningfork the +tuner had that he forgot that he now struck. A call again. That he now +poised that it now throbbed. You hear? It throbbed, pure, purer, softly +and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Longer in dying call. + +Pat paid for diner’s popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and +popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald and bothered, with miss +Douce. + +—_The bright stars fade_... + +A voiceless song sang from within, singing: + +—... _the morn is breaking._ + +A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive +hands. Brightly the keys, all twinkling, linked, all harpsichording, +called to a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of youth, of love’s +leavetaking, life’s, love’s morn. + +—_The dewdrops pearl_... + +Lenehan’s lips over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy. + +—But look this way, he said, rose of Castile. + +Jingle jaunted by the curb and stopped. + +She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, +dreamily rose. + +—Did she fall or was she pushed? he asked her. + +She answered, slighting: + +—Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies. + +Like lady, ladylike. + +Blazes Boylan’s smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he +strode. Yes, gold from anear by bronze from afar. Lenehan heard and +knew and hailed him: + +—See the conquering hero comes. + +Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, unconquered +hero. See me he might. The seat he sat on: warm. Black wary hecat +walked towards Richie Goulding’s legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. + +—_And I from thee_... + +—I heard you were round, said Blazes Boylan. + +He touched to fair miss Kennedy a rim of his slanted straw. She smiled +on him. But sister bronze outsmiled her, preening for him her richer +hair, a bosom and a rose. + +Smart Boylan bespoke potions. + +—What’s your cry? Glass of bitter? Glass of bitter, please, and a +sloegin for me. Wire in yet? + +Not yet. At four she. Who said four? + +Cowley’s red lugs and bulging apple in the door of the sheriff’s +office. + +Avoid. Goulding a chance. What is he doing in the Ormond? Car waiting. +Wait. + +Hello. Where off to? Something to eat? I too was just. In here. What, +Ormond? Best value in Dublin. Is that so? Diningroom. Sit tight there. +See, not be seen. I think I’ll join you. Come on. Richie led on. Bloom +followed bag. Dinner fit for a prince. + +Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, her +bust, that all but burst, so high. + +—O! O! jerked Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. O! + +But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. + +—Why don’t you grow? asked Blazes Boylan. + +Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his +lips, looked as it flowed (flower in his coat: who gave him?), and +syrupped with her voice: + +—Fine goods in small parcels. + +That is to say she. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. + +—Here’s fortune, Blazes said. + +He pitched a broad coin down. Coin rang. + +—Hold on, said Lenehan, till I... + +—Fortune, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. + +—Sceptre will win in a canter, he said. + +—I plunged a bit, said Boylan winking and drinking. Not on my own, you +know. Fancy of a friend of mine. + +Lenehan still drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce’s +lips that all but hummed, not shut, the oceansong her lips had trilled. +Idolores. The eastern seas. + +Clock whirred. Miss Kennedy passed their way (flower, wonder who gave), +bearing away teatray. Clock clacked. + +Miss Douce took Boylan’s coin, struck boldly the cashregister. It +clanged. Clock clacked. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the till +and hummed and handed coins in change. Look to the west. A clack. For +me. + +—What time is that? asked Blazes Boylan. Four? + +O’clock. + +Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged +Blazes Boylan’s elbowsleeve. + +—Let’s hear the time, he said. + +The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered +tables. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat attending, a table +near the door. Be near. At four. Has he forgotten? Perhaps a trick. Not +come: whet appetite. I couldn’t do. Wait, wait. Pat, waiter, waited. + +Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure’s skyblue bow and eyes. + +—Go on, pressed Lenehan. There’s no-one. He never heard. + +—... _to Flora’s lips did hie._ + +High, a high note pealed in the treble clear. + +Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought Blazes +Boylan’s flower and eyes. + +—Please, please. + +He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. + +—_I could not leave thee_... + +—Afterwits, miss Douce promised coyly. + +—No, now, urged Lenehan. _Sonnez la cloche!_ O do! There’s no-one. + +She looked. Quick. Miss Kenn out of earshot. Sudden bent. Two kindling +faces watched her bend. + +Quavering the chords strayed from the air, found it again, lost chord, +and lost and found it, faltering. + +—Go on! Do! _Sonnez!_ + +Bending, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. Delayed. Taunted +them still, bending, suspending, with wilful eyes. + +_—Sonnez!_ + +Smack. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter +smackwarm against her smackable a woman’s warmhosed thigh. + +—_La cloche!_ cried gleeful Lenehan. Trained by owner. No sawdust +there. + +She smilesmirked supercilious (wept! aren’t men?), but, lightward +gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan. + +—You’re the essence of vulgarity, she in gliding said. + +Boylan, eyed, eyed. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his +chalice tiny, sucking the last fat violet syrupy drops. His spellbound +eyes went after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar by +mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses +shimmering, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with +sunnier bronze. + +Yes, bronze from anearby. + +—... _Sweetheart, goodbye!_ + +—I’m off, said Boylan with impatience. + +He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. + +—Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, drinking quickly. I wanted to tell you. +Tom Rochford... + +—Come on to blazes, said Blazes Boylan, going. + +Lenehan gulped to go. + +—Got the horn or what? he said. Wait. I’m coming. + +He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the +threshold, saluting forms, a bulky with a slender. + +—How do you do, Mr Dollard? + +—Eh? How do? How do? Ben Dollard’s vague bass answered, turning an +instant from Father Cowley’s woe. He won’t give you any trouble, Bob. +Alf Bergan will speak to the long fellow. We’ll put a barleystraw in +that Judas Iscariot’s ear this time. + +Sighing Mr Dedalus came through the saloon, a finger soothing an +eyelid. + +—Hoho, we will, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. Come on, Simon. Give us a +ditty. We heard the piano. + +Bald Pat, bothered waiter, waited for drink orders. Power for Richie. +And Bloom? Let me see. Not make him walk twice. His corns. Four now. +How warm this black is. Course nerves a bit. Refracts (is it?) heat. +Let me see. Cider. Yes, bottle of cider. + +—What’s that? Mr Dedalus said. I was only vamping, man. + +—Come on, come on, Ben Dollard called. Begone dull care. Come, Bob. + +He ambled Dollard, bulky slops, before them (hold that fellow with the: +hold him now) into the saloon. He plumped him Dollard on the stool. His +gouty paws plumped chords. Plumped, stopped abrupt. + +Bald Pat in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Bothered, he wanted +Power and cider. Bronze by the window, watched, bronze from afar. + +Jingle a tinkle jaunted. + +Bloom heard a jing, a little sound. He’s off. Light sob of breath Bloom +sighed on the silent bluehued flowers. Jingling. He’s gone. Jingle. +Hear. + +—Love and War, Ben, Mr Dedalus said. God be with old times. + +Miss Douce’s brave eyes, unregarded, turned from the crossblind, +smitten by sunlight. Gone. Pensive (who knows?), smitten (the smiting +light), she lowered the dropblind with a sliding cord. She drew down +pensive (why did he go so quick when I?) about her bronze, over the bar +where bald stood by sister gold, inexquisite contrast, contrast +inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of +shadow, _eau de Nil._ + +—Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that night, Father Cowley reminded +them. There was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the +Collard grand. + +There was. + +—A symposium all his own, Mr Dedalus said. The devil wouldn’t stop him. +He was a crotchety old fellow in the primary stage of drink. + +—God, do you remember? Ben bulky Dollard said, turning from the +punished keyboard. And by Japers I had no wedding garment. + +They laughed all three. He had no wed. All trio laughed. No wedding +garment. + +—Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Mr Dedalus said. Where’s +my pipe, by the way? + +He wandered back to the bar to the lost chord pipe. Bald Pat carried +two diners’ drinks, Richie and Poldy. And Father Cowley laughed again. + +—I saved the situation, Ben, I think. + +—You did, averred Ben Dollard. I remember those tight trousers too. +That was a brilliant idea, Bob. + +Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. He saved the +situa. Tight trou. Brilliant ide. + +—I knew he was on the rocks, he said. The wife was playing the piano in +the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very trifling consideration and +who was it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other business? Do you +remember? We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap +in Keogh’s gave us the number. Remember? + +Ben remembered, his broad visage wondering. + +—By God, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. + +Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand. + +—Merrion square style. Balldresses, by God, and court dresses. He +wouldn’t take any money either. What? Any God’s quantity of cocked hats +and boleros and trunkhose. What? + +—Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus nodded. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of +all descriptions. + +Jingle jaunted down the quays. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres. + +Liver and bacon. Steak and kidney pie. Right, sir. Right, Pat. + +Mrs Marion. Met him pike hoses. Smell of burn. Of Paul de Kock. Nice +name he. + +—What’s this her name was? A buxom lassy. Marion... + +—Tweedy. + +—Yes. Is she alive? + +—And kicking. + +—She was a daughter of... + +—Daughter of the regiment. + +—Yes, begad. I remember the old drummajor. + +Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after + +—Irish? I don’t know, faith. Is she, Simon? + +Puff after stiff, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling. + +—Buccinator muscle is... What?... Bit rusty... O, she is... My Irish +Molly, O. + +He puffed a pungent plumy blast. + +—From the rock of Gibraltar... all the way. + +They pined in depth of ocean shadow, gold by the beerpull, bronze by +maraschino, thoughtful all two. Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, +Drumcondra with Idolores, a queen, Dolores, silent. + +Pat served, uncovered dishes. Leopold cut liverslices. As said before +he ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods’ roes +while Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward ate steak and kidney, steak then +kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate. + +Bloom with Goulding, married in silence, ate. Dinners fit for princes. + +By Bachelor’s walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in sun in +heat, mare’s glossy rump atrot, with flick of whip, on bounding tyres: +sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, ardentbold. Horn. Have you +the? Horn. Have you the? Haw haw horn. + +Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding +chords: + +—_When love absorbs my ardent soul_... + +Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. + +—War! War! cried Father Cowley. You’re the warrior. + +—So I am, Ben Warrior laughed. I was thinking of your landlord. Love or +money. + +He stopped. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. + +—Sure, you’d burst the tympanum of her ear, man, Mr Dedalus said +through smoke aroma, with an organ like yours. + +In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the keyboard. He would. + +—Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley added. Half time, Ben. +_Amoroso ma non troppo._ Let me there. + +Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. She +passed a remark. It was indeed, first gentleman said, beautiful +weather. They drank cool stout. Did she know where the lord lieutenant +was going? And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. No, she couldn’t say. +But it would be in the paper. O, she need not trouble. No trouble. She +waved about her outspread _Independent,_ searching, the lord +lieutenant, her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Too much +trouble, first gentleman said. O, not in the least. Way he looked that. +Lord lieutenant. Gold by bronze heard iron steel. + + —............ _my ardent soul +I care not foror the morrow._ + +In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Love and War someone is. +Ben Dollard’s famous. Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit +for that concert. Trousers tight as a drum on him. Musical porkers. +Molly did laugh when he went out. Threw herself back across the bed, +screaming, kicking. With all his belongings on show. O saints above, +I’m drenched! O, the women in the front row! O, I never laughed so +many! Well, of course that’s what gives him the base barreltone. For +instance eunuchs. Wonder who’s playing. Nice touch. Must be Cowley. +Musical. Knows whatever note you play. Bad breath he has, poor chap. +Stopped. + +Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George +Lidwell, gentleman, entering. Good afternoon. She gave her moist (a +lady’s) hand to his firm clasp. Afternoon. Yes, she was back. To the +old dingdong again. + +—Your friends are inside, Mr Lidwell. + +George Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand. + +Bloom ate liv as said before. Clean here at least. That chap in the +Burton, gummy with gristle. No-one here: Goulding and I. Clean tables, +flowers, mitres of napkins. Pat to and fro. Bald Pat. Nothing to do. +Best value in Dub. + +Piano again. Cowley it is. Way he sits in to it, like one together, +mutual understanding. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the +bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache. Her high long snore. +Night we were in the box. Trombone under blowing like a grampus, +between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. +Conductor’s legs too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Do right to hide +them. + +Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. + +Only the harp. Lovely. Gold glowering light. Girl touched it. Poop of a +lovely. Gravy’s rather good fit for a. Golden ship. Erin. The harp that +once or twice. Cool hands. Ben Howth, the rhododendrons. We are their +harps. I. He. Old. Young. + +—Ah, I couldn’t, man, Mr Dedalus said, shy, listless. + +Strongly. + +—Go on, blast you! Ben Dollard growled. Get it out in bits. + +—_M’appari,_ Simon, Father Cowley said. + +Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his long +arms outheld. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. Softly +he sang to a dusty seascape there: _A Last Farewell._ A headland, a +ship, a sail upon the billows. Farewell. A lovely girl, her veil awave +upon the wind upon the headland, wind around her. + +Cowley sang: + +_—M’appari tutt’amor: +Il mio sguardo l’incontr..._ + +She waved, unhearing Cowley, her veil, to one departing, dear one, to +wind, love, speeding sail, return. + +—Go on, Simon. + +—Ah, sure, my dancing days are done, Ben... Well... + +Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting, +touched the obedient keys. + +—No, Simon, Father Cowley turned. Play it in the original. One flat. + +The keys, obedient, rose higher, told, faltered, confessed, confused. + +Up stage strode Father Cowley. + +—Here, Simon, I’ll accompany you, he said. Get up. + +By Graham Lemon’s pineapple rock, by Elvery’s elephant jingly jogged. + +Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at meat fit for princes sat princes Bloom +and Goulding. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider. + +Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said: _Sonnambula._ He +heard Joe Maas sing that one night. Ah, what M’Guckin! Yes. In his way. +Choirboy style. Maas was the boy. Massboy. A lyrical tenor if you like. +Never forget it. Never. + +Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain. +Backache he. Bright’s bright eye. Next item on the programme. Paying +the piper. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Stave it off +awhile. Sings too: _Down among the dead men._ Appropriate. Kidney pie. +Sweets to the. Not making much hand of it. Best value in. +Characteristic of him. Power. Particular about his drink. Flaw in the +glass, fresh Vartry water. Fecking matches from counters to save. Then +squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. And when he’s wanted not a +farthing. Screwed refusing to pay his fare. Curious types. + +Never would Richie forget that night. As long as he lived: never. In +the gods of the old Royal with little Peake. And when the first note. + +Speech paused on Richie’s lips. + +Coming out with a whopper now. Rhapsodies about damn all. Believes his +own lies. Does really. Wonderful liar. But want a good memory. + +—Which air is that? asked Leopold Bloom. + +—_All is lost now_. + +Richie cocked his lips apout. A low incipient note sweet banshee +murmured: all. A thrush. A throstle. His breath, birdsweet, good teeth +he’s proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Is lost. Rich sound. Two +notes in one there. Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. Taking my +motives he twined and turned them. All most too new call is lost in +all. Echo. How sweet the answer. How is that done? All lost now. +Mournful he whistled. Fall, surrender, lost. + +Bloom bent leopold ear, turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase. +Order. Yes, I remember. Lovely air. In sleep she went to him. Innocence +in the moon. Brave. Don’t know their danger. Still hold her back. Call +name. Touch water. Jingle jaunty. Too late. She longed to go. That’s +why. Woman. As easy stop the sea. Yes: all is lost. + +—A beautiful air, said Bloom lost Leopold. I know it well. + +Never in all his life had Richie Goulding. + +He knows it well too. Or he feels. Still harping on his daughter. Wise +child that knows her father, Dedalus said. Me? + +Bloom askance over liverless saw. Face of the all is lost. Rollicking +Richie once. Jokes old stale now. Wagging his ear. Napkinring in his +eye. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Crosseyed Walter sir I +did sir. Wouldn’t trouble only I was expecting some money. Apologise. + +Piano again. Sounds better than last time I heard. Tuned probably. +Stopped again. + +Dollard and Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with it. + +—With it, Simon. + +—It, Simon. + +—Ladies and gentlemen, I am most deeply obliged by your kind +solicitations. + +—It, Simon. + +—I have no money but if you will lend me your attention I shall +endeavour to sing to you of a heart bowed down. + +By the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, her bronze and rose, a +lady’s grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous _eau de Nil_ Mina +to tankards two her pinnacles of gold. + +The harping chords of prelude closed. A chord, longdrawn, expectant, +drew a voice away. + +—_When first I saw that form endearing_... + +Richie turned. + +—Si Dedalus’ voice, he said. + +Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they listened feeling that flow +endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Bloom signed to +Pat, bald Pat is a waiter hard of hearing, to set ajar the door of the +bar. The door of the bar. So. That will do. Pat, waiter, waited, +waiting to hear, for he was hard of hear by the door. + +—_Sorrow from me seemed to depart._ + +Through the hush of air a voice sang to them, low, not rain, not leaves +in murmur, like no voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem +dulcimers touching their still ears with words, still hearts of their +each his remembered lives. Good, good to hear: sorrow from them each +seemed to from both depart when first they heard. When first they saw, +lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard from a person wouldn’t expect +it in the least, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. + +Love that is singing: love’s old sweet song. Bloom unwound slowly the +elastic band of his packet. Love’s old sweet _sonnez la_ gold. Bloom +wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, relaxed, and wound +it round his troubled double, fourfold, in octave, gyved them fast. + +—_Full of hope and all delighted_... + +Tenors get women by the score. Increase their flow. Throw flower at his +feet. When will we meet? My head it simply. Jingle all delighted. He +can’t sing for tall hats. Your head it simply swurls. Perfumed for him. +What perfume does your wife? I want to know. Jing. Stop. Knock. Last +look at mirror always before she answers the door. The hall. There? How +do you? I do well. There? What? Or? Phial of cachous, kissing comfits, +in her satchel. Yes? Hands felt for the opulent. + +Alas the voice rose, sighing, changed: loud, full, shining, proud. + +—_But alas, ’twas idle dreaming_... + +Glorious tone he has still. Cork air softer also their brogue. Silly +man! Could have made oceans of money. Singing wrong words. Wore out his +wife: now sings. But hard to tell. Only the two themselves. If he +doesn’t break down. Keep a trot for the avenue. His hands and feet sing +too. Drink. Nerves overstrung. Must be abstemious to sing. Jenny Lind +soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. For creamy dreamy. + +Tenderness it welled: slow, swelling, full it throbbed. That’s the +chat. Ha, give! Take! Throb, a throb, a pulsing proud erect. + +Words? Music? No: it’s what’s behind. + +Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded. + +Bloom. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music +out, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. Tipping her tepping her +tapping her topping her. Tup. Pores to dilate dilating. Tup. The joy +the feel the warm the. Tup. To pour o’er sluices pouring gushes. Flood, +gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Now! Language of love. + +—... _ray of hope is_... + +Beaming. Lydia for Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse +unsqueaked a ray of hopk. + +_Martha_ it is. Coincidence. Just going to write. Lionel’s song. Lovely +name you have. Can’t write. Accept my little pres. Play on her +heartstrings pursestrings too. She’s a. I called you naughty boy. Still +the name: Martha. How strange! Today. + +The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. It sang again to +Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to +wait. How first he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to part, +how look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, won Pat Bloom’s heart. + +Wish I could see his face, though. Explain better. Why the barber in +Drago’s always looked my face when I spoke his face in the glass. Still +hear it better here than in the bar though farther. + +—_Each graceful look_... + +First night when first I saw her at Mat Dillon’s in Terenure. Yellow, +black lace she wore. Musical chairs. We two the last. Fate. After her. +Fate. Round and round slow. Quick round. We two. All looked. Halt. Down +she sat. All ousted looked. Lips laughing. Yellow knees. + +—_Charmed my eye_... + +Singing. _Waiting_ she sang. I turned her music. Full voice of perfume +of what perfume does your lilactrees. Bosom I saw, both full, throat +warbling. First I saw. She thanked me. Why did she me? Fate. Spanishy +eyes. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in +shadow Dolores shedolores. At me. Luring. Ah, alluring. + +—_Martha! Ah, Martha!_ + +Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cry of passion dominant +to love to return with deepening yet with rising chords of harmony. In +cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, must martha feel. For +only her he waited. Where? Here there try there here all try where. +Somewhere. + +—_Co-ome, thou lost one! + +Co-ome, thou dear one!_ + +Alone. One love. One hope. One comfort me. Martha, chestnote, return! + +_—Come!_ + +It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver +orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don’t spin it out +too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high +resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, +of the etherial bosom, high, of the high vast irradiation everywhere +all soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness... + +—_To me!_ + +Siopold! + +Consumed. + +Come. Well sung. All clapped. She ought to. Come. To me, to him, to +her, you too, me, us. + +—Bravo! Clapclap. Good man, Simon. Clappyclapclap. Encore! Clapclipclap +clap. Sound as a bell. Bravo, Simon! Clapclopclap. Encore, enclap, +said, cried, clapped all, Ben Dollard, Lydia Douce, George Lidwell, +Pat, Mina Kennedy, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, first gent +with tank and bronze Miss Douce and gold Miss Mina. + +Blazes Boylan’s smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor, said before. +Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson, +reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as said before just now. +Atrot, in heat, heatseated. _Cloche. Sonnez la. Cloche. Sonnez la._ +Slower the mare went up the hill by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Too +slow for Boylan, blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare. + +An afterclang of Cowley’s chords closed, died on the air made richer. + +And Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom his cider drank, +Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would partake of two +more tankards if she did not mind. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, +coral lips, at first, at second. She did not mind. + +—Seven days in jail, Ben Dollard said, on bread and water. Then you’d +sing, Simon, like a garden thrush. + +Lionel Simon, singer, laughed. Father Bob Cowley played. Mina Kennedy +served. Second gentleman paid. Tom Kernan strutted in. Lydia, admired, +admired. But Bloom sang dumb. + +Admiring. + +Richie, admiring, descanted on that man’s glorious voice. He remembered +one night long ago. Never forget that night. Si sang _’Twas rank and +fame_: in Ned Lambert’s ’twas. Good God he never heard in all his life +a note like that he never did _then false one we had better part_ so +clear so God he never heard _since love lives not_ a clinking voice +lives not ask Lambert he can tell you too. + +Goulding, a flush struggling in his pale, told Mr Bloom, face of the +night, Si in Ned Lambert’s, Dedalus house, sang _’Twas rank and fame._ + +He, Mr Bloom, listened while he, Richie Goulding, told him, Mr Bloom, +of the night he, Richie, heard him, Si Dedalus, sing _’Twas rank and +fame_ in his, Ned Lambert’s, house. + +Brothers-in-law: relations. We never speak as we pass by. Rift in the +lute I think. Treats him with scorn. See. He admires him all the more. +The night Si sang. The human voice, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, +more than all others. + +That voice was a lamentation. Calmer now. It’s in the silence after you +feel you hear. Vibrations. Now silent air. + +Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack fingers plucked the +slender catgut thong. He drew and plucked. It buzz, it twanged. While +Goulding talked of Barraclough’s voice production, while Tom Kernan, +harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening +Father Cowley, who played a voluntary, who nodded as he played. While +big Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he +smoked, who smoked. + +Thou lost one. All songs on that theme. Yet more Bloom stretched his +string. Cruel it seems. Let people get fond of each other: lure them +on. Then tear asunder. Death. Explos. Knock on the head. +Outtohelloutofthat. Human life. Dignam. Ugh, that rat’s tail wriggling! +Five bob I gave. _Corpus paradisum._ Corncrake croaker: belly like a +poisoned pup. Gone. They sing. Forgotten. I too. And one day she with. +Leave her: get tired. Suffer then. Snivel. Big spanishy eyes goggling +at nothing. Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb:’d. + +Yet too much happy bores. He stretched more, more. Are you not happy in +your? Twang. It snapped. + +Jingle into Dorset street. + +Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased. + +—Don’t make half so free, said she, till we are better acquainted. + +George Lidwell told her really and truly: but she did not believe. + +First gentleman told Mina that was so. She asked him was that so. And +second tankard told her so. That that was so. + +Miss Douce, miss Lydia, did not believe: miss Kennedy, Mina, did not +believe: George Lidwell, no: miss Dou did not: the first, the first: +gent with the tank: believe, no, no: did not, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: +the tank. + +Better write it here. Quills in the postoffice chewed and twisted. + +Bald Pat at a sign drew nigh. A pen and ink. He went. A pad. He went. A +pad to blot. He heard, deaf Pat. + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said, teasing the curling catgut line. It certainly is. +Few lines will do. My present. All that Italian florid music is. Who is +this wrote? Know the name you know better. Take out sheet notepaper, +envelope: unconcerned. It’s so characteristic. + +—Grandest number in the whole opera, Goulding said. + +—It is, Bloom said. + +Numbers it is. All music when you come to think. Two multiplied by two +divided by half is twice one. Vibrations: chords those are. One plus +two plus six is seven. Do anything you like with figures juggling. +Always find out this equal to that. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. He +doesn’t see my mourning. Callous: all for his own gut. Musemathematics. +And you think you’re listening to the etherial. But suppose you said it +like: Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Fall +quite flat. It’s on account of the sounds it is. + +Instance he’s playing now. Improvising. Might be what you like, till +you hear the words. Want to listen sharp. Hard. Begin all right: then +hear chords a bit off: feel lost a bit. In and out of sacks, over +barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. Time makes the tune. +Question of mood you’re in. Still always nice to hear. Except scales up +and down, girls learning. Two together nextdoor neighbours. Ought to +invent dummy pianos for that. _Blumenlied_ I bought for her. The name. +Playing it slow, a girl, night I came home, the girl. Door of the +stables near Cecilia street. Milly no taste. Queer because we both, I +mean. + +Bald deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Pat set with ink pen quite +flat pad. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Pat went. + +It was the only language Mr Dedalus said to Ben. He heard them as a boy +in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles. +Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. Walking, you know, Ben, in +the moonlight with those earthquake hats. Blending their voices. God, +such music, Ben. Heard as a boy. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. + +Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed a +moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, a call from afar, replying. + +Down the edge of his _Freeman_ baton ranged Bloom’s, your other eye, +scanning for where did I see that. Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. +Heigho! Heigho! Fawcett. Aha! Just I was looking... + +Hope he’s not looking, cute as a rat. He held unfurled his _Freeman._ +Can’t see now. Remember write Greek ees. Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: dear +sir. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. Got your lett and flow. Hell did I +put? Some pock or oth. It is utterl imposs. Underline _imposs._ To +write today. + +Bore this. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am just reflecting +fingers on flat pad Pat brought. + +On. Know what I mean. No, change that ee. Accep my poor litt pres +enclos. Ask her no answ. Hold on. Five Dig. Two about here. Penny the +gulls. Elijah is com. Seven Davy Byrne’s. Is eight about. Say half a +crown. My poor little pres: p. o. two and six. Write me a long. Do you +despise? Jingle, have you the? So excited. Why do you call me naught? +You naughty too? O, Mairy lost the string of her. Bye for today. Yes, +yes, will tell you. Want to. To keep it up. Call me that other. Other +world she wrote. My patience are exhaust. To keep it up. You must +believe. Believe. The tank. It. Is. True. + +Folly am I writing? Husbands don’t. That’s marriage does, their wives. +Because I’m away from. Suppose. But how? She must. Keep young. If she +found out. Card in my high grade ha. No, not tell all. Useless pain. If +they don’t see. Woman. Sauce for the gander. + +A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James +of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare, a young +gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George +Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and wearing +a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Great +Brunswick street, hatter. Eh? This is the jingle that joggled and +jingled. By Dlugacz’ porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a +gallantbuttocked mare. + +—Answering an ad? keen Richie’s eyes asked Bloom. + +—Yes, Mr Bloom said. Town traveller. Nothing doing, I expect. + +Bloom mur: best references. But Henry wrote: it will excite me. You +know how. In haste. Henry. Greek ee. Better add postscript. What is he +playing now? Improvising. Intermezzo. P. S. The rum tum tum. How will +you pun? You punish me? Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. Tell me I +want to. Know. O. Course if I didn’t I wouldn’t ask. La la la ree. +Trails off there sad in minor. Why minor sad? Sign H. They like sad +tail at end. P. P. S. La la la ree. I feel so sad today. La ree. So +lonely. Dee. + +He blotted quick on pad of Pat. Envel. Address. Just copy out of paper. +Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Henry wrote: + +Miss Martha Clifford + c/o P. O. + Dolphin’s Barn Lane + Dublin. + +Blot over the other so he can’t read. There. Right. Idea prize titbit. +Something detective read off blottingpad. Payment at the rate of guinea +per col. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Poor Mrs Purefoy. U. +P: up. + +Too poetical that about the sad. Music did that. Music hath charms. +Shakespeare said. Quotations every day in the year. To be or not to be. +Wisdom while you wait. + +In Gerard’s rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn. One life is +all. One body. Do. But do. + +Done anyhow. Postal order, stamp. Postoffice lower down. Walk now. +Enough. Barney Kiernan’s I promised to meet them. Dislike that job. +House of mourning. Walk. Pat! Doesn’t hear. Deaf beetle he is. + +Car near there now. Talk. Talk. Pat! Doesn’t. Settling those napkins. +Lot of ground he must cover in the day. Paint face behind on him then +he’d be two. Wish they’d sing more. Keep my mind off. + +Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Pat is a waiter hard of +his hearing. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. Hee hee hee hee. +He waits while you wait. Hee hee. A waiter is he. Hee hee hee hee. He +waits while you wait. While you wait if you wait he will wait while you +wait. Hee hee hee hee. Hoh. Wait while you wait. + +Douce now. Douce Lydia. Bronze and rose. + +She had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. And look at the lovely shell +she brought. + +To the end of the bar to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding +seahorn that he, George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear. + +—Listen! she bade him. + +Under Tom Kernan’s ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. +Authentic fact. How Walter Bapty lost his voice. Well, sir, the husband +took him by the throat. _Scoundrel,_ said he, _You’ll sing no more +lovesongs._ He did, faith, sir Tom. Bob Cowley wove. Tenors get wom. +Cowley lay back. + +Ah, now he heard, she holding it to his ear. Hear! He heard. Wonderful. +She held it to her own. And through the sifted light pale gold in +contrast glided. To hear. + +Tap. + +Bloom through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. He heard more +faintly that that they heard, each for herself alone, then each for +other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, a silent roar. + +Bronze by a weary gold, anear, afar, they listened. + +Her ear too is a shell, the peeping lobe there. Been to the seaside. +Lovely seaside girls. Skin tanned raw. Should have put on coldcream +first make it brown. Buttered toast. O and that lotion mustn’t forget. +Fever near her mouth. Your head it simply. Hair braided over: shell +with seaweed. Why do they hide their ears with seaweed hair? And Turks +the mouth, why? Her eyes over the sheet. Yashmak. Find the way in. A +cave. No admittance except on business. + +The sea they think they hear. Singing. A roar. The blood it is. Souse +in the ear sometimes. Well, it’s a sea. Corpuscle islands. + +Wonderful really. So distinct. Again. George Lidwell held its murmur, +hearing: then laid it by, gently. + +—What are the wild waves saying? he asked her, smiled. + +Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. + +Tap. + +By Larry O’Rourke’s, by Larry, bold Larry O’, Boylan swayed and Boylan +turned. + +From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her tankards waiting. No, +she was not so lonely archly miss Douce’s head let Mr Lidwell know. +Walks in the moonlight by the sea. No, not alone. With whom? She nobly +answered: with a gentleman friend. + +Bob Cowley’s twinkling fingers in the treble played again. The landlord +has the prior. A little time. Long John. Big Ben. Lightly he played a +light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, +and for their gallants, gentlemen friends. One: one, one, one, one, +one: two, one, three, four. + +Sea, wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the cattlemarket, +cocks, hens don’t crow, snakes hissss. There’s music everywhere. +Ruttledge’s door: ee creaking. No, that’s noise. Minuet of _Don +Giovanni_ he’s playing now. Court dresses of all descriptions in castle +chambers dancing. Misery. Peasants outside. Green starving faces eating +dockleaves. Nice that is. Look: look, look, look, look, look: you look +at us. + +That’s joyful I can feel. Never have written it. Why? My joy is other +joy. But both are joys. Yes, joy it must be. Mere fact of music shows +you are. Often thought she was in the dumps till she began to lilt. +Then know. + +M’Coy valise. My wife and your wife. Squealing cat. Like tearing silk. +Tongue when she talks like the clapper of a bellows. They can’t manage +men’s intervals. Gap in their voices too. Fill me. I’m warm, dark, +open. Molly in _quis est homo_: Mercadante. My ear against the wall to +hear. Want a woman who can deliver the goods. + +Jog jig jogged stopped. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue +clocks came light to earth. + +O, look we are so! Chamber music. Could make a kind of pun on that. It +is a kind of music I often thought when she. Acoustics that is. +Tinkling. Empty vessels make most noise. Because the acoustics, the +resonance changes according as the weight of the water is equal to the +law of falling water. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt’s, Hungarian, +gipsyeyed. Pearls. Drops. Rain. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. +Hissss. Now. Maybe now. Before. + +One rapped on a door, one tapped with a knock, did he knock Paul de +Kock with a loud proud knocker with a cock carracarracarra cock. +Cockcock. + +Tap. + +—_Qui sdegno,_ Ben, said Father Cowley. + +—No, Ben, Tom Kernan interfered. _The Croppy Boy._ Our native Doric. + +—Ay do, Ben, Mr Dedalus said. Good men and true. + +—Do, do, they begged in one. + +I’ll go. Here, Pat, return. Come. He came, he came, he did not stay. To +me. How much? + +—What key? Six sharps? + +—F sharp major, Ben Dollard said. + +Bob Cowley’s outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. + +Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. No, Richie said. Yes, must. +Got money somewhere. He’s on for a razzle backache spree. Much? He +seehears lipspeech. One and nine. Penny for yourself. Here. Give him +twopence tip. Deaf, bothered. But perhaps he has wife and family +waiting, waiting Patty come home. Hee hee hee hee. Deaf wait while they +wait. + +But wait. But hear. Chords dark. Lugugugubrious. Low. In a cave of the +dark middle earth. Embedded ore. Lumpmusic. + +The voice of dark age, of unlove, earth’s fatigue made grave approach +and painful, come from afar, from hoary mountains, called on good men +and true. The priest he sought. With him would he speak a word. + +Tap. + +Ben Dollard’s voice. Base barreltone. Doing his level best to say it. +Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Other comedown. Big +ships’ chandler’s business he did once. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships’ +lanterns. Failed to the tune of ten thousand pounds. Now in the Iveagh +home. Cubicle number so and so. Number one Bass did that for him. + +The priest’s at home. A false priest’s servant bade him welcome. Step +in. The holy father. With bows a traitor servant. Curlycues of chords. + +Ruin them. Wreck their lives. Then build them cubicles to end their +days in. Hushaby. Lullaby. Die, dog. Little dog, die. + +The voice of warning, solemn warning, told them the youth had entered a +lonely hall, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told them +the gloomy chamber, the vested priest sitting to shrive. + +Decent soul. Bit addled now. Thinks he’ll win in _Answers_, poets’ +picture puzzle. We hand you crisp five pound note. Bird sitting +hatching in a nest. Lay of the last minstrel he thought it was. See +blank tee what domestic animal? Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. +Good voice he has still. No eunuch yet with all his belongings. + +Listen. Bloom listened. Richie Goulding listened. And by the door deaf +Pat, bald Pat, tipped Pat, listened. + +The chords harped slower. + +The voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. +Ben’s contrite beard confessed. _in nomine Domini,_ in God’s name he +knelt. He beat his hand upon his breast, confessing: _mea culpa._ + +Latin again. That holds them like birdlime. Priest with the communion +corpus for those women. Chap in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, +_corpusnomine._ Wonder where that rat is by now. Scrape. + +Tap. + +They listened. Tankards and miss Kennedy. George Lidwell, eyelid well +expressive, fullbusted satin. Kernan. Si. + +The sighing voice of sorrow sang. His sins. Since Easter he had cursed +three times. You bitch’s bast. And once at masstime he had gone to +play. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for his mother’s rest he +had not prayed. A boy. A croppy boy. + +Bronze, listening, by the beerpull gazed far away. Soulfully. Doesn’t +half know I’m. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. + +Bronze gazed far sideways. Mirror there. Is that best side of her face? +They always know. Knock at the door. Last tip to titivate. + +Cockcarracarra. + +What do they think when they hear music? Way to catch rattlesnakes. +Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tuning up. Shah of Persia liked +that best. Remind him of home sweet home. Wiped his nose in curtain +too. Custom his country perhaps. That’s music too. Not as bad as it +sounds. Tootling. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Doublebasses +helpless, gashes in their sides. Woodwinds mooing cows. Semigrand open +crocodile music hath jaws. Woodwind like Goodwin’s name. + +She looked fine. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show. +Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. +Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa’s. Hypnotised, +listening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle staring down +into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty of music you +must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the country man the +tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks! + +All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at Gorey all his +brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Last +of his name and race. + +I too. Last of my race. Milly young student. Well, my fault perhaps. No +son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still? + +He bore no hate. + +Hate. Love. Those are names. Rudy. Soon I am old. + +Big Ben his voice unfolded. Great voice Richie Goulding said, a flush +struggling in his pale, to Bloom soon old. But when was young? + +Ireland comes now. My country above the king. She listens. Who fears to +speak of nineteen four? Time to be shoving. Looked enough. + +—_Bless me, father,_ Dollard the croppy cried. _Bless me and let me +go._ + +Tap. + +Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. +Fellows shell out the dibs. Want to keep your weathereye open. Those +girls, those lovely. By the sad sea waves. Chorusgirl’s romance. +Letters read out for breach of promise. From Chickabiddy’s owny +Mumpsypum. Laughter in court. Henry. I never signed it. The lovely name +you. + +Low sank the music, air and words. Then hastened. The false priest +rustling soldier from his cassock. A yeoman captain. They know it all +by heart. The thrill they itch for. Yeoman cap. + +Tap. Tap. + +Thrilled she listened, bending in sympathy to hear. + +Blank face. Virgin should say: or fingered only. Write something on it: +page. If not what becomes of them? Decline, despair. Keeps them young. +Even admire themselves. See. Play on her. Lip blow. Body of white +woman, a flute alive. Blow gentle. Loud. Three holes, all women. +Goddess I didn’t see. They want it. Not too much polite. That’s why he +gets them. Gold in your pocket, brass in your face. Say something. Make +her hear. With look to look. Songs without words. Molly, that +hurdygurdy boy. She knew he meant the monkey was sick. Or because so +like the Spanish. Understand animals too that way. Solomon did. Gift of +nature. + +Ventriloquise. My lips closed. Think in my stom. What? + +Will? You? I. Want. You. To. + +With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic bitch’s +bastard. A good thought, boy, to come. One hour’s your time to live, +your last. + +Tap. Tap. + +Thrill now. Pity they feel. To wipe away a tear for martyrs that want +to, dying to, die. For all things dying, for all things born. Poor Mrs +Purefoy. Hope she’s over. Because their wombs. + +A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, +calmly, hearing. See real beauty of the eye when she not speaks. On +yonder river. At each slow satiny heaving bosom’s wave (her heaving +embon) red rose rose slowly sank red rose. Heartbeats: her breath: +breath that is life. And all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of +maidenhair. + +But look. The bright stars fade. O rose! Castile. The morn. Ha. +Lidwell. For him then not for. Infatuated. I like that? See her from +here though. Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. + +On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, lightly, plumply, leave +it to my hands. All lost in pity for croppy. Fro, to: to, fro: over the +polished knob (she knows his eyes, my eyes, her eyes) her thumb and +finger passed in pity: passed, reposed and, gently touching, then slid +so smoothly, slowly down, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding +through their sliding ring. + +With a cock with a carra. + +Tap. Tap. Tap. + +I hold this house. Amen. He gnashed in fury. Traitors swing. + +The chords consented. Very sad thing. But had to be. + +Get out before the end. Thanks, that was heavenly. Where’s my hat. Pass +by her. Can leave that _Freeman_. Letter I have. Suppose she were the? +No. Walk, walk, walk. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice +Tisntdall Farrell. Waaaaaaalk. + +Well, I must be. Are you off? Yrfmstbyes. Blmstup. O’er ryehigh blue. +Ow. Bloom stood up. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Must have +sweated: music. That lotion, remember. Well, so long. High grade. Card +inside. Yes. + +By deaf Pat in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. + +At Geneva barrack that young man died. At Passage was his body laid. +Dolor! O, he dolores! The voice of the mournful chanter called to +dolorous prayer. + +By rose, by satiny bosom, by the fondling hand, by slops, by empties, +by popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and maidenhair, bronze +and faint gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, soft Bloom, I feel so +lonely Bloom. + +Tap. Tap. Tap. + +Pray for him, prayed the bass of Dollard. You who hear in peace. +Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good men, good people. He was the croppy +boy. + +Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in the Ormond hallway +heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all +treading, boots not the boots the boy. General chorus off for a swill +to wash it down. Glad I avoided. + +—Come on, Ben, Simon Dedalus cried. By God, you’re as good as ever you +were. + +—Better, said Tomgin Kernan. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad, +upon my soul and honour it is. + +—Lablache, said Father Cowley. + +Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar, mightily praisefed and +all big roseate, on heavyfooted feet, his gouty fingers nakkering +castagnettes in the air. + +Big Benaben Dollard. Big Benben. Big Benben. + +Rrr. + +And deepmoved all, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all +laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard, in right good cheer. + +—You’re looking rubicund, George Lidwell said. + +Miss Douce composed her rose to wait. + +—Ben machree, said Mr Dedalus, clapping Ben’s fat back shoulderblade. +Fit as a fiddle only he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his +person. + +Rrrrrrrsss. + +—Fat of death, Simon, Ben Dollard growled. + +Richie rift in the lute alone sat: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Uncertainly +he waited. Unpaid Pat too. + +Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. + +Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one. + +—Mr Dollard, they murmured low. + +—Dollard, murmured tankard. + +Tank one believed: miss Kenn when she: that doll he was: she doll: the +tank. + +He murmured that he knew the name. The name was familiar to him, that +is to say. That was to say he had heard the name of. Dollard, was it? +Dollard, yes. + +Yes, her lips said more loudly, Mr Dollard. He sang that song lovely, +murmured Mina. Mr Dollard. And _The last rose of summer_ was a lovely +song. Mina loved that song. Tankard loved the song that Mina. + +’Tis the last rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round +inside. + +Gassy thing that cider: binding too. Wait. Postoffice near Reuben J’s +one and eightpence too. Get shut of it. Dodge round by Greek street. +Wish I hadn’t promised to meet. Freer in air. Music. Gets on your +nerves. Beerpull. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the. Ben Howth. +That rules the world. + +Far. Far. Far. Far. + +Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. + +Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, +with sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses went +Poldy on. + +Tap blind walked tapping by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. + +Cowley, he stuns himself with it: kind of drunkenness. Better give way +only half way the way of a man with a maid. Instance enthusiasts. All +ears. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Eyes shut. Head nodding in time. +Dotty. You daren’t budge. Thinking strictly prohibited. Always talking +shop. Fiddlefaddle about notes. + +All a kind of attempt to talk. Unpleasant when it stops because you +never know exac. Organ in Gardiner street. Old Glynn fifty quid a year. +Queer up there in the cockloft, alone, with stops and locks and keys. +Seated all day at the organ. Maunder on for hours, talking to himself +or the other fellow blowing the bellows. Growl angry, then shriek +cursing (want to have wadding or something in his no don’t she cried), +then all of a soft sudden wee little wee little pipy wind. + +Pwee! A wee little wind piped eeee. In Bloom’s little wee. + +—Was he? Mr Dedalus said, returning with fetched pipe. I was with him +this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam’s... + +—Ay, the Lord have mercy on him. + +—By the bye there’s a tuningfork in there on the... + +Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. + +—The wife has a fine voice. Or had. What? Lidwell asked. + +—O, that must be the tuner, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw, +forgot it when he was here. + +Blind he was she told George Lidwell second I saw. And played so +exquisitely, treat to hear. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. + +—Shout! Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. Sing out! + +—’lldo! cried Father Cowley. + +Rrrrrr. + +I feel I want... + +Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap + +—Very, Mr Dedalus said, staring hard at a headless sardine. + +Under the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last, one lonely, +last sardine of summer. Bloom alone. + +—Very, he stared. The lower register, for choice. + +Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. + +Bloom went by Barry’s. Wish I could. Wait. That wonderworker if I had. +Twentyfour solicitors in that one house. Counted them. Litigation. Love +one another. Piles of parchment. Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of +attorney. Goulding, Collis, Ward. + +But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. His vocation: +Mickey Rooney’s band. Wonder how it first struck him. Sitting at home +after pig’s cheek and cabbage nursing it in the armchair. Rehearsing +his band part. Pom. Pompedy. Jolly for the wife. Asses’ skins. Welt +them through life, then wallop after death. Pom. Wallop. Seems to be +what you call yashmak or I mean kismet. Fate. + +Tap. Tap. A stripling, blind, with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by +Daly’s window where a mermaid hair all streaming (but he couldn’t see) +blew whiffs of a mermaid (blind couldn’t), mermaid, coolest whiff of +all. + +Instruments. A blade of grass, shell of her hands, then blow. Even comb +and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of. Molly in her shift in +Lombard street west, hair down. I suppose each kind of trade made its +own, don’t you see? Hunter with a horn. Haw. Have you the? _Cloche. +Sonnez la._ Shepherd his pipe. Pwee little wee. Policeman a whistle. +Locks and keys! Sweep! Four o’clock’s all’s well! Sleep! All is lost +now. Drum? Pompedy. Wait. I know. Towncrier, bumbailiff. Long John. +Waken the dead. Pom. Dignam. Poor little _nominedomine._ Pom. It is +music. I mean of course it’s all pom pom pom very much what they call +_da capo._ Still you can hear. As we march, we march along, march +along. Pom. + +I must really. Fff. Now if I did that at a banquet. Just a question of +custom shah of Persia. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear. All the same he +must have been a bit of a natural not to see it was a yeoman cap. +Muffled up. Wonder who was that chap at the grave in the brown macin. +O, the whore of the lane! + +A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the +day along the quay towards Mr Bloom. When first he saw that form +endearing? Yes, it is. I feel so lonely. Wet night in the lane. Horn. +Who had the? Heehaw shesaw. Off her beat here. What is she? Hope she. +Psst! Any chance of your wash. Knew Molly. Had me decked. Stout lady +does be with you in the brown costume. Put you off your stroke, that. +Appointment we made knowing we’d never, well hardly ever. Too dear too +near to home sweet home. Sees me, does she? Looks a fright in the day. +Face like dip. Damn her. O, well, she has to live like the rest. Look +in here. + +In Lionel Marks’s antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold +dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered +candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Bargain: six bob. Might +learn to play. Cheap. Let her pass. Course everything is dear if you +don’t want it. That’s what good salesman is. Make you buy what he wants +to sell. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. Wanted to +charge me for the edge he gave it. She’s passing now. Six bob. + +Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund. + +Near bronze from anear near gold from afar they chinked their clinking +glasses all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia’s tempting +last rose of summer, rose of Castile. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a +fifth: Lidwell, Si Dedalus, Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard. + +Tap. A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall. + +Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks’s window. Robert +Emmet’s last words. Seven last words. Of Meyerbeer that is. + +—True men like you men. + +—Ay, ay, Ben. + +—Will lift your glass with us. + +They lifted. + +Tschink. Tschunk. + +Tip. An unseeing stripling stood in the door. He saw not bronze. He saw +not gold. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor +Richie nor Pat. Hee hee hee hee. He did not see. + +Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Softly. _When my country +takes her place among._ + +Prrprr. + +Must be the bur. + +Fff! Oo. Rrpr. + +_Nations of the earth._ No-one behind. She’s passed. _Then and not till +then._ Tram kran kran kran. Good oppor. Coming. Krandlkrankran. I’m +sure it’s the burgund. Yes. One, two. _Let my epitaph be._ Kraaaaaa. +_Written. I have._ + +Pprrpffrrppffff. + +_Done._ + + +[ 12 ] + +I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P. at the +corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along +and he near drove his gear into my eye. I turned around to let him have +the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony +Batter only Joe Hynes. + +—Lo, Joe, says I. How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody +chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush? + +—Soot’s luck, says Joe. Who’s the old ballocks you were talking to? + +—Old Troy, says I, was in the force. I’m on two minds not to give that +fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and +ladders. + +—What are you doing round those parts? says Joe. + +—Devil a much, says I. There’s a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the +garrison church at the corner of Chicken lane—old Troy was just giving +me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God’s quantity of tea and sugar to +pay three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a +hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury +street. + +—Circumcised? says Joe. + +—Ay, says I. A bit off the top. An old plumber named Geraghty. I’m +hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can’t get a +penny out of him. + +—That the lay you’re on now? says Joe. + +—Ay, says I. How are the mighty fallen! Collector of bad and doubtful +debts. But that’s the most notorious bloody robber you’d meet in a +day’s walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of +rain. _Tell him,_ says he, _I dare him,_ says he, _and I doubledare him +to send you round here again or if he does,_ says he, _I’ll have him +summonsed up before the court, so I will, for trading without a +licence._ And he after stuffing himself till he’s fit to burst. Jesus, +I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. _He drink me +my teas. He eat me my sugars. Because he no pay me my moneys?_ + +For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin’s +parade in the city of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter +called the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E. Geraghty, +esquire, of 29 Arbour hill in the city of Dublin, Arran quay ward, +gentleman, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds +avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per +pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed +crystal, at threepence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser debtor +to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling +for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to said +vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three +shillings and no pence sterling: and the said nonperishable goods shall +not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said +purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the sole and +exclusive property of the said vendor to be disposed of at his good +will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by +the said purchaser to the said vendor in the manner herein set forth as +this day hereby agreed between the said vendor, his heirs, successors, +trustees and assigns of the one part and the said purchaser, his heirs, +successors, trustees and assigns of the other part. + +—Are you a strict t.t.? says Joe. + +—Not taking anything between drinks, says I. + +—What about paying our respects to our friend? says Joe. + +—Who? says I. Sure, he’s out in John of God’s off his head, poor man. + +—Drinking his own stuff? says Joe. + +—Ay, says I. Whisky and water on the brain. + +—Come around to Barney Kiernan’s, says Joe. I want to see the citizen. + +—Barney mavourneen’s be it, says I. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe? + +—Not a word, says Joe. I was up at that meeting in the City Arms. + +—What was that, Joe? says I. + +—Cattle traders, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease. I want to +give the citizen the hard word about it. + +So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the +courthouse talking of one thing or another. Decent fellow Joe when he +has it but sure like that he never has it. Jesus, I couldn’t get over +that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber. For trading without a +licence, says he. + +In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of holy Michan. There +rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. There sleep the mighty dead as +in life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown. A pleasant +land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport +the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, +the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed +coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too +numerous to be enumerated. In the mild breezes of the west and of the +east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass +foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted +planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal +world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied. Lovely +maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing +the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of lovely objects +as for example golden ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts +of eels, codlings, creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful +insects. And heroes voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to +Slievemargy, the peerless princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht +the just and of smooth sleek Leinster and of Cruachan’s land and of +Armagh the splendid and of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the +sons of kings. + +And there rises a shining palace whose crystal glittering roof is seen +by mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for +that purpose, and thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits +of that land for O’Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of them, a chieftain +descended from chieftains. Thither the extremely large wains bring +foison of the fields, flaskets of cauliflowers, floats of spinach, +pineapple chunks, Rangoon beans, strikes of tomatoes, drums of figs, +drills of Swedes, spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale, +York and Savoy, and trays of onions, pearls of the earth, and punnets +of mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and +red green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples +and chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and +pelurious, and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their +canes. + +I dare him, says he, and I doubledare him. Come out here, Geraghty, you +notorious bloody hill and dale robber! + +And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed +ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium steers +and roaring mares and polled calves and longwools and storesheep and +Cuffe’s prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the +various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus +heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime +premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling, +cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting, +champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from +pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy +vales of Thomond, from the M’Gillicuddy’s reeks the inaccessible and +lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the +place of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance +of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer’s firkins +and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great +hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun. + +So we turned into Barney Kiernan’s and there, sure enough, was the +citizen up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that +bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he waiting for what the sky would +drop in the way of drink. + +—There he is, says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his +load of papers, working for the cause. + +The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him would give you the creeps. +Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that +bloody dog. I’m told for a fact he ate a good part of the breeches off +a constabulary man in Santry that came round one time with a blue paper +about a licence. + +—Stand and deliver, says he. + +—That’s all right, citizen, says Joe. Friends here. + +—Pass, friends, says he. + +Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he: + +—What’s your opinion of the times? + +Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. But, begob, Joe was equal to +the occasion. + +—I think the markets are on a rise, says he, sliding his hand down his +fork. + +So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says: + +—Foreign wars is the cause of it. + +And says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket: + +—It’s the Russians wish to tyrannise. + +—Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I. I’ve a thirst on me +I wouldn’t sell for half a crown. + +—Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. + +—Wine of the country, says he. + +—What’s yours? says Joe. + +—Ditto MacAnaspey, says I. + +—Three pints, Terry, says Joe. And how’s the old heart, citizen? says +he. + +—Never better, _a chara_, says he. What Garry? Are we going to win? Eh? + +And with that he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck +and, by Jesus, he near throttled him. + +The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower was +that of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired +freelyfreckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed longheaded +deepvoiced barekneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced sinewyarmed +hero. From shoulder to shoulder he measured several ells and his +rocklike mountainous knees were covered, as was likewise the rest of +his body wherever visible, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair +in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse (_Ulex Europeus_). +The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue +projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous +obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. The eyes in +which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the +dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. A powerful current of warm +breath issued at regular intervals from the profound cavity of his +mouth while in rhythmic resonance the loud strong hale reverberations +of his formidable heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the +summit of the lofty tower and the still loftier walls of the cave to +vibrate and tremble. + +He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching to +the knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by a +girdle of plaited straw and rushes. Beneath this he wore trews of +deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. His nether extremities were +encased in high Balbriggan buskins dyed in lichen purple, the feet +being shod with brogues of salted cowhide laced with the windpipe of +the same beast. From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled +at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with +rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and +heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine +hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane +O’Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh +O’Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O’Growney, Michael +Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M’Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, +Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain +Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. +Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, +the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of +Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte +Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn’t, Benjamin Franklin, +Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, +Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, +Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the +Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian +Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan +and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold +Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen +Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben +Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss +Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, +The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky +Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa, Don +Philip O’Sullivan Beare. A couched spear of acuminated granite rested +by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe +whose stertorous gasps announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a +supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which +his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a +mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone. + +So anyhow Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob the +sight nearly left my eyes when I saw him land out a quid. O, as true as +I’m telling you. A goodlooking sovereign. + +—And there’s more where that came from, says he. + +—Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe? says I. + +—Sweat of my brow, says Joe. ’Twas the prudent member gave me the +wheeze. + +—I saw him before I met you, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and +Greek street with his cod’s eye counting up all the guts of the fish. + +Who comes through Michan’s land, bedight in sable armour? O’Bloom, the +son of Rory: it is he. Impervious to fear is Rory’s son: he of the +prudent soul. + +—For the old woman of Prince’s street, says the citizen, the subsidised +organ. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. And look at +this blasted rag, says he. Look at this, says he. _The Irish +Independent,_ if you please, founded by Parnell to be the workingman’s +friend. Listen to the births and deaths in the _Irish all for Ireland +Independent,_ and I’ll thank you and the marriages. + +And he starts reading them out: + +—Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne’s +on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. How’s that, eh? Wright +and Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the +late George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell, Playwood and +Ridsdale at Saint Jude’s, Kensington by the very reverend Dr Forrest, +dean of Worcester. Eh? Deaths. Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: +Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the +Moat house, Chepstow... + +—I know that fellow, says Joe, from bitter experience. + +—Cockburn. Dimsey, wife of David Dimsey, late of the admiralty: Miller, +Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, +Liverpool, Isabella Helen. How’s that for a national press, eh, my +brown son! How’s that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber? + +—Ah, well, says Joe, handing round the boose. Thanks be to God they had +the start of us. Drink that, citizen. + +—I will, says he, honourable person. + +—Health, Joe, says I. And all down the form. + +Ah! Ow! Don’t be talking! I was blue mouldy for the want of that pint. +Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. + +And lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came +swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely youth and behind him +there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred +scrolls of law and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage, +fairest of her race. + +Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door and hid behind Barney’s +snug, squeezed up with the laughing. And who was sitting up there in +the corner that I hadn’t seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob +Doran. I didn’t know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the +door. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen +in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter +and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting +like a poodle. I thought Alf would split. + +—Look at him, says he. Breen. He’s traipsing all round Dublin with a +postcard someone sent him with U. p: up on it to take a li... + +And he doubled up. + +—Take a what? says I. + +—Libel action, says he, for ten thousand pounds. + +—O hell! says I. + +The bloody mongrel began to growl that’d put the fear of God in you +seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs. + +_—Bi i dho husht,_ says he. + +—Who? says Joe. + +—Breen, says Alf. He was in John Henry Menton’s and then he went round +to Collis and Ward’s and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round +to the subsheriff’s for a lark. O God, I’ve a pain laughing. U. p: up. +The long fellow gave him an eye as good as a process and now the bloody +old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man. + +—When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? says Joe. + +—Bergan, says Bob Doran, waking up. Is that Alf Bergan? + +—Yes, says Alf. Hanging? Wait till I show you. Here, Terry, give us a +pony. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. You should have seen +long John’s eye. U. p .... + +And he started laughing. + +—Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran. Is that Bergan? + +—Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf. + +Terence O’Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup full +of the foamy ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and +Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of +deathless Leda. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and +mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour +juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day +from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat. + +Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to the manner born, +that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that +thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals. + +But he, the young chief of the O’Bergan’s, could ill brook to be +outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a +testoon of costliest bronze. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork +was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of +Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of +God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the +British dominions beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress +of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the +wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun to +the going down thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop. + +—What’s that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, prowling up and +down outside? + +—What’s that? says Joe. + +—Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Talking about hanging, +I’ll show you something you never saw. Hangmen’s letters. Look at here. + +So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his +pocket. + +—Are you codding? says I. + +—Honest injun, says Alf. Read them. + +So Joe took up the letters. + +—Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran. + +So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust. Bob’s a queer chap when +the porter’s up in him so says I just to make talk: + +—How’s Willy Murray those times, Alf? + +—I don’t know, says Alf. I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy +Dignam. Only I was running after that... + +—You what? says Joe, throwing down the letters. With who? + +—With Dignam, says Alf. + +—Is it Paddy? says Joe. + +—Yes, says Alf. Why? + +—Don’t you know he’s dead? says Joe. + +—Paddy Dignam dead! says Alf. + +—Ay, says Joe. + +—Sure I’m after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, as plain as +a pikestaff. + +—Who’s dead? says Bob Doran. + +—You saw his ghost then, says Joe, God between us and harm. + +—What? says Alf. Good Christ, only five... What?... And Willy Murray +with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim’s... What? Dignam +dead? + +—What about Dignam? says Bob Doran. Who’s talking about...? + +—Dead! says Alf. He’s no more dead than you are. + +—Maybe so, says Joe. They took the liberty of burying him this morning +anyhow. + +—Paddy? says Alf. + +—Ay, says Joe. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him. + +—Good Christ! says Alf. + +Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted. + +In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by +tantras had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing +luminosity of ruby light became gradually visible, the apparition of +the etheric double being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge +of jivic rays from the crown of the head and face. Communication was +effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the +orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar +plexus. Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the +heavenworld he stated that he was now on the path of prālāyā or return +but was still submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty +entities on the lower astral levels. In reply to a question as to his +first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that previously +he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had +summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. +Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the +flesh he stated that he had heard from more favoured beings now in the +spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort +such as tālāfānā, ālāvātār, hātākāldā, wātāklāsāt and that the highest +adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. +Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently +afforded relief. Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted +all who were still at the wrong side of Māyā to acknowledge the true +path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were +out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power. It was +then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the +defunct and the reply was: _We greet you, friends of earth, who are +still in the body. Mind C. K. doesn’t pile it on._ It was ascertained +that the reference was to Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H. +J. O’Neill’s popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the +defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the interment +arrangements. Before departing he requested that it should be told to +his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for +was at present under the commode in the return room and that the pair +should be sent to Cullen’s to be soled only as the heels were still +good. He stated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in +the other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made +known. + +Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was +intimated that this had given satisfaction. + +He is gone from mortal haunts: O’Dignam, sun of our morning. Fleet was +his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Wail, Banba, with +your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind. + +—There he is again, says the citizen, staring out. + +—Who? says I. + +—Bloom, says he. He’s on point duty up and down there for the last ten +minutes. + +And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again. + +Little Alf was knocked bawways. Faith, he was. + +—Good Christ! says he. I could have sworn it was him. + +And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest +blackguard in Dublin when he’s under the influence: + +—Who said Christ is good? + +—I beg your parsnips, says Alf. + +—Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy +Dignam? + +—Ah, well, says Alf, trying to pass it off. He’s over all his troubles. + +But Bob Doran shouts out of him. + +—He’s a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy Dignam. + +Terry came down and tipped him the wink to keep quiet, that they didn’t +want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises. And Bob +Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you’re there. + +—The finest man, says he, snivelling, the finest purest character. + +The tear is bloody near your eye. Talking through his bloody hat. +Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, +Mooney, the bumbailiff’s daughter, mother kept a kip in Hardwicke +street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told +me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on +her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. + +—The noblest, the truest, says he. And he’s gone, poor little Willy, +poor little Paddy Dignam. + +And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that +beam of heaven. + +Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round +the door. + +—Come in, come on, he won’t eat you, says the citizen. + +So Bloom slopes in with his cod’s eye on the dog and he asks Terry was +Martin Cunningham there. + +—O, Christ M’Keown, says Joe, reading one of the letters. Listen to +this, will you? + +And he starts reading out one. + +_7 Hunter Street, +Liverpool._ + + +_To the High Sheriff of Dublin, + Dublin._ + + +_Honoured sir i beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful +case i hanged Joe Gann in Bootle jail on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and i +hanged..._ + +—Show us, Joe, says I. + +—_... private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in +Pentonville prison and i was assistant when..._ + +—Jesus, says I. + +—_... Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith..._ + +The citizen made a grab at the letter. + +—Hold hard, says Joe, _i have a special nack of putting the noose once +in he can’t get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my +terms is five ginnees._ + +_H. Rumbold, + Master Barber._ + + +—And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen. + +—And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. Here, says he, take them +to hell out of my sight, Alf. Hello, Bloom, says he, what will you +have? + +So they started arguing about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn’t and +he couldn’t and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he said +well he’d just take a cigar. Gob, he’s a prudent member and no mistake. + +—Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe. + +And Alf was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with +a black border round it. + +—They’re all barbers, says he, from the black country that would hang +their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. + +And he was telling us there’s two fellows waiting below to pull his +heels down when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they +chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob a skull. + +In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. Their +deadly coil they grasp: yea, and therein they lead to Erebus whatsoever +wight hath done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so +saith the Lord. + +So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom +comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the codology of the +business and the old dog smelling him all the time I’m told those +jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about +I don’t know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. + +—There’s one thing it hasn’t a deterrent effect on, says Alf. + +—What’s that? says Joe. + +—The poor bugger’s tool that’s being hanged, says Alf. + +—That so? says Joe. + +—God’s truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in +Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible. He told me when +they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like +a poker. + +—Ruling passion strong in death, says Joe, as someone said. + +—That can be explained by science, says Bloom. It’s only a natural +phenomenon, don’t you see, because on account of the... + +And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science +and this phenomenon and the other phenomenon. + +The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft tendered +medical evidence to the effect that the instantaneous fracture of the +cervical vertebrae and consequent scission of the spinal cord would, +according to the best approved tradition of medical science, be +calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent +ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus, +thereby causing the elastic pores of the _corpora cavernosa_ to rapidly +dilate in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood +to that part of the human anatomy known as the penis or male organ +resulting in the phenomenon which has been denominated by the faculty a +morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection _in articulo +mortis per diminutionem capitis._ + +So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word and +he starts gassing out of him about the invincibles and the old guard +and the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe +with him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported +for the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, +that and the other. Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a +new dog so he ought. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all +round the place and scratching his scabs. And round he goes to Bob +Doran that was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could +get. So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him: + +—Give us the paw! Give the paw, doggy! Good old doggy! Give the paw +here! Give us the paw! + +Arrah, bloody end to the paw he’d paw and Alf trying to keep him from +tumbling off the bloody stool atop of the bloody old dog and he talking +all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and +intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip. Then he starts scraping a few +bits of old biscuit out of the bottom of a Jacobs’ tin he told Terry to +bring. Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging +out of him a yard long for more. Near ate the tin and all, hungry +bloody mongrel. + +And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the +brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet +and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and +she’s far from the land. And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown +cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Phenomenon! The fat heap he +married is a nice old phenomenon with a back on her like a ballalley. +Time they were stopping up in the _City Arms_ pisser Burke told me +there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and +Bloom trying to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing +bézique to come in for a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating +meat of a Friday because the old one was always thumping her craw and +taking the lout out for a walk. And one time he led him the rounds of +Dublin and, by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought +him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him +the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn’t near +roast him, it’s a queer story, the old one, Bloom’s wife and Mrs O’Dowd +that kept the hotel. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them +off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his _but don’t you see?_ and _but +on the other hand_. And sure, more be token, the lout I’m told was in +Power’s after, the blender’s, round in Cope street going home footless +in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the +samples in the bloody establishment. Phenomenon! + +—The memory of the dead, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and +glaring at Bloom. + +—Ay, ay, says Joe. + +—You don’t grasp my point, says Bloom. What I mean is... + +—_Sinn Fein!_ says the citizen. _Sinn Fein amhain!_ The friends we love +are by our side and the foes we hate before us. + +The last farewell was affecting in the extreme. From the belfries far +and near the funereal deathbell tolled unceasingly while all around the +gloomy precincts rolled the ominous warning of a hundred muffled drums +punctuated by the hollow booming of pieces of ordnance. The deafening +claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up the +ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its +supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. A torrential rain +poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared +heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest +computation five hundred thousand persons. A posse of Dublin +Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person +maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and +reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on +their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from +the cradle by Speranza’s plaintive muse. Special quick excursion trains +and upholstered charabancs had been provided for the comfort of our +country cousins of whom there were large contingents. Considerable +amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and +M-ll-g-n who sang _The Night before Larry was stretched_ in their usual +mirth-provoking fashion. Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade +with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody +who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity will +grudge them their hardearned pennies. The children of the Male and +Female Foundling Hospital who thronged the windows overlooking the +scene were delighted with this unexpected addition to the day’s +entertainment and a word of praise is due to the Little Sisters of the +Poor for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and +motherless children a genuinely instructive treat. The viceregal +houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their +Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while +the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald +Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. The delegation, +present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone +(the semiparalysed _doyen_ of the party who had to be assisted to his +seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane), Monsieur Pierrepaul +Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the +Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha +Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count Athanatos +Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi, Señor Hidalgo +Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la +Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen, +Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr +Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident +Hans Chuechli-Steuerli, +Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocentge +neralhistoryspecialprofessordoctor Kriegfried Ueberallgemein. All the +delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest +possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which +they had been called upon to witness. An animated altercation (in which +all took part) ensued among the F. O. T. E. I. as to whether the eighth +or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland’s +patron saint. In the course of the argument cannonballs, scimitars, +boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas, +catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to +and blows were freely exchanged. The baby policeman, Constable +MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly +restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth +of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending +parties. The readywitted ninefooter’s suggestion at once appealed to +all and was unanimously accepted. Constable MacFadden was heartily +congratulated by all the F. O. T. E. I., several of whom were bleeding +profusely. Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated from +underneath the presidential armchair, it was explained by his legal +adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his +thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the +pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their +senses. The objects (which included several hundred ladies’ and +gentlemen’s gold and silver watches) were promptly restored to their +rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme. + +Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless +morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the _Gladiolus +Cruentus_. He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough +which so many have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate—short, painstaking +yet withal so characteristic of the man. The arrival of the +worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the +huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in +their excitement while the even more excitable foreign delegates +cheered vociferously in a medley of cries, _hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, +chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive, Allah_, amid which the ringing +_evviva_ of the delegate of the land of song (a high double F recalling +those piercingly lovely notes with which the eunuch Catalani +beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers) was easily distinguishable. It +was exactly seventeen o’clock. The signal for prayer was then promptly +given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the +commendatore’s patriarchal sombrero, which has been in the possession +of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his +medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi. The learned prelate who +administered the last comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when +about to pay the death penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a +pool of rainwater, his cassock above his hoary head, and offered up to +the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. Hard by the block +stood the grim figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed in +a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which +his eyes glowered furiously. As he awaited the fatal signal he tested +the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or +decapitated in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been +provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office. On a +handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering +knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances (specially +supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and +Sons, Sheffield), a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the +duodenum, colon, blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully +extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most +precious blood of the most precious victim. The housesteward of the +amalgamated cats’ and dogs’ home was in attendance to convey these +vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. Quite an +excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried steak and +onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and +invigorating tea had been considerately provided by the authorities for +the consumption of the central figure of the tragedy who was in capital +spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the +proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an abnegation rare in +these our times, rose nobly to the occasion and expressed the dying +wish (immediately acceded to) that the meal should be divided in +aliquot parts among the members of the sick and indigent roomkeepers’ +association as a token of his regard and esteem. The _nec_ and _non +plus ultra_ of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst +her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself +upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched into +eternity for her sake. The hero folded her willowy form in a loving +embrace murmuring fondly _Sheila, my own_. Encouraged by this use of +her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable +areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her +ardour to reach. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of +their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would +never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips +as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk park. She +brought back to his recollection the happy days of blissful childhood +together on the banks of Anna Liffey when they had indulged in the +innocent pastimes of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, +they both laughed heartily, all the spectators, including the venerable +pastor, joining in the general merriment. That monster audience simply +rocked with delight. But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped +their hands for the last time. A fresh torrent of tears burst from +their lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people, touched to the +inmost core, broke into heartrending sobs, not the least affected being +the aged prebendary himself. Big strong men, officers of the peace and +genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of +their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye +in that record assemblage. A most romantic incident occurred when a +handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair +sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook and +genealogical tree, solicited the hand of the hapless young lady, +requesting her to name the day, and was accepted on the spot. Every +lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the +occasion in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and +generous act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the +gallant young Oxonian (the bearer, by the way, of one of the most +timehonoured names in Albion’s history) placed on the finger of his +blushing _fiancée_ an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in +the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds. Nay, +even the stern provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell +ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had +blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without +flinching, could not now restrain his natural emotion. With his mailed +gauntlet he brushed away a furtive tear and was overheard, by those +privileged burghers who happened to be in his immediate _entourage,_ to +murmur to himself in a faltering undertone: + +—God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Blimey it +makes me kind of bleeding cry, straight, it does, when I sees her cause +I thinks of my old mashtub what’s waiting for me down Limehouse way. + +So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language and the +corporation meeting and all to that and the shoneens that can’t speak +their own language and Joe chipping in because he stuck someone for a +quid and Bloom putting in his old goo with his twopenny stump that he +cadged off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the +antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland. Antitreating is +about the size of it. Gob, he’d let you pour all manner of drink down +his throat till the Lord would call him before you’d ever see the froth +of his pint. And one night I went in with a fellow into one of their +musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of +hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly +blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him in Irish and a lot of colleen +bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and +oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh +entertainment, don’t be talking. Ireland sober is Ireland free. And +then an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the gougers +shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. And one or two +sky pilots having an eye around that there was no goings on with the +females, hitting below the belt. + +So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty +starts mousing around by Joe and me. I’d train him by kindness, so I +would, if he was my dog. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again +where it wouldn’t blind him. + +—Afraid he’ll bite you? says the citizen, jeering. + +—No, says I. But he might take my leg for a lamppost. + +So he calls the old dog over. + +—What’s on you, Garry? says he. + +Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and the +old towser growling, letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera. +Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. Someone +that has nothing better to do ought to write a letter _pro bono +publico_ to the papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of +that. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth +is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws. + +All those who are interested in the spread of human culture among the +lower animals (and their name is legion) should make a point of not +missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the +famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the _sobriquet_ +of Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends +and acquaintances Owen Garry. The exhibition, which is the result of +years of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary +system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. +Our greatest living phonetic expert (wild horses shall not drag it from +us!) has left no stone unturned in his efforts to delucidate and +compare the verse recited and has found it bears a _striking_ +resemblance (the italics are ours) to the ranns of ancient Celtic +bards. We are not speaking so much of those delightful lovesongs with +which the writer who conceals his identity under the graceful pseudonym +of the Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but +rather (as a contributor D. O. C. points out in an interesting +communication published by an evening contemporary) of the harsher and +more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the +famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more +modern lyrist at present very much in the public eye. We subjoin a +specimen which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar +whose name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though we +believe that our readers will find the topical allusion rather more +than an indication. The metrical system of the canine original, which +recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh +englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will +agree that the spirit has been well caught. Perhaps it should be added +that the effect is greatly increased if Owen’s verse be spoken somewhat +slowly and indistinctly in a tone suggestive of suppressed rancour. + + The curse of my curses + Seven days every day + And seven dry Thursdays + On you, Barney Kiernan, + Has no sup of water + To cool my courage, + And my guts red roaring + After Lowry’s lights. + +So he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and, gob, you could +hear him lapping it up a mile off. And Joe asked him would he have +another. + +—I will, says he, _a chara_, to show there’s no ill feeling. + +Gob, he’s not as green as he’s cabbagelooking. Arsing around from one +pub to another, leaving it to your own honour, with old Giltrap’s dog +and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. Entertainment for +man and beast. And says Joe: + +—Could you make a hole in another pint? + +—Could a swim duck? says I. + +—Same again, Terry, says Joe. Are you sure you won’t have anything in +the way of liquid refreshment? says he. + +—Thank you, no, says Bloom. As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet +Martin Cunningham, don’t you see, about this insurance of poor +Dignam’s. Martin asked me to go to the house. You see, he, Dignam, I +mean, didn’t serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the +time and nominally under the act the mortgagee can’t recover on the +policy. + +—Holy Wars, says Joe, laughing, that’s a good one if old Shylock is +landed. So the wife comes out top dog, what? + +—Well, that’s a point, says Bloom, for the wife’s admirers. + +—Whose admirers? says Joe. + +—The wife’s advisers, I mean, says Bloom. + +Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act +like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench and for the benefit +of the wife and that a trust is created but on the other hand that +Dignam owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow +contested the mortgagee’s right till he near had the head of me addled +with his mortgagor under the act. He was bloody safe he wasn’t run in +himself under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a +friend in court. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal +Hungarian privileged lottery. True as you’re there. O, commend me to an +israelite! Royal and privileged Hungarian robbery. + +So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he +was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the funeral and +to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was +never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy that’s dead to tell her. +Choking with bloody foolery. And shaking Bloom’s hand doing the tragic +to tell her that. Shake hands, brother. You’re a rogue and I’m another. + +—Let me, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however +slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is +founded, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to +request of you this favour. But, should I have overstepped the limits +of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my +boldness. + +—No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which +actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me +consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow, +this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness +of the cup. + +—Then suffer me to take your hand, said he. The goodness of your heart, +I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the +expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose +poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of +speech. + +And off with him and out trying to walk straight. Boosed at five +o’clock. Night he was near being lagged only Paddy Leonard knew the +bobby, 14A. Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after +closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, +drinking porter out of teacups. And calling himself a Frenchy for the +shawls, Joseph Manuo, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he +serving mass in Adam and Eve’s when he was young with his eyes shut, +who wrote the new testament, and the old testament, and hugging and +smugging. And the two shawls killed with the laughing, picking his +pockets, the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed +and the two shawls screeching laughing at one another. _How is your +testament? Have you got an old testament?_ Only Paddy was passing +there, I tell you what. Then see him of a Sunday with his little +concubine of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the +chapel with her patent boots on her, no less, and her violets, nice as +pie, doing the little lady. Jack Mooney’s sister. And the old +prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples. Gob, Jack +made him toe the line. Told him if he didn’t patch up the pot, Jesus, +he’d kick the shite out of him. + +So Terry brought the three pints. + +—Here, says Joe, doing the honours. Here, citizen. + +—_Slan leat_, says he. + +—Fortune, Joe, says I. Good health, citizen. + +Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Want a small +fortune to keep him in drinks. + +—Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf? says Joe. + +—Friend of yours, says Alf. + +—Nannan? says Joe. The mimber? + +—I won’t mention any names, says Alf. + +—I thought so, says Joe. I saw him up at that meeting now with William +Field, M. P., the cattle traders. + +—Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of +all countries and the idol of his own. + +So Joe starts telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and +the cattle traders and taking action in the matter and the citizen +sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his +sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the +guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. Because he was up one time in a +knacker’s yard. Walking about with his book and pencil here’s my head +and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the order of the boot +for giving lip to a grazier. Mister Knowall. Teach your grandmother how +to milk ducks. Pisser Burke was telling me in the hotel the wife used +to be in rivers of tears some times with Mrs O’Dowd crying her eyes out +with her eight inches of fat all over her. Couldn’t loosen her farting +strings but old cod’s eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do +it. What’s your programme today? Ay. Humane methods. Because the poor +animals suffer and experts say and the best known remedy that doesn’t +cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. Gob, +he’d have a soft hand under a hen. + +Ga Ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Black Liz is our hen. She lays eggs for +us. When she lays her egg she is so glad. Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Then +comes good uncle Leo. He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her +fresh egg. Ga ga ga ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook. + +—Anyhow, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London +to ask about it on the floor of the house of commons. + +—Are you sure, says Bloom, the councillor is going? I wanted to see +him, as it happens. + +—Well, he’s going off by the mailboat, says Joe, tonight. + +—That’s too bad, says Bloom. I wanted particularly. Perhaps only Mr +Field is going. I couldn’t phone. No. You’re sure? + +—Nannan’s going too, says Joe. The league told him to ask a question +tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the +park. What do you think of that, citizen? _The Sluagh na h-Eireann_. + +Mr Cowe Conacre (Multifarnham. Nat.): Arising out of the question of my +honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right +honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that +these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is +forthcoming as to their pathological condition? + +Mr Allfours (Tamoshant. Con.): Honourable members are already in +possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole +house. I feel I cannot usefully add anything to that. The answer to the +honourable member’s question is in the affirmative. + +Mr Orelli O’Reilly (Montenotte. Nat.): Have similar orders been issued +for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the +Phoenix park? + +Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative. + +Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman’s famous +Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury +bench? (O! O!) + +Mr Allfours: I must have notice of that question. + +Mr Staylewit (Buncombe. Ind.): Don’t hesitate to shoot. + +(Ironical opposition cheers.) + +The speaker: Order! Order! + +(The house rises. Cheers.) + +—There’s the man, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. There +he is sitting there. The man that got away James Stephens. The champion +of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. What was your best +throw, citizen? + +—_Na bacleis_, says the citizen, letting on to be modest. There was a +time I was as good as the next fellow anyhow. + +—Put it there, citizen, says Joe. You were and a bloody sight better. + +—Is that really a fact? says Alf. + +—Yes, says Bloom. That’s well known. Did you not know that? + +So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of +lawn tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil +and building up a nation once again and all to that. And of course +Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower’s heart +violent exercise was bad. I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a +straw from the bloody floor and if you said to Bloom: _Look at, Bloom. +Do you see that straw? That’s a straw_. Declare to my aunt he’d talk +about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. + +A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of _Brian +O’Ciarnain’s_ in _Sraid na Bretaine Bheag_, under the auspices of +_Sluagh na h-Eireann_, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the +importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and +ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race. The +venerable president of the noble order was in the chair and the +attendance was of large dimensions. After an instructive discourse by +the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed, +a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual high +standard of excellence ensued as to the desirability of the +revivability of the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic +forefathers. The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of +our old tongue, Mr Joseph M’Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for +the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised +morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best +traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient +ages. L. Bloom, who met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, +having espoused the negative the vocalist chairman brought the +discussion to a close, in response to repeated requests and hearty +plaudits from all parts of a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy +rendering of the immortal Thomas Osborne Davis’ evergreen verses +(happily too familiar to need recalling here) _A nation once again_ in +the execution of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without +fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself. The Irish +Caruso-Garibaldi was in superlative form and his stentorian notes were +heard to the greatest advantage in the timehonoured anthem sung as only +our citizen can sing it. His superb highclass vocalism, which by its +superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation, was +vociferously applauded by the large audience among which were to be +noticed many prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives +of the press and the bar and the other learned professions. The +proceedings then terminated. + +Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. William Delany, S. J., L. +L. D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D. D.; the rev. P. J. Kavanagh, C. S. +Sp.; the rev. T. Waters, C. C.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P. P.; the rev. +P. J. Cleary, O. S. F.; the rev. L. J. Hickey, O. P.; the very rev. Fr. +Nicholas, O. S. F. C.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O. D. C.; the rev. T. +Maher, S. J.; the very rev. James Murphy, S. J.; the rev. John Lavery, +V. F.; the very rev. William Doherty, D. D.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O. +M.; the rev. T. Brangan, O. S. A.; the rev. J. Flavin, C. C.; the rev. +M. A. Hackett, C. C.; the rev. W. Hurley, C. C.; the rt rev. Mgr +M’Manus, V. G.; the rev. B. R. Slattery, O. M. I.; the very rev. M. D. +Scally, P. P.; the rev. F. T. Purcell, O. P.; the very rev. Timothy +canon Gorman, P. P.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C. C. The laity included P. +Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. + +—Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, were you at that +Keogh-Bennett match? + +—No, says Joe. + +—I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf. + +—Who? Blazes? says Joe. + +And says Bloom: + +—What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training +the eye. + +—Ay, Blazes, says Alf. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up +the odds and he swatting all the time. + +—We know him, says the citizen. The traitor’s son. We know what put +English gold in his pocket. + +—True for you, says Joe. + +And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the +blood, asking Alf: + +—Now, don’t you think, Bergan? + +—Myler dusted the floor with him, says Alf. Heenan and Sayers was only +a bloody fool to it. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. See +the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. God, +he gave him one last puck in the wind, Queensberry rules and all, made +him puke what he never ate. + +It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were +scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. +Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin’s pet lamb made up +for it by superlative skill in ringcraft. The final bout of fireworks +was a gruelling for both champions. The welterweight sergeantmajor had +tapped some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had +been receivergeneral of rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in +some neat work on the pet’s nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. The +soldier got to business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which +the Irish gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the +point of Bennett’s jaw. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him +with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one. The men came to +handigrips. Myler quickly became busy and got his man under, the bout +ending with the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler punishing him. The +Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he +was liberally drenched with water and when the bell went came on gamey +and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in +jigtime. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. The two +fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice +cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his +footwork a treat to watch. After a brisk exchange of courtesies during +which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely from +his opponent’s mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and +landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett’s stomach, flooring him +flat. It was a knockout clean and clever. Amid tense expectation the +Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett’s second Ole +Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared +victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the +ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight. + +—He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. I hear he’s +running a concert tour now up in the north. + +—He is, says Joe. Isn’t he? + +—Who? says Bloom. Ah, yes. That’s quite true. Yes, a kind of summer +tour, you see. Just a holiday. + +—Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn’t she? says Joe. + +—My wife? says Bloom. She’s singing, yes. I think it will be a success +too. + +He’s an excellent man to organise. Excellent. + +Hoho begob says I to myself says I. That explains the milk in the +cocoanut and absence of hair on the animal’s chest. Blazes doing the +tootle on the flute. Concert tour. Dirty Dan the dodger’s son off +Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to +fight the Boers. Old Whatwhat. I called about the poor and water rate, +Mr Boylan. You what? The water rate, Mr Boylan. You whatwhat? That’s +the bucko that’ll organise her, take my tip. ’Twixt me and you +Caddareesh. + +Pride of Calpe’s rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy. There +grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air. The +gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. +The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms. + +And lo, there entered one of the clan of the O’Molloy’s, a comely hero +of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty’s counsel learned +in the law, and with him the prince and heir of the noble line of +Lambert. + +—Hello, Ned. + +—Hello, Alf. + +—Hello, Jack. + +—Hello, Joe. + +—God save you, says the citizen. + +—Save you kindly, says J. J. What’ll it be, Ned? + +—Half one, says Ned. + +So J. J. ordered the drinks. + +—Were you round at the court? says Joe. + +—Yes, says J. J. He’ll square that, Ned, says he. + +—Hope so, says Ned. + +Now what were those two at? J. J. getting him off the grand jury list +and the other give him a leg over the stile. With his name in Stubbs’s. +Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their +eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee +orders. Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where +no-one would know him in the private office when I was there with +Pisser releasing his boots out of the pop. What’s your name, sir? +Dunne, says he. Ay, and done says I. Gob, he’ll come home by weeping +cross one of those days, I’m thinking. + +—Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? says Alf. U. p: up. + +—Yes, says J. J. Looking for a private detective. + +—Ay, says Ned. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only +Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting +examined first. + +—Ten thousand pounds, says Alf, laughing. God, I’d give anything to +hear him before a judge and jury. + +—Was it you did it, Alf? says Joe. The truth, the whole truth and +nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson. + +—Me? says Alf. Don’t cast your nasturtiums on my character. + +—Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence +against you. + +—Of course an action would lie, says J. J. It implies that he is not +_compos mentis_. U. p: up. + +_—Compos_ your eye! says Alf, laughing. Do you know that he’s balmy? +Look at his head. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat +on with a shoehorn. + +—Yes, says J. J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an +indictment for publishing it in the eyes of the law. + +—Ha ha, Alf, says Joe. + +—Still, says Bloom, on account of the poor woman, I mean his wife. + +—Pity about her, says the citizen. Or any other woman marries a half +and half. + +—How half and half? says Bloom. Do you mean he... + +—Half and half I mean, says the citizen. A fellow that’s neither fish +nor flesh. + +—Nor good red herring, says Joe. + +—That what’s I mean, says the citizen. A pishogue, if you know what +that is. + +Begob I saw there was trouble coming. And Bloom explaining he meant on +account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old +stuttering fool. Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody +povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him, +bringing down the rain. And she with her nose cockahoop after she +married him because a cousin of his old fellow’s was pewopener to the +pope. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney’s +moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal +Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. +And who was he, tell us? A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven +shillings a week, and he covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding +defiance to the world. + +—And moreover, says J. J., a postcard is publication. It was held to be +sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Hole. In my +opinion an action might lie. + +Six and eightpence, please. Who wants your opinion? Let us drink our +pints in peace. Gob, we won’t be let even do that much itself. + +—Well, good health, Jack, says Ned. + +—Good health, Ned, says J. J. + +—-There he is again, says Joe. + +—Where? says Alf. + +And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter +and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in +as they went past, talking to him like a father, trying to sell him a +secondhand coffin. + +—How did that Canada swindle case go off? says Joe. + +—Remanded, says J. J. + +One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James +Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers +saying he’d give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. What? Do you see +any green in the white of my eye? Course it was a bloody barney. What? +Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and +his own kidney too. J. J. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew +Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him, +swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid. + +—Who tried the case? says Joe. + +—Recorder, says Ned. + +—Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf, you can cod him up to the two eyes. + +—Heart as big as a lion, says Ned. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears +of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and, faith, he’ll dissolve +in tears on the bench. + +—Ay, says Alf. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn’t clap him in the dock +the other day for suing poor little Gumley that’s minding stones, for +the corporation there near Butt bridge. + +And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to cry: + +—A most scandalous thing! This poor hardworking man! How many children? +Ten, did you say? + +—Yes, your worship. And my wife has the typhoid. + +—And the wife with typhoid fever! Scandalous! Leave the court +immediately, sir. No, sir, I’ll make no order for payment. How dare +you, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order! A poor +hardworking industrious man! I dismiss the case. + +And whereas on the sixteenth day of the month of the oxeyed goddess and +in the third week after the feastday of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, +the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first +quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the +halls of law. There master Courtenay, sitting in his own chamber, gave +his rede and master Justice Andrews, sitting without a jury in the +probate court, weighed well and pondered the claim of the first +chargeant upon the property in the matter of the will propounded and +final testamentary disposition _in re_ the real and personal estate of +the late lamented Jacob Halliday, vintner, deceased, versus +Livingstone, an infant, of unsound mind, and another. And to the solemn +court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. And he sat +him there about the hour of five o’clock to administer the law of the +brehons at the commission for all that and those parts to be holden in +and for the county of the city of Dublin. And there sat with him the +high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of +the tribe of Patrick and of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Owen +and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of +Fergus and of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Dermot and of the +tribe of Cormac and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Caolte +and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and +true. And he conjured them by Him who died on rood that they should +well and truly try and true deliverance make in the issue joined +between their sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at the bar and +true verdict give according to the evidence so help them God and kiss +the book. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and they +swore by the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His +rightwiseness. And straightway the minions of the law led forth from +their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended +in consequence of information received. And they shackled him hand and +foot and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise but preferred a charge +against him for he was a malefactor. + +—Those are nice things, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland +filling the country with bugs. + +So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joe, +telling him he needn’t trouble about that little matter till the first +but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford. And so Joe swore high +and holy by this and by that he’d do the devil and all. + +—Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have +repetition. That’s the whole secret. + +—Rely on me, says Joe. + +—Swindling the peasants, says the citizen, and the poor of Ireland. We +want no more strangers in our house. + +—O, I’m sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom. It’s just that +Keyes, you see. + +—Consider that done, says Joe. + +—Very kind of you, says Bloom. + +—The strangers, says the citizen. Our own fault. We let them come in. +We brought them in. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon +robbers here. + +—Decree _nisi,_ says J. J. + +And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a +spider’s web in the corner behind the barrel, and the citizen scowling +after him and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite +and when. + +—A dishonoured wife, says the citizen, that’s what’s the cause of all +our misfortunes. + +—And here she is, says Alf, that was giggling over the _Police Gazette_ +with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint. + +—Give us a squint at her, says I. + +And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows +off of Corny Kelleher. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. +Misconduct of society belle. Norman W. Tupper, wealthy Chicago +contractor, finds pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor. +Belle in her bloomers misconducting herself, and her fancyman feeling +for her tickles and Norman W. Tupper bouncing in with his peashooter +just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with +officer Taylor. + +—O jakers, Jenny, says Joe, how short your shirt is! + +—There’s hair, Joe, says I. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off +of that one, what? + +So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a face on +him as long as a late breakfast. + +—Well, says the citizen, what’s the latest from the scene of action? +What did those tinkers in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide +about the Irish language? + +O’Nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the +puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of +that which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most obedient +city, second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there, +after due prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal, had taken +solemn counsel whereby they might, if so be it might be, bring once +more into honour among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided +Gael. + +—It’s on the march, says the citizen. To hell with the bloody brutal +Sassenachs and their _patois._ + +So J. J. puts in a word, doing the toff about one story was good till +you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting +your blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to +impeach a nation, and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and +botheration and their colonies and their civilisation. + +—Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen. To hell with them! +The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody +thicklugged sons of whores’ gets! No music and no art and no literature +worthy of the name. Any civilisation they have they stole from us. +Tonguetied sons of bastards’ ghosts. + +—The European family, says J. J.... + +—They’re not European, says the citizen. I was in Europe with Kevin +Egan of Paris. You wouldn’t see a trace of them or their language +anywhere in Europe except in a _cabinet d’aisance._ + +And says John Wyse: + +—Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. + +And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo: + +—_Conspuez les Anglais! Perfide Albion!_ + +He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands the +medher of dark strong foamy ale and, uttering his tribal slogan _Lamh +Dearg Abu_, he drank to the undoing of his foes, a race of mighty +valorous heroes, rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster +silent as the deathless gods. + +—What’s up with you, says I to Lenehan. You look like a fellow that had +lost a bob and found a tanner. + +—Gold cup, says he. + +—Who won, Mr Lenehan? says Terry. + +_—Throwaway,_ says he, at twenty to one. A rank outsider. And the rest +nowhere. + +—And Bass’s mare? says Terry. + +—Still running, says he. We’re all in a cart. Boylan plunged two quid +on my tip _Sceptre_ for himself and a lady friend. + +—I had half a crown myself, says Terry, on _Zinfandel_ that Mr Flynn +gave me. Lord Howard de Walden’s. + +—Twenty to one, says Lenehan. Such is life in an outhouse. _Throwaway,_ +says he. Takes the biscuit, and talking about bunions. Frailty, thy +name is _Sceptre._ + +So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was +anything he could lift on the nod, the old cur after him backing his +luck with his mangy snout up. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard. + +—Not there, my child, says he. + +—Keep your pecker up, says Joe. She’d have won the money only for the +other dog. + +And J. J. and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom +sticking in an odd word. + +—Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others’ eyes but they +can’t see the beam in their own. + +—_Raimeis_, says the citizen. There’s no-one as blind as the fellow +that won’t see, if you know what that means. Where are our missing +twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost +tribes? And our potteries and textiles, the finest in the whole world! +And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of Juvenal and our flax +and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our +tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our +Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk +and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite +convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the whole wide world. Where are +the Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the +Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyrian +purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Read Tacitus and +Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. Wine, peltries, Connemara marble, +silver from Tipperary, second to none, our farfamed horses even today, +the Irish hobbies, with king Philip of Spain offering to pay customs +duties for the right to fish in our waters. What do the yellowjohns of +Anglia owe us for our ruined trade and our ruined hearths? And the beds +of the Barrow and Shannon they won’t deepen with millions of acres of +marsh and bog to make us all die of consumption? + +—As treeless as Portugal we’ll be soon, says John Wyse, or Heligoland +with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land. +Larches, firs, all the trees of the conifer family are going fast. I +was reading a report of lord Castletown’s... + +—Save them, says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain +elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. Save the +trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of +Eire, O. + +—Europe has its eyes on you, says Lenehan. + +The fashionable international world attended _en masse_ this afternoon +at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan, grand high chief +ranger of the Irish National Foresters, with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine +Valley. Lady Sylvester Elmshade, Mrs Barbara Lovebirch, Mrs Poll Ash, +Mrs Holly Hazeleyes, Miss Daphne Bays, Miss Dorothy Canebrake, Mrs +Clyde Twelvetrees, Mrs Rowan Greene, Mrs Helen Vinegadding, Miss +Virginia Creeper, Miss Gladys Beech, Miss Olive Garth, Miss Blanche +Maple, Mrs Maud Mahogany, Miss Myra Myrtle, Miss Priscilla Elderflower, +Miss Bee Honeysuckle, Miss Grace Poplar, Miss O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel +Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall, +Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs +Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of +Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. The bride who was +given away by her father, the M’Conifer of the Glands, looked +exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised +silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of +broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, +the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn +bronze. The maids of honour, Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce +Conifer, sisters of the bride, wore very becoming costumes in the same +tone, a dainty _motif_ of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a +pinstripe and repeated capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form +of heron feathers of paletinted coral. Senhor Enrique Flor presided at +the organ with his wellknown ability and, in addition to the prescribed +numbers of the nuptial mass, played a new and striking arrangement of +_Woodman, spare that tree_ at the conclusion of the service. On leaving +the church of Saint Fiacre _in Horto_ after the papal blessing the +happy pair were subjected to a playful crossfire of hazelnuts, +beechmast, bayleaves, catkins of willow, ivytod, hollyberries, +mistletoe sprigs and quicken shoots. Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan +will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest. + +—And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen. We had our trade with +Spain and the French and with the Flemings before those mongrels were +pupped, Spanish ale in Galway, the winebark on the winedark waterway. + +—And will again, says Joe. + +—And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says the +citizen, clapping his thigh. Our harbours that are empty will be full +again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom +of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a +fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O’Reillys and the +O’Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with +the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. And will again, says he, when +the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own +flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor’s harps, no, the oldest flag +afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns +on a blue field, the three sons of Milesius. + +And he took the last swig out of the pint. Moya. All wind and piss like +a tanyard cat. Cows in Connacht have long horns. As much as his bloody +life is worth to go down and address his tall talk to the assembled +multitude in Shanagolden where he daren’t show his nose with the Molly +Maguires looking for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the +holding of an evicted tenant. + +—Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. What will you have? + +—An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. + +—Half one, Terry, says John Wyse, and a hands up. Terry! Are you +asleep? + +—Yes, sir, says Terry. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. Right, sir. + +Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead +of attending to the general public. Picture of a butting match, trying +to crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other with his +head down like a bull at a gate. And another one: _Black Beast Burned +in Omaha, Ga_. A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing +at a Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under +him. Gob, they ought to drown him in the sea after and electrocute and +crucify him to make sure of their job. + +—But what about the fighting navy, says Ned, that keeps our foes at +bay? + +—I’ll tell you what about it, says the citizen. Hell upon earth it is. +Read the revelations that’s going on in the papers about flogging on +the training ships at Portsmouth. A fellow writes that calls himself +_Disgusted One_. + +So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of +tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the +parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad +brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the buttend +of a gun. + +—A rump and dozen, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John +Beresford called it but the modern God’s Englishman calls it caning on +the breech. + +And says John Wyse: + +—’Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. + +Then he was telling us the master at arms comes along with a long cane +and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the poor lad +till he yells meila murder. + +—That’s your glorious British navy, says the citizen, that bosses the +earth. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the only hereditary +chamber on the face of God’s earth and their land in the hands of a +dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. That’s the great empire they +boast about of drudges and whipped serfs. + +—On which the sun never rises, says Joe. + +—And the tragedy of it is, says the citizen, they believe it. The +unfortunate yahoos believe it. + +They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, +and in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast, +born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was +scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day +he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend +till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be +paid. + +—But, says Bloom, isn’t discipline the same everywhere. I mean wouldn’t +it be the same here if you put force against force? + +Didn’t I tell you? As true as I’m drinking this porter if he was at his +last gasp he’d try to downface you that dying was living. + +—We’ll put force against force, says the citizen. We have our greater +Ireland beyond the sea. They were driven out of house and home in the +black 47. Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside were laid +low by the batteringram and the _Times_ rubbed its hands and told the +whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as +redskins in America. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. But the +Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of +crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Ay, +they drove out the peasants in hordes. Twenty thousand of them died in +the coffinships. But those that came to the land of the free remember +the land of bondage. And they will come again and with a vengeance, no +cravens, the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. + +—Perfectly true, says Bloom. But my point was... + +—We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Ned. Since the +poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at +Killala. + +—Ay, says John Wyse. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us +against the Williamites and they betrayed us. Remember Limerick and the +broken treatystone. We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the +wild geese. Fontenoy, eh? And Sarsfield and O’Donnell, duke of Tetuan +in Spain, and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria +Teresa. But what did we ever get for it? + +—The French! says the citizen. Set of dancing masters! Do you know what +it is? They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. Aren’t they +trying to make an _Entente cordiale_ now at Tay Pay’s dinnerparty with +perfidious Albion? Firebrands of Europe and they always were. + +—_Conspuez les Français_, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. + +—And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe, haven’t we +had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George +the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that’s +dead? + +Jesus, I had to laugh at the way he came out with that about the old +one with the winkers on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every +night of God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman +carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by +the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about _Ehren on the +Rhine_ and come where the boose is cheaper. + +—Well, says J. J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. + +—Tell that to a fool, says the citizen. There’s a bloody sight more pox +than pax about that boyo. Edward Guelph-Wettin! + +—And what do you think, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests and +bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic +Majesty’s racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his +jockeys rode. The earl of Dublin, no less. + +—They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says little +Alf. + +And says J. J.: + +—Considerations of space influenced their lordships’ decision. + +—Will you try another, citizen? says Joe. + +—Yes, sir, says he. I will. + +—You? says Joe. + +—Beholden to you, Joe, says I. May your shadow never grow less. + +—Repeat that dose, says Joe. + +Bloom was talking and talking with John Wyse and he quite excited with +his dunducketymudcoloured mug on him and his old plumeyes rolling +about. + +—Persecution, says he, all the history of the world is full of it. +Perpetuating national hatred among nations. + +—But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse. + +—Yes, says Bloom. + +—What is it? says John Wyse. + +—A nation? says Bloom. A nation is the same people living in the same +place. + +—By God, then, says Ned, laughing, if that’s so I’m a nation for I’m +living in the same place for the past five years. + +So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he, trying to +muck out of it: + +—Or also living in different places. + +—That covers my case, says Joe. + +—What is your nation if I may ask? says the citizen. + +—Ireland, says Bloom. I was born here. Ireland. + +The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and, +gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him right in the corner. + +—After you with the push, Joe, says he, taking out his handkerchief to +swab himself dry. + +—Here you are, citizen, says Joe. Take that in your right hand and +repeat after me the following words. + +The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth +attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, +authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and +called forth prolonged admiration. No need to dwell on the legendary +beauty of the cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly +discern each of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the +four masters his evangelical symbol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American +puma (a far nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said +in passing), a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. The +scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and +raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive +stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as +when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy +long long ago in the time of the Barmecides. Glendalough, the lovely +lakes of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh +and the Twelve Pins, Ireland’s Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh +Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company +(Limited), Lough Neagh’s banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde’s tower, the +Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun’s hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of +Aherlow, Lynch’s castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at +Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, +Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury’s Hotel, S. +Patrick’s Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, +Curley’s hole, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, +the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, +Fingal’s Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today +rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed +over them and by the rich incrustations of time. + +—Show us over the drink, says I. Which is which? + +—That’s mine, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman. + +—And I belong to a race too, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted. +Also now. This very moment. This very instant. + +Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar. + +—Robbed, says he. Plundered. Insulted. Persecuted. Taking what belongs +to us by right. At this very moment, says he, putting up his fist, sold +by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle. + +—Are you talking about the new Jerusalem? says the citizen. + +—I’m talking about injustice, says Bloom. + +—Right, says John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men. + +That’s an almanac picture for you. Mark for a softnosed bullet. Old +lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. Gob, he’d adorn a +sweepingbrush, so he would, if he only had a nurse’s apron on him. And +then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as +limp as a wet rag. + +—But it’s no use, says he. Force, hatred, history, all that. That’s not +life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that +it’s the very opposite of that that is really life. + +—What? says Alf. + +—Love, says Bloom. I mean the opposite of hatred. I must go now, says +he to John Wyse. Just round to the court a moment to see if Martin is +there. If he comes just say I’ll be back in a second. Just a moment. + +Who’s hindering you? And off he pops like greased lightning. + +—A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen. Universal love. + +—Well, says John Wyse. Isn’t that what we’re told. Love your neighbour. + +—That chap? says the citizen. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. Love, +moya! He’s a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. + +Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A +loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. +M. B. loves a fair gentleman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. +Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with +the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man +in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King +loves Her Majesty the Queen. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. +You love a certain person. And this person loves that other person +because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. + +—Well, Joe, says I, your very good health and song. More power, +citizen. + +—Hurrah, there, says Joe. + +—The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen. + +And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle. + +—We know those canters, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. +What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women +and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text _God is love_ +pasted round the mouth of his cannon? The bible! Did you read that skit +in the _United Irishman_ today about that Zulu chief that’s visiting +England? + +—What’s that? says Joe. + +So the citizen takes up one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts +reading out: + +—A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented +yesterday to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in +Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the +heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in +his dominions. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of +which the dusky potentate, in the course of a happy speech, freely +translated by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod +Barebones, tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the +cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, +stating that he treasured as one of his dearest possessions an +illuminated bible, the volume of the word of God and the secret of +England’s greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief +woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a personal dedication from the +august hand of the Royal Donor. The Alaki then drank a lovingcup of +firstshot usquebaugh to the toast _Black and White_ from the skull of +his immediate predecessor in the dynasty Kakachakachak, surnamed Forty +Warts, after which he visited the chief factory of Cottonopolis and +signed his mark in the visitors’ book, subsequently executing a +charming old Abeakutic wardance, in the course of which he swallowed +several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands. + +—Widow woman, says Ned. I wouldn’t doubt her. Wonder did he put that +bible to the same use as I would. + +—Same only more so, says Lenehan. And thereafter in that fruitful land +the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. + +—Is that by Griffith? says John Wyse. + +—No, says the citizen. It’s not signed Shanganagh. It’s only +initialled: P. + +—And a very good initial too, says Joe. + +—That’s how it’s worked, says the citizen. Trade follows the flag. + +—Well, says J. J., if they’re any worse than those Belgians in the +Congo Free State they must be bad. Did you read that report by a man +what’s this his name is? + +—Casement, says the citizen. He’s an Irishman. + +—Yes, that’s the man, says J. J. Raping the women and girls and +flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they +can out of them. + +—I know where he’s gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. + +—Who? says I. + +—Bloom, says he. The courthouse is a blind. He had a few bob on +_Throwaway_ and he’s gone to gather in the shekels. + +—Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? says the citizen, that never backed a +horse in anger in his life? + +—That’s where he’s gone, says Lenehan. I met Bantam Lyons going to back +that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip. +Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. He’s the +only man in Dublin has it. A dark horse. + +—He’s a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe. + +—Mind, Joe, says I. Show us the entrance out. + +—There you are, says Terry. + +Goodbye Ireland I’m going to Gort. So I just went round the back of the +yard to pumpship and begob (hundred shillings to five) while I was +letting off my _(Throwaway_ twenty to) letting off my load gob says I +to myself I knew he was uneasy in his (two pints off of Joe and one in +Slattery’s off) in his mind to get off the mark to (hundred shillings +is five quid) and when they were in the (dark horse) pisser Burke was +telling me card party and letting on the child was sick (gob, must have +done about a gallon) flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube _she’s +better_ or _she’s_ (ow!) all a plan so he could vamoose with the pool +if he won or (Jesus, full up I was) trading without a licence (ow!) +Ireland my nation says he (hoik! phthook!) never be up to those bloody +(there’s the last of it) Jerusalem (ah!) cuckoos. + +So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it +was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper +all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off +of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk +about selling Irish industries. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Gob, that +puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. +Give us a bloody chance. God save Ireland from the likes of that bloody +mouseabout. Mr Bloom with his argol bargol. And his old fellow before +him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman, that +poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country +with his baubles and his penny diamonds. Loans by post on easy terms. +Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. Distance no object. No +security. Gob, he’s like Lanty MacHale’s goat that’d go a piece of the +road with every one. + +—Well, it’s a fact, says John Wyse. And there’s the man now that’ll +tell you all about it, Martin Cunningham. + +Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power +with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the +collector general’s, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the +registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the +country at the king’s expense. + +Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their +palfreys. + +—Ho, varlet! cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party. +Saucy knave! To us! + +So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice. + +Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard. + +—Give you good den, my masters, said he with an obsequious bow. + +—Bestir thyself, sirrah! cried he who had knocked. Look to our steeds. +And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it. + +—Lackaday, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare +larder. I know not what to offer your lordships. + +—How now, fellow? cried the second of the party, a man of pleasant +countenance, So servest thou the king’s messengers, master Taptun? + +An instantaneous change overspread the landlord’s visage. + +—Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. An you be the king’s +messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. The +king’s friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my +house I warrant me. + +—Then about! cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty +trencherman by his aspect. Hast aught to give us? + +Mine host bowed again as he made answer: + +—What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of +venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog’s bacon, a boar’s +head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a +flagon of old Rhenish? + +—Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. That likes me well. Pistachios! + +—Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. A poor house and a bare +larder, quotha! ’Tis a merry rogue. + +So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom. + +—Where is he? says Lenehan. Defrauding widows and orphans. + +—Isn’t that a fact, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen +about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? + +—That’s so, says Martin. Or so they allege. + +—Who made those allegations? says Alf. + +—I, says Joe. I’m the alligator. + +—And after all, says John Wyse, why can’t a jew love his country like +the next fellow? + +—Why not? says J. J., when he’s quite sure which country it is. + +—Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the +hell is he? says Ned. Or who is he? No offence, Crofton. + +—Who is Junius? says J. J. + +—We don’t want him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian. + +—He’s a perverted jew, says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it was +he drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. We know +that in the castle. + +—Isn’t he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? says Jack Power. + +—Not at all, says Martin. Only namesakes. His name was Virag, the +father’s name that poisoned himself. He changed it by deedpoll, the +father did. + +—That’s the new Messiah for Ireland! says the citizen. Island of saints +and sages! + +—Well, they’re still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin. For that +matter so are we. + +—Yes, says J. J., and every male that’s born they think it may be their +Messiah. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, +till he knows if he’s a father or a mother. + +—Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan. + +—O, by God, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his +that died was born. I met him one day in the south city markets buying +a tin of Neave’s food six weeks before the wife was delivered. + +—_En ventre sa mère_, says J. J. + +—Do you call that a man? says the citizen. + +—I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe. + +—Well, there were two children born anyhow, says Jack Power. + +—And who does he suspect? says the citizen. + +Gob, there’s many a true word spoken in jest. One of those mixed +middlings he is. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a +month with headache like a totty with her courses. Do you know what I’m +telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like +of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Justifiable homicide, so it +would. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of +stuff like a man. Give us your blessing. Not as much as would blind +your eye. + +—Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. But where is he? We can’t wait. + +—A wolf in sheep’s clothing, says the citizen. That’s what he is. Virag +from Hungary! Ahasuerus I call him. Cursed by God. + +—Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? says Ned. + +—Only one, says Martin. We must be quick. J. J. and S. + +—You, Jack? Crofton? Three half ones, Terry. + +—Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, +says the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our +shores. + +—Well, says Martin, rapping for his glass. God bless all here is my +prayer. + +—Amen, says the citizen. + +—And I’m sure He will, says Joe. + +And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with +acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and +subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors +and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, +Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and +Vallombrosans, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines, +Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the children of Peter +Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet +led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and +friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers, +minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the sons of +Dominic, the friars preachers, and the sons of Vincent: and the monks +of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the confraternity of the +christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. +And after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr +and S. Isidore Arator and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and +S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites +and S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John of God and S. Ferreol and S. +Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent +de Paul and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and +S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard +and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and +S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous +and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O’Toole and S. James of Dingle and +Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S. +Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S. +Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and +S. Fiacre and S. John Nepomuc and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Ives of +Brittany and S. Michan and S. Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of +holy youth S. Aloysius Gonzaga and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. John +Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. +Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam +and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus +and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo +and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid +and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and +the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. +Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. And all came +with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords +and olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of +their efficacies, inkhorns, arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes, +trees, bridges, babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys, +dragons, lilies, buckshot, beards, hogs, lamps, bellows, beehives, +soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches, +forceps, stags’ horns, watertight boots, hawks, millstones, eyes on a +dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns. And as they wended their way +by Nelson’s Pillar, Henry street, Mary street, Capel street, Little +Britain street chanting the introit in _Epiphania Domini_ which +beginneth _Surge, illuminare_ and thereafter most sweetly the gradual +_Omnes_ which saith _de Saba venient_ they did divers wonders such as +casting out devils, raising the dead to life, multiplying fishes, +healing the halt and the blind, discovering various articles which had +been mislaid, interpreting and fulfilling the scriptures, blessing and +prophesying. And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the +reverend Father O’Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. And when the +good fathers had reached the appointed place, the house of Bernard +Kiernan and Co, limited, 8, 9 and 10 little Britain street, wholesale +grocers, wine and brandy shippers, licensed for the sale of beer, wine +and spirits for consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed the +house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults +and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and +the engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the +lintels thereof with blessed water and prayed that God might bless that +house as he had blessed the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and +make the angels of His light to inhabit therein. And entering he +blessed the viands and the beverages and the company of all the blessed +answered his prayers. + +—_Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini._ + +—_Qui fecit cœlum et terram._ + +—_Dominus vobiscum._ + +—_Et cum spiritu tuo._ + +And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he +prayed and they all with him prayed: + +—_Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde +super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et +voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem +sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animæ tutelam Te auctore +percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum._ + +—And so say all of us, says Jack. + +—Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford. + +—Right, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson. And butter for fish. + +I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike +when be damned but in he comes again letting on to be in a hell of a +hurry. + +—I was just round at the courthouse, says he, looking for you. I hope +I’m not... + +—No, says Martin, we’re ready. + +Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver. +Mean bloody scut. Stand us a drink itself. Devil a sweet fear! There’s +a jew for you! All for number one. Cute as a shithouse rat. Hundred to +five. + +—Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen. + +—Beg your pardon, says he. + +—Come on boys, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. Come along now. + +—Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him. It’s a +secret. + +And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl. + +—Bye bye all, says Martin. + +And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or +whatever you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be +all at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car. + +—Off with you, says Martin to the jarvey. + +The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop +the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off +forward with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. A many comely +nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the +sides of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the +cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the +equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds +them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas +they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. Even so +did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. +And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the bark +clave the waves. + +But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the +citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the +dropsy, and he cursing the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and +candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little +Alf round him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him. + +—Let me alone, says he. + +And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he bawls +out of him: + +—Three cheers for Israel! + +Arrah, sit down on the parliamentary side of your arse for Christ’ sake +and don’t be making a public exhibition of yourself. Jesus, there’s +always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about +bloody nothing. Gob, it’d turn the porter sour in your guts, so it +would. + +And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and +Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen bawling and +Alf and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews +and the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power trying to get him +to sit down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a +patch over his eye starts singing _If the man in the moon was a jew, +jew, jew_ and a slut shouts out of her: + +—Eh, mister! Your fly is open, mister! + +And says he: + +—Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. And +the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your God. + +—He had no father, says Martin. That’ll do now. Drive ahead. + +—Whose God? says the citizen. + +—Well, his uncle was a jew, says he. Your God was a jew. Christ was a +jew like me. + +Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop. + +—By Jesus, says he, I’ll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy +name. + +By Jesus, I’ll crucify him so I will. Give us that biscuitbox here. + +—Stop! Stop! says Joe. + +A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from +the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid +farewell to Nagyaságos uram Lipóti Virag, late of Messrs Alexander +Thom’s, printers to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for +the distant clime of Százharminczbrojúgulyás-Dugulás (Meadow of +Murmuring Waters). The ceremony which went off with great _éclat_ was +characterised by the most affecting cordiality. An illuminated scroll +of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to +the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the +community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, +tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work +which reflects every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob _agus_ Jacob. +The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of +those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of +Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of _Come Back to Erin_, +followed immediately by _Rakóczsy’s March_. Tarbarrels and bonfires +were lighted along the coastline of the four seas on the summits of the +Hill of Howth, Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf, Bray Head, the mountains +of Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and Sperrin peaks, the +Nagles and the Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the reeks of +M’Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Amid +cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a +big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, +the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final +floral tribute from the representatives of the fair sex who were +present in large numbers while, as it proceeded down the river, +escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the Ballast office and +Custom House were dipped in salute as were also those of the electrical +power station at the Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. +_Visszontlátásra, kedvés barátom! Visszontlátásra!_ Gone but not +forgotten. + +Gob, the devil wouldn’t stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin +anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he +shouting like a stuck pig, as good as any bloody play in the Queen’s +royal theatre: + +—Where is he till I murder him? + +And Ned and J. J. paralysed with the laughing. + +—Bloody wars, says I, I’ll be in for the last gospel. + +But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag’s head round the other +way and off with him. + +—Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Stop! + +Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the +sun was in his eyes or he’d have left him for dead. Gob, he near sent +it into the county Longford. The bloody nag took fright and the old +mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting +and laughing and the old tinbox clattering along the street. + +The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. The +observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the +fifth grade of Mercalli’s scale, and there is no record extant of a +similar seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534, +the year of the rebellion of Silken Thomas. The epicentre appears to +have been that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn’s Quay +ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, +two roods and one square pole or perch. All the lordly residences in +the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble +edifice itself, in which at the time of the catastrophe important legal +debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it +is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive. From the +reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were +accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic +character. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the +much respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a +silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat +of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of +quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been +discovered by search parties in remote parts of the island +respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant’s +causeway, the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in +the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale. Other +eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of +enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying +velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. Messages of +condolence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the +different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously +pleased to decree that a special _missa pro defunctis_ shall be +celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral +church of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority +of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who +have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst. The work of +salvage, removal of _débris,_ human remains etc has been entrusted to +Messrs Michael Meade and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. +and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and +officers of the Duke of Cornwall’s light infantry under the general +supervision of H. R. H., rear admiral, the right honourable sir +Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K. G., K. P., K. T., P. C., +K. C. B., M. P., J. P., M. B., D. S. O., S. O. D., M. F. H., M. R. I. +A., B. L., Mus. Doc., P. L. G., F. T. C. D., F. R. U. I., F. R. C. P. +I. and F. R. C. S. I. + +You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. Gob, if he got that +lottery ticket on the side of his poll he’d remember the gold cup, he +would so, but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and +battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. The jarvey saved his life by +furious driving as sure as God made Moses. What? O, Jesus, he did. And +he let a volley of oaths after him. + +—Did I kill him, says he, or what? + +And he shouting to the bloody dog: + +—After him, Garry! After him, boy! + +And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old +sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his +lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb. +Hundred to five! Jesus, he took the value of it out of him, I promise +you. + +When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld +the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld Him in +the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having +raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they +durst not look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: +_Elijah! Elijah!_ And He answered with a main cry: _Abba! Adonai!_ And +they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels +ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees +over Donohoe’s in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. + + +[ 13 ] + +The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious +embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of +all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the proud +promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bay, on +the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on +the quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the +stillness the voice of prayer to her who is in her pure radiance a +beacon ever to the stormtossed heart of man, Mary, star of the sea. + +The three girl friends were seated on the rocks, enjoying the evening +scene and the air which was fresh but not too chilly. Many a time and +oft were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have a cosy +chat beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy +Caffrey and Edy Boardman with the baby in the pushcar and Tommy and +Jacky Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits +with caps to match and the name _H. M. S. Belleisle_ printed on both. +For Tommy and Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very +noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that darling little +fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. They +were dabbling in the sand with their spades and buckets, building +castles as children do, or playing with their big coloured ball, happy +as the day was long. And Edy Boardman was rocking the chubby baby to +and fro in the pushcar while that young gentleman fairly chuckled with +delight. He was but eleven months and nine days old and, though still a +tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his first babyish words. Cissy +Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat little plucks and the dainty +dimple in his chin. + +—Now, baby, Cissy Caffrey said. Say out big, big. I want a drink of +water. + +And baby prattled after her: + +—A jink a jink a jawbo. + +Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond of +children, so patient with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could +never be got to take his castor oil unless it was Cissy Caffrey that +held his nose and promised him the scatty heel of the loaf or brown +bread with golden syrup on. What a persuasive power that girl had! But +to be sure baby Boardman was as good as gold, a perfect little dote in +his new fancy bib. None of your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, +was Cissy Caffrey. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life, +always with a laugh in her gipsylike eyes and a frolicsome word on her +cherryripe red lips, a girl lovable in the extreme. And Edy Boardman +laughed too at the quaint language of little brother. + +But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy and +Master Jacky. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception to +this golden rule. The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand +which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go +wrong that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like +the Martello tower had. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky +was selfwilled too and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman’s +house is his castle, he fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose +that the wouldbe assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) the +coveted castle too. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master +Tommy drew the attention of the girl friends. + +—Come here, Tommy, his sister called imperatively. At once! And you, +Jacky, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Wait till I +catch you for that. + +His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for +their big sister’s word was law with the twins. And in a sad plight he +was too after his misadventure. His little man-o’-war top and +unmentionables were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the +art of smoothing over life’s tiny troubles and very quickly not one +speck of sand was to be seen on his smart little suit. Still the blue +eyes were glistening with hot tears that would well up so she kissed +away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and +said if she was near him she wouldn’t be far from him, her eyes dancing +in admonition. + +—Nasty bold Jacky! she cried. + +She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly: + +—What’s your name? Butter and cream? + +—Tell us who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman. Is Cissy your +sweetheart? + +—Nao, tearful Tommy said. + +—Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy queried. + +—Nao, Tommy said. + +—I know, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from +her shortsighted eyes. I know who is Tommy’s sweetheart. Gerty is +Tommy’s sweetheart. + +—Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears. + +Cissy’s quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she whispered to Edy +Boardman to take him there behind the pushcar where the gentleman +couldn’t see and to mind he didn’t wet his new tan shoes. + +But who was Gerty? + +Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in thought, +gazing far away into the distance was, in very truth, as fair a +specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was +pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, +she was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and +graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had +been taking of late had done her a world of good much better than the +Widow Welch’s female pills and she was much better of those discharges +she used to get and that tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her face +was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth +was a genuine Cupid’s bow, Greekly perfect. Her hands were of finely +veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and +queen of ointments could make them though it was not true that she used +to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. Bertha Supple +told that once to Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was black +out at daggers drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their +little tiffs from time to time like the rest of mortals) and she told +her not to let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or +she’d never speak to her again. No. Honour where honour is due. There +was an innate refinement, a languid queenly _hauteur_ about Gerty which +was unmistakably evidenced in her delicate hands and higharched instep. +Had kind fate but willed her to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in +her own right and had she only received the benefit of a good education +Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own beside any lady in the +land and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow +and patrician suitors at her feet vying with one another to pay their +devoirs to her. Mayhap it was this, the love that might have been, that +lent to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed +meaning, that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful +eyes, a charm few could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? +Gerty’s were of the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and +dark expressive brows. Time was when those brows were not so silkily +seductive. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the Woman Beautiful +page of the Princess Novelette, who had first advised her to try +eyebrowleine which gave that haunting expression to the eyes, so +becoming in leaders of fashion, and she had never regretted it. Then +there was blushing scientifically cured and how to be tall increase +your height and you have a beautiful face but your nose? That would +suit Mrs Dignam because she had a button one. But Gerty’s crowning +glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. It was dark brown with a +natural wave in it. She had cut it that very morning on account of the +new moon and it nestled about her pretty head in a profusion of +luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, Thursday for wealth. And +just now at Edy’s words as a telltale flush, delicate as the faintest +rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet +girlish shyness that of a surety God’s fair land of Ireland did not +hold her equal. + +For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She was +about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue. +Inclination prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. +The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she glanced up and broke out +into a joyous little laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young +May morning. She knew right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy +say that because of him cooling in his attentions when it was simply a +lovers’ quarrel. As per usual somebody’s nose was out of joint about +the boy that had the bicycle off the London bridge road always riding +up and down in front of her window. Only now his father kept him in in +the evenings studying hard to get an exhibition in the intermediate +that was on and he was going to go to Trinity college to study for a +doctor when he left the high school like his brother W. E. Wylie who +was racing in the bicycle races in Trinity college university. Little +recked he perhaps for what she felt, that dull aching void in her heart +sometimes, piercing to the core. Yet he was young and perchance he +might learn to love her in time. They were protestants in his family +and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed +Virgin and then Saint Joseph. But he was undeniably handsome with an +exquisite nose and he was what he looked, every inch a gentleman, the +shape of his head too at the back without his cap on that she would +know anywhere something off the common and the way he turned the +bicycle at the lamp with his hands off the bars and also the nice +perfume of those good cigarettes and besides they were both of a size +too he and she and that was why Edy Boardman thought she was so +frightfully clever because he didn’t go and ride up and down in front +of her bit of a garden. + +Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of +Dame Fashion for she felt that there was just a might that he might be +out. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes (because +it was expected in the _Lady’s Pictorial_ that electric blue would be +worn) with a smart vee opening down to the division and kerchief pocket +(in which she always kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her +favourite perfume because the handkerchief spoiled the sit) and a navy +threequarter skirt cut to the stride showed off her slim graceful +figure to perfection. She wore a coquettish little love of a hat of +wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue +chenille and at the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. All Tuesday +week afternoon she was hunting to match that chenille but at last she +found what she wanted at Clery’s summer sales, the very it, slightly +shopsoiled but you would never notice, seven fingers two and a penny. +She did it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on +then, smiling at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to +her! And when she put it on the waterjug to keep the shape she knew +that that would take the shine out of some people she knew. Her shoes +were the newest thing in footwear (Edy Boardman prided herself that she +was very _petite_ but she never had a foot like Gerty MacDowell, a +five, and never would ash, oak or elm) with patent toecaps and just one +smart buckle over her higharched instep. Her wellturned ankle displayed +its perfect proportions beneath her skirt and just the proper amount +and no more of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with +highspliced heels and wide garter tops. As for undies they were Gerty’s +chief care and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet +seventeen (though Gerty would never see seventeen again) can find it in +his heart to blame her? She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty +stitchery, three garments and nighties extra, and each set slotted with +different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, +and she aired them herself and blued them when they came home from the +wash and ironed them and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on because +she wouldn’t trust those washerwomen as far as she’d see them scorching +the things. She was wearing the blue for luck, hoping against hope, her +own colour and lucky too for a bride to have a bit of blue somewhere on +her because the green she wore that day week brought grief because his +father brought him in to study for the intermediate exhibition and +because she thought perhaps he might be out because when she was +dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside +out and that was for luck and lovers’ meeting if you put those things +on inside out or if they got untied that he was thinking about you so +long as it wasn’t of a Friday. + +And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is +there all the time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give +worlds to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where, giving +way to tears, she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelings +though not too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the +mirror. You are lovely, Gerty, it said. The paly light of evening falls +upon a face infinitely sad and wistful. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. +Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage +has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T. +C. D. (because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs +Wylie) and in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was +wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox +was not to be. He was too young to understand. He would not believe in +love, a woman’s birthright. The night of the party long ago in Stoer’s +(he was still in short trousers) when they were alone and he stole an +arm round her waist she went white to the very lips. He called her +little one in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss (the +first!) but it was only the end of her nose and then he hastened from +the room with a remark about refreshments. Impetuous fellow! Strength +of character had never been Reggy Wylie’s strong point and he who would +woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be a man among men. But waiting, +always waiting to be asked and it was leap year too and would soon be +over. No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous +love at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face who +had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, +and who would understand, take her in his sheltering arms, strain her +to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort +her with a long long kiss. It would be like heaven. For such a one she +yearns this balmy summer eve. With all the heart of her she longs to be +his only, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness in +health, till death us two part, from this to this day forward. + +And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the pushcar she was +just thinking would the day ever come when she could call herself his +little wife to be. Then they could talk about her till they went blue +in the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she +would be twentytwo in November. She would care for him with creature +comforts too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked +that feeling of hominess. Her griddlecakes done to a goldenbrown hue +and queen Ann’s pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden +opinions from all because she had a lucky hand also for lighting a +fire, dredge in the fine selfraising flour and always stir in the same +direction, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of +eggs though she didn’t like the eating part when there were any people +that made her shy and often she wondered why you couldn’t eat something +poetical like violets or roses and they would have a beautifully +appointed drawingroom with pictures and engravings and the photograph +of grandpapa Giltrap’s lovely dog Garryowen that almost talked it was +so human and chintz covers for the chairs and that silver toastrack in +Clery’s summer jumble sales like they have in rich houses. He would be +tall with broad shoulders (she had always admired tall men for a +husband) with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed +sweeping moustache and they would go on the continent for their +honeymoon (three wonderful weeks!) and then, when they settled down in +a nice snug and cosy little homely house, every morning they would both +have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for their own two selves and +before he went out to business he would give his dear little wifey a +good hearty hug and gaze for a moment deep down into her eyes. + +Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he said yes so then +she buttoned up his little knickerbockers for him and told him to run +off and play with Jacky and to be good now and not to fight. But Tommy +said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with +the ball and if he took it there’d be wigs on the green but Tommy said +it was his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if +you please. The temper of him! O, he was a man already was little Tommy +Caffrey since he was out of pinnies. Edy told him no, no and to be off +now with him and she told Cissy Caffrey not to give in to him. + +—You’re not my sister, naughty Tommy said. It’s my ball. + +But Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to look up, look up high at her +finger and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the sand +and Tommy after it in full career, having won the day. + +—Anything for a quiet life, laughed Ciss. + +And she tickled tiny tot’s two cheeks to make him forget and played +here’s the lord mayor, here’s his two horses, here’s his gingerbread +carriage and here he walks in, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper +chin. But Edy got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way +like that from everyone always petting him. + +—I’d like to give him something, she said, so I would, where I won’t +say. + +—On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. + +Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the idea of Cissy +saying an unladylike thing like that out loud she’d be ashamed of her +life to say, flushing a deep rosy red, and Edy Boardman said she was +sure the gentleman opposite heard what she said. But not a pin cared +Ciss. + +—Let him! she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of +her nose. Give it to him too on the same place as quick as I’d look at +him. + +Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. You had to laugh at her sometimes. +For instance when she asked you would you have some more Chinese tea +and jaspberry ram and when she drew the jugs too and the men’s faces on +her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she wanted to +go where you know she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to the +Miss White. That was just like Cissycums. O, and will you ever forget +her the evening she dressed up in her father’s suit and hat and the +burned cork moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a +cigarette. There was none to come up to her for fun. But she was +sincerity itself, one of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever +made, not one of your twofaced things, too sweet to be wholesome. + +And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the +pealing anthem of the organ. It was the men’s temperance retreat +conducted by the missioner, the reverend John Hughes S. J., rosary, +sermon and benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. They were there +gathered together without distinction of social class (and a most +edifying spectacle it was to see) in that simple fane beside the waves, +after the storms of this weary world, kneeling before the feet of the +immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her +to intercede for them, the old familiar words, holy Mary, holy virgin +of virgins. How sad to poor Gerty’s ears! Had her father only avoided +the clutches of the demon drink, by taking the pledge or those powders +the drink habit cured in Pearson’s Weekly, she might now be rolling in +her carriage, second to none. Over and over had she told herself that +as she mused by the dying embers in a brown study without the lamp +because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of the window +dreamily by the hour at the rain falling on the rusty bucket, thinking. +But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths and homes had +cast its shadow over her childhood days. Nay, she had even witnessed in +the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and had seen +her own father, a prey to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself +completely for if there was one thing of all things that Gerty knew it +was that the man who lifts his hand to a woman save in the way of +kindness, deserves to be branded as the lowest of the low. + +And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful, +Virgin most merciful. And Gerty, rapt in thought, scarce saw or heard +her companions or the twins at their boyish gambols or the gentleman +off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey called the man that was so like +himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. You never saw him +any way screwed but still and for all that she would not like him for a +father because he was too old or something or on account of his face +(it was a palpable case of Doctor Fell) or his carbuncly nose with the +pimples on it and his sandy moustache a bit white under his nose. Poor +father! With all his faults she loved him still when he sang _Tell me, +Mary, how to woo thee_ or _My love and cottage near Rochelle_ and they +had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby’s salad dressing for supper +and when he sang _The moon hath raised_ with Mr Dignam that died +suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, from a stroke. Her +mother’s birthday that was and Charley was home on his holidays and Tom +and Mr Dignam and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were to have +had a group taken. No-one would have thought the end was so near. Now +he was laid to rest. And her mother said to him to let that be a +warning to him for the rest of his days and he couldn’t even go to the +funeral on account of the gout and she had to go into town to bring him +the letters and samples from his office about Catesby’s cork lino, +artistic, standard designs, fit for a palace, gives tiptop wear and +always bright and cheery in the home. + +A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the +house, a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in +gold. And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was +it rubbed the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn’t +like her mother’s taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single +thing they ever had words about, taking snuff. Everyone thought the +world of her for her gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas +at the main every night and it was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of +that place where she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime +Mr Tunney the grocer’s christmas almanac, the picture of halcyon days +where a young gentleman in the costume they used to wear then with a +threecornered hat was offering a bunch of flowers to his ladylove with +oldtime chivalry through her lattice window. You could see there was a +story behind it. The colours were done something lovely. She was in a +soft clinging white in a studied attitude and the gentleman was in +chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat. She often looked at them +dreamily when she went there for a certain purpose and felt her own +arms that were white and soft just like hers with the sleeves back and +thought about those times because she had found out in Walker’s +pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the +halcyon days what they meant. + +The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion till +at last Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no +getting behind that deliberately kicked the ball as hard as ever he +could down towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor Tommy was +not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was +sitting there by himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted +the ball. Our two champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries +and to avoid trouble Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it +to her please. The gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then +threw it up the strand towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the +slope and stopped right under Gerty’s skirt near the little pool by the +rock. The twins clamoured again for it and Cissy told her to kick it +away and let them fight for it so Gerty drew back her foot but she +wished their stupid ball hadn’t come rolling down to her and she gave a +kick but she missed and Edy and Cissy laughed. + +—If you fail try again, Edy Boardman said. + +Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her +pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted +her skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball +a jolly good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it +down towards the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else +to draw attention on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She +felt the warm flush, a danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, +surging and flaming into her cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged +glances of the most casual but now under the brim of her new hat she +ventured a look at him and the face that met her gaze there in the +twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed to her the saddest she had +ever seen. + +Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was wafted +and with it the fragrant names of her who was conceived without stain +of original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray +for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. And +careworn hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many +who had erred and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all +that bright with hope for the reverend father Father Hughes had told +them what the great saint Bernard said in his famous prayer of Mary, +the most pious Virgin’s intercessory power that it was not recorded in +any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever +abandoned by her. + +The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of +childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Cissy Caffrey played with +baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. +Peep she cried behind the hood of the pushcar and Edy asked where was +Cissy gone and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! and, my +word, didn’t the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say +papa. + +—Say papa, baby. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa. + +And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for +eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of +health, a perfect little bunch of love, and he would certainly turn out +to be something great, they said. + +—Haja ja ja haja. + +Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to +sit up properly and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried +out, holy saint Denis, that he was possing wet and to double the half +blanket the other way under him. Of course his infant majesty was most +obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it: + +—Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. + +And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was all +no use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the +geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave +him in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen +was quickly appeased. + +Gerty wished to goodness they would take their squalling baby home out +of that and not get on her nerves, no hour to be out, and the little +brats of twins. She gazed out towards the distant sea. It was like the +paintings that man used to do on the pavement with all the coloured +chalks and such a pity too leaving them there to be all blotted out, +the evening and the clouds coming out and the Bailey light on Howth and +to hear the music like that and the perfume of those incense they +burned in the church like a kind of waft. And while she gazed her heart +went pitapat. Yes, it was her he was looking at, and there was meaning +in his look. His eyes burned into her as though they would search her +through and through, read her very soul. Wonderful eyes they were, +superbly expressive, but could you trust them? People were so queer. +She could see at once by his dark eyes and his pale intellectual face +that he was a foreigner, the image of the photo she had of Martin +Harvey, the matinee idol, only for the moustache which she preferred +because she wasn’t stagestruck like Winny Rippingham that wanted they +two to always dress the same on account of a play but she could not see +whether he had an aquiline nose or a slightly _retroussé_ from where he +was sitting. He was in deep mourning, she could see that, and the story +of a haunting sorrow was written on his face. She would have given +worlds to know what it was. He was looking up so intently, so still, +and he saw her kick the ball and perhaps he could see the bright steel +buckles of her shoes if she swung them like that thoughtfully with the +toes down. She was glad that something told her to put on the +transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie might be out but that was +far away. Here was that of which she had so often dreamed. It was he +who mattered and there was joy on her face because she wanted him +because she felt instinctively that he was like no-one else. The very +heart of the girlwoman went out to him, her dreamhusband, because she +knew on the instant it was him. If he had suffered, more sinned against +than sinning, or even, even, if he had been himself a sinner, a wicked +man, she cared not. Even if he was a protestant or methodist she could +convert him easily if he truly loved her. There were wounds that wanted +healing with heartbalm. She was a womanly woman not like other flighty +girls unfeminine he had known, those cyclists showing off what they +hadn’t got and she just yearned to know all, to forgive all if she +could make him fall in love with her, make him forget the memory of the +past. Then mayhap he would embrace her gently, like a real man, +crushing her soft body to him, and love her, his ownest girlie, for +herself alone. + +Refuge of sinners. Comfortress of the afflicted. _Ora pro nobis_. Well +has it been said that whosoever prays to her with faith and constancy +can never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge +for the afflicted because of the seven dolours which transpierced her +own heart. Gerty could picture the whole scene in the church, the +stained glass windows lighted up, the candles, the flowers and the blue +banners of the blessed Virgin’s sodality and Father Conroy was helping +Canon O’Hanlon at the altar, carrying things in and out with his eyes +cast down. He looked almost a saint and his confessionbox was so quiet +and clean and dark and his hands were just like white wax and if ever +she became a Dominican nun in their white habit perhaps he might come +to the convent for the novena of Saint Dominic. He told her that time +when she told him about that in confession, crimsoning up to the roots +of her hair for fear he could see, not to be troubled because that was +only the voice of nature and we were all subject to nature’s laws, he +said, in this life and that that was no sin because that came from the +nature of woman instituted by God, he said, and that Our Blessed Lady +herself said to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to +Thy Word. He was so kind and holy and often and often she thought and +thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design +for him as a present or a clock but they had a clock she noticed on the +mantelpiece white and gold with a canarybird that came out of a little +house to tell the time the day she went there about the flowers for the +forty hours’ adoration because it was hard to know what sort of a +present to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or +some place. + +The exasperating little brats of twins began to quarrel again and Jacky +threw the ball out towards the sea and they both ran after it. Little +monkeys common as ditchwater. Someone ought to take them and give them +a good hiding for themselves to keep them in their places, the both of +them. And Cissy and Edy shouted after them to come back because they +were afraid the tide might come in on them and be drowned. + +—Jacky! Tommy! + +Not they! What a great notion they had! So Cissy said it was the very +last time she’d ever bring them out. She jumped up and called them and +she ran down the slope past him, tossing her hair behind her which had +a good enough colour if there had been more of it but with all the +thingamerry she was always rubbing into it she couldn’t get it to grow +long because it wasn’t natural so she could just go and throw her hat +at it. She ran with long gandery strides it was a wonder she didn’t rip +up her skirt at the side that was too tight on her because there was a +lot of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey and she was a forward piece +whenever she thought she had a good opportunity to show off and just +because she was a good runner she ran like that so that he could see +all the end of her petticoat running and her skinny shanks up as far as +possible. It would have served her just right if she had tripped up +over something accidentally on purpose with her high crooked French +heels on her to make her look tall and got a fine tumble. _Tableau!_ +That would have been a very charming exposé for a gentleman like that +to witness. + +Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs, queen of prophets, of all saints, +they prayed, queen of the most holy rosary and then Father Conroy +handed the thurible to Canon O’Hanlon and he put in the incense and +censed the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey caught the two twins and +she was itching to give them a ringing good clip on the ear but she +didn’t because she thought he might be watching but she never made a +bigger mistake in all her life because Gerty could see without looking +that he never took his eyes off of her and then Canon O’Hanlon handed +the thurible back to Father Conroy and knelt down looking up at the +Blessed Sacrament and the choir began to sing the _Tantum ergo_ and she +just swung her foot in and out in time as the music rose and fell to +the _Tantumer gosa cramen tum_. Three and eleven she paid for those +stockings in Sparrow’s of George’s street on the Tuesday, no the Monday +before Easter and there wasn’t a brack on them and that was what he was +looking at, transparent, and not at her insignificant ones that had +neither shape nor form (the cheek of her!) because he had eyes in his +head to see the difference for himself. + +Cissy came up along the strand with the two twins and their ball with +her hat anyhow on her to one side after her run and she did look a +streel tugging the two kids along with the flimsy blouse she bought +only a fortnight before like a rag on her back and a bit of her +petticoat hanging like a caricature. Gerty just took off her hat for a +moment to settle her hair and a prettier, a daintier head of nutbrown +tresses was never seen on a girl’s shoulders—a radiant little vision, +in sooth, almost maddening in its sweetness. You would have to travel +many a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that. She +could almost see the swift answering flash of admiration in his eyes +that set her tingling in every nerve. She put on her hat so that she +could see from underneath the brim and swung her buckled shoe faster +for her breath caught as she caught the expression in his eyes. He was +eying her as a snake eyes its prey. Her woman’s instinct told her that +she had raised the devil in him and at the thought a burning scarlet +swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour of her face became a +glorious rose. + +Edy Boardman was noticing it too because she was squinting at Gerty, +half smiling, with her specs like an old maid, pretending to nurse the +baby. Irritable little gnat she was and always would be and that was +why no-one could get on with her poking her nose into what was no +concern of hers. And she said to Gerty: + +—A penny for your thoughts. + +—What? replied Gerty with a smile reinforced by the whitest of teeth. I +was only wondering was it late. + +Because she wished to goodness they’d take the snottynosed twins and +their babby home to the mischief out of that so that was why she just +gave a gentle hint about its being late. And when Cissy came up Edy +asked her the time and Miss Cissy, as glib as you like, said it was +half past kissing time, time to kiss again. But Edy wanted to know +because they were told to be in early. + +—Wait, said Cissy, I’ll run ask my uncle Peter over there what’s the +time by his conundrum. + +So over she went and when he saw her coming she could see him take his +hand out of his pocket, getting nervous, and beginning to play with his +watchchain, looking up at the church. Passionate nature though he was +Gerty could see that he had enormous control over himself. One moment +he had been there, fascinated by a loveliness that made him gaze, and +the next moment it was the quiet gravefaced gentleman, selfcontrol +expressed in every line of his distinguishedlooking figure. + +Cissy said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was the +right time and Gerty could see him taking out his watch, listening to +it and looking up and clearing his throat and he said he was very sorry +his watch was stopped but he thought it must be after eight because the +sun was set. His voice had a cultured ring in it and though he spoke in +measured accents there was a suspicion of a quiver in the mellow tones. +Cissy said thanks and came back with her tongue out and said uncle said +his waterworks were out of order. + +Then they sang the second verse of the _Tantum ergo_ and Canon O’Hanlon +got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and he +told Father Conroy that one of the candles was just going to set fire +to the flowers and Father Conroy got up and settled it all right and +she could see the gentleman winding his watch and listening to the +works and she swung her leg more in and out in time. It was getting +darker but he could see and he was looking all the time that he was +winding the watch or whatever he was doing to it and then he put it +back and put his hands back into his pockets. She felt a kind of a +sensation rushing all over her and she knew by the feel of her scalp +and that irritation against her stays that that thing must be coming on +because the last time too was when she clipped her hair on account of +the moon. His dark eyes fixed themselves on her again drinking in her +every contour, literally worshipping at her shrine. If ever there was +undisguised admiration in a man’s passionate gaze it was there plain to +be seen on that man’s face. It is for you, Gertrude MacDowell, and you +know it. + +Edy began to get ready to go and it was high time for her and Gerty +noticed that that little hint she gave had had the desired effect +because it was a long way along the strand to where there was the place +to push up the pushcar and Cissy took off the twins’ caps and tidied +their hair to make herself attractive of course and Canon O’Hanlon +stood up with his cope poking up at his neck and Father Conroy handed +him the card to read off and he read out _Panem de coelo praestitisti +eis_ and Edy and Cissy were talking about the time all the time and +asking her but Gerty could pay them back in their own coin and she just +answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked her was she +heartbroken about her best boy throwing her over. Gerty winced sharply. +A brief cold blaze shone from her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn +immeasurable. It hurt—O yes, it cut deep because Edy had her own quiet +way of saying things like that she knew would wound like the confounded +little cat she was. Gerty’s lips parted swiftly to frame the word but +she fought back the sob that rose to her throat, so slim, so flawless, +so beautifully moulded it seemed one an artist might have dreamed of. +She had loved him better than he knew. Lighthearted deceiver and fickle +like all his sex he would never understand what he had meant to her and +for an instant there was in the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. +Their eyes were probing her mercilessly but with a brave effort she +sparkled back in sympathy as she glanced at her new conquest for them +to see. + +—O, responded Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing, and the proud head +flashed up. I can throw my cap at who I like because it’s leap year. + +Her words rang out crystalclear, more musical than the cooing of the +ringdove, but they cut the silence icily. There was that in her young +voice that told that she was not a one to be lightly trifled with. As +for Mr Reggy with his swank and his bit of money she could just chuck +him aside as if he was so much filth and never again would she cast as +much as a second thought on him and tear his silly postcard into a +dozen pieces. And if ever after he dared to presume she could give him +one look of measured scorn that would make him shrivel up on the spot. +Miss puny little Edy’s countenance fell to no slight extent and Gerty +could see by her looking as black as thunder that she was simply in a +towering rage though she hid it, the little kinnatt, because that shaft +had struck home for her petty jealousy and they both knew that she was +something aloof, apart, in another sphere, that she was not of them and +never would be and there was somebody else too that knew it and saw it +so they could put that in their pipe and smoke it. + +Edy straightened up baby Boardman to get ready to go and Cissy tucked +in the ball and the spades and buckets and it was high time too because +the sandman was on his way for Master Boardman junior. And Cissy told +him too that billy winks was coming and that baby was to go deedaw and +baby looked just too ducky, laughing up out of his gleeful eyes, and +Cissy poked him like that out of fun in his wee fat tummy and baby, +without as much as by your leave, sent up his compliments to all and +sundry on to his brandnew dribbling bib. + +—O my! Puddeny pie! protested Ciss. He has his bib destroyed. + +The slight _contretemps_ claimed her attention but in two twos she set +that little matter to rights. + +Gerty stifled a smothered exclamation and gave a nervous cough and Edy +asked what and she was just going to tell her to catch it while it was +flying but she was ever ladylike in her deportment so she simply passed +it off with consummate tact by saying that that was the benediction +because just then the bell rang out from the steeple over the quiet +seashore because Canon O’Hanlon was up on the altar with the veil that +Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction with the +Blessed Sacrament in his hands. + +How moving the scene there in the gathering twilight, the last glimpse +of Erin, the touching chime of those evening bells and at the same time +a bat flew forth from the ivied belfry through the dusk, hither, +thither, with a tiny lost cry. And she could see far away the lights of +the lighthouses so picturesque she would have loved to do with a box of +paints because it was easier than to make a man and soon the +lamplighter would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church +grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the couples walked +and lighting the lamp near her window where Reggy Wylie used to turn +his freewheel like she read in that book _The Lamplighter_ by Miss +Cummins, author of _Mabel Vaughan_ and other tales. For Gerty had her +dreams that no-one knew of. She loved to read poetry and when she got a +keepsake from Bertha Supple of that lovely confession album with the +coralpink cover to write her thoughts in she laid it in the drawer of +her toilettable which, though it did not err on the side of luxury, was +scrupulously neat and clean. It was there she kept her girlish treasure +trove, the tortoiseshell combs, her child of Mary badge, the whiterose +scent, the eyebrowleine, her alabaster pouncetbox and the ribbons to +change when her things came home from the wash and there were some +beautiful thoughts written in it in violet ink that she bought in +Hely’s of Dame Street for she felt that she too could write poetry if +she could only express herself like that poem that appealed to her so +deeply that she had copied out of the newspaper she found one evening +round the potherbs. _Art thou real, my ideal?_ it was called by Louis J +Walsh, Magherafelt, and after there was something about _twilight, wilt +thou ever?_ and ofttimes the beauty of poetry, so sad in its transient +loveliness, had misted her eyes with silent tears for she felt that the +years were slipping by for her, one by one, and but for that one +shortcoming she knew she need fear no competition and that was an +accident coming down Dalkey hill and she always tried to conceal it. +But it must end, she felt. If she saw that magic lure in his eyes there +would be no holding back for her. Love laughs at locksmiths. She would +make the great sacrifice. Her every effort would be to share his +thoughts. Dearer than the whole world would she be to him and gild his +days with happiness. There was the allimportant question and she was +dying to know was he a married man or a widower who had lost his wife +or some tragedy like the nobleman with the foreign name from the land +of song had to have her put into a madhouse, cruel only to be kind. But +even if—what then? Would it make a very great difference? From +everything in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively +recoiled. She loathed that sort of person, the fallen women off the +accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the soldiers and +coarse men with no respect for a girl’s honour, degrading the sex and +being taken up to the police station. No, no: not that. They would be +just good friends like a big brother and sister without all that other +in spite of the conventions of Society with a big ess. Perhaps it was +an old flame he was in mourning for from the days beyond recall. She +thought she understood. She would try to understand him because men +were so different. The old love was waiting, waiting with little white +hands stretched out, with blue appealing eyes. Heart of mine! She would +follow, her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he +was her all in all, the only man in all the world for her for love was +the master guide. Nothing else mattered. Come what might she would be +wild, untrammelled, free. + +Canon O’Hanlon put the Blessed Sacrament back into the tabernacle and +genuflected and the choir sang _Laudate Dominum omnes gentes_ and then +he locked the tabernacle door because the benediction was over and +Father Conroy handed him his hat to put on and crosscat Edy asked +wasn’t she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out: + +—O, look, Cissy! + +And they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too over +the trees beside the church, blue and then green and purple. + +—It’s fireworks, Cissy Caffrey said. + +And they all ran down the strand to see over the houses and the church, +helterskelter, Edy with the pushcar with baby Boardman in it and Cissy +holding Tommy and Jacky by the hand so they wouldn’t fall running. + +—Come on, Gerty, Cissy called. It’s the bazaar fireworks. + +But Gerty was adamant. She had no intention of being at their beck and +call. If they could run like rossies she could sit so she said she +could see from where she was. The eyes that were fastened upon her set +her pulses tingling. She looked at him a moment, meeting his glance, +and a light broke in upon her. Whitehot passion was in that face, +passion silent as the grave, and it had made her his. At last they were +left alone without the others to pry and pass remarks and she knew he +could be trusted to the death, steadfast, a sterling man, a man of +inflexible honour to his fingertips. His hands and face were working +and a tremour went over her. She leaned back far to look up where the +fireworks were and she caught her knee in her hands so as not to fall +back looking up and there was no-one to see only him and her when she +revealed all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that, supply +soft and delicately rounded, and she seemed to hear the panting of his +heart, his hoarse breathing, because she knew too about the passion of +men like that, hotblooded, because Bertha Supple told her once in dead +secret and made her swear she’d never about the gentleman lodger that +was staying with them out of the Congested Districts Board that had +pictures cut out of papers of those skirtdancers and highkickers and +she said he used to do something not very nice that you could imagine +sometimes in the bed. But this was altogether different from a thing +like that because there was all the difference because she could almost +feel him draw her face to his and the first quick hot touch of his +handsome lips. Besides there was absolution so long as you didn’t do +the other thing before being married and there ought to be women +priests that would understand without your telling out and Cissy +Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of dreamy look in her eyes +so that she too, my dear, and Winny Rippingham so mad about actors’ +photographs and besides it was on account of that other thing coming on +the way it did. + +And Jacky Caffrey shouted to look, there was another and she leaned +back and the garters were blue to match on account of the transparent +and they all saw it and they all shouted to look, look, there it was +and she leaned back ever so far to see the fireworks and something +queer was flying through the air, a soft thing, to and fro, dark. And +she saw a long Roman candle going up over the trees, up, up, and, in +the tense hush, they were all breathless with excitement as it went +higher and higher and she had to lean back more and more to look up +after it, high, high, almost out of sight, and her face was suffused +with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and he could see +her other things too, nainsook knickers, the fabric that caresses the +skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the green, four and eleven, +on account of being white and she let him and she saw that he saw and +then it went so high it went out of sight a moment and she was +trembling in every limb from being bent so far back that he had a full +view high up above her knee where no-one ever not even on the swing or +wading and she wasn’t ashamed and he wasn’t either to look in that +immodest way like that because he couldn’t resist the sight of the +wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so +immodest before gentlemen looking and he kept on looking, looking. She +would fain have cried to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms +to him to come, to feel his lips laid on her white brow, the cry of a +young girl’s love, a little strangled cry, wrung from her, that cry +that has rung through the ages. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot +blind blank and O! then the Roman candle burst and it was like a sigh +of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures and it gushed out of it a +stream of rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were all +greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lovely, O, soft, sweet, +soft! + +Then all melted away dewily in the grey air: all was silent. Ah! She +glanced at him as she bent forward quickly, a pathetic little glance of +piteous protest, of shy reproach under which he coloured like a girl. +He was leaning back against the rock behind. Leopold Bloom (for it is +he) stands silent, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. +What a brute he had been! At it again? A fair unsullied soul had called +to him and, wretch that he was, how had he answered? An utter cad he +had been! He of all men! But there was an infinite store of mercy in +those eyes, for him too a word of pardon even though he had erred and +sinned and wandered. Should a girl tell? No, a thousand times no. That +was their secret, only theirs, alone in the hiding twilight and there +was none to know or tell save the little bat that flew so softly +through the evening to and fro and little bats don’t tell. + +Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the football field to +show what a great person she was: and then she cried: + +—Gerty! Gerty! We’re going. Come on. We can see from farther up. + +Gerty had an idea, one of love’s little ruses. She slipped a hand into +her kerchief pocket and took out the wadding and waved in reply of +course without letting him and then slipped it back. Wonder if he’s too +far to. She rose. Was it goodbye? No. She had to go but they would meet +again, there, and she would dream of that till then, tomorrow, of her +dream of yester eve. She drew herself up to her full height. Their +souls met in a last lingering glance and the eyes that reached her +heart, full of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her sweet +flowerlike face. She half smiled at him wanly, a sweet forgiving smile, +a smile that verged on tears, and then they parted. + +Slowly, without looking back she went down the uneven strand to Cissy, +to Edy to Jacky and Tommy Caffrey, to little baby Boardman. It was +darker now and there were stones and bits of wood on the strand and +slippy seaweed. She walked with a certain quiet dignity characteristic +of her but with care and very slowly because—because Gerty MacDowell +was... + +Tight boots? No. She’s lame! O! + +Mr Bloom watched her as she limped away. Poor girl! That’s why she’s +left on the shelf and the others did a sprint. Thought something was +wrong by the cut of her jib. Jilted beauty. A defect is ten times worse +in a woman. But makes them polite. Glad I didn’t know it when she was +on show. Hot little devil all the same. I wouldn’t mind. Curiosity like +a nun or a negress or a girl with glasses. That squinty one is +delicate. Near her monthlies, I expect, makes them feel ticklish. I +have such a bad headache today. Where did I put the letter? Yes, all +right. All kinds of crazy longings. Licking pennies. Girl in Tranquilla +convent that nun told me liked to smell rock oil. Virgins go mad in the +end I suppose. Sister? How many women in Dublin have it today? Martha, +she. Something in the air. That’s the moon. But then why don’t all +women menstruate at the same time with the same moon, I mean? Depends +on the time they were born I suppose. Or all start scratch then get out +of step. Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Anyhow I got the best of +that. Damned glad I didn’t do it in the bath this morning over her +silly I will punish you letter. Made up for that tramdriver this +morning. That gouger M’Coy stopping me to say nothing. And his wife +engagement in the country valise, voice like a pickaxe. Thankful for +small mercies. Cheap too. Yours for the asking. Because they want it +themselves. Their natural craving. Shoals of them every evening poured +out of offices. Reserve better. Don’t want it they throw it at you. +Catch em alive, O. Pity they can’t see themselves. A dream of +wellfilled hose. Where was that? Ah, yes. Mutoscope pictures in Capel +street: for men only. Peeping Tom. Willy’s hat and what the girls did +with it. Do they snapshot those girls or is it all a fake? _Lingerie_ +does it. Felt for the curves inside her _déshabillé._ Excites them also +when they’re. I’m all clean come and dirty me. And they like dressing +one another for the sacrifice. Milly delighted with Molly’s new blouse. +At first. Put them all on to take them all off. Molly. Why I bought her +the violet garters. Us too: the tie he wore, his lovely socks and +turnedup trousers. He wore a pair of gaiters the night that first we +met. His lovely shirt was shining beneath his what? of jet. Say a woman +loses a charm with every pin she takes out. Pinned together. O, Mairy +lost the pin of her. Dressed up to the nines for somebody. Fashion part +of their charm. Just changes when you’re on the track of the secret. +Except the east: Mary, Martha: now as then. No reasonable offer +refused. She wasn’t in a hurry either. Always off to a fellow when they +are. They never forget an appointment. Out on spec probably. They +believe in chance because like themselves. And the others inclined to +give her an odd dig. Girl friends at school, arms round each other’s +necks or with ten fingers locked, kissing and whispering secrets about +nothing in the convent garden. Nuns with whitewashed faces, cool coifs +and their rosaries going up and down, vindictive too for what they +can’t get. Barbed wire. Be sure now and write to me. And I’ll write to +you. Now won’t you? Molly and Josie Powell. Till Mr Right comes along, +then meet once in a blue moon. _Tableau!_ O, look who it is for the +love of God! How are you at all? What have you been doing with +yourself? Kiss and delighted to, kiss, to see you. Picking holes in +each other’s appearance. You’re looking splendid. Sister souls. Showing +their teeth at one another. How many have you left? Wouldn’t lend each +other a pinch of salt. + +Ah! + +Devils they are when that’s coming on them. Dark devilish appearance. +Molly often told me feel things a ton weight. Scratch the sole of my +foot. O that way! O, that’s exquisite! Feel it myself too. Good to rest +once in a way. Wonder if it’s bad to go with them then. Safe in one +way. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap. Something about withering +plants I read in a garden. Besides they say if the flower withers she +wears she’s a flirt. All are. Daresay she felt I. When you feel like +that you often meet what you feel. Liked me or what? Dress they look +at. Always know a fellow courting: collars and cuffs. Well cocks and +lions do the same and stags. Same time might prefer a tie undone or +something. Trousers? Suppose I when I was? No. Gently does it. Dislike +rough and tumble. Kiss in the dark and never tell. Saw something in me. +Wonder what. Sooner have me as I am than some poet chap with +bearsgrease plastery hair, lovelock over his dexter optic. To aid +gentleman in literary. Ought to attend to my appearance my age. Didn’t +let her see me in profile. Still, you never know. Pretty girls and ugly +men marrying. Beauty and the beast. Besides I can’t be so if Molly. +Took off her hat to show her hair. Wide brim. Bought to hide her face, +meeting someone might know her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers +to smell. Hair strong in rut. Ten bob I got for Molly’s combings when +we were on the rocks in Holles street. Why not? Suppose he gave her +money. Why not? All a prejudice. She’s worth ten, fifteen, more, a +pound. What? I think so. All that for nothing. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. +Did I forget to write address on that letter like the postcard I sent +to Flynn? And the day I went to Drimmie’s without a necktie. Wrangle +with Molly it was put me off. No, I remember. Richie Goulding: he’s +another. Weighs on his mind. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. +Dust. Shark liver oil they use to clean. Could do it myself. Save. Was +that just when he, she? + +O, he did. Into her. She did. Done. + +Ah! + +Mr Bloom with careful hand recomposed his wet shirt. O Lord, that +little limping devil. Begins to feel cold and clammy. Aftereffect not +pleasant. Still you have to get rid of it someway. They don’t care. +Complimented perhaps. Go home to nicey bread and milky and say night +prayers with the kiddies. Well, aren’t they? See her as she is spoil +all. Must have the stage setting, the rouge, costume, position, music. +The name too. _Amours_ of actresses. Nell Gwynn, Mrs Bracegirdle, Maud +Branscombe. Curtain up. Moonlight silver effulgence. Maiden discovered +with pensive bosom. Little sweetheart come and kiss me. Still, I feel. +The strength it gives a man. That’s the secret of it. Good job I let +off there behind the wall coming out of Dignam’s. Cider that was. +Otherwise I couldn’t have. Makes you want to sing after. _Lacaus esant +taratara_. Suppose I spoke to her. What about? Bad plan however if you +don’t know how to end the conversation. Ask them a question they ask +you another. Good idea if you’re stuck. Gain time. But then you’re in a +cart. Wonderful of course if you say: good evening, and you see she’s +on for it: good evening. O but the dark evening in the Appian way I +nearly spoke to Mrs Clinch O thinking she was. Whew! Girl in Meath +street that night. All the dirty things I made her say. All wrong of +course. My arks she called it. It’s so hard to find one who. Aho! If +you don’t answer when they solicit must be horrible for them till they +harden. And kissed my hand when I gave her the extra two shillings. +Parrots. Press the button and the bird will squeak. Wish she hadn’t +called me sir. O, her mouth in the dark! And you a married man with a +single girl! That’s what they enjoy. Taking a man from another woman. +Or even hear of it. Different with me. Glad to get away from other +chap’s wife. Eating off his cold plate. Chap in the Burton today +spitting back gumchewed gristle. French letter still in my pocketbook. +Cause of half the trouble. But might happen sometime, I don’t think. +Come in, all is prepared. I dreamt. What? Worst is beginning. How they +change the venue when it’s not what they like. Ask you do you like +mushrooms because she once knew a gentleman who. Or ask you what +someone was going to say when he changed his mind and stopped. Yet if I +went the whole hog, say: I want to, something like that. Because I did. +She too. Offend her. Then make it up. Pretend to want something +awfully, then cry off for her sake. Flatters them. She must have been +thinking of someone else all the time. What harm? Must since she came +to the use of reason, he, he and he. First kiss does the trick. The +propitious moment. Something inside them goes pop. Mushy like, tell by +their eye, on the sly. First thoughts are best. Remember that till +their dying day. Molly, lieutenant Mulvey that kissed her under the +Moorish wall beside the gardens. Fifteen she told me. But her breasts +were developed. Fell asleep then. After Glencree dinner that was when +we drove home. Featherbed mountain. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. Lord +mayor had his eye on her too. Val Dillon. Apoplectic. + +There she is with them down there for the fireworks. My fireworks. Up +like a rocket, down like a stick. And the children, twins they must be, +waiting for something to happen. Want to be grownups. Dressing in +mother’s clothes. Time enough, understand all the ways of the world. +And the dark one with the mop head and the nigger mouth. I knew she +could whistle. Mouth made for that. Like Molly. Why that highclass +whore in Jammet’s wore her veil only to her nose. Would you mind, +please, telling me the right time? I’ll tell you the right time up a +dark lane. Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning, cure for +fat lips. Caressing the little boy too. Onlookers see most of the game. +Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. In their line. + +Didn’t look back when she was going down the strand. Wouldn’t give that +satisfaction. Those girls, those girls, those lovely seaside girls. +Fine eyes she had, clear. It’s the white of the eye brings that out not +so much the pupil. Did she know what I? Course. Like a cat sitting +beyond a dog’s jump. Women never meet one like that Wilkins in the high +school drawing a picture of Venus with all his belongings on show. Call +that innocence? Poor idiot! His wife has her work cut out for her. +Never see them sit on a bench marked _Wet Paint_. Eyes all over them. +Look under the bed for what’s not there. Longing to get the fright of +their lives. Sharp as needles they are. When I said to Molly the man at +the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she might like, +twigged at once he had a false arm. Had, too. Where do they get that? +Typist going up Roger Greene’s stairs two at a time to show her +understandings. Handed down from father to, mother to daughter, I mean. +Bred in the bone. Milly for example drying her handkerchief on the +mirror to save the ironing. Best place for an ad to catch a woman’s eye +on a mirror. And when I sent her for Molly’s Paisley shawl to +Prescott’s by the way that ad I must, carrying home the change in her +stocking! Clever little minx. I never told her. Neat way she carries +parcels too. Attract men, small thing like that. Holding up her hand, +shaking it, to let the blood flow back when it was red. Who did you +learn that from? Nobody. Something the nurse taught me. O, don’t they +know! Three years old she was in front of Molly’s dressingtable, just +before we left Lombard street west. Me have a nice pace. Mullingar. Who +knows? Ways of the world. Young student. Straight on her pins anyway +not like the other. Still she was game. Lord, I am wet. Devil you are. +Swell of her calf. Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. +Not like that frump today. A. E. Rumpled stockings. Or the one in +Grafton street. White. Wow! Beef to the heel. + +A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Zrads +and zrads, zrads, zrads. And Cissy and Tommy and Jacky ran out to see +and Edy after with the pushcar and then Gerty beyond the curve of the +rocks. Will she? Watch! Watch! See! Looked round. She smelt an onion. +Darling, I saw, your. I saw all. + +Lord! + +Did me good all the same. Off colour after Kiernan’s, Dignam’s. For +this relief much thanks. In _Hamlet,_ that is. Lord! It was all things +combined. Excitement. When she leaned back, felt an ache at the butt of +my tongue. Your head it simply swirls. He’s right. Might have made a +worse fool of myself however. Instead of talking about nothing. Then I +will tell you all. Still it was a kind of language between us. It +couldn’t be? No, Gerty they called her. Might be false name however +like my name and the address Dolphin’s barn a blind. + + Her maiden name was Jemina Brown + And she lived with her mother in Irishtown. + +Place made me think of that I suppose. All tarred with the same brush. +Wiping pens in their stockings. But the ball rolled down to her as if +it understood. Every bullet has its billet. Course I never could throw +anything straight at school. Crooked as a ram’s horn. Sad however +because it lasts only a few years till they settle down to potwalloping +and papa’s pants will soon fit Willy and fuller’s earth for the baby +when they hold him out to do ah ah. No soft job. Saves them. Keeps them +out of harm’s way. Nature. Washing child, washing corpse. Dignam. +Children’s hands always round them. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not even +closed at first, sour milk in their swaddles and tainted curds. +Oughtn’t to have given that child an empty teat to suck. Fill it up +with wind. Mrs Beaufoy, Purefoy. Must call to the hospital. Wonder is +nurse Callan there still. She used to look over some nights when Molly +was in the Coffee Palace. That young doctor O’Hare I noticed her +brushing his coat. And Mrs Breen and Mrs Dignam once like that too, +marriageable. Worst of all at night Mrs Duggan told me in the City +Arms. Husband rolling in drunk, stink of pub off him like a polecat. +Have that in your nose in the dark, whiff of stale boose. Then ask in +the morning: was I drunk last night? Bad policy however to fault the +husband. Chickens come home to roost. They stick by one another like +glue. Maybe the women’s fault also. That’s where Molly can knock spots +off them. It’s the blood of the south. Moorish. Also the form, the +figure. Hands felt for the opulent. Just compare for instance those +others. Wife locked up at home, skeleton in the cupboard. Allow me to +introduce my. Then they trot you out some kind of a nondescript, +wouldn’t know what to call her. Always see a fellow’s weak point in his +wife. Still there’s destiny in it, falling in love. Have their own +secrets between them. Chaps that would go to the dogs if some woman +didn’t take them in hand. Then little chits of girls, height of a +shilling in coppers, with little hubbies. As God made them he matched +them. Sometimes children turn out well enough. Twice nought makes one. +Or old rich chap of seventy and blushing bride. Marry in May and repent +in December. This wet is very unpleasant. Stuck. Well the foreskin is +not back. Better detach. + +Ow! + +Other hand a sixfooter with a wifey up to his watchpocket. Long and the +short of it. Big he and little she. Very strange about my watch. +Wristwatches are always going wrong. Wonder is there any magnetic +influence between the person because that was about the time he. Yes, I +suppose, at once. Cat’s away, the mice will play. I remember looking in +Pill lane. Also that now is magnetism. Back of everything magnetism. +Earth for instance pulling this and being pulled. That causes movement. +And time, well that’s the time the movement takes. Then if one thing +stopped the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. Because it’s all +arranged. Magnetic needle tells you what’s going on in the sun, the +stars. Little piece of steel iron. When you hold out the fork. Come. +Come. Tip. Woman and man that is. Fork and steel. Molly, he. Dress up +and look and suggest and let you see and see more and defy you if +you’re a man to see that and, like a sneeze coming, legs, look, look +and if you have any guts in you. Tip. Have to let fly. + +Wonder how is she feeling in that region. Shame all put on before third +person. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Molly, her underjaw +stuck out, head back, about the farmer in the ridingboots and spurs at +the horse show. And when the painters were in Lombard street west. Fine +voice that fellow had. How Giuglini began. Smell that I did. Like +flowers. It was too. Violets. Came from the turpentine probably in the +paint. Make their own use of everything. Same time doing it scraped her +slipper on the floor so they wouldn’t hear. But lots of them can’t kick +the beam, I think. Keep that thing up for hours. Kind of a general all +round over me and half down my back. + +Wait. Hm. Hm. Yes. That’s her perfume. Why she waved her hand. I leave +you this to think of me when I’m far away on the pillow. What is it? +Heliotrope? No. Hyacinth? Hm. Roses, I think. She’d like scent of that +kind. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Why Molly likes opoponax. Suits her, +with a little jessamine mixed. Her high notes and her low notes. At the +dance night she met him, dance of the hours. Heat brought it out. She +was wearing her black and it had the perfume of the time before. Good +conductor, is it? Or bad? Light too. Suppose there’s some connection. +For instance if you go into a cellar where it’s dark. Mysterious thing +too. Why did I smell it only now? Took its time in coming like herself, +slow but sure. Suppose it’s ever so many millions of tiny grains blown +across. Yes, it is. Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this +morning, smell them leagues off. Tell you what it is. It’s like a fine +fine veil or web they have all over the skin, fine like what do you +call it gossamer, and they’re always spinning it out of them, fine as +anything, like rainbow colours without knowing it. Clings to everything +she takes off. Vamp of her stockings. Warm shoe. Stays. Drawers: little +kick, taking them off. Byby till next time. Also the cat likes to sniff +in her shift on the bed. Know her smell in a thousand. Bathwater too. +Reminds me of strawberries and cream. Wonder where it is really. There +or the armpits or under the neck. Because you get it out of all holes +and corners. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something. +Muskrat. Bag under their tails. One grain pour off odour for years. +Dogs at each other behind. Good evening. Evening. How do you sniff? Hm. +Hm. Very well, thank you. Animals go by that. Yes now, look at it that +way. We’re the same. Some women, instance, warn you off when they have +their period. Come near. Then get a hogo you could hang your hat on. +Like what? Potted herrings gone stale or. Boof! Please keep off the +grass. + +Perhaps they get a man smell off us. What though? Cigary gloves long +John had on his desk the other day. Breath? What you eat and drink +gives that. No. Mansmell, I mean. Must be connected with that because +priests that are supposed to be are different. Women buzz round it like +flies round treacle. Railed off the altar get on to it at any cost. The +tree of forbidden priest. O, father, will you? Let me be the first to. +That diffuses itself all through the body, permeates. Source of life. +And it’s extremely curious the smell. Celery sauce. Let me. + +Mr Bloom inserted his nose. Hm. Into the. Hm. Opening of his waistcoat. +Almonds or. No. Lemons it is. Ah no, that’s the soap. + +O by the by that lotion. I knew there was something on my mind. Never +went back and the soap not paid. Dislike carrying bottles like that hag +this morning. Hynes might have paid me that three shillings. I could +mention Meagher’s just to remind him. Still if he works that paragraph. +Two and nine. Bad opinion of me he’ll have. Call tomorrow. How much do +I owe you? Three and nine? Two and nine, sir. Ah. Might stop him giving +credit another time. Lose your customers that way. Pubs do. Fellows run +up a bill on the slate and then slinking around the back streets into +somewhere else. + +Here’s this nobleman passed before. Blown in from the bay. Just went as +far as turn back. Always at home at dinnertime. Looks mangled out: had +a good tuck in. Enjoying nature now. Grace after meals. After supper +walk a mile. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere, government +sit. Walk after him now make him awkward like those newsboys me today. +Still you learn something. See ourselves as others see us. So long as +women don’t mock what matter? That’s the way to find out. Ask yourself +who is he now. _The Mystery Man on the Beach_, prize titbit story by Mr +Leopold Bloom. Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. And that +fellow today at the graveside in the brown macintosh. Corns on his +kismet however. Healthy perhaps absorb all the. Whistle brings rain +they say. Must be some somewhere. Salt in the Ormond damp. The body +feels the atmosphere. Old Betty’s joints are on the rack. Mother +Shipton’s prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the +twinkling. No. Signs of rain it is. The royal reader. And distant hills +seem coming nigh. + +Howth. Bailey light. Two, four, six, eight, nine. See. Has to change or +they might think it a house. Wreckers. Grace Darling. People afraid of +the dark. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Jewels diamonds +flash better. Women. Light is a kind of reassuring. Not going to hurt +you. Better now of course than long ago. Country roads. Run you through +the small guts for nothing. Still two types there are you bob against. +Scowl or smile. Pardon! Not at all. Best time to spray plants too in +the shade after the sun. Some light still. Red rays are longest. +Roygbiv Vance taught us: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, +violet. A star I see. Venus? Can’t tell yet. Two. When three it’s +night. Were those nightclouds there all the time? Looks like a phantom +ship. No. Wait. Trees are they? An optical illusion. Mirage. Land of +the setting sun this. Homerule sun setting in the southeast. My native +land, goodnight. + +Dew falling. Bad for you, dear, to sit on that stone. Brings on white +fluxions. Never have little baby then less he was big strong fight his +way up through. Might get piles myself. Sticks too like a summer cold, +sore on the mouth. Cut with grass or paper worst. Friction of the +position. Like to be that rock she sat on. O sweet little, you don’t +know how nice you looked. I begin to like them at that age. Green +apples. Grab at all that offer. Suppose it’s the only time we cross +legs, seated. Also the library today: those girl graduates. Happy +chairs under them. But it’s the evening influence. They feel all that. +Open like flowers, know their hours, sunflowers, Jerusalem artichokes, +in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the lamps. Nightstock in Mat +Dillon’s garden where I kissed her shoulder. Wish I had a full length +oilpainting of her then. June that was too I wooed. The year returns. +History repeats itself. Ye crags and peaks I’m with you once again. +Life, love, voyage round your own little world. And now? Sad about her +lame of course but must be on your guard not to feel too much pity. +They take advantage. + +All quiet on Howth now. The distant hills seem. Where we. The +rhododendrons. I am a fool perhaps. He gets the plums, and I the +plumstones. Where I come in. All that old hill has seen. Names change: +that’s all. Lovers: yum yum. + +Tired I feel now. Will I get up? O wait. Drained all the manhood out of +me, little wretch. She kissed me. Never again. My youth. Only once it +comes. Or hers. Take the train there tomorrow. No. Returning not the +same. Like kids your second visit to a house. The new I want. Nothing +new under the sun. Care of P. O. Dolphin’s Barn. Are you not happy in +your? Naughty darling. At Dolphin’s barn charades in Luke Doyle’s +house. Mat Dillon and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, +Louy, Hetty. Molly too. Eightyseven that was. Year before we. And the +old major, partial to his drop of spirits. Curious she an only child, I +an only child. So it returns. Think you’re escaping and run into +yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home. And just when he +and she. Circus horse walking in a ring. Rip van Winkle we played. Rip: +tear in Henny Doyle’s overcoat. Van: breadvan delivering. Winkle: +cockles and periwinkles. Then I did Rip van Winkle coming back. She +leaned on the sideboard watching. Moorish eyes. Twenty years asleep in +Sleepy Hollow. All changed. Forgotten. The young are old. His gun rusty +from the dew. + +Ba. What is that flying about? Swallow? Bat probably. Thinks I’m a +tree, so blind. Have birds no smell? Metempsychosis. They believed you +could be changed into a tree from grief. Weeping willow. Ba. There he +goes. Funny little beggar. Wonder where he lives. Belfry up there. Very +likely. Hanging by his heels in the odour of sanctity. Bell scared him +out, I suppose. Mass seems to be over. Could hear them all at it. Pray +for us. And pray for us. And pray for us. Good idea the repetition. +Same thing with ads. Buy from us. And buy from us. Yes, there’s the +light in the priest’s house. Their frugal meal. Remember about the +mistake in the valuation when I was in Thom’s. Twentyeight it is. Two +houses they have. Gabriel Conroy’s brother is curate. Ba. Again. Wonder +why they come out at night like mice. They’re a mixed breed. Birds are +like hopping mice. What frightens them, light or noise? Better sit +still. All instinct like the bird in drouth got water out of the end of +a jar by throwing in pebbles. Like a little man in a cloak he is with +tiny hands. Weeny bones. Almost see them shimmering, kind of a bluey +white. Colours depend on the light you see. Stare the sun for example +like the eagle then look at a shoe see a blotch blob yellowish. Wants +to stamp his trademark on everything. Instance, that cat this morning +on the staircase. Colour of brown turf. Say you never see them with +three colours. Not true. That half tabbywhite tortoiseshell in the +_City Arms_ with the letter em on her forehead. Body fifty different +colours. Howth a while ago amethyst. Glass flashing. That’s how that +wise man what’s his name with the burning glass. Then the heather goes +on fire. It can’t be tourists’ matches. What? Perhaps the sticks dry +rub together in the wind and light. Or broken bottles in the furze act +as a burning glass in the sun. Archimedes. I have it! My memory’s not +so bad. + +Ba. Who knows what they’re always flying for. Insects? That bee last +week got into the room playing with his shadow on the ceiling. Might be +the one bit me, come back to see. Birds too. Never find out. Or what +they say. Like our small talk. And says she and says he. Nerve they +have to fly over the ocean and back. Lots must be killed in storms, +telegraph wires. Dreadful life sailors have too. Big brutes of +oceangoing steamers floundering along in the dark, lowing out like +seacows. _Faugh a ballagh!_ Out of that, bloody curse to you! Others in +vessels, bit of a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a wake +when the stormy winds do blow. Married too. Sometimes away for years at +the ends of the earth somewhere. No ends really because it’s round. +Wife in every port they say. She has a good job if she minds it till +Johnny comes marching home again. If ever he does. Smelling the tail +end of ports. How can they like the sea? Yet they do. The anchor’s +weighed. Off he sails with a scapular or a medal on him for luck. Well. +And the tephilim no what’s this they call it poor papa’s father had on +his door to touch. That brought us out of the land of Egypt and into +the house of bondage. Something in all those superstitions because when +you go out never know what dangers. Hanging on to a plank or astride of +a beam for grim life, lifebelt round him, gulping salt water, and +that’s the last of his nibs till the sharks catch hold of him. Do fish +ever get seasick? + +Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud, smooth sea, placid, +crew and cargo in smithereens, Davy Jones’ locker, moon looking down so +peaceful. Not my fault, old cockalorum. + +A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from Mirus bazaar in search of +funds for Mercer’s hospital and broke, drooping, and shed a cluster of +violet but one white stars. They floated, fell: they faded. The +shepherd’s hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst. From house to +house, giving his everwelcome double knock, went the nine o’clock +postman, the glowworm’s lamp at his belt gleaming here and there +through the laurel hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted +lintstock lit the lamp at Leahy’s terrace. By screens of lighted +windows, by equal gardens a shrill voice went crying, wailing: _Evening +Telegraph, stop press edition! Result of the Gold Cup races!_ and from +the door of Dignam’s house a boy ran out and called. Twittering the bat +flew here, flew there. Far out over the sands the coming surf crept, +grey. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of yumyum +rhododendrons (he was old) and felt gladly the night breeze lift, +ruffle his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep +and slowly breathing, slumberous but awake. And far on Kish bank the +anchored lightship twinkled, winked at Mr Bloom. + +Life those chaps out there must have, stuck in the same spot. Irish +Lights board. Penance for their sins. Coastguards too. Rocket and +breeches buoy and lifeboat. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in +the Erin’s King, throwing them the sack of old papers. Bears in the +zoo. Filthy trip. Drunkards out to shake up their livers. Puking +overboard to feed the herrings. Nausea. And the women, fear of God in +their faces. Milly, no sign of funk. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. +Don’t know what death is at that age. And then their stomachs clean. +But being lost they fear. When we hid behind the tree at Crumlin. I +didn’t want to. Mamma! Mamma! Babes in the wood. Frightening them with +masks too. Throwing them up in the air to catch them. I’ll murder you. +Is it only half fun? Or children playing battle. Whole earnest. How can +people aim guns at each other. Sometimes they go off. Poor kids! Only +troubles wildfire and nettlerash. Calomel purge I got her for that. +After getting better asleep with Molly. Very same teeth she has. What +do they love? Another themselves? But the morning she chased her with +the umbrella. Perhaps so as not to hurt. I felt her pulse. Ticking. +Little hand it was: now big. Dearest Papli. All that the hand says when +you touch. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Her first stays I +remember. Made me laugh to see. Little paps to begin with. Left one is +more sensitive, I think. Mine too. Nearer the heart? Padding themselves +out if fat is in fashion. Her growing pains at night, calling, wakening +me. Frightened she was when her nature came on her first. Poor child! +Strange moment for the mother too. Brings back her girlhood. Gibraltar. +Looking from Buena Vista. O’Hara’s tower. The seabirds screaming. Old +Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. Sundown, gunfire for the men +to cross the lines. Looking out over the sea she told me. Evening like +this, but clear, no clouds. I always thought I’d marry a lord or a rich +gentleman coming with a private yacht. _Buenas noches, señorita. El +hombre ama la muchacha hermosa_. Why me? Because you were so foreign +from the others. + +Better not stick here all night like a limpet. This weather makes you +dull. Must be getting on for nine by the light. Go home. Too late for +_Leah, Lily of Killarney._ No. Might be still up. Call to the hospital +to see. Hope she’s over. Long day I’ve had. Martha, the bath, funeral, +house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus’ song. Then that +bawler in Barney Kiernan’s. Got my own back there. Drunken ranters what +I said about his God made him wince. Mistake to hit back. Or? No. Ought +to go home and laugh at themselves. Always want to be swilling in +company. Afraid to be alone like a child of two. Suppose he hit me. +Look at it other way round. Not so bad then. Perhaps not to hurt he +meant. Three cheers for Israel. Three cheers for the sister-in-law he +hawked about, three fangs in her mouth. Same style of beauty. +Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. The sister of the wife of +the wild man of Borneo has just come to town. Imagine that in the early +morning at close range. Everyone to his taste as Morris said when he +kissed the cow. But Dignam’s put the boots on it. Houses of mourning so +depressing because you never know. Anyhow she wants the money. Must +call to those Scottish Widows as I promised. Strange name. Takes it for +granted we’re going to pop off first. That widow on Monday was it +outside Cramer’s that looked at me. Buried the poor husband but +progressing favourably on the premium. Her widow’s mite. Well? What do +you expect her to do? Must wheedle her way along. Widower I hate to +see. Looks so forlorn. Poor man O’Connor wife and five children +poisoned by mussels here. The sewage. Hopeless. Some good matronly +woman in a porkpie hat to mother him. Take him in tow, platter face and +a large apron. Ladies’ grey flannelette bloomers, three shillings a +pair, astonishing bargain. Plain and loved, loved for ever, they say. +Ugly: no woman thinks she is. Love, lie and be handsome for tomorrow we +die. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out who played the +trick. U. p: up. Fate that is. He, not me. Also a shop often noticed. +Curse seems to dog it. Dreamt last night? Wait. Something confused. She +had red slippers on. Turkish. Wore the breeches. Suppose she does? +Would I like her in pyjamas? Damned hard to answer. Nannetti’s gone. +Mailboat. Near Holyhead by now. Must nail that ad of Keyes’s. Work +Hynes and Crawford. Petticoats for Molly. She has something to put in +them. What’s that? Might be money. + +Mr Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the strand. He +brought it near his eyes and peered. Letter? No. Can’t read. Better go. +Better. I’m tired to move. Page of an old copybook. All those holes and +pebbles. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Bottle with +story of a treasure in it, thrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Children +always want to throw things in the sea. Trust? Bread cast on the +waters. What’s this? Bit of stick. + +O! Exhausted that female has me. Not so young now. Will she come here +tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Must come back. Murderers +do. Will I? + +Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. Write +a message for her. Might remain. What? + +I. + +Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide +comes here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bend, see my face there, dark +mirror, breathe on it, stirs. All these rocks with lines and scars and +letters. O, those transparent! Besides they don’t know. What is the +meaning of that other world. I called you naughty boy because I do not +like. + +AM. A. + +No room. Let it go. + +Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. Hopeless thing sand. +Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here. +Except Guinness’s barges. Round the Kish in eighty days. Done half by +design. + +He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck. Now +if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn’t. Chance. +We’ll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbye, dear. Thanks. Made +me feel so young. + +Short snooze now if I had. Must be near nine. Liverpool boat long gone. +Not even the smoke. And she can do the other. Did too. And Belfast. I +won’t go. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a +moment. Won’t sleep, though. Half dream. It never comes the same. Bat +again. No harm in him. Just a few. + +O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me +do love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the bed +met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair +heave under embon _señorita_ young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan +Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail +end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return +next in her next her next. + +A bat flew. Here. There. Here. Far in the grey a bell chimed. Mr Bloom +with open mouth, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Just +for a few + + Cuckoo + Cuckoo + Cuckoo. + +The clock on the mantelpiece in the priest’s house cooed where Canon +O’Hanlon and Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S. J. were +taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup +and talking about + + Cuckoo + Cuckoo + Cuckoo. + +Because it was a little canarybird that came out of its little house to +tell the time that Gerty MacDowell noticed the time she was there +because she was as quick as anything about a thing like that, was Gerty +MacDowell, and she noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was +sitting on the rocks looking was + + Cuckoo + Cuckoo + Cuckoo. + + +[ 14 ] + +Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. + +Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send +us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us +bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. + +Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! + +Universally that person’s acumen is esteemed very little perceptive +concerning whatsoever matters are being held as most profitably by +mortals with sapience endowed to be studied who is ignorant of that +which the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that in +them high mind’s ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain +when by general consent they affirm that other circumstances being +equal by no exterior splendour is the prosperity of a nation more +efficaciously asserted than by the measure of how far forward may have +progressed the tribute of its solicitude for that proliferent +continuance which of evils the original if it be absent when +fortunately present constitutes the certain sign of omnipollent +nature’s incorrupted benefaction. For who is there who anything of some +significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior +splendour may be the surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or +on the contrary anyone so is there unilluminated as not to perceive +that as no nature’s boon can contend against the bounty of increase so +it behoves every most just citizen to become the exhortator and +admonisher of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past +been by the nation excellently commenced might be in the future not +with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have +gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to +that thither of profundity that that one was audacious excessively who +would have the hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence +can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel +simultaneously command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy +of abundance or with diminution’s menace that exalted of reiteratedly +procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined? + +It is not why therefore we shall wonder if, as the best historians +relate, among the Celts, who nothing that was not in its nature +admirable admired, the art of medicine shall have been highly honoured. +Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, +their greatest doctors, the O’Shiels, the O’Hickeys, the O’Lees, have +sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the +relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling +withering or loose boyconnell flux. Certainly in every public work +which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with +importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted +(whether by having preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it +is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent +inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest) +whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that +whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman hour chiefly +required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who +not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely +could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was +provided. + +To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be +molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent +mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received +eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the +case was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying +desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be +received into that domicile. O thing of prudent nation not merely in +being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that +they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly +to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt! + +Before born bliss babe had. Within womb won he worship. Whatever in +that one case done commodiously done was. A couch by midwives attended +with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though +forthbringing were now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no +less of what drugs there is need and surgical implements which are +pertaining to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting +spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together +with images, divine and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct +females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright +wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and +reproductitive, it is come by her thereto to lie in, her term up. + +Some man that wayfaring was stood by housedoor at night’s oncoming. Of +Israel’s folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. Stark +ruth of man his errand that him lone led till that house. + +Of that house A. Horne is lord. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming +mothers are wont that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hale +so God’s angel to Mary quoth. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters +in ward sleepless. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve +moons thrice an hundred. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for Horne +holding wariest ward. + +In ward wary the watcher hearing come that man mildhearted eft rising +with swire ywimpled to him her gate wide undid. Lo, levin leaping +lightens in eyeblink Ireland’s westward welkin. Full she drad that God +the Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his evil sins. +Christ’s rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe +infare under her thatch. That man her will wotting worthful went in +Horne’s house. + +Loth to irk in Horne’s hall hat holding the seeker stood. On her stow +he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over +land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Once her in +townhithe meeting he to her bow had not doffed. Her to forgive now he +craved with good ground of her allowed that that of him swiftseen face, +hers, so young then had looked. Light swift her eyes kindled, bloom of +blushes his word winning. + +As her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. Glad +after she was that ere adread was. Her he asked if O’Hare Doctor +tidings sent from far coast and she with grameful sigh him answered +that O’Hare Doctor in heaven was. Sad was the man that word to hear +that him so heavied in bowels ruthful. All she there told him, ruing +death for friend so young, algate sore unwilling God’s rightwiseness to +withsay. She said that he had a fair sweet death through God His +goodness with masspriest to be shriven, holy housel and sick men’s oil +to his limbs. The man then right earnest asked the nun of which death +the dead man was died and the nun answered him and said that he was +died in Mona Island through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas +and she prayed to God the Allruthful to have his dear soul in his +undeathliness. He heard her sad words, in held hat sad staring. So +stood they there both awhile in wanhope sorrowing one with other. + +Therefore, everyman, look to that last end that is thy death and the +dust that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came +naked forth from his mother’s womb so naked shall he wend him at the +last for to go as he came. + +The man that was come in to the house then spoke to the nursingwoman +and he asked her how it fared with the woman that lay there in +childbed. The nursingwoman answered him and said that that woman was in +throes now full three days and that it would be a hard birth unneth to +bear but that now in a little it would be. She said thereto that she +had seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that +woman’s birth. Then she set it all forth to him for because she knew +the man that time was had lived nigh that house. The man hearkened to +her words for he felt with wonder women’s woe in the travail that they +have of motherhood and he wondered to look on her face that was a fair +face for any man to see but yet was she left after long years a +handmaid. Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless. + +And whiles they spake the door of the castle was opened and there +nighed them a mickle noise as of many that sat there at meat. And there +came against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept +Dixon. And the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed +that they had had ado each with other in the house of misericord where +this learningknight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be +healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a +horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make a +salve of volatile salt and chrism as much as he might suffice. And he +said now that he should go in to that castle for to make merry with +them that were there. And the traveller Leopold said that he should go +otherwhither for he was a man of cautels and a subtile. Also the lady +was of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well +that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. But +the learningknight would not hear say nay nor do her mandement ne have +him in aught contrarious to his list and he said how it was a +marvellous castle. And the traveller Leopold went into the castle for +to rest him for a space being sore of limb after many marches +environing in divers lands and sometime venery. + +And in the castle was set a board that was of the birchwood of Finlandy +and it was upheld by four dwarfmen of that country but they durst not +move more for enchantment. And on this board were frightful swords and +knives that are made in a great cavern by swinking demons out of white +flames that they fix then in the horns of buffalos and stags that there +abound marvellously. And there were vessels that are wrought by magic +of Mahound out of seasand and the air by a warlock with his breath that +he blases in to them like to bubbles. And full fair cheer and rich was +on the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. And there +was a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in the which lay +strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be +possible thing without they see it natheless they are so. And these +fishes lie in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because of +the fatness that therein is like to the juices of the olivepress. And +also it was a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make a +compost out of fecund wheatkidneys out of Chaldee that by aid of +certain angry spirits that they do in to it swells up wondrously like +to a vast mountain. And they teach the serpents there to entwine +themselves up on long sticks out of the ground and of the scales of +these serpents they brew out a brewage like to mead. + +And the learning knight let pour for childe Leopold a draught and halp +thereto the while all they that were there drank every each. And childe +Leopold did up his beaver for to pleasure him and took apertly somewhat +in amity for he never drank no manner of mead which he then put by and +anon full privily he voided the more part in his neighbour glass and +his neighbour nist not of this wile. And he sat down in that castle +with them for to rest him there awhile. Thanked be Almighty God. + +This meanwhile this good sister stood by the door and begged them at +the reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave their wassailing +for there was above one quick with child, a gentle dame, whose time +hied fast. Sir Leopold heard on the upfloor cry on high and he wondered +what cry that it was whether of child or woman and I marvel, said he, +that it be not come or now. Meseems it dureth overlong. And he was ware +and saw a franklin that hight Lenehan on that side the table that was +older than any of the tother and for that they both were knights +virtuous in the one emprise and eke by cause that he was elder he spoke +to him full gently. But, said he, or it be long too she will bring +forth by God His bounty and have joy of her childing for she hath +waited marvellous long. And the franklin that had drunken said, +Expecting each moment to be her next. Also he took the cup that stood +tofore him for him needed never none asking nor desiring of him to +drink and, Now drink, said he, fully delectably, and he quaffed as far +as he might to their both’s health for he was a passing good man of his +lustiness. And sir Leopold that was the goodliest guest that ever sat +in scholars’ hall and that was the meekest man and the kindest that +ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was the very truest knight +of the world one that ever did minion service to lady gentle pledged +him courtly in the cup. Woman’s woe with wonder pondering. + +Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be +drunken an they might. There was a sort of scholars along either side +the board, that is to wit, Dixon yclept junior of saint Mary +Merciable’s with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, scholars of +medicine, and the franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa, +one Crotthers, and young Stephen that had mien of a frere that was at +head of the board and Costello that men clepen Punch Costello all long +of a mastery of him erewhile gested (and of all them, reserved young +Stephen, he was the most drunken that demanded still of more mead) and +beside the meek sir Leopold. But on young Malachi they waited for that +he promised to have come and such as intended to no goodness said how +he had broke his avow. And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast +friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for that +his languor becalmed him there after longest wanderings insomuch as +they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner. Ruth red +him, love led on with will to wander, loth to leave. + +For they were right witty scholars. And he heard their aresouns each +gen other as touching birth and righteousness, young Madden maintaining +that put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen +out a matter of some year agone with a woman of Eblana in Horne’s house +that now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next +before her death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her +case). And they said farther she should live because in the beginning, +they said, the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that +were of this imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for +he had conscience to let her die. And not few and of these was young +Lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it +was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the +law nor his judges did provide no remedy. A redress God grant. This was +scant said but all cried with one acclaim nay, by our Virgin Mother, +the wife should live and the babe to die. In colour whereof they waxed +hot upon that head what with argument and what for their drinking but +the franklin Lenehan was prompt each when to pour them ale so that at +the least way mirth might not lack. Then young Madden showed all the +whole affair and said how that she was dead and how for holy religion +sake by rede of palmer and bedesman and for a vow he had made to Saint +Ultan of Arbraccan her goodman husband would not let her death whereby +they were all wondrous grieved. To whom young Stephen had these words +following: Murmur, sirs, is eke oft among lay folk. Both babe and +parent now glorify their Maker, the one in limbo gloom, the other in +purgefire. But, gramercy, what of those Godpossibled souls that we +nightly impossibilise, which is the sin against the Holy Ghost, Very +God, Lord and Giver of Life? For, sirs, he said, our lust is brief. We +are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends +than we. Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist he what ends. +But he had overmuch drunken and the best word he could have of him was +that he would ever dishonest a woman whoso she were or wife or maid or +leman if it so fortuned him to be delivered of his spleen of lustihead. +Whereat Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young Malachi’s praise of that +beast the unicorn how once in the millennium he cometh by his horn, the +other all this while, pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they +did malice him, witnessing all and several by saint Foutinus his +engines that he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to +do. Thereat laughed they all right jocundly only young Stephen and sir +Leopold which never durst laugh too open by reason of a strange humour +which he would not bewray and also for that he rued for her that bare +whoso she might be or wheresoever. Then spake young Stephen orgulous of +mother Church that would cast him out of her bosom, of law of canons, +of Lilith, patron of abortions, of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of +brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, as Virgilius +saith, by the influence of the occident or by the reek of moonflower or +an she lie with a woman which her man has but lain with, _effectu +secuto_, or peradventure in her bath according to the opinions of +Averroes and Moses Maimonides. He said also how at the end of the +second month a human soul was infused and how in all our holy mother +foldeth ever souls for God’s greater glory whereas that earthly mother +which was but a dam to bear beastly should die by canon for so saith he +that holdeth the fisherman’s seal, even that blessed Peter on which +rock was holy church for all ages founded. All they bachelors then +asked of sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as +risk life to save life. A wariness of mind he would answer as fitted +all and, laying hand to jaw, he said dissembling, as his wont was, that +as it was informed him, who had ever loved the art of physic as might a +layman, and agreeing also with his experience of so seldomseen an +accident it was good for that mother Church belike at one blow had +birth and death pence and in such sort deliverly he scaped their +questions. That is truth, pardy, said Dixon, and, or I err, a pregnant +word. Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he +averred that he who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord for he +was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that +taking it appeared eftsoons. + +But sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word by cause he still had +pity of the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women in their labour and +as he was minded of his good lady Marion that had borne him an only +manchild which on his eleventh day on live had died and no man of art +could save so dark is destiny. And she was wondrous stricken of heart +for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of +lamb’s wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and +lie akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now sir +Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him +his friend’s son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness +and as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for +all accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure +for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and +murdered his goods with whores. + +About that present time young Stephen filled all cups that stood empty +so as there remained but little mo if the prudenter had not shadowed +their approach from him that still plied it very busily who, praying +for the intentions of the sovereign pontiff, he gave them for a pledge +the vicar of Christ which also as he said is vicar of Bray. Now drink +we, quod he, of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which is not indeed +parcel of my body but my soul’s bodiment. Leave ye fraction of bread to +them that live by bread alone. Be not afeard neither for any want for +this will comfort more than the other will dismay. See ye here. And he +showed them glistering coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the +worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he had, he said, for a song +which he writ. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such +dearth of money as was herebefore. His words were then these as +followeth: Know all men, he said, time’s ruins build eternity’s +mansions. What means this? Desire’s wind blasts the thorntree but after +it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. Mark +me now. In woman’s womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the +maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. +This is the postcreation. _Omnis caro ad te veniet_. No question but +her name is puissant who aventried the dear corse of our Agenbuyer, +Healer and Herd, our mighty mother and mother most venerable and +Bernardus saith aptly that She hath an _omnipotentiam deiparae +supplicem_, that is to wit, an almightiness of petition because she is +the second Eve and she won us, saith Augustine too, whereas that other, +our grandam, which we are linked up with by successive anastomosis of +navelcords sold us all, seed, breed and generation, for a penny pippin. +But here is the matter now. Or she knew him, that second I say, and was +but creature of her creature, _vergine madre, figlia di tuo figlio_, or +she knew him not and then stands she in the one denial or ignorancy +with Peter Piscator who lives in the house that Jack built and with +Joseph the joiner patron of the happy demise of all unhappy marriages, +_parceque M. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l’avait mise dans cette +fichue position c’était le sacré pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder_ +transubstantiality _oder_ consubstantiality but in no case +subsubstantiality. And all cried out upon it for a very scurvy word. A +pregnancy without joy, he said, a birth without pangs, a body without +blemish, a belly without bigness. Let the lewd with faith and fervour +worship. With will will we withstand, withsay. + +Hereupon Punch Costello dinged with his fist upon the board and would +sing a bawdy catch _Staboo Stabella_ about a wench that was put in pod +of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he did straightways now attack: +_The first three months she was not well, Staboo,_ when here nurse +Quigley from the door angerly bid them hist ye should shame you nor was +it not meet as she remembered them being her mind was to have all +orderly against lord Andrew came for because she was jealous that no +gasteful turmoil might shorten the honour of her guard. It was an +ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and christian walking, in +habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor did her +hortative want of it effect for incontinently Punch Costello was of +them all embraided and they reclaimed the churl with civil rudeness +some and shaked him with menace of blandishments others whiles they all +chode with him, a murrain seize the dolt, what a devil he would be at, +thou chuff, thou puny, thou got in peasestraw, thou losel, thou +chitterling, thou spawn of a rebel, thou dykedropt, thou abortion thou, +to shut up his drunken drool out of that like a curse of God ape, the +good sir Leopold that had for his cognisance the flower of quiet, +margerain gentle, advising also the time’s occasion as most sacred and +most worthy to be most sacred. In Horne’s house rest should reign. + +To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon of Mary in +Eccles, goodly grinning, asked young Stephen what was the reason why he +had not cided to take friar’s vows and he answered him obedience in the +womb, chastity in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his days. Master +Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds +and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue +of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all +intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. But he +said very entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was +the eternal son and ever virgin. Thereat mirth grew in them the more +and they rehearsed to him his curious rite of wedlock for the disrobing +and deflowering of spouses, as the priests use in Madagascar island, +she to be in guise of white and saffron, her groom in white and grain, +with burning of nard and tapers, on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries +and the anthem _Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium_ till she was +there unmaided. He gave them then a much admirable hymen minim by those +delicate poets Master John Fletcher and Master Francis Beaumont that is +in their _Maid’s Tragedy_ that was writ for a like twining of lovers: +_To bed, to bed_ was the burden of it to be played with accompanable +concent upon the virginals. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most +mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous +flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium +of connubial communion. Well met they were, said Master Dixon, joyed, +but, harkee, young sir, better were they named Beau Mount and Lecher +for, by my troth, of such a mingling much might come. Young Stephen +said indeed to his best remembrance they had but the one doxy between +them and she of the stews to make shift with in delights amorous for +life ran very high in those days and the custom of the country approved +with it. Greater love than this, he said, no man hath that a man lay +down his wife for his friend. Go thou and do likewise. Thus, or words +to that effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French +letters to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to +whom mankind was more beholden. Bring a stranger within thy tower it +will go hard but thou wilt have the secondbest bed. _Orate, fratres, +pro memetipso_. And all the people shall say, Amen. Remember, Erin, thy +generations and thy days of old, how thou settedst little by me and by +my word and broughtedst in a stranger to my gates to commit fornication +in my sight and to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum. Therefore hast thou +sinned against my light and hast made me, thy lord, to be the slave of +servants. Return, return, Clan Milly: forget me not, O Milesian. Why +hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for +a merchant of jalaps and didst deny me to the Roman and to the Indian +of dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie luxuriously? Look forth +now, my people, upon the land of behest, even from Horeb and from Nebo +and from Pisgah and from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with +milk and money. But thou hast suckled me with a bitter milk: my moon +and my sun thou hast quenched for ever. And thou hast left me alone for +ever in the dark ways of my bitterness: and with a kiss of ashes hast +thou kissed my mouth. This tenebrosity of the interior, he proceeded to +say, hath not been illumined by the wit of the septuagint nor so much +as mentioned for the Orient from on high which brake hell’s gates +visited a darkness that was foraneous. Assuefaction minorates +atrocities (as Tully saith of his darling Stoics) and Hamlet his father +showeth the prince no blister of combustion. The adiaphane in the noon +of life is an Egypt’s plague which in the nights of prenativity and +postmortemity is their most proper _ubi_ and _quomodo_. And as the ends +and ultimates of all things accord in some mean and measure with their +inceptions and originals, that same multiplicit concordance which leads +forth growth from birth accomplishing by a retrogressive metamorphosis +that minishing and ablation towards the final which is agreeable unto +nature so is it with our subsolar being. The aged sisters draw us into +life: we wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die: over +us dead they bend. First, saved from waters of old Nile, among +bulrushes, a bed of fasciated wattles: at last the cavity of a +mountain, an occulted sepulchre amid the conclamation of the hillcat +and the ossifrage. And as no man knows the ubicity of his tumulus nor +to what processes we shall thereby be ushered nor whether to Tophet or +to Edenville in the like way is all hidden when we would backward see +from what region of remoteness the whatness of our whoness hath fetched +his whenceness. + +Thereto Punch Costello roared out mainly _Etienne chanson_ but he +loudly bid them, lo, wisdom hath built herself a house, this vast +majestic longstablished vault, the crystal palace of the Creator, all +in applepie order, a penny for him who finds the pea. + + Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack + See the malt stored in many a refluent sack, + In the proud cirque of Jackjohn’s bivouac. + +A black crack of noise in the street here, alack, bawled back. Loud on +left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler. Came now the +storm that hist his heart. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to +flout and witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and +paganry. And he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as +they might all mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before +so haught uplift was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart +shook within the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that +storm. Then did some mock and some jeer and Punch Costello fell hard +again to his yale which Master Lenehan vowed he would do after and he +was indeed but a word and a blow on any the least colour. But the +braggart boaster cried that an old Nobodaddy was in his cups it was +muchwhat indifferent and he would not lag behind his lead. But this was +only to dye his desperation as cowed he crouched in Horne’s hall. He +drank indeed at one draught to pluck up a heart of any grace for it +thundered long rumblingly over all the heavens so that Master Madden, +being godly certain whiles, knocked him on his ribs upon that crack of +doom and Master Bloom, at the braggart’s side, spoke to him calming +words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it was no other thing +but a hubbub noise that he heard, the discharge of fluid from the +thunderhead, look you, having taken place, and all of the order of a +natural phenomenon. + +But was young Boasthard’s fear vanquished by Calmer’s words? No, for he +had in his bosom a spike named Bitterness which could not by words be +done away. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the +other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. But +could he not have endeavoured to have found again as in his youth the +bottle Holiness that then he lived withal? Indeed no for Grace was not +there to find that bottle. Heard he then in that clap the voice of the +god Bringforth or, what Calmer said, a hubbub of Phenomenon? Heard? +Why, he could not but hear unless he had plugged him up the tube +Understanding (which he had not done). For through that tube he saw +that he was in the land of Phenomenon where he must for a certain one +day die as he was like the rest too a passing show. And would he not +accept to die like the rest and pass away? By no means would he though +he must nor would he make more shows according as men do with wives +which Phenomenon has commanded them to do by the book Law. Then wotted +he nought of that other land which is called Believe-on-Me, that is the +land of promise which behoves to the king Delightful and shall be for +ever where there is no death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering +at which all shall come as many as believe on it? Yes, Pious had told +him of that land and Chaste had pointed him to the way but the reason +was that in the way he fell in with a certain whore of an eyepleasing +exterior whose name, she said, is Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him +wrongways from the true path by her flatteries that she said to him as, +Ho, you pretty man, turn aside hither and I will show you a brave +place, and she lay at him so flatteringly that she had him in her grot +which is named Two-in-the-Bush or, by some learned, Carnal +Concupiscence. + +This was it what all that company that sat there at commons in Manse of +Mothers the most lusted after and if they met with this whore +Bird-in-the-Hand (which was within all foul plagues, monsters and a +wicked devil) they would strain the last but they would make at her and +know her. For regarding Believe-on-Me they said it was nought else but +notion and they could conceive no thought of it for, first, +Two-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was the very goodliest grot and +in it were four pillows on which were four tickets with these words +printed on them, Pickaback and Topsyturvy and Shameface and Cheek by +Jowl and, second, for that foul plague Allpox and the monsters they +cared not for them for Preservative had given them a stout shield of +oxengut and, third, that they might take no hurt neither from Offspring +that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same shield which was +named Killchild. So were they all in their blind fancy, Mr Cavil and Mr +Sometimes Godly, Mr Ape Swillale, Mr False Franklin, Mr Dainty Dixon, +Young Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer. Wherein, O wretched company, +were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that was in a +very grievous rage that he would presently lift his arm up and spill +their souls for their abuses and their spillings done by them +contrariwise to his word which forth to bring brenningly biddeth. + +So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and +after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a +fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won’t sprout, fields +athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. +Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without +sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be without. The +rosy buds all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought +but dry flag and faggots that would catch at first fire. All the world +saying, for aught they knew, the big wind of last February a year that +did havoc the land so pitifully a small thing beside this barrenness. +But by and by, as said, this evening after sundown, the wind sitting in +the west, biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and +the weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first +and after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke with a long thunder +and in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the +smoking shower, the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or +kerchief, womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the +pour came. In Ely place, Baggot street, Duke’s lawn, thence through +Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was +before bonedry and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but no +more crack after that first. Over against the Rt. Hon. Mr Justice +Fitzgibbon’s door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the +college lands) Mal. Mulligan a gentleman’s gentleman that had but come +from Mr Moore’s the writer’s (that was a papish but is now, folk say, a +good Williamite) chanced against Alec. Bannon in a cut bob (which are +now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from +Mullingar with the stage where his coz and Mal M’s brother will stay a +month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does there, +he bound home and he to Andrew Horne’s being stayed for to crush a cup +of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of +her age and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain and +so both together on to Horne’s. There Leop. Bloom of Crawford’s journal +sitting snug with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon +jun., scholar of my lady of Mercy’s, Vin. Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will. +Madden, T. Lenehan, very sad about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. +Leop. Bloom there for a languor he had but was now better, he having +dreamed tonight a strange fancy of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers +on in a pair of Turkey trunks which is thought by those in ken to be +for a change and Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading +her belly, and now on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, +the midwives sore put to it and can’t deliver, she queasy for a bowl of +riceslop that is a shrewd drier up of the insides and her breath very +heavy more than good and should be a bullyboy from the knocks, they +say, but God give her soon issue. ’Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, +and Lady day bit off her last chick’s nails that was then a twelvemonth +and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand +in the king’s bible. Her hub fifty odd and a methodist but takes the +sacrament and is to be seen any fair sabbath with a pair of his boys +off Bullock harbour dapping on the sound with a heavybraked reel or in +a punt he has trailing for flounder and pollock and catches a fine bag, +I hear. In sum an infinite great fall of rain and all refreshed and +will much increase the harvest yet those in ken say after wind and +water fire shall come for a prognostication of Malachi’s almanac (and I +hear that Mr Russell has done a prophetical charm of the same gist out +of the Hindustanish for his farmer’s gazette) to have three things in +all but this a mere fetch without bottom of reason for old crones and +bairns yet sometimes they are found in the right guess with their +queerities no telling how. + +With this came up Lenehan to the feet of the table to say how the +letter was in that night’s gazette and he made a show to find it about +him (for he swore with an oath that he had been at pains about it) but +on Stephen’s persuasion he gave over the search and was bidden to sit +near by which he did mighty brisk. He was a kind of sport gentleman +that went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of +women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had it pat. To tell the truth he +was mean in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the +coffeehouses and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul’s men, +runners, flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the bagnio and other rogues +of the game or with a chanceable catchpole or a tipstaff often at +nights till broad day of whom he picked up between his sackpossets much +loose gossip. He took his ordinary at a boilingcook’s and if he had but +gotten into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of tripes with a +bare tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his +tongue, some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every +mother’s son of them would burst their sides. The other, Costello that +is, hearing this talk asked was it poetry or a tale. Faith, no, he +says, Frank (that was his name), ’tis all about Kerry cows that are to +be butchered along of the plague. But they can go hang, says he with a +wink, for me with their bully beef, a pox on it. There’s as good fish +in this tin as ever came out of it and very friendly he offered to take +of some salty sprats that stood by which he had eyed wishly in the +meantime and found the place which was indeed the chief design of his +embassy as he was sharpset. _Mort aux vaches_, says Frank then in the +French language that had been indentured to a brandyshipper that has a +winelodge in Bordeaux and he spoke French like a gentleman too. From a +child this Frank had been a donought that his father, a headborough, +who could ill keep him to school to learn his letters and the use of +the globes, matriculated at the university to study the mechanics but +he took the bit between his teeth like a raw colt and was more familiar +with the justiciary and the parish beadle than with his volumes. One +time he would be a playactor, then a sutler or a welsher, then nought +would keep him from the bearpit and the cocking main, then he was for +the ocean sea or to hoof it on the roads with the romany folk, +kidnapping a squire’s heir by favour of moonlight or fecking maids’ +linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. He had been off as many times +as a cat has lives and back again with naked pockets as many more to +his father the headborough who shed a pint of tears as often as he saw +him. What, says Mr Leopold with his hands across, that was earnest to +know the drift of it, will they slaughter all? I protest I saw them but +this day morning going to the Liverpool boats, says he. I can scarce +believe ’tis so bad, says he. And he had experience of the like brood +beasts and of springers, greasy hoggets and wether wool, having been +some years before actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe, a worthy salesmaster +that drove his trade for live stock and meadow auctions hard by Mr +Gavin Low’s yard in Prussia street. I question with you there, says he. +More like ’tis the hoose or the timber tongue. Mr Stephen, a little +moved but very handsomely told him no such matter and that he had +dispatches from the emperor’s chief tailtickler thanking him for the +hospitality, that was sending over Doctor Rinderpest, the bestquoted +cowcatcher in all Muscovy, with a bolus or two of physic to take the +bull by the horns. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing. He’ll +find himself on the horns of a dilemma if he meddles with a bull that’s +Irish, says he. Irish by name and irish by nature, says Mr Stephen, and +he sent the ale purling about, an Irish bull in an English chinashop. I +conceive you, says Mr Dixon. It is that same bull that was sent to our +island by farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattlebreeder of them all, with +an emerald ring in his nose. True for you, says Mr Vincent cross the +table, and a bullseye into the bargain, says he, and a plumper and a +portlier bull, says he, never shit on shamrock. He had horns galore, a +coat of cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of his +nostrils so that the women of our island, leaving doughballs and +rollingpins, followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains. +What for that, says Mr Dixon, but before he came over farmer Nicholas +that was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a college of doctors who +were no better off than himself. So be off now, says he, and do all my +cousin german the lord Harry tells you and take a farmer’s blessing, +and with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. But the slap and +the blessing stood him friend, says Mr Vincent, for to make up he +taught him a trick worth two of the other so that maid, wife, abbess +and widow to this day affirm that they would rather any time of the +month whisper in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the +nape from his long holy tongue than lie with the finest strapping young +ravisher in the four fields of all Ireland. Another then put in his +word: And they dressed him, says he, in a point shift and petticoat +with a tippet and girdle and ruffles on his wrists and clipped his +forelock and rubbed him all over with spermacetic oil and built stables +for him at every turn of the road with a gold manger in each full of +the best hay in the market so that he could doss and dung to his +heart’s content. By this time the father of the faithful (for so they +called him) was grown so heavy that he could scarce walk to pasture. To +remedy which our cozening dames and damsels brought him his fodder in +their apronlaps and as soon as his belly was full he would rear up on +his hind quarters to show their ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow +out of him in bulls’ language and they all after him. Ay, says another, +and so pampered was he that he would suffer nought to grow in all the +land but green grass for himself (for that was the only colour to his +mind) and there was a board put up on a hillock in the middle of the +island with a printed notice, saying: By the Lord Harry, Green is the +grass that grows on the ground. And, says Mr Dixon, if ever he got +scent of a cattleraider in Roscommon or the wilds of Connemara or a +husbandman in Sligo that was sowing as much as a handful of mustard or +a bag of rapeseed out he’d run amok over half the countryside rooting +up with his horns whatever was planted and all by lord Harry’s orders. +There was bad blood between them at first, says Mr Vincent, and the +lord Harry called farmer Nicholas all the old Nicks in the world and an +old whoremaster that kept seven trulls in his house and I’ll meddle in +his matters, says he. I’ll make that animal smell hell, says he, with +the help of that good pizzle my father left me. But one evening, says +Mr Dixon, when the lord Harry was cleaning his royal pelt to go to +dinner after winning a boatrace (he had spade oars for himself but the +first rule of the course was that the others were to row with +pitchforks) he discovered in himself a wonderful likeness to a bull and +on picking up a blackthumbed chapbook that he kept in the pantry he +found sure enough that he was a lefthanded descendant of the famous +champion bull of the Romans, _Bos Bovum_, which is good bog Latin for +boss of the show. After that, says Mr Vincent, the lord Harry put his +head into a cow’s drinkingtrough in the presence of all his courtiers +and pulling it out again told them all his new name. Then, with the +water running off him, he got into an old smock and skirt that had +belonged to his grandmother and bought a grammar of the bulls’ language +to study but he could never learn a word of it except the first +personal pronoun which he copied out big and got off by heart and if +ever he went out for a walk he filled his pockets with chalk to write +it upon what took his fancy, the side of a rock or a teahouse table or +a bale of cotton or a corkfloat. In short, he and the bull of Ireland +were soon as fast friends as an arse and a shirt. They were, says Mr +Stephen, and the end was that the men of the island seeing no help was +toward, as the ungrate women were all of one mind, made a wherry raft, +loaded themselves and their bundles of chattels on shipboard, set all +masts erect, manned the yards, sprang their luff, heaved to, spread +three sheets in the wind, put her head between wind and water, weighed +anchor, ported her helm, ran up the jolly Roger, gave three times +three, let the bullgine run, pushed off in their bumboat and put to sea +to recover the main of America. Which was the occasion, says Mr +Vincent, of the composing by a boatswain of that rollicking chanty: + +_—Pope Peter’s but a pissabed. + +A man’s a man for a’ that._ + +Our worthy acquaintance Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the doorway +as the students were finishing their apologue accompanied with a friend +whom he had just rencountered, a young gentleman, his name Alec Bannon, +who had late come to town, it being his intention to buy a colour or a +cornetcy in the fencibles and list for the wars. Mr Mulligan was civil +enough to express some relish of it all the more as it jumped with a +project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched +on. Whereat he handed round to the company a set of pasteboard cards +which he had had printed that day at Mr Quinnell’s bearing a legend +printed in fair italics: _Mr Malachi Mulligan. Fertiliser and +Incubator. Lambay Island_. His project, as he went on to expound, was +to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief +business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and +to devote himself to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has +been framed. Well, let us hear of it, good my friend, said Mr Dixon. I +make no doubt it smacks of wenching. Come, be seated, both. ’Tis as +cheap sitting as standing. Mr Mulligan accepted of the invitation and, +expatiating upon his design, told his hearers that he had been led into +this thought by a consideration of the causes of sterility, both the +inhibitory and the prohibitory, whether the inhibition in its turn were +due to conjugal vexations or to a parsimony of the balance as well as +whether the prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from +proclivities acquired. It grieved him plaguily, he said, to see the +nuptial couch defrauded of its dearest pledges: and to reflect upon so +many agreeable females with rich jointures, a prey to the vilest +bonzes, who hide their flambeau under a bushel in an uncongenial +cloister or lose their womanly bloom in the embraces of some +unaccountable muskin when they might multiply the inlets of happiness, +sacrificing the inestimable jewel of their sex when a hundred pretty +fellows were at hand to caress, this, he assured them, made his heart +weep. To curb this inconvenient (which he concluded due to a +suppression of latent heat), having advised with certain counsellors of +worth and inspected into this matter, he had resolved to purchase in +fee simple for ever the freehold of Lambay island from its holder, lord +Talbot de Malahide, a Tory gentleman of note much in favour with our +ascendancy party. He proposed to set up there a national fertilising +farm to be named _Omphalos_ with an obelisk hewn and erected after the +fashion of Egypt and to offer his dutiful yeoman services for the +fecundation of any female of what grade of life soever who should there +direct to him with the desire of fulfilling the functions of her +natural. Money was no object, he said, nor would he take a penny for +his pains. The poorest kitchenwench no less than the opulent lady of +fashion, if so be their constructions and their tempers were warm +persuaders for their petitions, would find in him their man. For his +nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet +of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the flesh of these +latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both +broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum +chillies. After this homily which he delivered with much warmth of +asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief +with which he had shielded it. They both, it seems, had been overtaken +by the rain and for all their mending their pace had taken water, as +might be observed by Mr Mulligan’s smallclothes of a hodden grey which +was now somewhat piebald. His project meanwhile was very favourably +entertained by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all though Mr +Dixon of Mary’s excepted to it, asking with a finicking air did he +purpose also to carry coals to Newcastle. Mr Mulligan however made +court to the scholarly by an apt quotation from the classics which, as +it dwelt upon his memory, seemed to him a sound and tasteful support of +his contention: _Talis ac tanta depravatio hujus seculi, O quirites, ut +matresfamiliarum nostrae lascivas cujuslibet semiviri libici +titillationes testibus ponderosis atque excelsis erectionibus +centurionum Romanorum magnopere anteponunt_, while for those of ruder +wit he drove home his point by analogies of the animal kingdom more +suitable to their stomach, the buck and doe of the forest glade, the +farmyard drake and duck. + +Valuing himself not a little upon his elegance, being indeed a proper +man of person, this talkative now applied himself to his dress with +animadversions of some heat upon the sudden whimsy of the atmospherics +while the company lavished their encomiums upon the project he had +advanced. The young gentleman, his friend, overjoyed as he was at a +passage that had late befallen him, could not forbear to tell it his +nearest neighbour. Mr Mulligan, now perceiving the table, asked for +whom were those loaves and fishes and, seeing the stranger, he made him +a civil bow and said, Pray, sir, was you in need of any professional +assistance we could give? Who, upon his offer, thanked him very +heartily, though preserving his proper distance, and replied that he +was come there about a lady, now an inmate of Horne’s house, that was +in an interesting condition, poor body, from woman’s woe (and here he +fetched a deep sigh) to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Mr +Dixon, to turn the table, took on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether +his incipient ventripotence, upon which he rallied him, betokened an +ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, +as with the noted physician, Mr Austin Meldon, to a wolf in the +stomach. For answer Mr Mulligan, in a gale of laughter at his smalls, +smote himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an admirable +droll mimic of Mother Grogan (the most excellent creature of her sex +though ’tis pity she’s a trollop): There’s a belly that never bore a +bastard. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth +and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. +The spry rattle had run on in the same vein of mimicry but for some +larum in the antechamber. + +Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch student, a little +fume of a fellow, blond as tow, congratulated in the liveliest fashion +with the young gentleman and, interrupting the narrative at a salient +point, having desired his visavis with a polite beck to have the +obligingness to pass him a flagon of cordial waters at the same time by +a questioning poise of the head (a whole century of polite breeding had +not achieved so nice a gesture) to which was united an equivalent but +contrary balance of the bottle asked the narrator as plainly as was +ever done in words if he might treat him with a cup of it. _Mais bien +sûr_, noble stranger, said he cheerily, _et mille compliments_. That +you may and very opportunely. There wanted nothing but this cup to +crown my felicity. But, gracious heaven, was I left with but a crust in +my wallet and a cupful of water from the well, my God, I would accept +of them and find it in my heart to kneel down upon the ground and give +thanks to the powers above for the happiness vouchsafed me by the Giver +of good things. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips, +took a complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and, opening +his bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband, that very +picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. +Gazing upon those features with a world of tenderness, Ah, Monsieur, he +said, had you but beheld her as I did with these eyes at that affecting +instant with her dainty tucker and her new coquette cap (a gift for her +feastday as she told me prettily) in such an artless disorder, of so +melting a tenderness, ’pon my conscience, even you, Monsieur, had been +impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the hands +of such an enemy or to quit the field for ever. I declare, I was never +so touched in all my life. God, I thank thee, as the Author of my days! +Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her +favours. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having +replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again. +Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures, how great +and universal must be that sweetest of Thy tyrannies which can hold in +thrall the free and the bond, the simple swain and the polished +coxcomb, the lover in the heyday of reckless passion and the husband of +maturer years. But indeed, sir, I wander from the point. How mingled +and imperfect are all our sublunary joys. Maledicity! he exclaimed in +anguish. Would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my +cloak along! I could weep to think of it. Then, though it had poured +seven showers, we were neither of us a penny the worse. But beshrew me, +he cried, clapping hand to his forehead, tomorrow will be a new day +and, thousand thunders, I know of a _marchand de capotes_, Monsieur +Poyntz, from whom I can have for a _livre_ as snug a cloak of the +French fashion as ever kept a lady from wetting. Tut, tut! cries Le +Fécondateur, tripping in, my friend Monsieur Moore, that most +accomplished traveller (I have just cracked a half bottle _avec lui_ in +a circle of the best wits of the town), is my authority that in Cape +Horn, _ventre biche_, they have a rain that will wet through any, even +the stoutest cloak. A drenching of that violence, he tells me, _sans +blague_, has sent more than one luckless fellow in good earnest +posthaste to another world. Pooh! A _livre!_ cries Monsieur Lynch. The +clumsy things are dear at a sou. One umbrella, were it no bigger than a +fairy mushroom, is worth ten such stopgaps. No woman of any wit would +wear one. My dear Kitty told me today that she would dance in a deluge +before ever she would starve in such an ark of salvation for, as she +reminded me (blushing piquantly and whispering in my ear though there +was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies), dame Nature, by the +divine blessing, has implanted it in our hearts and it has become a +household word that _il y a deux choses_ for which the innocence of our +original garb, in other circumstances a breach of the proprieties, is +the fittest, nay, the only garment. The first, said she (and here my +pretty philosopher, as I handed her to her tilbury, to fix my +attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear), +the first is a bath... But at this point a bell tinkling in the hall +cut short a discourse which promised so bravely for the enrichment of +our store of knowledge. + +Amid the general vacant hilarity of the assembly a bell rang and, while +all were conjecturing what might be the cause, Miss Callan entered and, +having spoken a few words in a low tone to young Mr Dixon, retired with +a profound bow to the company. The presence even for a moment among a +party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and +not less severe than beautiful refrained the humourous sallies even of +the most licentious but her departure was the signal for an outbreak of +ribaldry. Strike me silly, said Costello, a low fellow who was fuddled. +A monstrous fine bit of cowflesh! I’ll be sworn she has rendezvoused +you. What, you dog? Have you a way with them? Gad’s bud, immensely so, +said Mr Lynch. The bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater +hospice. Demme, does not Doctor O’Gargle chuck the nuns there under the +chin. As I look to be saved I had it from my Kitty who has been +wardmaid there any time these seven months. Lawksamercy, doctor, cried +the young blood in the primrose vest, feigning a womanish simper and +with immodest squirmings of his body, how you do tease a body! Drat the +man! Bless me, I’m all of a wibbly wobbly. Why, you’re as bad as dear +little Father Cantekissem, that you are! May this pot of four half +choke me, cried Costello, if she aint in the family way. I knows a lady +what’s got a white swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. The young +surgeon, however, rose and begged the company to excuse his retreat as +the nurse had just then informed him that he was needed in the ward. +Merciful providence had been pleased to put a period to the sufferings +of the lady who was _enceinte_ which she had borne with a laudable +fortitude and she had given birth to a bouncing boy. I want patience, +said he, with those who, without wit to enliven or learning to +instruct, revile an ennobling profession which, saving the reverence +due to the Deity, is the greatest power for happiness upon the earth. I +am positive when I say that if need were I could produce a cloud of +witnesses to the excellence of her noble exercitations which, so far +from being a byword, should be a glorious incentive in the human +breast. I cannot away with them. What? Malign such an one, the amiable +Miss Callan, who is the lustre of her own sex and the astonishment of +ours? And at an instant the most momentous that can befall a puny child +of clay? Perish the thought! I shudder to think of the future of a race +where the seeds of such malice have been sown and where no right +reverence is rendered to mother and maid in house of Horne. Having +delivered himself of this rebuke he saluted those present on the by and +repaired to the door. A murmur of approval arose from all and some were +for ejecting the low soaker without more ado, a design which would have +been effected nor would he have received more than his bare deserts had +he not abridged his transgression by affirming with a horrid +imprecation (for he swore a round hand) that he was as good a son of +the true fold as ever drew breath. Stap my vitals, said he, them was +always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I was bred up most +particular to honour thy father and thy mother that had the best hand +to a rolypoly or a hasty pudding as you ever see what I always looks +back on with a loving heart. + +To revert to Mr Bloom who, after his first entry, had been conscious of +some impudent mocks which he however had borne with as being the fruits +of that age upon which it is commonly charged that it knows not pity. +The young sparks, it is true, were as full of extravagancies as +overgrown children: the words of their tumultuary discussions were +difficultly understood and not often nice: their testiness and +outrageous _mots_ were such that his intellects resiled from: nor were +they scrupulously sensible of the proprieties though their fund of +strong animal spirits spoke in their behalf. But the word of Mr +Costello was an unwelcome language for him for he nauseated the wretch +that seemed to him a cropeared creature of a misshapen gibbosity, born +out of wedlock and thrust like a crookback toothed and feet first into +the world, which the dint of the surgeon’s pliers in his skull lent +indeed a colour to, so as to put him in thought of that missing link of +creation’s chain desiderated by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. It was +now for more than the middle span of our allotted years that he had +passed through the thousand vicissitudes of existence and, being of a +wary ascendancy and self a man of rare forecast, he had enjoined his +heart to repress all motions of a rising choler and, by intercepting +them with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast that +plenitude of sufferance which base minds jeer at, rash judgers scorn +and all find tolerable and but tolerable. To those who create +themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy (a habit of mind which +he never did hold with) to them he would concede neither to bear the +name nor to herit the tradition of a proper breeding: while for such +that, having lost all forbearance, can lose no more, there remained the +sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to beat a +precipitate and inglorious retreat. Not but what he could feel with +mettlesome youth which, caring nought for the mows of dotards or the +gruntlings of the severe, is ever (as the chaste fancy of the Holy +Writer expresses it) for eating of the tree forbid it yet not so far +forth as to pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a +gentlewoman when she was about her lawful occasions. To conclude, while +from the sister’s words he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was, +however, it must be owned, not a little alleviated by the intelligence +that the issue so auspicated after an ordeal of such duress now +testified once more to the mercy as well as to the bounty of the +Supreme Being. + +Accordingly he broke his mind to his neighbour, saying that, to express +his notion of the thing, his opinion (who ought not perchance to +express one) was that one must have a cold constitution and a frigid +genius not to be rejoiced by this freshest news of the fruition of her +confinement since she had been in such pain through no fault of hers. +The dressy young blade said it was her husband’s that put her in that +expectation or at least it ought to be unless she were another Ephesian +matron. I must acquaint you, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the table +so as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum +was round again today, an elderly man with dundrearies, preferring +through his nose a request to have word of Wilhelmina, my life, as he +calls her. I bade him hold himself in readiness for that the event +would burst anon. ’Slife, I’ll be round with you. I cannot but extol +the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another +child out of her. All fell to praising of it, each after his own +fashion, though the same young blade held with his former view that +another than her conjugial had been the man in the gap, a clerk in +orders, a linkboy (virtuous) or an itinerant vendor of articles needed +in every household. Singular, communed the guest with himself, the +wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis possessed by them, that +the puerperal dormitory and the dissecting theatre should be the +seminaries of such frivolity, that the mere acquisition of academic +titles should suffice to transform in a pinch of time these votaries of +levity into exemplary practitioners of an art which most men anywise +eminent have esteemed the noblest. But, he further added, it is mayhap +to relieve the pentup feelings that in common oppress them for I have +more than once observed that birds of a feather laugh together. + +But with what fitness, let it be asked of the noble lord, his patron, +has this alien, whom the concession of a gracious prince has admitted +to civic rights, constituted himself the lord paramount of our internal +polity? Where is now that gratitude which loyalty should have +counselled? During the recent war whenever the enemy had a temporary +advantage with his granados did this traitor to his kind not seize that +moment to discharge his piece against the empire of which he is a +tenant at will while he trembled for the security of his four per +cents? Has he forgotten this as he forgets all benefits received? Or is +it that from being a deluder of others he has become at last his own +dupe as he is, if report belie him not, his own and his only enjoyer? +Far be it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a respectable lady, +the daughter of a gallant major, or to cast the most distant +reflections upon her virtue but if he challenges attention there (as it +was indeed highly his interest not to have done) then be it so. Unhappy +woman, she has been too long and too persistently denied her legitimate +prerogative to listen to his objurgations with any other feeling than +the derision of the desperate. He says this, a censor of morals, a very +pelican in his piety, who did not scruple, oblivious of the ties of +nature, to attempt illicit intercourse with a female domestic drawn +from the lowest strata of society! Nay, had the hussy’s scouringbrush +not been her tutelary angel, it had gone with her as hard as with +Hagar, the Egyptian! In the question of the grazing lands his peevish +asperity is notorious and in Mr Cuffe’s hearing brought upon him from +an indignant rancher a scathing retort couched in terms as +straightforward as they were bucolic. It ill becomes him to preach that +gospel. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies fallow for the +want of the ploughshare? A habit reprehensible at puberty is second +nature and an opprobrium in middle life. If he must dispense his balm +of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore to +health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist +better with the doctrines that now engross him. His marital breast is +the repository of secrets which decorum is reluctant to adduce. The +lewd suggestions of some faded beauty may console him for a consort +neglected and debauched but this new exponent of morals and healer of +ills is at his best an exotic tree which, when rooted in its native +orient, throve and flourished and was abundant in balm but, +transplanted to a clime more temperate, its roots have lost their +quondam vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnant, +acid and inoperative. + +The news was imparted with a circumspection recalling the ceremonial +usage of the Sublime Porte by the second female infirmarian to the +junior medical officer in residence, who in his turn announced to the +delegation that an heir had been born. When he had betaken himself to +the women’s apartment to assist at the prescribed ceremony of the +afterbirth in the presence of the secretary of state for domestic +affairs and the members of the privy council, silent in unanimous +exhaustion and approbation the delegates, chafing under the length and +solemnity of their vigil and hoping that the joyful occurrence would +palliate a licence which the simultaneous absence of abigail and +obstetrician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a strife of +tongues. In vain the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring +to urge, to mollify, to refrain. The moment was too propitious for the +display of that discursiveness which seemed the only bond of union +among tempers so divergent. Every phase of the situation was +successively eviscerated: the prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers, +the Caesarean section, posthumity with respect to the father and, that +rarer form, with respect to the mother, the fratricidal case known as +the Childs Murder and rendered memorable by the impassioned plea of Mr +Advocate Bushe which secured the acquittal of the wrongfully accused, +the rights of primogeniture and king’s bounty touching twins and +triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the +acardiac _foetus in foetu_ and aprosopia due to a congestion, the +agnathia of certain chinless Chinamen (cited by Mr Candidate Mulligan) +in consequence of defective reunion of the maxillary knobs along the +medial line so that (as he said) one ear could hear what the other +spoke, the benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleep, the prolongation +of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure on the +vein, the premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as exemplified in +the actual case) with consequent peril of sepsis to the matrix, +artificial insemination by means of syringes, involution of the womb +consequent upon the menopause, the problem of the perpetration of the +species in the case of females impregnated by delinquent rape, that +distressing manner of delivery called by the Brandenburghers +_Sturzgeburt,_ the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and +monstrous births conceived during the catamenic period or of +consanguineous parents—in a word all the cases of human nativity which +Aristotle has classified in his masterpiece with chromolithographic +illustrations. The gravest problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine +were examined with as much animation as the most popular beliefs on the +state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to a gravid woman to step +over a countrystile lest, by her movement, the navelcord should +strangle her creature and the injunction upon her in the event of a +yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to place her hand +against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the +seat of castigation. The abnormalities of harelip, breastmole, +supernumerary digits, negro’s inkle, strawberry mark and portwine stain +were alleged by one as a _prima facie_ and natural hypothetical +explanation of those swineheaded (the case of Madame Grissel Steevens +was not forgotten) or doghaired infants occasionally born. The +hypothesis of a plasmic memory, advanced by the Caledonian envoy and +worthy of the metaphysical traditions of the land he stood for, +envisaged in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some +stage antecedent to the human. An outlandish delegate sustained against +both these views, with such heat as almost carried conviction, the +theory of copulation between women and the males of brutes, his +authority being his own avouchment in support of fables such as that of +the Minotaur which the genius of the elegant Latin poet has handed down +to us in the pages of his Metamorphoses. The impression made by his +words was immediate but shortlived. It was effaced as easily as it had +been evoked by an allocution from Mr Candidate Mulligan in that vein of +pleasantry which none better than he knew how to affect, postulating as +the supremest object of desire a nice clean old man. Contemporaneously, +a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr +Candidate Lynch regarding the juridical and theological dilemma created +in the event of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other, the difficulty +by mutual consent was referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant +submittal to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. Hitherto silent, whether the +better to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the +garb with which he was invested or in obedience to an inward voice, he +delivered briefly and, as some thought, perfunctorily the +ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to put asunder what God has +joined. + +But Malachias’ tale began to freeze them with horror. He conjured up +the scene before them. The secret panel beside the chimney slid back +and in the recess appeared... Haines! Which of us did not feel his +flesh creep! He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand, +in the other a phial marked _Poison._ Surprise, horror, loathing were +depicted on all faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. I +anticipated some such reception, he began with an eldritch laugh, for +which, it seems, history is to blame. Yes, it is true. I am the +murderer of Samuel Childs. And how I am punished! The inferno has no +terrors for me. This is the appearance is on me. Tare and ages, what +way would I be resting at all, he muttered thickly, and I tramping +Dublin this while back with my share of songs and himself after me the +like of a soulth or a bullawurrus? My hell, and Ireland’s, is in this +life. It is what I tried to obliterate my crime. Distractions, +rookshooting, the Erse language (he recited some), laudanum (he raised +the phial to his lips), camping out. In vain! His spectre stalks me. +Dope is my only hope... Ah! Destruction! The black panther! With a cry +he suddenly vanished and the panel slid back. An instant later his head +appeared in the door opposite and said: Meet me at Westland Row station +at ten past eleven. He was gone. Tears gushed from the eyes of the +dissipated host. The seer raised his hand to heaven, murmuring: The +vendetta of Mananaun! The sage repeated: _Lex talionis_. The +sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense +debtorship for a thing done. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. +The mystery was unveiled. Haines was the third brother. His real name +was Childs. The black panther was himself the ghost of his own father. +He drank drugs to obliterate. For this relief much thanks. The lonely +house by the graveyard is uninhabited. No soul will live there. The +spider pitches her web in the solitude. The nocturnal rat peers from +his hole. A curse is on it. It is haunted. Murderer’s ground. + +What is the age of the soul of man? As she hath the virtue of the +chameleon to change her hue at every new approach, to be gay with the +merry and mournful with the downcast, so too is her age changeable as +her mood. No longer is Leopold, as he sits there, ruminating, chewing +the cud of reminiscence, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a +modest substance in the funds. A score of years are blown away. He is +young Leopold. There, as in a retrospective arrangement, a mirror +within a mirror (hey, presto!), he beholdeth himself. That young figure +of then is seen, precociously manly, walking on a nipping morning from +the old house in Clanbrassil street to the high school, his booksatchel +on him bandolierwise, and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a +mother’s thought. Or it is the same figure, a year or so gone over, in +his first hard hat (ah, that was a day!), already on the road, a +fullfledged traveller for the family firm, equipped with an orderbook, +a scented handkerchief (not for show only), his case of bright +trinketware (alas! a thing now of the past!) and a quiverful of +compliant smiles for this or that halfwon housewife reckoning it out +upon her fingertips or for a budding virgin, shyly acknowledging (but +the heart? tell me!) his studied baisemoins. The scent, the smile, but, +more than these, the dark eyes and oleaginous address, brought home at +duskfall many a commission to the head of the firm, seated with Jacob’s +pipe after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you +may be sure, is aheating), reading through round horned spectacles some +paper from the Europe of a month before. But hey, presto, the mirror is +breathed on and the young knighterrant recedes, shrivels, dwindles to a +tiny speck within the mist. Now he is himself paternal and these about +him might be his sons. Who can say? The wise father knows his own +child. He thinks of a drizzling night in Hatch street, hard by the +bonded stores there, the first. Together (she is a poor waif, a child +of shame, yours and mine and of all for a bare shilling and her +luckpenny), together they hear the heavy tread of the watch as two +raincaped shadows pass the new royal university. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! +He will never forget the name, ever remember the night: first night, +the bridenight. They are entwined in nethermost darkness, the willer +with the willed, and in an instant (_fiat!_) light shall flood the +world. Did heart leap to heart? Nay, fair reader. In a breath ’twas +done but—hold! Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away +through the murk. She is the bride of darkness, a daughter of night. +She dare not bear the sunnygolden babe of day. No, Leopold. Name and +memory solace thee not. That youthful illusion of thy strength was +taken from thee—and in vain. No son of thy loins is by thee. There is +none now to be for Leopold, what Leopold was for Rudolph. + +The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the +infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the soul is wafted over +regions of cycles of generations that have lived. A region where grey +twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, +shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. She follows her +mother with ungainly steps, a mare leading her fillyfoal. Twilight +phantoms are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim +shapely haunches, a supple tendonous neck, the meek apprehensive skull. +They fade, sad phantoms: all is gone. Agendath is a waste land, a home +of screechowls and the sandblind upupa. Netaim, the golden, is no more. +And on the highway of the clouds they come, muttering thunder of +rebellion, the ghosts of beasts. Huuh! Hark! Huuh! Parallax stalks +behind and goads them, the lancinating lightnings of whose brow are +scorpions. Elk and yak, the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon, mammoth and +mastodon, they come trooping to the sunken sea, _Lacus Mortis_. Ominous +revengeful zodiacal host! They moan, passing upon the clouds, horned +and capricorned, the trumpeted with the tusked, the lionmaned, the +giantantlered, snouter and crawler, rodent, ruminant and pachyderm, all +their moving moaning multitude, murderers of the sun. + +Onward to the dead sea they tramp to drink, unslaked and with horrible +gulpings, the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. And the equine +portent grows again, magnified in the deserted heavens, nay to heaven’s +own magnitude, till it looms, vast, over the house of Virgo. And lo, +wonder of metempsychosis, it is she, the everlasting bride, harbinger +of the daystar, the bride, ever virgin. It is she, Martha, thou lost +one, Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. How serene does she +now arise, a queen among the Pleiades, in the penultimate antelucan +hour, shod in sandals of bright gold, coifed with a veil of what do you +call it gossamer. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh and +loose it streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on +currents of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply +swirling, writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a +myriad metamorphoses of symbol, it blazes, Alpha, a ruby and triangled +sign upon the forehead of Taurus. + +Francis was reminding Stephen of years before when they had been at +school together in Conmee’s time. He asked about Glaucon, Alcibiades, +Pisistratus. Where were they now? Neither knew. You have spoken of the +past and its phantoms, Stephen said. Why think of them? If I call them +into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to +my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriending +bard, am lord and giver of their life. He encircled his gadding hair +with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. That answer and those +leaves, Vincent said to him, will adorn you more fitly when something +more, and greatly more, than a capful of light odes can call your +genius father. All who wish you well hope this for you. All desire to +see you bring forth the work you meditate, to acclaim you +Stephaneforos. I heartily wish you may not fail them. O no, Vincent +Lenehan said, laying a hand on the shoulder near him. Have no fear. He +could not leave his mother an orphan. The young man’s face grew dark. +All could see how hard it was for him to be reminded of his promise and +of his recent loss. He would have withdrawn from the feast had not the +noise of voices allayed the smart. Madden had lost five drachmas on +Sceptre for a whim of the rider’s name: Lenehan as much more. He told +them of the race. The flag fell and, huuh! off, scamper, the mare ran +out freshly with O. Madden up. She was leading the field. All hearts +were beating. Even Phyllis could not contain herself. She waved her +scarf and cried: Huzzah! Sceptre wins! But in the straight on the run +home when all were in close order the dark horse Throwaway drew level, +reached, outstripped her. All was lost now. Phyllis was silent: her +eyes were sad anemones. Juno, she cried, I am undone. But her lover +consoled her and brought her a bright casket of gold in which lay some +oval sugarplums which she partook. A tear fell: one only. A whacking +fine whip, said Lenehan, is W. Lane. Four winners yesterday and three +today. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous +buffalo the victory in a hack canter is still his. But let us bear it +as was the ancient wont. Mercy on the luckless! Poor Sceptre! he said +with a light sigh. She is not the filly that she was. Never, by this +hand, shall we behold such another. By gad, sir, a queen of them. Do +you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, +Vincent said. How young she was and radiant (Lalage were scarce fair +beside her) in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I do not know the +right name of it. The chestnuts that shaded us were in bloom: the air +drooped with their persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. In +the sunny patches one might easily have cooked on a stone a batch of +those buns with Corinth fruit in them that Periplipomenes sells in his +booth near the bridge. But she had nought for her teeth but the arm +with which I held her and in that she nibbled mischievously when I +pressed too close. A week ago she lay ill, four days on the couch, but +today she was free, blithe, mocked at peril. She is more taking then. +Her posies too! Mad romp that she is, she had pulled her fill as we +reclined together. And in your ear, my friend, you will not think who +met us as we left the field. Conmee himself! He was walking by the +hedge, reading, I think a brevier book with, I doubt not, a witty +letter in it from Glycera or Chloe to keep the page. The sweet creature +turned all colours in her confusion, feigning to reprove a slight +disorder in her dress: a slip of underwood clung there for the very +trees adore her. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her lovely echo +in that little mirror she carries. But he had been kind. In going by he +had blessed us. The gods too are ever kind, Lenehan said. If I had poor +luck with Bass’s mare perhaps this draught of his may serve me more +propensely. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and +withheld his act, pointing to the stranger and to the scarlet label. +Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. His soul is far +away. It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be +born. Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the +incorruptible eon of the gods. Do you not think it, Stephen? Theosophos +told me so, Stephen answered, whom in a previous existence Egyptian +priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. The lords of the +moon, Theosophos told me, an orangefiery shipload from planet Alpha of +the lunar chain would not assume the etheric doubles and these were +therefore incarnated by the rubycoloured egos from the second +constellation. + +However, as a matter of fact though, the preposterous surmise about him +being in some description of a doldrums or other or mesmerised which +was entirely due to a misconception of the shallowest character, was +not the case at all. The individual whose visual organs while the above +was going on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of +animation was as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody +that conjectured the contrary would have found themselves pretty +speedily in the wrong shop. During the past four minutes or thereabouts +he had been staring hard at a certain amount of number one Bass bottled +by Messrs Bass and Co at Burton-on-Trent which happened to be situated +amongst a lot of others right opposite to where he was and which was +certainly calculated to attract anyone’s remark on account of its +scarlet appearance. He was simply and solely, as it subsequently +transpired for reasons best known to himself, which put quite an +altogether different complexion on the proceedings, after the moment +before’s observations about boyhood days and the turf, recollecting two +or three private transactions of his own which the other two were as +mutually innocent of as the babe unborn. Eventually, however, both +their eyes met and as soon as it began to dawn on him that the other +was endeavouring to help himself to the thing he involuntarily +determined to help him himself and so he accordingly took hold of the +neck of the mediumsized glass recipient which contained the fluid +sought after and made a capacious hole in it by pouring a lot of it out +with, also at the same time, however, a considerable degree of +attentiveness in order not to upset any of the beer that was in it +about the place. + +The debate which ensued was in its scope and progress an epitome of the +course of life. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. The +debaters were the keenest in the land, the theme they were engaged on +the loftiest and most vital. The high hall of Horne’s house had never +beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the old +rafters of that establishment ever listened to a language so +encyclopaedic. A gallant scene in truth it made. Crotthers was there at +the foot of the table in his striking Highland garb, his face glowing +from the briny airs of the Mull of Galloway. There too, opposite to +him, was Lynch whose countenance bore already the stigmata of early +depravity and premature wisdom. Next the Scotchman was the place +assigned to Costello, the eccentric, while at his side was seated in +stolid repose the squat form of Madden. The chair of the resident +indeed stood vacant before the hearth but on either flank of it the +figure of Bannon in explorer’s kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide +brogues contrasted sharply with the primrose elegance and townbred +manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Lastly at the head of the +board was the young poet who found a refuge from his labours of +pedagogy and metaphysical inquisition in the convivial atmosphere of +Socratic discussion, while to right and left of him were accommodated +the flippant prognosticator, fresh from the hippodrome, and that +vigilant wanderer, soiled by the dust of travel and combat and stained +by the mire of an indelible dishonour, but from whose steadfast and +constant heart no lure or peril or threat or degradation could ever +efface the image of that voluptuous loveliness which the inspired +pencil of Lafayette has limned for ages yet to come. + +It had better be stated here and now at the outset that the perverted +transcendentalism to which Mr S. Dedalus’ (Div. Scep.) contentions +would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter +to accepted scientific methods. Science, it cannot be too often +repeated, deals with tangible phenomena. The man of science like the +man in the street has to face hardheaded facts that cannot be blinked +and explain them as best he can. There may be, it is true, some +questions which science cannot answer—at present—such as the first +problem submitted by Mr L. Bloom (Pubb. Canv.) regarding the future +determination of sex. Must we accept the view of Empedocles of +Trinacria that the right ovary (the postmenstrual period, assert +others) is responsible for the birth of males or are the too long +neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the differentiating factors or is +it, as most embryologists incline to opine, such as Culpepper, +Spallanzani, Blumenbach, Lusk, Hertwig, Leopold and Valenti, a mixture +of both? This would be tantamount to a cooperation (one of nature’s +favourite devices) between the _nisus formativus_ of the nemasperm on +the one hand and on the other a happily chosen position, _succubitus +felix_, of the passive element. The other problem raised by the same +inquirer is scarcely less vital: infant mortality. It is interesting +because, as he pertinently remarks, we are all born in the same way but +we all die in different ways. Mr M. Mulligan (Hyg. et Eug. Doc.) blames +the sanitary conditions in which our greylunged citizens contract +adenoids, pulmonary complaints etc. by inhaling the bacteria which lurk +in dust. These factors, he alleged, and the revolting spectacles +offered by our streets, hideous publicity posters, religious ministers +of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic +cardrivers, the suspended carcases of dead animals, paranoic bachelors +and unfructified duennas—these, he said, were accountable for any and +every fallingoff in the calibre of the race. Kalipedia, he prophesied, +would soon be generally adopted and all the graces of life, genuinely +good music, agreeable literature, light philosophy, instructive +pictures, plastercast reproductions of the classical statues such as +Venus and Apollo, artistic coloured photographs of prize babies, all +these little attentions would enable ladies who were in a particular +condition to pass the intervening months in a most enjoyable manner. Mr +J. Crotthers (Disc. Bacc.) attributes some of these demises to +abdominal trauma in the case of women workers subjected to heavy +labours in the workshop and to marital discipline in the home but by +far the vast majority to neglect, private or official, culminating in +the exposure of newborn infants, the practice of criminal abortion or +in the atrocious crime of infanticide. Although the former (we are +thinking of neglect) is undoubtedly only too true the case he cites of +nurses forgetting to count the sponges in the peritoneal cavity is too +rare to be normative. In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder +is that so many pregnancies and deliveries go off so well as they do, +all things considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which +often baulk nature in her intentions. An ingenious suggestion is that +thrown out by Mr V. Lynch (Bacc. Arith.) that both natality and +mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal +movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general, +everything, in fine, in nature’s vast workshop from the extinction of +some remote sun to the blossoming of one of the countless flowers which +beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numeration as yet +unascertained. Still the plain straightforward question why a child of +normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy child and properly +looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood (though other +children of the same marriage do not) must certainly, in the poet’s +words, give us pause. Nature, we may rest assured, has her own good and +cogent reasons for whatever she does and in all probability such deaths +are due to some law of anticipation by which organisms in which morbous +germs have taken up their residence (modern science has conclusively +shown that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend +to disappear at an increasingly earlier stage of development, an +arrangement which, though productive of pain to some of our feelings +(notably the maternal), is nevertheless, some of us think, in the long +run beneficial to the race in general in securing thereby the survival +of the fittest. Mr S. Dedalus’ (Div. Scep.) remark (or should it be +called an interruption?) that an omnivorous being which can masticate, +deglute, digest and apparently pass through the ordinary channel with +pluterperfect imperturbability such multifarious aliments as cancrenous +females emaciated by parturition, corpulent professional gentlemen, not +to speak of jaundiced politicians and chlorotic nuns, might possibly +find gastric relief in an innocent collation of staggering bob, reveals +as nought else could and in a very unsavoury light the tendency above +alluded to. For the enlightenment of those who are not so intimately +acquainted with the minutiae of the municipal abattoir as this +morbidminded esthete and embryo philosopher who for all his overweening +bumptiousness in things scientific can scarcely distinguish an acid +from an alkali prides himself on being, it should perhaps be stated +that staggering bob in the vile parlance of our lowerclass licensed +victuallers signifies the cookable and eatable flesh of a calf newly +dropped from its mother. In a recent public controversy with Mr L. +Bloom (Pubb. Canv.) which took place in the commons’ hall of the +National Maternity Hospital, 29, 30 and 31 Holles street, of which, as +is well known, Dr A. Horne (Lic. in Midw., F. K. Q. C. P. I.) is the +able and popular master, he is reported by eyewitnesses as having +stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag (an esthete’s +allusion, presumably, to one of the most complicated and marvellous of +all nature’s processes—the act of sexual congress) she must let it out +again or give it life, as he phrased it, to save her own. At the risk +of her own, was the telling rejoinder of his interlocutor, none the +less effective for the moderate and measured tone in which it was +delivered. + +Meanwhile the skill and patience of the physician had brought about a +happy _accouchement._ It had been a weary weary while both for patient +and doctor. All that surgical skill could do was done and the brave +woman had manfully helped. She had. She had fought the good fight and +now she was very very happy. Those who have passed on, who have gone +before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching +scene. Reverently look at her as she reclines there with the +motherlight in her eyes, that longing hunger for baby fingers (a pretty +sight it is to see), in the first bloom of her new motherhood, +breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving to One above, the Universal +Husband. And as her loving eyes behold her babe she wishes only one +blessing more, to have her dear Doady there with her to share her joy, +to lay in his arms that mite of God’s clay, the fruit of their lawful +embraces. He is older now (you and I may whisper it) and a trifle +stooped in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years a grave dignity +has come to the conscientious second accountant of the Ulster bank, +College Green branch. O Doady, loved one of old, faithful lifemate now, +it may never be again, that faroff time of the roses! With the old +shake of her pretty head she recalls those days. God! How beautiful now +across the mist of years! But their children are grouped in her +imagination about the bedside, hers and his, Charley, Mary Alice, +Frederick Albert (if he had lived), Mamy, Budgy (Victoria Frances), +Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little Bobsy (called after our +famous hero of the South African war, lord Bobs of Waterford and +Candahar) and now this last pledge of their union, a Purefoy if ever +there was one, with the true Purefoy nose. Young hopeful will be +christened Mortimer Edward after the influential third cousin of Mr +Purefoy in the Treasury Remembrancer’s office, Dublin Castle. And so +time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. No, let no +sigh break from that bosom, dear gentle Mina. And Doady, knock the +ashes from your pipe, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the +curfew rings for you (may it be the distant day!) and dout the light +whereby you read in the Sacred Book for the oil too has run low, and so +with a tranquil heart to bed, to rest. He knows and will call in His +own good time. You too have fought the good fight and played loyally +your man’s part. Sir, to you my hand. Well done, thou good and faithful +servant! + +There are sins or (let us call them as the world calls them) evil +memories which are hidden away by man in the darkest places of the +heart but they abide there and wait. He may suffer their memory to grow +dim, let them be as though they had not been and all but persuade +himself that they were not or at least were otherwise. Yet a chance +word will call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront +him in the most various circumstances, a vision or a dream, or while +timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility +of the evening or at the feast, at midnight, when he is now filled with +wine. Not to insult over him will the vision come as over one that lies +under her wrath, not for vengeance to cut him off from the living but +shrouded in the piteous vesture of the past, silent, remote, +reproachful. + +The stranger still regarded on the face before him a slow recession of +that false calm there, imposed, as it seemed, by habit or some studied +trick, upon words so embittered as to accuse in their speaker an +unhealthiness, a _flair,_ for the cruder things of life. A scene +disengages itself in the observer’s memory, evoked, it would seem, by a +word of so natural a homeliness as if those days were really present +there (as some thought) with their immediate pleasures. A shaven space +of lawn one soft May evening, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at +Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the game +but with much real interest in the pellets as they run slowly forward +over the sward or collide and stop, one by its fellow, with a brief +alert shock. And yonder about that grey urn where the water moves at +times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, +Floey, Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know not what of +arresting in her pose then, Our Lady of the Cherries, a comely brace of +them pendent from an ear, bringing out the foreign warmth of the skin +so daintily against the cool ardent fruit. A lad of four or five in +linseywoolsey (blossomtime but there will be cheer in the kindly hearth +when ere long the bowls are gathered and hutched) is standing on the +urn secured by that circle of girlish fond hands. He frowns a little +just as this young man does now with a perhaps too conscious enjoyment +of the danger but must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother +watches from the _piazzetta_ giving upon the flowerclose with a faint +shadow of remoteness or of reproach (_alles Vergängliche_) in her glad +look. + +Mark this farther and remember. The end comes suddenly. Enter that +antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their +faces. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Quietude of +custody, rather, befitting their station in that house, the vigilant +watch of shepherds and of angels about a crib in Bethlehem of Juda long +ago. But as before the lightning the serried stormclouds, heavy with +preponderant excess of moisture, in swollen masses turgidly distended, +compass earth and sky in one vast slumber, impending above parched +field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in +an instant a flash rives their centres and with the reverberation of +the thunder the cloudburst pours its torrent, so and not otherwise was +the transformation, violent and instantaneous, upon the utterance of +the word. + +Burke’s! outflings my lord Stephen, giving the cry, and a tag and +bobtail of all them after, cockerel, jackanapes, welsher, pilldoctor, +punctual Bloom at heels with a universal grabbing at headgear, +ashplants, bilbos, Panama hats and scabbards, Zermatt alpenstocks and +what not. A dedale of lusty youth, noble every student there. Nurse +Callan taken aback in the hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon +coming downstairs with news of placentation ended, a full pound if a +milligramme. They hark him on. The door! It is open? Ha! They are out, +tumultuously, off for a minute’s race, all bravely legging it, Burke’s +of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. Dixon follows giving them +sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. Bloom stays with +nurse a thought to send a kind word to happy mother and nurseling up +there. Doctor Diet and Doctor Quiet. Looks she too not other now? Ward +of watching in Horne’s house has told its tale in that washedout +pallor. Then all being gone, a glance of motherwit helping, he whispers +close in going: Madam, when comes the storkbird for thee? + +The air without is impregnated with raindew moisture, life essence +celestial, glistening on Dublin stone there under starshiny _coelum._ +God’s air, the Allfather’s air, scintillant circumambient cessile air. +Breathe it deep into thee. By heaven, Theodore Purefoy, thou hast done +a doughty deed and no botch! Thou art, I vow, the remarkablest +progenitor barring none in this chaffering allincluding most +farraginous chronicle. Astounding! In her lay a Godframed Godgiven +preformed possibility which thou hast fructified with thy modicum of +man’s work. Cleave to her! Serve! Toil on, labour like a very bandog +and let scholarment and all Malthusiasts go hang. Thou art all their +daddies, Theodore. Art drooping under thy load, bemoiled with butcher’s +bills at home and ingots (not thine!) in the countinghouse? Head up! +For every newbegotten thou shalt gather thy homer of ripe wheat. See, +thy fleece is drenched. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his Joan? A +canting jay and a rheumeyed curdog is all their progeny. Pshaw, I tell +thee! He is a mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not +worth a cracked kreutzer. Copulation without population! No, say I! +Herod’s slaughter of the innocents were the truer name. Vegetables, +forsooth, and sterile cohabitation! Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, +bleeding! She is a hoary pandemonium of ills, enlarged glands, mumps, +quinsy, bunions, hayfever, bedsores, ringworm, floating kidney, +Derbyshire neck, warts, bilious attacks, gallstones, cold feet, +varicose veins. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all +such congenital defunctive music! Twenty years of it, regret them not. +With thee it was not as with many that will and would and wait and +never—do. Thou sawest thy America, thy lifetask, and didst charge to +cover like the transpontine bison. How saith Zarathustra? _Deine Kuh +Trübsal melkest Du. Nun Trinkst Du die süsse Milch des Euters_. See! it +displodes for thee in abundance. Drink, man, an udderful! Mother’s +milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those burgeoning +stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those +rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk of madness, the +honeymilk of Canaan’s land. Thy cow’s dug was tough, what? Ay, but her +milk is hot and sweet and fattening. No dollop this but thick rich +bonnyclaber. To her, old patriarch! Pap! _Per deam Partulam et +Pertundam nunc est bibendum!_ + +All off for a buster, armstrong, hollering down the street. Bonafides. +Where you slep las nigh? Timothy of the battered naggin. Like ole +Billyo. Any brollies or gumboots in the fambly? Where the Henry Nevil’s +sawbones and ole clo? Sorra one o’ me knows. Hurrah there, Dix! Forward +to the ribbon counter. Where’s Punch? All serene. Jay, look at the +drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospal! _Benedicat vos +omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius_. A make, mister. The Denzille lane +boys. Hell, blast ye! Scoot. Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of the +bleeding limelight. Yous join uz, dear sir? No hentrusion in life. Lou +heap good man. Allee samee dis bunch. _En avant, mes enfants!_ Fire +away number one on the gun. Burke’s! Burke’s! Thence they advanced five +parasangs. Slattery’s mounted foot. Where’s that bleeding awfur? Parson +Steve, apostates’ creed! No, no, Mulligan! Abaft there! Shove ahead. +Keep a watch on the clock. Chuckingout time. Mullee! What’s on you? _Ma +mère m’a mariée._ British Beatitudes! _Retamplatan digidi boumboum_. +Ayes have it. To be printed and bound at the Druiddrum press by two +designing females. Calf covers of pissedon green. Last word in art +shades. Most beautiful book come out of Ireland my time. _Silentium!_ +Get a spurt on. Tention. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex +liquor stores. March! Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are (attitudes!) +parching. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs battleships, buggery +and bishops. Whether on the scaffold high. Beer, beef, trample the +bibles. When for Irelandear. Trample the trampellers. Thunderation! +Keep the durned millingtary step. We fall. Bishops boosebox. Halt! +Heave to. Rugger. Scrum in. No touch kicking. Wow, my tootsies! You +hurt? Most amazingly sorry! + +Query. Who’s astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damnall. +Declare misery. Bet to the ropes. Me nantee saltee. Not a red at me +this week gone. Yours? Mead of our fathers for the _Übermensch._ +Dittoh. Five number ones. You, sir? Ginger cordial. Chase me, the +cabby’s caudle. Stimulate the caloric. Winding of his ticker. Stopped +short never to go again when the old. Absinthe for me, savvy? +_Caramba!_ Have an eggnog or a prairie oyster. Enemy? Avuncular’s got +my timepiece. Ten to. Obligated awful. Don’t mention it. Got a pectoral +trauma, eh, Dix? Pos fact. Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wus +settin sleepin in hes bit garten. Digs up near the Mater. Buckled he +is. Know his dona? Yup, sartin I do. Full of a dure. See her in her +dishybilly. Peels off a credit. Lovey lovekin. None of your lean kine, +not much. Pull down the blind, love. Two Ardilauns. Same here. Look +slippery. If you fall don’t wait to get up. Five, seven, nine. Fine! +Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And her take me to rests and her +anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and +allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, O gluepot. Sir? Spud again the +rheumatiz? All poppycock, you’ll scuse me saying. For the hoi polloi. I +vear thee beest a gert vool. Well, doc? Back fro Lapland? Your +corporosity sagaciating O K? How’s the squaws and papooses? Womanbody +after going on the straw? Stand and deliver. Password. There’s hair. +Ours the white death and the ruddy birth. Hi! Spit in your own eye, +boss! Mummer’s wire. Cribbed out of Meredith. Jesified, orchidised, +polycimical jesuit! Aunty mine’s writing Pa Kinch. Baddybad Stephen +lead astray goodygood Malachi. + +Hurroo! Collar the leather, youngun. Roun wi the nappy. Here, Jock braw +Hielentman’s your barleybree. Lang may your lum reek and your kailpot +boil! My tipple. _Merci._ Here’s to us. How’s that? Leg before wicket. +Don’t stain my brandnew sitinems. Give’s a shake of peppe, you there. +Catch aholt. Caraway seed to carry away. Twig? Shrieks of silence. +Every cove to his gentry mort. Venus Pandemos. _Les petites femmes_. +Bold bad girl from the town of Mullingar. Tell her I was axing at her. +Hauding Sara by the wame. On the road to Malahide. Me? If she who +seduced me had left but the name. What do you want for ninepence? +Machree, macruiskeen. Smutty Moll for a mattress jig. And a pull all +together. _Ex!_ + +Waiting, guvnor? Most deciduously. Bet your boots on. Stunned like, +seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Underconstumble? He’ve got the +chink _ad lib_. Seed near free poun on un a spell ago a said war hisn. +Us come right in on your invite, see? Up to you, matey. Out with the +oof. Two bar and a wing. You larn that go off of they there Frenchy +bilks? Won’t wash here for nuts nohow. Lil chile velly solly. Ise de +cutest colour coon down our side. Gawds teruth, Chawley. We are nae +fou. We’re nae tha fou. Au reservoir, mossoo. Tanks you. + +’Tis, sure. What say? In the speakeasy. Tight. I shee you, shir. +Bantam, two days teetee. Bowsing nowt but claretwine. Garn! Have a +glint, do. Gum, I’m jiggered. And been to barber he have. Too full for +words. With a railway bloke. How come you so? Opera he’d like? Rose of +Castile. Rows of cast. Police! Some H2O for a gent fainted. Look at +Bantam’s flowers. Gemini. He’s going to holler. The colleen bawn. My +colleen bawn. O, cheese it! Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a firm +hand. Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert. The ruffin +cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the jady coppaleen. He strike a +telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the depot. Shove him a joey +and grahamise. Mare on form hot order. Guinea to a goosegog. Tell a +cram, that. Gospeltrue. Criminal diversion? I think that yes. Sure +thing. Land him in chokeechokee if the harman beck copped the game. +Madden back Madden’s a maddening back. O lust our refuge and our +strength. Decamping. Must you go? Off to mammy. Stand by. Hide my +blushes someone. All in if he spots me. Come ahome, our Bantam. +Horryvar, mong vioo. Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel. Cornfide. +Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Jannock. Of John Thomas, her spouse. +No fake, old man Leo. S’elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers if I +had. There’s a great big holy friar. Vyfor you no me tell? Vel, I ses, +if that aint a sheeny nachez, vel, I vil get misha mishinnah. Through +yerd our lord, Amen. + +You move a motion? Steve boy, you’re going it some. More bluggy +drunkables? Will immensely splendiferous stander permit one stooder of +most extreme poverty and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate +one expensive inaugurated libation? Give’s a breather. Landlord, +landlord, have you good wine, staboo? Hoots, mon, a wee drap to pree. +Cut and come again. Right. Boniface! Absinthe the lot. _Nos omnes +biberimus viridum toxicum diabolus capiat posterioria nostria_. +Closingtime, gents. Eh? Rome boose for the Bloom toff. I hear you say +onions? Bloo? Cadges ads. Photo’s papli, by all that’s gorgeous. Play +low, pardner. Slide. _Bonsoir la compagnie_. And snares of the +poxfiend. Where’s the buck and Namby Amby? Skunked? Leg bail. Aweel, ye +maun e’en gang yer gates. Checkmate. King to tower. Kind Kristyann wil +yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee tu find plais whear tu +lay crown of his hed 2 night. Crickey, I’m about sprung. Tarnally dog +gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest longbreak yet. Item, +curate, couple of cookies for this child. Cot’s plood and prandypalls, +none! Not a pite of sheeses? Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him +those other licensed spirits. Time, gents! Who wander through the +world. Health all! _À la vôtre_! + +Golly, whatten tunket’s yon guy in the mackintosh? Dusty Rhodes. Peep +at his wearables. By mighty! What’s he got? Jubilee mutton. Bovril, by +James. Wants it real bad. D’ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the +Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis. +Trumpery insanity. Bartle the Bread we calls him. That, sir, was once a +prosperous cit. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all +forlorn. Slung her hook, she did. Here see lost love. Walking +Mackintosh of lonely canyon. Tuck and turn in. Schedule time. Nix for +the hornies. Pardon? Seen him today at a runefal? Chum o’ yourn passed +in his checks? Ludamassy! Pore piccaninnies! Thou’ll no be telling me +thot, Pold veg! Did ums blubble bigsplash crytears cos fren Padney was +took off in black bag? Of all de darkies Massa Pat was verra best. I +never see the like since I was born. _Tiens, tiens_, but it is well +sad, that, my faith, yes. O, get, rev on a gradient one in nine. Live +axle drives are souped. Lay you two to one Jenatzy licks him ruddy well +hollow. Jappies? High angle fire, inyah! Sunk by war specials. Be worse +for him, says he, nor any Rooshian. Time all. There’s eleven of them. +Get ye gone. Forward, woozy wobblers! Night. Night. May Allah the +Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously conserve. + +Your attention! We’re nae tha fou. The Leith police dismisseth us. The +least tholice. Ware hawks for the chap puking. Unwell in his abominable +regions. Yooka. Night. Mona, my true love. Yook. Mona, my own love. +Ook. + +Hark! Shut your obstropolos. Pflaap! Pflaap! Blaze on. There she goes. +Brigade! Bout ship. Mount street way. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. You not +come? Run, skelter, race. Pflaaaap! + +Lynch! Hey? Sign on long o’ me. Denzille lane this way. Change here for +Bawdyhouse. We two, she said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is. +Righto, any old time. _Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis_. You coming long? +Whisper, who the sooty hell’s the johnny in the black duds? Hush! +Sinned against the light and even now that day is at hand when he shall +come to judge the world by fire. Pflaap! _Ut implerentur scripturae_. +Strike up a ballad. Then outspake medical Dick to his comrade medical +Davy. Christicle, who’s this excrement yellow gospeller on the Merrion +hall? Elijah is coming! Washed in the blood of the Lamb. Come on you +winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences! Come on, you +dog-gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, +weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Come on, you +triple extract of infamy! Alexander J Christ Dowie, that’s my name, +that’s yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to +Vladivostok. The Deity aint no nickel dime bumshow. I put it to you +that He’s on the square and a corking fine business proposition. He’s +the grandest thing yet and don’t you forget it. Shout salvation in King +Jesus. You’ll need to rise precious early, you sinner there, if you +want to diddle the Almighty God. Pflaaaap! Not half. He’s got a +coughmixture with a punch in it for you, my friend, in his back pocket. +Just you try it on. + + +[ 15 ] + +_(The Mabbot street entrance of nighttown, before which stretches an +uncobbled tramsiding set with skeleton tracks, red and green +will-o’-the-wisps and danger signals. Rows of grimy houses with gaping +doors. Rare lamps with faint rainbow fans. Round Rabaiotti’s halted ice +gondola stunted men and women squabble. They grab wafers between which +are wedged lumps of coral and copper snow. Sucking, they scatter +slowly. Children. The swancomb of the gondola, highreared, forges on +through the murk, white and blue under a lighthouse. Whistles call and +answer.)_ + +THE CALLS: Wait, my love, and I’ll be with you. + +THE ANSWERS: Round behind the stable. + +_(A deafmute idiot with goggle eyes, his shapeless mouth dribbling, +jerks past, shaken in Saint Vitus’ dance. A chain of children ’s hands +imprisons him.)_ + +THE CHILDREN: Kithogue! Salute! + +THE IDIOT: _(Lifts a palsied left arm and gurgles.)_ Grhahute! + +THE CHILDREN: Where’s the great light? + +THE IDIOT: _(Gobbling.)_ Ghaghahest. + +_(They release him. He jerks on. A pigmy woman swings on a rope slung +between two railings, counting. A form sprawled against a dustbin and +muffled by its arm and hat snores, groans, grinding growling teeth, and +snores again. On a step a gnome totting among a rubbishtip crouches to +shoulder a sack of rags and bones. A crone standing by with a smoky +oillamp rams her last bottle in the maw of his sack. He heaves his +booty, tugs askew his peaked cap and hobbles off mutely. The crone +makes back for her lair, swaying her lamp. A bandy child, asquat on the +doorstep with a paper shuttlecock, crawls sidling after her in spurts, +clutches her skirt, scrambles up. A drunken navvy grips with both hands +the railings of an area, lurching heavily. At a corner two night watch +in shouldercapes, their hands upon their staffholsters, loom tall. A +plate crashes: a woman screams: a child wails. Oaths of a man roar, +mutter, cease. Figures wander, lurk, peer from warrens. In a room lit +by a candle stuck in a bottleneck a slut combs out the tatts from the +hair of a scrofulous child. Cissy Caffrey’s voice, still young, sings +shrill from a lane.)_ + +CISSY CAFFREY: + + I gave it to Molly + Because she was jolly, + The leg of the duck, + The leg of the duck. + +_(Private Carr and Private Compton, swaggersticks tight in their +oxters, as they march unsteadily rightaboutface and burst together from +their mouths a volleyed fart. Laughter of men from the lane. A hoarse +virago retorts.)_ + +THE VIRAGO: Signs on you, hairy arse. More power the Cavan girl. + +CISSY CAFFREY: More luck to me. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet. _(She +sings.)_ + + I gave it to Nelly + To stick in her belly, + The leg of the duck, + The leg of the duck. + +_(Private Carr and Private Compton turn and counterretort, their tunics +bloodbright in a lampglow, black sockets of caps on their blond cropped +polls. Stephen Dedalus and Lynch pass through the crowd close to the +redcoats.)_ + +PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Jerks his finger.)_ Way for the parson. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Turns and calls.)_ What ho, parson! + +CISSY CAFFREY: _(Her voice soaring higher.)_ + + She has it, she got it, + Wherever she put it, + The leg of the duck. + +_(Stephen, flourishing the ashplant in his left hand, chants with joy +the_ introit _for paschal time. Lynch, his jockeycap low on his brow, +attends him, a sneer of discontent wrinkling his face.)_ + +STEPHEN: _Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere dextro. Alleluia_. + +_(The famished snaggletusks of an elderly bawd protrude from a +doorway.)_ + +THE BAWD: _(Her voice whispering huskily.)_ Sst! Come here till I tell +you. Maidenhead inside. Sst! + +STEPHEN: _(Altius aliquantulum.) Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista_. + +THE BAWD: _(Spits in their trail her jet of venom.)_ Trinity medicals. +Fallopian tube. All prick and no pence. + +_(Edy Boardman, sniffling, crouched with Bertha Supple, draws her shawl +across her nostrils.)_ + +EDY BOARDMAN: _(Bickering.)_ And says the one: I seen you up Faithful +place with your squarepusher, the greaser off the railway, in his +cometobed hat. Did you, says I. That’s not for you to say, says I. You +never seen me in the mantrap with a married highlander, says I. The +likes of her! Stag that one is! Stubborn as a mule! And her walking +with two fellows the one time, Kilbride, the enginedriver, and +lancecorporal Oliphant. + +STEPHEN: _(Triumphaliter.) Salvi facti sunt._ + +_(He flourishes his ashplant, shivering the lamp image, shattering +light over the world. A liver and white spaniel on the prowl slinks +after him, growling. Lynch scares it with a kick.)_ + +LYNCH: So that? + +STEPHEN: (_Looks behind_.) So that gesture, not music not odour, would +be a universal language, the gift of tongues rendering visible not the +lay sense but the first entelechy, the structural rhythm. + +LYNCH: Pornosophical philotheology. Metaphysics in Mecklenburgh street! + +STEPHEN: We have shrewridden Shakespeare and henpecked Socrates. Even +the allwisest Stagyrite was bitted, bridled and mounted by a light of +love. + +LYNCH: Ba! + +STEPHEN: Anyway, who wants two gestures to illustrate a loaf and a jug? +This movement illustrates the loaf and jug of bread or wine in Omar. +Hold my stick. + +LYNCH: Damn your yellow stick. Where are we going? + +STEPHEN: Lecherous lynx, to _la belle dame sans merci,_ Georgina +Johnson, _ad deam qui laetificat iuventutem meam._ + +_(Stephen thrusts the ashplant on him and slowly holds out his hands, +his head going back till both hands are a span from his breast, down +turned, in planes intersecting, the fingers about to part, the left +being higher.)_ + +LYNCH: Which is the jug of bread? It skills not. That or the +customhouse. Illustrate thou. Here take your crutch and walk. + +_(They pass. Tommy Caffrey scrambles to a gaslamp and, clasping, climbs +in spasms. From the top spur he slides down. Jacky Caffrey clasps to +climb. The navvy lurches against the lamp. The twins scuttle off in the +dark. The navvy, swaying, presses a forefinger against a wing of his +nose and ejects from the farther nostril a long liquid jet of snot. +Shouldering the lamp he staggers away through the crowd with his +flaring cresset._ + +_Snakes of river fog creep slowly. From drains, clefts, cesspools, +middens arise on all sides stagnant fumes. A glow leaps in the south +beyond the seaward reaches of the river. The navvy, staggering forward, +cleaves the crowd and lurches towards the tramsiding. On the farther +side under the railway bridge Bloom appears, flushed, panting, cramming +bread and chocolate into a sidepocket. From Gillen’s hairdresser’s +window a composite portrait shows him gallant Nelson’s image. A concave +mirror at the side presents to him lovelorn longlost lugubru +Booloohoom. Grave Gladstone sees him level, Bloom for Bloom. He passes, +struck by the stare of truculent Wellington, but in the convex mirror +grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the +rixdix doldy._ + +_At Antonio Rabaiotti’s door Bloom halts, sweated under the bright +arclamp. He disappears. In a moment he reappears and hurries on.)_ + +BLOOM: Fish and taters. N. g. Ah! + +_(He disappears into Olhausen’s, the porkbutcher’s, under the +downcoming rollshutter. A few moments later he emerges from under the +shutter, puffing Poldy, blowing Bloohoom. In each hand he holds a +parcel, one containing a lukewarm pig’s crubeen, the other a cold +sheep’s trotter, sprinkled with wholepepper. He gasps, standing +upright. Then bending to one side he presses a parcel against his ribs +and groans.)_ + +BLOOM: Stitch in my side. Why did I run? + +_(He takes breath with care and goes forward slowly towards the lampset +siding. The glow leaps again.)_ + +BLOOM: What is that? A flasher? Searchlight. + +_(He stands at Cormack’s corner, watching.)_ + +BLOOM: _Aurora borealis_ or a steel foundry? Ah, the brigade, of +course. South side anyhow. Big blaze. Might be his house. Beggar’s +bush. We’re safe. _(He hums cheerfully.)_ London’s burning, London’s +burning! On fire, on fire! (_He catches sight of the navvy lurching +through the crowd at the farther side of Talbot street._) I’ll miss +him. Run. Quick. Better cross here. + +_(He darts to cross the road. Urchins shout.)_ + +THE URCHINS: Mind out, mister! + +(_Two cyclists, with lighted paper lanterns aswing, swim by him, +grazing him, their bells rattling._) + +THE BELLS: Haltyaltyaltyall. + +BLOOM: _(Halts erect, stung by a spasm.)_ Ow! + +_(He looks round, darts forward suddenly. Through rising fog a dragon +sandstrewer, travelling at caution, slews heavily down upon him, its +huge red headlight winking, its trolley hissing on the wire. The +motorman bangs his footgong.)_ + +THE GONG: Bang Bang Bla Bak Blud Bugg Bloo. + +_(The brake cracks violently. Bloom, raising a policeman’s whitegloved +hand, blunders stifflegged out of the track. The motorman, thrown +forward, pugnosed, on the guidewheel, yells as he slides past over +chains and keys.)_ + +THE MOTORMAN: Hey, shitbreeches, are you doing the hat trick? + +_(Bloom trickleaps to the curbstone and halts again. He brushes a +mudflake from his cheek with a parcelled hand.)_ + +BLOOM: No thoroughfare. Close shave that but cured the stitch. Must +take up Sandow’s exercises again. On the hands down. Insure against +street accident too. The Providential. _(He feels his trouser pocket.)_ +Poor mamma’s panacea. Heel easily catch in track or bootlace in a cog. +Day the wheel of the black Maria peeled off my shoe at Leonard’s +corner. Third time is the charm. Shoe trick. Insolent driver. I ought +to report him. Tension makes them nervous. Might be the fellow balked +me this morning with that horsey woman. Same style of beauty. Quick of +him all the same. The stiff walk. True word spoken in jest. That awful +cramp in Lad lane. Something poisonous I ate. Emblem of luck. Why? +Probably lost cattle. Mark of the beast. _(He closes his eyes an +instant.)_ Bit light in the head. Monthly or effect of the other. +Brainfogfag. That tired feeling. Too much for me now. Ow! + +_(A sinister figure leans on plaited legs against O’Beirne’s wall, a +visage unknown, injected with dark mercury. From under a wideleaved +sombrero the figure regards him with evil eye.)_ + +BLOOM: _Buenas noches, señorita Blanca, que calle es esta?_ + +THE FIGURE: (_Impassive, raises a signal arm._) Password. _Sraid +Mabbot._ + +BLOOM: Haha. _Merci._ Esperanto. _Slan leath. (He mutters.)_ Gaelic +league spy, sent by that fireeater. + +_(He steps forward. A sackshouldered ragman bars his path. He steps +left, ragsackman left.)_ + +BLOOM: I beg. + +(_He leaps right, sackragman right._) + +BLOOM: I beg. + +(_He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on._) + +BLOOM: Keep to the right, right, right. If there is a signpost planted +by the Touring Club at Stepaside who procured that public boon? I who +lost my way and contributed to the columns of the _Irish Cyclist_ the +letter headed _In darkest Stepaside_. Keep, keep, keep to the right. +Rags and bones at midnight. A fence more likely. First place murderer +makes for. Wash off his sins of the world. + +_(Jacky Caffrey, hunted by Tommy Caffrey, runs full tilt against +Bloom.)_ + +BLOOM: O. + +_(Shocked, on weak hams, he halts. Tommy and Jacky vanish there, there. +Bloom pats with parcelled hands watch, fobpocket, bookpocket, +pursepoke, sweets of sin, potato soap.)_ + +BLOOM: Beware of pickpockets. Old thieves’ dodge. Collide. Then snatch +your purse. + +_(The retriever approaches sniffing, nose to the ground. A sprawled +form sneezes. A stooped bearded figure appears garbed in the long +caftan of an elder in Zion and a smokingcap with magenta tassels. +Horned spectacles hang down at the wings of the nose. Yellow poison +streaks are on the drawn face.)_ + +RUDOLPH: Second halfcrown waste money today. I told you not go with +drunken goy ever. So you catch no money. + +BLOOM: _(Hides the crubeen and trotter behind his back and, +crestfallen, feels warm and cold feetmeat.) Ja, ich weiss, papachi._ + +RUDOLPH: What you making down this place? Have you no soul? _(With +feeble vulture talons he feels the silent face of Bloom.)_ Are you not +my son Leopold, the grandson of Leopold? Are you not my dear son +Leopold who left the house of his father and left the god of his +fathers Abraham and Jacob? + +BLOOM: _(With precaution.)_ I suppose so, father. Mosenthal. All that’s +left of him. + +RUDOLPH: _(Severely.)_ One night they bring you home drunk as dog after +spend your good money. What you call them running chaps? + +BLOOM: _(In youth’s smart blue Oxford suit with white vestslips, +narrowshouldered, in brown Alpine hat, wearing gent’s sterling silver +waterbury keyless watch and double curb Albert with seal attached, one +side of him coated with stiffening mud.)_ Harriers, father. Only that +once. + +RUDOLPH: Once! Mud head to foot. Cut your hand open. Lockjaw. They make +you kaputt, Leopoldleben. You watch them chaps. + +BLOOM: _(Weakly.)_ They challenged me to a sprint. It was muddy. I +slipped. + +RUDOLPH: _(With contempt.) Goim nachez!_ Nice spectacles for your poor +mother! + +BLOOM: Mamma! + +ELLEN BLOOM: _(In pantomime dame’s stringed mobcap, widow Twankey’s +crinoline and bustle, blouse with muttonleg sleeves buttoned behind, +grey mittens and cameo brooch, her plaited hair in a crispine net, +appears over the staircase banisters, a slanted candlestick in her +hand, and cries out in shrill alarm.)_ O blessed Redeemer, what have +they done to him! My smelling salts! _(She hauls up a reef of skirt and +ransacks the pouch of her striped blay petticoat. A phial, an Agnus +Dei, a shrivelled potato and a celluloid doll fall out.)_ Sacred Heart +of Mary, where were you at all at all? + +_(Bloom, mumbling, his eyes downcast, begins to bestow his parcels in +his filled pockets but desists, muttering.)_ + +A VOICE: _(Sharply.)_ Poldy! + +BLOOM: Who? _(He ducks and wards off a blow clumsily.)_ At your +service. + +_(He looks up. Beside her mirage of datepalms a handsome woman in +Turkish costume stands before him. Opulent curves fill out her scarlet +trousers and jacket, slashed with gold. A wide yellow cummerbund +girdles her. A white yashmak, violet in the night, covers her face, +leaving free only her large dark eyes and raven hair.)_ + +BLOOM: Molly! + +MARION: Welly? Mrs Marion from this out, my dear man, when you speak to +me. _(Satirically.)_ Has poor little hubby cold feet waiting so long? + +BLOOM: _(Shifts from foot to foot.)_ No, no. Not the least little bit. + +_(He breathes in deep agitation, swallowing gulps of air, questions, +hopes, crubeens for her supper, things to tell her, excuse, desire, +spellbound. A coin gleams on her forehead. On her feet are jewelled +toerings. Her ankles are linked by a slender fetterchain. Beside her a +camel, hooded with a turreting turban, waits. A silk ladder of +innumerable rungs climbs to his bobbing howdah. He ambles near with +disgruntled hindquarters. Fiercely she slaps his haunch, her goldcurb +wristbangles angriling, scolding him in Moorish.)_ + +MARION: Nebrakada! Femininum! + +_(The camel, lifting a foreleg, plucks from a tree a large mango fruit, +offers it to his mistress, blinking, in his cloven hoof, then droops +his head and, grunting, with uplifted neck, fumbles to kneel. Bloom +stoops his back for leapfrog.)_ + +BLOOM: I can give you... I mean as your business menagerer... Mrs +Marion... if you... + +MARION: So you notice some change? _(Her hands passing slowly over her +trinketed stomacher, a slow friendly mockery in her eyes.)_ O Poldy, +Poldy, you are a poor old stick in the mud! Go and see life. See the +wide world. + +BLOOM: I was just going back for that lotion whitewax, orangeflower +water. Shop closes early on Thursday. But the first thing in the +morning. _(He pats divers pockets.)_ This moving kidney. Ah! + +_(He points to the south, then to the east. A cake of new clean lemon +soap arises, diffusing light and perfume.)_ + +THE SOAP: + + We’re a capital couple are Bloom and I. + He brightens the earth. I polish the sky. + +_(The freckled face of Sweny, the druggist, appears in the disc of the +soapsun.)_ + +SWENY: Three and a penny, please. + +BLOOM: Yes. For my wife. Mrs Marion. Special recipe. + +MARION: _(Softly.)_ Poldy! + +BLOOM: Yes, ma’am? + +MARION: _Ti trema un poco il cuore?_ + +_(In disdain she saunters away, plump as a pampered pouter pigeon, +humming the duet from_ Don Giovanni.) + +BLOOM: Are you sure about that _Voglio_? I mean the pronunciati... + +_(He follows, followed by the sniffing terrier. The elderly bawd seizes +his sleeve, the bristles of her chinmole glittering.)_ + +THE BAWD: Ten shillings a maidenhead. Fresh thing was never touched. +Fifteen. There’s no-one in it only her old father that’s dead drunk. + +_(She points. In the gap of her dark den furtive, rainbedraggled, +Bridie Kelly stands.)_ + +BRIDIE: Hatch street. Any good in your mind? + +_(With a squeak she flaps her bat shawl and runs. A burly rough pursues +with booted strides. He stumbles on the steps, recovers, plunges into +gloom. Weak squeaks of laughter are heard, weaker.)_ + +THE BAWD: _(Her wolfeyes shining.)_ He’s getting his pleasure. You +won’t get a virgin in the flash houses. Ten shillings. Don’t be all +night before the polis in plain clothes sees us. Sixtyseven is a bitch. + +_(Leering, Gerty Macdowell limps forward. She draws from behind, +ogling, and shows coyly her bloodied clout.)_ + +GERTY: With all my worldly goods I thee and thou. _(She murmurs.)_ You +did that. I hate you. + +BLOOM: I? When? You’re dreaming. I never saw you. + +THE BAWD: Leave the gentleman alone, you cheat. Writing the gentleman +false letters. Streetwalking and soliciting. Better for your mother +take the strap to you at the bedpost, hussy like you. + +GERTY: _(To Bloom.)_ When you saw all the secrets of my bottom drawer. +_(She paws his sleeve, slobbering.)_ Dirty married man! I love you for +doing that to me. + +_(She glides away crookedly. Mrs Breen in man’s frieze overcoat with +loose bellows pockets, stands in the causeway, her roguish eyes +wideopen, smiling in all her herbivorous buckteeth.)_ + +MRS BREEN: Mr... + +BLOOM: _(Coughs gravely.)_ Madam, when we last had this pleasure by +letter dated the sixteenth instant... + +MRS BREEN: Mr Bloom! You down here in the haunts of sin! I caught you +nicely! Scamp! + +BLOOM: _(Hurriedly.)_ Not so loud my name. Whatever do you think of me? +Don’t give me away. Walls have ears. How do you do? It’s ages since I. +You’re looking splendid. Absolutely it. Seasonable weather we are +having this time of year. Black refracts heat. Short cut home here. +Interesting quarter. Rescue of fallen women. Magdalen asylum. I am the +secretary... + +MRS BREEN: _(Holds up a finger.)_ Now, don’t tell a big fib! I know +somebody won’t like that. O just wait till I see Molly! _(Slily.)_ +Account for yourself this very sminute or woe betide you! + +BLOOM: _(Looks behind.)_ She often said she’d like to visit. Slumming. +The exotic, you see. Negro servants in livery too if she had money. +Othello black brute. Eugene Stratton. Even the bones and cornerman at +the Livermore christies. Bohee brothers. Sweep for that matter. + +_(Tom and Sam Bohee, coloured coons in white duck suits, scarlet socks, +upstarched Sambo chokers and large scarlet asters in their buttonholes, +leap out. Each has his banjo slung. Their paler smaller negroid hands +jingle the twingtwang wires. Flashing white Kaffir eyes and tusks they +rattle through a breakdown in clumsy clogs, twinging, singing, back to +back, toe heel, heel toe, with smackfatclacking nigger lips.)_ + +TOM AND SAM: + + There’s someone in the house with Dina + There’s someone in the house, I know, + There’s someone in the house with Dina + Playing on the old banjo. + +_(They whisk black masks from raw babby faces: then, chuckling, +chortling, trumming, twanging, they diddle diddle cakewalk dance +away.)_ + +BLOOM: _(With a sour tenderish smile.)_ A little frivol, shall we, if +you are so inclined? Would you like me perhaps to embrace you just for +a fraction of a second? + +MRS BREEN: _(Screams gaily.)_ O, you ruck! You ought to see yourself! + +BLOOM: For old sake’ sake. I only meant a square party, a mixed +marriage mingling of our different little conjugials. You know I had a +soft corner for you. _(Gloomily.)_ ’Twas I sent you that valentine of +the dear gazelle. + +MRS BREEN: Glory Alice, you do look a holy show! Killing simply. _(She +puts out her hand inquisitively.)_ What are you hiding behind your +back? Tell us, there’s a dear. + +BLOOM: _(Seizes her wrist with his free hand.)_ Josie Powell that was, +prettiest deb in Dublin. How time flies by! Do you remember, harking +back in a retrospective arrangement, Old Christmas night, Georgina +Simpson’s housewarming while they were playing the Irving Bishop game, +finding the pin blindfold and thoughtreading? Subject, what is in this +snuffbox? + +MRS BREEN: You were the lion of the night with your seriocomic +recitation and you looked the part. You were always a favourite with +the ladies. + +BLOOM: _(Squire of dames, in dinner jacket with wateredsilk facings, +blue masonic badge in his buttonhole, black bow and mother-of-pearl +studs, a prismatic champagne glass tilted in his hand.)_ Ladies and +gentlemen, I give you Ireland, home and beauty. + +MRS BREEN: The dear dead days beyond recall. Love’s old sweet song. + +BLOOM: _(Meaningfully dropping his voice.)_ I confess I’m teapot with +curiosity to find out whether some person’s something is a little +teapot at present. + +MRS BREEN: _(Gushingly.)_ Tremendously teapot! London’s teapot and I’m +simply teapot all over me! _(She rubs sides with him.)_ After the +parlour mystery games and the crackers from the tree we sat on the +staircase ottoman. Under the mistletoe. Two is company. + +BLOOM: _(Wearing a purple Napoleon hat with an amber halfmoon, his +fingers and thumb passing slowly down to her soft moist meaty palm +which she surrenders gently.)_ The witching hour of night. I took the +splinter out of this hand, carefully, slowly. _(Tenderly, as he slips +on her finger a ruby ring.) Là ci darem la mano._ + +MRS BREEN: _(In a onepiece evening frock executed in moonlight blue, a +tinsel sylph’s diadem on her brow with her dancecard fallen beside her +moonblue satin slipper, curves her palm softly, breathing quickly.) +Voglio e non._ You’re hot! You’re scalding! The left hand nearest the +heart. + +BLOOM: When you made your present choice they said it was beauty and +the beast. I can never forgive you for that. _(His clenched fist at his +brow.)_ Think what it means. All you meant to me then. _(Hoarsely.)_ +Woman, it’s breaking me! + +_(Denis Breen, whitetallhatted, with Wisdom Hely’s sandwichboards, +shuffles past them in carpet slippers, his dull beard thrust out, +muttering to right and left. Little Alf Bergan, cloaked in the pall of +the ace of spades, dogs him to left and right, doubled in laughter.)_ + +ALF BERGAN: _(Points jeering at the sandwichboards.)_ U. p: up. + +MRS BREEN: _(To Bloom.)_ High jinks below stairs. _(She gives him the +glad eye.)_ Why didn’t you kiss the spot to make it well? You wanted +to. + +BLOOM: _(Shocked.)_ Molly’s best friend! Could you? + +MRS BREEN: _(Her pulpy tongue between her lips, offers a pigeon kiss.)_ +Hnhn. The answer is a lemon. Have you a little present for me there? + +BLOOM: _(Offhandedly.)_ Kosher. A snack for supper. The home without +potted meat is incomplete. I was at _Leah_, Mrs Bandmann Palmer. +Trenchant exponent of Shakespeare. Unfortunately threw away the +programme. Rattling good place round there for pigs’ feet. Feel. + +_(Richie Goulding, three ladies’ hats pinned on his head, appears +weighted to one side by the black legal bag of Collis and Ward on which +a skull and crossbones are painted in white limewash. He opens it and +shows it full of polonies, kippered herrings, Findon haddies and +tightpacked pills.)_ + +RICHIE: Best value in Dub. + +_(Bald Pat, bothered beetle, stands on the curbstone, folding his +napkin, waiting to wait.)_ + +PAT: _(Advances with a tilted dish of spillspilling gravy.)_ Steak and +kidney. Bottle of lager. Hee hee hee. Wait till I wait. + +RICHIE: Goodgod. Inev erate inall... + +_(With hanging head he marches doggedly forward. The navvy, lurching +by, gores him with his flaming pronghorn.)_ + +RICHIE: _(With a cry of pain, his hand to his back.)_ Ah! Bright’s! +Lights! + +BLOOM: _(Points to the navvy.)_ A spy. Don’t attract attention. I hate +stupid crowds. I am not on pleasure bent. I am in a grave predicament. + +MRS BREEN: Humbugging and deluthering as per usual with your cock and +bull story. + +BLOOM: I want to tell you a little secret about how I came to be here. +But you must never tell. Not even Molly. I have a most particular +reason. + +MRS BREEN: _(All agog.)_ O, not for worlds. + +BLOOM: Let’s walk on. Shall us? + +MRS BREEN: Let’s. + +_(The bawd makes an unheeded sign. Bloom walks on with Mrs Breen. The +terrier follows, whining piteously, wagging his tail.)_ + +THE BAWD: Jewman’s melt! + +BLOOM: _(In an oatmeal sporting suit, a sprig of woodbine in the lapel, +tony buff shirt, shepherd’s plaid Saint Andrew’s cross scarftie, white +spats, fawn dustcoat on his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in +bandolier and a grey billycock hat.)_ Do you remember a long long time, +years and years ago, just after Milly, Marionette we called her, was +weaned when we all went together to Fairyhouse races, was it? + +MRS BREEN: _(In smart Saxe tailormade, white velours hat and spider +veil.)_ Leopardstown. + +BLOOM: I mean, Leopardstown. And Molly won seven shillings on a three +year old named Nevertell and coming home along by Foxrock in that old +fiveseater shanderadan of a waggonette you were in your heyday then and +you had on that new hat of white velours with a surround of molefur +that Mrs Hayes advised you to buy because it was marked down to +nineteen and eleven, a bit of wire and an old rag of velveteen, and +I’ll lay you what you like she did it on purpose... + +MRS BREEN: She did, of course, the cat! Don’t tell me! Nice adviser! + +BLOOM: Because it didn’t suit you one quarter as well as the other +ducky little tammy toque with the bird of paradise wing in it that I +admired on you and you honestly looked just too fetching in it though +it was a pity to kill it, you cruel naughty creature, little mite of a +thing with a heart the size of a fullstop. + +MRS BREEN: _(Squeezes his arm, simpers.)_ Naughty cruel I was! + +BLOOM: _(Low, secretly, ever more rapidly.)_ And Molly was eating a +sandwich of spiced beef out of Mrs Joe Gallaher’s lunch basket. +Frankly, though she had her advisers or admirers, I never cared much +for her style. She was... + +MRS BREEN: Too... + +BLOOM: Yes. And Molly was laughing because Rogers and Maggot O’Reilly +were mimicking a cock as we passed a farmhouse and Marcus Tertius +Moses, the tea merchant, drove past us in a gig with his daughter, +Dancer Moses was her name, and the poodle in her lap bridled up and you +asked me if I ever heard or read or knew or came across... + +MRS BREEN: _(Eagerly.)_ Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. + +_(She fades from his side. Followed by the whining dog he walks on +towards hellsgates. In an archway a standing woman, bent forward, her +feet apart, pisses cowily. Outside a shuttered pub a bunch of loiterers +listen to a tale which their brokensnouted gaffer rasps out with +raucous humour. An armless pair of them flop wrestling, growling, in +maimed sodden playfight.)_ + +THE GAFFER: _(Crouches, his voice twisted in his snout.)_ And when +Cairns came down from the scaffolding in Beaver street what was he +after doing it into only into the bucket of porter that was there +waiting on the shavings for Derwan’s plasterers. + +THE LOITERERS: _(Guffaw with cleft palates.)_ O jays! + +_(Their paintspeckled hats wag. Spattered with size and lime of their +lodges they frisk limblessly about him.)_ + +BLOOM: Coincidence too. They think it funny. Anything but that. Broad +daylight. Trying to walk. Lucky no woman. + +THE LOITERERS: Jays, that’s a good one. Glauber salts. O jays, into the +men’s porter. + +_(Bloom passes. Cheap whores, singly, coupled, shawled, dishevelled, +call from lanes, doors, corners.)_ + +THE WHORES: + +Are you going far, queer fellow? + +How’s your middle leg? + +Got a match on you? + +Eh, come here till I stiffen it for you. + +_(He plodges through their sump towards the lighted street beyond. From +a bulge of window curtains a gramophone rears a battered brazen trunk. +In the shadow a shebeenkeeper haggles with the navvy and the two +redcoats.)_ + +THE NAVVY: _(Belching.)_ Where’s the bloody house? + +THE SHEBEENKEEPER: Purdon street. Shilling a bottle of stout. +Respectable woman. + +THE NAVVY: _(Gripping the two redcoats, staggers forward with them.)_ +Come on, you British army! + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Behind his back.)_ He aint half balmy. + +PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Laughs.)_ What ho! + +PRIVATE CARR: _(To the navvy.)_ Portobello barracks canteen. You ask +for Carr. Just Carr. + +THE NAVVY: _(Shouts.)_ + + We are the boys. Of Wexford. + +PRIVATE COMPTON: Say! What price the sergeantmajor? + +PRIVATE CARR: Bennett? He’s my pal. I love old Bennett. + +THE NAVVY: _(Shouts.)_ + + The galling chain. + And free our native land. + +_(He staggers forward, dragging them with him. Bloom stops, at fault. +The dog approaches, his tongue outlolling, panting.)_ + +BLOOM: Wildgoose chase this. Disorderly houses. Lord knows where they +are gone. Drunks cover distance double quick. Nice mixup. Scene at +Westland row. Then jump in first class with third ticket. Then too far. +Train with engine behind. Might have taken me to Malahide or a siding +for the night or collision. Second drink does it. Once is a dose. What +am I following him for? Still, he’s the best of that lot. If I hadn’t +heard about Mrs Beaufoy Purefoy I wouldn’t have gone and wouldn’t have +met. Kismet. He’ll lose that cash. Relieving office here. Good biz for +cheapjacks, organs. What do ye lack? Soon got, soon gone. Might have +lost my life too with that mangongwheeltracktrolleyglarejuggernaut only +for presence of mind. Can’t always save you, though. If I had passed +Truelock’s window that day two minutes later would have been shot. +Absence of body. Still if bullet only went through my coat get damages +for shock, five hundred pounds. What was he? Kildare street club toff. +God help his gamekeeper. + +_(He gazes ahead, reading on the wall a scrawled chalk legend_ Wet +Dream _and a phallic design._) Odd! Molly drawing on the frosted +carriagepane at Kingstown. What’s that like? _(Gaudy dollwomen loll in +the lighted doorways, in window embrasures, smoking birdseye +cigarettes. The odour of the sicksweet weed floats towards him in slow +round ovalling wreaths.)_ + +THE WREATHS: Sweet are the sweets. Sweets of sin. + +BLOOM: My spine’s a bit limp. Go or turn? And this food? Eat it and get +all pigsticky. Absurd I am. Waste of money. One and eightpence too +much. _(The retriever drives a cold snivelling muzzle against his hand, +wagging his tail.)_ Strange how they take to me. Even that brute today. +Better speak to him first. Like women they like _rencontres._ Stinks +like a polecat. _Chacun son goût_. He might be mad. Dogdays. Uncertain +in his movements. Good fellow! Fido! Good fellow! Garryowen! _(The +wolfdog sprawls on his back, wriggling obscenely with begging paws, his +long black tongue lolling out.)_ Influence of his surroundings. Give +and have done with it. Provided nobody. _(Calling encouraging words he +shambles back with a furtive poacher’s tread, dogged by the setter into +a dark stalestunk corner. He unrolls one parcel and goes to dump the +crubeen softly but holds back and feels the trotter.)_ Sizeable for +threepence. But then I have it in my left hand. Calls for more effort. +Why? Smaller from want of use. O, let it slide. Two and six. + +_(With regret he lets the unrolled crubeen and trotter slide. The +mastiff mauls the bundle clumsily and gluts himself with growling +greed, crunching the bones. Two raincaped watch approach, silent, +vigilant. They murmur together.)_ + +THE WATCH: Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom. + +_(Each lays hand on Bloom’s shoulder.)_ + +FIRST WATCH: Caught in the act. Commit no nuisance. + +BLOOM: _(Stammers.)_ I am doing good to others. + +_(A covey of gulls, storm petrels, rises hungrily from Liffey slime +with Banbury cakes in their beaks.)_ + +THE GULLS: Kaw kave kankury kake. + +BLOOM: The friend of man. Trained by kindness. + +_(He points. Bob Doran, toppling from a high barstool, sways over the +munching spaniel.)_ + +BOB DORAN: Towser. Give us the paw. Give the paw. + +_(The bulldog growls, his scruff standing, a gobbet of pig’s knuckle +between his molars through which rabid scumspittle dribbles. Bob Doran +falls silently into an area.)_ + +SECOND WATCH: Prevention of cruelty to animals. + +BLOOM: _(Enthusiastically.)_ A noble work! I scolded that tramdriver on +Harold’s cross bridge for illusing the poor horse with his harness +scab. Bad French I got for my pains. Of course it was frosty and the +last tram. All tales of circus life are highly demoralising. + +_(Signor Maffei, passionpale, in liontamer’s costume with diamond studs +in his shirtfront, steps forward, holding a circus paperhoop, a curling +carriagewhip and a revolver with which he covers the gorging +boarhound.)_ + +SIGNOR MAFFEI: _(With a sinister smile.)_ Ladies and gentlemen, my +educated greyhound. It was I broke in the bucking broncho Ajax with my +patent spiked saddle for carnivores. Lash under the belly with a +knotted thong. Block tackle and a strangling pulley will bring your +lion to heel, no matter how fractious, even _Leo ferox_ there, the +Libyan maneater. A redhot crowbar and some liniment rubbing on the +burning part produced Fritz of Amsterdam, the thinking hyena. _(He +glares.)_ I possess the Indian sign. The glint of my eye does it with +these breastsparklers. _(With a bewitching smile.)_ I now introduce +Mademoiselle Ruby, the pride of the ring. + +FIRST WATCH: Come. Name and address. + +BLOOM: I have forgotten for the moment. Ah, yes! _(He takes off his +high grade hat, saluting.)_ Dr Bloom, Leopold, dental surgeon. You have +heard of von Blum Pasha. Umpteen millions. _Donnerwetter!_ Owns half +Austria. Egypt. Cousin. + +FIRST WATCH: Proof. + +_(A card falls from inside the leather headband of Bloom’s hat.)_ + +BLOOM: _(In red fez, cadi’s dress coat with broad green sash, wearing a +false badge of the Legion of Honour, picks up the card hastily and +offers it.)_ Allow me. My club is the Junior Army and Navy. Solicitors: +Messrs John Henry Menton, 27 Bachelor’s Walk. + +FIRST WATCH: _(Reads.)_ Henry Flower. No fixed abode. Unlawfully +watching and besetting. + +SECOND WATCH: An alibi. You are cautioned. + +BLOOM: _(Produces from his heartpocket a crumpled yellow flower.)_ This +is the flower in question. It was given me by a man I don’t know his +name. _(Plausibly.)_ You know that old joke, rose of Castile. Bloom. +The change of name. Virag. _(He murmurs privately and confidentially.)_ +We are engaged you see, sergeant. Lady in the case. Love entanglement. +_(He shoulders the second watch gently.)_ Dash it all. It’s a way we +gallants have in the navy. Uniform that does it. _(He turns gravely to +the first watch.)_ Still, of course, you do get your Waterloo +sometimes. Drop in some evening and have a glass of old Burgundy. _(To +the second watch gaily.)_ I’ll introduce you, inspector. She’s game. Do +it in the shake of a lamb’s tail. + +_(A dark mercurialised face appears, leading a veiled figure.)_ + +THE DARK MERCURY: The Castle is looking for him. He was drummed out of +the army. + +MARTHA: _(Thickveiled, a crimson halter round her neck, a copy of the_ +Irish Times _in her hand, in tone of reproach, pointing.)_ Henry! +Leopold! Lionel, thou lost one! Clear my name. + +FIRST WATCH: _(Sternly.)_ Come to the station. + +BLOOM: _(Scared, hats himself, steps back, then, plucking at his heart +and lifting his right forearm on the square, he gives the sign and +dueguard of fellowcraft.)_ No, no, worshipful master, light of love. +Mistaken identity. The Lyons mail. Lesurques and Dubosc. You remember +the Childs fratricide case. We medical men. By striking him dead with a +hatchet. I am wrongfully accused. Better one guilty escape than +ninetynine wrongfully condemned. + +MARTHA: _(Sobbing behind her veil.)_ Breach of promise. My real name is +Peggy Griffin. He wrote to me that he was miserable. I’ll tell my +brother, the Bective rugger fullback, on you, heartless flirt. + +BLOOM: _(Behind his hand.)_ She’s drunk. The woman is inebriated. _(He +murmurs vaguely the pass of Ephraim.)_ Shitbroleeth. + +SECOND WATCH: _(Tears in his eyes, to Bloom.)_ You ought to be +thoroughly well ashamed of yourself. + +BLOOM: Gentlemen of the jury, let me explain. A pure mare’s nest. I am +a man misunderstood. I am being made a scapegoat of. I am a respectable +married man, without a stain on my character. I live in Eccles street. +My wife, I am the daughter of a most distinguished commander, a gallant +upstanding gentleman, what do you call him, Majorgeneral Brian Tweedy, +one of Britain’s fighting men who helped to win our battles. Got his +majority for the heroic defence of Rorke’s Drift. + +FIRST WATCH: Regiment. + +BLOOM: _(Turns to the gallery.)_ The royal Dublins, boys, the salt of +the earth, known the world over. I think I see some old comrades in +arms up there among you. The R. D. F., with our own Metropolitan +police, guardians of our homes, the pluckiest lads and the finest body +of men, as physique, in the service of our sovereign. + +A VOICE: Turncoat! Up the Boers! Who booed Joe Chamberlain? + +BLOOM: _(His hand on the shoulder of the first watch.)_ My old dad too +was a J. P. I’m as staunch a Britisher as you are, sir. I fought with +the colours for king and country in the absentminded war under general +Gough in the park and was disabled at Spion Kop and Bloemfontein, was +mentioned in dispatches. I did all a white man could. _(With quiet +feeling.)_ Jim Bludso. Hold her nozzle again the bank. + +FIRST WATCH: Profession or trade. + +BLOOM: Well, I follow a literary occupation, author-journalist. In fact +we are just bringing out a collection of prize stories of which I am +the inventor, something that is an entirely new departure. I am +connected with the British and Irish press. If you ring up... + +_(Myles Crawford strides out jerkily, a quill between his teeth. His +scarlet beak blazes within the aureole of his straw hat. He dangles a +hank of Spanish onions in one hand and holds with the other hand a +telephone receiver nozzle to his ear.)_ + +MYLES CRAWFORD: _(His cock’s wattles wagging.)_ Hello, seventyseven +eightfour. Hello. _Freeman’s Urinal_ and _Weekly Arsewipe_ here. +Paralyse Europe. You which? Bluebags? Who writes? Is it Bloom? + +_(Mr Philip Beaufoy, palefaced, stands in the witnessbox, in accurate +morning dress, outbreast pocket with peak of handkerchief showing, +creased lavender trousers and patent boots. He carries a large +portfolio labelled_ Matcham’s Masterstrokes.) + +BEAUFOY: _(Drawls.)_ No, you aren’t. Not by a long shot if I know it. I +don’t see it, that’s all. No born gentleman, no-one with the most +rudimentary promptings of a gentleman would stoop to such particularly +loathsome conduct. One of those, my lord. A plagiarist. A soapy sneak +masquerading as a literateur. It’s perfectly obvious that with the most +inherent baseness he has cribbed some of my bestselling copy, really +gorgeous stuff, a perfect gem, the love passages in which are beneath +suspicion. The Beaufoy books of love and great possessions, with which +your lordship is doubtless familiar, are a household word throughout +the kingdom. + +BLOOM: _(Murmurs with hangdog meekness glum.)_ That bit about the +laughing witch hand in hand I take exception to, if I may... + +BEAUFOY: _(His lip upcurled, smiles superciliously on the court.)_ You +funny ass, you! You’re too beastly awfully weird for words! I don’t +think you need over excessively disincommodate yourself in that regard. +My literary agent Mr J. B. Pinker is in attendance. I presume, my lord, +we shall receive the usual witnesses’ fees, shan’t we? We are +considerably out of pocket over this bally pressman johnny, this +jackdaw of Rheims, who has not even been to a university. + +BLOOM: _(Indistinctly.)_ University of life. Bad art. + +BEAUFOY: _(Shouts.)_ It’s a damnably foul lie, showing the moral +rottenness of the man! _(He extends his portfolio.)_ We have here +damning evidence, the _corpus delicti_, my lord, a specimen of my +maturer work disfigured by the hallmark of the beast. + +A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY: + + Moses, Moses, king of the jews, + Wiped his arse in the _Daily News_. + +BLOOM: _(Bravely.)_ Overdrawn. + +BEAUFOY: You low cad! You ought to be ducked in the horsepond, you +rotter! _(To the court.)_ Why, look at the man’s private life! Leading +a quadruple existence! Street angel and house devil. Not fit to be +mentioned in mixed society! The archconspirator of the age! + +BLOOM: _(To the court.)_ And he, a bachelor, how... + +FIRST WATCH: The King versus Bloom. Call the woman Driscoll. + +THE CRIER: Mary Driscoll, scullerymaid! + +_(Mary Driscoll, a slipshod servant girl, approaches. She has a bucket +on the crook of her arm and a scouringbrush in her hand.)_ + +SECOND WATCH: Another! Are you of the unfortunate class? + +MARY DRISCOLL: _(Indignantly.)_ I’m not a bad one. I bear a respectable +character and was four months in my last place. I was in a situation, +six pounds a year and my chances with Fridays out and I had to leave +owing to his carryings on. + +FIRST WATCH: What do you tax him with? + +MARY DRISCOLL: He made a certain suggestion but I thought more of +myself as poor as I am. + +BLOOM: _(In housejacket of ripplecloth, flannel trousers, heelless +slippers, unshaven, his hair rumpled: softly.)_ I treated you white. I +gave you mementos, smart emerald garters far above your station. +Incautiously I took your part when you were accused of pilfering. +There’s a medium in all things. Play cricket. + +MARY DRISCOLL: _(Excitedly.)_ As God is looking down on me this night +if ever I laid a hand to them oylsters! + +FIRST WATCH: The offence complained of? Did something happen? + +MARY DRISCOLL: He surprised me in the rere of the premises, Your +honour, when the missus was out shopping one morning with a request for +a safety pin. He held me and I was discoloured in four places as a +result. And he interfered twict with my clothing. + +BLOOM: She counterassaulted. + +MARY DRISCOLL: _(Scornfully.)_ I had more respect for the +scouringbrush, so I had. I remonstrated with him, Your lord, and he +remarked: keep it quiet. + +_(General laughter.)_ + +GEORGE FOTTRELL: _(Clerk of the crown and peace, resonantly.)_ Order in +court! The accused will now make a bogus statement. + +_(Bloom, pleading not guilty and holding a fullblown waterlily, begins +a long unintelligible speech. They would hear what counsel had to say +in his stirring address to the grand jury. He was down and out but, +though branded as a black sheep, if he might say so, he meant to +reform, to retrieve the memory of the past in a purely sisterly way and +return to nature as a purely domestic animal. A sevenmonths’ child, he +had been carefully brought up and nurtured by an aged bedridden parent. +There might have been lapses of an erring father but he wanted to turn +over a new leaf and now, when at long last in sight of the whipping +post, to lead a homely life in the evening of his days, permeated by +the affectionate surroundings of the heaving bosom of the family. An +acclimatised Britisher, he had seen that summer eve from the footplate +of an engine cab of the Loop line railway company while the rain +refrained from falling glimpses, as it were, through the windows of +loveful households in Dublin city and urban district of scenes truly +rural of happiness of the better land with Dockrell’s wallpaper at one +and ninepence a dozen, innocent Britishborn bairns lisping prayers to +the Sacred Infant, youthful scholars grappling with their pensums or +model young ladies playing on the pianoforte or anon all with fervour +reciting the family rosary round the crackling Yulelog while in the +boreens and green lanes the colleens with their swains strolled what +times the strains of the organtoned melodeon Britannia metalbound with +four acting stops and twelvefold bellows, a sacrifice, greatest bargain +ever...._ + +_(Renewed laughter. He mumbles incoherently. Reporters complain that +they cannot hear.)_ + +LONGHAND AND SHORTHAND: _(Without looking up from their notebooks.)_ +Loosen his boots. + +PROFESSOR MACHUGH: _(From the presstable, coughs and calls.)_ Cough it +up, man. Get it out in bits. + +_(The crossexamination proceeds_ re _Bloom and the bucket. A large +bucket. Bloom himself. Bowel trouble. In Beaver street. Gripe, yes. +Quite bad. A plasterer’s bucket. By walking stifflegged. Suffered +untold misery. Deadly agony. About noon. Love or burgundy. Yes, some +spinach. Crucial moment. He did not look in the bucket. Nobody. Rather +a mess. Not completely. A_ Titbits _back number_.) + +_(Uproar and catcalls. Bloom in a torn frockcoat stained with +whitewash, dinged silk hat sideways on his head, a strip of +stickingplaster across his nose, talks inaudibly.)_ + +J. J. O’MOLLOY: _(In barrister’s grey wig and stuffgown, speaking with +a voice of pained protest.)_ This is no place for indecent levity at +the expense of an erring mortal disguised in liquor. We are not in a +beargarden nor at an Oxford rag nor is this a travesty of justice. My +client is an infant, a poor foreign immigrant who started scratch as a +stowaway and is now trying to turn an honest penny. The trumped up +misdemeanour was due to a momentary aberration of heredity, brought on +by hallucination, such familiarities as the alleged guilty occurrence +being quite permitted in my client’s native place, the land of the +Pharaoh. _Prima facie_, I put it to you that there was no attempt at +carnally knowing. Intimacy did not occur and the offence complained of +by Driscoll, that her virtue was solicited, was not repeated. I would +deal in especial with atavism. There have been cases of shipwreck and +somnambulism in my client’s family. If the accused could speak he could +a tale unfold—one of the strangest that have ever been narrated between +the covers of a book. He himself, my lord, is a physical wreck from +cobbler’s weak chest. His submission is that he is of Mongolian +extraction and irresponsible for his actions. Not all there, in fact. + +BLOOM: _(Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in lascar’s vest and trousers, +apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole’s eyes and looks about +him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his forehead. Then he hitches +his belt sailor fashion and with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes +the court, pointing one thumb heavenward.)_ Him makee velly muchee fine +night. _(He begins to lilt simply.)_ + + Li li poo lil chile + Blingee pigfoot evly night + Payee two shilly... + +_(He is howled down.)_ + +J. J. O’MOLLOY: _(Hotly to the populace.)_ This is a lonehand fight. By +Hades, I will not have any client of mine gagged and badgered in this +fashion by a pack of curs and laughing hyenas. The Mosaic code has +superseded the law of the jungle. I say it and I say it emphatically, +without wishing for one moment to defeat the ends of justice, accused +was not accessory before the act and prosecutrix has not been tampered +with. The young person was treated by defendant as if she were his very +own daughter. _(Bloom takes J. J. O’Molloy’s hand and raises it to his +lips.)_ I shall call rebutting evidence to prove up to the hilt that +the hidden hand is again at its old game. When in doubt persecute +Bloom. My client, an innately bashful man, would be the last man in the +world to do anything ungentlemanly which injured modesty could object +to or cast a stone at a girl who took the wrong turning when some +dastard, responsible for her condition, had worked his own sweet will +on her. He wants to go straight. I regard him as the whitest man I +know. He is down on his luck at present owing to the mortgaging of his +extensive property at Agendath Netaim in faraway Asia Minor, slides of +which will now be shown. _(To Bloom.)_ I suggest that you will do the +handsome thing. + +BLOOM: A penny in the pound. + +_(The image of the lake of Kinnereth with blurred cattle cropping in +silver haze is projected on the wall. Moses Dlugacz, ferreteyed albino, +in blue dungarees, stands up in the gallery, holding in each hand an +orange citron and a pork kidney.)_ + +DLUGACZ: _(Hoarsely.)_ Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W. 13. + +_(J. J. O’Molloy steps on to a low plinth and holds the lapel of his +coat with solemnity. His face lengthens, grows pale and bearded, with +sunken eyes, the blotches of phthisis and hectic cheekbones of John F. +Taylor. He applies his handkerchief to his mouth and scrutinises the +galloping tide of rosepink blood.)_ + +J. J. O’MOLLOY: _(Almost voicelessly.)_ Excuse me. I am suffering from +a severe chill, have recently come from a sickbed. A few wellchosen +words. _(He assumes the avine head, foxy moustache and proboscidal +eloquence of Seymour Bushe.)_ When the angel’s book comes to be opened +if aught that the pensive bosom has inaugurated of soultransfigured and +of soultransfiguring deserves to live I say accord the prisoner at the +bar the sacred benefit of the doubt. + +_(A paper with something written on it is handed into court._) + +BLOOM: _(In court dress.)_ Can give best references. Messrs Callan, +Coleman. Mr Wisdom Hely J. P. My old chief Joe Cuffe. Mr V. B. Dillon, +ex lord mayor of Dublin. I have moved in the charmed circle of the +highest... Queens of Dublin society. _(Carelessly.)_ I was just +chatting this afternoon at the viceregal lodge to my old pals, sir +Robert and lady Ball, astronomer royal, at the levee. Sir Bob, I +said... + +MRS YELVERTON BARRY: _(In lowcorsaged opal balldress and elbowlength +ivory gloves, wearing a sabletrimmed brickquilted dolman, a comb of +brilliants and panache of osprey in her hair.)_ Arrest him, constable. +He wrote me an anonymous letter in prentice backhand when my husband +was in the North Riding of Tipperary on the Munster circuit, signed +James Lovebirch. He said that he had seen from the gods my peerless +globes as I sat in a box of the _Theatre Royal_ at a command +performance of _La Cigale_. I deeply inflamed him, he said. He made +improper overtures to me to misconduct myself at half past four p.m. on +the following Thursday, Dunsink time. He offered to send me through the +post a work of fiction by Monsieur Paul de Kock, entitled _The Girl +with the Three Pairs of Stays_. + +MRS BELLINGHAM: _(In cap and seal coney mantle, wrapped up to the nose, +steps out of her brougham and scans through tortoiseshell +quizzing-glasses which she takes from inside her huge opossum muff.)_ +Also to me. Yes, I believe it is the same objectionable person. Because +he closed my carriage door outside sir Thornley Stoker’s one sleety day +during the cold snap of February ninetythree when even the grid of the +wastepipe and the ballstop in my bath cistern were frozen. Subsequently +he enclosed a bloom of edelweiss culled on the heights, as he said, in +my honour. I had it examined by a botanical expert and elicited the +information that it was a blossom of the homegrown potato plant +purloined from a forcingcase of the model farm. + +MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Shame on him! + +_(A crowd of sluts and ragamuffins surges forward.)_ + +THE SLUTS AND RAGAMUFFINS: _(Screaming.)_ Stop thief! Hurrah there, +Bluebeard! Three cheers for Ikey Mo! + +SECOND WATCH: _(Produces handcuffs.)_ Here are the darbies. + +MRS BELLINGHAM: He addressed me in several handwritings with fulsome +compliments as a Venus in furs and alleged profound pity for my +frostbound coachman Palmer while in the same breath he expressed +himself as envious of his earflaps and fleecy sheepskins and of his +fortunate proximity to my person, when standing behind my chair wearing +my livery and the armorial bearings of the Bellingham escutcheon +garnished sable, a buck’s head couped or. He lauded almost +extravagantly my nether extremities, my swelling calves in silk hose +drawn up to the limit, and eulogised glowingly my other hidden +treasures in priceless lace which, he said, he could conjure up. He +urged me (Stating that he felt it his mission in life to urge me.) to +defile the marriage bed, to commit adultery at the earliest possible +opportunity. + +THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(In amazon costume, hard hat, +jackboots cockspurred, vermilion waistcoat, fawn musketeer gauntlets +with braided drums, long train held up and hunting crop with which she +strikes her welt constantly.)_ Also me. Because he saw me on the polo +ground of the Phoenix park at the match All Ireland versus the Rest of +Ireland. My eyes, I know, shone divinely as I watched Captain Slogger +Dennehy of the Inniskillings win the final chukkar on his darling cob +_Centaur._ This plebeian Don Juan observed me from behind a hackney car +and sent me in double envelopes an obscene photograph, such as are sold +after dark on Paris boulevards, insulting to any lady. I have it still. +It represents a partially nude señorita, frail and lovely (his wife, as +he solemnly assured me, taken by him from nature), practising illicit +intercourse with a muscular torero, evidently a blackguard. He urged me +to do likewise, to misbehave, to sin with officers of the garrison. He +implored me to soil his letter in an unspeakable manner, to chastise +him as he richly deserves, to bestride and ride him, to give him a most +vicious horsewhipping. + +MRS BELLINGHAM: Me too. + +MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Me too. + +_(Several highly respectable Dublin ladies hold up improper letters +received from Bloom.)_ + +THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(Stamps her jingling spurs in a +sudden paroxysm of fury.)_ I will, by the God above me. I’ll scourge +the pigeonlivered cur as long as I can stand over him. I’ll flay him +alive. + +BLOOM: _(His eyes closing, quails expectantly.)_ Here? _(He squirms.)_ +Again! _(He pants cringing.)_ I love the danger. + +THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: Very much so! I’ll make it hot for +you. I’ll make you dance Jack Latten for that. + +MRS BELLINGHAM: Tan his breech well, the upstart! Write the stars and +stripes on it! + +MRS YELVERTON BARRY: Disgraceful! There’s no excuse for him! A married +man! + +BLOOM: All these people. I meant only the spanking idea. A warm +tingling glow without effusion. Refined birching to stimulate the +circulation. + +THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(Laughs derisively.)_ O, did you, +my fine fellow? Well, by the living God, you’ll get the surprise of +your life now, believe me, the most unmerciful hiding a man ever +bargained for. You have lashed the dormant tigress in my nature into +fury. + +MRS BELLINGHAM: _(Shakes her muff and quizzing-glasses vindictively.)_ +Make him smart, Hanna dear. Give him ginger. Thrash the mongrel within +an inch of his life. The cat-o’-nine-tails. Geld him. Vivisect him. + +BLOOM: _(Shuddering, shrinking, joins his hands: with hangdog mien.)_ O +cold! O shivery! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. +Let me off this once. _(He offers the other cheek.)_ + +MRS YELVERTON BARRY: _(Severely.)_ Don’t do so on any account, Mrs +Talboys! He should be soundly trounced! + +THE HONOURABLE MRS MERVYN TALBOYS: _(Unbuttoning her gauntlet +violently.)_ I’ll do no such thing. Pigdog and always was ever since he +was pupped! To dare address me! I’ll flog him black and blue in the +public streets. I’ll dig my spurs in him up to the rowel. He is a +wellknown cuckold. _(She swishes her huntingcrop savagely in the air.)_ +Take down his trousers without loss of time. Come here, sir! Quick! +Ready? + +BLOOM: _(Trembling, beginning to obey.)_ The weather has been so warm. + +_(Davy Stephens, ringletted, passes with a bevy of barefoot newsboys.)_ + +DAVY STEPHENS: _Messenger of the Sacred Heart_ and _Evening Telegraph_ +with Saint Patrick’s Day supplement. Containing the new addresses of +all the cuckolds in Dublin. + +_(The very reverend Canon O’Hanlon in cloth of gold cope elevates and +exposes a marble timepiece. Before him Father Conroy and the reverend +John Hughes S. J. bend low.)_ + +THE TIMEPIECE: _(Unportalling.)_ + + Cuckoo. + Cuckoo. + Cuckoo. + +_(The brass quoits of a bed are heard to jingle.)_ + +THE QUOITS: Jigjag. Jigajiga. Jigjag. + +_(A panel of fog rolls back rapidly, revealing rapidly in the jurybox +the faces of Martin Cunningham, foreman, silkhatted, Jack Power, Simon +Dedalus, Tom Kernan, Ned Lambert, John Henry Menton, Myles Crawford, +Lenehan, Paddy Leonard, Nosey Flynn, M’Coy and the featureless face of +a Nameless One.)_ + +THE NAMELESS ONE: Bareback riding. Weight for age. Gob, he organised +her. + +THE JURORS: _(All their heads turned to his voice.)_ Really? + +THE NAMELESS ONE: _(Snarls.)_ Arse over tip. Hundred shillings to five. + +THE JURORS: _(All their heads lowered in assent.)_ Most of us thought +as much. + +FIRST WATCH: He is a marked man. Another girl’s plait cut. Wanted: Jack +the Ripper. A thousand pounds reward. + +SECOND WATCH: _(Awed, whispers.)_ And in black. A mormon. Anarchist. + +THE CRIER: _(Loudly.)_ Whereas Leopold Bloom of no fixed abode is a +wellknown dynamitard, forger, bigamist, bawd and cuckold and a public +nuisance to the citizens of Dublin and whereas at this commission of +assizes the most honourable... + +_(His Honour, sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, in judicial +garb of grey stone rises from the bench, stonebearded. He bears in his +arms an umbrella sceptre. From his forehead arise starkly the Mosaic +ramshorns.)_ + +THE RECORDER: I will put an end to this white slave traffic and rid +Dublin of this odious pest. Scandalous! _(He dons the black cap.)_ Let +him be taken, Mr Subsheriff, from the dock where he now stands and +detained in custody in Mountjoy prison during His Majesty’s pleasure +and there be hanged by the neck until he is dead and therein fail not +at your peril or may the Lord have mercy on your soul. Remove him. _(A +black skullcap descends upon his head.)_ + +_(The subsheriff Long John Fanning appears, smoking a pungent Henry +Clay.)_ + +LONG JOHN FANNING: _(Scowls and calls with rich rolling utterance.)_ +Who’ll hang Judas Iscariot? + +_(H. Rumbold, master barber, in a bloodcoloured jerkin and tanner’s +apron, a rope coiled over his shoulder, mounts the block. A life +preserver and a nailstudded bludgeon are stuck in his belt. He rubs +grimly his grappling hands, knobbed with knuckledusters.)_ + +RUMBOLD: _(To the recorder with sinister familiarity.)_ Hanging Harry, +your Majesty, the Mersey terror. Five guineas a jugular. Neck or +nothing. + +_(The bells of George’s church toll slowly, loud dark iron.)_ + +THE BELLS: Heigho! Heigho! + +BLOOM: _(Desperately.)_ Wait. Stop. Gulls. Good heart. I saw. +Innocence. Girl in the monkeyhouse. Zoo. Lewd chimpanzee. +_(Breathlessly.)_ Pelvic basin. Her artless blush unmanned me. +_(Overcome with emotion.)_ I left the precincts. (He turns to a figure +in the crowd, appealing.) Hynes, may I speak to you? You know me. That +three shillings you can keep. If you want a little more... + +HYNES: _(Coldly.)_ You are a perfect stranger. + +SECOND WATCH: _(Points to the corner.)_ The bomb is here. + +FIRST WATCH: Infernal machine with a time fuse. + +BLOOM: No, no. Pig’s feet. I was at a funeral. + +FIRST WATCH: _(Draws his truncheon.)_ Liar! + +_(The beagle lifts his snout, showing the grey scorbutic face of Paddy +Dignam. He has gnawed all. He exhales a putrid carcasefed breath. He +grows to human size and shape. His dachshund coat becomes a brown +mortuary habit. His green eye flashes bloodshot. Half of one ear, all +the nose and both thumbs are ghouleaten.)_ + +PADDY DIGNAM: _(In a hollow voice.)_ It is true. It was my funeral. +Doctor Finucane pronounced life extinct when I succumbed to the disease +from natural causes. + +_(He lifts his mutilated ashen face moonwards and bays lugubriously.)_ + +BLOOM: _(In triumph.)_ You hear? + +PADDY DIGNAM: Bloom, I am Paddy Dignam’s spirit. List, list, O list! + +BLOOM: The voice is the voice of Esau. + +SECOND WATCH: _(Blesses himself.)_ How is that possible? + +FIRST WATCH: It is not in the penny catechism. + +PADDY DIGNAM: By metempsychosis. Spooks. + +A VOICE: O rocks. + +PADDY DIGNAM: _(Earnestly.)_ Once I was in the employ of Mr J. H. +Menton, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits, of 27 +Bachelor’s Walk. Now I am defunct, the wall of the heart hypertrophied. +Hard lines. The poor wife was awfully cut up. How is she bearing it? +Keep her off that bottle of sherry. _(He looks round him.)_ A lamp. I +must satisfy an animal need. That buttermilk didn’t agree with me. + +_(The portly figure of John O’Connell, caretaker, stands forth, holding +a bunch of keys tied with crape. Beside him stands Father Coffey, +chaplain, toadbellied, wrynecked, in a surplice and bandanna nightcap, +holding sleepily a staff of twisted poppies.)_ + +FATHER COFFEY: _(Yawns, then chants with a hoarse croak.)_ Namine. +Jacobs. Vobiscuits. Amen. + +JOHN O’CONNELL: _(Foghorns stormily through his megaphone.)_ Dignam, +Patrick T, deceased. + +PADDY DIGNAM: _(With pricked up ears, winces.)_ Overtones. _(He +wriggles forward and places an ear to the ground.)_ My master’s voice! + +JOHN O’CONNELL: Burial docket letter number U. P. eightyfive thousand. +Field seventeen. House of Keys. Plot, one hundred and one. + +_(Paddy Dignam listens with visible effort, thinking, his tail +stiffpointed, his ears cocked.)_ + +PADDY DIGNAM: Pray for the repose of his soul. + +_(He worms down through a coalhole, his brown habit trailing its tether +over rattling pebbles. After him toddles an obese grandfather rat on +fungus turtle paws under a grey carapace. Dignam’s voice, muffled, is +heard baying under ground:_ Dignam’s dead and gone below. _Tom +Rochford, robinredbreasted, in cap and breeches, jumps from his +twocolumned machine.)_ + +TOM ROCHFORD: _(A hand to his breastbone, bows.)_ Reuben J. A florin I +find him. _(He fixes the manhole with a resolute stare.)_ My turn now +on. Follow me up to Carlow. + +_(He executes a daredevil salmon leap in the air and is engulfed in the +coalhole. Two discs on the columns wobble, eyes of nought. All recedes. +Bloom plodges forward again through the sump. Kisses chirp amid the +rifts of fog. A piano sounds. He stands before a lighted house, +listening. The kisses, winging from their bowers, fly about him, +twittering, warbling, cooing.)_ + +THE KISSES: _(Warbling.)_ Leo! _(Twittering.)_ Icky licky micky sticky +for Leo! _(Cooing.)_ Coo coocoo! Yummyyum, Womwom! _(Warbling.)_ Big +comebig! Pirouette! Leopopold! _(Twittering.)_ Leeolee! _(Warbling.)_ O +Leo! + +_(They rustle, flutter upon his garments, alight, bright giddy flecks, +silvery sequins.)_ + +BLOOM: A man’s touch. Sad music. Church music. Perhaps here. + +_(Zoe Higgins, a young whore in a sapphire slip, closed with three +bronze buckles, a slim black velvet fillet round her throat, nods, +trips down the steps and accosts him.)_ + +ZOE: Are you looking for someone? He’s inside with his friend. + +BLOOM: Is this Mrs Mack’s? + +ZOE: No, eightyone. Mrs Cohen’s. You might go farther and fare worse. +Mother Slipperslapper. _(Familiarly.)_ She’s on the job herself tonight +with the vet her tipster that gives her all the winners and pays for +her son in Oxford. Working overtime but her luck’s turned today. +_(Suspiciously.)_ You’re not his father, are you? + +BLOOM: Not I! + +ZOE: You both in black. Has little mousey any tickles tonight? + +_(His skin, alert, feels her fingertips approach. A hand glides over +his left thigh.)_ + +ZOE: How’s the nuts? + +BLOOM: Off side. Curiously they are on the right. Heavier, I suppose. +One in a million my tailor, Mesias, says. + +ZOE: _(In sudden alarm.)_ You’ve a hard chancre. + +BLOOM: Not likely. + +ZOE: I feel it. + +_(Her hand slides into his left trouser pocket and brings out a hard +black shrivelled potato. She regards it and Bloom with dumb moist +lips.)_ + +BLOOM: A talisman. Heirloom. + +ZOE: For Zoe? For keeps? For being so nice, eh? + +_(She puts the potato greedily into a pocket then links his arm, +cuddling him with supple warmth. He smiles uneasily. Slowly, note by +note, oriental music is played. He gazes in the tawny crystal of her +eyes, ringed with kohol. His smile softens.)_ + +ZOE: You’ll know me the next time. + +BLOOM: _(Forlornly.)_ I never loved a dear gazelle but it was sure +to... + +_(Gazelles are leaping, feeding on the mountains. Near are lakes. Round +their shores file shadows black of cedargroves. Aroma rises, a strong +hairgrowth of resin. It burns, the orient, a sky of sapphire, cleft by +the bronze flight of eagles. Under it lies the womancity, nude, white, +still, cool, in luxury. A fountain murmurs among damask roses. Mammoth +roses murmur of scarlet winegrapes. A wine of shame, lust, blood +exudes, strangely murmuring.)_ + +ZOE: _(Murmuring singsong with the music, her odalisk lips lusciously +smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater.) Schorach ani wenowach, +benoith Hierushaloim._ + +BLOOM: _(Fascinated.)_ I thought you were of good stock by your accent. + +ZOE: And you know what thought did? + +_(She bites his ear gently with little goldstopped teeth, sending on +him a cloying breath of stale garlic. The roses draw apart, disclose a +sepulchre of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Draws back, mechanically caressing her right bub with a flat +awkward hand.)_ Are you a Dublin girl? + +ZOE: _(Catches a stray hair deftly and twists it to her coil.)_ No +bloody fear. I’m English. Have you a swaggerroot? + +BLOOM: _(As before.)_ Rarely smoke, dear. Cigar now and then. Childish +device. _(Lewdly.)_ The mouth can be better engaged than with a +cylinder of rank weed. + +ZOE: Go on. Make a stump speech out of it. + +BLOOM: _(In workman’s corduroy overalls, black gansy with red floating +tie and apache cap.)_ Mankind is incorrigible. Sir Walter Ralegh +brought from the new world that potato and that weed, the one a killer +of pestilence by absorption, the other a poisoner of the ear, eye, +heart, memory, will, understanding, all. That is to say he brought the +poison a hundred years before another person whose name I forget +brought the food. Suicide. Lies. All our habits. Why, look at our +public life! + +_(Midnight chimes from distant steeples.)_ + +THE CHIMES: Turn again, Leopold! Lord mayor of Dublin! + +BLOOM: _(In alderman’s gown and chain.)_ Electors of Arran Quay, Inns +Quay, Rotunda, Mountjoy and North Dock, better run a tramline, I say, +from the cattlemarket to the river. That’s the music of the future. +That’s my programme. _Cui bono?_ But our bucaneering Vanderdeckens in +their phantom ship of finance... + +AN ELECTOR: Three times three for our future chief magistrate! + +_(The aurora borealis of the torchlight procession leaps.)_ + +THE TORCHBEARERS: Hooray! + +_(Several wellknown burgesses, city magnates and freemen of the city +shake hands with Bloom and congratulate him. Timothy Harrington, late +thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin, imposing in mayoral scarlet, gold chain +and white silk tie, confers with councillor Lorcan Sherlock,_ locum +tenens. _They nod vigorously in agreement.)_ + +LATE LORD MAYOR HARRINGTON: _(In scarlet robe with mace, gold mayoral +chain and large white silk scarf.)_ That alderman sir Leo Bloom’s +speech be printed at the expense of the ratepayers. That the house in +which he was born be ornamented with a commemorative tablet and that +the thoroughfare hitherto known as Cow Parlour off Cork street be +henceforth designated Boulevard Bloom. + +COUNCILLOR LORCAN SHERLOCK: Carried unanimously. + +BLOOM: _(Impassionedly.)_ These flying Dutchmen or lying Dutchmen as +they recline in their upholstered poop, casting dice, what reck they? +Machines is their cry, their chimera, their panacea. Laboursaving +apparatuses, supplanters, bugbears, manufactured monsters for mutual +murder, hideous hobgoblins produced by a horde of capitalistic lusts +upon our prostituted labour. The poor man starves while they are +grassing their royal mountain stags or shooting peasants and +phartridges in their purblind pomp of pelf and power. But their reign +is rover for rever and ever and ev... + +_(Prolonged applause. Venetian masts, maypoles and festal arches spring +up. A streamer bearing the legends_ Cead Mile Failte _and_ Mah Ttob +Melek Israel _spans the street. All the windows are thronged with +sightseers, chiefly ladies. Along the route the regiments of the Royal +Dublin Fusiliers, the King’s own Scottish Borderers, the Cameron +Highlanders and the Welsh Fusiliers, standing to attention, keep back +the crowd. Boys from High school are perched on the lampposts, +telegraph poles, windowsills, cornices, gutters, chimneypots, railings, +rainspouts, whistling and cheering. The pillar of the cloud appears. A +fife and drum band is heard in the distance playing the Kol Nidre. The +beaters approach with imperial eagles hoisted, trailing banners and +waving oriental palms. The chryselephantine papal standard rises high, +surrounded by pennons of the civic flag. The van of the procession +appears headed by John Howard Parnell, city marshal, in a chessboard +tabard, the Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms. They are +followed by the Right Honourable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of +Dublin, his lordship the lord mayor of Cork, their worships the mayors +of Limerick, Galway, Sligo and Waterford, twentyeight Irish +representative peers, sirdars, grandees and maharajahs bearing the +cloth of estate, the Dublin Metropolitan Fire Brigade, the chapter of +the saints of finance in their plutocratic order of precedence, the +bishop of Down and Connor, His Eminence Michael cardinal Logue, +archbishop of Armagh, primate of all Ireland, His Grace, the most +reverend Dr William Alexander, archbishop of Armagh, primate of all +Ireland, the chief rabbi, the presbyterian moderator, the heads of the +baptist, anabaptist, methodist and Moravian chapels and the honorary +secretary of the society of friends. After them march the guilds and +trades and trainbands with flying colours: coopers, bird fanciers, +millwrights, newspaper canvassers, law scriveners, masseurs, vintners, +trussmakers, chimneysweeps, lard refiners, tabinet and poplin weavers, +farriers, Italian warehousemen, church decorators, bootjack +manufacturers, undertakers, silk mercers, lapidaries, salesmasters, +corkcutters, assessors of fire losses, dyers and cleaners, export +bottlers, fellmongers, ticketwriters, heraldic seal engravers, horse +repository hands, bullion brokers, cricket and archery outfitters, +riddlemakers, egg and potato factors, hosiers and glovers, plumbing +contractors. After them march gentlemen of the bedchamber, Black Rod, +Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the master of horse, the lord great +chamberlain, the earl marshal, the high constable carrying the sword of +state, saint Stephen’s iron crown, the chalice and bible. Four buglers +on foot blow a sennet. Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome. +Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears, bareheaded, in a crimson velvet +mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward’s staff, the orb and +sceptre with the dove, the curtana. He is seated on a milkwhite horse +with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with golden +headstall. Wild excitement. The ladies from their balconies throw down +rosepetals. The air is perfumed with essences. The men cheer. Bloom’s +boys run amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and +wrenbushes.)_ + +BLOOM’S BOYS: + + The wren, the wren, + The king of all birds, + Saint Stephen’s his day + Was caught in the furze. + +A BLACKSMITH: _(Murmurs.)_ For the honour of God! And is that Bloom? He +scarcely looks thirtyone. + +A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That’s the famous Bloom now, the world’s greatest +reformer. Hats off! + +_(All uncover their heads. Women whisper eagerly.)_ + +A MILLIONAIRESS: _(Richly.)_ Isn’t he simply wonderful? + +A NOBLEWOMAN: _(Nobly.)_ All that man has seen! + +A FEMINIST: _(Masculinely.)_ And done! + +A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker. + +_(Bloom’s weather. A sunburst appears in the northwest.)_ + +THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: I here present your undoubted +emperor-president and king-chairman, the most serene and potent and +very puissant ruler of this realm. God save Leopold the First! + +ALL: God save Leopold the First! + +BLOOM: _(In dalmatic and purple mantle, to the bishop of Down and +Connor, with dignity.)_ Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. + +WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: _(In purple stock and shovel hat.)_ Will +you to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your +judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging? + +BLOOM: _(Placing his right hand on his testicles, swears.)_ So may the +Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do. + +MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: _(Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom’s +head.) Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Habemus carneficem._ Leopold, +Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed! + +_(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring. He +ascends and stands on the stone of destiny. The representative peers +put on at the same time their twentyeight crowns. Joybells ring in +Christ church, Saint Patrick’s, George’s and gay Malahide. Mirus bazaar +fireworks go up from all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic +designs. The peers do homage, one by one, approaching and +genuflecting.)_ + +THE PEERS: I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly +worship. + +_(Bloom holds up his right hand on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor +diamond. His palfrey neighs. Immediate silence. Wireless +intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception +of message.)_ + +BLOOM: My subjects! We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula +Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day +repudiated our former spouse and have bestowed our royal hand upon the +princess Selene, the splendour of night. + +_(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the Black +Maria. The princess Selene, in moonblue robes, a silver crescent on her +head, descends from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants. An outburst of +cheering.)_ + +JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: _(Raises the royal standard.)_ Illustrious Bloom! +Successor to my famous brother! + +BLOOM: _(Embraces John Howard Parnell.)_ We thank you from our heart, +John, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the promised land of +our common ancestors. + +_(The freedom of the city is presented to him embodied in a charter. +The keys of Dublin, crossed on a crimson cushion, are given to him. He +shows all that he is wearing green socks.)_ + +TOM KERNAN: You deserve it, your honour. + +BLOOM: On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at +Ladysmith. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with +telling effect. Half a league onward! They charge! All is lost now! Do +we yield? No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! Deploying to the +left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering +their warcry _Bonafide Sabaoth_, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man. + +THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: Hear! Hear! + +JOHN WYSE NOLAN: There’s the man that got away James Stephens. + +A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Bravo! + +AN OLD RESIDENT: You’re a credit to your country, sir, that’s what you +are. + +AN APPLEWOMAN: He’s a man like Ireland wants. + +BLOOM: My beloved subjects, a new era is about to dawn. I, Bloom, tell +you verily it is even now at hand. Yea, on the word of a Bloom, ye +shall ere long enter into the golden city which is to be, the new +Bloomusalem in the Nova Hibernia of the future. + +_(Thirtytwo workmen, wearing rosettes, from all the counties of +Ireland, under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new +Bloomusalem. It is a colossal edifice with crystal roof, built in the +shape of a huge pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. In the +course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. +Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. +Numerous houses are razed to the ground. The inhabitants are lodged in +barrels and boxes, all marked in red with the letters: L. B. Several +paupers fall from a ladder. A part of the walls of Dublin, crowded with +loyal sightseers, collapses.)_ + +THE SIGHTSEERS: _(Dying.) Morituri te salutant. (They die.)_ + +_(A man in a brown macintosh springs up through a trapdoor. He points +an elongated finger at Bloom.)_ + +THE MAN IN THE MACINTOSH: Don’t you believe a word he says. That man is +Leopold M’Intosh, the notorious fireraiser. His real name is Higgins. + +BLOOM: Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M’Intosh! + +_(A cannonshot. The man in the macintosh disappears. Bloom with his +sceptre strikes down poppies. The instantaneous deaths of many powerful +enemies, graziers, members of parliament, members of standing +committees, are reported. Bloom’s bodyguard distribute Maundy money, +commemoration medals, loaves and fishes, temperance badges, expensive +Henry Clay cigars, free cowbones for soup, rubber preservatives in +sealed envelopes tied with gold thread, butter scotch, pineapple rock,_ +billets doux _in the form of cocked hats, readymade suits, porringers +of toad in the hole, bottles of Jeyes’ Fluid, purchase stamps, 40 days’ +indulgences, spurious coins, dairyfed pork sausages, theatre passes, +season tickets available for all tramlines, coupons of the royal and +privileged Hungarian lottery, penny dinner counters, cheap reprints of +the World’s Twelve Worst Books: Froggy And Fritz (politic), Care of the +Baby (infantilic), 50 Meals for 7/6 (culinic), Was Jesus a Sun Myth? +(historic), Expel that Pain (medic), Infant’s Compendium of the +Universe (cosmic), Let’s All Chortle (hilaric), Canvasser’s Vade Mecum +(journalic), Loveletters of Mother Assistant (erotic), Who’s Who in +Space (astric), Songs that Reached Our Heart (melodic), Pennywise’s Way +to Wealth (parsimonic). A general rush and scramble. Women press +forward to touch the hem of Bloom’s robe. The lady Gwendolen Dubedat +bursts through the throng, leaps on his horse and kisses him on both +cheeks amid great acclamation. A magnesium flashlight photograph is +taken. Babes and sucklings are held up.)_ + +THE WOMEN: Little father! Little father! + +THE BABES AND SUCKLINGS: + + Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home, + Cakes in his pocket for Leo alone. + +_(Bloom, bending down, pokes Baby Boardman gently in the stomach.)_ + +BABY BOARDMAN: _(Hiccups, curdled milk flowing from his mouth.)_ +Hajajaja. + +BLOOM: _(Shaking hands with a blind stripling.)_ My more than Brother! +_(Placing his arms round the shoulders of an old couple.)_ Dear old +friends! _(He plays pussy fourcorners with ragged boys and girls.)_ +Peep! Bopeep! _(He wheels twins in a perambulator.)_ Ticktacktwo +wouldyousetashoe? _(He performs juggler’s tricks, draws red, orange, +yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet silk handkerchiefs from his +mouth.)_ Roygbiv. 32 feet per second. _(He consoles a widow.)_ Absence +makes the heart grow younger. _(He dances the Highland fling with +grotesque antics.)_ Leg it, ye devils! _(He kisses the bedsores of a +palsied veteran.)_ Honourable wounds! _(He trips up a fat policeman.)_ +U. p: up. U. p: up. _(He whispers in the ear of a blushing waitress and +laughs kindly.)_ Ah, naughty, naughty! _(He eats a raw turnip offered +him by Maurice Butterly, farmer.)_ Fine! Splendid! _(He refuses to +accept three shillings offered him by Joseph Hynes, journalist.)_ My +dear fellow, not at all! _(He gives his coat to a beggar.)_ Please +accept. _(He takes part in a stomach race with elderly male and female +cripples.)_ Come on, boys! Wriggle it, girls! + +THE CITIZEN: _(Choked with emotion, brushes aside a tear in his emerald +muffler.)_ May the good God bless him! + +_(The rams’ horns sound for silence. The standard of Zion is hoisted.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Uncloaks impressively, revealing obesity, unrolls a paper and +reads solemnly.)_ Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth Hagadah Tephilim Kosher Yom +Kippur Hanukah Roschaschana Beni Brith Bar Mitzvah Mazzoth Askenazim +Meshuggah Talith. + +_(An official translation is read by Jimmy Henry, assistant town +clerk.)_ + +JIMMY HENRY: The Court of Conscience is now open. His Most Catholic +Majesty will now administer open air justice. Free medical and legal +advice, solution of doubles and other problems. All cordially invited. +Given at this our loyal city of Dublin in the year 1 of the +Paradisiacal Era. + +PADDY LEONARD: What am I to do about my rates and taxes? + +BLOOM: Pay them, my friend. + +PADDY LEONARD: Thank you. + +NOSEY FLYNN: Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance? + +BLOOM: _(Obdurately.)_ Sirs, take notice that by the law of torts you +are bound over in your own recognisances for six months in the sum of +five pounds. + +J. J. O’MOLLOY: A Daniel did I say? Nay! A Peter O’Brien! + +NOSEY FLYNN: Where do I draw the five pounds? + +PISSER BURKE: For bladder trouble? + +BLOOM: + +_Acid. nit. hydrochlor. dil.,_ 20 minims +_Tinct. nux vom.,_ 5 minims +_Extr. taraxel. lig.,_ 30 minims. +_Aq. dis. ter in die._ + +CHRIS CALLINAN: What is the parallax of the subsolar ecliptic of +Aldebaran? + +BLOOM: Pleased to hear from you, Chris. K. 11. + +JOE HYNES: Why aren’t you in uniform? + +BLOOM: When my progenitor of sainted memory wore the uniform of the +Austrian despot in a dank prison where was yours? + +BEN DOLLARD: Pansies? + +BLOOM: Embellish (beautify) suburban gardens. + +BEN DOLLARD: When twins arrive? + +BLOOM: Father (pater, dad) starts thinking. + +LARRY O’ROURKE: An eightday licence for my new premises. You remember +me, sir Leo, when you were in number seven. I’m sending around a dozen +of stout for the missus. + +BLOOM: _(Coldly.)_ You have the advantage of me. Lady Bloom accepts no +presents. + +CROFTON: This is indeed a festivity. + +BLOOM: _(Solemnly.)_ You call it a festivity. I call it a sacrament. + +ALEXANDER KEYES: When will we have our own house of keys? + +BLOOM: I stand for the reform of municipal morals and the plain ten +commandments. New worlds for old. Union of all, jew, moslem and +gentile. Three acres and a cow for all children of nature. Saloon motor +hearses. Compulsory manual labour for all. All parks open to the public +day and night. Electric dishscrubbers. Tuberculosis, lunacy, war and +mendicancy must now cease. General amnesty, weekly carnival with masked +licence, bonuses for all, esperanto the universal language with +universal brotherhood. No more patriotism of barspongers and dropsical +impostors. Free money, free rent, free love and a free lay church in a +free lay state. + +O’MADDEN BURKE: Free fox in a free henroost. + +DAVY BYRNE: _(Yawning.)_ Iiiiiiiiiaaaaaaach! + +BLOOM: Mixed races and mixed marriage. + +LENEHAN: What about mixed bathing? + +_(Bloom explains to those near him his schemes for social regeneration. +All agree with him. The keeper of the Kildare street museum appears, +dragging a lorry on which are the shaking statues of several naked +goddesses, Venus Callipyge, Venus Pandemos, Venus Metempsychosis, and +plaster figures, also naked, representing the new nine muses, Commerce, +Operatic Music, Amor, Publicity, Manufacture, Liberty of Speech, Plural +Voting, Gastronomy, Private Hygiene, Seaside Concert Entertainments, +Painless Obstetrics and Astronomy for the People.)_ + +FATHER FARLEY: He is an episcopalian, an agnostic, an anythingarian +seeking to overthrow our holy faith. + +MRS RIORDAN: _(Tears up her will.)_ I’m disappointed in you! You bad +man! + +MOTHER GROGAN: _(Removes her boot to throw it at Bloom.)_ You beast! +You abominable person! + +NOSEY FLYNN: Give us a tune, Bloom. One of the old sweet songs. + +BLOOM: _(With rollicking humour.)_ + + I vowed that I never would leave her, + She turned out a cruel deceiver. + With my tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. + +HOPPY HOLOHAN: Good old Bloom! There’s nobody like him after all. + +PADDY LEONARD: Stage Irishman! + +BLOOM: What railway opera is like a tramline in Gibraltar? The Rows of +Casteele. + +_(Laughter.)_ + +LENEHAN: Plagiarist! Down with Bloom! + +THE VEILED SIBYL: _(Enthusiastically.)_ I’m a Bloomite and I glory in +it. I believe in him in spite of all. I’d give my life for him, the +funniest man on earth. + +BLOOM: _(Winks at the bystanders.)_ I bet she’s a bonny lassie. + +THEODORE PUREFOY: _(In fishingcap and oilskin jacket.)_ He employs a +mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature. + +THE VEILED SIBYL: _(Stabs herself.)_ My hero god! _(She dies.)_ + +_(Many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide by +stabbing, drowning, drinking prussic acid, aconite, arsenic, opening +their veins, refusing food, casting themselves under steamrollers, from +the top of Nelson’s Pillar, into the great vat of Guinness’s brewery, +asphyxiating themselves by placing their heads in gasovens, hanging +themselves in stylish garters, leaping from windows of different +storeys.)_ + +ALEXANDER J DOWIE: _(Violently.)_ Fellowchristians and antiBloomites, +the man called Bloom is from the roots of hell, a disgrace to christian +men. A fiendish libertine from his earliest years this stinking goat of +Mendes gave precocious signs of infantile debauchery, recalling the +cities of the plain, with a dissolute granddam. This vile hypocrite, +bronzed with infamy, is the white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse. A +worshipper of the Scarlet Woman, intrigue is the very breath of his +nostrils. The stake faggots and the caldron of boiling oil are for him. +Caliban! + +THE MOB: Lynch him! Roast him! He’s as bad as Parnell was. Mr Fox! + +_(Mother Grogan throws her boot at Bloom. Several shopkeepers from +upper and lower Dorset street throw objects of little or no commercial +value, hambones, condensed milk tins, unsaleable cabbage, stale bread, +sheep’s tails, odd pieces of fat.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Excitedly.)_ This is midsummer madness, some ghastly joke +again. By heaven, I am guiltless as the unsunned snow! It was my +brother Henry. He is my double. He lives in number 2 Dolphin’s Barn. +Slander, the viper, has wrongfully accused me. Fellowcountrymen, _sgenl +inn ban bata coisde gan capall._ I call on my old friend, Dr Malachi +Mulligan, sex specialist, to give medical testimony on my behalf. + +DR MULLIGAN: _(In motor jerkin, green motorgoggles on his brow.)_ Dr +Bloom is bisexually abnormal. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace’s +private asylum for demented gentlemen. Born out of bedlock hereditary +epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. Traces of +elephantiasis have been discovered among his ascendants. There are +marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. +He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in +consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. In consequence of a +family complex he has temporarily lost his memory and I believe him to +be more sinned against than sinning. I have made a pervaginal +examination and, after application of the acid test to 5427 anal, +axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I declare him to be _virgo +intacta._ + +_(Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs.)_ + +DR MADDEN: Hypsospadia is also marked. In the interest of coming +generations I suggest that the parts affected should be preserved in +spirits of wine in the national teratological museum. + +DR CROTTHERS: I have examined the patient’s urine. It is albuminoid. +Salivation is insufficient, the patellar reflex intermittent. + +DR PUNCH COSTELLO: The _fetor judaicus_ is most perceptible. + +DR DIXON: _(Reads a bill of health.)_ Professor Bloom is a finished +example of the new womanly man. His moral nature is simple and lovable. +Many have found him a dear man, a dear person. He is a rather quaint +fellow on the whole, coy though not feebleminded in the medical sense. +He has written a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, to the +court missionary of the Reformed Priests’ Protection Society which +clears up everything. He is practically a total abstainer and I can +affirm that he sleeps on a straw litter and eats the most Spartan food, +cold dried grocer’s peas. He wears a hairshirt of pure Irish +manufacture winter and summer and scourges himself every Saturday. He +was, I understand, at one time a firstclass misdemeanant in Glencree +reformatory. Another report states that he was a very posthumous child. +I appeal for clemency in the name of the most sacred word our vocal +organs have ever been called upon to speak. He is about to have a baby. + +_(General commotion and compassion. Women faint. A wealthy American +makes a street collection for Bloom. Gold and silver coins, blank +cheques, banknotes, jewels, treasury bonds, maturing bills of exchange, +I. O. U’s, wedding rings, watchchains, lockets, necklaces and bracelets +are rapidly collected.)_ + +BLOOM: O, I so want to be a mother. + +MRS THORNTON: _(In nursetender’s gown.)_ Embrace me tight, dear. You’ll +be soon over it. Tight, dear. + +_(Bloom embraces her tightly and bears eight male yellow and white +children. They appear on a redcarpeted staircase adorned with expensive +plants. All the octuplets are handsome, with valuable metallic faces, +wellmade, respectably dressed and wellconducted, speaking five modern +languages fluently and interested in various arts and sciences. Each +has his name printed in legible letters on his shirtfront: Nasodoro, +Goldfinger, Chrysostomos, Maindorée, Silversmile, Silberselber, +Vifargent, Panargyros. They are immediately appointed to positions of +high public trust in several different countries as managing directors +of banks, traffic managers of railways, chairmen of limited liability +companies, vicechairmen of hotel syndicates.)_ + +A VOICE: Bloom, are you the Messiah ben Joseph or ben David? + +BLOOM: _(Darkly.)_ You have said it. + +BROTHER BUZZ: Then perform a miracle like Father Charles. + +BANTAM LYONS: Prophesy who will win the Saint Leger. + +_(Bloom walks on a net, covers his left eye with his left ear, passes +through several walls, climbs Nelson’s Pillar, hangs from the top ledge +by his eyelids, eats twelve dozen oysters (shells included), heals +several sufferers from king’s evil, contracts his face so as to +resemble many historical personages, Lord Beaconsfield, Lord Byron, Wat +Tyler, Moses of Egypt, Moses Maimonides, Moses Mendelssohn, Henry +Irving, Rip van Winkle, Kossuth, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Baron Leopold +Rothschild, Robinson Crusoe, Sherlock Holmes, Pasteur, turns each foot +simultaneously in different directions, bids the tide turn back, +eclipses the sun by extending his little finger.)_ + +BRINI, PAPAL NUNCIO: _(In papal zouave’s uniform, steel cuirasses as +breastplate, armplates, thighplates, legplates, large profane +moustaches and brown paper mitre.) Leopoldi autem generatio._ Moses +begat Noah and Noah begat Eunuch and Eunuch begat O’Halloran and +O’Halloran begat Guggenheim and Guggenheim begat Agendath and Agendath +begat Netaim and Netaim begat Le Hirsch and Le Hirsch begat Jesurum and +Jesurum begat MacKay and MacKay begat Ostrolopsky and Ostrolopsky begat +Smerdoz and Smerdoz begat Weiss and Weiss begat Schwarz and Schwarz +begat Adrianopoli and Adrianopoli begat Aranjuez and Aranjuez begat +Lewy Lawson and Lewy Lawson begat Ichabudonosor and Ichabudonosor begat +O’Donnell Magnus and O’Donnell Magnus begat Christbaum and Christbaum +begat ben Maimun and ben Maimun begat Dusty Rhodes and Dusty Rhodes +begat Benamor and Benamor begat Jones-Smith and Jones-Smith begat +Savorgnanovich and Savorgnanovich begat Jasperstone and Jasperstone +begat Vingtetunieme and Vingtetunieme begat Szombathely and Szombathely +begat Virag and Virag begat Bloom _et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel._ + +A DEADHAND: _(Writes on the wall.)_ Bloom is a cod. + +CRAB: _(In bushranger’s kit.)_ What did you do in the cattlecreep +behind Kilbarrack? + +A FEMALE INFANT: _(Shakes a rattle.)_ And under Ballybough bridge? + +A HOLLYBUSH: And in the devil’s glen? + +BLOOM: _(Blushes furiously all over from frons to nates, three tears +falling from his left eye.)_ Spare my past. + +THE IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: _(In bodycoats, kneebreeches, with +Donnybrook fair shillelaghs.)_ Sjambok him! + +_(Bloom with asses’ ears seats himself in the pillory with crossed +arms, his feet protruding. He whistles_ Don Giovanni, a cenar teco. +_Artane orphans, joining hands, caper round him. Girls of the Prison +Gate Mission, joining hands, caper round in the opposite direction.)_ + +THE ARTANE ORPHANS: + + You hig, you hog, you dirty dog! + You think the ladies love you! + + THE PRISON GATE GIRLS: + + If you see Kay + Tell him he may + See you in tea + Tell him from me. + +HORNBLOWER: _(In ephod and huntingcap, announces.)_ And he shall carry +the sins of the people to Azazel, the spirit which is in the +wilderness, and to Lilith, the nighthag. And they shall stone him and +defile him, yea, all from Agendath Netaim and from Mizraim, the land of +Ham. + +_(All the people cast soft pantomime stones at Bloom. Many bonafide +travellers and ownerless dogs come near him and defile him. Mastiansky +and Citron approach in gaberdines, wearing long earlocks. They wag +their beards at Bloom.)_ + +MASTIANSKY AND CITRON: Belial! Laemlein of Istria, the false Messiah! +Abulafia! Recant! + +_(George R Mesias, Bloom’s tailor, appears, a tailor’s goose under his +arm, presenting a bill.)_ + +MESIAS: To alteration one pair trousers eleven shillings. + +BLOOM: _(Rubs his hands cheerfully.)_ Just like old times. Poor Bloom! + +_(Reuben J Dodd, blackbearded Iscariot, bad shepherd, bearing on his +shoulders the drowned corpse of his son, approaches the pillory.)_ + +REUBEN J: _(Whispers hoarsely.)_ The squeak is out. A split is gone for +the flatties. Nip the first rattler. + +THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap! + +BROTHER BUZZ: _(Invests Bloom in a yellow habit with embroidery of +painted flames and high pointed hat. He places a bag of gunpowder round +his neck and hands him over to the civil power, saying.)_ Forgive him +his trespasses. + +_(Lieutenant Myers of the Dublin Fire Brigade by general request sets +fire to Bloom. Lamentations.)_ + +THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven! + +BLOOM: _(In a seamless garment marked I. H. S. stands upright amid +phoenix flames.)_ Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin. + +_(He exhibits to Dublin reporters traces of burning. The daughters of +Erin, in black garments, with large prayerbooks and long lighted +candles in their hands, kneel down and pray.)_ + +THE DAUGHTERS OF ERIN: + + Kidney of Bloom, pray for us + Flower of the Bath, pray for us + Mentor of Menton, pray for us + Canvasser for the Freeman, pray for us + Charitable Mason, pray for us + Wandering Soap, pray for us + Sweets of Sin, pray for us + Music without Words, pray for us + Reprover of the Citizen, pray for us + Friend of all Frillies, pray for us + Midwife Most Merciful, pray for us + Potato Preservative against Plague and Pestilence, pray for us. + +_(A choir of six hundred voices, conducted by Vincent O’Brien, sings +the chorus from Handel’s Messiah_ Alleluia for the Lord God Omnipotent +reigneth, _accompanied on the organ by Joseph Glynn. Bloom becomes +mute, shrunken, carbonised.)_ + +ZOE: Talk away till you’re black in the face. + +BLOOM: _(In caubeen with clay pipe stuck in the band, dusty brogues, an +emigrant’s red handkerchief bundle in his hand, leading a black bogoak +pig by a sugaun, with a smile in his eye.)_ Let me be going now, woman +of the house, for by all the goats in Connemara I’m after having the +father and mother of a bating. _(With a tear in his eye.)_ All +insanity. Patriotism, sorrow for the dead, music, future of the race. +To be or not to be. Life’s dream is o’er. End it peacefully. They can +live on. _(He gazes far away mournfully.)_ I am ruined. A few pastilles +of aconite. The blinds drawn. A letter. Then lie back to rest. _(He +breathes softly.)_ No more. I have lived. Fare. Farewell. + +ZOE: _(Stiffly, her finger in her neckfillet.)_ Honest? Till the next +time. _(She sneers.)_ Suppose you got up the wrong side of the bed or +came too quick with your best girl. O, I can read your thoughts! + +BLOOM: _(Bitterly.)_ Man and woman, love, what is it? A cork and +bottle. I’m sick of it. Let everything rip. + +ZOE: _(In sudden sulks.)_ I hate a rotter that’s insincere. Give a +bleeding whore a chance. + +BLOOM: _(Repentantly.)_ I am very disagreeable. You are a necessary +evil. Where are you from? London? + +ZOE: _(Glibly.)_ Hog’s Norton where the pigs plays the organs. I’m +Yorkshire born. _(She holds his hand which is feeling for her nipple.)_ +I say, Tommy Tittlemouse. Stop that and begin worse. Have you cash for +a short time? Ten shillings? + +BLOOM: _(Smiles, nods slowly.)_ More, houri, more. + +ZOE: And more’s mother? _(She pats him offhandedly with velvet paws.)_ +Are you coming into the musicroom to see our new pianola? Come and I’ll +peel off. + +BLOOM: _(Feeling his occiput dubiously with the unparalleled +embarrassment of a harassed pedlar gauging the symmetry of her peeled +pears.)_ Somebody would be dreadfully jealous if she knew. The +greeneyed monster. _(Earnestly.)_ You know how difficult it is. I +needn’t tell you. + +ZOE: _(Flattered.)_ What the eye can’t see the heart can’t grieve for. +_(She pats him.)_ Come. + +BLOOM: Laughing witch! The hand that rocks the cradle. + +ZOE: Babby! + +BLOOM: _(In babylinen and pelisse, bigheaded, with a caul of dark hair, +fixes big eyes on her fluid slip and counts its bronze buckles with a +chubby finger, his moist tongue lolling and lisping.)_ One two tlee: +tlee tlwo tlone. + +THE BUCKLES: Love me. Love me not. Love me. + +ZOE: Silent means consent. _(With little parted talons she captures his +hand, her forefinger giving to his palm the passtouch of secret +monitor, luring him to doom.)_ Hot hands cold gizzard. + +_(He hesitates amid scents, music, temptations. She leads him towards +the steps, drawing him by the odour of her armpits, the vice of her +painted eyes, the rustle of her slip in whose sinuous folds lurks the +lion reek of all the male brutes that have possessed her.)_ + +THE MALE BRUTES: _(Exhaling sulphur of rut and dung and ramping in +their loosebox, faintly roaring, their drugged heads swaying to and +fro.)_ Good! + +_(Zoe and Bloom reach the doorway where two sister whores are seated. +They examine him curiously from under their pencilled brows and smile +to his hasty bow. He trips awkwardly.)_ + +ZOE: _(Her lucky hand instantly saving him.)_ Hoopsa! Don’t fall +upstairs. + +BLOOM: The just man falls seven times. _(He stands aside at the +threshold.)_ After you is good manners. + +ZOE: Ladies first, gentlemen after. + +_(She crosses the threshold. He hesitates. She turns and, holding out +her hands, draws him over. He hops. On the antlered rack of the hall +hang a man’s hat and waterproof. Bloom uncovers himself but, seeing +them, frowns, then smiles, preoccupied. A door on the return landing is +flung open. A man in purple shirt and grey trousers, brownsocked, +passes with an ape’s gait, his bald head and goatee beard upheld, +hugging a full waterjugjar, his twotailed black braces dangling at +heels. Averting his face quickly Bloom bends to examine on the +halltable the spaniel eyes of a running fox: then, his lifted head +sniffing, follows Zoe into the musicroom. A shade of mauve tissuepaper +dims the light of the chandelier. Round and round a moth flies, +colliding, escaping. The floor is covered with an oilcloth mosaic of +jade and azure and cinnabar rhomboids. Footmarks are stamped over it in +all senses, heel to heel, heel to hollow, toe to toe, feet locked, a +morris of shuffling feet without body phantoms, all in a scrimmage +higgledypiggledy. The walls are tapestried with a paper of yewfronds +and clear glades. In the grate is spread a screen of peacock feathers. +Lynch squats crosslegged on the hearthrug of matted hair, his cap back +to the front. With a wand he beats time slowly. Kitty Ricketts, a bony +pallid whore in navy costume, doeskin gloves rolled back from a coral +wristlet, a chain purse in her hand, sits perched on the edge of the +table swinging her leg and glancing at herself in the gilt mirror over +the mantelpiece. A tag of her corsetlace hangs slightly below her +jacket. Lynch indicates mockingly the couple at the piano.)_ + +KITTY: _(Coughs behind her hand.)_ She’s a bit imbecillic. _(She signs +with a waggling forefinger.)_ Blemblem. _(Lynch lifts up her skirt and +white petticoat with the wand. She settles them down quickly.)_ Respect +yourself. _(She hiccups, then bends quickly her sailor hat under which +her hair glows, red with henna.)_ O, excuse! + +ZOE: More limelight, Charley. _(She goes to the chandelier and turns +the gas full cock.)_ + +KITTY: _(Peers at the gasjet.)_ What ails it tonight? + +LYNCH: _(Deeply.)_ Enter a ghost and hobgoblins. + +ZOE: Clap on the back for Zoe. + +_(The wand in Lynch’s hand flashes: a brass poker. Stephen stands at +the pianola on which sprawl his hat and ashplant. With two fingers he +repeats once more the series of empty fifths. Florry Talbot, a blond +feeble goosefat whore in a tatterdemalion gown of mildewed strawberry, +lolls spreadeagle in the sofacorner, her limp forearm pendent over the +bolster, listening. A heavy stye droops over her sleepy eyelid.)_ + +KITTY: _(Hiccups again with a kick of her horsed foot.)_ O, excuse! + +ZOE: _(Promptly.)_ Your boy’s thinking of you. Tie a knot on your +shift. + +_(Kitty Ricketts bends her head. Her boa uncoils, slides, glides over +her shoulder, back, arm, chair to the ground. Lynch lifts the curled +catterpillar on his wand. She snakes her neck, nestling. Stephen +glances behind at the squatted figure with its cap back to the front.)_ + +STEPHEN: As a matter of fact it is of no importance whether Benedetto +Marcello found it or made it. The rite is the poet’s rest. It may be an +old hymn to Demeter or also illustrate _Cœla enarrant gloriam Domini._ +It is susceptible of nodes or modes as far apart as hyperphrygian and +mixolydian and of texts so divergent as priests haihooping round +David’s that is Circe’s or what am I saying Ceres’ altar and David’s +tip from the stable to his chief bassoonist about the alrightness of +his almightiness. _Mais nom de nom,_ that is another pair of trousers. +_Jetez la gourme. Faut que jeunesse se passe. (He stops, points at +Lynch’s cap, smiles, laughs.)_ Which side is your knowledge bump? + +THE CAP: _(With saturnine spleen.)_ Bah! It is because it is. Woman’s +reason. Jewgreek is greekjew. Extremes meet. Death is the highest form +of life. Bah! + +STEPHEN: You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, +mistakes. How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty? +Whetstone! + +THE CAP: Bah! + +STEPHEN: Here’s another for you. _(He frowns.)_ The reason is because +the fundamental and the dominant are separated by the greatest possible +interval which... + +THE CAP: Which? Finish. You can’t. + +STEPHEN: _(With an effort.)_ Interval which. Is the greatest possible +ellipse. Consistent with. The ultimate return. The octave. Which. + +THE CAP: Which? + +_(Outside the gramophone begins to blare_ The Holy City.) + +STEPHEN: _(Abruptly.)_ What went forth to the ends of the world to +traverse not itself, God, the sun, Shakespeare, a commercial traveller, +having itself traversed in reality itself becomes that self. Wait a +moment. Wait a second. Damn that fellow’s noise in the street. Self +which it itself was ineluctably preconditioned to become. _Ecco!_ + +LYNCH: _(With a mocking whinny of laughter grins at Bloom and Zoe +Higgins.)_ What a learned speech, eh? + +ZOE: _(Briskly.)_ God help your head, he knows more than you have +forgotten. + +_(With obese stupidity Florry Talbot regards Stephen.)_ + +FLORRY: They say the last day is coming this summer. + +KITTY: No! + +ZOE: _(Explodes in laughter.)_ Great unjust God! + +FLORRY: _(Offended.)_ Well, it was in the papers about Antichrist. O, +my foot’s tickling. + +_(Ragged barefoot newsboys, jogging a wagtail kite, patter past, +yelling.)_ + +THE NEWSBOYS: Stop press edition. Result of the rockinghorse races. Sea +serpent in the royal canal. Safe arrival of Antichrist. + +_(Stephen turns and sees Bloom.)_ + +STEPHEN: A time, times and half a time. + +_(Reuben J Antichrist, wandering jew, a clutching hand open on his +spine, stumps forward. Across his loins is slung a pilgrim’s wallet +from which protrude promissory notes and dishonoured bills. Aloft over +his shoulder he bears a long boatpole from the hook of which the sodden +huddled mass of his only son, saved from Liffey waters, hangs from the +slack of its breeches. A hobgoblin in the image of Punch Costello, +hipshot, crookbacked, hydrocephalic, prognathic with receding forehead +and Ally Sloper nose, tumbles in somersaults through the gathering +darkness.)_ + +ALL: What? + +THE HOBGOBLIN: _(His jaws chattering, capers to and fro, goggling his +eyes, squeaking, kangaroohopping with outstretched clutching arms, then +all at once thrusts his lipless face through the fork of his thighs.) +Il vient! C’est moi! L’homme qui rit! L’homme primigène! (He whirls +round and round with dervish howls.) Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux! +(He crouches juggling. Tiny roulette planets fly from his hands.) Les +jeux sont faits! (The planets rush together, uttering crepitant +cracks.) Rien va plus! (The planets, buoyant balloons, sail swollen up +and away. He springs off into vacuum.)_ + +FLORRY: _(Sinking into torpor, crossing herself secretly.)_ The end of +the world! + +_(A female tepid effluvium leaks out from her. Nebulous obscurity +occupies space. Through the drifting fog without the gramophone blares +over coughs and feetshuffling.)_ + +THE GRAMOPHONE: + + Jerusalem! + Open your gates and sing + Hosanna... + +_(A rocket rushes up the sky and bursts. A white star falls from it, +proclaiming the consummation of all things and second coming of Elijah. +Along an infinite invisible tightrope taut from zenith to nadir the End +of the World, a twoheaded octopus in gillie’s kilts, busby and tartan +filibegs, whirls through the murk, head over heels, in the form of the +Three Legs of Man.)_ + +THE END OF THE WORLD: _(With a Scotch accent.)_ Wha’ll dance the keel +row, the keel row, the keel row? + +_(Over the possing drift and choking breathcoughs, Elijah’s voice, +harsh as a corncrake’s, jars on high. Perspiring in a loose lawn +surplice with funnel sleeves he is seen, vergerfaced, above a rostrum +about which the banner of old glory is draped. He thumps the parapet.)_ + +ELIJAH: No yapping, if you please, in this booth. Jake Crane, Creole +Sue, Dove Campbell, Abe Kirschner, do your coughing with your mouths +shut. Say, I am operating all this trunk line. Boys, do it now. God’s +time is 12.25. Tell mother you’ll be there. Rush your order and you +play a slick ace. Join on right here. Book through to eternity +junction, the nonstop run. Just one word more. Are you a god or a +doggone clod? If the second advent came to Coney Island are we ready? +Florry Christ, Stephen Christ, Zoe Christ, Bloom Christ, Kitty Christ, +Lynch Christ, it’s up to you to sense that cosmic force. Have we cold +feet about the cosmos? No. Be on the side of the angels. Be a prism. +You have that something within, the higher self. You can rub shoulders +with a Jesus, a Gautama, an Ingersoll. Are you all in this vibration? I +say you are. You once nobble that, congregation, and a buck joyride to +heaven becomes a back number. You got me? It’s a lifebrightener, sure. +The hottest stuff ever was. It’s the whole pie with jam in. It’s just +the cutest snappiest line out. It is immense, supersumptuous. It +restores. It vibrates. I know and I am some vibrator. Joking apart and, +getting down to bedrock, A. J. Christ Dowie and the harmonial +philosophy, have you got that? O. K. Seventyseven west sixtyninth +street. Got me? That’s it. You call me up by sunphone any old time. +Bumboosers, save your stamps. _(He shouts.)_ Now then our glory song. +All join heartily in the singing. Encore! _(He sings.)_ Jeru... + +THE GRAMOPHONE: _(Drowning his voice.)_ Whorusalaminyourhighhohhhh... +_(The disc rasps gratingly against the needle.)_ + +THE THREE WHORES: _(Covering their ears, squawk.)_ Ahhkkk! + +ELIJAH: _(In rolledup shirtsleeves, black in the face, shouts at the +top of his voice, his arms uplifted.)_ Big Brother up there, Mr +President, you hear what I done just been saying to you. Certainly, I +sort of believe strong in you, Mr President. I certainly am thinking +now Miss Higgins and Miss Ricketts got religion way inside them. +Certainly seems to me I don’t never see no wusser scared female than +the way you been, Miss Florry, just now as I done seed you. Mr +President, you come long and help me save our sisters dear. _(He winks +at his audience.)_ Our Mr President, he twig the whole lot and he aint +saying nothing. + +KITTY-KATE: I forgot myself. In a weak moment I erred and did what I +did on Constitution hill. I was confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in +the brown scapular. My mother’s sister married a Montmorency. It was a +working plumber was my ruination when I was pure. + +ZOE-FANNY: I let him larrup it into me for the fun of it. + +FLORRY-TERESA: It was in consequence of a portwine beverage on top of +Hennessy’s three star. I was guilty with Whelan when he slipped into +the bed. + +STEPHEN: In the beginning was the word, in the end the world without +end. Blessed be the eight beatitudes. + +_(The beatitudes, Dixon, Madden, Crotthers, Costello, Lenehan, Bannon, +Mulligan and Lynch in white surgical students’ gowns, four abreast, +goosestepping, tramp fast past in noisy marching.)_ + +THE BEATITUDES: _(Incoherently.)_ Beer beef battledog buybull businum +barnum buggerum bishop. + +LYSTER: _(In quakergrey kneebreeches and broadbrimmed hat, says +discreetly.)_ He is our friend. I need not mention names. Seek thou the +light. + +_(He corantos by. Best enters in hairdresser’s attire, shinily +laundered, his locks in curlpapers. He leads John Eglinton who wears a +mandarin’s kimono of Nankeen yellow, lizardlettered, and a high pagoda +hat.)_ + +BEST: _(Smiling, lifts the hat and displays a shaven poll from the +crown of which bristles a pigtail toupee tied with an orange topknot.)_ +I was just beautifying him, don’t you know. A thing of beauty, don’t +you know, Yeats says, or I mean, Keats says. + +JOHN EGLINTON: _(Produces a greencapped dark lantern and flashes it +towards a corner: with carping accent.)_ Esthetics and cosmetics are +for the boudoir. I am out for truth. Plain truth for a plain man. +Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them. + +_(In the cone of the searchlight behind the coalscuttle, ollave, +holyeyed, the bearded figure of Mananaun MacLir broods, chin on knees. +He rises slowly. A cold seawind blows from his druid mouth. About his +head writhe eels and elvers. He is encrusted with weeds and shells. His +right hand holds a bicycle pump. His left hand grasps a huge crayfish +by its two talons.)_ + +MANANAUN MACLIR: _(With a voice of waves.)_ Aum! Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub! +Mor! Ma! White yoghin of the gods. Occult pimander of Hermes +Trismegistos. _(With a voice of whistling seawind.)_ Punarjanam +patsypunjaub! I won’t have my leg pulled. It has been said by one: +beware the left, the cult of Shakti. _(With a cry of stormbirds.)_ +Shakti Shiva, darkhidden Father! _(He smites with his bicycle pump the +crayfish in his left hand. On its cooperative dial glow the twelve +signs of the zodiac. He wails with the vehemence of the ocean.)_ Aum! +Baum! Pyjaum! I am the light of the homestead! I am the dreamery +creamery butter. + +_(A skeleton judashand strangles the light. The green light wanes to +mauve. The gasjet wails whistling.)_ + +THE GASJET: Pooah! Pfuiiiiiii! + +_(Zoe runs to the chandelier and, crooking her leg, adjusts the +mantle.)_ + +ZOE: Who has a fag as I’m here? + +LYNCH: _(Tossing a cigarette on to the table.)_ Here. + +ZOE: _(Her head perched aside in mock pride.)_ Is that the way to hand +the _pot_ to a lady? _(She stretches up to light the cigarette over the +flame, twirling it slowly, showing the brown tufts of her armpits. +Lynch with his poker lifts boldly a side of her slip. Bare from her +garters up her flesh appears under the sapphire a nixie’s green. She +puffs calmly at her cigarette.)_ Can you see the beautyspot of my +behind? + +LYNCH: I’m not looking + +ZOE: _(Makes sheep’s eyes.)_ No? You wouldn’t do a less thing. Would +you suck a lemon? + +_(Squinting in mock shame she glances with sidelong meaning at Bloom, +then twists round towards him, pulling her slip free of the poker. Blue +fluid again flows over her flesh. Bloom stands, smiling desirously, +twirling his thumbs. Kitty Ricketts licks her middle finger with her +spittle and, gazing in the mirror, smooths both eyebrows. Lipoti Virag, +basilicogrammate, chutes rapidly down through the chimneyflue and +struts two steps to the left on gawky pink stilts. He is sausaged into +several overcoats and wears a brown macintosh under which he holds a +roll of parchment. In his left eye flashes the monocle of Cashel Boyle +O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell. On his head is perched an +Egyptian pshent. Two quills project over his ears.)_ + +VIRAG: _(Heels together, bows.)_ My name is Virag Lipoti, of +Szombathely. _(He coughs thoughtfully, drily.)_ Promiscuous nakedness +is much in evidence hereabouts, eh? Inadvertently her backview revealed +the fact that she is not wearing those rather intimate garments of +which you are a particular devotee. The injection mark on the thigh I +hope you perceived? Good. + +BLOOM: Granpapachi. But... + +VIRAG: Number two on the other hand, she of the cherry rouge and +coiffeuse white, whose hair owes not a little to our tribal elixir of +gopherwood, is in walking costume and tightly staysed by her sit, I +should opine. Backbone in front, so to say. Correct me but I always +understood that the act so performed by skittish humans with glimpses +of lingerie appealed to you in virtue of its exhibitionististicicity. +In a word. Hippogriff. Am I right? + +BLOOM: She is rather lean. + +VIRAG: _(Not unpleasantly.)_ Absolutely! Well observed and those +pannier pockets of the skirt and slightly pegtop effect are devised to +suggest bunchiness of hip. A new purchase at some monster sale for +which a gull has been mulcted. Meretricious finery to deceive the eye. +Observe the attention to details of dustspecks. Never put on you +tomorrow what you can wear today. Parallax! _(With a nervous twitch of +his head.)_ Did you hear my brain go snap? Pollysyllabax! + +BLOOM: _(An elbow resting in a hand, a forefinger against his cheek.)_ +She seems sad. + +VIRAG: _(Cynically, his weasel teeth bared yellow, draws down his left +eye with a finger and barks hoarsely.)_ Hoax! Beware of the flapper and +bogus mournful. Lily of the alley. All possess bachelor’s button +discovered by Rualdus Columbus. Tumble her. Columble her. Chameleon. +_(More genially.)_ Well then, permit me to draw your attention to item +number three. There is plenty of her visible to the naked eye. Observe +the mass of oxygenated vegetable matter on her skull. What ho, she +bumps! The ugly duckling of the party, longcasted and deep in keel. + +BLOOM: _(Regretfully.)_ When you come out without your gun. + +VIRAG: We can do you all brands, mild, medium and strong. Pay your +money, take your choice. How happy could you be with either... + +BLOOM: With...? + +VIRAG: _(His tongue upcurling.)_ Lyum! Look. Her beam is broad. She is +coated with quite a considerable layer of fat. Obviously mammal in +weight of bosom you remark that she has in front well to the fore two +protuberances of very respectable dimensions, inclined to fall in the +noonday soupplate, while on her rere lower down are two additional +protuberances, suggestive of potent rectum and tumescent for palpation, +which leave nothing to be desired save compactness. Such fleshy parts +are the product of careful nurture. When coopfattened their livers +reach an elephantine size. Pellets of new bread with fennygreek and +gumbenjamin swamped down by potions of green tea endow them during +their brief existence with natural pincushions of quite colossal +blubber. That suits your book, eh? Fleshhotpots of Egypt to hanker +after. Wallow in it. Lycopodium. _(His throat twitches.)_ Slapbang! +There he goes again. + +BLOOM: The stye I dislike. + +VIRAG: _(Arches his eyebrows.)_ Contact with a goldring, they say. +_Argumentum ad feminam_, as we said in old Rome and ancient Greece in +the consulship of Diplodocus and Ichthyosauros. For the rest Eve’s +sovereign remedy. Not for sale. Hire only. Huguenot. _(He twitches.)_ +It is a funny sound. _(He coughs encouragingly.)_ But possibly it is +only a wart. I presume you shall have remembered what I will have +taught you on that head? Wheatenmeal with honey and nutmeg. + +BLOOM: _(Reflecting.)_ Wheatenmeal with lycopodium and syllabax. This +searching ordeal. It has been an unusually fatiguing day, a chapter of +accidents. Wait. I mean, wartsblood spreads warts, you said... + +VIRAG: _(Severely, his nose hardhumped, his side eye winking.)_ Stop +twirling your thumbs and have a good old thunk. See, you have +forgotten. Exercise your mnemotechnic. _La causa è santa_. Tara. Tara. +_(Aside.)_ He will surely remember. + +BLOOM: Rosemary also did I understand you to say or willpower over +parasitic tissues. Then nay no I have an inkling. The touch of a +deadhand cures. Mnemo? + +VIRAG: _(Excitedly.)_ I say so. I say so. E’en so. Technic. _(He taps +his parchmentroll energetically.)_ This book tells you how to act with +all descriptive particulars. Consult index for agitated fear of +aconite, melancholy of muriatic, priapic pulsatilla. Virag is going to +talk about amputation. Our old friend caustic. They must be starved. +Snip off with horsehair under the denned neck. But, to change the venue +to the Bulgar and the Basque, have you made up your mind whether you +like or dislike women in male habiliments? _(With a dry snigger.)_ You +intended to devote an entire year to the study of the religious problem +and the summer months of 1886 to square the circle and win that +million. Pomegranate! From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. +Pyjamas, let us say? Or stockingette gussetted knickers, closed? Or, +put we the case, those complicated combinations, camiknickers? _(He +crows derisively.)_ Keekeereekee! + +_(Bloom surveys uncertainly the three whores then gazes at the veiled +mauve light, hearing the everflying moth.)_ + +BLOOM: I wanted then to have now concluded. Nightdress was never. Hence +this. But tomorrow is a new day will be. Past was is today. What now is +will then morrow as now was be past yester. + +VIRAG: _(Prompts in a pig’s whisper.)_ Insects of the day spend their +brief existence in reiterated coition, lured by the smell of the +inferiorly pulchritudinous female possessing extendified pudendal nerve +in dorsal region. Pretty Poll! _(His yellow parrotbeak gabbles +nasally.)_ They had a proverb in the Carpathians in or about the year +five thousand five hundred and fifty of our era. One tablespoonful of +honey will attract friend Bruin more than half a dozen barrels of first +choice malt vinegar. Bear’s buzz bothers bees. But of this apart. At +another time we may resume. We were very pleased, we others. _(He +coughs and, bending his brow, rubs his nose thoughtfully with a +scooping hand.)_ You shall find that these night insects follow the +light. An illusion for remember their complex unadjustable eye. For all +these knotty points see the seventeenth book of my Fundamentals of +Sexology or the Love Passion which Doctor L. B. says is the book +sensation of the year. Some, to example, there are again whose +movements are automatic. Perceive. That is his appropriate sun. +Nightbird nightsun nighttown. Chase me, Charley! _(He blows into +Bloom’s ear.)_ Buzz! + +BLOOM: Bee or bluebottle too other day butting shadow on wall dazed +self then me wandered dazed down shirt good job I... + +VIRAG: _(His face impassive, laughs in a rich feminine key.)_ Splendid! +Spanish fly in his fly or mustard plaster on his dibble. _(He gobbles +gluttonously with turkey wattles.)_ Bubbly jock! Bubbly jock! Where are +we? Open Sesame! Cometh forth! _(He unrolls his parchment rapidly and +reads, his glowworm’s nose running backwards over the letters which he +claws.)_ Stay, good friend. I bring thee thy answer. Redbank oysters +will shortly be upon us. I’m the best o’cook. Those succulent bivalves +may help us and the truffles of Perigord, tubers dislodged through +mister omnivorous porker, were unsurpassed in cases of nervous debility +or viragitis. Though they stink yet they sting. _(He wags his head with +cackling raillery.)_ Jocular. With my eyeglass in my ocular. _(He +sneezes.)_ Amen! + +BLOOM: _(Absently.)_ Ocularly woman’s bivalve case is worse. Always +open sesame. The cloven sex. Why they fear vermin, creeping things. Yet +Eve and the serpent contradicts. Not a historical fact. Obvious analogy +to my idea. Serpents too are gluttons for woman’s milk. Wind their way +through miles of omnivorous forest to sucksucculent her breast dry. +Like those bubblyjocular Roman matrons one reads of in Elephantuliasis. + +VIRAG: _(His mouth projected in hard wrinkles, eyes stonily forlornly +closed, psalms in outlandish monotone.)_ That the cows with their those +distended udders that they have been the the known... + +BLOOM: I am going to scream. I beg your pardon. Ah? So. _(He repeats.)_ +Spontaneously to seek out the saurian’s lair in order to entrust their +teats to his avid suction. Ant milks aphis. _(Profoundly.)_ Instinct +rules the world. In life. In death. + +VIRAG: _(Head askew, arches his back and hunched wingshoulders, peers +at the moth out of blear bulged eyes, points a horning claw and +cries.)_ Who’s moth moth? Who’s dear Gerald? Dear Ger, that you? O +dear, he is Gerald. O, I much fear he shall be most badly burned. Will +some pleashe pershon not now impediment so catastrophics mit agitation +of firstclass tablenumpkin? _(He mews.)_ Puss puss puss puss! _(He +sighs, draws back and stares sideways down with dropping underjaw.)_ +Well, well. He doth rest anon. (He snaps his jaws suddenly on the air.) + +THE MOTH: + + I’m a tiny tiny thing + Ever flying in the spring + Round and round a ringaring. + Long ago I was a king + Now I do this kind of thing + On the wing, on the wing! + Bing! + +_(He rushes against the mauve shade, flapping noisily.)_ Pretty pretty +pretty pretty pretty pretty petticoats. + +_(From left upper entrance with two gliding steps Henry Flower comes +forward to left front centre. He wears a dark mantle and drooping +plumed sombrero. He carries a silverstringed inlaid dulcimer and a +longstemmed bamboo Jacob’s pipe, its clay bowl fashioned as a female +head. He wears dark velvet hose and silverbuckled pumps. He has the +romantic Saviour’s face with flowing locks, thin beard and moustache. +His spindlelegs and sparrow feet are those of the tenor Mario, prince +of Candia. He settles down his goffered ruffs and moistens his lips +with a passage of his amorous tongue.)_ + +HENRY: _(In a low dulcet voice, touching the strings of his guitar.)_ +There is a flower that bloometh. + +_(Virag truculent, his jowl set, stares at the lamp. Grave Bloom +regards Zoe’s neck. Henry gallant turns with pendant dewlap to the +piano.)_ + +STEPHEN: _(To himself.)_ Play with your eyes shut. Imitate pa. Filling +my belly with husks of swine. Too much of this. I will arise and go to +my. Expect this is the. Steve, thou art in a parlous way. Must visit +old Deasy or telegraph. Our interview of this morning has left on me a +deep impression. Though our ages. Will write fully tomorrow. I’m +partially drunk, by the way. _(He touches the keys again.)_ Minor chord +comes now. Yes. Not much however. + +_(Almidano Artifoni holds out a batonroll of music with vigorous +moustachework.)_ + +ARTIFONI: _Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto._ + +FLORRY: Sing us something. Love’s old sweet song. + +STEPHEN: No voice. I am a most finished artist. Lynch, did I show you +the letter about the lute? + +FLORRY: _(Smirking.)_ The bird that can sing and won’t sing. + +_(The Siamese twins, Philip Drunk and Philip Sober, two Oxford dons +with lawnmowers, appear in the window embrasure. Both are masked with +Matthew Arnold’s face.)_ + +PHILIP SOBER: Take a fool’s advice. All is not well. Work it out with +the buttend of a pencil, like a good young idiot. Three pounds twelve +you got, two notes, one sovereign, two crowns, if youth but knew. +Mooney’s en ville, Mooney’s sur mer, the Moira, Larchet’s, Holles +street hospital, Burke’s. Eh? I am watching you. + +PHILIP DRUNK: _(Impatiently.)_ Ah, bosh, man. Go to hell! I paid my +way. If I could only find out about octaves. Reduplication of +personality. Who was it told me his name? _(His lawnmower begins to +purr.)_ Aha, yes. _Zoe mou sas agapo_. Have a notion I was here before. +When was it not Atkinson his card I have somewhere. Mac Somebody. +Unmack I have it. He told me about, hold on, Swinburne, was it, no? + +FLORRY: And the song? + +STEPHEN: Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. + +FLORRY: Are you out of Maynooth? You’re like someone I knew once. + +STEPHEN: Out of it now. _(To himself.)_ Clever. + +PHILIP DRUNK AND PHILIP SOBER: _(Their lawnmowers purring with a +rigadoon of grasshalms.)_ Clever ever. Out of it out of it. By the bye +have you the book, the thing, the ashplant? Yes, there it, yes. +Cleverever outofitnow. Keep in condition. Do like us. + +ZOE: There was a priest down here two nights ago to do his bit of +business with his coat buttoned up. You needn’t try to hide, I says to +him. I know you’ve a Roman collar. + +VIRAG: Perfectly logical from his standpoint. Fall of man. _(Harshly, +his pupils waxing.)_ To hell with the pope! Nothing new under the sun. +I am the Virag who disclosed the Sex Secrets of Monks and Maidens. Why +I left the church of Rome. Read the Priest, the Woman and the +Confessional. Penrose. Flipperty Jippert. _(He wriggles.)_ Woman, +undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni +to man’s lingam. Short time after man presents woman with pieces of +jungle meat. Woman shows joy and covers herself with featherskins. Man +loves her yoni fiercely with big lingam, the stiff one. _(He cries.) +Coactus volui._ Then giddy woman will run about. Strong man grapses +woman’s wrist. Woman squeals, bites, spucks. Man, now fierce angry, +strikes woman’s fat yadgana. _(He chases his tail.)_ Piffpaff! Popo! +_(He stops, sneezes.)_ Pchp! _(He worries his butt.)_ Prrrrrht! + +LYNCH: I hope you gave the good father a penance. Nine glorias for +shooting a bishop. + +ZOE: _(Spouts walrus smoke through her nostrils.)_ He couldn’t get a +connection. Only, you know, sensation. A dry rush. + +BLOOM: Poor man! + +ZOE: _(Lightly.)_ Only for what happened him. + +BLOOM: How? + +VIRAG: _(A diabolic rictus of black luminosity contracting his visage, +cranes his scraggy neck forward. He lifts a mooncalf nozzle and howls.) +Verfluchte Goim!_ He had a father, forty fathers. He never existed. Pig +God! He had two left feet. He was Judas Iacchia, a Libyan eunuch, the +pope’s bastard. _(He leans out on tortured forepaws, elbows bent rigid, +his eye agonising in his flat skullneck and yelps over the mute +world.)_ A son of a whore. Apocalypse. + +KITTY: And Mary Shortall that was in the lock with the pox she got from +Jimmy Pidgeon in the blue caps had a child off him that couldn’t +swallow and was smothered with the convulsions in the mattress and we +all subscribed for the funeral. + +PHILIP DRUNK: _(Gravely.) Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position, +Philippe?_ + +PHILIP SOBER: _(Gaily.) C’était le sacré pigeon, Philippe._ + +_(Kitty unpins her hat and sets it down calmly, patting her henna hair. +And a prettier, a daintier head of winsome curls was never seen on a +whore’s shoulders. Lynch puts on her hat. She whips it off.)_ + +LYNCH: _(Laughs.)_ And to such delights has Metchnikoff inoculated +anthropoid apes. + +FLORRY: _(Nods.)_ Locomotor ataxy. + +ZOE: _(Gaily.)_ O, my dictionary. + +LYNCH: Three wise virgins. + +VIRAG: _(Agueshaken, profuse yellow spawn foaming over his bony +epileptic lips.)_ She sold lovephiltres, whitewax, orangeflower. +Panther, the Roman centurion, polluted her with his genitories. _(He +sticks out a flickering phosphorescent scorpion tongue, his hand on his +fork.)_ Messiah! He burst her tympanum. _(With gibbering baboon’s cries +he jerks his hips in the cynical spasm.)_ Hik! Hek! Hak! Hok! Huk! Kok! +Kuk! + +_(Ben Jumbo Dollard, rubicund, musclebound, hairynostrilled, +hugebearded, cabbageeared, shaggychested, shockmaned, fatpapped, stands +forth, his loins and genitals tightened into a pair of black bathing +bagslops.)_ + +BEN DOLLARD: _(Nakkering castanet bones in his huge padded paws, yodels +jovially in base barreltone.)_ When love absorbs my ardent soul. + +_(The virgins Nurse Callan and Nurse Quigley burst through the +ringkeepers and the ropes and mob him with open arms.)_ + +THE VIRGINS: _(Gushingly.)_ Big Ben! Ben my Chree! + +A VOICE: Hold that fellow with the bad breeches. + +BEN DOLLARD: _(Smites his thigh in abundant laughter.)_ Hold him now. + +HENRY: _(Caressing on his breast a severed female head, murmurs.)_ +Thine heart, mine love. _(He plucks his lutestrings.)_ When first I +saw... + +VIRAG: _(Sloughing his skins, his multitudinous plumage moulting.)_ +Rats! _(He yawns, showing a coalblack throat, and closes his jaws by an +upward push of his parchmentroll.)_ After having said which I took my +departure. Farewell. Fare thee well. _Dreck!_ + +_(Henry Flower combs his moustache and beard rapidly with a pocketcomb +and gives a cow’s lick to his hair. Steered by his rapier, he glides to +the door, his wild harp slung behind him. Virag reaches the door in two +ungainly stilthops, his tail cocked, and deftly claps sideways on the +wall a pusyellow flybill, butting it with his head.)_ + +THE FLYBILL: K. 11. Post No Bills. Strictly confidential. Dr Hy Franks. + +HENRY: All is lost now. + +_(Virag unscrews his head in a trice and holds it under his arm.)_ + +VIRAG’S HEAD: Quack! + +_(Exeunt severally.)_ + +STEPHEN: _(Over his shoulder to Zoe.)_ You would have preferred the +fighting parson who founded the protestant error. But beware +Antisthenes, the dog sage, and the last end of Arius Heresiarchus. The +agony in the closet. + +LYNCH: All one and the same God to her. + +STEPHEN: _(Devoutly.)_ And sovereign Lord of all things. + +FLORRY: _(To Stephen.)_ I’m sure you’re a spoiled priest. Or a monk. + +LYNCH: He is. A cardinal’s son. + +STEPHEN: Cardinal sin. Monks of the screw. + +_(His Eminence Simon Stephen Cardinal Dedalus, Primate of all Ireland, +appears in the doorway, dressed in red soutane, sandals and socks. +Seven dwarf simian acolytes, also in red, cardinal sins, uphold his +train, peeping under it. He wears a battered silk hat sideways on his +head. His thumbs are stuck in his armpits and his palms outspread. +Round his neck hangs a rosary of corks ending on his breast in a +corkscrew cross. Releasing his thumbs, he invokes grace from on high +with large wave gestures and proclaims with bloated pomp:)_ + +THE CARDINAL: + + Conservio lies captured + He lies in the lowest dungeon + With manacles and chains around his limbs + Weighing upwards of three tons. + +_(He looks at all for a moment, his right eye closed tight, his left +cheek puffed out. Then, unable to repress his merriment, he rocks to +and fro, arms akimbo, and sings with broad rollicking humour:)_ + + O, the poor little fellow + Hihihihihis legs they were yellow + He was plump, fat and heavy and brisk as a snake + But some bloody savage + To graize his white cabbage + He murdered Nell Flaherty’s duckloving drake. + +_(A multitude of midges swarms white over his robe. He scratches +himself with crossed arms at his ribs, grimacing, and exclaims:)_ + +I’m suffering the agony of the damned. By the hoky fiddle, thanks be to +Jesus those funny little chaps are not unanimous. If they were they’d +walk me off the face of the bloody globe. + +_(His head aslant he blesses curtly with fore and middle fingers, +imparts the Easter kiss and doubleshuffles off comically, swaying his +hat from side to side, shrinking quickly to the size of his +trainbearers. The dwarf acolytes, giggling, peeping, nudging, ogling, +Easterkissing, zigzag behind him. His voice is heard mellow from afar, +merciful male, melodious:)_ + + Shall carry my heart to thee, + Shall carry my heart to thee, + And the breath of the balmy night + Shall carry my heart to thee! + + _(The trick doorhandle turns.)_ + +THE DOORHANDLE: Theeee! + +ZOE: The devil is in that door. + +_(A male form passes down the creaking staircase and is heard taking +the waterproof and hat from the rack. Bloom starts forward +involuntarily and, half closing the door as he passes, takes the +chocolate from his pocket and offers it nervously to Zoe.)_ + +ZOE: _(Sniffs his hair briskly.)_ Hmmm! Thank your mother for the +rabbits. I’m very fond of what I like. + +BLOOM: _(Hearing a male voice in talk with the whores on the doorstep, +pricks his ears.)_ If it were he? After? Or because not? Or the double +event? + +ZOE: _(Tears open the silverfoil.)_ Fingers was made before forks. +_(She breaks off and nibbles a piece, gives a piece to Kitty Ricketts +and then turns kittenishly to Lynch.)_ No objection to French lozenges? +_(He nods. She taunts him.)_ Have it now or wait till you get it? _(He +opens his mouth, his head cocked. She whirls the prize in left circle. +His head follows. She whirls it back in right circle. He eyes her.)_ +Catch! + +_(She tosses a piece. With an adroit snap he catches it and bites it +through with a crack.)_ + +KITTY: _(Chewing.)_ The engineer I was with at the bazaar does have +lovely ones. Full of the best liqueurs. And the viceroy was there with +his lady. The gas we had on the Toft’s hobbyhorses. I’m giddy still. + +BLOOM: _(In Svengali’s fur overcoat, with folded arms and Napoleonic +forelock, frowns in ventriloquial exorcism with piercing eagle glance +towards the door. Then rigid with left foot advanced he makes a swift +pass with impelling fingers and gives the sign of past master, drawing +his right arm downwards from his left shoulder.)_ Go, go, go, I conjure +you, whoever you are! + +_(A male cough and tread are heard passing through the mist outside. +Bloom’s features relax. He places a hand in his waistcoat, posing +calmly. Zoe offers him chocolate.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Solemnly.)_ Thanks. + +ZOE: Do as you’re bid. Here! + +_(A firm heelclacking tread is heard on the stairs.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Takes the chocolate.)_ Aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But +I bought it. Vanilla calms or? Mnemo. Confused light confuses memory. +Red influences lupus. Colours affect women’s characters, any they have. +This black makes me sad. Eat and be merry for tomorrow. _(He eats.)_ +Influence taste too, mauve. But it is so long since I. Seems new. +Aphro. That priest. Must come. Better late than never. Try truffles at +Andrews. + +_(The door opens. Bella Cohen, a massive whoremistress, enters. She is +dressed in a threequarter ivory gown, fringed round the hem with +tasselled selvedge, and cools herself flirting a black horn fan like +Minnie Hauck in_ Carmen. _On her left hand are wedding and keeper +rings. Her eyes are deeply carboned. She has a sprouting moustache. Her +olive face is heavy, slightly sweated and fullnosed with orangetainted +nostrils. She has large pendant beryl eardrops.)_ + +BELLA: My word! I’m all of a mucksweat. + +_(She glances round her at the couples. Then her eyes rest on Bloom +with hard insistence. Her large fan winnows wind towards her heated +faceneck and embonpoint. Her falcon eyes glitter.)_ + +THE FAN: _(Flirting quickly, then slowly.)_ Married, I see. + +BLOOM: Yes. Partly, I have mislaid... + +THE FAN: _(Half opening, then closing.)_ And the missus is master. +Petticoat government. + +BLOOM: _(Looks down with a sheepish grin.)_ That is so. + +THE FAN: _(Folding together, rests against her left eardrop.)_ Have you +forgotten me? + +BLOOM: Nes. Yo. + +THE FAN: _(Folded akimbo against her waist.)_ Is me her was you dreamed +before? Was then she him you us since knew? Am all them and the same +now we? + +_(Bella approaches, gently tapping with the fan.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Wincing.)_ Powerful being. In my eyes read that slumber which +women love. + +THE FAN: _(Tapping.)_ We have met. You are mine. It is fate. + +BLOOM: _(Cowed.)_ Exuberant female. Enormously I desiderate your +domination. I am exhausted, abandoned, no more young. I stand, so to +speak, with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before +the too late box of the general postoffice of human life. The door and +window open at a right angle cause a draught of thirtytwo feet per +second according to the law of falling bodies. I have felt this instant +a twinge of sciatica in my left glutear muscle. It runs in our family. +Poor dear papa, a widower, was a regular barometer from it. He believed +in animal heat. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat. Near the +end, remembering king David and the Sunamite, he shared his bed with +Athos, faithful after death. A dog’s spittle as you probably... _(He +winces.)_ Ah! + +RICHIE GOULDING: _(Bagweighted, passes the door.)_ Mocking is catch. +Best value in Dub. Fit for a prince’s. Liver and kidney. + +THE FAN: _(Tapping.)_ All things end. Be mine. Now. + +BLOOM: _(Undecided.)_ All now? I should not have parted with my +talisman. Rain, exposure at dewfall on the searocks, a peccadillo at my +time of life. Every phenomenon has a natural cause. + +THE FAN: _(Points downwards slowly.)_ You may. + +BLOOM: _(Looks downwards and perceives her unfastened bootlace.)_ We +are observed. + +THE FAN: _(Points downwards quickly.)_ You must. + +BLOOM: _(With desire, with reluctance.)_ I can make a true black knot. +Learned when I served my time and worked the mail order line for +Kellett’s. Experienced hand. Every knot says a lot. Let me. In +courtesy. I knelt once before today. Ah! + +_(Bella raises her gown slightly and, steadying her pose, lifts to the +edge of a chair a plump buskined hoof and a full pastern, silksocked. +Bloom, stifflegged, aging, bends over her hoof and with gentle fingers +draws out and in her laces.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Murmurs lovingly.)_ To be a shoefitter in Manfield’s was my +love’s young dream, the darling joys of sweet buttonhooking, to lace up +crisscrossed to kneelength the dressy kid footwear satinlined, so +incredibly impossibly small, of Clyde Road ladies. Even their wax model +Raymonde I visited daily to admire her cobweb hose and stick of rhubarb +toe, as worn in Paris. + +THE HOOF: Smell my hot goathide. Feel my royal weight. + +BLOOM: _(Crosslacing.)_ Too tight? + +THE HOOF: If you bungle, Handy Andy, I’ll kick your football for you. + +BLOOM: Not to lace the wrong eyelet as I did the night of the bazaar +dance. Bad luck. Hook in wrong tache of her... person you mentioned. +That night she met... Now! + +_(He knots the lace. Bella places her foot on the floor. Bloom raises +his head. Her heavy face, her eyes strike him in midbrow. His eyes grow +dull, darker and pouched, his nose thickens.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Mumbles.)_ Awaiting your further orders we remain, +gentlemen,... + +BELLO: _(With a hard basilisk stare, in a baritone voice.)_ Hound of +dishonour! + +BLOOM: _(Infatuated.)_ Empress! + +BELLO: _(His heavy cheekchops sagging.)_ Adorer of the adulterous rump! + +BLOOM: _(Plaintively.)_ Hugeness! + +BELLO: Dungdevourer! + +BLOOM: _(With sinews semiflexed.)_ Magmagnificence! + +BELLO: Down! _(He taps her on the shoulder with his fan.)_ Incline feet +forward! Slide left foot one pace back! You will fall. You are falling. +On the hands down! + +BLOOM: _(Her eyes upturned in the sign of admiration, closing, yaps.)_ +Truffles! + +_(With a piercing epileptic cry she sinks on all fours, grunting, +snuffling, rooting at his feet: then lies, shamming dead, with eyes +shut tight, trembling eyelids, bowed upon the ground in the attitude of +most excellent master.)_ + +BELLO: _(With bobbed hair, purple gills, fat moustache rings round his +shaven mouth, in mountaineer’s puttees, green silverbuttoned coat, +sport skirt and alpine hat with moorcock’s feather, his hands stuck +deep in his breeches pockets, places his heel on her neck and grinds it +in.)_ Footstool! Feel my entire weight. Bow, bondslave, before the +throne of your despot’s glorious heels so glistening in their proud +erectness. + +BLOOM: _(Enthralled, bleats.)_ I promise never to disobey. + +BELLO: _(Laughs loudly.)_ Holy smoke! You little know what’s in store +for you. I’m the Tartar to settle your little lot and break you in! +I’ll bet Kentucky cocktails all round I shame it out of you, old son. +Cheek me, I dare you. If you do tremble in anticipation of heel +discipline to be inflicted in gym costume. + +_(Bloom creeps under the sofa and peers out through the fringe.)_ + +ZOE: _(Widening her slip to screen her.)_ She’s not here. + +BLOOM: _(Closing her eyes.)_ She’s not here. + +FLORRY: _(Hiding her with her gown.)_ She didn’t mean it, Mr Bello. +She’ll be good, sir. + +KITTY: Don’t be too hard on her, Mr Bello. Sure you won’t, ma’amsir. + +BELLO: _(Coaxingly.)_ Come, ducky dear, I want a word with you, +darling, just to administer correction. Just a little heart to heart +talk, sweety. _(Bloom puts out her timid head.)_ There’s a good girly +now. _(Bello grabs her hair violently and drags her forward.)_ I only +want to correct you for your own good on a soft safe spot. How’s that +tender behind? O, ever so gently, pet. Begin to get ready. + +BLOOM: _(Fainting.)_ Don’t tear my... + +BELLO: _(Savagely.)_ The nosering, the pliers, the bastinado, the +hanging hook, the knout I’ll make you kiss while the flutes play like +the Nubian slave of old. You’re in for it this time! I’ll make you +remember me for the balance of your natural life. _(His forehead veins +swollen, his face congested.)_ I shall sit on your ottoman saddleback +every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson’s fat +hamrashers and a bottle of Guinness’s porter. _(He belches.)_ And suck +my thumping good Stock Exchange cigar while I read the _Licensed +Victualler’s Gazette_. Very possibly I shall have you slaughtered and +skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling +from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and +lemon or currant sauce. It will hurt you. _(He twists her arm. Bloom +squeals, turning turtle.)_ + +BLOOM: Don’t be cruel, nurse! Don’t! + +BELLO: _(Twisting.)_ Another! + +BLOOM: _(Screams.)_ O, it’s hell itself! Every nerve in my body aches +like mad! + +BELLO: _(Shouts.)_ Good, by the rumping jumping general! That’s the +best bit of news I heard these six weeks. Here, don’t keep me waiting, +damn you! _(He slaps her face.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Whimpers.)_ You’re after hitting me. I’ll tell... + +BELLO: Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him. + +ZOE: Yes. Walk on him! I will. + +FLORRY: I will. Don’t be greedy. + +KITTY: No, me. Lend him to me. + +_(The brothel cook, Mrs Keogh, wrinkled, greybearded, in a greasy bib, +men’s grey and green socks and brogues, floursmeared, a rollingpin +stuck with raw pastry in her bare red arm and hand, appears at the +door.)_ + +MRS KEOGH: _(Ferociously.)_ Can I help? _(They hold and pinion Bloom.)_ + +BELLO: _(Squats with a grunt on Bloom’s upturned face, puffing +cigarsmoke, nursing a fat leg.)_ I see Keating Clay is elected +vicechairman of the Richmond asylum and by the by Guinness’s preference +shares are at sixteen three quarters. Curse me for a fool that didn’t +buy that lot Craig and Gardner told me about. Just my infernal luck, +curse it. And that Goddamned outsider _Throwaway_ at twenty to one. +_(He quenches his cigar angrily on Bloom’s ear.)_ Where’s that +Goddamned cursed ashtray? + +BLOOM: _(Goaded, buttocksmothered.)_ O! O! Monsters! Cruel one! + +BELLO: Ask for that every ten minutes. Beg. Pray for it as you never +prayed before. _(He thrusts out a figged fist and foul cigar.)_ Here, +kiss that. Both. Kiss. _(He throws a leg astride and, pressing with +horseman’s knees, calls in a hard voice.)_ Gee up! A cockhorse to +Banbury cross. I’ll ride him for the Eclipse stakes. _(He bends +sideways and squeezes his mount’s testicles roughly, shouting.)_ Ho! +Off we pop! I’ll nurse you in proper fashion. _(He horserides +cockhorse, leaping in the, in the saddle.)_ The lady goes a pace a pace +and the coachman goes a trot a trot and the gentleman goes a gallop a +gallop a gallop a gallop. + +FLORRY: _(Pulls at Bello.)_ Let me on him now. You had enough. I asked +before you. + +ZOE: _(Pulling at Florry.)_ Me. Me. Are you not finished with him yet, +suckeress? + +BLOOM: _(Stifling.)_ Can’t. + +BELLO: Well, I’m not. Wait. _(He holds in his breath.)_ Curse it. Here. +This bung’s about burst. _(He uncorks himself behind: then, contorting +his features, farts loudly.)_ Take that! _(He recorks himself.)_ Yes, +by Jingo, sixteen three quarters. + +BLOOM: _(A sweat breaking out over him.)_ Not man. _(He sniffs.)_ +Woman. + +BELLO: _(Stands up.)_ No more blow hot and cold. What you longed for +has come to pass. Henceforth you are unmanned and mine in earnest, a +thing under the yoke. Now for your punishment frock. You will shed your +male garments, you understand, Ruby Cohen? and don the shot silk +luxuriously rustling over head and shoulders. And quickly too! + +BLOOM: _(Shrinks.)_ Silk, mistress said! O crinkly! scrapy! Must I +tiptouch it with my nails? + +BELLO: _(Points to his whores.)_ As they are now so will you be, +wigged, singed, perfumesprayed, ricepowdered, with smoothshaven +armpits. Tape measurements will be taken next your skin. You will be +laced with cruel force into vicelike corsets of soft dove coutille with +whalebone busk to the diamondtrimmed pelvis, the absolute outside edge, +while your figure, plumper than when at large, will be restrained in +nettight frocks, pretty two ounce petticoats and fringes and things +stamped, of course, with my houseflag, creations of lovely lingerie for +Alice and nice scent for Alice. Alice will feel the pullpull. Martha +and Mary will be a little chilly at first in such delicate thighcasing +but the frilly flimsiness of lace round your bare knees will remind +you... + +BLOOM: _(A charming soubrette with dauby cheeks, mustard hair and large +male hands and nose, leering mouth.)_ I tried her things on only twice, +a small prank, in Holles street. When we were hard up I washed them to +save the laundry bill. My own shirts I turned. It was the purest +thrift. + +BELLO: _(Jeers.)_ Little jobs that make mother pleased, eh? And showed +off coquettishly in your domino at the mirror behind closedrawn blinds +your unskirted thighs and hegoat’s udders in various poses of +surrender, eh? Ho! ho! I have to laugh! That secondhand black operatop +shift and short trunkleg naughties all split up the stitches at her +last rape that Mrs Miriam Dandrade sold you from the Shelbourne hotel, +eh? + +BLOOM: Miriam. Black. Demimondaine. + +BELLO: _(Guffaws.)_ Christ Almighty it’s too tickling, this! You were a +nicelooking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay +swooning in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be +violated by lieutenant Smythe-Smythe, Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell M. +P., signor Laci Daremo, the robust tenor, blueeyed Bert, the liftboy, +Henri Fleury of Gordon Bennett fame, Sheridan, the quadroon Croesus, +the varsity wetbob eight from old Trinity, Ponto, her splendid +Newfoundland and Bobs, dowager duchess of Manorhamilton. _(He guffaws +again.)_ Christ, wouldn’t it make a Siamese cat laugh? + +BLOOM: _(Her hands and features working.)_ It was Gerald converted me +to be a true corsetlover when I was female impersonator in the High +School play _Vice Versa_. It was dear Gerald. He got that kink, +fascinated by sister’s stays. Now dearest Gerald uses pinky greasepaint +and gilds his eyelids. Cult of the beautiful. + +BELLO: _(With wicked glee.)_ Beautiful! Give us a breather! When you +took your seat with womanish care, lifting your billowy flounces, on +the smoothworn throne. + +BLOOM: Science. To compare the various joys we each enjoy. +_(Earnestly.)_ And really it’s better the position... because often I +used to wet... + +BELLO: _(Sternly.)_ No insubordination! The sawdust is there in the +corner for you. I gave you strict instructions, didn’t I? Do it +standing, sir! I’ll teach you to behave like a jinkleman! If I catch a +trace on your swaddles. Aha! By the ass of the Dorans you’ll find I’m a +martinet. The sins of your past are rising against you. Many. Hundreds. + +THE SINS OF THE PAST: _(In a medley of voices.)_ He went through a form +of clandestine marriage with at least one woman in the shadow of the +Black church. Unspeakable messages he telephoned mentally to Miss Dunn +at an address in D’Olier street while he presented himself indecently +to the instrument in the callbox. By word and deed he frankly +encouraged a nocturnal strumpet to deposit fecal and other matter in an +unsanitary outhouse attached to empty premises. In five public +conveniences he wrote pencilled messages offering his nuptial partner +to all strongmembered males. And by the offensively smelling vitriol +works did he not pass night after night by loving courting couples to +see if and what and how much he could see? Did he not lie in bed, the +gross boar, gloating over a nauseous fragment of wellused toilet paper +presented to him by a nasty harlot, stimulated by gingerbread and a +postal order? + +BELLO: _(Whistles loudly.)_ Say! What was the most revolting piece of +obscenity in all your career of crime? Go the whole hog. Puke it out! +Be candid for once. + +_(Mute inhuman faces throng forward, leering, vanishing, gibbering, +Booloohoom. Poldy Kock, Bootlaces a penny, Cassidy’s hag, blind +stripling, Larry Rhinoceros, the girl, the woman, the whore, the other, +the...)_ + +BLOOM: Don’t ask me! Our mutual faith. Pleasants street. I only thought +the half of the... I swear on my sacred oath... + +BELLO: _(Peremptorily.)_ Answer. Repugnant wretch! I insist on knowing. +Tell me something to amuse me, smut or a bloody good ghoststory or a +line of poetry, quick, quick, quick! Where? How? What time? With how +many? I give you just three seconds. One! Two! Thr... + +BLOOM: _(Docile, gurgles.)_ I rererepugnosed in rerererepugnant... + +BELLO: _(Imperiously.)_ O, get out, you skunk! Hold your tongue! Speak +when you’re spoken to. + +BLOOM: _(Bows.)_ Master! Mistress! Mantamer! + +_(He lifts his arms. His bangle bracelets fall.)_ + +BELLO: _(Satirically.)_ By day you will souse and bat our smelling +underclothes also when we ladies are unwell, and swab out our latrines +with dress pinned up and a dishclout tied to your tail. Won’t that be +nice? _(He places a ruby ring on her finger.)_ And there now! With this +ring I thee own. Say, thank you, mistress. + +BLOOM: Thank you, mistress. + +BELLO: You will make the beds, get my tub ready, empty the pisspots in +the different rooms, including old Mrs Keogh’s the cook’s, a sandy one. +Ay, and rinse the seven of them well, mind, or lap it up like +champagne. Drink me piping hot. Hop! You will dance attendance or I’ll +lecture you on your misdeeds, Miss Ruby, and spank your bare bot right +well, miss, with the hairbrush. You’ll be taught the error of your +ways. At night your wellcreamed braceletted hands will wear +fortythreebutton gloves newpowdered with talc and having delicately +scented fingertips. For such favours knights of old laid down their +lives. _(He chuckles.)_ My boys will be no end charmed to see you so +ladylike, the colonel, above all, when they come here the night before +the wedding to fondle my new attraction in gilded heels. First I’ll +have a go at you myself. A man I know on the turf named Charles Alberta +Marsh (I was in bed with him just now and another gentleman out of the +Hanaper and Petty Bag office) is on the lookout for a maid of all work +at a short knock. Swell the bust. Smile. Droop shoulders. What offers? +_(He points.)_ For that lot. Trained by owner to fetch and carry, +basket in mouth. _(He bares his arm and plunges it elbowdeep in Bloom’s +vulva.)_ There’s fine depth for you! What, boys? That give you a +hardon? _(He shoves his arm in a bidder’s face.)_ Here wet the deck and +wipe it round! + +A BIDDER: A florin. + +_(Dillon’s lacquey rings his handbell.)_ + +THE LACQUEY: Barang! + +A VOICE: One and eightpence too much. + +CHARLES ALBERTA MARSH: Must be virgin. Good breath. Clean. + +BELLO: _(Gives a rap with his gavel.)_ Two bar. Rockbottom figure and +cheap at the price. Fourteen hands high. Touch and examine shis points. +Handle hrim. This downy skin, these soft muscles, this tender flesh. If +I had only my gold piercer here! And quite easy to milk. Three newlaid +gallons a day. A pure stockgetter, due to lay within the hour. His +sire’s milk record was a thousand gallons of whole milk in forty weeks. +Whoa, my jewel! Beg up! Whoa! _(He brands his initial C on Bloom’s +croup.)_ So! Warranted Cohen! What advance on two bob, gentlemen? + +A DARKVISAGED MAN: _(In disguised accent.)_ Hoondert punt sterlink. + +VOICES: _(Subdued.)_ For the Caliph. Haroun Al Raschid. + +BELLO: _(Gaily.)_ Right. Let them all come. The scanty, daringly short +skirt, riding up at the knee to show a peep of white pantalette, is a +potent weapon and transparent stockings, emeraldgartered, with the long +straight seam trailing up beyond the knee, appeal to the better +instincts of the _blasé_ man about town. Learn the smooth mincing walk +on four inch Louis Quinze heels, the Grecian bend with provoking croup, +the thighs fluescent, knees modestly kissing. Bring all your powers of +fascination to bear on them. Pander to their Gomorrahan vices. + +BLOOM: _(Bends his blushing face into his armpit and simpers with +forefinger in mouth.)_ O, I know what you’re hinting at now! + +BELLO: What else are you good for, an impotent thing like you? _(He +stoops and, peering, pokes with his fan rudely under the fat suet folds +of Bloom’s haunches.)_ Up! Up! Manx cat! What have we here? Where’s +your curly teapot gone to or who docked it on you, cockyolly? Sing, +birdy, sing. It’s as limp as a boy of six’s doing his pooly behind a +cart. Buy a bucket or sell your pump. _(Loudly.)_ Can you do a man’s +job? + +BLOOM: Eccles street... + +BELLO: _(Sarcastically.)_ I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for the world +but there’s a man of brawn in possession there. The tables are turned, +my gay young fellow! He is something like a fullgrown outdoor man. Well +for you, you muff, if you had that weapon with knobs and lumps and +warts all over it. He shot his bolt, I can tell you! Foot to foot, knee +to knee, belly to belly, bubs to breast! He’s no eunuch. A shock of red +hair he has sticking out of him behind like a furzebush! Wait for nine +months, my lad! Holy ginger, it’s kicking and coughing up and down in +her guts already! That makes you wild, don’t it? Touches the spot? _(He +spits in contempt.)_ Spittoon! + +BLOOM: I was indecently treated, I... Inform the police. Hundred +pounds. Unmentionable. I... + +BELLO: Would if you could, lame duck. A downpour we want not your +drizzle. + +BLOOM: To drive me mad! Moll! I forgot! Forgive! Moll... We... Still... + +BELLO: _(Ruthlessly.)_ No, Leopold Bloom, all is changed by woman’s +will since you slept horizontal in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty +years. Return and see. + +_(Old Sleepy Hollow calls over the wold.)_ + +SLEEPY HOLLOW: Rip van Wink! Rip van Winkle! + +BLOOM: _(In tattered mocassins with a rusty fowlingpiece, tiptoeing, +fingertipping, his haggard bony bearded face peering through the +diamond panes, cries out.)_ I see her! It’s she! The first night at Mat +Dillon’s! But that dress, the green! And her hair is dyed gold and +he... + +BELLO: _(Laughs mockingly.)_ That’s your daughter, you owl, with a +Mullingar student. + +_(Milly Bloom, fairhaired, greenvested, slimsandalled, her blue scarf +in the seawind simply swirling, breaks from the arms of her lover and +calls, her young eyes wonderwide.)_ + +MILLY: My! It’s Papli! But, O Papli, how old you’ve grown! + +BELLO: Changed, eh? Our whatnot, our writingtable where we never wrote, +aunt Hegarty’s armchair, our classic reprints of old masters. A man and +his menfriends are living there in clover. The _Cuckoos’ Rest!_ Why +not? How many women had you, eh, following them up dark streets, +flatfoot, exciting them by your smothered grunts, what, you male +prostitute? Blameless dames with parcels of groceries. Turn about. +Sauce for the goose, my gander O. + +BLOOM: They... I... + +BELLO: _(Cuttingly.)_ Their heelmarks will stamp the Brusselette carpet +you bought at Wren’s auction. In their horseplay with Moll the romp to +find the buck flea in her breeches they will deface the little statue +you carried home in the rain for art for art’s sake. They will violate +the secrets of your bottom drawer. Pages will be torn from your +handbook of astronomy to make them pipespills. And they will spit in +your ten shilling brass fender from Hampton Leedom’s. + +BLOOM: Ten and six. The act of low scoundrels. Let me go. I will +return. I will prove... + +A VOICE: Swear! + +_(Bloom clenches his fists and crawls forward, a bowieknife between his +teeth.)_ + +BELLO: As a paying guest or a kept man? Too late. You have made your +secondbest bed and others must lie in it. Your epitaph is written. You +are down and out and don’t you forget it, old bean. + +BLOOM: Justice! All Ireland versus one! Has nobody...? _(He bites his +thumb.)_ + +BELLO: Die and be damned to you if you have any sense of decency or +grace about you. I can give you a rare old wine that’ll send you +skipping to hell and back. Sign a will and leave us any coin you have! +If you have none see you damn well get it, steal it, rob it! We’ll bury +you in our shrubbery jakes where you’ll be dead and dirty with old Cuck +Cohen, my stepnephew I married, the bloody old gouty procurator and +sodomite with a crick in his neck, and my other ten or eleven husbands, +whatever the buggers’ names were, suffocated in the one cesspool. _(He +explodes in a loud phlegmy laugh.)_ We’ll manure you, Mr Flower! _(He +pipes scoffingly.)_ Byby, Poldy! Byby, Papli! + +BLOOM: _(Clasps his head.)_ My willpower! Memory! I have sinned! I have +suff... + +_(He weeps tearlessly.)_ + +BELLO: _(Sneers.)_ Crybabby! Crocodile tears! + +_(Bloom, broken, closely veiled for the sacrifice, sobs, his face to +the earth. The passing bell is heard. Darkshawled figures of the +circumcised, in sackcloth and ashes, stand by the wailing wall. M. +Shulomowitz, Joseph Goldwater, Moses Herzog, Harris Rosenberg, M. +Moisel, J. Citron, Minnie Watchman, P. Mastiansky, The Reverend Leopold +Abramovitz, Chazen. With swaying arms they wail in pneuma over the +recreant Bloom.)_ + +THE CIRCUMCISED: _(In dark guttural chant as they cast dead sea fruit +upon him, no flowers.) Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echad._ + +VOICES: _(Sighing.)_ So he’s gone. Ah yes. Yes, indeed. Bloom? Never +heard of him. No? Queer kind of chap. There’s the widow. That so? Ah, +yes. + +_(From the suttee pyre the flame of gum camphire ascends. The pall of +incense smoke screens and disperses. Out of her oakframe a nymph with +hair unbound, lightly clad in teabrown artcolours, descends from her +grotto and passing under interlacing yews stands over Bloom.)_ + +THE YEWS: _(Their leaves whispering.)_ Sister. Our sister. Ssh! + +THE NYMPH: _(Softly.)_ Mortal! _(Kindly.)_ Nay, dost not weepest! + +BLOOM: _(Crawls jellily forward under the boughs, streaked by sunlight, +with dignity.)_ This position. I felt it was expected of me. Force of +habit. + +THE NYMPH: Mortal! You found me in evil company, highkickers, coster +picnicmakers, pugilists, popular generals, immoral panto boys in +fleshtights and the nifty shimmy dancers, La Aurora and Karini, musical +act, the hit of the century. I was hidden in cheap pink paper that +smelt of rock oil. I was surrounded by the stale smut of clubmen, +stories to disturb callow youth, ads for transparencies, truedup dice +and bustpads, proprietary articles and why wear a truss with +testimonial from ruptured gentleman. Useful hints to the married. + +BLOOM: _(Lifts a turtle head towards her lap.)_ We have met before. On +another star. + +THE NYMPH: _(Sadly.)_ Rubber goods. Neverrip brand as supplied to the +aristocracy. Corsets for men. I cure fits or money refunded. +Unsolicited testimonials for Professor Waldmann’s wonderful chest +exuber. My bust developed four inches in three weeks, reports Mrs Gus +Rublin with photo. + +BLOOM: You mean _Photo Bits?_ + +THE NYMPH: I do. You bore me away, framed me in oak and tinsel, set me +above your marriage couch. Unseen, one summer eve, you kissed me in +four places. And with loving pencil you shaded my eyes, my bosom and my +shame. + +BLOOM: _(Humbly kisses her long hair.)_ Your classic curves, beautiful +immortal, I was glad to look on you, to praise you, a thing of beauty, +almost to pray. + +THE NYMPH: During dark nights I heard your praise. + +BLOOM: _(Quickly.)_ Yes, yes. You mean that I... Sleep reveals the +worst side of everyone, children perhaps excepted. I know I fell out of +bed or rather was pushed. Steel wine is said to cure snoring. For the +rest there is that English invention, pamphlet of which I received some +days ago, incorrectly addressed. It claims to afford a noiseless, +inoffensive vent. _(He sighs.)_ ’Twas ever thus. Frailty, thy name is +marriage. + +THE NYMPH: _(Her fingers in her ears.)_ And words. They are not in my +dictionary. + +BLOOM: You understood them? + +THE YEWS: Ssh! + +THE NYMPH: _(Covers her face with her hands.)_ What have I not seen in +that chamber? What must my eyes look down on? + +BLOOM: _(Apologetically.)_ I know. Soiled personal linen, wrong side up +with care. The quoits are loose. From Gibraltar by long sea long ago. + +THE NYMPH: _(Bends her head.)_ Worse, worse! + +BLOOM: _(Reflects precautiously.)_ That antiquated commode. It wasn’t +her weight. She scaled just eleven stone nine. She put on nine pounds +after weaning. It was a crack and want of glue. Eh? And that absurd +orangekeyed utensil which has only one handle. + +_(The sound of a waterfall is heard in bright cascade.)_ + +THE WATERFALL: + + Poulaphouca Poulaphouca + Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. + +THE YEWS: _(Mingling their boughs.)_ Listen. Whisper. She is right, our +sister. We grew by Poulaphouca waterfall. We gave shade on languorous +summer days. + +JOHN WYSE NOLAN: _(In the background, in Irish National Forester’s +uniform, doffs his plumed hat.)_ Prosper! Give shade on languorous +days, trees of Ireland! + +THE YEWS: _(Murmuring.)_ Who came to Poulaphouca with the High School +excursion? Who left his nutquesting classmates to seek our shade? + +BLOOM: _(Scared.)_ High School of Poula? Mnemo? Not in full possession +of faculties. Concussion. Run over by tram. + +THE ECHO: Sham! + +BLOOM: _(Pigeonbreasted, bottleshouldered, padded, in nondescript +juvenile grey and black striped suit, too small for him, white tennis +shoes, bordered stockings with turnover tops and a red schoolcap with +badge.)_ I was in my teens, a growing boy. A little then sufficed, a +jolting car, the mingling odours of the ladies’ cloakroom and lavatory, +the throng penned tight on the old Royal stairs (for they love crushes, +instinct of the herd, and the dark sexsmelling theatre unbridles vice), +even a pricelist of their hosiery. And then the heat. There were +sunspots that summer. End of school. And tipsycake. Halcyon days. + +_(Halcyon days, high school boys in blue and white football jerseys and +shorts, Master Donald Turnbull, Master Abraham Chatterton, Master Owen +Goldberg, Master Jack Meredith, Master Percy Apjohn, stand in a +clearing of the trees and shout to Master Leopold Bloom.)_ + +THE HALCYON DAYS: Mackerel! Live us again. Hurray! _(They cheer.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Hobbledehoy, warmgloved, mammamufflered, starred with spent +snowballs, struggles to rise.)_ Again! I feel sixteen! What a lark! +Let’s ring all the bells in Montague street. _(He cheers feebly.)_ +Hurray for the High School! + +THE ECHO: Fool! + +THE YEWS: _(Rustling.)_ She is right, our sister. Whisper. _(Whispered +kisses are heard in all the wood. Faces of hamadryads peep out from the +boles and among the leaves and break, blossoming into bloom.)_ Who +profaned our silent shade? + +THE NYMPH: _(Coyly, through parting fingers.)_ There? In the open air? + +THE YEWS: _(Sweeping downward.)_ Sister, yes. And on our virgin sward. + +THE WATERFALL: + + Poulaphouca Poulaphouca + Phoucaphouca Phoucaphouca. + +THE NYMPH: _(With wide fingers.)_ O, infamy! + +BLOOM: I was precocious. Youth. The fauna. I sacrificed to the god of +the forest. The flowers that bloom in the spring. It was pairing time. +Capillary attraction is a natural phenomenon. Lotty Clarke, +flaxenhaired, I saw at her night toilette through illclosed curtains +with poor papa’s operaglasses: The wanton ate grass wildly. She rolled +downhill at Rialto bridge to tempt me with her flow of animal spirits. +She climbed their crooked tree and I... A saint couldn’t resist it. The +demon possessed me. Besides, who saw? + +_(Staggering Bob, a whitepolled calf, thrusts a ruminating head with +humid nostrils through the foliage.)_ + +STAGGERING BOB: (_Large teardrops rolling from his prominent eyes, +snivels._) Me. Me see. + +BLOOM: Simply satisfying a need I... _(With pathos.)_ No girl would +when I went girling. Too ugly. They wouldn’t play... + +_(High on Ben Howth through rhododendrons a nannygoat passes, +plumpuddered, buttytailed, dropping currants.)_ + +THE NANNYGOAT: _(Bleats.)_ Megeggaggegg! Nannannanny! + +BLOOM: _(Hatless, flushed, covered with burrs of thistledown and +gorsespine.)_ Regularly engaged. Circumstances alter cases. _(He gazes +intently downwards on the water.)_ Thirtytwo head over heels per +second. Press nightmare. Giddy Elijah. Fall from cliff. Sad end of +government printer’s clerk. _(Through silversilent summer air the dummy +of Bloom, rolled in a mummy, rolls roteatingly from the Lion’s Head +cliff into the purple waiting waters.)_ + +THE DUMMYMUMMY: Bbbbblllllblblblblobschbg! + +_(Far out in the bay between Bailey and Kish lights the_ Erin’s King +_sails, sending a broadening plume of coalsmoke from her funnel towards +the land.)_ + +COUNCILLOR NANNETTI: _(Alone on deck, in dark alpaca, yellowkitefaced, +his hand in his waistcoat opening, declaims.)_ When my country takes +her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let +my epitaph be written. I have... + +BLOOM: Done. Prff! + +THE NYMPH: _(Loftily.)_ We immortals, as you saw today, have not such a +place and no hair there either. We are stonecold and pure. We eat +electric light. _(She arches her body in lascivious crispation, placing +her forefinger in her mouth.)_ Spoke to me. Heard from behind. How then +could you...? + +BLOOM: _(Pawing the heather abjectly.)_ O, I have been a perfect pig. +Enemas too I have administered. One third of a pint of quassia to which +add a tablespoonful of rocksalt. Up the fundament. With Hamilton Long’s +syringe, the ladies’ friend. + +THE NYMPH: In my presence. The powderpuff. _(She blushes and makes a +knee.)_ And the rest! + +BLOOM: _(Dejected.)_ Yes. _Peccavi!_ I have paid homage on that living +altar where the back changes name. _(With sudden fervour.)_ For why +should the dainty scented jewelled hand, the hand that rules...? + +_(Figures wind serpenting in slow woodland pattern around the +treestems, cooeeing.)_ + +THE VOICE OF KITTY: _(In the thicket.)_ Show us one of them cushions. + +THE VOICE OF FLORRY: Here. + +_(A grouse wings clumsily through the underwood.)_ + +THE VOICE OF LYNCH: _(In the thicket.)_ Whew! Piping hot! + +THE VOICE OF ZOE: _(From the thicket.)_ Came from a hot place. + +THE VOICE OF VIRAG: _(A birdchief, bluestreaked and feathered in war +panoply with his assegai, striding through a crackling canebrake over +beechmast and acorns.)_ Hot! Hot! Ware Sitting Bull! + +BLOOM: It overpowers me. The warm impress of her warm form. Even to sit +where a woman has sat, especially with divaricated thighs, as though to +grant the last favours, most especially with previously well uplifted +white sateen coatpans. So womanly, full. It fills me full. + +THE WATERFALL: + + Phillaphulla Poulaphouca + Poulaphouca Poulaphouca. + +THE YEWS: Ssh! Sister, speak! + +THE NYMPH: _(Eyeless, in nun’s white habit, coif and hugewinged wimple, +softly, with remote eyes.)_ Tranquilla convent. Sister Agatha. Mount +Carmel. The apparitions of Knock and Lourdes. No more desire. _(She +reclines her head, sighing.)_ Only the ethereal. Where dreamy creamy +gull waves o’er the waters dull. + +_(Bloom half rises. His back trouserbutton snaps.)_ + +THE BUTTON: Bip! + +_(Two sluts of the Coombe dance rainily by, shawled, yelling flatly.)_ + +THE SLUTS: + + O, Leopold lost the pin of his drawers + He didn’t know what to do, + To keep it up, + To keep it up. + +BLOOM: _(Coldly.)_ You have broken the spell. The last straw. If there +were only ethereal where would you all be, postulants and novices? Shy +but willing like an ass pissing. + +THE YEWS: _(Their silverfoil of leaves precipitating, their skinny arms +aging and swaying.)_ Deciduously! + +THE NYMPH: _(Her features hardening, gropes in the folds of her +habit.)_ Sacrilege! To attempt my virtue! _(A large moist stain appears +on her robe.)_ Sully my innocence! You are not fit to touch the garment +of a pure woman. _(She clutches again in her robe.)_ Wait. Satan, +you’ll sing no more lovesongs. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. _(She draws a +poniard and, clad in the sheathmail of an elected knight of nine, +strikes at his loins.)_ Nekum! + +BLOOM: _(Starts up, seizes her hand.)_ Hoy! Nebrakada! Cat o’ nine +lives! Fair play, madam. No pruningknife. The fox and the grapes, is +it? What do you lack with your barbed wire? Crucifix not thick enough? +_(He clutches her veil.)_ A holy abbot you want or Brophy, the lame +gardener, or the spoutless statue of the watercarrier, or good mother +Alphonsus, eh Reynard? + +THE NYMPH: _(With a cry flees from him unveiled, her plaster cast +cracking, a cloud of stench escaping from the cracks.)_ Poli...! + +BLOOM: _(Calls after her.)_ As if you didn’t get it on the double +yourselves. No jerks and multiple mucosities all over you. I tried it. +Your strength our weakness. What’s our studfee? What will you pay on +the nail? You fee mendancers on the Riviera, I read. _(The fleeing +nymph raises a keen.)_ Eh? I have sixteen years of black slave labour +behind me. And would a jury give me five shillings alimony tomorrow, +eh? Fool someone else, not me. _(He sniffs.)_ Rut. Onions. Stale. +Sulphur. Grease. + +_(The figure of Bella Cohen stands before him.)_ + +BELLA: You’ll know me the next time. + +BLOOM: _(Composed, regards her.) Passée._ Mutton dressed as lamb. Long +in the tooth and superfluous hair. A raw onion the last thing at night +would benefit your complexion. And take some double chin drill. Your +eyes are as vapid as the glasseyes of your stuffed fox. They have the +dimensions of your other features, that’s all. I’m not a triple screw +propeller. + +BELLA: _(Contemptuously.)_ You’re not game, in fact. _(Her sowcunt +barks.)_ Fbhracht! + +BLOOM: _(Contemptuously.)_ Clean your nailless middle finger first, +your bully’s cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb. Take a handful +of hay and wipe yourself. + +BELLA: I know you, canvasser! Dead cod! + +BLOOM: I saw him, kipkeeper! Pox and gleet vendor! + +BELLA: _(Turns to the piano.)_ Which of you was playing the dead march +from _Saul?_ + +ZOE: Me. Mind your cornflowers. _(She darts to the piano and bangs +chords on it with crossed arms.)_ The cat’s ramble through the slag. +_(She glances back.)_ Eh? Who’s making love to my sweeties? _(She darts +back to the table.)_ What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is my own. + +_(Kitty, disconcerted, coats her teeth with the silver paper. Bloom +approaches Zoe.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Gently.)_ Give me back that potato, will you? + +ZOE: Forfeits, a fine thing and a superfine thing. + +BLOOM: _(With feeling.)_ It is nothing, but still, a relic of poor +mamma. + +ZOE: + + Give a thing and take it back + God’ll ask you where is that + You’ll say you don’t know + God’ll send you down below. + +BLOOM: There is a memory attached to it. I should like to have it. + +STEPHEN: To have or not to have that is the question. + +ZOE: Here. _(She hauls up a reef of her slip, revealing her bare thigh, +and unrolls the potato from the top of her stocking.)_ Those that hides +knows where to find. + +BELLA: _(Frowns.)_ Here. This isn’t a musical peepshow. And don’t you +smash that piano. Who’s paying here? + +_(She goes to the pianola. Stephen fumbles in his pocket and, taking +out a banknote by its corner, hands it to her.)_ + +STEPHEN: _(With exaggerated politeness.)_ This silken purse I made out +of the sow’s ear of the public. Madam, excuse me. If you allow me. _(He +indicates vaguely Lynch and Bloom.)_ We are all in the same sweepstake, +Kinch and Lynch. _Dans ce bordel où tenons nostre état_. + +LYNCH: _(Calls from the hearth.)_ Dedalus! Give her your blessing for +me. + +STEPHEN: _(Hands Bella a coin.)_ Gold. She has it. + +BELLA: _(Looks at the money, then at Stephen, then at Zoe, Florry and +Kitty.)_ Do you want three girls? It’s ten shillings here. + +STEPHEN: _(Delightedly.)_ A hundred thousand apologies. _(He fumbles +again and takes out and hands her two crowns.)_ Permit, _brevi manu_, +my sight is somewhat troubled. + +_(Bella goes to the table to count the money while Stephen talks to +himself in monosyllables. Zoe bends over the table. Kitty leans over +Zoe’s neck. Lynch gets up, rights his cap and, clasping Kitty’s waist, +adds his head to the group.)_ + +FLORRY: _(Strives heavily to rise.)_ Ow! My foot’s asleep. _(She limps +over to the table. Bloom approaches.)_ + +BELLA, ZOE, KITTY, LYNCH, BLOOM: _(Chattering and squabbling.)_ The +gentleman... ten shillings... paying for the three... allow me a +moment... this gentleman pays separate... who’s touching it?... ow! ... +mind who you’re pinching... are you staying the night or a short +time?... who did?... you’re a liar, excuse me... the gentleman paid +down like a gentleman... drink... it’s long after eleven. + +STEPHEN: _(At the pianola, making a gesture of abhorrence.)_ No +bottles! What, eleven? A riddle! + +ZOE: _(Lifting up her pettigown and folding a half sovereign into the +top of her stocking.)_ Hard earned on the flat of my back. + +LYNCH: _(Lifting Kitty from the table.)_ Come! + +KITTY: Wait. _(She clutches the two crowns.)_ + +FLORRY: And me? + +LYNCH: Hoopla! + +_(He lifts her, carries her and bumps her down on the sofa.)_ + +STEPHEN: + + The fox crew, the cocks flew, + The bells in heaven + Were striking eleven. + ’Tis time for her poor soul + To get out of heaven. + +BLOOM: _(Quietly lays a half sovereign on the table between Bella and +Florry.)_ So. Allow me. _(He takes up the poundnote.)_ Three times ten. +We’re square. + +BELLA: _(Admiringly.)_ You’re such a slyboots, old cocky. I could kiss +you. + +ZOE: _(Points.)_ Him? Deep as a drawwell. _(Lynch bends Kitty back over +the sofa and kisses her. Bloom goes with the poundnote to Stephen.)_ + +BLOOM: This is yours. + +STEPHEN: How is that? _Le distrait_ or absentminded beggar. _(He +fumbles again in his pocket and draws out a handful of coins. An object +falls.)_ That fell. + +BLOOM: _(Stooping, picks up and hands a box of matches.)_ This. + +STEPHEN: Lucifer. Thanks. + +BLOOM: _(Quietly.)_ You had better hand over that cash to me to take +care of. Why pay more? + +STEPHEN: _(Hands him all his coins.)_ Be just before you are generous. + +BLOOM: I will but is it wise? _(He counts.)_ One, seven, eleven, and +five. Six. Eleven. I don’t answer for what you may have lost. + +STEPHEN: Why striking eleven? Proparoxyton. Moment before the next +Lessing says. Thirsty fox. _(He laughs loudly.)_ Burying his +grandmother. Probably he killed her. + +BLOOM: That is one pound six and eleven. One pound seven, say. + +STEPHEN: Doesn’t matter a rambling damn. + +BLOOM: No, but... + +STEPHEN: _(Comes to the table.)_ Cigarette, please. _(Lynch tosses a +cigarette from the sofa to the table.)_ And so Georgina Johnson is dead +and married. _(A cigarette appears on the table. Stephen looks at it.)_ +Wonder. Parlour magic. Married. Hm. _(He strikes a match and proceeds +to light the cigarette with enigmatic melancholy.)_ + +LYNCH: _(Watching him.)_ You would have a better chance of lighting it +if you held the match nearer. + +STEPHEN: _(Brings the match near his eye.)_ Lynx eye. Must get glasses. +Broke them yesterday. Sixteen years ago. Distance. The eye sees all +flat. _(He draws the match away. It goes out.)_ Brain thinks. Near: +far. Ineluctable modality of the visible. _(He frowns mysteriously.)_ +Hm. Sphinx. The beast that has two backs at midnight. Married. + +ZOE: It was a commercial traveller married her and took her away with +him. + +FLORRY: _(Nods.)_ Mr Lambe from London. + +STEPHEN: Lamb of London, who takest away the sins of our world. + +LYNCH: _(Embracing Kitty on the sofa, chants deeply.) Dona nobis +pacem._ + +_(The cigarette slips from Stephen’s fingers. Bloom picks it up and +throws it in the grate.)_ + +BLOOM: Don’t smoke. You ought to eat. Cursed dog I met. _(To Zoe.)_ You +have nothing? + +ZOE: Is he hungry? + +STEPHEN: _(Extends his hand to her smiling and chants to the air of the +bloodoath in the_ Dusk of the Gods.) + + Hangende Hunger, + Fragende Frau, + Macht uns alle kaputt. + +ZOE: _(Tragically.)_ Hamlet, I am thy father’s gimlet! _(She takes his +hand.)_ Blue eyes beauty I’ll read your hand. _(She points to his +forehead.)_ No wit, no wrinkles. _(She counts.)_ Two, three, Mars, +that’s courage. _(Stephen shakes his head.)_ No kid. + +LYNCH: Sheet lightning courage. The youth who could not shiver and +shake. _(To Zoe.)_ Who taught you palmistry? + +ZOE: _(Turns.)_ Ask my ballocks that I haven’t got. _(To Stephen.)_ I +see it in your face. The eye, like that. _(She frowns with lowered +head.)_ + +LYNCH: _(Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.)_ Like that. Pandybat. + +_(Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the coffin of the pianola flies open, +the bald little round jack-in-the-box head of Father Dolan springs +up.)_ + +FATHER DOLAN: Any boy want flogging? Broke his glasses? Lazy idle +little schemer. See it in your eye. + +_(Mild, benign, rectorial, reproving, the head of Don John Conmee rises +from the pianola coffin.)_ + +DON JOHN CONMEE: Now, Father Dolan! Now. I’m sure that Stephen is a +very good little boy! + +ZOE: _(Examining Stephen’s palm.)_ Woman’s hand. + +STEPHEN: _(Murmurs.)_ Continue. Lie. Hold me. Caress. I never could +read His handwriting except His criminal thumbprint on the haddock. + +ZOE: What day were you born? + +STEPHEN: Thursday. Today. + +ZOE: Thursday’s child has far to go. _(She traces lines on his hand.)_ +Line of fate. Influential friends. + +FLORRY: _(Pointing.)_ Imagination. + +ZOE: Mount of the moon. You’ll meet with a... _(She peers at his hands +abruptly.)_ I won’t tell you what’s not good for you. Or do you want to +know? + +BLOOM: _(Detaches her fingers and offers his palm.)_ More harm than +good. Here. Read mine. + +BELLA: Show. _(She turns up Bloom’s hand.)_ I thought so. Knobby +knuckles for the women. + +ZOE: _(Peering at Bloom’s palm.)_ Gridiron. Travels beyond the sea and +marry money. + +BLOOM: Wrong. + +ZOE: _(Quickly.)_ O, I see. Short little finger. Henpecked husband. +That wrong? + +_(Black Liz, a huge rooster hatching in a chalked circle, rises, +stretches her wings and clucks.)_ + +BLACK LIZ: Gara. Klook. Klook. Klook. + +_(She sidles from her newlaid egg and waddles off.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Points to his hand.)_ That weal there is an accident. Fell and +cut it twentytwo years ago. I was sixteen. + +ZOE: I see, says the blind man. Tell us news. + +STEPHEN: See? Moves to one great goal. I am twentytwo. Sixteen years +ago he was twentytwo too. Sixteen years ago I twentytwo tumbled. +Twentytwo years ago he sixteen fell off his hobbyhorse. _(He winces.)_ +Hurt my hand somewhere. Must see a dentist. Money? + +_(Zoe whispers to Florry. They giggle. Bloom releases his hand and +writes idly on the table in backhand, pencilling slow curves.)_ + +FLORRY: What? + +_(A hackneycar, number three hundred and twentyfour, with a +gallantbuttocked mare, driven by James Barton, Harmony Avenue, +Donnybrook, trots past. Blazes Boylan and Lenehan sprawl swaying on the +sideseats. The Ormond boots crouches behind on the axle. Sadly over the +crossblind Lydia Douce and Mina Kennedy gaze.)_ + +THE BOOTS: _(Jogging, mocks them with thumb and wriggling +wormfingers.)_ Haw haw have you the horn? + +_(Bronze by gold they whisper.)_ + +ZOE: _(To Florry.)_ Whisper. + +_(They whisper again.)_ + +_(Over the well of the car Blazes Boylan leans, his boater straw set +sideways, a red flower in his mouth. Lenehan in yachtsman’s cap and +white shoes officiously detaches a long hair from Blazes Boylan’s coat +shoulder.)_ + +LENEHAN: Ho! What do I here behold? Were you brushing the cobwebs off a +few quims? + +BOYLAN: _(Sated, smiles.)_ Plucking a turkey. + +LENEHAN: A good night’s work. + +BOYLAN: _(Holding up four thick bluntungulated fingers, winks.)_ Blazes +Kate! Up to sample or your money back. _(He holds out a forefinger.)_ +Smell that. + +LENEHAN: _(Smells gleefully.)_ Ah! Lobster and mayonnaise. Ah! + +ZOE AND FLORRY: _(Laugh together.)_ Ha ha ha ha. + +BOYLAN: _(Jumps surely from the car and calls loudly for all to hear.)_ +Hello, Bloom! Mrs Bloom dressed yet? + +BLOOM: _(In flunkey’s prune plush coat and kneebreeches, buff stockings +and powdered wig.)_ I’m afraid not, sir. The last articles... + +BOYLAN: _(Tosses him sixpence.)_ Here, to buy yourself a gin and +splash. _(He hangs his hat smartly on a peg of Bloom’s antlered head.)_ +Show me in. I have a little private business with your wife, you +understand? + +BLOOM: Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. Madam Tweedy is in her bath, sir. + +MARION: He ought to feel himself highly honoured. _(She plops splashing +out of the water.)_ Raoul darling, come and dry me. I’m in my pelt. +Only my new hat and a carriage sponge. + +BOYLAN: _(A merry twinkle in his eye.)_ Topping! + +BELLA: What? What is it? + +_(Zoe whispers to her.)_ + +MARION: Let him look, the pishogue! Pimp! And scourge himself! I’ll +write to a powerful prostitute or Bartholomona, the bearded woman, to +raise weals out on him an inch thick and make him bring me back a +signed and stamped receipt. + +BOYLAN: (Clasps himself.) Here, I can’t hold this little lot much +longer. (He strides off on stiff cavalry legs.) + +BELLA: _(Laughing.)_ Ho ho ho ho. + +BOYLAN: _(To Bloom, over his shoulder.)_ You can apply your eye to the +keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few times. + +BLOOM: Thank you, sir. I will, sir. May I bring two men chums to +witness the deed and take a snapshot? _(He holds out an ointment jar.)_ +Vaseline, sir? Orangeflower...? Lukewarm water...? + +KITTY: _(From the sofa.)_ Tell us, Florry. Tell us. What... + +_(Florry whispers to her. Whispering lovewords murmur, liplapping +loudly, poppysmic plopslop.)_ + +MINA KENNEDY: _(Her eyes upturned.)_ O, it must be like the scent of +geraniums and lovely peaches! O, he simply idolises every bit of her! +Stuck together! Covered with kisses! + +LYDIA DOUCE: _(Her mouth opening.)_ Yumyum. O, he’s carrying her round +the room doing it! Ride a cockhorse. You could hear them in Paris and +New York. Like mouthfuls of strawberries and cream. + +KITTY: _(Laughing.)_ Hee hee hee. + +BOYLAN’S VOICE: _(Sweetly, hoarsely, in the pit of his stomach.)_ Ah! +Godblazeqrukbrukarchkrasht! + +MARION’S VOICE: _(Hoarsely, sweetly, rising to her throat.)_ O! +Weeshwashtkissinapooisthnapoohuck? + +BLOOM: _(His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself.)_ Show! Hide! Show! +Plough her! More! Shoot! + +BELLA, ZOE, FLORRY, KITTY: Ho ho! Ha ha! Hee hee! + +LYNCH: _(Points.)_ The mirror up to nature. _(He laughs.)_ Hu hu hu hu +hu! + +_(Stephen and Bloom gaze in the mirror. The face of William +Shakespeare, beardless, appears there, rigid in facial paralysis, +crowned by the reflection of the reindeer antlered hatrack in the +hall.)_ + +SHAKESPEARE: _(In dignified ventriloquy.)_ ’Tis the loud laugh bespeaks +the vacant mind. _(To Bloom.)_ Thou thoughtest as how thou wastest +invisible. Gaze. _(He crows with a black capon’s laugh.)_ Iagogo! How +my Oldfellow chokit his Thursdaymornun. Iagogogo! + +BLOOM: _(Smiles yellowly at the three whores.)_ When will I hear the +joke? + +ZOE: Before you’re twice married and once a widower. + +BLOOM: Lapses are condoned. Even the great Napoleon when measurements +were taken next the skin after his death... + +_(Mrs Dignam, widow woman, her snubnose and cheeks flushed with +deathtalk, tears and Tunney’s tawny sherry, hurries by in her weeds, +her bonnet awry, rouging and powdering her cheeks, lips and nose, a pen +chivvying her brood of cygnets. Beneath her skirt appear her late +husband’s everyday trousers and turnedup boots, large eights. She holds +a Scottish widow’s insurance policy and a large marquee umbrella under +which her brood run with her, Patsy hopping on one shod foot, his +collar loose, a hank of porksteaks dangling, Freddy whimpering, Susy +with a crying cod’s mouth, Alice struggling with the baby. She cuffs +them on, her streamers flaunting aloft.)_ + +FREDDY: Ah, ma, you’re dragging me along! + +SUSY: Mamma, the beeftea is fizzing over! + +SHAKESPEARE: _(With paralytic rage.)_ Weda seca whokilla farst. + +_(The face of Martin Cunningham, bearded, refeatures Shakespeare’s +beardless face. The marquee umbrella sways drunkenly, the children run +aside. Under the umbrella appears Mrs Cunningham in Merry Widow hat and +kimono gown. She glides sidling and bowing, twirling japanesily.)_ + +MRS CUNNINGHAM: _(Sings.)_ + + And they call me the jewel of Asia! + + +MARTIN CUNNINGHAM: _(Gazes on her, impassive.)_ Immense! Most bloody +awful demirep! + +STEPHEN: _Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti._ Queens lay with prize bulls. +Remember Pasiphae for whose lust my grandoldgrossfather made the first +confessionbox. Forget not Madam Grissel Steevens nor the suine scions +of the house of Lambert. And Noah was drunk with wine. And his ark was +open. + +BELLA: None of that here. Come to the wrong shop. + +LYNCH: Let him alone. He’s back from Paris. + +ZOE: _(Runs to stephen and links him.)_ O go on! Give us some +parleyvoo. + +_(Stephen claps hat on head and leaps over to the fireplace where he +stands with shrugged shoulders, finny hands outspread, a painted smile +on his face.)_ + +LYNCH: _(Pommelling on the sofa.)_ Rmm Rmm Rmm Rrrrrrmmmmm. + +STEPHEN: _(Gabbles with marionette jerks.)_ Thousand places of +entertainment to expense your evenings with lovely ladies saling gloves +and other things perhaps hers heart beerchops perfect fashionable house +very eccentric where lots cocottes beautiful dressed much about +princesses like are dancing cancan and walking there parisian +clowneries extra foolish for bachelors foreigns the same if talking a +poor english how much smart they are on things love and sensations +voluptuous. Misters very selects for is pleasure must to visit heaven +and hell show with mortuary candles and they tears silver which occur +every night. Perfectly shocking terrific of religion’s things mockery +seen in universal world. All chic womans which arrive full of modesty +then disrobe and squeal loud to see vampire man debauch nun very fresh +young with _dessous troublants_. _(He clacks his tongue loudly.)_ _Ho, +là là! Ce pif qu’il a!_ + +LYNCH: _Vive le vampire!_ + +THE WHORES: Bravo! Parleyvoo! + +STEPHEN: _(Grimacing with head back, laughs loudly, clapping himself.)_ +Great success of laughing. Angels much prostitutes like and holy +apostles big damn ruffians. _Demimondaines_ nicely handsome sparkling +of diamonds very amiable costumed. Or do you are fond better what +belongs they moderns pleasure turpitude of old mans? _(He points about +him with grotesque gestures which Lynch and the whores reply to.)_ +Caoutchouc statue woman reversible or lifesize tompeeptom of virgins +nudities very lesbic the kiss five ten times. Enter, gentleman, to see +in mirror every positions trapezes all that machine there besides also +if desire act awfully bestial butcher’s boy pollutes in warm veal liver +or omlet on the belly _pièce de Shakespeare._ + +BELLA: _(Clapping her belly sinks back on the sofa, with a shout of +laughter.)_ An omelette on the... Ho! ho! ho! ho!... omelette on the... + +STEPHEN: _(Mincingly.)_ I love you, sir darling. Speak you englishman +tongue for _double entente cordiale._ O yes, _mon loup_. How much cost? +Waterloo. Watercloset. _(He ceases suddenly and holds up a +forefinger.)_ + +BELLA: _(Laughing.)_ Omelette... + +THE WHORES: _(Laughing.)_ Encore! Encore! + +STEPHEN: Mark me. I dreamt of a watermelon. + +ZOE: Go abroad and love a foreign lady. + +LYNCH: Across the world for a wife. + +FLORRY: Dreams goes by contraries. + +STEPHEN: _(Extends his arms.)_ It was here. Street of harlots. In +Serpentine avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow. Where’s the +red carpet spread? + +BLOOM: _(Approaching Stephen.)_ Look... + +STEPHEN: No, I flew. My foes beneath me. And ever shall be. World +without end. _(He cries.) Pater!_ Free! + +BLOOM: I say, look... + +STEPHEN: Break my spirit, will he? _O merde alors! (He cries, his +vulture talons sharpened.)_ Hola! Hillyho! + +_(Simon Dedalus’ voice hilloes in answer, somewhat sleepy but ready.)_ + +SIMON: That’s all right. _(He swoops uncertainly through the air, +wheeling, uttering cries of heartening, on strong ponderous buzzard +wings.)_ Ho, boy! Are you going to win? Hoop! Pschatt! Stable with +those halfcastes. Wouldn’t let them within the bawl of an ass. Head up! +Keep our flag flying! An eagle gules volant in a field argent +displayed. Ulster king at arms! Haihoop! _(He makes the beagle’s call, +giving tongue.)_ Bulbul! Burblblburblbl! Hai, boy! + +_(The fronds and spaces of the wallpaper file rapidly across country. A +stout fox, drawn from covert, brush pointed, having buried his +grandmother, runs swift for the open, brighteyed, seeking badger earth, +under the leaves. The pack of staghounds follows, nose to the ground, +sniffing their quarry, beaglebaying, burblbrbling to be blooded. Ward +Union huntsmen and huntswomen live with them, hot for a kill. From Six +Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone follow the footpeople with +knotty sticks, hayforks, salmongaffs, lassos, flockmasters with +stockwhips, bearbaiters with tomtoms, toreadors with bullswords, grey +negroes waving torches. The crowd bawls of dicers, crown and anchor +players, thimbleriggers, broadsmen. Crows and touts, hoarse bookies in +high wizard hats clamour deafeningly.)_ + +THE CROWD: + + Card of the races. Racing card! + Ten to one the field! + Tommy on the clay here! Tommy on the clay! + Ten to one bar one! Ten to one bar one! + Try your luck on Spinning Jenny! + Ten to one bar one! + Sell the monkey, boys! Sell the monkey! + I’ll give ten to one! + Ten to one bar one! + +_(A dark horse, riderless, bolts like a phantom past the winningpost, +his mane moonfoaming, his eyeballs stars. The field follows, a bunch of +bucking mounts. Skeleton horses, Sceptre, Maximum the Second, +Zinfandel, the Duke of Westminster’s Shotover, Repulse, the Duke of +Beaufort’s Ceylon, prix de Paris. Dwarfs ride them, rustyarmoured, +leaping, leaping in their, in their saddles. Last in a drizzle of rain +on a brokenwinded isabelle nag, Cock of the North, the favourite, honey +cap, green jacket, orange sleeves, Garrett Deasy up, gripping the +reins, a hockeystick at the ready. His nag on spavined whitegaitered +feet jogs along the rocky road.)_ + +THE ORANGE LODGES: _(Jeering.)_ Get down and push, mister. Last lap! +You’ll be home the night! + +GARRETT DEASY: _(Bolt upright, his nailscraped face plastered with +postagestamps, brandishes his hockeystick, his blue eyes flashing in +the prism of the chandelier as his mount lopes by at schooling +gallop.)_ + +_Per vias rectas!_ + +_(A yoke of buckets leopards all over him and his rearing nag a torrent +of mutton broth with dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, +potatoes.)_ + +THE GREEN LODGES: Soft day, sir John! Soft day, your honour! + +_(Private Carr, Private Compton and Cissy Caffrey pass beneath the +windows, singing in discord.)_ + +STEPHEN: Hark! Our friend noise in the street. + +ZOE: _(Holds up her hand.)_ Stop! + +PRIVATE CARR, PRIVATE COMPTON AND CISSY CAFFREY: + + Yet I’ve a sort of a + Yorkshire relish for... + +ZOE: That’s me. _(She claps her hands.)_ Dance! Dance! _(She runs to +the pianola.)_ Who has twopence? + +BLOOM: Who’ll...? + +LYNCH: _(Handing her coins.)_ Here. + +STEPHEN: _(Cracking his fingers impatiently.)_ Quick! Quick! Where’s my +augur’s rod? _(He runs to the piano and takes his ashplant, beating his +foot in tripudium.)_ + +ZOE: _(Turns the drumhandle.)_ There. + +_(She drops two pennies in the slot. Gold, pink and violet lights start +forth. The drum turns purring in low hesitation waltz. Professor +Goodwin, in a bowknotted periwig, in court dress, wearing a stained +inverness cape, bent in two from incredible age, totters across the +room, his hands fluttering. He sits tinily on the pianostool and lifts +and beats handless sticks of arms on the keyboard, nodding with +damsel’s grace, his bowknot bobbing.)_ + +ZOE: _(Twirls round herself, heeltapping.)_ Dance. Anybody here for +there? Who’ll dance? Clear the table. + +_(The pianola with changing lights plays in waltz time the prelude of_ +My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl. _Stephen throws his ashplant on the table +and seizes Zoe round the waist. Florry and Bella push the table towards +the fireplace. Stephen, arming Zoe with exaggerated grace, begins to +waltz her round the room. Bloom stands aside. Her sleeve falling from +gracing arms, reveals a white fleshflower of vaccination. Between the +curtains Professor Maginni inserts a leg on the toepoint of which spins +a silk hat. With a deft kick he sends it spinning to his crown and +jauntyhatted skates in. He wears a slate frockcoat with claret silk +lapels, a gorget of cream tulle, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar +with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers, patent pumps and canary +gloves. In his buttonhole is an immense dahlia. He twirls in reversed +directions a clouded cane, then wedges it tight in his oxter. He places +a hand lightly on his breastbone, bows, and fondles his flower and +buttons.)_ + +MAGINNI: The poetry of motion, art of calisthenics. No connection with +Madam Legget Byrne’s or Levenston’s. Fancy dress balls arranged. +Deportment. The Katty Lanner step. So. Watch me! My terpsichorean +abilities. _(He minuets forward three paces on tripping bee’s feet.) +Tout le monde en avant! Révérence! Tout le monde en place!_ + +_(The prelude ceases. Professor Goodwin, beating vague arms shrivels, +sinks, his live cape falling about the stool. The air in firmer waltz +time sounds. Stephen and Zoe circle freely. The lights change, glow, +fade gold rosy violet.)_ + +THE PIANOLA: + + Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls, + Sweethearts they’d left behind... + +_(From a corner the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, +in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with innocent hands. Nimbly they dance, +twirling their skipping ropes. The hours of noon follow in amber gold. +Laughing, linked, high haircombs flashing, they catch the sun in +mocking mirrors, lifting their arms.)_ + +MAGINNI: _(Clipclaps glovesilent hands.) Carré! Avant deux!_ Breathe +evenly! _Balance!_ + +_(The morning and noon hours waltz in their places, turning, advancing +to each other, shaping their curves, bowing visavis. Cavaliers behind +them arch and suspend their arms, with hands descending to, touching, +rising from their shoulders.)_ + +HOURS: You may touch my. + +CAVALIERS: May I touch your? + +HOURS: O, but lightly! + +CAVALIERS: O, so lightly! + +THE PIANOLA: + + My little shy little lass has a waist. + +_(Zoe and Stephen turn boldly with looser swing. The twilight hours +advance from long landshadows, dispersed, lagging, languideyed, their +cheeks delicate with cipria and false faint bloom. They are in grey +gauze with dark bat sleeves that flutter in the land breeze.)_ + +MAGINNI: _Avant huit! Traversé! Salut! Cours de mains! Croisé!_ + +_(The night hours, one by one, steal to the last place. Morning, noon +and twilight hours retreat before them. They are masked, with daggered +hair and bracelets of dull bells. Weary they curchycurchy under +veils.)_ + +THE BRACELETS: Heigho! Heigho! + +ZOE: _(Twirling, her hand to her brow.)_ O! + +MAGINNI: _Les tiroirs! Chaîne de dames! La corbeille! Dos à dos!_ + +_(Arabesquing wearily they weave a pattern on the floor, weaving, +unweaving, curtseying, twirling, simply swirling.)_ + +ZOE: I’m giddy! + +_(She frees herself, droops on a chair. Stephen seizes Florry and turns +with her.)_ + +MAGINNI: _Boulangère! Les ronds! Les ponts! Chevaux de bois! +Escargots!_ + +_(Twining, receding, with interchanging hands the night hours link each +each with arching arms in a mosaic of movements. Stephen and Florry +turn cumbrously.)_ + +MAGINNI: _Dansez avec vos dames! Changez de dames! Donnez le petit +bouquet à votre dame! Remerciez!_ + +THE PIANOLA: + + Best, best of all, + Baraabum! + +KITTY: _(Jumps up.)_ O, they played that on the hobbyhorses at the +_Mirus_ bazaar! + +_(She runs to Stephen. He leaves Florry brusquely and seizes Kitty. A +screaming bittern’s harsh high whistle shrieks. Groangrousegurgling +Toft’s cumbersome whirligig turns slowly the room right roundabout the +room.)_ + +THE PIANOLA: + + My girl’s a Yorkshire girl. + +ZOE: + +Yorkshire through and through. Come on all! + +_(She seizes Florry and waltzes her.)_ + +STEPHEN: _Pas seul!_ + +_(He wheels Kitty into Lynch’s arms, snatches up his ashplant from the +table and takes the floor. All wheel whirl waltz twirl. Bloombella +Kittylynch Florryzoe jujuby women. Stephen with hat ashplant frogsplits +in middle highkicks with skykicking mouth shut hand clasp part under +thigh. With clang tinkle boomhammer tallyho hornblower blue green +yellow flashes Toft’s cumbersome turns with hobbyhorse riders from +gilded snakes dangled, bowels fandango leaping spurn soil foot and fall +again.)_ + +THE PIANOLA: + + Though she’s a factory lass + And wears no fancy clothes. + +_(Closeclutched swift swifter with glareblareflare scudding they +scootlootshoot lumbering by. Baraabum!)_ + +TUTTI: Encore! Bis! Bravo! Encore! + +SIMON: Think of your mother’s people! + +STEPHEN: Dance of death. + +_(Bang fresh barang bang of lacquey’s bell, horse, nag, steer, +piglings, Conmee on Christass, lame crutch and leg sailor in cockboat +armfolded ropepulling hitching stamp hornpipe through and through. +Baraabum! On nags hogs bellhorses Gadarene swine Corny in coffin steel +shark stone onehandled Nelson two trickies Frauenzimmer plumstained +from pram falling bawling. Gum he’s a champion. Fuseblue peer from +barrel rev. evensong Love on hackney jaunt Blazes blind coddoubled +bicyclers Dilly with snowcake no fancy clothes. Then in last switchback +lumbering up and down bump mashtub sort of viceroy and reine relish for +tublumber bumpshire rose. Baraabum!)_ + +_(The couples fall aside. Stephen whirls giddily. Room whirls back. +Eyes closed he totters. Red rails fly spacewards. Stars all around suns +turn roundabout. Bright midges dance on walls. He stops dead.)_ + +STEPHEN: Ho! + +_(Stephen’s mother, emaciated, rises stark through the floor, in leper +grey with a wreath of faded orangeblossoms and a torn bridal veil, her +face worn and noseless, green with gravemould. Her hair is scant and +lank. She fixes her bluecircled hollow eyesockets on Stephen and opens +her toothless mouth uttering a silent word. A choir of virgins and +confessors sing voicelessly.)_ + +THE CHOIR: + + Liliata rutilantium te confessorum... + Iubilantium te virginum... + +_(From the top of a tower Buck Mulligan, in particoloured jester’s +dress of puce and yellow and clown’s cap with curling bell, stands +gaping at her, a smoking buttered split scone in his hand.)_ + +BUCK MULLIGAN: She’s beastly dead. The pity of it! Mulligan meets the +afflicted mother. _(He upturns his eyes.)_ Mercurial Malachi! + +THE MOTHER: _(With the subtle smile of death’s madness.)_ I was once +the beautiful May Goulding. I am dead. + +STEPHEN: _(Horrorstruck.)_ Lemur, who are you? No. What bogeyman’s +trick is this? + +BUCK MULLIGAN: _(Shakes his curling capbell.)_ The mockery of it! Kinch +dogsbody killed her bitchbody. She kicked the bucket. _(Tears of molten +butter fall from his eyes on to the scone.)_ Our great sweet mother! +_Epi oinopa ponton._ + +THE MOTHER: _(Comes nearer, breathing upon him softly her breath of +wetted ashes.)_ All must go through it, Stephen. More women than men in +the world. You too. Time will come. + +STEPHEN: _(Choking with fright, remorse and horror.)_ They say I killed +you, mother. He offended your memory. Cancer did it, not I. Destiny. + +THE MOTHER: _(A green rill of bile trickling from a side of her +mouth.)_ You sang that song to me. _Love’s bitter mystery._ + +STEPHEN: _(Eagerly.)_ Tell me the word, mother, if you know now. The +word known to all men. + +THE MOTHER: Who saved you the night you jumped into the train at Dalkey +with Paddy Lee? Who had pity for you when you were sad among the +strangers? Prayer is allpowerful. Prayer for the suffering souls in the +Ursuline manual and forty days’ indulgence. Repent, Stephen. + +STEPHEN: The ghoul! Hyena! + +THE MOTHER: I pray for you in my other world. Get Dilly to make you +that boiled rice every night after your brainwork. Years and years I +loved you, O, my son, my firstborn, when you lay in my womb. + +ZOE: _(Fanning herself with the grate fan.)_ I’m melting! + +FLORRY: _(Points to Stephen.)_ Look! He’s white. + +BLOOM: _(Goes to the window to open it more.)_ Giddy. + +THE MOTHER: _(With smouldering eyes.)_ Repent! O, the fire of hell! + +STEPHEN: _(Panting.)_ His noncorrosive sublimate! The corpsechewer! Raw +head and bloody bones. + +THE MOTHER: _(Her face drawing near and nearer, sending out an ashen +breath.)_ Beware! _(She raises her blackened withered right arm slowly +towards Stephen’s breast with outstretched finger.)_ Beware God’s hand! +_(A green crab with malignant red eyes sticks deep its grinning claws +in Stephen’s heart.)_ + +STEPHEN: _(Strangled with rage.)_ Shite! _(His features grow drawn and +grey and old.)_ + +BLOOM: _(At the window.)_ What? + +STEPHEN: _Ah non, par exemple!_ The intellectual imagination! With me +all or not at all. _Non serviam!_ + +FLORRY: Give him some cold water. Wait. _(She rushes out.)_ + +THE MOTHER: _(Wrings her hands slowly, moaning desperately.)_ O Sacred +Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him! Save him from hell, O Divine Sacred +Heart! + +STEPHEN: No! No! No! Break my spirit, all of you, if you can! I’ll +bring you all to heel! + +THE MOTHER: _(In the agony of her deathrattle.)_ Have mercy on Stephen, +Lord, for my sake! Inexpressible was my anguish when expiring with +love, grief and agony on Mount Calvary. + +STEPHEN: _Nothung!_ + +_(He lifts his ashplant high with both hands and smashes the +chandelier. Time’s livid final flame leaps and, in the following +darkness, ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry.)_ + +THE GASJET: Pwfungg! + +BLOOM: Stop! + +LYNCH: _(Rushes forward and seizes Stephen’s hand.)_ Here! Hold on! +Don’t run amok! + +BELLA: Police! + +_(Stephen, abandoning his ashplant, his head and arms thrown back +stark, beats the ground and flies from the room, past the whores at the +door.)_ + +BELLA: _(Screams.)_ After him! + +_(The two whores rush to the halldoor. Lynch and Kitty and Zoe stampede +from the room. They talk excitedly. Bloom follows, returns.)_ + +THE WHORES: _(Jammed in the doorway, pointing.)_ Down there. + +ZOE: _(Pointing.)_ There. There’s something up. + +BELLA: Who pays for the lamp? _(She seizes Bloom’s coattail.)_ Here, +you were with him. The lamp’s broken. + +BLOOM: _(Rushes to the hall, rushes back.)_ What lamp, woman? + +A WHORE: He tore his coat. + +BELLA: _(Her eyes hard with anger and cupidity, points.)_ Who’s to pay +for that? Ten shillings. You’re a witness. + +BLOOM: _(Snatches up Stephen’s ashplant.)_ Me? Ten shillings? Haven’t +you lifted enough off him? Didn’t he...? + +BELLA: _(Loudly.)_ Here, none of your tall talk. This isn’t a brothel. +A ten shilling house. + +BLOOM: _(His head under the lamp, pulls the chain. Pulling, the gasjet +lights up a crushed mauve purple shade. He raises the ashplant.)_ Only +the chimney’s broken. Here is all he... + +BELLA: _(Shrinks back and screams.)_ Jesus! Don’t! + +BLOOM: _(Warding off a blow.)_ To show you how he hit the paper. +There’s not sixpenceworth of damage done. Ten shillings! + +FLORRY: _(With a glass of water, enters.)_ Where is he? + +BELLA: Do you want me to call the police? + +BLOOM: O, I know. Bulldog on the premises. But he’s a Trinity student. +Patrons of your establishment. Gentlemen that pay the rent. _(He makes +a masonic sign.)_ Know what I mean? Nephew of the vicechancellor. You +don’t want a scandal. + +BELLA: _(Angrily.)_ Trinity. Coming down here ragging after the +boatraces and paying nothing. Are you my commander here or? Where is +he? I’ll charge him! Disgrace him, I will! _(She shouts.)_ Zoe! Zoe! + +BLOOM: _(Urgently.)_ And if it were your own son in Oxford? +_(Warningly.)_ I know. + +BELLA: _(Almost speechless.)_ Who are. Incog! + +ZOE: _(In the doorway.)_ There’s a row on. + +BLOOM: What? Where? _(He throws a shilling on the table and starts.)_ +That’s for the chimney. Where? I need mountain air. + +_(He hurries out through the hall. The whores point. Florry follows, +spilling water from her tilted tumbler. On the doorstep all the whores +clustered talk volubly, pointing to the right where the fog has cleared +off. From the left arrives a jingling hackney car. It slows to in front +of the house. Bloom at the halldoor perceives Corny Kelleher who is +about to dismount from the car with two silent lechers. He averts his +face. Bella from within the hall urges on her whores. They blow +ickylickysticky yumyum kisses. Corny Kelleher replies with a ghastly +lewd smile. The silent lechers turn to pay the jarvey. Zoe and Kitty +still point right. Bloom, parting them swiftly, draws his caliph’s hood +and poncho and hurries down the steps with sideways face. Incog Haroun +al Raschid he flits behind the silent lechers and hastens on by the +railings with fleet step of a pard strewing the drag behind him, torn +envelopes drenched in aniseed. The ashplant marks his stride. A pack of +bloodhounds, led by Hornblower of Trinity brandishing a dogwhip in +tallyho cap and an old pair of grey trousers, follows from far, picking +up the scent, nearer, baying, panting, at fault, breaking away, +throwing their tongues, biting his heels, leaping at his tail. He +walks, runs, zigzags, gallops, lugs laid back. He is pelted with +gravel, cabbagestumps, biscuitboxes, eggs, potatoes, dead codfish, +woman’s slipperslappers. After him freshfound the hue and cry zigzag +gallops in hot pursuit of follow my leader: 65 C, 66 C, night watch, +John Henry Menton, Wisdom Hely, V. B. Dillon, Councillor Nannetti, +Alexander Keyes, Larry O’Rourke, Joe Cuffe, Mrs O’Dowd, Pisser Burke, +The Nameless One, Mrs Riordan, The Citizen, Garryowen, Whodoyoucallhim, +Strangeface, Fellowthatsolike, Sawhimbefore, Chapwithawen, Chris +Callinan, sir Charles Cameron, Benjamin Dollard, Lenehan, Bartell +d’Arcy, Joe Hynes, red Murray, editor Brayden, T. M. Healy, Mr Justice +Fitzgibbon, John Howard Parnell, the reverend Tinned Salmon, Professor +Joly, Mrs Breen, Denis Breen, Theodore Purefoy, Mina Purefoy, the +Westland Row postmistress, C. P. M’Coy, friend of Lyons, Hoppy Holohan, +maninthestreet, othermaninthestreet, Footballboots, pugnosed driver, +rich protestant lady, Davy Byrne, Mrs Ellen M’Guinness, Mrs Joe +Gallaher, George Lidwell, Jimmy Henry on corns, Superintendent Laracy, +Father Cowley, Crofton out of the Collector-general’s, Dan Dawson, +dental surgeon Bloom with tweezers, Mrs Bob Doran, Mrs Kennefick, Mrs +Wyse Nolan, John Wyse Nolan, +handsomemarriedwomanrubbedagainstwidebehindinClonskea tram, the +bookseller of_ Sweets of Sin, _Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad, Mesdames +Gerald and Stanislaus Moran of Roebuck, the managing clerk of +Drimmie’s, Wetherup, colonel Hayes, Mastiansky, Citron, Penrose, Aaron +Figatner, Moses Herzog, Michael E Geraghty, Inspector Troy, Mrs +Galbraith, the constable off Eccles street corner, old doctor Brady +with stethoscope, the mystery man on the beach, a retriever, Mrs Miriam +Dandrade and all her lovers.)_ + +THE HUE AND CRY: _(Helterskelterpelterwelter.)_ He’s Bloom! Stop Bloom! +Stopabloom! Stopperrobber! Hi! Hi! Stophim on the corner! + +_(At the corner of Beaver street beneath the scaffolding Bloom panting +stops on the fringe of the noisy quarrelling knot, a lot not knowing a +jot what hi! hi! row and wrangle round the whowhat brawlaltogether.)_ + +STEPHEN: _(With elaborate gestures, breathing deeply and slowly.)_ You +are my guests. Uninvited. By virtue of the fifth of George and seventh +of Edward. History to blame. Fabled by mothers of memory. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(To Cissy Caffrey.)_ Was he insulting you? + +STEPHEN: Addressed her in vocative feminine. Probably neuter. +Ungenitive. + +VOICES: No, he didn’t. I seen him. The girl there. He was in Mrs +Cohen’s. What’s up? Soldier and civilian. + +CISSY CAFFREY: I was in company with the soldiers and they left me to +do—you know, and the young man run up behind me. But I’m faithful to +the man that’s treating me though I’m only a shilling whore. + +STEPHEN: _(Catches sight of Lynch’s and Kitty’s heads.)_ Hail, +Sisyphus. _(He points to himself and the others.)_ Poetic. Uropoetic. + +VOICES: Shes faithfultheman. + +CISSY CAFFREY: Yes, to go with him. And me with a soldier friend. + +PRIVATE COMPTON: He doesn’t half want a thick ear, the blighter. Biff +him one, Harry. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(To Cissy.)_ Was he insulting you while me and him was +having a piss? + +LORD TENNYSON: _(Gentleman poet in Union Jack blazer and cricket +flannels, bareheaded, flowingbearded.)_ Theirs not to reason why. + +PRIVATE COMPTON: Biff him, Harry. + +STEPHEN: _(To Private Compton.)_ I don’t know your name but you are +quite right. Doctor Swift says one man in armour will beat ten men in +their shirts. Shirt is synechdoche. Part for the whole. + +CISSY CAFFREY: _(To the crowd.)_ No, I was with the privates. + +STEPHEN: _(Amiably.)_ Why not? The bold soldier boy. In my opinion +every lady for example... + +PRIVATE CARR: _(His cap awry, advances to Stephen.)_ Say, how would it +be, governor, if I was to bash in your jaw? + +STEPHEN: _(Looks up to the sky.)_ How? Very unpleasant. Noble art of +selfpretence. Personally, I detest action. _(He waves his hand.)_ Hand +hurts me slightly. _Enfin ce sont vos oignons._ _(To Cissy Caffrey.)_ +Some trouble is on here. What is it precisely? + +DOLLY GRAY: _(From her balcony waves her handkerchief, giving the sign +of the heroine of Jericho.)_ Rahab. Cook’s son, goodbye. Safe home to +Dolly. Dream of the girl you left behind and she will dream of you. + +_(The soldiers turn their swimming eyes.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Elbowing through the crowd, plucks Stephen’s sleeve +vigorously.)_ Come now, professor, that carman is waiting. + +STEPHEN: _(Turns.)_ Eh? _(He disengages himself.)_ Why should I not +speak to him or to any human being who walks upright upon this oblate +orange? _(He points his finger.)_ I’m not afraid of what I can talk to +if I see his eye. Retaining the perpendicular. + +_(He staggers a pace back.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Propping him.)_ Retain your own. + +STEPHEN: _(Laughs emptily.)_ My centre of gravity is displaced. I have +forgotten the trick. Let us sit down somewhere and discuss. Struggle +for life is the law of existence but but human philirenists, notably +the tsar and the king of England, have invented arbitration. _(He taps +his brow.)_ But in here it is I must kill the priest and the king. + +BIDDY THE CLAP: Did you hear what the professor said? He’s a professor +out of the college. + +CUNTY KATE: I did. I heard that. + +BIDDY THE CLAP: He expresses himself with such marked refinement of +phraseology. + +CUNTY KATE: Indeed, yes. And at the same time with such apposite +trenchancy. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Pulls himself free and comes forward.)_ What’s that +you’re saying about my king? + +_(Edward the Seventh appears in an archway. He wears a white jersey on +which an image of the Sacred Heart is stitched with the insignia of +Garter and Thistle, Golden Fleece, Elephant of Denmark, Skinner’s and +Probyn’s horse, Lincoln’s Inn bencher and ancient and honourable +artillery company of Massachusetts. He sucks a red jujube. He is robed +as a grand elect perfect and sublime mason with trowel and apron, +marked_ made in Germany. _In his left hand he holds a plasterer’s +bucket on which is printed_ Défense d’uriner. _A roar of welcome greets +him.)_ + +EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Slowly, solemnly but indistinctly.)_ Peace, +perfect peace. For identification, bucket in my hand. Cheerio, boys. +_(He turns to his subjects.)_ We have come here to witness a clean +straight fight and we heartily wish both men the best of good luck. +Mahak makar a bak. + +_(He shakes hands with Private Carr, Private Compton, Stephen, Bloom +and Lynch. General applause. Edward the Seventh lifts his bucket +graciously in acknowledgment.)_ + +PRIVATE CARR: _(To Stephen.)_ Say it again. + +STEPHEN: _(Nervous, friendly, pulls himself up.)_ I understand your +point of view though I have no king myself for the moment. This is the +age of patent medicines. A discussion is difficult down here. But this +is the point. You die for your country. Suppose. _(He places his arm on +Private Carr’s sleeve.)_ Not that I wish it for you. But I say: Let my +country die for me. Up to the present it has done so. I didn’t want it +to die. Damn death. Long live life! + +EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Levitates over heaps of slain, in the garb and +with the halo of Joking Jesus, a white jujube in his phosphorescent +face.)_ + + My methods are new and are causing surprise. + To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes. + +STEPHEN: Kings and unicorns! _(He falls back a pace.)_ Come somewhere +and we’ll... What was that girl saying?... + +PRIVATE COMPTON: Eh, Harry, give him a kick in the knackers. Stick one +into Jerry. + +BLOOM: _(To the privates, softly.)_ He doesn’t know what he’s saying. +Taken a little more than is good for him. Absinthe. Greeneyed monster. +I know him. He’s a gentleman, a poet. It’s all right. + +STEPHEN: _(Nods, smiling and laughing.)_ Gentleman, patriot, scholar +and judge of impostors. + +PRIVATE CARR: I don’t give a bugger who he is. + +PRIVATE COMPTON: We don’t give a bugger who he is. + +STEPHEN: I seem to annoy them. Green rag to a bull. + +_(Kevin Egan of Paris in black Spanish tasselled shirt and peep-o’-day +boy’s hat signs to Stephen.)_ + +KEVIN EGAN: H’lo! _Bonjour!_ The _vieille ogresse_ with the _dents +jaunes_. + +_(Patrice Egan peeps from behind, his rabbitface nibbling a quince +leaf.)_ + +PATRICE: _Socialiste!_ + +DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: _(In medieval hauberk, +two wild geese volant on his helm, with noble indignation points a +mailed hand against the privates.)_ Werf those eykes to footboden, big +grand porcos of johnyellows todos covered of gravy! + +BLOOM: _(To Stephen.)_ Come home. You’ll get into trouble. + +STEPHEN: _(Swaying.)_ I don’t avoid it. He provokes my intelligence. + +BIDDY THE CLAP: One immediately observes that he is of patrician +lineage. + +THE VIRAGO: Green above the red, says he. Wolfe Tone. + +THE BAWD: The red’s as good as the green. And better. Up the soldiers! +Up King Edward! + +A ROUGH: _(Laughs.)_ Ay! Hands up to De Wet. + +THE CITIZEN: _(With a huge emerald muffler and shillelagh, calls.)_ + + May the God above + Send down a dove + With teeth as sharp as razors + To slit the throats + Of the English dogs + That hanged our Irish leaders. + +THE CROPPY BOY: _(The ropenoose round his neck, gripes in his issuing +bowels with both hands.)_ + + I bear no hate to a living thing, + But I love my country beyond the king. + +RUMBOLD, DEMON BARBER: _(Accompanied by two blackmasked assistants, +advances with gladstone bag which he opens.)_ Ladies and gents, cleaver +purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg. Knife with which Voisin +dismembered the wife of a compatriot and hid remains in a sheet in the +cellar, the unfortunate female’s throat being cut from ear to ear. +Phial containing arsenic retrieved from body of Miss Barron which sent +Seddon to the gallows. + +_(He jerks the rope. The assistants leap at the victim’s legs and drag +him downward, grunting: the croppy boy’s tongue protrudes violently.)_ + +THE CROPPY BOY: + + Horhot ho hray hor hother’s hest. + +_(He gives up the ghost. A violent erection of the hanged sends gouts +of sperm spouting through his deathclothes on to the cobblestones. Mrs +Bellingham, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys +rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)_ + +RUMBOLD: I’m near it myself. _(He undoes the noose.)_ Rope which hanged +the awful rebel. Ten shillings a time. As applied to Her Royal +Highness. _(He plunges his head into the gaping belly of the hanged and +draws out his head again clotted with coiled and smoking entrails.)_ My +painful duty has now been done. God save the king! + +EDWARD THE SEVENTH: _(Dances slowly, solemnly, rattling his bucket, and +sings with soft contentment.)_ + + On coronation day, on coronation day, + O, won’t we have a merry time, + Drinking whisky, beer and wine! + +PRIVATE CARR: Here. What are you saying about my king? + +STEPHEN: _(Throws up his hands.)_ O, this is too monotonous! Nothing. +He wants my money and my life, though want must be his master, for some +brutish empire of his. Money I haven’t. _(He searches his pockets +vaguely.)_ Gave it to someone. + +PRIVATE CARR: Who wants your bleeding money? + +STEPHEN: _(Tries to move off.)_ Will someone tell me where I am least +likely to meet these necessary evils? _Ça se voit aussi à Paris._ Not +that I... But, by Saint Patrick...! + +_(The women’s heads coalesce. Old Gummy Granny in sugarloaf hat appears +seated on a toadstool, the deathflower of the potato blight on her +breast.)_ + +STEPHEN: Aha! I know you, gammer! Hamlet, revenge! The old sow that +eats her farrow! + +OLD GUMMY GRANNY: _(Rocking to and fro.)_ Ireland’s sweetheart, the +king of Spain’s daughter, alanna. Strangers in my house, bad manners to +them! _(She keens with banshee woe.)_ Ochone! Ochone! Silk of the kine! +_(She wails.)_ You met with poor old Ireland and how does she stand? + +STEPHEN: How do I stand you? The hat trick! Where’s the third person of +the Blessed Trinity? Soggarth Aroon? The reverend Carrion Crow. + +CISSY CAFFREY: _(Shrill.)_ Stop them from fighting! + +A ROUGH: Our men retreated. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Tugging at his belt.)_ I’ll wring the neck of any +fucker says a word against my fucking king. + +BLOOM: _(Terrified.)_ He said nothing. Not a word. A pure +misunderstanding. + +THE CITIZEN: _Erin go bragh!_ + +_(Major Tweedy and the Citizen exhibit to each other medals, +decorations, trophies of war, wounds. Both salute with fierce +hostility.)_ + +PRIVATE COMPTON: Go it, Harry. Do him one in the eye. He’s a proboer. + +STEPHEN: Did I? When? + +BLOOM: _(To the redcoats.)_ We fought for you in South Africa, Irish +missile troops. Isn’t that history? Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Honoured by +our monarch. + +THE NAVVY: _(Staggering past.)_ O, yes! O God, yes! O, make the kwawr a +krowawr! O! Bo! + +_(Casqued halberdiers in armour thrust forward a pentice of gutted +spearpoints. Major Tweedy, moustached like Turko the terrible, in +bearskin cap with hackleplume and accoutrements, with epaulettes, gilt +chevrons and sabretaches, his breast bright with medals, toes the line. +He gives the pilgrim warrior’s sign of the knights templars.)_ + +MAJOR TWEEDY: _(Growls gruffly.)_ Rorke’s Drift! Up, guards, and at +them! Mahar shalal hashbaz. + +PRIVATE CARR: I’ll do him in. + +PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Waves the crowd back.)_ Fair play, here. Make a +bleeding butcher’s shop of the bugger. + +_(Massed bands blare_ Garryowen _and_ God save the King.) + +CISSY CAFFREY: They’re going to fight. For me! + +CUNTY KATE: The brave and the fair. + +BIDDY THE CLAP: Methinks yon sable knight will joust it with the best. + +CUNTY KATE: _(Blushing deeply.)_ Nay, madam. The gules doublet and +merry saint George for me! + +STEPHEN: + + The harlot’s cry from street to street + Shall weave Old Ireland’s windingsheet. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Loosening his belt, shouts.)_ I’ll wring the neck of +any fucking bastard says a word against my bleeding fucking king. + +BLOOM: _(Shakes Cissy Caffrey’s shoulders.)_ Speak, you! Are you struck +dumb? You are the link between nations and generations. Speak, woman, +sacred lifegiver! + +CISSY CAFFREY: _(Alarmed, seizes Private Carr’s sleeve.)_ Amn’t I with +you? Amn’t I your girl? Cissy’s your girl. _(She cries.)_ Police! + +STEPHEN: _(Ecstatically, to Cissy Caffrey.)_ + + White thy fambles, red thy gan + And thy quarrons dainty is. + +VOICES: Police! + +DISTANT VOICES: Dublin’s burning! Dublin’s burning! On fire, on fire! + +_(Brimstone fires spring up. Dense clouds roll past. Heavy Gatling guns +boom. Pandemonium. Troops deploy. Gallop of hoofs. Artillery. Hoarse +commands. Bells clang. Backers shout. Drunkards bawl. Whores screech. +Foghorns hoot. Cries of valour. Shrieks of dying. Pikes clash on +cuirasses. Thieves rob the slain. Birds of prey, winging from the sea, +rising from marshlands, swooping from eyries, hover screaming, gannets, +cormorants, vultures, goshawks, climbing woodcocks, peregrines, +merlins, blackgrouse, sea eagles, gulls, albatrosses, barnacle geese. +The midnight sun is darkened. The earth trembles. The dead of Dublin +from Prospect and Mount Jerome in white sheepskin overcoats and black +goatfell cloaks arise and appear to many. A chasm opens with a +noiseless yawn. Tom Rochford, winner, in athlete’s singlet and +breeches, arrives at the head of the national hurdle handicap and leaps +into the void. He is followed by a race of runners and leapers. In wild +attitudes they spring from the brink. Their bodies plunge. Factory +lasses with fancy clothes toss redhot Yorkshire baraabombs. Society +ladies lift their skirts above their heads to protect themselves. +Laughing witches in red cutty sarks ride through the air on +broomsticks. Quakerlyster plasters blisters. It rains dragons’ teeth. +Armed heroes spring up from furrows. They exchange in amity the pass of +knights of the red cross and fight duels with cavalry sabres: Wolfe +Tone against Henry Grattan, Smith O’Brien against Daniel O’Connell, +Michael Davitt against Isaac Butt, Justin M’Carthy against Parnell, +Arthur Griffith against John Redmond, John O’Leary against Lear +O’Johnny, Lord Edward Fitzgerald against Lord Gerald Fitzedward, The +O’Donoghue of the Glens against The Glens of The O’Donoghue. On an +eminence, the centre of the earth, rises the fieldaltar of Saint +Barbara. Black candles rise from its gospel and epistle horns. From the +high barbacans of the tower two shafts of light fall on the smokepalled +altarstone. On the altarstone Mrs Mina Purefoy, goddess of unreason, +lies, naked, fettered, a chalice resting on her swollen belly. Father +Malachi O’Flynn in a lace petticoat and reversed chasuble, his two left +feet back to the front, celebrates camp mass. The Reverend Mr Hugh C +Haines Love M. A. in a plain cassock and mortarboard, his head and +collar back to the front, holds over the celebrant’s head an open +umbrella.)_ + +FATHER MALACHI O’FLYNN: _Introibo ad altare diaboli._ + +THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: To the devil which hath made glad my young +days. + +FATHER MALACHI O’FLYNN: _(Takes from the chalice and elevates a +blooddripping host.) Corpus meum._ + +THE REVEREND MR HAINES LOVE: _(Raises high behind the celebrant’s +petticoat, revealing his grey bare hairy buttocks between which a +carrot is stuck.)_ My body. + +THE VOICE OF ALL THE DAMNED: Htengier Tnetopinmo Dog Drol eht rof, +Aiulella! + +_(From on high the voice of Adonai calls.)_ + +ADONAI: Dooooooooooog! + +THE VOICE OF ALL THE BLESSED: Alleluia, for the Lord God Omnipotent +reigneth! + +_(From on high the voice of Adonai calls.)_ + +ADONAI: Goooooooooood! + +_(In strident discord peasants and townsmen of Orange and Green +factions sing_ Kick the Pope _and_ Daily, daily sing to Mary.) + +PRIVATE CARR: _(With ferocious articulation.)_ I’ll do him in, so help +me fucking Christ! I’ll wring the bastard fucker’s bleeding blasted +fucking windpipe! + +_(The retriever, nosing on the fringe of the crowd, barks noisily.)_ + +OLD GUMMY GRANNY: _(Thrusts a dagger towards Stephen’s hand.)_ Remove +him, acushla. At 8.35 a.m. you will be in heaven and Ireland will be +free. _(She prays.)_ O good God, take him! + +BLOOM: _(Runs to Lynch.)_ Can’t you get him away? + +LYNCH: He likes dialectic, the universal language. Kitty! _(To Bloom.)_ +Get him away, you. He won’t listen to me. + +_(He drags Kitty away.)_ + +STEPHEN: _(Points.) Exit Judas. Et laqueo se suspendit._ + +BLOOM: _(Runs to Stephen.)_ Come along with me now before worse +happens. Here’s your stick. + +STEPHEN: Stick, no. Reason. This feast of pure reason. + +CISSY CAFFREY: _(Pulling Private Carr.)_ Come on, you’re boosed. He +insulted me but I forgive him. _(Shouting in his ear.)_ I forgive him +for insulting me. + +BLOOM: _(Over Stephen’s shoulder.)_ Yes, go. You see he’s incapable. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Breaks loose.)_ I’ll insult him. + +_(He rushes towards Stephen, fist outstretched, and strikes him in the +face. Stephen totters, collapses, falls, stunned. He lies prone, his +face to the sky, his hat rolling to the wall. Bloom follows and picks +it up.)_ + +MAJOR TWEEDY: _(Loudly.)_ Carbine in bucket! Cease fire! Salute! + +THE RETRIEVER: _(Barking furiously.)_ Ute ute ute ute ute ute ute ute. + +THE CROWD: Let him up! Don’t strike him when he’s down! Air! Who? The +soldier hit him. He’s a professor. Is he hurted? Don’t manhandle him! +He’s fainted! + +A HAG: What call had the redcoat to strike the gentleman and he under +the influence. Let them go and fight the Boers! + +THE BAWD: Listen to who’s talking! Hasn’t the soldier a right to go +with his girl? He gave him the coward’s blow. + +_(They grab at each other’s hair, claw at each other and spit.)_ + +THE RETRIEVER: _(Barking.)_ Wow wow wow. + +BLOOM: _(Shoves them back, loudly.)_ Get back, stand back! + +PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Tugging his comrade.)_ Here. Bugger off, Harry. +Here’s the cops! _(Two raincaped watch, tall, stand in the group.)_ + +FIRST WATCH: What’s wrong here? + +PRIVATE COMPTON: We were with this lady. And he insulted us. And +assaulted my chum. _(The retriever barks.)_ Who owns the bleeding tyke? + +CISSY CAFFREY: _(With expectation.)_ Is he bleeding! + +A MAN: _(Rising from his knees.)_ No. Gone off. He’ll come to all +right. + +BLOOM: _(Glances sharply at the man.)_ Leave him to me. I can easily... + +SECOND WATCH: Who are you? Do you know him? + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Lurches towards the watch.)_ He insulted my lady +friend. + +BLOOM: _(Angrily.)_ You hit him without provocation. I’m a witness. +Constable, take his regimental number. + +SECOND WATCH: I don’t want your instructions in the discharge of my +duty. + +PRIVATE COMPTON: _(Pulling his comrade.)_ Here, bugger off Harry. Or +Bennett’ll shove you in the lockup. + +PRIVATE CARR: _(Staggering as he is pulled away.)_ God fuck old +Bennett. He’s a whitearsed bugger. I don’t give a shit for him. + +FIRST WATCH: _(Takes out his notebook.)_ What’s his name? + +BLOOM: _(Peering over the crowd.)_ I just see a car there. If you give +me a hand a second, sergeant... + +FIRST WATCH: Name and address. + +_(Corny Kelleher, weepers round his hat, a death wreath in his hand, +appears among the bystanders.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Quickly.)_ O, the very man! _(He whispers.)_ Simon Dedalus’ +son. A bit sprung. Get those policemen to move those loafers back. + +SECOND WATCH: Night, Mr Kelleher. + +CORNY KELLEHER: _(To the watch, with drawling eye.)_ That’s all right. +I know him. Won a bit on the races. Gold cup. Throwaway. _(He laughs.)_ +Twenty to one. Do you follow me? + +FIRST WATCH: _(Turns to the crowd.)_ Here, what are you all gaping at? +Move on out of that. + +_(The crowd disperses slowly, muttering, down the lane.)_ + +CORNY KELLEHER: Leave it to me, sergeant. That’ll be all right. _(He +laughs, shaking his head.)_ We were often as bad ourselves, ay or +worse. What? Eh, what? + +FIRST WATCH: _(Laughs.)_ I suppose so. + +CORNY KELLEHER: _(Nudges the second watch.)_ Come and wipe your name +off the slate. _(He lilts, wagging his head.)_ With my tooraloom +tooraloom tooraloom tooraloom. What, eh, do you follow me? + +SECOND WATCH: _(Genially.)_ Ah, sure we were too. + +CORNY KELLEHER: _(Winking.)_ Boys will be boys. I’ve a car round there. + +SECOND WATCH: All right, Mr Kelleher. Good night. + +CORNY KELLEHER: I’ll see to that. + +BLOOM: _(Shakes hands with both of the watch in turn.)_ Thank you very +much, gentlemen. Thank you. _(He mumbles confidentially.)_ We don’t +want any scandal, you understand. Father is a wellknown highly +respected citizen. Just a little wild oats, you understand. + +FIRST WATCH: O. I understand, sir. + +SECOND WATCH: That’s all right, sir. + +FIRST WATCH: It was only in case of corporal injuries I’d have to +report it at the station. + +BLOOM: _(Nods rapidly.)_ Naturally. Quite right. Only your bounden +duty. + +SECOND WATCH: It’s our duty. + +CORNY KELLEHER: Good night, men. + +THE WATCH: _(Saluting together.)_ Night, gentlemen. _(They move off +with slow heavy tread.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Blows.)_ Providential you came on the scene. You have a +car?... + +CORNY KELLEHER: _(Laughs, pointing his thumb over his right shoulder to +the car brought up against the scaffolding.)_ Two commercials that were +standing fizz in Jammet’s. Like princes, faith. One of them lost two +quid on the race. Drowning his grief. And were on for a go with the +jolly girls. So I landed them up on Behan’s car and down to nighttown. + +BLOOM: I was just going home by Gardiner street when I happened to... + +CORNY KELLEHER: _(Laughs.)_ Sure they wanted me to join in with the +mots. No, by God, says I. Not for old stagers like myself and yourself. +_(He laughs again and leers with lacklustre eye.)_ Thanks be to God we +have it in the house, what, eh, do you follow me? Hah, hah, hah! + +BLOOM: _(Tries to laugh.)_ He, he, he! Yes. Matter of fact I was just +visiting an old friend of mine there, Virag, you don’t know him (poor +fellow, he’s laid up for the past week) and we had a liquor together +and I was just making my way home... + +_(The horse neighs.)_ + +THE HORSE: Hohohohohohoh! Hohohohome! + +CORNY KELLEHER: Sure it was Behan our jarvey there that told me after +we left the two commercials in Mrs Cohen’s and I told him to pull up +and got off to see. _(He laughs.)_ Sober hearsedrivers a speciality. +Will I give him a lift home? Where does he hang out? Somewhere in +Cabra, what? + +BLOOM: No, in Sandycove, I believe, from what he let drop. + +_(Stephen, prone, breathes to the stars. Corny Kelleher, asquint, +drawls at the horse. Bloom, in gloom, looms down.)_ + +CORNY KELLEHER: _(Scratches his nape.)_ Sandycove! _(He bends down and +calls to Stephen.)_ Eh! _(He calls again.)_ Eh! He’s covered with +shavings anyhow. Take care they didn’t lift anything off him. + +BLOOM: No, no, no. I have his money and his hat here and stick. + +CORNY KELLEHER: Ah, well, he’ll get over it. No bones broken. Well, +I’ll shove along. _(He laughs.)_ I’ve a rendezvous in the morning. +Burying the dead. Safe home! + +THE HORSE: _(Neighs.)_ Hohohohohome. + +BLOOM: Good night. I’ll just wait and take him along in a few... + +_(Corny Kelleher returns to the outside car and mounts it. The horse +harness jingles.)_ + +CORNY KELLEHER: _(From the car, standing.)_ Night. + +BLOOM: Night. + +_(The jarvey chucks the reins and raises his whip encouragingly. The +car and horse back slowly, awkwardly, and turn. Corny Kelleher on the +sideseat sways his head to and fro in sign of mirth at Bloom’s plight. +The jarvey joins in the mute pantomimic merriment nodding from the +farther seat. Bloom shakes his head in mute mirthful reply. With thumb +and palm Corny Kelleher reassures that the two bobbies will allow the +sleep to continue for what else is to be done. With a slow nod Bloom +conveys his gratitude as that is exactly what Stephen needs. The car +jingles tooraloom round the corner of the tooraloom lane. Corny +Kelleher again reassuralooms with his hand. Bloom with his hand +assuralooms Corny Kelleher that he is reassuraloomtay. The tinkling +hoofs and jingling harness grow fainter with their tooralooloo looloo +lay. Bloom, holding in his hand Stephen’s hat, festooned with shavings, +and ashplant, stands irresolute. Then he bends to him and shakes him by +the shoulder.)_ + +BLOOM: Eh! Ho! _(There is no answer; he bends again.)_ Mr Dedalus! +_(There is no answer.)_ The name if you call. Somnambulist. _(He bends +again and, hesitating, brings his mouth near the face of the prostrate +form.)_ Stephen! _(There is no answer. He calls again.)_ Stephen! + +STEPHEN: _(Groans.)_ Who? Black panther. Vampire. _(He sighs and +stretches himself, then murmurs thickly with prolonged vowels.)_ + + Who... drive... Fergus now + And pierce... wood’s woven shade?... + +_(He turns on his left side, sighing, doubling himself together.)_ + +BLOOM: Poetry. Well educated. Pity. _(He bends again and undoes the +buttons of Stephen’s waistcoat.)_ To breathe. _(He brushes the +woodshavings from Stephen’s clothes with light hand and fingers.)_ One +pound seven. Not hurt anyhow. _(He listens.)_ What? + +STEPHEN: _(Murmurs.)_ + + ... shadows... the woods + ... white breast... dim sea. + +_(He stretches out his arms, sighs again and curls his body. Bloom, +holding the hat and ashplant, stands erect. A dog barks in the +distance. Bloom tightens and loosens his grip on the ashplant. He looks +down on Stephen’s face and form.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Communes with the night.)_ Face reminds me of his poor mother. +In the shady wood. The deep white breast. Ferguson, I think I caught. A +girl. Some girl. Best thing could happen him. _(He murmurs.)_... swear +that I will always hail, ever conceal, never reveal, any part or parts, +art or arts... _(He murmurs.)_... in the rough sands of the sea... a +cabletow’s length from the shore... where the tide ebbs... and flows +... + +_(Silent, thoughtful, alert he stands on guard, his fingers at his lips +in the attitude of secret master. Against the dark wall a figure +appears slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed +in an Eton suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding a +book in his hand. He reads from right to left inaudibly, smiling, +kissing the page.)_ + +BLOOM: _(Wonderstruck, calls inaudibly.)_ Rudy! + +RUDY: _(Gazes, unseeing, into Bloom’s eyes and goes on reading, +kissing, smiling. He has a delicate mauve face. On his suit he has +diamond and ruby buttons. In his free left hand he holds a slim ivory +cane with a violet bowknot. A white lambkin peeps out of his waistcoat +pocket.)_ + + +— III — + + +[ 16 ] + +Preparatory to anything else Mr Bloom brushed off the greater bulk of +the shavings and handed Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up +generally in orthodox Samaritan fashion which he very badly needed. His +(Stephen’s) mind was not exactly what you would call wandering but a +bit unsteady and on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr +Bloom in view of the hour it was and there being no pump of Vartry +water available for their ablutions let alone drinking purposes hit +upon an expedient by suggesting, off the reel, the propriety of the +cabman’s shelter, as it was called, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt +bridge where they might hit upon some drinkables in the shape of a milk +and soda or a mineral. But how to get there was the rub. For the nonce +he was rather nonplussed but inasmuch as the duty plainly devolved upon +him to take some measures on the subject he pondered suitable ways and +means during which Stephen repeatedly yawned. So far as he could see he +was rather pale in the face so that it occurred to him as highly +advisable to get a conveyance of some description which would answer in +their then condition, both of them being e.d.ed, particularly Stephen, +always assuming that there was such a thing to be found. Accordingly +after a few such preliminaries as brushing, in spite of his having +forgotten to take up his rather soapsuddy handkerchief after it had +done yeoman service in the shaving line, they both walked together +along Beaver street or, more properly, lane as far as the farrier’s and +the distinctly fetid atmosphere of the livery stables at the corner of +Montgomery street where they made tracks to the left from thence +debouching into Amiens street round by the corner of Dan Bergin’s. But +as he confidently anticipated there was not a sign of a Jehu plying for +hire anywhere to be seen except a fourwheeler, probably engaged by some +fellows inside on the spree, outside the North Star hotel and there was +no symptom of its budging a quarter of an inch when Mr Bloom, who was +anything but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by +emitting a kind of a whistle, holding his arms arched over his head, +twice. + +This was a quandary but, bringing common sense to bear on it, evidently +there was nothing for it but put a good face on the matter and foot it +which they accordingly did. So, bevelling around by Mullett’s and the +Signal House which they shortly reached, they proceeded perforce in the +direction of Amiens street railway terminus, Mr Bloom being handicapped +by the circumstance that one of the back buttons of his trousers had, +to vary the timehonoured adage, gone the way of all buttons though, +entering thoroughly into the spirit of the thing, he heroically made +light of the mischance. So as neither of them were particularly pressed +for time, as it happened, and the temperature refreshing since it +cleared up after the recent visitation of Jupiter Pluvius, they +dandered along past by where the empty vehicle was waiting without a +fare or a jarvey. As it so happened a Dublin United Tramways Company’s +sandstrewer happened to be returning and the elder man recounted to his +companion _à propos_ of the incident his own truly miraculous escape of +some little while back. They passed the main entrance of the Great +Northern railway station, the starting point for Belfast, where of +course all traffic was suspended at that late hour and passing the +backdoor of the morgue (a not very enticing locality, not to say +gruesome to a degree, more especially at night) ultimately gained the +Dock Tavern and in due course turned into Store street, famous for its +C division police station. Between this point and the high at present +unlit warehouses of Beresford place Stephen thought to think of Ibsen, +associated with Baird’s the stonecutter’s in his mind somehow in Talbot +place, first turning on the right, while the other who was acting as +his _fidus Achates_ inhaled with internal satisfaction the smell of +James Rourke’s city bakery, situated quite close to where they were, +the very palatable odour indeed of our daily bread, of all commodities +of the public the primary and most indispensable. Bread, the staff of +life, earn your bread, O tell me where is fancy bread, at Rourke’s the +baker’s it is said. + +_En route_ to his taciturn and, not to put too fine a point on it, not +yet perfectly sober companion Mr Bloom who at all events was in +complete possession of his faculties, never more so, in fact +disgustingly sober, spoke a word of caution _re_ the dangers of +nighttown, women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which, barely +permissible once in a while though not as a habitual practice, was of +the nature of a regular deathtrap for young fellows of his age +particularly if they had acquired drinking habits under the influence +of liquor unless you knew a little jiujitsu for every contingency as +even a fellow on the broad of his back could administer a nasty kick if +you didn’t look out. Highly providential was the appearance on the +scene of Corny Kelleher when Stephen was blissfully unconscious but for +that man in the gap turning up at the eleventh hour the finis might +have been that he might have been a candidate for the accident ward or, +failing that, the bridewell and an appearance in the court next day +before Mr Tobias or, he being the solicitor rather, old Wall, he meant +to say, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a chap when it got +bruited about. The reason he mentioned the fact was that a lot of those +policemen, whom he cordially disliked, were admittedly unscrupulous in +the service of the Crown and, as Mr Bloom put it, recalling a case or +two in the A division in Clanbrassil street, prepared to swear a hole +through a ten gallon pot. Never on the spot when wanted but in quiet +parts of the city, Pembroke road for example, the guardians of the law +were well in evidence, the obvious reason being they were paid to +protect the upper classes. Another thing he commented on was equipping +soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any description liable to go off +at any time which was tantamount to inciting them against civilians +should by any chance they fall out over anything. You frittered away +your time, he very sensibly maintained, and health and also character +besides which, the squandermania of the thing, fast women of the +_demimonde_ ran away with a lot of £. s. d. into the bargain and the +greatest danger of all was who you got drunk with though, touching the +much vexed question of stimulants, he relished a glass of choice old +wine in season as both nourishing and bloodmaking and possessing +aperient virtues (notably a good burgundy which he was a staunch +believer in) still never beyond a certain point where he invariably +drew the line as it simply led to trouble all round to say nothing of +your being at the tender mercy of others practically. Most of all he +commented adversely on the desertion of Stephen by all his pubhunting +_confrères_ but one, a most glaring piece of ratting on the part of his +brother medicos under all the circs. + +—And that one was Judas, Stephen said, who up to then had said nothing +whatsoever of any kind. + +Discussing these and kindred topics they made a beeline across the back +of the Customhouse and passed under the Loop Line bridge where a +brazier of coke burning in front of a sentrybox or something like one +attracted their rather lagging footsteps. Stephen of his own accord +stopped for no special reason to look at the heap of barren +cobblestones and by the light emanating from the brazier he could just +make out the darker figure of the corporation watchman inside the gloom +of the sentrybox. He began to remember that this had happened or had +been mentioned as having happened before but it cost him no small +effort before he remembered that he recognised in the sentry a +_quondam_ friend of his father’s, Gumley. To avoid a meeting he drew +nearer to the pillars of the railway bridge. + +—Someone saluted you, Mr Bloom said. + +A figure of middle height on the prowl evidently under the arches +saluted again, calling: + +—Night! + +Stephen of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return the +compliment. Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch +as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but +nevertheless remained on the _qui vive_ with just a shade of anxiety +though not funkyish in the least. Though unusual in the Dublin area he +knew that it was not by any means unknown for desperadoes who had next +to nothing to live on to be abroad waylaying and generally terrorising +peaceable pedestrians by placing a pistol at their head in some +secluded spot outside the city proper, famished loiterers of the Thames +embankment category they might be hanging about there or simply +marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one fell +swoop at a moment’s notice, your money or your life, leaving you there +to point a moral, gagged and garrotted. + +Stephen, that is when the accosting figure came to close quarters, +though he was not in an over sober state himself recognised Corley’s +breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. Lord John Corley some called him +and his genealogy came about in this wise. He was the eldest son of +inspector Corley of the G division, lately deceased, who had married a +certain Katherine Brophy, the daughter of a Louth farmer. His +grandfather Patrick Michael Corley of New Ross had married the widow of +a publican there whose maiden name had been Katherine (also) Talbot. +Rumour had it (though not proved) that she descended from the house of +the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose mansion, really an unquestionably +fine residence of its kind and well worth seeing, her mother or aunt or +some relative, a woman, as the tale went, of extreme beauty, had +enjoyed the distinction of being in service in the washkitchen. This +therefore was the reason why the still comparatively young though +dissolute man who now addressed Stephen was spoken of by some with +facetious proclivities as Lord John Corley. + +Taking Stephen on one side he had the customary doleful ditty to tell. +Not as much as a farthing to purchase a night’s lodgings. His friends +had all deserted him. Furthermore he had a row with Lenehan and called +him to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a sprinkling of a number of +other uncalledfor expressions. He was out of a job and implored of +Stephen to tell him where on God’s earth he could get something, +anything at all, to do. No, it was the daughter of the mother in the +washkitchen that was fostersister to the heir of the house or else they +were connected through the mother in some way, both occurrences +happening at the same time if the whole thing wasn’t a complete +fabrication from start to finish. Anyhow he was all in. + +—I wouldn’t ask you only, pursued he, on my solemn oath and God knows +I’m on the rocks. + +—There’ll be a job tomorrow or next day, Stephen told him, in a boys’ +school at Dalkey for a gentleman usher. Mr Garrett Deasy. Try it. You +may mention my name. + +—Ah, God, Corley replied, sure I couldn’t teach in a school, man. I was +never one of your bright ones, he added with a half laugh. I got stuck +twice in the junior at the christian brothers. + +—I have no place to sleep myself, Stephen informed him. + +Corley at the first go-off was inclined to suspect it was something to +do with Stephen being fired out of his digs for bringing in a bloody +tart off the street. There was a dosshouse in Marlborough street, Mrs +Maloney’s, but it was only a tanner touch and full of undesirables but +M’Conachie told him you got a decent enough do in the Brazen Head over +in Winetavern street (which was distantly suggestive to the person +addressed of friar Bacon) for a bob. He was starving too though he +hadn’t said a word about it. + +Though this sort of thing went on every other night or very near it +still Stephen’s feelings got the better of him in a sense though he +knew that Corley’s brandnew rigmarole on a par with the others was +hardly deserving of much credence. However _haud ignarus malorum +miseris succurrere disco etcetera_ as the Latin poet remarks especially +as luck would have it he got paid his screw after every middle of the +month on the sixteenth which was the date of the month as a matter of +fact though a good bit of the wherewithal was demolished. But the cream +of the joke was nothing would get it out of Corley’s head that he was +living in affluence and hadn’t a thing to do but hand out the needful. +Whereas. He put his hand in a pocket anyhow not with the idea of +finding any food there but thinking he might lend him anything up to a +bob or so in lieu so that he might endeavour at all events and get +sufficient to eat but the result was in the negative for, to his +chagrin, he found his cash missing. A few broken biscuits were all the +result of his investigation. He tried his hardest to recollect for the +moment whether he had lost as well he might have or left because in +that contingency it was not a pleasant lookout, very much the reverse +in fact. He was altogether too fagged out to institute a thorough +search though he tried to recollect. About biscuits he dimly +remembered. Who now exactly gave them he wondered or where was or did +he buy. However in another pocket he came across what he surmised in +the dark were pennies, erroneously however, as it turned out. + +—Those are halfcrowns, man, Corley corrected him. + +And so in point of fact they turned out to be. Stephen anyhow lent him +one of them. + +—Thanks, Corley answered, you’re a gentleman. I’ll pay you back one +time. Who’s that with you? I saw him a few times in the Bleeding Horse +in Camden street with Boylan, the billsticker. You might put in a good +word for us to get me taken on there. I’d carry a sandwichboard only +the girl in the office told me they’re full up for the next three +weeks, man. God, you’ve to book ahead, man, you’d think it was for the +Carl Rosa. I don’t give a shite anyway so long as I get a job, even as +a crossing sweeper. + +Subsequently being not quite so down in the mouth after the two and six +he got he informed Stephen about a fellow by the name of Bags Comisky +that he said Stephen knew well out of Fullam’s, the shipchandler’s, +bookkeeper there that used to be often round in Nagle’s back with +O’Mara and a little chap with a stutter the name of Tighe. Anyhow he +was lagged the night before last and fined ten bob for a drunk and +disorderly and refusing to go with the constable. + +Mr Bloom in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the vicinity of the +cobblestones near the brazier of coke in front of the corporation +watchman’s sentrybox who evidently a glutton for work, it struck him, +was having a quiet forty winks for all intents and purposes on his own +private account while Dublin slept. He threw an odd eye at the same +time now and then at Stephen’s anything but immaculately attired +interlocutor as if he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other though +where he was not in a position to truthfully state nor had he the +remotest idea when. Being a levelheaded individual who could give +points to not a few in point of shrewd observation he also remarked on +his very dilapidated hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally +testifying to a chronic impecuniosity. Palpably he was one of his +hangerson but for the matter of that it was merely a question of one +preying on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in every deep, so to put +it, a deeper depth and for the matter of that if the man in the street +chanced to be in the dock himself penal servitude with or without the +option of a fine would be a very _rara avis_ altogether. In any case he +had a consummate amount of cool assurance intercepting people at that +hour of the night or morning. Pretty thick that was certainly. + +The pair parted company and Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom who, with his +practised eye, was not without perceiving that he had succumbed to the +blandiloquence of the other parasite. Alluding to the encounter he +said, laughingly, Stephen, that is: + +—He is down on his luck. He asked me to ask you to ask somebody named +Boylan, a billsticker, to give him a job as a sandwichman. + +At this intelligence, in which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr +Bloom gazed abstractedly for the space of a half a second or so in the +direction of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the farfamed name of Eblana, +moored alongside Customhouse quay and quite possibly out of repair, +whereupon he observed evasively: + +—Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they say. Now you mention it +his face was familiar to me. But, leaving that for the moment, how much +did you part with, he queried, if I am not too inquisitive? + +—Half a crown, Stephen responded. I daresay he needs it to sleep +somewhere. + +—Needs! Mr Bloom ejaculated, professing not the least surprise at the +intelligence, I can quite credit the assertion and I guarantee he +invariably does. Everyone according to his needs or everyone according +to his deeds. But, talking about things in general, where, added he +with a smile, will you sleep yourself? Walking to Sandycove is out of +the question. And even supposing you did you won’t get in after what +occurred at Westland Row station. Simply fag out there for nothing. I +don’t mean to presume to dictate to you in the slightest degree but why +did you leave your father’s house? + +—To seek misfortune, was Stephen’s answer. + +—I met your respected father on a recent occasion, Mr Bloom +diplomatically returned, today in fact, or to be strictly accurate, on +yesterday. Where does he live at present? I gathered in the course of +conversation that he had moved. + +—I believe he is in Dublin somewhere, Stephen answered unconcernedly. +Why? + +—A gifted man, Mr Bloom said of Mr Dedalus senior, in more respects +than one and a born _raconteur_ if ever there was one. He takes great +pride, quite legitimate, out of you. You could go back perhaps, he +hasarded, still thinking of the very unpleasant scene at Westland Row +terminus when it was perfectly evident that the other two, Mulligan, +that is, and that English tourist friend of his, who eventually euchred +their third companion, were patently trying as if the whole bally +station belonged to them to give Stephen the slip in the confusion, +which they did. + +There was no response forthcoming to the suggestion however, such as it +was, Stephen’s mind’s eye being too busily engaged in repicturing his +family hearth the last time he saw it with his sister Dilly sitting by +the ingle, her hair hanging down, waiting for some weak Trinidad shell +cocoa that was in the sootcoated kettle to be done so that she and he +could drink it with the oatmealwater for milk after the Friday herrings +they had eaten at two a penny with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and +Katey, the cat meanwhile under the mangle devouring a mess of eggshells +and charred fish heads and bones on a square of brown paper, in +accordance with the third precept of the church to fast and abstain on +the days commanded, it being quarter tense or if not, ember days or +something like that. + +—No, Mr Bloom repeated again, I wouldn’t personally repose much trust +in that boon companion of yours who contributes the humorous element, +Dr Mulligan, as a guide, philosopher and friend if I were in your +shoes. He knows which side his bread is buttered on though in all +probability he never realised what it is to be without regular meals. +Of course you didn’t notice as much as I did. But it wouldn’t occasion +me the least surprise to learn that a pinch of tobacco or some narcotic +was put in your drink for some ulterior object. + +He understood however from all he heard that Dr Mulligan was a +versatile allround man, by no means confined to medicine only, who was +rapidly coming to the fore in his line and, if the report was verified, +bade fair to enjoy a flourishing practice in the not too distant future +as a tony medical practitioner drawing a handsome fee for his services +in addition to which professional status his rescue of that man from +certain drowning by artificial respiration and what they call first aid +at Skerries, or Malahide was it?, was, he was bound to admit, an +exceedingly plucky deed which he could not too highly praise, so that +frankly he was utterly at a loss to fathom what earthly reason could be +at the back of it except he put it down to sheer cussedness or +jealousy, pure and simple. + +—Except it simply amounts to one thing and he is what they call picking +your brains, he ventured to throw out. + +The guarded glance of half solicitude half curiosity augmented by +friendliness which he gave at Stephen’s at present morose expression of +features did not throw a flood of light, none at all in fact on the +problem as to whether he had let himself be badly bamboozled to judge +by two or three lowspirited remarks he let drop or the other way about +saw through the affair and for some reason or other best known to +himself allowed matters to more or less. Grinding poverty did have that +effect and he more than conjectured that, high educational abilities +though he possessed, he experienced no little difficulty in making both +ends meet. + +Adjacent to the men’s public urinal they perceived an icecream car +round which a group of presumably Italians in heated altercation were +getting rid of voluble expressions in their vivacious language in a +particularly animated way, there being some little differences between +the parties. + +—_Puttana madonna, che ci dia i quattrini! Ho ragione? Culo rotto!_ + +_—Intendiamoci. Mezzo sovrano più..._ + +_—Dice lui, però!_ + +_—Mezzo._ + +_—Farabutto! Mortacci sui!_ + +_—Ma ascolta! Cinque la testa più..._ + +Mr Bloom and Stephen entered the cabman’s shelter, an unpretentious +wooden structure, where, prior to then, he had rarely if ever been +before, the former having previously whispered to the latter a few +hints anent the keeper of it said to be the once famous Skin-the-Goat +Fitzharris, the invincible, though he could not vouch for the actual +facts which quite possibly there was not one vestige of truth in. A few +moments later saw our two noctambules safely seated in a discreet +corner only to be greeted by stares from the decidedly miscellaneous +collection of waifs and strays and other nondescript specimens of the +genus _homo_ already there engaged in eating and drinking diversified +by conversation for whom they seemingly formed an object of marked +curiosity. + +—Now touching a cup of coffee, Mr Bloom ventured to plausibly suggest +to break the ice, it occurs to me you ought to sample something in the +shape of solid food, say, a roll of some description. + +Accordingly his first act was with characteristic _sangfroid_ to order +these commodities quietly. The _hoi polloi_ of jarvies or stevedores or +whatever they were after a cursory examination turned their eyes +apparently dissatisfied, away though one redbearded bibulous +individual, portion of whose hair was greyish, a sailor probably, still +stared for some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention +to the floor. Mr Bloom, availing himself of the right of free speech, +he having just a bowing acquaintance with the language in dispute, +though, to be sure, rather in a quandary over _voglio_, remarked to his +_protégé_ in an audible tone of voice _à propos_ of the battle royal in +the street which was still raging fast and furious: + +—A beautiful language. I mean for singing purposes. Why do you not +write your poetry in that language? _Bella Poetria_! It is so melodious +and full. _Belladonna. Voglio._ + +Stephen, who was trying his dead best to yawn if he could, suffering +from lassitude generally, replied: + +—To fill the ear of a cow elephant. They were haggling over money. + +—Is that so? Mr Bloom asked. Of course, he subjoined pensively, at the +inward reflection of there being more languages to start with than were +absolutely necessary, it may be only the southern glamour that +surrounds it. + +The keeper of the shelter in the middle of this _tête-à-tête_ put a +boiling swimming cup of a choice concoction labelled coffee on the +table and a rather antediluvian specimen of a bun, or so it seemed. +After which he beat a retreat to his counter, Mr Bloom determining to +have a good square look at him later on so as not to appear to. For +which reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his eyes while he +did the honours by surreptitiously pushing the cup of what was +temporarily supposed to be called coffee gradually nearer him. + +—Sounds are impostures, Stephen said after a pause of some little time, +like names. Cicero, Podmore, Napoleon, Mr Goodbody. Jesus, Mr Doyle. +Shakespeares were as common as Murphies. What’s in a name? + +—Yes, to be sure, Mr Bloom unaffectedly concurred. Of course. Our name +was changed too, he added, pushing the socalled roll across. + +The redbearded sailor who had his weather eye on the newcomers boarded +Stephen, whom he had singled out for attention in particular, squarely +by asking: + +—And what might your name be? + +Just in the nick of time Mr Bloom touched his companion’s boot but +Stephen, apparently disregarding the warm pressure from an unexpected +quarter, answered: + +—Dedalus. + +The sailor stared at him heavily from a pair of drowsy baggy eyes, +rather bunged up from excessive use of boose, preferably good old +Hollands and water. + +—You know Simon Dedalus? he asked at length. + +—I’ve heard of him, Stephen said. + +Mr Bloom was all at sea for a moment, seeing the others evidently +eavesdropping too. + +—He’s Irish, the seaman bold affirmed, staring still in much the same +way and nodding. All Irish. + +—All too Irish, Stephen rejoined. + +As for Mr Bloom he could neither make head or tail of the whole +business and he was just asking himself what possible connection when +the sailor of his own accord turned to the other occupants of the +shelter with the remark: + +—I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his +shoulder. The lefthand dead shot. + +Though he was slightly hampered by an occasional stammer and his +gestures being also clumsy as it was still he did his best to explain. + +—Bottles out there, say. Fifty yards measured. Eggs on the bottles. +Cocks his gun over his shoulder. Aims. + +He turned his body half round, shut up his right eye completely. Then +he screwed his features up someway sideways and glared out into the +night with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. + +—Pom! he then shouted once. + +The entire audience waited, anticipating an additional detonation, +there being still a further egg. + +—Pom! he shouted twice. + +Egg two evidently demolished, he nodded and winked, adding +bloodthirstily: + +_—Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, + +Never missed nor he never will._ + +A silence ensued till Mr Bloom for agreeableness’ sake just felt like +asking him whether it was for a marksmanship competition like the +Bisley. + +—Beg pardon, the sailor said. + +—Long ago? Mr Bloom pursued without flinching a hairsbreadth. + +—Why, the sailor replied, relaxing to a certain extent under the magic +influence of diamond cut diamond, it might be a matter of ten years. He +toured the wide world with Hengler’s Royal Circus. I seen him do that +in Stockholm. + +—Curious coincidence, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen unobtrusively. + +—Murphy’s my name, the sailor continued. D. B. Murphy of Carrigaloe. +Know where that is? + +—Queenstown harbour, Stephen replied. + +—That’s right, the sailor said. Fort Camden and Fort Carlisle. That’s +where I hails from. I belongs there. That’s where I hails from. My +little woman’s down there. She’s waiting for me, I know. _For England, +home and beauty_. She’s my own true wife I haven’t seen for seven years +now, sailing about. + +Mr Bloom could easily picture his advent on this scene, the homecoming +to the mariner’s roadside shieling after having diddled Davy Jones, a +rainy night with a blind moon. Across the world for a wife. Quite a +number of stories there were on that particular Alice Ben Bolt topic, +Enoch Arden and Rip van Winkle and does anybody hereabouts remember +Caoc O’Leary, a favourite and most trying declamation piece by the way +of poor John Casey and a bit of perfect poetry in its own small way. +Never about the runaway wife coming back, however much devoted to the +absentee. The face at the window! Judge of his astonishment when he +finally did breast the tape and the awful truth dawned upon him anent +his better half, wrecked in his affections. You little expected me but +I’ve come to stay and make a fresh start. There she sits, a grasswidow, +at the selfsame fireside. Believes me dead, rocked in the cradle of the +deep. And there sits uncle Chubb or Tomkin, as the case might be, the +publican of the Crown and Anchor, in shirtsleeves, eating rumpsteak and +onions. No chair for father. Broo! The wind! Her brandnew arrival is on +her knee, _post mortem_ child. With a high ro! and a randy ro! and my +galloping tearing tandy, O! Bow to the inevitable. Grin and bear it. I +remain with much love your brokenhearted husband W. B. Murphy. + +The sailor, who scarcely seemed to be a Dublin resident, turned to one +of the jarvies with the request: + +—You don’t happen to have such a thing as a spare chaw about you? + +The jarvey addressed as it happened had not but the keeper took a die +of plug from his good jacket hanging on a nail and the desired object +was passed from hand to hand. + +—Thank you, the sailor said. + +He deposited the quid in his gob and, chewing and with some slow +stammers, proceeded: + +—We come up this morning eleven o’clock. The threemaster _Rosevean_ +from Bridgwater with bricks. I shipped to get over. Paid off this +afternoon. There’s my discharge. See? D. B. Murphy. A. B. S. + +In confirmation of which statement he extricated from an inside pocket +and handed to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document. + +—You must have seen a fair share of the world, the keeper remarked, +leaning on the counter. + +—Why, the sailor answered upon reflection upon it, I’ve circumnavigated +a bit since I first joined on. I was in the Red Sea. I was in China and +North America and South America. We was chased by pirates one voyage. I +seen icebergs plenty, growlers. I was in Stockholm and the Black Sea, +the Dardanelles under Captain Dalton, the best bloody man that ever +scuttled a ship. I seen Russia. _Gospodi pomilyou_. That’s how the +Russians prays. + +—You seen queer sights, don’t be talking, put in a jarvey. + +—Why, the sailor said, shifting his partially chewed plug. I seen queer +things too, ups and downs. I seen a crocodile bite the fluke of an +anchor same as I chew that quid. + +He took out of his mouth the pulpy quid and, lodging it between his +teeth, bit ferociously: + +—Khaan! Like that. And I seen maneaters in Peru that eats corpses and +the livers of horses. Look here. Here they are. A friend of mine sent +me. + +He fumbled out a picture postcard from his inside pocket which seemed +to be in its way a species of repository and pushed it along the table. +The printed matter on it stated: _Choza de Indios. Beni, Bolivia._ + +All focussed their attention at the scene exhibited, a group of savage +women in striped loincloths, squatted, blinking, suckling, frowning, +sleeping amid a swarm of infants (there must have been quite a score of +them) outside some primitive shanties of osier. + +—Chews coca all day, the communicative tarpaulin added. Stomachs like +breadgraters. Cuts off their diddies when they can’t bear no more +children. + +See them sitting there stark ballocknaked eating a dead horse’s liver +raw. + +His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns +for several minutes if not more. + +—Know how to keep them off? he inquired generally. + +Nobody volunteering a statement he winked, saying: + +—Glass. That boggles ’em. Glass. + +Mr Bloom, without evincing surprise, unostentatiously turned over the +card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark. It ran +as follows: _Tarjeta Postal, Señor A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, +Chile._ There was no message evidently, as he took particular notice. +Though not an implicit believer in the lurid story narrated (or the +eggsniping transaction for that matter despite William Tell and the +Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in _Maritana_ on which +occasion the former’s ball passed through the latter’s hat) having +detected a discrepancy between his name (assuming he was the person he +represented himself to be and not sailing under false colours after +having boxed the compass on the strict q.t. somewhere) and the +fictitious addressee of the missive which made him nourish some +suspicions of our friend’s _bona fides_ nevertheless it reminded him in +a way of a longcherished plan he meant to one day realise some +Wednesday or Saturday of travelling to London _via_ long sea not to say +that he had ever travelled extensively to any great extent but he was +at heart a born adventurer though by a trick of fate he had +consistently remained a landlubber except you call going to Holyhead +which was his longest. Martin Cunningham frequently said he would work +a pass through Egan but some deuced hitch or other eternally cropped up +with the net result that the scheme fell through. But even suppose it +did come to planking down the needful and breaking Boyd’s heart it was +not so dear, purse permitting, a few guineas at the outside considering +the fare to Mullingar where he figured on going was five and six, there +and back. The trip would benefit health on account of the bracing ozone +and be in every way thoroughly pleasurable, especially for a chap whose +liver was out of order, seeing the different places along the route, +Plymouth, Falmouth, Southampton and so on culminating in an instructive +tour of the sights of the great metropolis, the spectacle of our modern +Babylon where doubtless he would see the greatest improvement, tower, +abbey, wealth of Park lane to renew acquaintance with. Another thing +just struck him as a by no means bad notion was he might have a gaze +around on the spot to see about trying to make arrangements about a +concert tour of summer music embracing the most prominent pleasure +resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, +Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate and so on, beautiful Bournemouth, the +Channel islands and similar bijou spots, which might prove highly +remunerative. Not, of course, with a hole and corner scratch company or +local ladies on the job, witness Mrs C P M’Coy type lend me your valise +and I’ll post you the ticket. No, something top notch, an all star +Irish caste, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his own legal +consort as leading lady as a sort of counterblast to the Elster Grimes +and Moody-Manners, perfectly simple matter and he was quite sanguine of +success, providing puffs in the local papers could be managed by some +fellow with a bit of bounce who could pull the indispensable wires and +thus combine business with pleasure. But who? That was the rub. + +Also, without being actually positive, it struck him a great field was +to be opened up in the line of opening up new routes to keep pace with +the times _apropos_ of the Fishguard-Rosslare route which, it was +mooted, was once more on the _tapis_ in the circumlocution departments +with the usual quantity of red tape and dillydallying of effete +fogeydom and dunderheads generally. A great opportunity there certainly +was for push and enterprise to meet the travelling needs of the public +at large, the average man, i.e. Brown, Robinson and Co. + +It was a subject of regret and absurd as well on the face of it and no +small blame to our vaunted society that the man in the street, when the +system really needed toning up, for the matter of a couple of paltry +pounds was debarred from seeing more of the world they lived in instead +of being always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-the-mud took +me for a wife. After all, hang it, they had their eleven and more +humdrum months of it and merited a radical change of _venue_ after the +grind of city life in the summertime for choice when dame Nature is at +her spectacular best constituting nothing short of a new lease of life. +There were equally excellent opportunities for vacationists in the home +island, delightful sylvan spots for rejuvenation, offering a plethora +of attractions as well as a bracing tonic for the system in and around +Dublin and its picturesque environs even, Poulaphouca to which there +was a steamtram, but also farther away from the madding crowd in +Wicklow, rightly termed the garden of Ireland, an ideal neighbourhood +for elderly wheelmen so long as it didn’t come down, and in the wilds +of Donegal where if report spoke true the _coup d’œil_ was exceedingly +grand though the lastnamed locality was not easily getatable so that +the influx of visitors was not as yet all that it might be considering +the signal benefits to be derived from it while Howth with its historic +associations and otherwise, Silken Thomas, Grace O’Malley, George IV, +rhododendrons several hundred feet above sealevel was a favourite haunt +with all sorts and conditions of men especially in the spring when +young men’s fancy, though it had its own toll of deaths by falling off +the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the way, on their +left leg, it being only about three quarters of an hour’s run from the +pillar. Because of course uptodate tourist travelling was as yet merely +in its infancy, so to speak, and the accommodation left much to be +desired. Interesting to fathom it seemed to him from a motive of +curiosity, pure and simple, was whether it was the traffic that created +the route or viceversa or the two sides in fact. He turned back the +other side of the card, picture, and passed it along to Stephen. + +—I seen a Chinese one time, related the doughty narrator, that had +little pills like putty and he put them in the water and they opened +and every pill was something different. One was a ship, another was a +house, another was a flower. Cooks rats in your soup, he appetisingly +added, the chinks does. + +Possibly perceiving an expression of dubiosity on their faces the +globetrotter went on, adhering to his adventures. + +—And I seen a man killed in Trieste by an Italian chap. Knife in his +back. Knife like that. + +Whilst speaking he produced a dangerouslooking claspknife quite in +keeping with his character and held it in the striking position. + +—In a knockingshop it was count of a tryon between two smugglers. +Fellow hid behind a door, come up behind him. Like that. _Prepare to +meet your God_, says he. Chuk! It went into his back up to the butt. + +His heavy glance drowsily roaming about kind of defied their further +questions even should they by any chance want to. + +—That’s a good bit of steel, repeated he, examining his formidable +_stiletto_. + +After which harrowing _dénouement_ sufficient to appal the stoutest he +snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question away as before +in his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket. + +—They’re great for the cold steel, somebody who was evidently quite in +the dark said for the benefit of them all. That was why they thought +the park murders of the invincibles was done by foreigners on account +of them using knives. + +At this remark passed obviously in the spirit of _where ignorance is +bliss_ Mr B. and Stephen, each in his own particular way, both +instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in a religious silence of the +strictly _entre nous_ variety however, towards where Skin-the-Goat, +_alias_ the keeper, not turning a hair, was drawing spurts of liquid +from his boiler affair. His inscrutable face which was really a work of +art, a perfect study in itself, beggaring description, conveyed the +impression that he didn’t understand one jot of what was going on. +Funny, very! + +There ensued a somewhat lengthy pause. One man was reading in fits and +starts a stained by coffee evening journal, another the card with the +natives _choza de_, another the seaman’s discharge. Mr Bloom, so far as +he was personally concerned, was just pondering in pensive mood. He +vividly recollected when the occurrence alluded to took place as well +as yesterday, roughly some score of years previously in the days of the +land troubles, when it took the civilised world by storm, figuratively +speaking, early in the eighties, eightyone to be correct, when he was +just turned fifteen. + +—Ay, boss, the sailor broke in. Give us back them papers. + +The request being complied with he clawed them up with a scrape. + +—Have you seen the rock of Gibraltar? Mr Bloom inquired. + +The sailor grimaced, chewing, in a way that might be read as yes, ay or +no. + +—Ah, you’ve touched there too, Mr Bloom said, Europa point, thinking he +had, in the hope that the rover might possibly by some reminiscences +but he failed to do so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the +sawdust, and shook his head with a sort of lazy scorn. + +—What year would that be about? Mr B interrogated. Can you recall the +boats? + +Our _soi-disant_ sailor munched heavily awhile hungrily before +answering: + +—I’m tired of all them rocks in the sea, he said, and boats and ships. +Salt junk all the time. + +Tired seemingly, he ceased. His questioner perceiving that he was not +likely to get a great deal of change out of such a wily old customer, +fell to woolgathering on the enormous dimensions of the water about the +globe, suffice it to say that, as a casual glance at the map revealed, +it covered fully three fourths of it and he fully realised accordingly +what it meant to rule the waves. On more than one occasion, a dozen at +the lowest, near the North Bull at Dollymount he had remarked a +superannuated old salt, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the +not particularly redolent sea on the wall, staring quite obliviously at +it and it at him, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new as someone +somewhere sings. And it left him wondering why. Possibly he had tried +to find out the secret for himself, floundering up and down the +antipodes and all that sort of thing and over and under, well, not +exactly under, tempting the fates. And the odds were twenty to nil +there was really no secret about it at all. Nevertheless, without going +into the _minutiae_ of the business, the eloquent fact remained that +the sea was there in all its glory and in the natural course of things +somebody or other had to sail on it and fly in the face of providence +though it merely went to show how people usually contrived to load that +sort of onus on to the other fellow like the hell idea and the lottery +and insurance which were run on identically the same lines so that for +that very reason if no other lifeboat Sunday was a highly laudable +institution to which the public at large, no matter where living inland +or seaside, as the case might be, having it brought home to them like +that should extend its gratitude also to the harbourmasters and +coastguard service who had to man the rigging and push off and out amid +the elements whatever the season when duty called _Ireland expects that +every man_ and so on and sometimes had a terrible time of it in the +wintertime not forgetting the Irish lights, Kish and others, liable to +capsize at any moment, rounding which he once with his daughter had +experienced some remarkably choppy, not to say stormy, weather. + +—There was a fellow sailed with me in the _Rover_, the old seadog, +himself a rover, proceeded, went ashore and took up a soft job as +gentleman’s valet at six quid a month. Them are his trousers I’ve on me +and he gave me an oilskin and that jackknife. I’m game for that job, +shaving and brushup. I hate roaming about. There’s my son now, Danny, +run off to sea and his mother got him took in a draper’s in Cork where +he could be drawing easy money. + +—What age is he? queried one hearer who, by the way, seen from the +side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, the townclerk, away +from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course and in a seedy +getup and a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the nasal appendage. + +—Why, the sailor answered with a slow puzzled utterance, my son, Danny? +He’d be about eighteen now, way I figure it. + +The Skibbereen father hereupon tore open his grey or unclean anyhow +shirt with his two hands and scratched away at his chest on which was +to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent +an anchor. + +—There was lice in that bunk in Bridgwater, he remarked, sure as nuts. +I must get a wash tomorrow or next day. It’s them black lads I objects +to. I hate those buggers. Suck your blood dry, they does. + +Seeing they were all looking at his chest he accommodatingly dragged +his shirt more open so that on top of the timehonoured symbol of the +mariner’s hope and rest they had a full view of the figure 16 and a +young man’s sideface looking frowningly rather. + +—Tattoo, the exhibitor explained. That was done when we were lying +becalmed off Odessa in the Black Sea under Captain Dalton. Fellow, the +name of Antonio, done that. There he is himself, a Greek. + +—Did it hurt much doing it? one asked the sailor. + +That worthy, however, was busily engaged in collecting round the. +Someway in his. Squeezing or. + +—See here, he said, showing Antonio. There he is cursing the mate. And +there he is now, he added, the same fellow, pulling the skin with his +fingers, some special knack evidently, and he laughing at a yarn. + +And in point of fact the young man named Antonio’s livid face did +actually look like forced smiling and the curious effect excited the +unreserved admiration of everybody including Skin-the-Goat, who this +time stretched over. + +—Ay, ay, sighed the sailor, looking down on his manly chest. He’s gone +too. Ate by sharks after. Ay, ay. + +He let go of the skin so that the profile resumed the normal expression +of before. + +—Neat bit of work, one longshoreman said. + +—And what’s the number for? loafer number two queried. + +—Eaten alive? a third asked the sailor. + +—Ay, ay, sighed again the latter personage, more cheerily this time +with some sort of a half smile for a brief duration only in the +direction of the questioner about the number. Ate. A Greek he was. + +And then he added with rather gallowsbird humour considering his +alleged end: + + —As bad as old Antonio, + For he left me on my ownio. + +The face of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a black straw hat +peered askew round the door of the shelter palpably reconnoitring on +her own with the object of bringing more grist to her mill. Mr Bloom, +scarcely knowing which way to look, turned away on the moment +flusterfied but outwardly calm, and, picking up from the table the pink +sheet of the Abbey street organ which the jarvey, if such he was, had +laid aside, he picked it up and looked at the pink of the paper though +why pink. His reason for so doing was he recognised on the moment round +the door the same face he had caught a fleeting glimpse of that +afternoon on Ormond quay, the partially idiotic female, namely, of the +lane who knew the lady in the brown costume does be with you (Mrs B.) +and begged the chance of his washing. Also why washing which seemed +rather vague than not, your washing. Still candour compelled him to +admit he had washed his wife’s undergarments when soiled in Holles +street and women would and did too a man’s similar garments initialled +with Bewley and Draper’s marking ink (hers were, that is) if they +really loved him, that is to say, love me, love my dirty shirt. Still +just then, being on tenterhooks, he desired the female’s room more than +her company so it came as a genuine relief when the keeper made her a +rude sign to take herself off. Round the side of the _Evening +Telegraph_ he just caught a fleeting glimpse of her face round the side +of the door with a kind of demented glassy grin showing that she was +not exactly all there, viewing with evident amusement the group of +gazers round skipper Murphy’s nautical chest and then there was no more +of her. + +—The gunboat, the keeper said. + +—It beats me, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, medically I am speaking, +how a wretched creature like that from the Lock hospital reeking with +disease can be barefaced enough to solicit or how any man in his sober +senses, if he values his health in the least. Unfortunate creature! Of +course I suppose some man is ultimately responsible for her condition. +Still no matter what the cause is from... + +Stephen had not noticed her and shrugged his shoulders, merely +remarking: + +—In this country people sell much more than she ever had and do a +roaring trade. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to +buy the soul. She is a bad merchant. She buys dear and sells cheap. + +The elder man, though not by any manner of means an old maid or a +prude, said it was nothing short of a crying scandal that ought to be +put a stop to _instanter_ to say that women of that stamp (quite apart +from any oldmaidish squeamishness on the subject), a necessary evil, +were not licensed and medically inspected by the proper authorities, a +thing, he could truthfully state, he, as a _paterfamilias_, was a +stalwart advocate of from the very first start. Whoever embarked on a +policy of the sort, he said, and ventilated the matter thoroughly would +confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. + +—You as a good catholic, he observed, talking of body and soul, believe +in the soul. Or do you mean the intelligence, the brainpower as such, +as distinct from any outside object, the table, let us say, that cup. I +believe in that myself because it has been explained by competent men +as the convolutions of the grey matter. Otherwise we would never have +such inventions as X rays, for instance. Do you? + +Thus cornered, Stephen had to make a superhuman effort of memory to try +and concentrate and remember before he could say: + +—They tell me on the best authority it is a simple substance and +therefore incorruptible. It would be immortal, I understand, but for +the possibility of its annihilation by its First Cause Who, from all I +can hear, is quite capable of adding that to the number of His other +practical jokes, _corruptio per se_ and _corruptio per accidens_ both +being excluded by court etiquette. + +Mr Bloom thoroughly acquiesced in the general gist of this though the +mystical finesse involved was a bit out of his sublunary depth still he +felt bound to enter a demurrer on the head of simple, promptly +rejoining: + +—Simple? I shouldn’t think that is the proper word. Of course, I grant +you, to concede a point, you do knock across a simple soul once in a +blue moon. But what I am anxious to arrive at is it is one thing for +instance to invent those rays Röntgen did or the telescope like Edison, +though I believe it was before his time Galileo was the man, I mean, +and the same applies to the laws, for example, of a farreaching natural +phenomenon such as electricity but it’s a horse of quite another colour +to say you believe in the existence of a supernatural God. + +—O that, Stephen expostulated, has been proved conclusively by several +of the bestknown passages in Holy Writ, apart from circumstantial +evidence. + +On this knotty point however the views of the pair, poles apart as they +were both in schooling and everything else with the marked difference +in their respective ages, clashed. + +—Has been? the more experienced of the two objected, sticking to his +original point with a smile of unbelief. I’m not so sure about that. +That’s a matter for everyman’s opinion and, without dragging in the +sectarian side of the business, I beg to differ with you _in toto_ +there. My belief is, to tell you the candid truth, that those bits were +genuine forgeries all of them put in by monks most probably or it’s the +big question of our national poet over again, who precisely wrote them +like _Hamlet_ and Bacon, as, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely +better than I, of course I needn’t tell you. Can’t you drink that +coffee, by the way? Let me stir it. And take a piece of that bun. It’s +like one of our skipper’s bricks disguised. Still no-one can give what +he hasn’t got. Try a bit. + +—Couldn’t, Stephen contrived to get out, his mental organs for the +moment refusing to dictate further. + +Faultfinding being a proverbially bad hat Mr Bloom thought well to stir +or try to the clotted sugar from the bottom and reflected with +something approaching acrimony on the Coffee Palace and its temperance +(and lucrative) work. To be sure it was a legitimate object and beyond +yea or nay did a world of good, shelters such as the present one they +were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night, concerts, dramatic +evenings and useful lectures (admittance free) by qualified men for the +lower orders. On the other hand he had a distinct and painful +recollection they paid his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy who had been +prominently associated with it at one time, a very modest remuneration +indeed for her pianoplaying. The idea, he was strongly inclined to +believe, was to do good and net a profit, there being no competition to +speak of. Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something in some dried peas +he remembered reading of in a cheap eatinghouse somewhere but he +couldn’t remember when it was or where. Anyhow inspection, medical +inspection, of all eatables seemed to him more than ever necessary +which possibly accounted for the vogue of Dr Tibble’s Vi-Cocoa on +account of the medical analysis involved. + +—Have a shot at it now, he ventured to say of the coffee after being +stirred. + +Thus prevailed on to at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug +from the brown puddle it clopped out of when taken up by the handle and +took a sip of the offending beverage. + +—Still it’s solid food, his good genius urged, I’m a stickler for solid +food, his one and only reason being not gormandising in the least but +regular meals as the _sine qua non_ for any kind of proper work, mental +or manual. You ought to eat more solid food. You would feel a different +man. + +—Liquids I can eat, Stephen said. But O, oblige me by taking away that +knife. I can’t look at the point of it. It reminds me of Roman history. + +Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated +article, a blunt hornhandled ordinary knife with nothing particularly +Roman or antique about it to the lay eye, observing that the point was +the least conspicuous point about it. + +—Our mutual friend’s stories are like himself, Mr Bloom _apropos_ of +knives remarked to his _confidante sotto voce_. Do you think they are +genuine? He could spin those yarns for hours on end all night long and +lie like old boots. Look at him. + +Yet still though his eyes were thick with sleep and sea air life was +full of a host of things and coincidences of a terrible nature and it +was quite within the bounds of possibility that it was not an entire +fabrication though at first blush there was not much inherent +probability in all the spoof he got off his chest being strictly +accurate gospel. + +He had been meantime taking stock of the individual in front of him and +Sherlockholmesing him up ever since he clapped eyes on him. Though a +wellpreserved man of no little stamina, if a trifle prone to baldness, +there was something spurious in the cut of his jib that suggested a +jail delivery and it required no violent stretch of imagination to +associate such a weirdlooking specimen with the oakum and treadmill +fraternity. He might even have done for his man supposing it was his +own case he told, as people often did about others, namely, that he +killed him himself and had served his four or five goodlooking years in +durance vile to say nothing of the Antonio personage (no relation to +the dramatic personage of identical name who sprang from the pen of our +national poet) who expiated his crimes in the melodramatic manner above +described. On the other hand he might be only bluffing, a pardonable +weakness because meeting unmistakable mugs, Dublin residents, like +those jarvies waiting news from abroad would tempt any ancient mariner +who sailed the ocean seas to draw the long bow about the schooner +_Hesperus_ and etcetera. And when all was said and done the lies a +fellow told about himself couldn’t probably hold a proverbial candle to +the wholesale whoppers other fellows coined about him. + +—Mind you, I’m not saying that it’s all a pure invention, he resumed. +Analogous scenes are occasionally, if not often, met with. Giants, +though that is rather a far cry, you see once in a way, Marcella the +midget queen. In those waxworks in Henry street I myself saw some +Aztecs, as they are called, sitting bowlegged, they couldn’t straighten +their legs if you paid them because the muscles here, you see, he +proceeded, indicating on his companion the brief outline of the sinews +or whatever you like to call them behind the right knee, were utterly +powerless from sitting that way so long cramped up, being adored as +gods. There’s an example again of simple souls. + +However reverting to friend Sinbad and his horrifying adventures (who +reminded him a bit of Ludwig, _alias_ Ledwidge, when he occupied the +boards of the Gaiety when Michael Gunn was identified with the +management in the _Flying Dutchman_, a stupendous success, and his host +of admirers came in large numbers, everyone simply flocking to hear him +though ships of any sort, phantom or the reverse, on the stage usually +fell a bit flat as also did trains) there was nothing intrinsically +incompatible about it, he conceded. On the contrary that stab in the +back touch was quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he +was none the less free to admit those icecreamers and friers in the +fish way not to mention the chip potato variety and so forth over in +little Italy there near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking +fellows except perhaps a bit too given to pothunting the harmless +necessary animal of the feline persuasion of others at night so as to +have a good old succulent tuckin with garlic _de rigueur_ off him or +her next day on the quiet and, he added, on the cheap. + +—Spaniards, for instance, he continued, passionate temperaments like +that, impetuous as Old Nick, are given to taking the law into their own +hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those poignards they +carry in the abdomen. It comes from the great heat, climate generally. +My wife is, so to speak, Spanish, half that is. Point of fact she could +actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having been born in +(technically) Spain, i.e. Gibraltar. She has the Spanish type. Quite +dark, regular brunette, black. I for one certainly believe climate +accounts for character. That’s why I asked you if you wrote your poetry +in Italian. + +—The temperaments at the door, Stephen interposed with, were very +passionate about ten shillings. _Roberto ruba roba sua_. + +—Quite so, Mr Bloom dittoed. + +—Then, Stephen said staring and rambling on to himself or some unknown +listener somewhere, we have the impetuosity of Dante and the isosceles +triangle miss Portinari he fell in love with and Leonardo and san +Tommaso Mastino. + +—It’s in the blood, Mr Bloom acceded at once. All are washed in the +blood of the sun. Coincidence I just happened to be in the Kildare +street museum today, shortly prior to our meeting if I can so call it, +and I was just looking at those antique statues there. The splendid +proportions of hips, bosom. You simply don’t knock against those kind +of women here. An exception here and there. Handsome yes, pretty in a +way you find but what I’m talking about is the female form. Besides +they have so little taste in dress, most of them, which greatly +enhances a woman’s natural beauty, no matter what you say. Rumpled +stockings, it may be, possibly is, a foible of mine but still it’s a +thing I simply hate to see. + +Interest, however, was starting to flag somewhat all round and then the +others got on to talking about accidents at sea, ships lost in a fog, +collisions with icebergs, all that sort of thing. Shipahoy of course +had his own say to say. He had doubled the cape a few odd times and +weathered a monsoon, a kind of wind, in the China seas and through all +those perils of the deep there was one thing, he declared, stood to him +or words to that effect, a pious medal he had that saved him. + +So then after that they drifted on to the wreck off Daunt’s rock, wreck +of that illfated Norwegian barque nobody could think of her name for +the moment till the jarvey who had really quite a look of Henry +Campbell remembered it _Palme_ on Booterstown strand. That was the talk +of the town that year (Albert William Quill wrote a fine piece of +original verse of distinctive merit on the topic for the Irish +_Times_), breakers running over her and crowds and crowds on the shore +in commotion petrified with horror. Then someone said something about +the case of the s. s. _Lady Cairns_ of Swansea run into by the _Mona_ +which was on an opposite tack in rather muggyish weather and lost with +all hands on deck. No aid was given. Her master, the _Mona_’s, said he +was afraid his collision bulkhead would give way. She had no water, it +appears, in her hold. + +At this stage an incident happened. It having become necessary for him +to unfurl a reef the sailor vacated his seat. + +—Let me cross your bows mate, he said to his neighbour who was just +gently dropping off into a peaceful doze. + +He made tracks heavily, slowly with a dumpy sort of a gait to the door, +stepped heavily down the one step there was out of the shelter and bore +due left. While he was in the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom who +noticed when he stood up that he had two flasks of presumably ship’s +rum sticking one out of each pocket for the private consumption of his +burning interior, saw him produce a bottle and uncork it or unscrew +and, applying its nozzle to his lips, take a good old delectable swig +out of it with a gurgling noise. The irrepressible Bloom, who also had +a shrewd suspicion that the old stager went out on a manœuvre after the +counterattraction in the shape of a female who however had disappeared +to all intents and purposes, could by straining just perceive him, when +duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the piers and +girders of the Loop line rather out of his depth as of course it was +all radically altered since his last visit and greatly improved. Some +person or persons invisible directed him to the male urinal erected by +the cleansing committee all over the place for the purpose but after a +brief space of time during which silence reigned supreme the sailor, +evidently giving it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the +noise of his bilgewater some little time subsequently splashing on the +ground where it apparently awoke a horse of the cabrank. A hoof scooped +anyway for new foothold after sleep and harness jingled. Slightly +disturbed in his sentrybox by the brazier of live coke the watcher of +the corporation stones who, though now broken down and fast breaking +up, was none other in stern reality than the Gumley aforesaid, now +practically on the parish rates, given the temporary job by Pat Tobin +in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before +shifted about and shuffled in his box before composing his limbs again +in to the arms of Morpheus, a truly amazing piece of hard lines in its +most virulent form on a fellow most respectably connected and +familiarised with decent home comforts all his life who came in for a +cool £ 100 a year at one time which of course the doublebarrelled ass +proceeded to make general ducks and drakes of. And there he was at the +end of his tether after having often painted the town tolerably pink +without a beggarly stiver. He drank needless to be told and it pointed +only once more a moral when he might quite easily be in a large way of +business if—a big if, however—he had contrived to cure himself of his +particular partiality. + +All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off in Irish shipping, +coastwise and foreign as well, which was all part and parcel of the +same thing. A Palgrave Murphy boat was put off the ways at Alexandra +basin, the only launch that year. Right enough the harbours were there +only no ships ever called. + +There were wrecks and wreckers, the keeper said, who was evidently _au +fait_. + +What he wanted to ascertain was why that ship ran bang against the only +rock in Galway bay when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted by a Mr +Worthington or some name like that, eh? Ask the then captain, he +advised them, how much palmoil the British government gave him for that +day’s work, Captain John Lever of the Lever Line. + +—Am I right, skipper? he queried of the sailor, now returning after his +private potation and the rest of his exertions. + +That worthy picking up the scent of the fagend of the song or words +growled in wouldbe music but with great vim some kind of chanty or +other in seconds or thirds. Mr Bloom’s sharp ears heard him then +expectorate the plug probably (which it was), so that he must have +lodged it for the time being in his fist while he did the drinking and +making water jobs and found it a bit sour after the liquid fire in +question. Anyhow in he rolled after his successful +libation-_cum_-potation, introducing an atmosphere of drink into the +_soirée_, boisterously trolling, like a veritable son of a seacook: + + —The biscuits was as hard as brass + And the beef as salt as Lot’s wife’s arse. + O, Johnny Lever! + Johnny Lever, O! + +After which effusion the redoubtable specimen duly arrived on the scene +and regaining his seat he sank rather than sat heavily on the form +provided. Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was he, evidently with an axe to +grind, was airing his grievances in a forcible-feeble philippic anent +the natural resources of Ireland or something of that sort which he +described in his lengthy dissertation as the richest country bar none +on the face of God’s earth, far and away superior to England, with coal +in large quantities, six million pounds worth of pork exported every +year, ten millions between butter and eggs and all the riches drained +out of it by England levying taxes on the poor people that paid through +the nose always and gobbling up the best meat in the market and a lot +more surplus steam in the same vein. Their conversation accordingly +became general and all agreed that that was a fact. You could grow any +mortal thing in Irish soil, he stated, and there was that colonel +Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco. Where would you find +anywhere the like of Irish bacon? But a day of reckoning, he stated +_crescendo_ with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the +conversation, was in store for mighty England, despite her power of +pelf on account of her crimes. There would be a fall and the greatest +fall in history. The Germans and the Japs were going to have their +little lookin, he affirmed. The Boers were the beginning of the end. +Brummagem England was toppling already and her downfall would be +Ireland, her Achilles heel, which he explained to them about the +vulnerable point of Achilles, the Greek hero, a point his auditors at +once seized as he completely gripped their attention by showing the +tendon referred to on his boot. His advice to every Irishman was: stay +in the land of your birth and work for Ireland and live for Ireland. +Ireland, Parnell said, could not spare a single one of her sons. + +Silence all round marked the termination of his _finale_. The +impervious navigator heard these lurid tidings, undismayed. + +—Take a bit of doing, boss, retaliated that rough diamond palpably a +bit peeved in response to the foregoing truism. + +To which cold douche referring to downfall and so on the keeper +concurred but nevertheless held to his main view. + +—Who’s the best troops in the army? the grizzled old veteran irately +interrogated. And the best jumpers and racers? And the best admirals +and generals we’ve got? Tell me that. + +—The Irish, for choice, retorted the cabby like Campbell, facial +blemishes apart. + +—That’s right, the old tarpaulin corroborated. The Irish catholic +peasant. He’s the backbone of our empire. You know Jem Mullins? + +While allowing him his individual opinions as everyman the keeper added +he cared nothing for any empire, ours or his, and considered no +Irishman worthy of his salt that served it. Then they began to have a +few irascible words when it waxed hotter, both, needless to say, +appealing to the listeners who followed the passage of arms with +interest so long as they didn’t indulge in recriminations and come to +blows. + +From inside information extending over a series of years Mr Bloom was +rather inclined to poohpooh the suggestion as egregious balderdash for, +pending that consummation devoutly to be or not to be wished for, he +was fully cognisant of the fact that their neighbours across the +channel, unless they were much bigger fools than he took them for, +rather concealed their strength than the opposite. It was quite on a +par with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in a hundred +million years the coal seam of the sister island would be played out +and if, as time went on, that turned out to be how the cat jumped all +he could personally say on the matter was that as a host of +contingencies, equally relevant to the issue, might occur ere then it +was highly advisable in the interim to try to make the most of both +countries even though poles apart. Another little interesting point, +the amours of whores and chummies, to put it in common parlance, +reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against +her, more so, in fact. And now, why? So the scene between the pair of +them, the licensee of the place rumoured to be or have been Fitzharris, +the famous invincible, and the other, obviously bogus, reminded him +forcibly as being on all fours with the confidence trick, supposing, +that is, it was prearranged as the lookeron, a student of the human +soul if anything, the others seeing least of the game. And as for the +lessee or keeper, who probably wasn’t the other person at all, he (B.) +couldn’t help feeling and most properly it was better to give people +like that the goby unless you were a blithering idiot altogether and +refuse to have anything to do with them as a golden rule in private +life and their felonsetting, there always being the offchance of a +Dannyman coming forward and turning queen’s evidence or king’s now like +Denis or Peter Carey, an idea he utterly repudiated. Quite apart from +that he disliked those careers of wrongdoing and crime on principle. +Yet, though such criminal propensities had never been an inmate of his +bosom in any shape or form, he certainly did feel and no denying it +(while inwardly remaining what he was) a certain kind of admiration for +a man who had actually brandished a knife, cold steel, with the courage +of his political convictions (though, personally, he would never be a +party to any such thing), off the same bat as those love vendettas of +the south, have her or swing for her, when the husband frequently, +after some words passed between the two concerning her relations with +the other lucky mortal (he having had the pair watched), inflicted +fatal injuries on his adored one as a result of an alternative +postnuptial _liaison_ by plunging his knife into her, until it just +struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, merely drove the car for +the actual perpetrators of the outrage and so was not, if he was +reliably informed, actually party to the ambush which, in point of +fact, was the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on. In any case +that was very ancient history by now and as for our friend, the pseudo +Skin-the-etcetera, he had transparently outlived his welcome. He ought +to have either died naturally or on the scaffold high. Like actresses, +always farewell positively last performance then come up smiling again. +Generous to a fault of course, temperamental, no economising or any +idea of the sort, always snapping at the bone for the shadow. So +similarly he had a very shrewd suspicion that Mr Johnny Lever got rid +of some £. s. d. in the course of his perambulations round the docks in +the congenial atmosphere of the _Old Ireland_ tavern, come back to Erin +and so on. Then as for the other he had heard not so long before the +same identical lingo as he told Stephen how he simply but effectually +silenced the offender. + +—He took umbrage at something or other, that muchinjured but on the +whole eventempered person declared, I let slip. He called me a jew and +in a heated fashion offensively. So I without deviating from plain +facts in the least told him his God, I mean Christ, was a jew too and +all his family like me though in reality I’m not. That was one for him. +A soft answer turns away wrath. He hadn’t a word to say for himself as +everyone saw. Am I not right? + +He turned a long you are wrong gaze on Stephen of timorous dark pride +at the soft impeachment with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to +glean in a kind of a way that it wasn’t all exactly. + +—_Ex quibus_, Stephen mumbled in a noncommittal accent, their two or +four eyes conversing, _Christus_ or Bloom his name is or after all any +other, _secundum carnem_. + +—Of course, Mr B. proceeded to stipulate, you must look at both sides +of the question. It is hard to lay down any hard and fast rules as to +right and wrong but room for improvement all round there certainly is +though every country, they say, our own distressful included, has the +government it deserves. But with a little goodwill all round. It’s all +very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual +equality. I resent violence and intolerance in any shape or form. It +never reaches anything or stops anything. A revolution must come on the +due instalments plan. It’s a patent absurdity on the face of it to hate +people because they live round the corner and speak another vernacular, +in the next house so to speak. + +—Memorable bloody bridge battle and seven minutes’ war, Stephen +assented, between Skinner’s alley and Ormond market. + +Yes, Mr Bloom thoroughly agreed, entirely endorsing the remark, that +was overwhelmingly right. And the whole world was full of that sort of +thing. + +—You just took the words out of my mouth, he said. A hocuspocus of +conflicting evidence that candidly you couldn’t remotely... + +All those wretched quarrels, in his humble opinion, stirring up bad +blood, from some bump of combativeness or gland of some kind, +erroneously supposed to be about a punctilio of honour and a flag, were +very largely a question of the money question which was at the back of +everything, greed and jealousy, people never knowing when to stop. + +—They accuse, remarked he audibly. He turned away from the others, who +probably… and spoke nearer to, so as the others… in case they… + +—Jews, he softly imparted in an aside in Stephen’s ear, are accused of +ruining. Not a vestige of truth in it, I can safely say. History, would +you be surprised to learn, proves up to the hilt Spain decayed when the +inquisition hounded the jews out and England prospered when Cromwell, +an uncommonly able ruffian who in other respects has much to answer +for, imported them. Why? Because they are imbued with the proper +spirit. They are practical and are proved to be so. I don’t want to +indulge in any because you know the standard works on the subject and +then orthodox as you are. But in the economic, not touching religion, +domain the priest spells poverty. Spain again, you saw in the war, +compared with goahead America. Turks. It’s in the dogma. Because if +they didn’t believe they’d go straight to heaven when they die they’d +try to live better, at least so I think. That’s the juggle on which the +p.p.’s raise the wind on false pretences. I’m, he resumed with dramatic +force, as good an Irishman as that rude person I told you about at the +outset and I want to see everyone, concluded he, all creeds and classes +_pro rata_ having a comfortable tidysized income, in no niggard fashion +either, something in the neighbourhood of £ 300 per annum. That’s the +vital issue at stake and it’s feasible and would be provocative of +friendlier intercourse between man and man. At least that’s my idea for +what it’s worth. I call that patriotism. _Ubi patria_, as we learned a +smattering of in our classical days in _Alma Mater, vita bene_. Where +you can live well, the sense is, if you work. + +Over his untastable apology for a cup of coffee, listening to this +synopsis of things in general, Stephen stared at nothing in particular. +He could hear, of course, all kinds of words changing colour like those +crabs about Ringsend in the morning burrowing quickly into all colours +of different sorts of the same sand where they had a home somewhere +beneath or seemed to. Then he looked up and saw the eyes that said or +didn’t say the words the voice he heard said, if you work. + +—Count me out, he managed to remark, meaning work. + +The eyes were surprised at this observation because as he, the person +who owned them pro tem. observed or rather his voice speaking did, all +must work, have to, together. + +—I mean, of course, the other hastened to affirm, work in the widest +possible sense. Also literary labour not merely for the kudos of the +thing. Writing for the newspapers which is the readiest channel +nowadays. That’s work too. Important work. After all, from the little I +know of you, after all the money expended on your education you are +entitled to recoup yourself and command your price. You have every bit +as much right to live by your pen in pursuit of your philosophy as the +peasant has. What? You both belong to Ireland, the brain and the brawn. +Each is equally important. + +—You suspect, Stephen retorted with a sort of a half laugh, that I may +be important because I belong to the _faubourg Saint Patrice_ called +Ireland for short. + +—I would go a step farther, Mr Bloom insinuated. + +—But I suspect, Stephen interrupted, that Ireland must be important +because it belongs to me. + +—What belongs, queried Mr Bloom bending, fancying he was perhaps under +some misapprehension. Excuse me. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch the +latter portion. What was it you...? + +Stephen, patently crosstempered, repeated and shoved aside his mug of +coffee or whatever you like to call it none too politely, adding: + +—We can’t change the country. Let us change the subject. + +At this pertinent suggestion Mr Bloom, to change the subject, looked +down but in a quandary, as he couldn’t tell exactly what construction +to put on belongs to which sounded rather a far cry. The rebuke of some +kind was clearer than the other part. Needless to say the fumes of his +recent orgy spoke then with some asperity in a curious bitter way +foreign to his sober state. Probably the homelife to which Mr B +attached the utmost importance had not been all that was needful or he +hadn’t been familiarised with the right sort of people. With a touch of +fear for the young man beside him whom he furtively scrutinised with an +air of some consternation remembering he had just come back from Paris, +the eyes more especially reminding him forcibly of father and sister, +failing to throw much light on the subject, however, he brought to mind +instances of cultured fellows that promised so brilliantly nipped in +the bud of premature decay and nobody to blame but themselves. For +instance there was the case of O’Callaghan, for one, the halfcrazy +faddist, respectably connected though of inadequate means, with his mad +vagaries among whose other gay doings when rotto and making himself a +nuisance to everybody all round he was in the habit of ostentatiously +sporting in public a suit of brown paper (a fact). And then the usual +_dénouement_ after the fun had gone on fast and furious he got landed +into hot water and had to be spirited away by a few friends, after a +strong hint to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so +as not to be made amenable under section two of the criminal law +amendment act, certain names of those subpœnaed being handed in but not +divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a pick of brains. +Briefly, putting two and two together, six sixteen which he pointedly +turned a deaf ear to, Antonio and so forth, jockeys and esthetes and +the tattoo which was all the go in the seventies or thereabouts even in +the house of lords because early in life the occupant of the throne, +then heir apparent, the other members of the upper ten and other high +personages simply following in the footsteps of the head of the state, +he reflected about the errors of notorieties and crowned heads running +counter to morality such as the Cornwall case a number of years before +under their veneer in a way scarcely intended by nature, a thing good +Mrs Grundy, as the law stands, was terribly down on though not for the +reason they thought they were probably whatever it was except women +chiefly who were always fiddling more or less at one another it being +largely a matter of dress and all the rest of it. Ladies who like +distinctive underclothing should, and every welltailored man must, +trying to make the gap wider between them by innuendo and give more of +a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between the two, she unbuttoned +his and then he untied her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the +cannibal islands, say, at ninety degrees in the shade not caring a +continental. However, reverting to the original, there were on the +other hand others who had forced their way to the top from the lowest +rung by the aid of their bootstraps. Sheer force of natural genius, +that. With brains, sir. + +For which and further reasons he felt it was his interest and duty even +to wait on and profit by the unlookedfor occasion though why he could +not exactly tell being as it was already several shillings to the bad +having in fact let himself in for it. Still to cultivate the +acquaintance of someone of no uncommon calibre who could provide food +for reflection would amply repay any small. Intellectual stimulation, +as such, was, he felt, from time to time a firstrate tonic for the +mind. Added to which was the coincidence of meeting, discussion, dance, +row, old salt of the here today and gone tomorrow type, night loafers, +the whole galaxy of events, all went to make up a miniature cameo of +the world we live in especially as the lives of the submerged tenth, +viz. coalminers, divers, scavengers etc., were very much under the +microscope lately. To improve the shining hour he wondered whether he +might meet with anything approaching the same luck as Mr Philip Beaufoy +if taken down in writing suppose he were to pen something out of the +common groove (as he fully intended doing) at the rate of one guinea +per column. _My Experiences_, let us say, _in a Cabman’s Shelter_. + +The pink edition extra sporting of the _Telegraph_ tell a graphic lie +lay, as luck would have it, beside his elbow and as he was just +puzzling again, far from satisfied, over a country belonging to him and +the preceding rebus the vessel came from Bridgwater and the postcard +was addressed A. Boudin find the captain’s age, his eyes went aimlessly +over the respective captions which came under his special province the +allembracing give us this day our daily press. First he got a bit of a +start but it turned out to be only something about somebody named H. du +Boyes, agent for typewriters or something like that. Great battle, +Tokio. Lovemaking in Irish, £ 200 damages. Gordon Bennett. Emigration +Swindle. Letter from His Grace. William ✠. Ascot meeting, the Gold Cup. +Victory of outsider _Throwaway_ recalls Derby of ’92 when Capt. +Marshall’s dark horse _Sir Hugo_ captured the blue ribband at long +odds. New York disaster. Thousand lives lost. Foot and Mouth. Funeral +of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. + +So to change the subject he read about Dignam R. I. P. which, he +reflected, was anything but a gay sendoff. Or a change of address +anyway. + +—_This morning_ (Hynes put it in of course) _the remains of the late Mr +Patrick Dignam were removed from his residence, no 9 Newbridge Avenue, +Sandymount, for interment in Glasnevin. The deceased gentleman was a +most popular and genial personality in city life and his demise after a +brief illness came as a great shock to citizens of all classes by whom +he is deeply regretted. The obsequies, at which many friends of the +deceased were present, were carried out_ (certainly Hynes wrote it with +a nudge from Corny) _by Messrs H. J. O’Neill and Son, 164 North Strand +Road. The mourners included: Patk. Dignam (son), Bernard Corrigan +(brother-in-law), Jno. Henry Menton, solr, Martin Cunningham, John +Power, eatondph 1/8 ador dorador douradora_ (must be where he called +Monks the dayfather about Keyes’s ad) _Thomas Kernan, Simon Dedalus, +Stephen Dedalus B. A., Edw. J. Lambert, Cornelius T. Kelleher, Joseph +M’C Hynes, L. Boom, C P M’Coy,—M’Intosh and several others_. + +Nettled not a little by L. _Boom_ (as it incorrectly stated) and the +line of bitched type but tickled to death simultaneously by C. P. M’Coy +and Stephen Dedalus B. A. who were conspicuous, needless to say, by +their total absence (to say nothing of M’Intosh) L. Boom pointed it out +to his companion B. A. engaged in stifling another yawn, half +nervousness, not forgetting the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of +misprints. + +—Is that first epistle to the Hebrews, he asked as soon as his bottom +jaw would let him, in? Text: open thy mouth and put thy foot in it. + +—It is. Really, Mr Bloom said (though first he fancied he alluded to +the archbishop till he added about foot and mouth with which there +could be no possible connection) overjoyed to set his mind at rest and +a bit flabbergasted at Myles Crawford’s after all managing to. There. + +While the other was reading it on page two Boom (to give him for the +nonce his new misnomer) whiled away a few odd leisure moments in fits +and starts with the account of the third event at Ascot on page three, +his side. Value 1000 sovs with 3000 sovs in specie added. For entire +colts and fillies. Mr F. Alexander’s _Throwaway_, b. h. by +_Rightaway-Thrale_, 5 yrs, 9 st 4 lbs (W. Lane) 1. Lord Howard de +Walden’s _Zinfandel_ (M. Cannon) 2. Mr W. Bass’s _Sceptre_ 3. Betting 5 +to 4 on _Zinfandel_, 20 to 1 _Throwaway_ (off). _Sceptre_ a shade +heavier. It was anybody’s race then the rank outsider drew to the fore, +got long lead, beating Lord Howard de Walden’s chestnut colt and Mr W. +Bass’s bay filly Sceptre on a 2 1/2 mile course. Winner trained by +Braime so that Lenehan’s version of the business was all pure buncombe. +Secured the verdict cleverly by a length. 1000 sovs with 3000 in +specie. Also ran: J de Bremond’s (French horse Bantam Lyons was +anxiously inquiring after not in yet but expected any minute) _Maximum +II_. Different ways of bringing off a coup. Lovemaking damages. Though +that halfbaked Lyons ran off at a tangent in his impetuosity to get +left. Of course gambling eminently lent itself to that sort of thing +though as the event turned out the poor fool hadn’t much reason to +congratulate himself on his pick, the forlorn hope. Guesswork it +reduced itself to eventually. + +—There was every indication they would arrive at that, he, Bloom, said. + +—Who? the other, whose hand by the way was hurt, said. + +One morning you would open the paper, the cabman affirmed, and read: +_Return of Parnell_. He bet them what they liked. A Dublin fusilier was +in that shelter one night and said he saw him in South Africa. Pride it +was killed him. He ought to have done away with himself or lain low for +a time after committee room no 15 until he was his old self again with +no-one to point a finger at him. Then they would all to a man have gone +down on their marrowbones to him to come back when he had recovered his +senses. Dead he wasn’t. Simply absconded somewhere. The coffin they +brought over was full of stones. He changed his name to De Wet, the +Boer general. He made a mistake to fight the priests. And so forth and +so on. + +All the same Bloom (properly so dubbed) was rather surprised at their +memories for in nine cases out of ten it was a case of tarbarrels and +not singly but in their thousands and then complete oblivion because it +was twenty odd years. Highly unlikely of course there was even a shadow +of truth in the stones and, even supposing, he thought a return highly +inadvisable, all things considered. Something evidently riled them in +his death. Either he petered out too tamely of acute pneumonia just +when his various different political arrangements were nearing +completion or whether it transpired he owed his death to his having +neglected to change his boots and clothes after a wetting when a cold +resulted and failing to consult a specialist he being confined to his +room till he eventually died of it amid widespread regret before a +fortnight was at an end or quite possibly they were distressed to find +the job was taken out of their hands. Of course nobody being acquainted +with his movements even before there was absolutely no clue as to his +whereabouts which were decidedly of the _Alice, where art thou_ order +even prior to his starting to go under several aliases such as Fox and +Stewart so the remark which emanated from friend cabby might be within +the bounds of possibility. Naturally then it would prey on his mind as +a born leader of men which undoubtedly he was and a commanding figure, +a sixfooter or at any rate five feet ten or eleven in his stockinged +feet, whereas Messrs So and So who, though they weren’t even a patch on +the former man, ruled the roost after their redeeming features were +very few and far between. It certainly pointed a moral, the idol with +feet of clay, and then seventytwo of his trusty henchmen rounding on +him with mutual mudslinging. And the identical same with murderers. You +had to come back. That haunting sense kind of drew you. To show the +understudy in the title _rôle_ how to. He saw him once on the +auspicious occasion when they broke up the type in the _Insuppressible_ +or was it _United Ireland_, a privilege he keenly appreciated, and, in +point of fact, handed him his silk hat when it was knocked off and he +said _Thank you_, excited as he undoubtedly was under his frigid +exterior notwithstanding the little misadventure mentioned between the +cup and the lip: what’s bred in the bone. Still as regards return. You +were a lucky dog if they didn’t set the terrier at you directly you got +back. Then a lot of shillyshally usually followed, Tom for and Dick and +Harry against. And then, number one, you came up against the man in +possession and had to produce your credentials like the claimant in the +Tichborne case, Roger Charles Tichborne, _Bella_ was the boat’s name to +the best of his recollection he, the heir, went down in as the evidence +went to show and there was a tattoo mark too in Indian ink, lord Bellew +was it, as he might very easily have picked up the details from some +pal on board ship and then, when got up to tally with the description +given, introduce himself with: _Excuse me, my name is So and So_ or +some such commonplace remark. A more prudent course, as Bloom said to +the not over effusive, in fact like the distinguished personage under +discussion beside him, would have been to sound the lie of the land +first. + +—That bitch, that English whore, did for him, the shebeen proprietor +commented. She put the first nail in his coffin. + +—Fine lump of a woman all the same, the _soi-disant_ townclerk Henry +Campbell remarked, and plenty of her. She loosened many a man’s thighs. +I seen her picture in a barber’s. The husband was a captain or an +officer. + +—Ay, Skin-the-Goat amusingly added, he was and a cottonball one. + +This gratuitous contribution of a humorous character occasioned a fair +amount of laughter among his _entourage_. As regards Bloom he, without +the faintest suspicion of a smile, merely gazed in the direction of the +door and reflected upon the historic story which had aroused +extraordinary interest at the time when the facts, to make matters +worse, were made public with the usual affectionate letters that passed +between them full of sweet nothings. First it was strictly Platonic +till nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between them till +bit by bit matters came to a climax and the matter became the talk of +the town till the staggering blow came as a welcome intelligence to not +a few evildisposed, however, who were resolved upon encompassing his +downfall though the thing was public property all along though not to +anything like the sensational extent that it subsequently blossomed +into. Since their names were coupled, though, since he was her declared +favourite, where was the particular necessity to proclaim it to the +rank and file from the housetops, the fact, namely, that he had shared +her bedroom which came out in the witnessbox on oath when a thrill went +through the packed court literally electrifying everybody in the shape +of witnesses swearing to having witnessed him on such and such a +particular date in the act of scrambling out of an upstairs apartment +with the assistance of a ladder in night apparel, having gained +admittance in the same fashion, a fact the weeklies, addicted to the +lubric a little, simply coined shoals of money out of. Whereas the +simple fact of the case was it was simply a case of the husband not +being up to the scratch, with nothing in common between them beyond the +name, and then a real man arriving on the scene, strong to the verge of +weakness, falling a victim to her siren charms and forgetting home +ties, the usual sequel, to bask in the loved one’s smiles. The eternal +question of the life connubial, needless to say, cropped up. Can real +love, supposing there happens to be another chap in the case, exist +between married folk? Poser. Though it was no concern of theirs +absolutely if he regarded her with affection, carried away by a wave of +folly. A magnificent specimen of manhood he was truly augmented +obviously by gifts of a high order, as compared with the other military +supernumerary that is (who was just the usual everyday _farewell, my +gallant captain_ kind of an individual in the light dragoons, the 18th +hussars to be accurate) and inflammable doubtless (the fallen leader, +that is, not the other) in his own peculiar way which she of course, +woman, quickly perceived as highly likely to carve his way to fame +which he almost bid fair to do till the priests and ministers of the +gospel as a whole, his erstwhile staunch adherents, and his beloved +evicted tenants for whom he had done yeoman service in the rural parts +of the country by taking up the cudgels on their behalf in a way that +exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very effectually cooked his +matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his head much in +the same way as the fabled ass’s kick. Looking back now in a +retrospective kind of arrangement all seemed a kind of dream. And then +coming back was the worst thing you ever did because it went without +saying you would feel out of place as things always moved with the +times. Why, as he reflected, Irishtown strand, a locality he had not +been in for quite a number of years looked different somehow since, as +it happened, he went to reside on the north side. North or south, +however, it was just the wellknown case of hot passion, pure and +simple, upsetting the applecart with a vengeance and just bore out the +very thing he was saying as she also was Spanish or half so, types that +wouldn’t do things by halves, passionate abandon of the south, casting +every shred of decency to the winds. + +—Just bears out what I was saying, he, with glowing bosom said to +Stephen, about blood and the sun. And, if I don’t greatly mistake she +was Spanish too. + +—The king of Spain’s daughter, Stephen answered, adding something or +other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and +the first land called the Deadman and from Ramhead to Scilly was so and +so many. + +—Was she? Bloom ejaculated, surprised though not astonished by any +means, I never heard that rumour before. Possible, especially there, it +was as she lived there. So, Spain. + +Carefully avoiding a book in his pocket _Sweets of_, which reminded him +by the by of that Capel street library book out of date, he took out +his pocketbook and, turning over the various contents it contained +rapidly finally he. + +—Do you consider, by the by, he said, thoughtfully selecting a faded +photo which he laid on the table, that a Spanish type? + +Stephen, obviously addressed, looked down on the photo showing a large +sized lady with her fleshy charms on evidence in an open fashion as she +was in the full bloom of womanhood in evening dress cut ostentatiously +low for the occasion to give a liberal display of bosom, with more than +vision of breasts, her full lips parted and some perfect teeth, +standing near, ostensibly with gravity, a piano on the rest of which +was _In Old Madrid_, a ballad, pretty in its way, which was then all +the vogue. Her (the lady’s) eyes, dark, large, looked at Stephen, about +to smile about something to be admired, Lafayette of Westmoreland +street, Dublin’s premier photographic artist, being responsible for the +esthetic execution. + +—Mrs Bloom, my wife the _prima donna_ Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom +indicated. Taken a few years since. In or about ninety six. Very like +her then. + +Beside the young man he looked also at the photo of the lady now his +legal wife who, he intimated, was the accomplished daughter of Major +Brian Tweedy and displayed at an early age remarkable proficiency as a +singer having even made her bow to the public when her years numbered +barely sweet sixteen. As for the face it was a speaking likeness in +expression but it did not do justice to her figure which came in for a +lot of notice usually and which did not come out to the best advantage +in that getup. She could without difficulty, he said, have posed for +the ensemble, not to dwell on certain opulent curves of the. He dwelt, +being a bit of an artist in his spare time, on the female form in +general developmentally because, as it so happened, no later than that +afternoon he had seen those Grecian statues, perfectly developed as +works of art, in the National Museum. Marble could give the original, +shoulders, back, all the symmetry, all the rest. Yes, puritanisme, it +does though, Saint Joseph’s sovereign thievery alors (Bandez!) Figne +toi trop. Whereas no photo could because it simply wasn’t art in a +word. + +The spirit moving him he would much have liked to follow Jack Tar’s +good example and leave the likeness there for a very few minutes to +speak for itself on the plea he so that the other could drink in the +beauty for himself, her stage presence being, frankly, a treat in +itself which the camera could not at all do justice to. But it was +scarcely professional etiquette so. Though it was a warm pleasant sort +of a night now yet wonderfully cool for the season considering, for +sunshine after storm. And he did feel a kind of need there and then to +follow suit like a kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by +moving a motion. Nevertheless he sat tight just viewing the slightly +soiled photo creased by opulent curves, none the worse for wear +however, and looked away thoughtfully with the intention of not further +increasing the other’s possible embarrassment while gauging her +symmetry of heaving _embonpoint_. In fact the slight soiling was only +an added charm like the case of linen slightly soiled, good as new, +much better in fact with the starch out. Suppose she was gone when he? +I looked for the lamp which she told me came into his mind but merely +as a passing fancy of his because he then recollected the morning +littered bed etcetera and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses +(_sic_) in it which must have fell down sufficiently appropriately +beside the domestic chamberpot with apologies to Lindley Murray. + +The vicinity of the young man he certainly relished, educated, +_distingué_ and impulsive into the bargain, far and away the pick of +the bunch though you wouldn’t think he had it in him yet you would. +Besides he said the picture was handsome which, say what you like, it +was though at the moment she was distinctly stouter. And why not? An +awful lot of makebelieve went on about that sort of thing involving a +lifelong slur with the usual splash page of gutterpress about the same +old matrimonial tangle alleging misconduct with professional golfer or +the newest stage favourite instead of being honest and aboveboard about +the whole business. How they were fated to meet and an attachment +sprang up between the two so that their names were coupled in the +public eye was told in court with letters containing the habitual mushy +and compromising expressions leaving no loophole to show that they +openly cohabited two or three times a week at some wellknown seaside +hotel and relations, when the thing ran its normal course, became in +due course intimate. Then the decree _nisi_ and the King’s proctor +tries to show cause why and, he failing to quash it, _nisi_ was made +absolute. But as for that the two misdemeanants, wrapped up as they +largely were in one another, could safely afford to ignore it as they +very largely did till the matter was put in the hands of a solicitor +who filed a petition for the party wronged in due course. He, B, +enjoyed the distinction of being close to Erin’s uncrowned king in the +flesh when the thing occurred on the historic _fracas_ when the fallen +leader’s, who notoriously stuck to his guns to the last drop even when +clothed in the mantle of adultery, (leader’s) trusty henchmen to the +number of ten or a dozen or possibly even more than that penetrated +into the printing works of the _Insuppressible_ or no it was _United +Ireland_ (a by no means by the by appropriate appellative) and broke up +the typecases with hammers or something like that all on account of +some scurrilous effusions from the facile pens of the O’Brienite +scribes at the usual mudslinging occupation reflecting on the erstwhile +tribune’s private morals. Though palpably a radically altered man he +was still a commanding figure though carelessly garbed as usual with +that look of settled purpose which went a long way with the +shillyshallyers till they discovered to their vast discomfiture that +their idol had feet of clay after placing him upon a pedestal which +she, however, was the first to perceive. As those were particularly hot +times in the general hullaballoo Bloom sustained a minor injury from a +nasty prod of some chap’s elbow in the crowd that of course congregated +lodging some place about the pit of the stomach, fortunately not of a +grave character. His hat (Parnell’s) a silk one was inadvertently +knocked off and, as a matter of strict history, Bloom was the man who +picked it up in the crush after witnessing the occurrence meaning to +return it to him (and return it to him he did with the utmost celerity) +who panting and hatless and whose thoughts were miles away from his hat +at the time all the same being a gentleman born with a stake in the +country he, as a matter of fact, having gone into it more for the kudos +of the thing than anything else, what’s bred in the bone instilled into +him in infancy at his mother’s knee in the shape of knowing what good +form was came out at once because he turned round to the donor and +thanked him with perfect _aplomb_, saying: _Thank you, sir_, though in +a very different tone of voice from the ornament of the legal +profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the +course of the day, history repeating itself with a difference, after +the burial of a mutual friend when they had left him alone in his glory +after the grim task of having committed his remains to the grave. + +On the other hand what incensed him more inwardly was the blatant jokes +of the cabman and so on who passed it all off as a jest, laughing +immoderately, pretending to understand everything, the why and the +wherefore, and in reality not knowing their own minds, it being a case +for the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the legitimate +husband happened to be a party to it owing to some anonymous letter +from the usual boy Jones, who happened to come across them at the +crucial moment in a loving position locked in one another’s arms, +drawing attention to their illicit proceedings and leading up to a +domestic rumpus and the erring fair one begging forgiveness of her lord +and master upon her knees and promising to sever the connection and not +receive his visits any more if only the aggrieved husband would +overlook the matter and let bygones be bygones with tears in her eyes +though possibly with her tongue in her fair cheek at the same time as +quite possibly there were several others. He personally, being of a +sceptical bias, believed and didn’t make the smallest bones about +saying so either that man or men in the plural were always hanging +around on the waiting list about a lady, even supposing she was the +best wife in the world and they got on fairly well together for the +sake of argument, when, neglecting her duties, she chose to be tired of +wedded life and was on for a little flutter in polite debauchery to +press their attentions on her with improper intent, the upshot being +that her affections centred on another, the cause of many _liaisons_ +between still attractive married women getting on for fair and forty +and younger men, no doubt as several famous cases of feminine +infatuation proved up to the hilt. + +It was a thousand pities a young fellow, blessed with an allowance of +brains as his neighbour obviously was, should waste his valuable time +with profligate women who might present him with a nice dose to last +him his lifetime. In the nature of single blessedness he would one day +take unto himself a wife when Miss Right came on the scene but in the +interim ladies’ society was a _conditio sine qua non_ though he had the +gravest possible doubts, not that he wanted in the smallest to pump +Stephen about Miss Ferguson (who was very possibly the particular +lodestar who brought him down to Irishtown so early in the morning), as +to whether he would find much satisfaction basking in the boy and girl +courtship idea and the company of smirking misses without a penny to +their names bi or triweekly with the orthodox preliminary canter of +complimentplaying and walking out leading up to fond lovers’ ways and +flowers and chocs. To think of him house and homeless, rooked by some +landlady worse than any stepmother, was really too bad at his age. The +queer suddenly things he popped out with attracted the elder man who +was several years the other’s senior or like his father but something +substantial he certainly ought to eat even were it only an eggflip made +on unadulterated maternal nutriment or, failing that, the homely Humpty +Dumpty boiled. + +—At what o’clock did you dine? he questioned of the slim form and tired +though unwrinkled face. + +—Some time yesterday, Stephen said. + +—Yesterday! exclaimed Bloom till he remembered it was already tomorrow +Friday. Ah, you mean it’s after twelve! + +—The day before yesterday, Stephen said, improving on himself. + +Literally astounded at this piece of intelligence Bloom reflected. +Though they didn’t see eye to eye in everything a certain analogy there +somehow was as if both their minds were travelling, so to speak, in the +one train of thought. At his age when dabbling in politics roughly some +score of years previously when he had been a _quasi_ aspirant to +parliamentary honours in the Buckshot Foster days he too recollected in +retrospect (which was a source of keen satisfaction in itself) he had a +sneaking regard for those same ultra ideas. For instance when the +evicted tenants question, then at its first inception, bulked largely +in people’s mind though, it goes without saying, not contributing a +copper or pinning his faith absolutely to its dictums, some of which +wouldn’t exactly hold water, he at the outset in principle at all +events was in thorough sympathy with peasant possession as voicing the +trend of modern opinion (a partiality, however, which, realising his +mistake, he was subsequently partially cured of) and even was twitted +with going a step farther than Michael Davitt in the striking views he +at one time inculcated as a backtothelander, which was one reason he +strongly resented the innuendo put upon him in so barefaced a fashion +by our friend at the gathering of the clans in Barney Kiernan’s so that +he, though often considerably misunderstood and the least pugnacious of +mortals, be it repeated, departed from his customary habit to give him +(metaphorically) one in the gizzard though, so far as politics +themselves were concerned, he was only too conscious of the casualties +invariably resulting from propaganda and displays of mutual animosity +and the misery and suffering it entailed as a foregone conclusion on +fine young fellows, chiefly, destruction of the fittest, in a word. + +Anyhow upon weighing up the pros and cons, getting on for one, as it +was, it was high time to be retiring for the night. The crux was it was +a bit risky to bring him home as eventualities might possibly ensue +(somebody having a temper of her own sometimes) and spoil the hash +altogether as on the night he misguidedly brought home a dog (breed +unknown) with a lame paw (not that the cases were either identical or +the reverse though he had hurt his hand too) to Ontario Terrace as he +very distinctly remembered, having been there, so to speak. On the +other hand it was altogether far and away too late for the Sandymount +or Sandycove suggestion so that he was in some perplexity as to which +of the two alternatives. Everything pointed to the fact that it behoved +him to avail himself to the full of the opportunity, all things +considered. His initial impression was he was a shade standoffish or +not over effusive but it grew on him someway. For one thing he mightn’t +what you call jump at the idea, if approached, and what mostly worried +him was he didn’t know how to lead up to it or word it exactly, +supposing he did entertain the proposal, as it would afford him very +great personal pleasure if he would allow him to help to put coin in +his way or some wardrobe, if found suitable. At all events he wound up +by concluding, eschewing for the nonce hidebound precedent, a cup of +Epps’s cocoa and a shakedown for the night plus the use of a rug or two +and overcoat doubled into a pillow at least he would be in safe hands +and as warm as a toast on a trivet he failed to perceive any very vast +amount of harm in that always with the proviso no rumpus of any sort +was kicked up. A move had to be made because that merry old soul, the +grasswidower in question who appeared to be glued to the spot, didn’t +appear in any particular hurry to wend his way home to his dearly +beloved Queenstown and it was highly likely some sponger’s bawdyhouse +of retired beauties where age was no bar off Sheriff street lower would +be the best clue to that equivocal character’s whereabouts for a few +days to come, alternately racking their feelings (the mermaids’) with +sixchamber revolver anecdotes verging on the tropical calculated to +freeze the marrow of anybody’s bones and mauling their largesized +charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the accompaniment +of large potations of potheen and the usual blarney about himself for +as to who he in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as +Mr Algebra remarks _passim_. At the same time he inwardly chuckled over +his gentle repartee to the blood and ouns champion about his god being +a jew. People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what +properly riled them was a bite from a sheep. The most vulnerable point +too of tender Achilles. Your god was a jew. Because mostly they +appeared to imagine he came from Carrick-on-Shannon or somewhereabouts +in the county Sligo. + +—I propose, our hero eventually suggested after mature reflection while +prudently pocketing her photo, as it’s rather stuffy here you just come +home with me and talk things over. My diggings are quite close in the +vicinity. You can’t drink that stuff. Do you like cocoa? Wait. I’ll +just pay this lot. + +The best plan clearly being to clear out, the remainder being plain +sailing, he beckoned, while prudently pocketing the photo, to the +keeper of the shanty who didn’t seem to. + +—Yes, that’s the best, he assured Stephen to whom for the matter of +that Brazen Head or him or anywhere else was all more or less. + +All kinds of Utopian plans were flashing through his (B’s) busy brain, +education (the genuine article), literature, journalism, prize titbits, +up to date billing, concert tours in English watering resorts packed +with hydros and seaside theatres, turning money away, duets in Italian +with the accent perfectly true to nature and a quantity of other +things, no necessity, of course, to tell the world and his wife from +the housetops about it, and a slice of luck. An opening was all was +wanted. Because he more than suspected he had his father’s voice to +bank his hopes on which it was quite on the cards he had so it would be +just as well, by the way no harm, to trail the conversation in the +direction of that particular red herring just to. + +The cabby read out of the paper he had got hold of that the former +viceroy, earl Cadogan, had presided at the cabdrivers’ association +dinner in London somewhere. Silence with a yawn or two accompanied this +thrilling announcement. Then the old specimen in the corner who +appeared to have some spark of vitality left read out that sir Anthony +MacDonnell had left Euston for the chief secretary’s lodge or words to +that effect. To which absorbing piece of intelligence echo answered +why. + +—Give us a squint at that literature, grandfather, the ancient mariner +put in, manifesting some natural impatience. + +—And welcome, answered the elderly party thus addressed. + +The sailor lugged out from a case he had a pair of greenish goggles +which he very slowly hooked over his nose and both ears. + +—Are you bad in the eyes? the sympathetic personage like the townclerk +queried. + +—Why, answered the seafarer with the tartan beard, who seemingly was a +bit of a literary cove in his own small way, staring out of seagreen +portholes as you might well describe them as, I uses goggles reading. +Sand in the Red Sea done that. One time I could read a book in the +dark, manner of speaking. _The Arabian Nights Entertainment_ was my +favourite and _Red as a Rose is She._ + +Hereupon he pawed the journal open and pored upon Lord only knows what, +found drowned or the exploits of King Willow, Iremonger having made a +hundred and something second wicket not out for Notts, during which +time (completely regardless of Ire) the keeper was intensely occupied +loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched +him as he muttered against whoever it was sold it, all of them who were +sufficiently awake enough to be picked out by their facial expressions, +that is to say, either simply looking on glumly or passing a trivial +remark. + +To cut a long story short Bloom, grasping the situation, was the first +to rise from his seat so as not to outstay their welcome having first +and foremost, being as good as his word that he would foot the bill for +the occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine +host as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the others were +not looking to the effect that the amount due was forthcoming, making a +grand total of fourpence (the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four +coppers, literally the last of the Mohicans), he having previously +spotted on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read opposite him +in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and honestly well +worth twice the money once in a way, as Wetherup used to remark. + +—Come, he counselled to close the _séance_. + +Seeing that the ruse worked and the coast was clear they left the +shelter or shanty together and the _élite_ society of oilskin and +company whom nothing short of an earthquake would move out of their +_dolce far niente_. Stephen, who confessed to still feeling poorly and +fagged out, paused at the, for a moment, the door. + +—One thing I never understood, he said to be original on the spur of +the moment. Why they put tables upside down at night, I mean chairs +upside down, on the tables in cafés. To which impromptu the +neverfailing Bloom replied without a moment’s hesitation, saying +straight off: + +—To sweep the floor in the morning. + +So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, frankly at the same +time apologetic to get on his companion’s right, a habit of his, by the +bye, his right side being, in classical idiom, his tender Achilles. The +night air was certainly now a treat to breathe though Stephen was a bit +weak on his pins. + +—It will (the air) do you good, Bloom said, meaning also the walk, in a +moment. The only thing is to walk then you’ll feel a different man. +Come. It’s not far. Lean on me. + +Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen’s right and led him on +accordingly. + +—Yes, Stephen said uncertainly because he thought he felt a strange +kind of flesh of a different man approach him, sinewless and wobbly and +all that. + +Anyhow they passed the sentrybox with stones, brazier etc. where the +municipal supernumerary, ex Gumley, was still to all intents and +purposes wrapped in the arms of Murphy, as the adage has it, dreaming +of fresh fields and pastures new. And _apropos_ of coffin of stones the +analogy was not at all bad as it was in fact a stoning to death on the +part of seventytwo out of eighty odd constituencies that ratted at the +time of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably the +selfsame evicted tenants he had put in their holdings. + +So they turned on to chatting about music, a form of art for which +Bloom, as a pure amateur, possessed the greatest love, as they made +tracks arm in arm across Beresford place. Wagnerian music, though +confessedly grand in its way, was a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to +follow at the first go-off but the music of Mercadante’s _Huguenots_, +Meyerbeer’s _Seven Last Words on the Cross_ and Mozart’s _Twelfth Mass_ +he simply revelled in, the _Gloria_ in that being, to his mind, the +acme of first class music as such, literally knocking everything else +into a cocked hat. He infinitely preferred the sacred music of the +catholic church to anything the opposite shop could offer in that line +such as those Moody and Sankey hymns or _Bid me to live and I will live +thy protestant to be_. He also yielded to none in his admiration of +Rossini’s _Stabat Mater_, a work simply abounding in immortal numbers, +in which his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, made a hit, a veritable +sensation, he might safely say, greatly adding to her other laurels and +putting the others totally in the shade, in the jesuit fathers’ church +in upper Gardiner street, the sacred edifice being thronged to the +doors to hear her with virtuosos, or _virtuosi_ rather. There was the +unanimous opinion that there was none to come up to her and suffice it +to say in a place of worship for music of a sacred character there was +a generally voiced desire for an encore. On the whole though favouring +preferably light opera of the _Don Giovanni_ description and _Martha_, +a gem in its line, he had a _penchant_, though with only a surface +knowledge, for the severe classical school such as Mendelssohn. And +talking of that, taking it for granted he knew all about the old +favourites, he mentioned _par excellence_ Lionel’s air in _Martha, +M’appari_, which, curiously enough, he had heard or overheard, to be +more accurate, on yesterday, a privilege he keenly appreciated, from +the lips of Stephen’s respected father, sung to perfection, a study of +the number, in fact, which made all the others take a back seat. +Stephen, in reply to a politely put query, said he didn’t sing it but +launched out into praises of Shakespeare’s songs, at least of in or +about that period, the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter lane near +Gerard the herbalist, who _anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus_, an +instrument he was contemplating purchasing from Mr Arnold Dolmetsch, +whom B. did not quite recall though the name certainly sounded +familiar, for sixtyfive guineas and Farnaby and son with their _dux_ +and _comes_ conceits and Byrd (William) who played the virginals, he +said, in the Queen’s chapel or anywhere else he found them and one +Tomkins who made toys or airs and John Bull. + +On the roadway which they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond +the swingchains a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the paven ground, +brushing a long swathe of mire up so that with the noise Bloom was not +perfectly certain whether he had caught aright the allusion to +sixtyfive guineas and John Bull. He inquired if it was John Bull the +political celebrity of that ilk, as it struck him, the two identical +names, as a striking coincidence. + +By the chains the horse slowly swerved to turn, which perceiving, +Bloom, who was keeping a sharp lookout as usual, plucked the other’s +sleeve gently, jocosely remarking: + +—Our lives are in peril tonight. Beware of the steamroller. + +They thereupon stopped. Bloom looked at the head of a horse not worth +anything like sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence in the dark quite +near so that it seemed new, a different grouping of bones and even +flesh because palpably it was a fourwalker, a hipshaker, a +blackbuttocker, a taildangler, a headhanger putting his hind foot +foremost the while the lord of his creation sat on the perch, busy with +his thoughts. But such a good poor brute he was sorry he hadn’t a lump +of sugar but, as he wisely reflected, you could scarcely be prepared +for every emergency that might crop up. He was just a big nervous +foolish noodly kind of a horse, without a second care in the world. But +even a dog, he reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan’s, of the +same size, would be a holy horror to face. But it was no animal’s fault +in particular if he was built that way like the camel, ship of the +desert, distilling grapes into potheen in his hump. Nine tenths of them +all could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the art of man barring +the bees. Whale with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of +his back and he sees the joke, chalk a circle for a rooster, tiger my +eagle eye. These timely reflections anent the brutes of the field +occupied his mind somewhat distracted from Stephen’s words while the +ship of the street was manœuvring and Stephen went on about the highly +interesting old. + +—What’s this I was saying? Ah, yes! My wife, he intimated, plunging _in +medias res_, would have the greatest of pleasure in making your +acquaintance as she is passionately attached to music of any kind. + +He looked sideways in a friendly fashion at the sideface of Stephen, +image of his mother, which was not quite the same as the usual handsome +blackguard type they unquestionably had an insatiable hankering after +as he was perhaps not that way built. + +Still, supposing he had his father’s gift as he more than suspected, it +opened up new vistas in his mind such as Lady Fingall’s Irish +industries, concert on the preceding Monday, and aristocracy in +general. + +Exquisite variations he was now describing on an air _Youth here has +End_ by Jans Pieter Sweelinck, a Dutchman of Amsterdam where the frows +come from. Even more he liked an old German song of _Johannes Jeep_ +about the clear sea and the voices of sirens, sweet murderers of men, +which boggled Bloom a bit: + + Von der Sirenen Listigkeit + Tun die Poeten dichten. + +These opening bars he sang and translated _extempore_. Bloom, nodding, +said he perfectly understood and begged him to go on by all means which +he did. + +A phenomenally beautiful tenor voice like that, the rarest of boons, +which Bloom appreciated at the very first note he got out, could +easily, if properly handled by some recognised authority on voice +production such as Barraclough and being able to read music into the +bargain, command its own price where baritones were ten a penny and +procure for its fortunate possessor in the near future an _entrée_ into +fashionable houses in the best residential quarters of financial +magnates in a large way of business and titled people where with his +university degree of B. A. (a huge ad in its way) and gentlemanly +bearing to all the more influence the good impression he would +infallibly score a distinct success, being blessed with brains which +also could be utilised for the purpose and other requisites, if his +clothes were properly attended to so as to the better worm his way into +their good graces as he, a youthful tyro in society’s sartorial +niceties, hardly understood how a little thing like that could militate +against you. It was in fact only a matter of months and he could easily +foresee him participating in their musical and artistic +_conversaziones_ during the festivities of the Christmas season, for +choice, causing a slight flutter in the dovecotes of the fair sex and +being made a lot of by ladies out for sensation, cases of which, as he +happened to know, were on record—in fact, without giving the show away, +he himself once upon a time, if he cared to, could easily have. Added +to which of course would be the pecuniary emolument by no means to be +sneezed at, going hand in hand with his tuition fees. Not, he +parenthesised, that for the sake of filthy lucre he need necessarily +embrace the lyric platform as a walk in life for any lengthy space of +time. But a step in the required direction it was beyond yea or nay and +both monetarily and mentally it contained no reflection on his dignity +in the smallest and it often turned in uncommonly handy to be handed a +cheque at a muchneeded moment when every little helped. Besides, though +taste latterly had deteriorated to a degree, original music like that, +different from the conventional rut, would rapidly have a great vogue +as it would be a decided novelty for Dublin’s musical world after the +usual hackneyed run of catchy tenor solos foisted on a confiding public +by Ivan St Austell and Hilton St Just and their _genus omne_. Yes, +beyond a shadow of a doubt he could with all the cards in his hand and +he had a capital opening to make a name for himself and win a high +place in the city’s esteem where he could command a stiff figure and, +booking ahead, give a grand concert for the patrons of the King street +house, given a backerup, if one were forthcoming to kick him upstairs, +so to speak, a big _if_, however, with some impetus of the goahead sort +to obviate the inevitable procrastination which often tripped up a too +much fêted prince of good fellows. And it need not detract from the +other by one iota as, being his own master, he would have heaps of time +to practise literature in his spare moments when desirous of so doing +without its clashing with his vocal career or containing anything +derogatory whatsoever as it was a matter for himself alone. In fact, he +had the ball at his feet and that was the very reason why the other, +possessed of a remarkably sharp nose for smelling a rat of any sort, +hung on to him at all. + +The horse was just then. And later on at a propitious opportunity he +purposed (Bloom did), without anyway prying into his private affairs on +the _fools step in where angels_ principle, advising him to sever his +connection with a certain budding practitioner who, he noticed, was +prone to disparage and even to a slight extent with some hilarious +pretext when not present, deprecate him, or whatever you like to call +it which in Bloom’s humble opinion threw a nasty sidelight on that side +of a person’s character, no pun intended. + +The horse having reached the end of his tether, so to speak, halted +and, rearing high a proud feathering tail, added his quota by letting +fall on the floor which the brush would soon brush up and polish, three +smoking globes of turds. Slowly three times, one after another, from a +full crupper he mired. And humanely his driver waited till he (or she) +had ended, patient in his scythed car. + +Side by side Bloom, profiting by the _contretemps_, with Stephen passed +through the gap of the chains, divided by the upright, and, stepping +over a strand of mire, went across towards Gardiner street lower, +Stephen singing more boldly, but not loudly, the end of the ballad. + + Und alle Schiffe brücken. + +The driver never said a word, good, bad or indifferent, but merely +watched the two figures, as he sat on his lowbacked car, both black, +one full, one lean, walk towards the railway bridge, _to be married by +Father Maher_. As they walked they at times stopped and walked again +continuing their _tête à tête_ (which, of course, he was utterly out +of) about sirens, enemies of man’s reason, mingled with a number of +other topics of the same category, usurpers, historical cases of the +kind while the man in the sweeper car or you might as well call it in +the sleeper car who in any case couldn’t possibly hear because they +were too far simply sat in his seat near the end of lower Gardiner +street _and looked after their lowbacked car_. + + +[ 17 ] + +What parallel courses did Bloom and Stephen follow returning? + +Starting united both at normal walking pace from Beresford place they +followed in the order named Lower and Middle Gardiner streets and +Mountjoy square, west: then, at reduced pace, each bearing left, +Gardiner’s place by an inadvertence as far as the farther corner of +Temple street: then, at reduced pace with interruptions of halt, +bearing right, Temple street, north, as far as Hardwicke place. +Approaching, disparate, at relaxed walking pace they crossed both the +circus before George’s church diametrically, the chord in any circle +being less than the arc which it subtends. + +Of what did the duumvirate deliberate during their itinerary? + +Music, literature, Ireland, Dublin, Paris, friendship, woman, +prostitution, diet, the influence of gaslight or the light of arc and +glowlamps on the growth of adjoining paraheliotropic trees, exposed +corporation emergency dustbuckets, the Roman catholic church, +ecclesiastical celibacy, the Irish nation, jesuit education, careers, +the study of medicine, the past day, the maleficent influence of the +presabbath, Stephen’s collapse. + +Did Bloom discover common factors of similarity between their +respective like and unlike reactions to experience? + +Both were sensitive to artistic impressions, musical in preference to +plastic or pictorial. Both preferred a continental to an insular manner +of life, a cisatlantic to a transatlantic place of residence. Both +indurated by early domestic training and an inherited tenacity of +heterodox resistance professed their disbelief in many orthodox +religious, national, social and ethical doctrines. Both admitted the +alternately stimulating and obtunding influence of heterosexual +magnetism. + +Were their views on some points divergent? + +Stephen dissented openly from Bloom’s views on the importance of +dietary and civic selfhelp while Bloom dissented tacitly from Stephen’s +views on the eternal affirmation of the spirit of man in literature. +Bloom assented covertly to Stephen’s rectification of the anachronism +involved in assigning the date of the conversion of the Irish nation to +christianity from druidism by Patrick son of Calpornus, son of Potitus, +son of Odyssus, sent by pope Celestine I in the year 432 in the reign +of Leary to the year 260 or thereabouts in the reign of Cormac MacArt +(† 266 A.D.), suffocated by imperfect deglutition of aliment at Sletty +and interred at Rossnaree. The collapse which Bloom ascribed to gastric +inanition and certain chemical compounds of varying degrees of +adulteration and alcoholic strength, accelerated by mental exertion and +the velocity of rapid circular motion in a relaxing atmosphere, Stephen +attributed to the reapparition of a matutinal cloud (perceived by both +from two different points of observation Sandycove and Dublin) at first +no bigger than a woman’s hand. + +Was there one point on which their views were equal and negative? + +The influence of gaslight or electric light on the growth of adjoining +paraheliotropic trees. + +Had Bloom discussed similar subjects during nocturnal perambulations in +the past? + +In 1884 with Owen Goldberg and Cecil Turnbull at night on public +thoroughfares between Longwood avenue and Leonard’s corner and +Leonard’s corner and Synge street and Synge street and Bloomfield +avenue. In 1885 with Percy Apjohn in the evenings, reclined against the +wall between Gibraltar villa and Bloomfield house in Crumlin, barony of +Uppercross. In 1886 occasionally with casual acquaintances and +prospective purchasers on doorsteps, in front parlours, in third class +railway carriages of suburban lines. In 1888 frequently with major +Brian Tweedy and his daughter Miss Marion Tweedy, together and +separately on the lounge in Matthew Dillon’s house in Roundtown. Once +in 1892 and once in 1893 with Julius (Juda) Mastiansky, on both +occasions in the parlour of his (Bloom’s) house in Lombard street, +west. + +What reflection concerning the irregular sequence of dates 1884, 1885, +1886, 1888, 1892, 1893, 1904 did Bloom make before their arrival at +their destination? + +He reflected that the progressive extension of the field of individual +development and experience was regressively accompanied by a +restriction of the converse domain of interindividual relations. + +As in what ways? + +From inexistence to existence he came to many and was as one received: +existence with existence he was with any as any with any: from +existence to nonexistence gone he would be by all as none perceived. + +What act did Bloom make on their arrival at their destination? + +At the housesteps of the 4th of the equidifferent uneven numbers, +number 7 Eccles street, he inserted his hand mechanically into the back +pocket of his trousers to obtain his latchkey. + +Was it there? + +It was in the corresponding pocket of the trousers which he had worn on +the day but one preceding. + +Why was he doubly irritated? + +Because he had forgotten and because he remembered that he had reminded +himself twice not to forget. + +What were then the alternatives before the, premeditatedly +(respectively) and inadvertently, keyless couple? + +To enter or not to enter. To knock or not to knock. + +Bloom’s decision? + +A stratagem. Resting his feet on the dwarf wall, he climbed over the +area railings, compressed his hat on his head, grasped two points at +the lower union of rails and stiles, lowered his body gradually by its +length of five feet nine inches and a half to within two feet ten +inches of the area pavement and allowed his body to move freely in +space by separating himself from the railings and crouching in +preparation for the impact of the fall. + +Did he fall? + +By his body’s known weight of eleven stone and four pounds in +avoirdupois measure, as certified by the graduated machine for +periodical selfweighing in the premises of Francis Froedman, +pharmaceutical chemist of 19 Frederick street, north, on the last feast +of the Ascension, to wit, the twelfth day of May of the bissextile year +one thousand nine hundred and four of the christian era (jewish era +five thousand six hundred and sixtyfour, mohammadan era one thousand +three hundred and twentytwo), golden number 5, epact 13, solar cycle 9, +dominical letters C B, Roman indiction 2, Julian period 6617, MCMIV. + +Did he rise uninjured by concussion? + +Regaining new stable equilibrium he rose uninjured though concussed by +the impact, raised the latch of the area door by the exertion of force +at its freely moving flange and by leverage of the first kind applied +at its fulcrum, gained retarded access to the kitchen through the +subadjacent scullery, ignited a lucifer match by friction, set free +inflammable coal gas by turning on the ventcock, lit a high flame +which, by regulating, he reduced to quiescent candescence and lit +finally a portable candle. + +What discrete succession of images did Stephen meanwhile perceive? + +Reclined against the area railings he perceived through the transparent +kitchen panes a man regulating a gasflame of 14 CP, a man lighting a +candle of 1 CP, a man removing in turn each of his two boots, a man +leaving the kitchen holding a candle. + +Did the man reappear elsewhere? + +After a lapse of four minutes the glimmer of his candle was discernible +through the semitransparent semicircular glass fanlight over the +halldoor. The halldoor turned gradually on its hinges. In the open +space of the doorway the man reappeared without his hat, with his +candle. + +Did Stephen obey his sign? + +Yes, entering softly, he helped to close and chain the door and +followed softly along the hallway the man’s back and listed feet and +lighted candle past a lighted crevice of doorway on the left and +carefully down a turning staircase of more than five steps into the +kitchen of Bloom’s house. + +What did Bloom do? + +He extinguished the candle by a sharp expiration of breath upon its +flame, drew two spoonseat deal chairs to the hearthstone, one for +Stephen with its back to the area window, the other for himself when +necessary, knelt on one knee, composed in the grate a pyre of crosslaid +resintipped sticks and various coloured papers and irregular polygons +of best Abram coal at twentyone shillings a ton from the yard of Messrs +Flower and M’Donald of 14 D’Olier street, kindled it at three +projecting points of paper with one ignited lucifer match, thereby +releasing the potential energy contained in the fuel by allowing its +carbon and hydrogen elements to enter into free union with the oxygen +of the air. + +Of what similar apparitions did Stephen think? + +Of others elsewhere in other times who, kneeling on one knee or on two, +had kindled fires for him, of Brother Michael in the infirmary of the +college of the Society of Jesus at Clongowes Wood, Sallins, in the +county of Kildare: of his father, Simon Dedalus, in an unfurnished room +of his first residence in Dublin, number thirteen Fitzgibbon street: of +his godmother Miss Kate Morkan in the house of her dying sister Miss +Julia Morkan at 15 Usher’s Island: of his aunt Sara, wife of Richie +(Richard) Goulding, in the kitchen of their lodgings at 62 Clanbrassil +street: of his mother Mary, wife of Simon Dedalus, in the kitchen of +number twelve North Richmond street on the morning of the feast of +Saint Francis Xavier 1898: of the dean of studies, Father Butt, in the +physics’ theatre of university College, 16 Stephen’s Green, north: of +his sister Dilly (Delia) in his father’s house in Cabra. + +What did Stephen see on raising his gaze to the height of a yard from +the fire towards the opposite wall? + +Under a row of five coiled spring housebells a curvilinear rope, +stretched between two holdfasts athwart across the recess beside the +chimney pier, from which hung four smallsized square handkerchiefs +folded unattached consecutively in adjacent rectangles and one pair of +ladies’ grey hose with Lisle suspender tops and feet in their habitual +position clamped by three erect wooden pegs two at their outer +extremities and the third at their point of junction. + +What did Bloom see on the range? + +On the right (smaller) hob a blue enamelled saucepan: on the left +(larger) hob a black iron kettle. + +What did Bloom do at the range? + +He removed the saucepan to the left hob, rose and carried the iron +kettle to the sink in order to tap the current by turning the faucet to +let it flow. + +Did it flow? + +Yes. From Roundwood reservoir in county Wicklow of a cubic capacity of +2400 million gallons, percolating through a subterranean aqueduct of +filter mains of single and double pipeage constructed at an initial +plant cost of £ 5 per linear yard by way of the Dargle, Rathdown, Glen +of the Downs and Callowhill to the 26 acre reservoir at Stillorgan, a +distance of 22 statute miles, and thence, through a system of relieving +tanks, by a gradient of 250 feet to the city boundary at Eustace +bridge, upper Leeson street, though from prolonged summer drouth and +daily supply of 12 1/2 million gallons the water had fallen below the +sill of the overflow weir for which reason the borough surveyor and +waterworks engineer, Mr Spencer Harty, C. E., on the instructions of +the waterworks committee had prohibited the use of municipal water for +purposes other than those of consumption (envisaging the possibility of +recourse being had to the impotable water of the Grand and Royal canals +as in 1893) particularly as the South Dublin Guardians, notwithstanding +their ration of 15 gallons per day per pauper supplied through a 6 inch +meter, had been convicted of a wastage of 20,000 gallons per night by a +reading of their meter on the affirmation of the law agent of the +corporation, Mr Ignatius Rice, solicitor, thereby acting to the +detriment of another section of the public, selfsupporting taxpayers, +solvent, sound. + +What in water did Bloom, waterlover, drawer of water, watercarrier, +returning to the range, admire? + +Its universality: its democratic equality and constancy to its nature +in seeking its own level: its vastness in the ocean of Mercator’s +projection: its unplumbed profundity in the Sundam trench of the +Pacific exceeding 8000 fathoms: the restlessness of its waves and +surface particles visiting in turn all points of its seaboard: the +independence of its units: the variability of states of sea: its +hydrostatic quiescence in calm: its hydrokinetic turgidity in neap and +spring tides: its subsidence after devastation: its sterility in the +circumpolar icecaps, arctic and antarctic: its climatic and commercial +significance: its preponderance of 3 to 1 over the dry land of the +globe: its indisputable hegemony extending in square leagues over all +the region below the subequatorial tropic of Capricorn: the +multisecular stability of its primeval basin: its luteofulvous bed: its +capacity to dissolve and hold in solution all soluble substances +including millions of tons of the most precious metals: its slow +erosions of peninsulas and islands, its persistent formation of +homothetic islands, peninsulas and downwardtending promontories: its +alluvial deposits: its weight and volume and density: its +imperturbability in lagoons and highland tarns: its gradation of +colours in the torrid and temperate and frigid zones: its vehicular +ramifications in continental lakecontained streams and confluent +oceanflowing rivers with their tributaries and transoceanic currents, +gulfstream, north and south equatorial courses: its violence in +seaquakes, waterspouts, Artesian wells, eruptions, torrents, eddies, +freshets, spates, groundswells, watersheds, waterpartings, geysers, +cataracts, whirlpools, maelstroms, inundations, deluges, cloudbursts: +its vast circumterrestrial ahorizontal curve: its secrecy in springs +and latent humidity, revealed by rhabdomantic or hygrometric +instruments and exemplified by the well by the hole in the wall at +Ashtown gate, saturation of air, distillation of dew: the simplicity of +its composition, two constituent parts of hydrogen with one constituent +part of oxygen: its healing virtues: its buoyancy in the waters of the +Dead Sea: its persevering penetrativeness in runnels, gullies, +inadequate dams, leaks on shipboard: its properties for cleansing, +quenching thirst and fire, nourishing vegetation: its infallibility as +paradigm and paragon: its metamorphoses as vapour, mist, cloud, rain, +sleet, snow, hail: its strength in rigid hydrants: its variety of forms +in loughs and bays and gulfs and bights and guts and lagoons and atolls +and archipelagos and sounds and fjords and minches and tidal estuaries +and arms of sea: its solidity in glaciers, icebergs, icefloes: its +docility in working hydraulic millwheels, turbines, dynamos, electric +power stations, bleachworks, tanneries, scutchmills: its utility in +canals, rivers, if navigable, floating and graving docks: its +potentiality derivable from harnessed tides or watercourses falling +from level to level: its submarine fauna and flora (anacoustic, +photophobe), numerically, if not literally, the inhabitants of the +globe: its ubiquity as constituting 90 +% of the human body: the noxiousness of its effluvia in lacustrine +% marshes, +pestilential fens, faded flowerwater, stagnant pools in the waning +moon. + +Having set the halffilled kettle on the now burning coals, why did he +return to the stillflowing tap? + +To wash his soiled hands with a partially consumed tablet of +Barrington’s lemonflavoured soap, to which paper still adhered, (bought +thirteen hours previously for fourpence and still unpaid for), in fresh +cold neverchanging everchanging water and dry them, face and hands, in +a long redbordered holland cloth passed over a wooden revolving roller. + +What reason did Stephen give for declining Bloom’s offer? + +That he was hydrophobe, hating partial contact by immersion or total by +submersion in cold water, (his last bath having taken place in the +month of October of the preceding year), disliking the aqueous +substances of glass and crystal, distrusting aquacities of thought and +language. + +What impeded Bloom from giving Stephen counsels of hygiene and +prophylactic to which should be added suggestions concerning a +preliminary wetting of the head and contraction of the muscles with +rapid splashing of the face and neck and thoracic and epigastric region +in case of sea or river bathing, the parts of the human anatomy most +sensitive to cold being the nape, stomach and thenar or sole of foot? + +The incompatibility of aquacity with the erratic originality of genius. + +What additional didactic counsels did he similarly repress? + +Dietary: concerning the respective percentage of protein and caloric +energy in bacon, salt ling and butter, the absence of the former in the +lastnamed and the abundance of the latter in the firstnamed. + +Which seemed to the host to be the predominant qualities of his guest? + +Confidence in himself, an equal and opposite power of abandonment and +recuperation. + +What concomitant phenomenon took place in the vessel of liquid by the +agency of fire? + +The phenomenon of ebullition. Fanned by a constant updraught of +ventilation between the kitchen and the chimneyflue, ignition was +communicated from the faggots of precombustible fuel to polyhedral +masses of bituminous coal, containing in compressed mineral form the +foliated fossilised decidua of primeval forests which had in turn +derived their vegetative existence from the sun, primal source of heat +(radiant), transmitted through omnipresent luminiferous diathermanous +ether. Heat (convected), a mode of motion developed by such combustion, +was constantly and increasingly conveyed from the source of +calorification to the liquid contained in the vessel, being radiated +through the uneven unpolished dark surface of the metal iron, in part +reflected, in part absorbed, in part transmitted, gradually raising the +temperature of the water from normal to boiling point, a rise in +temperature expressible as the result of an expenditure of 72 thermal +units needed to raise 1 pound of water from 50° to 212° Fahrenheit. + +What announced the accomplishment of this rise in temperature? + +A double falciform ejection of water vapour from under the kettlelid at +both sides simultaneously. + +For what personal purpose could Bloom have applied the water so boiled? + +To shave himself. + +What advantages attended shaving by night? + +A softer beard: a softer brush if intentionally allowed to remain from +shave to shave in its agglutinated lather: a softer skin if +unexpectedly encountering female acquaintances in remote places at +incustomary hours: quiet reflections upon the course of the day: a +cleaner sensation when awaking after a fresher sleep since matutinal +noises, premonitions and perturbations, a clattered milkcan, a +postman’s double knock, a paper read, reread while lathering, +relathering the same spot, a shock, a shoot, with thought of aught he +sought though fraught with nought might cause a faster rate of shaving +and a nick on which incision plaster with precision cut and humected +and applied adhered: which was to be done. + +Why did absence of light disturb him less than presence of noise? + +Because of the surety of the sense of touch in his firm full masculine +feminine passive active hand. + +What quality did it (his hand) possess but with what counteracting +influence? + +The operative surgical quality but that he was reluctant to shed human +blood even when the end justified the means, preferring, in their +natural order, heliotherapy, psychophysicotherapeutics, osteopathic +surgery. + +What lay under exposure on the lower, middle and upper shelves of the +kitchen dresser, opened by Bloom? + +On the lower shelf five vertical breakfast plates, six horizontal +breakfast saucers on which rested inverted breakfast cups, a +moustachecup, uninverted, and saucer of Crown Derby, four white +goldrimmed eggcups, an open shammy purse displaying coins, mostly +copper, and a phial of aromatic (violet) comfits. On the middle shelf a +chipped eggcup containing pepper, a drum of table salt, four +conglomerated black olives in oleaginous paper, an empty pot of +Plumtree’s potted meat, an oval wicker basket bedded with fibre and +containing one Jersey pear, a halfempty bottle of William Gilbey and +Co’s white invalid port, half disrobed of its swathe of coralpink +tissue paper, a packet of Epps’s soluble cocoa, five ounces of Anne +Lynch’s choice tea at 2/- per lb in a crinkled leadpaper bag, a +cylindrical canister containing the best crystallised lump sugar, two +onions, one, the larger, Spanish, entire, the other, smaller, Irish, +bisected with augmented surface and more redolent, a jar of Irish Model +Dairy’s cream, a jug of brown crockery containing a naggin and a +quarter of soured adulterated milk, converted by heat into water, +acidulous serum and semisolidified curds, which added to the quantity +subtracted for Mr Bloom’s and Mrs Fleming’s breakfasts, made one +imperial pint, the total quantity originally delivered, two cloves, a +halfpenny and a small dish containing a slice of fresh ribsteak. On the +upper shelf a battery of jamjars (empty) of various sizes and +proveniences. + +What attracted his attention lying on the apron of the dresser? + +Four polygonal fragments of two lacerated scarlet betting tickets, +numbered 8 87, 88 6. + +What reminiscences temporarily corrugated his brow? + +Reminiscences of coincidences, truth stranger than fiction, +preindicative of the result of the Gold Cup flat handicap, the official +and definitive result of which he had read in the _Evening Telegraph_, +late pink edition, in the cabman’s shelter, at Butt bridge. + +Where had previous intimations of the result, effected or projected, +been received by him? + +In Bernard Kiernan’s licensed premises 8, 9 and 10 little Britain +street: in David Byrne’s licensed premises, 14 Duke street: in +O’Connell street lower, outside Graham Lemon’s when a dark man had +placed in his hand a throwaway (subsequently thrown away), advertising +Elijah, restorer of the church in Zion: in Lincoln place outside the +premises of F. W. Sweny and Co (Limited), dispensing chemists, when, +when Frederick M. (Bantam) Lyons had rapidly and successively +requested, perused and restituted the copy of the current issue of the +_Freeman’s Journal_ and _National Press_ which he had been about to +throw away (subsequently thrown away), he had proceeded towards the +oriental edifice of the Turkish and Warm Baths, 11 Leinster street, +with the light of inspiration shining in his countenance and bearing in +his arms the secret of the race, graven in the language of prediction. + +What qualifying considerations allayed his perturbations? + +The difficulties of interpretation since the significance of any event +followed its occurrence as variably as the acoustic report followed the +electrical discharge and of counterestimating against an actual loss by +failure to interpret the total sum of possible losses proceeding +originally from a successful interpretation. + +His mood? + +He had not risked, he did not expect, he had not been disappointed, he +was satisfied. + +What satisfied him? + +To have sustained no positive loss. To have brought a positive gain to +others. Light to the gentiles. + +How did Bloom prepare a collation for a gentile? + +He poured into two teacups two level spoonfuls, four in all, of Epps’s +soluble cocoa and proceeded according to the directions for use printed +on the label, to each adding after sufficient time for infusion the +prescribed ingredients for diffusion in the manner and in the quantity +prescribed. + +What supererogatory marks of special hospitality did the host show his +guest? + +Relinquishing his symposiarchal right to the moustache cup of imitation +Crown Derby presented to him by his only daughter, Millicent (Milly), +he substituted a cup identical with that of his guest and served +extraordinarily to his guest and, in reduced measure, to himself the +viscous cream ordinarily reserved for the breakfast of his wife Marion +(Molly). + +Was the guest conscious of and did he acknowledge these marks of +hospitality? + +His attention was directed to them by his host jocosely, and he +accepted them seriously as they drank in jocoserious silence Epps’s +massproduct, the creature cocoa. + +Were there marks of hospitality which he contemplated but suppressed, +reserving them for another and for himself on future occasions to +complete the act begun? + +The reparation of a fissure of the length of 1 1/2 inches in the right +side of his guest’s jacket. A gift to his guest of one of the four +lady’s handkerchiefs, if and when ascertained to be in a presentable +condition. + +Who drank more quickly? + +Bloom, having the advantage of ten seconds at the initiation and +taking, from the concave surface of a spoon along the handle of which a +steady flow of heat was conducted, three sips to his opponent’s one, +six to two, nine to three. + +What cerebration accompanied his frequentative act? + +Concluding by inspection but erroneously that his silent companion was +engaged in mental composition he reflected on the pleasures derived +from literature of instruction rather than of amusement as he himself +had applied to the works of William Shakespeare more than once for the +solution of difficult problems in imaginary or real life. + +Had he found their solution? + +In spite of careful and repeated reading of certain classical passages, +aided by a glossary, he had derived imperfect conviction from the text, +the answers not bearing in all points. + +What lines concluded his first piece of original verse written by him, +potential poet, at the age of 11 in 1877 on the occasion of the +offering of three prizes of 10/-, 5/- and 2/6 respectively for +competition by the _Shamrock_, a weekly newspaper? + + An ambition to squint + At my verses in print + Makes me hope that for these you’ll find room. + If you so condescend + Then please place at the end + The name of yours truly, L. Bloom. + +Did he find four separating forces between his temporary guest and him? + +Name, age, race, creed. + +What anagrams had he made on his name in youth? + +Leopold Bloom +Ellpodbomool +Molldopeloob +Bollopedoom +Old Ollebo, M. P. + +What acrostic upon the abbreviation of his first name had he (kinetic +poet) sent to Miss Marion (Molly) Tweedy on the 14 February 1888? + + Poets oft have sung in rhyme + Of music sweet their praise divine. + Let them hymn it nine times nine. + Dearer far than song or wine. + You are mine. The world is mine. + +What had prevented him from completing a topical song (music by R. G. +Johnston) on the events of the past, or fixtures for the actual, years, +entitled _If Brian Boru could but come back and see old Dublin now_, +commissioned by Michael Gunn, lessee of the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, +49 South King street, and to be introduced into the sixth scene, the +valley of diamonds, of the second edition (30 January 1893) of the +grand annual Christmas pantomime _Sinbad the Sailor_ (produced by R. +Shelton 26 December 1892, written by Greenleaf Whittier, scenery by +George A. Jackson and Cecil Hicks, costumes by Mrs and Miss Whelan +under the personal supervision of Mrs Michael Gunn, ballets by Jessie +Noir, harlequinade by Thomas Otto) and sung by Nelly Bouverist, +principal girl? + +Firstly, oscillation between events of imperial and of local interest, +the anticipated diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria (born 1820, acceded +1837) and the posticipated opening of the new municipal fish market: +secondly, apprehension of opposition from extreme circles on the +questions of the respective visits of Their Royal Highnesses the duke +and duchess of York (real) and of His Majesty King Brian Boru +(imaginary): thirdly, a conflict between professional etiquette and +professional emulation concerning the recent erections of the Grand +Lyric Hall on Burgh Quay and the Theatre Royal in Hawkins street: +fourthly, distraction resultant from compassion for Nelly Bouverist’s +non-intellectual, non-political, non-topical expression of countenance +and concupiscence caused by Nelly Bouverist’s revelations of white +articles of non-intellectual, non-political, non-topical underclothing +while she (Nelly Bouverist) was in the articles: fifthly, the +difficulties of the selection of appropriate music and humorous +allusions from _Everybody’s Book of Jokes_ (1000 pages and a laugh in +every one): sixthly, the rhymes, homophonous and cacophonous, +associated with the names of the new lord mayor, Daniel Tallon, the new +high sheriff, Thomas Pile and the new solicitorgeneral, Dunbar Plunket +Barton. + +What relation existed between their ages? + +16 years before in 1888 when Bloom was of Stephen’s present age Stephen +was 6. 16 years after in 1920 when Stephen would be of Bloom’s present +age Bloom would be 54. In 1936 when Bloom would be 70 and Stephen 54 +their ages initially in the ratio of 16 to 0 would be as 17 1/2 to 13 +1/2, the proportion increasing and the disparity diminishing according +as arbitrary future years were added, for if the proportion existing in +1883 had continued immutable, conceiving that to be possible, till then +1904 when Stephen was 22 Bloom would be 374 and in 1920 when Stephen +would be 38, as Bloom then was, Bloom would be 646 while in 1952 when +Stephen would have attained the maximum postdiluvian age of 70 Bloom, +being 1190 years alive having been born in the year 714, would have +surpassed by 221 years the maximum antediluvian age, that of +Methusalah, 969 years, while, if Stephen would continue to live until +he would attain that age in the year 3072 A.D., Bloom would have been +obliged to have been alive 83,300 years, having been obliged to have +been born in the year 81,396 B.C. + +What events might nullify these calculations? + +The cessation of existence of both or either, the inauguration of a new +era or calendar, the annihilation of the world and consequent +extermination of the human species, inevitable but impredictable. + +How many previous encounters proved their preexisting acquaintance? + +Two. The first in the lilacgarden of Matthew Dillon’s house, Medina +Villa, Kimmage road, Roundtown, in 1887, in the company of Stephen’s +mother, Stephen being then of the age of 5 and reluctant to give his +hand in salutation. The second in the coffeeroom of Breslin’s hotel on +a rainy Sunday in the January of 1892, in the company of Stephen’s +father and Stephen’s granduncle, Stephen being then 5 years older. + +Did Bloom accept the invitation to dinner given then by the son and +afterwards seconded by the father? + +Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative +gratitude, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he declined. + +Did their conversation on the subject of these reminiscences reveal a +third connecting link between them? + +Mrs Riordan (Dante), a widow of independent means, had resided in the +house of Stephen’s parents from 1 September 1888 to 29 December 1891 +and had also resided during the years 1892, 1893 and 1894 in the City +Arms Hotel owned by Elizabeth O’Dowd of 54 Prussia street where, during +parts of the years 1893 and 1894, she had been a constant informant of +Bloom who resided also in the same hotel, being at that time a clerk in +the employment of Joseph Cuffe of 5 Smithfield for the superintendence +of sales in the adjacent Dublin Cattle market on the North Circular +road. + +Had he performed any special corporal work of mercy for her? + +He had sometimes propelled her on warm summer evenings, an infirm widow +of independent, if limited, means, in her convalescent bathchair with +slow revolutions of its wheels as far as the corner of the North +Circular road opposite Mr Gavin Low’s place of business where she had +remained for a certain time scanning through his onelensed binocular +fieldglasses unrecognisable citizens on tramcars, roadster bicycles +equipped with inflated pneumatic tyres, hackney carriages, tandems, +private and hired landaus, dogcarts, ponytraps and brakes passing from +the city to the Phoenix Park and _vice versa_. + +Why could he then support that his vigil with the greater equanimity? + +Because in middle youth he had often sat observing through a rondel of +bossed glass of a multicoloured pane the spectacle offered with +continual changes of the thoroughfare without, pedestrians, quadrupeds, +velocipedes, vehicles, passing slowly, quickly, evenly, round and round +and round the rim of a round and round precipitous globe. + +What distinct different memories had each of her now eight years +deceased? + +The older, her bezique cards and counters, her Skye terrier, her +suppositious wealth, her lapses of responsiveness and incipient +catarrhal deafness: the younger, her lamp of colza oil before the +statue of the Immaculate Conception, her green and maroon brushes for +Charles Stewart Parnell and for Michael Davitt, her tissue papers. + +Were there no means still remaining to him to achieve the rejuvenation +which these reminiscences divulged to a younger companion rendered the +more desirable? + +The indoor exercises, formerly intermittently practised, subsequently +abandoned, prescribed in Eugen Sandow’s _Physical Strength and How to +Obtain It_ which, designed particularly for commercial men engaged in +sedentary occupations, were to be made with mental concentration in +front of a mirror so as to bring into play the various families of +muscles and produce successively a pleasant rigidity, a more pleasant +relaxation and the most pleasant repristination of juvenile agility. + +Had any special agility been his in earlier youth? + +Though ringweight lifting had been beyond his strength and the full +circle gyration beyond his courage yet as a High school scholar he had +excelled in his stable and protracted execution of the half lever +movement on the parallel bars in consequence of his abnormally +developed abdominal muscles. + +Did either openly allude to their racial difference? + +Neither. + +What, reduced to their simplest reciprocal form, were Bloom’s thoughts +about Stephen’s thoughts about Bloom and about Stephen’s thoughts about +Bloom’s thoughts about Stephen? + +He thought that he thought that he was a jew whereas he knew that he +knew that he knew that he was not. + +What, the enclosures of reticence removed, were their respective +parentages? + +Bloom, only born male transubstantial heir of Rudolf Virag +(subsequently Rudolph Bloom) of Szombathely, Vienna, Budapest, Milan, +London and Dublin and of Ellen Higgins, second daughter of Julius +Higgins (born Karoly) and Fanny Higgins (born Hegarty). Stephen, eldest +surviving male consubstantial heir of Simon Dedalus of Cork and Dublin +and of Mary, daughter of Richard and Christina Goulding (born Grier). + +Had Bloom and Stephen been baptised, and where and by whom, cleric or +layman? + +Bloom (three times), by the reverend Mr Gilmer Johnston M. A., alone, +in the protestant church of Saint Nicholas Without, Coombe, by James +O’Connor, Philip Gilligan and James Fitzpatrick, together, under a pump +in the village of Swords, and by the reverend Charles Malone C. C., in +the church of the Three Patrons, Rathgar. Stephen (once) by the +reverend Charles Malone C. C., alone, in the church of the Three +Patrons, Rathgar. + +Did they find their educational careers similar? + +Substituting Stephen for Bloom Stoom would have passed successively +through a dame’s school and the high school. Substituting Bloom for +Stephen Blephen would have passed successively through the preparatory, +junior, middle and senior grades of the intermediate and through the +matriculation, first arts, second arts and arts degree courses of the +royal university. + +Why did Bloom refrain from stating that he had frequented the +university of life? + +Because of his fluctuating incertitude as to whether this observation +had or had not been already made by him to Stephen or by Stephen to +him. + +What two temperaments did they individually represent? + +The scientific. The artistic. + +What proofs did Bloom adduce to prove that his tendency was towards +applied, rather than towards pure, science? + +Certain possible inventions of which he had cogitated when reclining in +a state of supine repletion to aid digestion, stimulated by his +appreciation of the importance of inventions now common but once +revolutionary, for example, the aeronautic parachute, the reflecting +telescope, the spiral corkscrew, the safety pin, the mineral water +siphon, the canal lock with winch and sluice, the suction pump. + +Were these inventions principally intended for an improved scheme of +kindergarten? + +Yes, rendering obsolete popguns, elastic airbladders, games of hazard, +catapults. They comprised astronomical kaleidoscopes exhibiting the +twelve constellations of the zodiac from Aries to Pisces, miniature +mechanical orreries, arithmetical gelatine lozenges, geometrical to +correspond with zoological biscuits, globemap playing balls, +historically costumed dolls. + +What also stimulated him in his cogitations? + +The financial success achieved by Ephraim Marks and Charles A. James, +the former by his 1d bazaar at 42 George’s street, south, the latter at +his 6 1/2d shop and world’s fancy fair and waxwork exhibition at 30 +Henry street, admission 2d, children 1d: and the infinite possibilities +hitherto unexploited of the modern art of advertisement if condensed in +triliteral monoideal symbols, vertically of maximum visibility +(divined), horizontally of maximum legibility (deciphered) and of +magnetising efficacy to arrest involuntary attention, to interest, to +convince, to decide. + +Such as? + +K. 11. Kino’s 11/— Trousers. +House of Keys. Alexander J. Keyes. + +Such as not? + +Look at this long candle. Calculate when it burns out and you receive +gratis 1 pair of our special non-compo boots, guaranteed 1 candle +power. Address: Barclay and Cook, 18 Talbot street. +Bacilikil (Insect Powder). +Veribest (Boot Blacking). +Uwantit (Combined pocket twoblade penknife with corkscrew, nailfile and +pipecleaner). + +Such as never? + +What is home without Plumtree’s Potted Meat? + +Incomplete. + +With it an abode of bliss. + +Manufactured by George Plumtree, 23 Merchants’ quay, Dublin, put up in +4 oz pots, and inserted by Councillor Joseph P. Nannetti, M. P., +Rotunda Ward, 19 Hardwicke street, under the obituary notices and +anniversaries of deceases. The name on the label is Plumtree. A +plumtree in a meatpot, registered trade mark. Beware of imitations. +Peatmot. Trumplee. Moutpat. Plamtroo. + +Which example did he adduce to induce Stephen to deduce that +originality, though producing its own reward, does not invariably +conduce to success? + +His own ideated and rejected project of an illuminated showcart, drawn +by a beast of burden, in which two smartly dressed girls were to be +seated engaged in writing. + +What suggested scene was then constructed by Stephen? + +Solitary hotel in mountain pass. Autumn. Twilight. Fire lit. In dark +corner young man seated. Young woman enters. Restless. Solitary. She +sits. She goes to window. She stands. She sits. Twilight. She thinks. +On solitary hotel paper she writes. She thinks. She writes. She sighs. +Wheels and hoofs. She hurries out. He comes from his dark corner. He +seizes solitary paper. He holds it towards fire. Twilight. He reads. +Solitary. + +What? + +In sloping, upright and backhands: Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel, +Queen’s Hotel. Queen’s Ho... + +What suggested scene was then reconstructed by Bloom? + +The Queen’s Hotel, Ennis, county Clare, where Rudolph Bloom (Rudolf +Virag) died on the evening of the 27 June 1886, at some hour unstated, +in consequence of an overdose of monkshood (aconite) selfadministered +in the form of a neuralgic liniment composed of 2 parts of aconite +liniment to 1 of chloroform liniment (purchased by him at 10.20 a.m. on +the morning of 27 June 1886 at the medical hall of Francis Dennehy, 17 +Church street, Ennis) after having, though not in consequence of +having, purchased at 3.15 p.m. on the afternoon of 27 June 1886 a new +boater straw hat, extra smart (after having, though not in consequence +of having, purchased at the hour and in the place aforesaid, the toxin +aforesaid), at the general drapery store of James Cullen, 4 Main +street, Ennis. + +Did he attribute this homonymity to information or coincidence or +intuition? + +Coincidence. + +Did he depict the scene verbally for his guest to see? + +He preferred himself to see another’s face and listen to another’s +words by which potential narration was realised and kinetic temperament +relieved. + +Did he see only a second coincidence in the second scene narrated to +him, described by the narrator as _A Pisgah Sight of Palestine_ or _The +Parable of the Plums_? + +It, with the preceding scene and with others unnarrated but existent by +implication, to which add essays on various subjects or moral apothegms +(e.g. _My Favourite Hero_ or _Procrastination is the Thief of Time_) +composed during schoolyears, seemed to him to contain in itself and in +conjunction with the personal equation certain possibilities of +financial, social, personal and sexual success, whether specially +collected and selected as model pedagogic themes (of cent per cent +merit) for the use of preparatory and junior grade students or +contributed in printed form, following the precedent of Philip Beaufoy +or Doctor Dick or Heblon’s _Studies in Blue_, to a publication of +certified circulation and solvency or employed verbally as intellectual +stimulation for sympathetic auditors, tacitly appreciative of +successful narrative and confidently augurative of successful +achievement, during the increasingly longer nights gradually following +the summer solstice on the day but three following, videlicet, Tuesday, +21 June (S. Aloysius Gonzaga), sunrise 3.33 a.m., sunset 8.29 p.m. + +Which domestic problem as much as, if not more than, any other +frequently engaged his mind? + +What to do with our wives. + +What had been his hypothetical singular solutions? + +Parlour games (dominos, halma, tiddledywinks, spilikins, cup and ball, +nap, spoil five, bezique, twentyfive, beggar my neighbour, draughts, +chess or backgammon): embroidery, darning or knitting for the +policeaided clothing society: musical duets, mandoline and guitar, +piano and flute, guitar and piano: legal scrivenery or envelope +addressing: biweekly visits to variety entertainments: commercial +activity as pleasantly commanding and pleasingly obeyed mistress +proprietress in a cool dairy shop or warm cigar divan: the clandestine +satisfaction of erotic irritation in masculine brothels, state +inspected and medically controlled: social visits, at regular +infrequent prevented intervals and with regular frequent preventive +superintendence, to and from female acquaintances of recognised +respectability in the vicinity: courses of evening instruction +specially designed to render liberal instruction agreeable. + +What instances of deficient mental development in his wife inclined him +in favour of the lastmentioned (ninth) solution? + +In disoccupied moments she had more than once covered a sheet of paper +with signs and hieroglyphics which she stated were Greek and Irish and +Hebrew characters. She had interrogated constantly at varying intervals +as to the correct method of writing the capital initial of the name of +a city in Canada, Quebec. She understood little of political +complications, internal, or balance of power, external. In calculating +the addenda of bills she frequently had recourse to digital aid. After +completion of laconic epistolary compositions she abandoned the +implement of calligraphy in the encaustic pigment, exposed to the +corrosive action of copperas, green vitriol and nutgall. Unusual +polysyllables of foreign origin she interpreted phonetically or by +false analogy or by both: metempsychosis (met him pike hoses), _alias_ +(a mendacious person mentioned in sacred scripture). + +What compensated in the false balance of her intelligence for these and +such deficiencies of judgment regarding persons, places and things? + +The false apparent parallelism of all perpendicular arms of all +balances, proved true by construction. The counterbalance of her +proficiency of judgment regarding one person, proved true by +experiment. + +How had he attempted to remedy this state of comparative ignorance? + +Variously. By leaving in a conspicuous place a certain book open at a +certain page: by assuming in her, when alluding explanatorily, latent +knowledge: by open ridicule in her presence of some absent other’s +ignorant lapse. + +With what success had he attempted direct instruction? + +She followed not all, a part of the whole, gave attention with interest +comprehended with surprise, with care repeated, with greater difficulty +remembered, forgot with ease, with misgiving reremembered, rerepeated +with error. + +What system had proved more effective? + +Indirect suggestion implicating selfinterest. + +Example? + +She disliked umbrella with rain, he liked woman with umbrella, she +disliked new hat with rain, he liked woman with new hat, he bought new +hat with rain, she carried umbrella with new hat. + +Accepting the analogy implied in his guest’s parable which examples of +postexilic eminence did he adduce? + +Three seekers of the pure truth, Moses of Egypt, Moses Maimonides, +author of _More Nebukim_ (Guide of the Perplexed) and Moses Mendelssohn +of such eminence that from Moses (of Egypt) to Moses (Mendelssohn) +there arose none like Moses (Maimonides). + +What statement was made, under correction, by Bloom concerning a fourth +seeker of pure truth, by name Aristotle, mentioned, with permission, by +Stephen? + +That the seeker mentioned had been a pupil of a rabbinical philosopher, +name uncertain. + +Were other anapocryphal illustrious sons of the law and children of a +selected or rejected race mentioned? + +Felix Bartholdy Mendelssohn (composer), Baruch Spinoza (philosopher), +Mendoza (pugilist), Ferdinand Lassalle (reformer, duellist). + +What fragments of verse from the ancient Hebrew and ancient Irish +languages were cited with modulations of voice and translation of texts +by guest to host and by host to guest? + +By Stephen: _suil, suil, suil arun, suil go siocair agus suil go cuin_ +(walk, walk, walk your way, walk in safety, walk with care). + +By Bloom: _Kifeloch, harimon rakatejch m’baad l’zamatejch_ (thy temple +amid thy hair is as a slice of pomegranate). + +How was a glyphic comparison of the phonic symbols of both languages +made in substantiation of the oral comparison? + +By juxtaposition. On the penultimate blank page of a book of inferior +literary style, entituled _Sweets of Sin_ (produced by Bloom and so +manipulated that its front cover came in contact with the surface of +the table) with a pencil (supplied by Stephen) Stephen wrote the Irish +characters for gee, eh, dee, em, simple and modified, and Bloom in turn +wrote the Hebrew characters ghimel, aleph, daleth and (in the absence +of mem) a substituted qoph, explaining their arithmetical values as +ordinal and cardinal numbers, videlicet 3, 1, 4, and 100. + +Was the knowledge possessed by both of each of these languages, the +extinct and the revived, theoretical or practical? + +Theoretical, being confined to certain grammatical rules of accidence +and syntax and practically excluding vocabulary. + +What points of contact existed between these languages and between the +peoples who spoke them? + +The presence of guttural sounds, diacritic aspirations, epenthetic and +servile letters in both languages: their antiquity, both having been +taught on the plain of Shinar 242 years after the deluge in the +seminary instituted by Fenius Farsaigh, descendant of Noah, progenitor +of Israel, and ascendant of Heber and Heremon, progenitors of Ireland: +their archaeological, genealogical, hagiographical, exegetical, +homiletic, toponomastic, historical and religious literatures +comprising the works of rabbis and culdees, Torah, Talmud (Mischna and +Ghemara), Massor, Pentateuch, Book of the Dun Cow, Book of Ballymote, +Garland of Howth, Book of Kells: their dispersal, persecution, survival +and revival: the isolation of their synagogical and ecclesiastical +rites in ghetto (S. Mary’s Abbey) and masshouse (Adam and Eve’s +tavern): the proscription of their national costumes in penal laws and +jewish dress acts: the restoration in Chanah David of Zion and the +possibility of Irish political autonomy or devolution. + +What anthem did Bloom chant partially in anticipation of that multiple, +ethnically irreducible consummation? + + Kolod balejwaw pnimah + Nefesch, jehudi, homijah. + +Why was the chant arrested at the conclusion of this first distich? + +In consequence of defective mnemotechnic. + +How did the chanter compensate for this deficiency? + +By a periphrastic version of the general text. + +In what common study did their mutual reflections merge? + +The increasing simplification traceable from the Egyptian epigraphic +hieroglyphs to the Greek and Roman alphabets and the anticipation of +modern stenography and telegraphic code in the cuneiform inscriptions +(Semitic) and the virgular quinquecostate ogham writing (Celtic). + +Did the guest comply with his host’s request? + +Doubly, by appending his signature in Irish and Roman characters. + +What was Stephen’s auditive sensation? + +He heard in a profound ancient male unfamiliar melody the accumulation +of the past. + +What was Bloom’s visual sensation? + +He saw in a quick young male familiar form the predestination of a +future. + +What were Stephen’s and Bloom’s quasisimultaneous volitional +quasisensations of concealed identities? + +Visually, Stephen’s: The traditional figure of hypostasis, depicted by +Johannes Damascenus, Lentulus Romanus and Epiphanius Monachus as +leucodermic, sesquipedalian with winedark hair. + +Auditively, Bloom’s: The traditional accent of the ecstasy of +catastrophe. + +What future careers had been possible for Bloom in the past and with +what exemplars? + +In the church, Roman, Anglican or Nonconformist: exemplars, the very +reverend John Conmee S. J., the reverend T. Salmon, D. D., provost of +Trinity college, Dr Alexander J. Dowie. At the bar, English or Irish: +exemplars, Seymour Bushe, K. C., Rufus Isaacs, K. C. On the stage, +modern or Shakespearean: exemplars, Charles Wyndham, high comedian, +Osmond Tearle († 1901), exponent of Shakespeare. + +Did the host encourage his guest to chant in a modulated voice a +strange legend on an allied theme? + +Reassuringly, their place, where none could hear them talk, being +secluded, reassured, the decocted beverages, allowing for subsolid +residual sediment of a mechanical mixture, water plus sugar plus cream +plus cocoa, having been consumed. + +Recite the first (major) part of this chanted legend. + + Little Harry Hughes and his schoolfellows all + Went out for to play ball. + And the very first ball little Harry Hughes played + He drove it o’er the jew’s garden wall. + And the very second ball little Harry Hughes played + He broke the jew’s windows all. + +littleharryhughes + +How did the son of Rudolph receive this first part? + +With unmixed feeling. Smiling, a jew, he heard with pleasure and saw +the unbroken kitchen window. + +Recite the second part (minor) of the legend. + + Then out there came the jew’s daughter + And she all dressed in green. + “Come back, come back, you pretty little boy, + And play your ball again.” + + I can’t come back and I won’t come back + Without my schoolfellows all. + For if my master he did hear + He’d make it a sorry ball.” + + She took him by the lilywhite hand + And led him along the hall + Until she led him to a room + Where none could hear him call. + + She took a penknife out of her pocket + And cut off his little head. + And now he’ll play his ball no more + For he lies among the dead. + +outcamethejew + +How did the father of Millicent receive this second part? + +With mixed feelings. Unsmiling, he heard and saw with wonder a jew’s +daughter, all dressed in green. + +Condense Stephen’s commentary. + +One of all, the least of all, is the victim predestined. Once by +inadvertence twice by design he challenges his destiny. It comes when +he is abandoned and challenges him reluctant and, as an apparition of +hope and youth, holds him unresisting. It leads him to a strange +habitation, to a secret infidel apartment, and there, implacable, +immolates him, consenting. + +Why was the host (victim predestined) sad? + +He wished that a tale of a deed should be told of a deed not by him +should by him not be told. + +Why was the host (reluctant, unresisting) still? + +In accordance with the law of the conservation of energy. + +Why was the host (secret infidel) silent? + +He weighed the possible evidences for and against ritual murder: the +incitations of the hierarchy, the superstition of the populace, the +propagation of rumour in continued fraction of veridicity, the envy of +opulence, the influence of retaliation, the sporadic reappearance of +atavistic delinquency, the mitigating circumstances of fanaticism, +hypnotic suggestion and somnambulism. + +From which (if any) of these mental or physical disorders was he not +totally immune? + +From hypnotic suggestion: once, waking, he had not recognised his +sleeping apartment: more than once, waking, he had been for an +indefinite time incapable of moving or uttering sounds. From +somnambulism: once, sleeping, his body had risen, crouched and crawled +in the direction of a heatless fire and, having attained its +destination, there, curled, unheated, in night attire had lain, +sleeping. + +Had this latter or any cognate phenomenon declared itself in any member +of his family? + +Twice, in Holles street and in Ontario terrace, his daughter Millicent +(Milly) at the ages of 6 and 8 years had uttered in sleep an +exclamation of terror and had replied to the interrogations of two +figures in night attire with a vacant mute expression. + +What other infantile memories had he of her? + +15 June 1889. A querulous newborn female infant crying to cause and +lessen congestion. A child renamed Padney Socks she shook with shocks +her moneybox: counted his three free moneypenny buttons, one, tloo, +tlee: a doll, a boy, a sailor she cast away: blond, born of two dark, +she had blond ancestry, remote, a violation, Herr Hauptmann Hainau, +Austrian army, proximate, a hallucination, lieutenant Mulvey, British +navy. + +What endemic characteristics were present? + +Conversely the nasal and frontal formation was derived in a direct line +of lineage which, though interrupted, would continue at distant +intervals to more distant intervals to its most distant intervals. + +What memories had he of her adolescence? + +She relegated her hoop and skippingrope to a recess. On the duke’s +lawn, entreated by an English visitor, she declined to permit him to +make and take away her photographic image (objection not stated). On +the South Circular road in the company of Elsa Potter, followed by an +individual of sinister aspect, she went half way down Stamer street and +turned abruptly back (reason of change not stated). On the vigil of the +15th anniversary of her birth she wrote a letter from Mullingar, county +Westmeath, making a brief allusion to a local student (faculty and year +not stated). + +Did that first division, portending a second division, afflict him? + +Less than he had imagined, more than he had hoped. + +What second departure was contemporaneously perceived by him similarly, +if differently? + +A temporary departure of his cat. + +Why similarly, why differently? + +Similarly, because actuated by a secret purpose the quest of a new male +(Mullingar student) or of a healing herb (valerian). Differently, +because of different possible returns to the inhabitants or to the +habitation. + +In other respects were their differences similar? + +In passivity, in economy, in the instinct of tradition, in +unexpectedness. + +As? + +Inasmuch as leaning she sustained her blond hair for him to ribbon it +for her (cf neckarching cat). Moreover, on the free surface of the lake +in Stephen’s green amid inverted reflections of trees her uncommented +spit, describing concentric circles of waterrings, indicated by the +constancy of its permanence the locus of a somnolent prostrate fish (cf +mousewatching cat). Again, in order to remember the date, combatants, +issue and consequences of a famous military engagement she pulled a +plait of her hair (cf earwashing cat). Furthermore, silly Milly, she +dreamed of having had an unspoken unremembered conversation with a +horse whose name had been Joseph to whom (which) she had offered a +tumblerful of lemonade which it (he) had appeared to have accepted (cf +hearthdreaming cat). Hence, in passivity, in economy, in the instinct +of tradition, in unexpectedness, their differences were similar. + +In what way had he utilised gifts (1) an owl, 2) a clock, given as +matrimonial auguries, to interest and to instruct her? + +As object lessons to explain: 1) the nature and habits of oviparous +animals, the possibility of aerial flight, certain abnormalities of +vision, the secular process of imbalsamation: 2) the principle of the +pendulum, exemplified in bob, wheelgear and regulator, the translation +in terms of human or social regulation of the various positions of +clockwise moveable indicators on an unmoving dial, the exactitude of +the recurrence per hour of an instant in each hour when the longer and +the shorter indicator were at the same angle of inclination, +_videlicet_, 5 5/11 minutes past each hour per hour in arithmetical +progression. + +In what manners did she reciprocate? + +She remembered: on the 27th anniversary of his birth she presented to +him a breakfast moustachecup of imitation Crown Derby porcelain ware. +She provided: at quarter day or thereabouts if or when purchases had +been made by him not for her she showed herself attentive to his +necessities, anticipating his desires. She admired: a natural +phenomenon having been explained by him to her she expressed the +immediate desire to possess without gradual acquisition a fraction of +his science, the moiety, the quarter, a thousandth part. + +What proposal did Bloom, diambulist, father of Milly, somnambulist, +make to Stephen, noctambulist? + +To pass in repose the hours intervening between Thursday (proper) and +Friday (normal) on an extemporised cubicle in the apartment immediately +above the kitchen and immediately adjacent to the sleeping apartment of +his host and hostess. + +What various advantages would or might have resulted from a +prolongation of such an extemporisation? + +For the guest: security of domicile and seclusion of study. For the +host: rejuvenation of intelligence, vicarious satisfaction. For the +hostess: disintegration of obsession, acquisition of correct Italian +pronunciation. + +Why might these several provisional contingencies between a guest and a +hostess not necessarily preclude or be precluded by a permanent +eventuality of reconciliatory union between a schoolfellow and a jew’s +daughter? + +Because the way to daughter led through mother, the way to mother +through daughter. + +To what inconsequent polysyllabic question of his host did the guest +return a monosyllabic negative answer? + +If he had known the late Mrs Emily Sinico, accidentally killed at +Sydney Parade railway station, 14 October 1903. + +What inchoate corollary statement was consequently suppressed by the +host? + +A statement explanatory of his absence on the occasion of the interment +of Mrs Mary Dedalus (born Goulding), 26 June 1903, vigil of the +anniversary of the decease of Rudolph Bloom (born Virag). + +Was the proposal of asylum accepted? + +Promptly, inexplicably, with amicability, gratefully it was declined. + +What exchange of money took place between host and guest? + +The former returned to the latter, without interest, a sum of money (£ +1-7-0), one pound seven shillings sterling, advanced by the latter to +the former. + +What counterproposals were alternately advanced, accepted, modified, +declined, restated in other terms, reaccepted, ratified, reconfirmed? + +To inaugurate a prearranged course of Italian instruction, place the +residence of the instructed. To inaugurate a course of vocal +instruction, place the residence of the instructress. To inaugurate a +series of static, semistatic and peripatetic intellectual dialogues, +places the residence of both speakers (if both speakers were resident +in the same place), the _Ship_ hotel and tavern, 6 Lower Abbey street +(W. and E. Connery, proprietors), the National Library of Ireland, 10 +Kildare street, the National Maternity Hospital, 29, 30 and 31 Holles +street, a public garden, the vicinity of a place of worship, a +conjunction of two or more public thoroughfares, the point of bisection +of a right line drawn between their residences (if both speakers were +resident in different places). + +What rendered problematic for Bloom the realisation of these mutually +selfexcluding propositions? + +The irreparability of the past: once at a performance of Albert +Hengler’s circus in the Rotunda, Rutland square, Dublin, an intuitive +particoloured clown in quest of paternity had penetrated from the ring +to a place in the auditorium where Bloom, solitary, was seated and had +publicly declared to an exhilarated audience that he (Bloom) was his +(the clown’s) papa. The imprevidibility of the future: once in the +summer of 1898 he (Bloom) had marked a florin (2/-) with three notches +on the milled edge and tendered it in payment of an account due to and +received by J. and T. Davy, family grocers, 1 Charlemont Mall, Grand +Canal, for circulation on the waters of civic finance, for possible, +circuitous or direct, return. + +Was the clown Bloom’s son? + +No. + +Had Bloom’s coin returned? + +Never. + +Why would a recurrent frustration the more depress him? + +Because at the critical turningpoint of human existence he desired to +amend many social conditions, the product of inequality and avarice and +international animosity. + +He believed then that human life was infinitely perfectible, +eliminating these conditions? + +There remained the generic conditions imposed by natural, as distinct +from human law, as integral parts of the human whole: the necessity of +destruction to procure alimentary sustenance: the painful character of +the ultimate functions of separate existence, the agonies of birth and +death: the monotonous menstruation of simian and (particularly) human +females extending from the age of puberty to the menopause: inevitable +accidents at sea, in mines and factories: certain very painful maladies +and their resultant surgical operations, innate lunacy and congenital +criminality, decimating epidemics: catastrophic cataclysms which make +terror the basis of human mentality: seismic upheavals the epicentres +of which are located in densely populated regions: the fact of vital +growth, through convulsions of metamorphosis, from infancy through +maturity to decay. + +Why did he desist from speculation? + +Because it was a task for a superior intelligence to substitute other +more acceptable phenomena in the place of the less acceptable phenomena +to be removed. + +Did Stephen participate in his dejection? + +He affirmed his significance as a conscious rational animal proceeding +syllogistically from the known to the unknown and a conscious rational +reagent between a micro and a macrocosm ineluctably constructed upon +the incertitude of the void. + +Was this affirmation apprehended by Bloom? + +Not verbally. Substantially. + +What comforted his misapprehension? + +That as a competent keyless citizen he had proceeded energetically from +the unknown to the known through the incertitude of the void. + +In what order of precedence, with what attendant ceremony was the +exodus from the house of bondage to the wilderness of inhabitation +effected? + +Lighted Candle in Stick borne by +BLOOM +Diaconal Hat on Ashplant borne by +STEPHEN + +With what intonation _secreto_ of what commemorative psalm? + +The 113th, _modus peregrinus: In exitu Israël de Egypto: domus Jacob de +populo barbaro_. + +What did each do at the door of egress? + +Bloom set the candlestick on the floor. Stephen put the hat on his +head. + +For what creature was the door of egress a door of ingress? + +For a cat. + +What spectacle confronted them when they, first the host, then the +guest, emerged silently, doubly dark, from obscurity by a passage from +the rere of the house into the penumbra of the garden? + +The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit. + +With what meditations did Bloom accompany his demonstration to his +companion of various constellations? + +Meditations of evolution increasingly vaster: of the moon invisible in +incipient lunation, approaching perigee: of the infinite lattiginous +scintillating uncondensed milky way, discernible by daylight by an +observer placed at the lower end of a cylindrical vertical shaft 5000 +ft deep sunk from the surface towards the centre of the earth: of +Sirius (alpha in Canis Maior) 10 lightyears (57,000,000,000,000 miles) +distant and in volume 900 times the dimension of our planet: of +Arcturus: of the precession of equinoxes: of Orion with belt and +sextuple sun theta and nebula in which 100 of our solar systems could +be contained: of moribund and of nascent new stars such as Nova in +1901: of our system plunging towards the constellation of Hercules: of +the parallax or parallactic drift of socalled fixed stars, in reality +evermoving wanderers from immeasurably remote eons to infinitely remote +futures in comparison with which the years, threescore and ten, of +allotted human life formed a parenthesis of infinitesimal brevity. + +Were there obverse meditations of involution increasingly less vast? + +Of the eons of geological periods recorded in the stratifications of +the earth: of the myriad minute entomological organic existences +concealed in cavities of the earth, beneath removable stones, in hives +and mounds, of microbes, germs, bacteria, bacilli, spermatozoa: of the +incalculable trillions of billions of millions of imperceptible +molecules contained by cohesion of molecular affinity in a single +pinhead: of the universe of human serum constellated with red and white +bodies, themselves universes of void space constellated with other +bodies, each, in continuity, its universe of divisible component bodies +of which each was again divisible in divisions of redivisible component +bodies, dividends and divisors ever diminishing without actual division +till, if the progress were carried far enough, nought nowhere was never +reached. + +Why did he not elaborate these calculations to a more precise result? + +Because some years previously in 1886 when occupied with the problem of +the quadrature of the circle he had learned of the existence of a +number computed to a relative degree of accuracy to be of such +magnitude and of so many places, e.g., the 9th power of the 9th power +of 9, that, the result having been obtained, 33 closely printed volumes +of 1000 pages each of innumerable quires and reams of India paper would +have to be requisitioned in order to contain the complete tale of its +printed integers of units, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of +thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, tens of millions, hundreds +of millions, billions, the nucleus of the nebula of every digit of +every series containing succinctly the potentiality of being raised to +the utmost kinetic elaboration of any power of any of its powers. + +Did he find the problems of the inhabitability of the planets and their +satellites by a race, given in species, and of the possible social and +moral redemption of said race by a redeemer, easier of solution? + +Of a different order of difficulty. Conscious that the human organism, +normally capable of sustaining an atmospheric pressure of 19 tons, when +elevated to a considerable altitude in the terrestrial atmosphere +suffered with arithmetical progression of intensity, according as the +line of demarcation between troposphere and stratosphere was +approximated from nasal hemorrhage, impeded respiration and vertigo, +when proposing this problem for solution, he had conjectured as a +working hypothesis which could not be proved impossible that a more +adaptable and differently anatomically constructed race of beings might +subsist otherwise under Martian, Mercurial, Veneral, Jovian, Saturnian, +Neptunian or Uranian sufficient and equivalent conditions, though an +apogean humanity of beings created in varying forms with finite +differences resulting similar to the whole and to one another would +probably there as here remain inalterably and inalienably attached to +vanities, to vanities of vanities and to all that is vanity. + +And the problem of possible redemption? + +The minor was proved by the major. + +Which various features of the constellations were in turn considered? + +The various colours significant of various degrees of vitality (white, +yellow, crimson, vermilion, cinnabar): their degrees of brilliancy: +their magnitudes revealed up to and including the 7th: their positions: +the waggoner’s star: Walsingham way: the chariot of David: the annular +cinctures of Saturn: the condensation of spiral nebulae into suns: the +interdependent gyrations of double suns: the independent synchronous +discoveries of Galileo, Simon Marius, Piazzi, Le Verrier, Herschel, +Galle: the systematisations attempted by Bode and Kepler of cubes of +distances and squares of times of revolution: the almost infinite +compressibility of hirsute comets and their vast elliptical egressive +and reentrant orbits from perihelion to aphelion: the sidereal origin +of meteoric stones: the Libyan floods on Mars about the period of the +birth of the younger astroscopist: the annual recurrence of meteoric +showers about the period of the feast of S. Lawrence (martyr, 10 +August): the monthly recurrence known as the new moon with the old moon +in her arms: the posited influence of celestial on human bodies: the +appearance of a star (1st magnitude) of exceeding brilliancy dominating +by night and day (a new luminous sun generated by the collision and +amalgamation in incandescence of two nonluminous exsuns) about the +period of the birth of William Shakespeare over delta in the recumbent +neversetting constellation of Cassiopeia and of a star (2nd magnitude) +of similar origin but of lesser brilliancy which had appeared in and +disappeared from the constellation of the Corona Septentrionalis about +the period of the birth of Leopold Bloom and of other stars of +(presumably) similar origin which had (effectively or presumably) +appeared in and disappeared from the constellation of Andromeda about +the period of the birth of Stephen Dedalus, and in and from the +constellation of Auriga some years after the birth and death of Rudolph +Bloom, junior, and in and from other constellations some years before +or after the birth or death of other persons: the attendant phenomena +of eclipses, solar and lunar, from immersion to emersion, abatement of +wind, transit of shadow, taciturnity of winged creatures, emergence of +nocturnal or crepuscular animals, persistence of infernal light, +obscurity of terrestrial waters, pallor of human beings. + +His (Bloom’s) logical conclusion, having weighed the matter and +allowing for possible error? + +That it was not a heaventree, not a heavengrot, not a heavenbeast, not +a heavenman. That it was a Utopia, there being no known method from the +known to the unknown: an infinity renderable equally finite by the +suppositious apposition of one or more bodies equally of the same and +of different magnitudes: a mobility of illusory forms immobilised in +space, remobilised in air: a past which possibly had ceased to exist as +a present before its probable spectators had entered actual present +existence. + +Was he more convinced of the esthetic value of the spectacle? + +Indubitably in consequence of the reiterated examples of poets in the +delirium of the frenzy of attachment or in the abasement of rejection +invoking ardent sympathetic constellations or the frigidity of the +satellite of their planet. + +Did he then accept as an article of belief the theory of astrological +influences upon sublunary disasters? + +It seemed to him as possible of proof as of confutation and the +nomenclature employed in its selenographical charts as attributable to +verifiable intuition as to fallacious analogy: the lake of dreams, the +sea of rains, the gulf of dews, the ocean of fecundity. + +What special affinities appeared to him to exist between the moon and +woman? + +Her antiquity in preceding and surviving successive tellurian +generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her +luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and +setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced +invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to +inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent +waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to +render insane, to incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil +inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant +implacable resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: +the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the +admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, +when visible: her attraction, when invisible. + +What visible luminous sign attracted Bloom’s, who attracted Stephen’s, +gaze? + +In the second storey (rere) of his (Bloom’s) house the light of a +paraffin oil lamp with oblique shade projected on a screen of roller +blind supplied by Frank O’Hara, window blind, curtain pole and +revolving shutter manufacturer, 16 Aungier street. + +How did he elucidate the mystery of an invisible attractive person, his +wife Marion (Molly) Bloom, denoted by a visible splendid sign, a lamp? + +With indirect and direct verbal allusions or affirmations: with subdued +affection and admiration: with description: with impediment: with +suggestion. + +Both then were silent? + +Silent, each contemplating the other in both mirrors of the reciprocal +flesh of theirhisnothis fellowfaces. + +Were they indefinitely inactive? + +At Stephen’s suggestion, at Bloom’s instigation both, first Stephen, +then Bloom, in penumbra urinated, their sides contiguous, their organs +of micturition reciprocally rendered invisible by manual +circumposition, their gazes, first Bloom’s, then Stephen’s, elevated to +the projected luminous and semiluminous shadow. + +Similarly? + +The trajectories of their, first sequent, then simultaneous, urinations +were dissimilar: Bloom’s longer, less irruent, in the incomplete form +of the bifurcated penultimate alphabetical letter, who in his ultimate +year at High School (1880) had been capable of attaining the point of +greatest altitude against the whole concurrent strength of the +institution, 210 scholars: Stephen’s higher, more sibilant, who in the +ultimate hours of the previous day had augmented by diuretic +consumption an insistent vesical pressure. + +What different problems presented themselves to each concerning the +invisible audible collateral organ of the other? + +To Bloom: the problems of irritability, tumescence, rigidity, +reactivity, dimension, sanitariness, pilosity. + +To Stephen: the problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus +circumcised (1 January, holiday of obligation to hear mass and abstain +from unnecessary servile work) and the problem as to whether the divine +prepuce, the carnal bridal ring of the holy Roman catholic apostolic +church, conserved in Calcata, were deserving of simple hyperduly or of +the fourth degree of latria accorded to the abscission of such divine +excrescences as hair and toenails. + +What celestial sign was by both simultaneously observed? + +A star precipitated with great apparent velocity across the firmament +from Vega in the Lyre above the zenith beyond the stargroup of the +Tress of Berenice towards the zodiacal sign of Leo. + +How did the centripetal remainer afford egress to the centrifugal +departer? + +By inserting the barrel of an arruginated male key in the hole of an +unstable female lock, obtaining a purchase on the bow of the key and +turning its wards from right to left, withdrawing a bolt from its +staple, pulling inward spasmodically an obsolescent unhinged door and +revealing an aperture for free egress and free ingress. + +How did they take leave, one of the other, in separation? + +Standing perpendicular at the same door and on different sides of its +base, the lines of their valedictory arms, meeting at any point and +forming any angle less than the sum of two right angles. + +What sound accompanied the union of their tangent, the disunion of +their (respectively) centrifugal and centripetal hands? + +The sound of the peal of the hour of the night by the chime of the +bells in the church of Saint George. + +What echoes of that sound were by both and each heard? + +By Stephen: + + Liliata rutilantium. Turma circumdet. + Iubilantium te virginum. Chorus excipiat. + +By Bloom: + + Heigho, heigho, + Heigho, heigho. + +Where were the several members of the company which with Bloom that day +at the bidding of that peal had travelled from Sandymount in the south +to Glasnevin in the north? + +Martin Cunningham (in bed), Jack Power (in bed), Simon Dedalus (in +bed), Ned Lambert (in bed), Tom Kernan (in bed), Joe Hynes (in bed), +John Henry Menton (in bed), Bernard Corrigan (in bed), Patsy Dignam (in +bed), Paddy Dignam (in the grave). + +Alone, what did Bloom hear? + +The double reverberation of retreating feet on the heavenborn earth, +the double vibration of a jew’s harp in the resonant lane. + +Alone, what did Bloom feel? + +The cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing +point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, Centigrade or Réaumur: the +incipient intimations of proximate dawn. + +Of what did bellchime and handtouch and footstep and lonechill remind +him? + +Of companions now in various manners in different places defunct: Percy +Apjohn (killed in action, Modder River), Philip Gilligan (phthisis, +Jervis Street hospital), Matthew F. Kane (accidental drowning, Dublin +Bay), Philip Moisel (pyemia, Heytesbury street), Michael Hart +(phthisis, Mater Misericordiae hospital), Patrick Dignam (apoplexy, +Sandymount). + +What prospect of what phenomena inclined him to remain? + +The disparition of three final stars, the diffusion of daybreak, the +apparition of a new solar disk. + +Had he ever been a spectator of those phenomena? + +Once, in 1887, after a protracted performance of charades in the house +of Luke Doyle, Kimmage, he had awaited with patience the apparition of +the diurnal phenomenon, seated on a wall, his gaze turned in the +direction of Mizrach, the east. + +He remembered the initial paraphenomena? + +More active air, a matutinal distant cock, ecclesiastical clocks at +various points, avine music, the isolated tread of an early wayfarer, +the visible diffusion of the light of an invisible luminous body, the +first golden limb of the resurgent sun perceptible low on the horizon. + +Did he remain? + +With deep inspiration he returned, retraversing the garden, reentering +the passage, reclosing the door. With brief suspiration he reassumed +the candle, reascended the stairs, reapproached the door of the front +room, hallfloor, and reentered. + +What suddenly arrested his ingress? + +The right temporal lobe of the hollow sphere of his cranium came into +contact with a solid timber angle where, an infinitesimal but sensible +fraction of a second later, a painful sensation was located in +consequence of antecedent sensations transmitted and registered. + +Describe the alterations effected in the disposition of the articles of +furniture. + +A sofa upholstered in prune plush had been translocated from opposite +the door to the ingleside near the compactly furled Union Jack (an +alteration which he had frequently intended to execute): the blue and +white checker inlaid majolicatopped table had been placed opposite the +door in the place vacated by the prune plush sofa: the walnut sideboard +(a projecting angle of which had momentarily arrested his ingress) had +been moved from its position beside the door to a more advantageous but +more perilous position in front of the door: two chairs had been moved +from right and left of the ingleside to the position originally +occupied by the blue and white checker inlaid majolicatopped table. + +Describe them. + +One: a squat stuffed easychair, with stout arms extended and back +slanted to the rere, which, repelled in recoil, had then upturned an +irregular fringe of a rectangular rug and now displayed on its amply +upholstered seat a centralised diffusing and diminishing +discolouration. The other: a slender splayfoot chair of glossy cane +curves, placed directly opposite the former, its frame from top to seat +and from seat to base being varnished dark brown, its seat being a +bright circle of white plaited rush. + +What significances attached to these two chairs? + +Significances of similitude, of posture, of symbolism, of +circumstantial evidence, of testimonial supermanence. + +What occupied the position originally occupied by the sideboard? + +A vertical piano (Cadby) with exposed keyboard, its closed coffin +supporting a pair of long yellow ladies’ gloves and an emerald ashtray +containing four consumed matches, a partly consumed cigarette and two +discoloured ends of cigarettes, its musicrest supporting the music in +the key of G natural for voice and piano of _Love’s Old Sweet Song_ +(words by G. Clifton Bingham, composed by J. L. Molloy, sung by Madam +Antoinette Sterling) open at the last page with the final indications +_ad libitum, forte_, pedal, _animato_, sustained pedal, _ritirando_, +close. + +With what sensations did Bloom contemplate in rotation these objects? + +With strain, elevating a candlestick: with pain, feeling on his right +temple a contused tumescence: with attention, focussing his gaze on a +large dull passive and a slender bright active: with solicitation, +bending and downturning the upturned rugfringe: with amusement, +remembering Dr Malachi Mulligan’s scheme of colour containing the +gradation of green: with pleasure, repeating the words and antecedent +act and perceiving through various channels of internal sensibility the +consequent and concomitant tepid pleasant diffusion of gradual +discolouration. + +His next proceeding? + +From an open box on the majolicatopped table he extracted a black +diminutive cone, one inch in height, placed it on its circular base on +a small tin plate, placed his candlestick on the right corner of the +mantelpiece, produced from his waistcoat a folded page of prospectus +(illustrated) entitled Agendath Netaim, unfolded the same, examined it +superficially, rolled it into a thin cylinder, ignited it in the +candleflame, applied it when ignited to the apex of the cone till the +latter reached the stage of rutilance, placed the cylinder in the basin +of the candlestick disposing its unconsumed part in such a manner as to +facilitate total combustion. + +What followed this operation? + +The truncated conical crater summit of the diminutive volcano emitted a +vertical and serpentine fume redolent of aromatic oriental incense. + +What homothetic objects, other than the candlestick, stood on the +mantelpiece? + +A timepiece of striated Connemara marble, stopped at the hour of 4.46 +a.m. on the 21 March 1896, matrimonial gift of Matthew Dillon: a dwarf +tree of glacial arborescence under a transparent bellshade, matrimonial +gift of Luke and Caroline Doyle: an embalmed owl, matrimonial gift of +Alderman John Hooper. + +What interchanges of looks took place between these three objects and +Bloom? + +In the mirror of the giltbordered pierglass the undecorated back of the +dwarf tree regarded the upright back of the embalmed owl. Before the +mirror the matrimonial gift of Alderman John Hooper with a clear +melancholy wise bright motionless compassionate gaze regarded Bloom +while Bloom with obscure tranquil profound motionless compassionated +gaze regarded the matrimonial gift of Luke and Caroline Doyle. + +What composite asymmetrical image in the mirror then attracted his +attention? + +The image of a solitary (ipsorelative) mutable (aliorelative) man. + +Why solitary (ipsorelative)? + + Brothers and sisters had he none. + Yet that man’s father was his grandfather’s son. + +Why mutable (aliorelative)? + +From infancy to maturity he had resembled his maternal procreatrix. +From maturity to senility he would increasingly resemble his paternal +procreator. + +What final visual impression was communicated to him by the mirror? + +The optical reflection of several inverted volumes improperly arranged +and not in the order of their common letters with scintillating titles +on the two bookshelves opposite. + +Catalogue these books. + +_Thom’s Dublin Post Office Directory_, 1886. + +Denis Florence M’Carthy’s _Poetical Works_ (copper beechleaf bookmark +at p. 5). + +Shakespeare’s _Works_ (dark crimson morocco, goldtooled). + +_The Useful Ready Reckoner_ (brown cloth). + +_The Secret History of the Court of Charles II_ (red cloth, tooled +binding). + +_The Child’s Guide_ (blue cloth). + +_The Beauties of Killarney_ (wrappers). + +_When We Were Boys_ by William O’Brien M. P. (green cloth, slightly +faded, envelope bookmark at p. 217). + +_Thoughts from Spinoza_ (maroon leather). + +_The Story of the Heavens_ by Sir Robert Ball (blue cloth). + +Ellis’s _Three Trips to Madagascar_ (brown cloth, title obliterated). + +_The Stark-Munro Letters_ by A. Conan Doyle, property of the City of +Dublin Public Library, 106 Capel street, lent 21 May (Whitsun Eve) +1904, due 4 June 1904, 13 days overdue (black cloth binding, bearing +white letternumber ticket). + +_Voyages in China_ by “Viator” (recovered with brown paper, red ink +title). + +_Philosophy of the Talmud_ (sewn pamphlet). + +Lockhart’s _Life of Napoleon_ (cover wanting, marginal annotations, +minimising victories, aggrandising defeats of the protagonist). + +_Soll und Haben_ by Gustav Freytag (black boards, Gothic characters, +cigarette coupon bookmark at p. 24). + +Hozier’s _History of the Russo-Turkish War_ (brown cloth, 2 volumes, +with gummed label, Garrison Library, Governor’s Parade, Gibraltar, on +verso of cover). + +_Laurence Bloomfield in Ireland_ by William Allingham (second edition, +green cloth, gilt trefoil design, previous owner’s name on recto of +flyleaf erased). + +_A Handbook of Astronomy_ (cover, brown leather, detached, 5 plates, +antique letterpress long primer, author’s footnotes nonpareil, marginal +clues brevier, captions small pica). + +_The Hidden Life of Christ_ (black boards). + +_In the Track of the Sun_ (yellow cloth, titlepage missing, recurrent +title intestation). + +_Physical Strength and How to Obtain It_ by Eugen Sandow (red cloth). + +_Short but yet Plain Elements of Geometry_ written in French by F. +Ignat. Pardies and rendered into Engliſh by John Harris D. D. London, +printed for R. Knaplock at the Biſhop’s Head, MDCCXI, with dedicatory +epiſtle to his worthy friend Charles Cox, eſquire, Member of Parliament +for the burgh of Southwark and having ink calligraphed statement on the +flyleaf certifying that the book was the property of Michael Gallagher, +dated this 10th day of May 1822 and requeſting the perſon who should +find it, if the book should be loſt or go aſtray, to reſtore it to +Michael Gallagher, carpenter, Dufery Gate, Enniſcorthy, county Wicklow, +the fineſt place in the world. + +What reflections occupied his mind during the process of reversion of +the inverted volumes? + +The necessity of order, a place for everything and everything in its +place: the deficient appreciation of literature possessed by females: +the incongruity of an apple incuneated in a tumbler and of an umbrella +inclined in a closestool: the insecurity of hiding any secret document +behind, beneath or between the pages of a book. + +Which volume was the largest in bulk? + +Hozier’s _History of the Russo-Turkish War._ + +What among other data did the second volume of the work in question +contain? + +The name of a decisive battle (forgotten), frequently remembered by a +decisive officer, major Brian Cooper Tweedy (remembered). + +Why, firstly and secondly, did he not consult the work in question? + +Firstly, in order to exercise mnemotechnic: secondly, because after an +interval of amnesia, when, seated at the central table, about to +consult the work in question, he remembered by mnemotechnic the name of +the military engagement, Plevna. + +What caused him consolation in his sitting posture? + +The candour, nudity, pose, tranquility, youth, grace, sex, counsel of a +statue erect in the centre of the table, an image of Narcissus +purchased by auction from P. A. Wren, 9 Bachelor’s Walk. + +What caused him irritation in his sitting posture? + +Inhibitory pressure of collar (size 17) and waistcoat (5 buttons), two +articles of clothing superfluous in the costume of mature males and +inelastic to alterations of mass by expansion. + +How was the irritation allayed? + +He removed his collar, with contained black necktie and collapsible +stud, from his neck to a position on the left of the table. He +unbuttoned successively in reversed direction waistcoat, trousers, +shirt and vest along the medial line of irregular incrispated black +hairs extending in triangular convergence from the pelvic basin over +the circumference of the abdomen and umbilicular fossicle along the +medial line of nodes to the intersection of the sixth pectoral +vertebrae, thence produced both ways at right angles and terminating in +circles described about two equidistant points, right and left, on the +summits of the mammary prominences. He unbraced successively each of +six minus one braced trouser buttons, arranged in pairs, of which one +incomplete. + +What involuntary actions followed? + +He compressed between 2 fingers the flesh circumjacent to a cicatrice +in the left infracostal region below the diaphragm resulting from a +sting inflicted 2 weeks and 3 days previously (23 May 1904) by a bee. +He scratched imprecisely with his right hand, though insensible of +prurition, various points and surfaces of his partly exposed, wholly +abluted skin. He inserted his left hand into the left lower pocket of +his waistcoat and extracted and replaced a silver coin (1 shilling), +placed there (presumably) on the occasion (17 October 1903) of the +interment of Mrs Emily Sinico, Sydney Parade. + +Compile the budget for 16 June 1904. + + Debit + £. s. d. + 1 Pork kidney 0—0—3 + 1 Copy Freeman’s Journal 0—0—1 + 1 Bath and Gratification 0—1—6 + Tramfare 0—0—1 + 1 In Memoriam Patrick Dignam 0—5—0 + 2 Banbury cakes 0—0—1 + 1 Lunch 0—0—7 + 1 Renewal fee for book 0—1—0 + 1 Packet Notepaper and Envelopes 0—0—2 + 1 Dinner and Gratification 0—2—0 + 1 Postal Order and Stamp 0—2—8 + Tramfare 0—0—1 + 1 Pig’s Foot 0—0—4 + 1 Sheep’s Trotter 0—0—3 + 1 Cake Fry’s Plain Chocolate 0—0—1 + 1 Square Soda Bread 0—0—4 + 1 Coffee and Bun 0—0—4 + Loan (Stephen Dedalus) refunded 1—7—0 + BALANCE 0—16—6 + ————— + 2—19—3 + Credit + £. s. d. + Cash in hand 0—4—9 + Commission recd. Freeman’s Journal 1—7—6 + Loan (Stephen Dedalus) 1—7—0 + ————— + 2—19—3 +Did the process of divestiture continue? + +Did the process of divestiture continue? + +Sensible of a benignant persistent ache in his footsoles he extended +his foot to one side and observed the creases, protuberances and +salient points caused by foot pressure in the course of walking +repeatedly in several different directions, then, inclined, he disnoded +the laceknots, unhooked and loosened the laces, took off each of his +two boots for the second time, detached the partially moistened right +sock through the fore part of which the nail of his great toe had again +effracted, raised his right foot and, having unhooked a purple elastic +sock suspender, took off his right sock, placed his unclothed right +foot on the margin of the seat of his chair, picked at and gently +lacerated the protruding part of the great toenail, raised the part +lacerated to his nostrils and inhaled the odour of the quick, then, +with satisfaction, threw away the lacerated ungual fragment. + +Why with satisfaction? + +Because the odour inhaled corresponded to other odours inhaled of other +ungual fragments, picked and lacerated by Master Bloom, pupil of Mrs +Ellis’s juvenile school, patiently each night in the act of brief +genuflection and nocturnal prayer and ambitious meditation. + +In what ultimate ambition had all concurrent and consecutive ambitions +now coalesced? + +Not to inherit by right of primogeniture, gavelkind or borough English, +or possess in perpetuity an extensive demesne of a sufficient number of +acres, roods and perches, statute land measure (valuation £ 42), of +grazing turbary surrounding a baronial hall with gatelodge and carriage +drive nor, on the other hand, a terracehouse or semidetached villa, +described as _Rus in Urbe_ or _Qui si sana_, but to purchase by private +treaty in fee simple a thatched bungalowshaped 2 storey dwellinghouse +of southerly aspect, surmounted by vane and lightning conductor, +connected with the earth, with porch covered by parasitic plants (ivy +or Virginia creeper), halldoor, olive green, with smart carriage finish +and neat doorbrasses, stucco front with gilt tracery at eaves and +gable, rising, if possible, upon a gentle eminence with agreeable +prospect from balcony with stone pillar parapet over unoccupied and +unoccupyable interjacent pastures and standing in 5 or 6 acres of its +own ground, at such a distance from the nearest public thoroughfare as +to render its houselights visible at night above and through a quickset +hornbeam hedge of topiary cutting, situate at a given point not less +than 1 statute mile from the periphery of the metropolis, within a time +limit of not more than 15 minutes from tram or train line (e.g., +Dundrum, south, or Sutton, north, both localities equally reported by +trial to resemble the terrestrial poles in being favourable climates +for phthisical subjects), the premises to be held under feefarm grant, +lease 999 years, the messuage to consist of 1 drawingroom with +baywindow (2 lancets), thermometer affixed, 1 sittingroom, 4 bedrooms, +2 servants’ rooms, tiled kitchen with close range and scullery, lounge +hall fitted with linen wallpresses, fumed oak sectional bookcase +containing the Encyclopaedia Britannica and New Century Dictionary, +transverse obsolete medieval and oriental weapons, dinner gong, +alabaster lamp, bowl pendant, vulcanite automatic telephone receiver +with adjacent directory, handtufted Axminster carpet with cream ground +and trellis border, loo table with pillar and claw legs, hearth with +massive firebrasses and ormolu mantel chronometer clock, guaranteed +timekeeper with cathedral chime, barometer with hygrographic chart, +comfortable lounge settees and corner fitments, upholstered in ruby +plush with good springing and sunk centre, three banner Japanese screen +and cuspidors (club style, rich winecoloured leather, gloss renewable +with a minimum of labour by use of linseed oil and vinegar) and +pyramidically prismatic central chandelier lustre, bentwood perch with +fingertame parrot (expurgated language), embossed mural paper at 10/- +per dozen with transverse swags of carmine floral design and top crown +frieze, staircase, three continuous flights at successive right angles, +of varnished cleargrained oak, treads and risers, newel, balusters and +handrail, with steppedup panel dado, dressed with camphorated wax: +bathroom, hot and cold supply, reclining and shower: water closet on +mezzanine provided with opaque singlepane oblong window, tipup seat, +bracket lamp, brass tierod and brace, armrests, footstool and artistic +oleograph on inner face of door: ditto, plain: servants’ apartments +with separate sanitary and hygienic necessaries for cook, general and +betweenmaid (salary, rising by biennial unearned increments of £ 2, +with comprehensive fidelity insurance, annual bonus (£ 1) and retiring +allowance (based on the 65 system) after 30 years’ service), pantry, +buttery, larder, refrigerator, outoffices, coal and wood cellarage with +winebin (still and sparkling vintages) for distinguished guests, if +entertained to dinner (evening dress), carbon monoxide gas supply +throughout. + +What additional attractions might the grounds contain? + +As addenda, a tennis and fives court, a shrubbery, a glass summerhouse +with tropical palms, equipped in the best botanical manner, a rockery +with waterspray, a beehive arranged on humane principles, oval +flowerbeds in rectangular grassplots set with eccentric ellipses of +scarlet and chrome tulips, blue scillas, crocuses, polyanthus, sweet +William, sweet pea, lily of the valley (bulbs obtainable from sir James +W. Mackey (Limited) wholesale and retail seed and bulb merchants and +nurserymen, agents for chemical manures, 23 Sackville street, upper), +an orchard, kitchen garden and vinery, protected against illegal +trespassers by glasstopped mural enclosures, a lumbershed with padlock +for various inventoried implements. + +As? + +Eeltraps, lobsterpots, fishingrods, hatchet, steelyard, grindstone, +clodcrusher, swatheturner, carriagesack, telescope ladder, 10 tooth +rake, washing clogs, haytedder, tumbling rake, billhook, paintpot, +brush, hoe and so on. + +What improvements might be subsequently introduced? + +A rabbitry and fowlrun, a dovecote, a botanical conservatory, 2 +hammocks (lady’s and gentleman’s), a sundial shaded and sheltered by +laburnum or lilac trees, an exotically harmonically accorded Japanese +tinkle gatebell affixed to left lateral gatepost, a capacious +waterbutt, a lawnmower with side delivery and grassbox, a lawnsprinkler +with hydraulic hose. + +What facilities of transit were desirable? + +When citybound frequent connection by train or tram from their +respective intermediate station or terminal. When countrybound +velocipedes, a chainless freewheel roadster cycle with side basketcar +attached, or draught conveyance, a donkey with wicker trap or smart +phaeton with good working solidungular cob (roan gelding, 14 h). + +What might be the name of this erigible or erected residence? + +Bloom Cottage. Saint Leopold’s. Flowerville. + +Could Bloom of 7 Eccles street foresee Bloom of Flowerville? + +In loose allwool garments with Harris tweed cap, price 8/6, and useful +garden boots with elastic gussets and wateringcan, planting aligned +young firtrees, syringing, pruning, staking, sowing hayseed, trundling +a weedladen wheelbarrow without excessive fatigue at sunset amid the +scent of newmown hay, ameliorating the soil, multiplying wisdom, +achieving longevity. + +What syllabus of intellectual pursuits was simultaneously possible? + +Snapshot photography, comparative study of religions, folklore relative +to various amatory and superstitious practices, contemplation of the +celestial constellations. + +What lighter recreations? + +Outdoor: garden and fieldwork, cycling on level macadamised causeways, +ascents of moderately high hills, natation in secluded fresh water and +unmolested river boating in secure wherry or light curricle with kedge +anchor on reaches free from weirs and rapids (period of estivation), +vespertinal perambulation or equestrian circumprocession with +inspection of sterile landscape and contrastingly agreeable cottagers’ +fires of smoking peat turves (period of hibernation). Indoor: +discussion in tepid security of unsolved historical and criminal +problems: lecture of unexpurgated exotic erotic masterpieces: house +carpentry with toolbox containing hammer, awl, nails, screws, tintacks, +gimlet, tweezers, bullnose plane and turnscrew. + +Might he become a gentleman farmer of field produce and live stock? + +Not impossibly, with 1 or 2 stripper cows, 1 pike of upland hay and +requisite farming implements, e.g., an end-to-end churn, a turnip +pulper etc. + +What would be his civic functions and social status among the county +families and landed gentry? + +Arranged successively in ascending powers of hierarchical order, that +of gardener, groundsman, cultivator, breeder, and at the zenith of his +career, resident magistrate or justice of the peace with a family crest +and coat of arms and appropriate classical motto _(Semper paratus_), +duly recorded in the court directory (Bloom, Leopold P., M. P., P. C., +K. P., L. L. D. (_honoris causa_), Bloomville, Dundrum) and mentioned +in court and fashionable intelligence (Mr and Mrs Leopold Bloom have +left Kingstown for England). + +What course of action did he outline for himself in such capacity? + +A course that lay between undue clemency and excessive rigour: the +dispensation in a heterogeneous society of arbitrary classes, +incessantly rearranged in terms of greater and lesser social +inequality, of unbiassed homogeneous indisputable justice, tempered +with mitigants of the widest possible latitude but exactable to the +uttermost farthing with confiscation of estate, real and personal, to +the crown. Loyal to the highest constituted power in the land, actuated +by an innate love of rectitude his aims would be the strict maintenance +of public order, the repression of many abuses though not of all +simultaneously (every measure of reform or retrenchment being a +preliminary solution to be contained by fluxion in the final solution), +the upholding of the letter of the law (common, statute and law +merchant) against all traversers in covin and trespassers acting in +contravention of bylaws and regulations, all resuscitators (by trespass +and petty larceny of kindlings) of venville rights, obsolete by +desuetude, all orotund instigators of international persecution, all +perpetuators of international animosities, all menial molestors of +domestic conviviality, all recalcitrant violators of domestic +connubiality. + +Prove that he had loved rectitude from his earliest youth. + +To Master Percy Apjohn at High School in 1880 he had divulged his +disbelief in the tenets of the Irish (protestant) church (to which his +father Rudolf Virag (later Rudolph Bloom) had been converted from the +Israelitic faith and communion in 1865 by the Society for promoting +Christianity among the jews) subsequently abjured by him in favour of +Roman catholicism at the epoch of and with a view to his matrimony in +1888. To Daniel Magrane and Francis Wade in 1882 during a juvenile +friendship (terminated by the premature emigration of the former) he +had advocated during nocturnal perambulations the political theory of +colonial (e.g. Canadian) expansion and the evolutionary theories of +Charles Darwin, expounded in _The Descent of Man_ and _The Origin of +Species_. In 1885 he had publicly expressed his adherence to the +collective and national economic programme advocated by James Fintan +Lalor, John Fisher Murray, John Mitchel, J. F. X. O’Brien and others, +the agrarian policy of Michael Davitt, the constitutional agitation of +Charles Stewart Parnell (M. P. for Cork City), the programme of peace, +retrenchment and reform of William Ewart Gladstone (M. P. for +Midlothian, N. B.) and, in support of his political convictions, had +climbed up into a secure position amid the ramifications of a tree on +Northumberland road to see the entrance (2 February 1888) into the +capital of a demonstrative torchlight procession of 20,000 +torchbearers, divided into 120 trade corporations, bearing 2000 torches +in escort of the marquess of Ripon and (honest) John Morley. + +How much and how did he propose to pay for this country residence? + +As per prospectus of the Industrious Foreign Acclimatised Nationalised +Friendly Stateaided Building Society (incorporated 1874), a maximum of +£ 60 per annum, being 1/6 of an assured income, derived from giltedged +securities, representing at 5 % simple interest on capital of £ 1200 +(estimate of price at 20 years’ purchase), of which 1/3 to be paid on +acquisition and the balance in the form of annual rent, viz. £ 800 plus +2 1/2 % interest on the same, repayable quarterly in equal annual +instalments until extinction by amortisation of loan advanced for +purchase within a period of 20 years, amounting to an annual rental of +£ 64, headrent included, the titledeeds to remain in possession of the +lender or lenders with a saving clause envisaging forced sale, +foreclosure and mutual compensation in the event of protracted failure +to pay the terms assigned, otherwise the messuage to become the +absolute property of the tenant occupier upon expiry of the period of +years stipulated. + +What rapid but insecure means to opulence might facilitate immediate +purchase? + +A private wireless telegraph which would transmit by dot and dash +system the result of a national equine handicap (flat or steeplechase) +of 1 or more miles and furlongs won by an outsider at odds of 50 to 1 +at 3 hr 8 m p.m. at Ascot (Greenwich time), the message being received +and available for betting purposes in Dublin at 2.59 p.m. (Dunsink +time). The unexpected discovery of an object of great monetary value +(precious stone, valuable adhesive or impressed postage stamps (7 +schilling, mauve, imperforate, Hamburg, 1866: 4 pence, rose, blue +paper, perforate, Great Britain, 1855: 1 franc, stone, official, +rouletted, diagonal surcharge, Luxemburg, 1878), antique dynastical +ring, unique relic) in unusual repositories or by unusual means: from +the air (dropped by an eagle in flight), by fire (amid the carbonised +remains of an incendiated edifice), in the sea (amid flotsam, jetsam, +lagan and derelict), on earth (in the gizzard of a comestible fowl). A +Spanish prisoner’s donation of a distant treasure of valuables or +specie or bullion lodged with a solvent banking corporation 100 years +previously at 5% compound interest of the collective worth of £ +5,000,000 stg (five million pounds sterling). A contract with an +inconsiderate contractee for the delivery of 32 consignments of some +given commodity in consideration of cash payment on delivery per +delivery at the initial rate of 1/4d to be increased constantly in the +geometrical progression of 2 (1/4d, 1/2d, 1d, 2d, 4d, 8d, 1s 4d, 2s 8d +to 32 terms). A prepared scheme based on a study of the laws of +probability to break the bank at Monte Carlo. A solution of the secular +problem of the quadrature of the circle, government premium £ 1,000,000 +sterling. + +Was vast wealth acquirable through industrial channels? + +The reclamation of dunams of waste arenary soil, proposed in the +prospectus of Agendath Netaim, Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W. 15, by the +cultivation of orange plantations and melonfields and reafforestation. +The utilisation of waste paper, fells of sewer rodents, human excrement +possessing chemical properties, in view of the vast production of the +first, vast number of the second and immense quantity of the third, +every normal human being of average vitality and appetite producing +annually, cancelling byproducts of water, a sum total of 80 lbs. (mixed +animal and vegetable diet), to be multiplied by 4,386,035, the total +population of Ireland according to census returns of 1901. + +Were there schemes of wider scope? + +A scheme to be formulated and submitted for approval to the harbour +commissioners for the exploitation of white coal (hydraulic power), +obtained by hydroelectric plant at peak of tide at Dublin bar or at +head of water at Poulaphouca or Powerscourt or catchment basins of main +streams for the economic production of 500,000 W. H. P. of electricity. +A scheme to enclose the peninsular delta of the North Bull at +Dollymount and erect on the space of the foreland, used for golf links +and rifle ranges, an asphalted esplanade with casinos, booths, shooting +galleries, hotels, boardinghouses, readingrooms, establishments for +mixed bathing. A scheme for the use of dogvans and goatvans for the +delivery of early morning milk. A scheme for the development of Irish +tourist traffic in and around Dublin by means of petrolpropelled +riverboats, plying in the fluvial fairway between Island bridge and +Ringsend, charabancs, narrow gauge local railways, and pleasure +steamers for coastwise navigation (10/- per person per day, guide +(trilingual) included). A scheme for the repristination of passenger +and goods traffics over Irish waterways, when freed from weedbeds. A +scheme to connect by tramline the Cattle Market (North Circular road +and Prussia street) with the quays (Sheriff street, lower, and East +Wall), parallel with the Link line railway laid (in conjunction with +the Great Southern and Western railway line) between the cattle park, +Liffey junction, and terminus of Midland Great Western Railway 43 to 45 +North Wall, in proximity to the terminal stations or Dublin branches of +Great Central Railway, Midland Railway of England, City of Dublin Steam +Packet Company, Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Company, Dublin and +Glasgow Steam Packet Company, Glasgow, Dublin and Londonderry Steam +Packet Company (Laird line), British and Irish Steam Packet Company, +Dublin and Morecambe Steamers, London and North Western Railway +Company, Dublin Port and Docks Board Landing Sheds and transit sheds of +Palgrave, Murphy and Company, steamship owners, agents for steamers +from Mediterranean, Spain, Portugal, France, Belgium and Holland and +for Liverpool Underwriters’ Association, the cost of acquired rolling +stock for animal transport and of additional mileage operated by the +Dublin United Tramways Company, limited, to be covered by graziers’ +fees. + +Positing what protasis would the contraction for such several schemes +become a natural and necessary apodosis? + +Given a guarantee equal to the sum sought, the support, by deed of gift +and transfer vouchers during donor’s lifetime or by bequest after +donor’s painless extinction, of eminent financiers (Blum Pasha, +Rothschild, Guggenheim, Hirsch, Montefiore, Morgan, Rockefeller) +possessing fortunes in 6 figures, amassed during a successful life, and +joining capital with opportunity the thing required was done. + +What eventuality would render him independent of such wealth? + +The independent discovery of a goldseam of inexhaustible ore. + +For what reason did he meditate on schemes so difficult of realisation? + +It was one of his axioms that similar meditations or the automatic +relation to himself of a narrative concerning himself or tranquil +recollection of the past when practised habitually before retiring for +the night alleviated fatigue and produced as a result sound repose and +renovated vitality. + +His justifications? + +As a physicist he had learned that of the 70 years of complete human +life at least 2/7, viz. 20 years are passed in sleep. As a philosopher +he knew that at the termination of any allotted life only an +infinitesimal part of any person’s desires has been realised. As a +physiologist he believed in the artificial placation of malignant +agencies chiefly operative during somnolence. + +What did he fear? + +The committal of homicide or suicide during sleep by an aberration of +the light of reason, the incommensurable categorical intelligence +situated in the cerebral convolutions. + +What were habitually his final meditations? + +Of some one sole unique advertisement to cause passers to stop in +wonder, a poster novelty, with all extraneous accretions excluded, +reduced to its simplest and most efficient terms not exceeding the span +of casual vision and congruous with the velocity of modern life. + +What did the first drawer unlocked contain? + +A Vere Foster’s handwriting copybook, property of Milly (Millicent) +Bloom, certain pages of which bore diagram drawings, marked _Papli_, +which showed a large globular head with 5 hairs erect, 2 eyes in +profile, the trunk full front with 3 large buttons, 1 triangular foot: +2 fading photographs of queen Alexandra of England and of Maud +Branscombe, actress and professional beauty: a Yuletide card, bearing +on it a pictorial representation of a parasitic plant, the legend +_Mizpah_, the date Xmas 1892, the name of the senders: from Mr + Mrs M. +Comerford, the versicle: _May this Yuletide bring to thee, Joy and +peace and welcome glee_: a butt of red partly liquefied sealing wax, +obtained from the stores department of Messrs Hely’s, Ltd., 89, 90, and +91 Dame street: a box containing the remainder of a gross of gilt “J” +pennibs, obtained from same department of same firm: an old sandglass +which rolled containing sand which rolled: a sealed prophecy (never +unsealed) written by Leopold Bloom in 1886 concerning the consequences +of the passing into law of William Ewart Gladstone’s Home Rule bill of +1886 (never passed into law): a bazaar ticket, No 2004, of S. Kevin’s +Charity Fair, price 6d, 100 prizes: an infantile epistle, dated, small +em monday, reading: capital pee Papli comma capital aitch How are you +note of interrogation capital eye I am very well full stop new +paragraph signature with flourishes capital em Milly no stop: a cameo +brooch, property of Ellen Bloom (born Higgins), deceased: a cameo +scarfpin, property of Rudolph Bloom (born Virag), deceased: 3 +typewritten letters, addressee, Henry Flower, c/o. P. O. Westland Row, +addresser, Martha Clifford, c/o. P. O. Dolphin’s Barn: the +transliterated name and address of the addresser of the 3 letters in +reversed alphabetic boustrophedonic punctated quadrilinear cryptogram +(vowels suppressed) N. IGS./WI. UU. OX/W. OKS. MH/Y. IM: a press +cutting from an English weekly periodical _Modern Society_, subject +corporal chastisement in girls’ schools: a pink ribbon which had +festooned an Easter egg in the year 1899: two partly uncoiled rubber +preservatives with reserve pockets, purchased by post from Box 32, P. +O., Charing Cross, London, W. C.: 1 pack of 1 dozen creamlaid envelopes +and feintruled notepaper, watermarked, now reduced by 3: some assorted +Austrian-Hungarian coins: 2 coupons of the Royal and Privileged +Hungarian Lottery: a lowpower magnifying glass: 2 erotic photocards +showing a) buccal coition between nude senorita (rere presentation, +superior position) and nude torero (fore presentation, inferior +position) b) anal violation by male religious (fully clothed, eyes +abject) of female religious (partly clothed, eyes direct), purchased by +post from Box 32, P. O., Charing Cross, London, W. C.: a press cutting +of recipe for renovation of old tan boots: a 1d adhesive stamp, +lavender, of the reign of Queen Victoria: a chart of the measurements +of Leopold Bloom compiled before, during and after 2 months’ +consecutive use of Sandow-Whiteley’s pulley exerciser (men’s 15/-, +athlete’s 20/-) viz. chest 28 in and 29 1/2 in, biceps 9 in and 10 in, +forearm 8 1/2 in and 9 in, thigh 10 in and 12 in, calf 11 in and 12 in: +1 prospectus of The Wonderworker, the world’s greatest remedy for +rectal complaints, direct from Wonderworker, Coventry House, South +Place, London E C, addressed (erroneously) to Mrs L. Bloom with brief +accompanying note commencing (erroneously): Dear Madam. + +Quote the textual terms in which the prospectus claimed advantages for +this thaumaturgic remedy. + +It heals and soothes while you sleep, in case of trouble in breaking +wind, assists nature in the most formidable way, insuring instant +relief in discharge of gases, keeping parts clean and free natural +action, an initial outlay of 7/6 making a new man of you and life worth +living. Ladies find Wonderworker especially useful, a pleasant surprise +when they note delightful result like a cool drink of fresh spring +water on a sultry summer’s day. Recommend it to your lady and gentlemen +friends, lasts a lifetime. Insert long round end. Wonderworker. + +Were there testimonials? + +Numerous. From clergyman, British naval officer, wellknown author, city +man, hospital nurse, lady, mother of five, absentminded beggar. + +How did absentminded beggar’s concluding testimonial conclude? + +What a pity the government did not supply our men with wonderworkers +during the South African campaign! What a relief it would have been! + +What object did Bloom add to this collection of objects? + +A 4th typewritten letter received by Henry Flower (let H. F. be L. B.) +from Martha Clifford (find M. C.). + +What pleasant reflection accompanied this action? + +The reflection that, apart from the letter in question, his magnetic +face, form and address had been favourably received during the course +of the preceding day by a wife (Mrs Josephine Breen, born Josie +Powell), a nurse, Miss Callan (Christian name unknown), a maid, +Gertrude (Gerty, family name unknown). + +What possibility suggested itself? + +The possibility of exercising virile power of fascination in the not +immediate future after an expensive repast in a private apartment in +the company of an elegant courtesan, of corporal beauty, moderately +mercenary, variously instructed, a lady by origin. + +What did the 2nd drawer contain? + +Documents: the birth certificate of Leopold Paula Bloom: an endowment +assurance policy of £ 500 in the Scottish Widows’ Assurance Society, +intestated Millicent (Milly) Bloom, coming into force at 25 years as +with profit policy of £ 430, £ 462-10-0 and £ 500 at 60 years or death, +65 years or death and death, respectively, or with profit policy +(paidup) of £ 299-10-0 together with cash payment of £ 133-10-0, at +option: a bank passbook issued by the Ulster Bank, College Green branch +showing statement of a/c for halfyear ending 31 December 1903, balance +in depositor’s favour: £ 18-14-6 (eighteen pounds, fourteen shillings +and sixpence, sterling), net personalty: certificate of possession of £ +900, Canadian 4% (inscribed) government stock (free of stamp duty): +dockets of the Catholic Cemeteries’ (Glasnevin) Committee, relative to +a graveplot purchased: a local press cutting concerning change of name +by deedpoll. + +Quote the textual terms of this notice. + +I, Rudolph Virag, now resident at no 52 Clanbrassil street, Dublin, +formerly of Szombathely in the kingdom of Hungary, hereby give notice +that I have assumed and intend henceforth upon all occasions and at all +times to be known by the name of Rudolph Bloom. + +What other objects relative to Rudolph Bloom (born Virag) were in the +2nd drawer? + +An indistinct daguerreotype of Rudolf Virag and his father Leopold +Virag executed in the year 1852 in the portrait atelier of their +(respectively) 1st and 2nd cousin, Stefan Virag of Szesfehervar, +Hungary. An ancient haggadah book in which a pair of hornrimmed convex +spectacles inserted marked the passage of thanksgiving in the ritual +prayers for Pessach (Passover): a photocard of the Queen’s Hotel, +Ennis, proprietor, Rudolph Bloom: an envelope addressed: _To My Dear +Son Leopold_. + +What fractions of phrases did the lecture of those five whole words +evoke? + +Tomorrow will be a week that I received... it is no use Leopold to be +... with your dear mother... that is not more to stand... to her... all +for me is out... be kind to Athos, Leopold... my dear son... always... +of me... _das Herz... Gott... dein_... + +What reminiscences of a human subject suffering from progressive +melancholia did these objects evoke in Bloom? + +An old man, widower, unkempt of hair, in bed, with head covered, +sighing: an infirm dog, Athos: aconite, resorted to by increasing doses +of grains and scruples as a palliative of recrudescent neuralgia: the +face in death of a septuagenarian, suicide by poison. + +Why did Bloom experience a sentiment of remorse? + +Because in immature impatience he had treated with disrespect certain +beliefs and practices. + +As? + +The prohibition of the use of fleshmeat and milk at one meal: the +hebdomadary symposium of incoordinately abstract, perfervidly concrete +mercantile coexreligionist excompatriots: the circumcision of male +infants: the supernatural character of Judaic scripture: the +ineffability of the tetragrammaton: the sanctity of the sabbath. + +How did these beliefs and practices now appear to him? + +Not more rational than they had then appeared, not less rational than +other beliefs and practices now appeared. + +What first reminiscence had he of Rudolph Bloom (deceased)? + +Rudolph Bloom (deceased) narrated to his son Leopold Bloom (aged 6) a +retrospective arrangement of migrations and settlements in and between +Dublin, London, Florence, Milan, Vienna, Budapest, Szombathely with +statements of satisfaction (his grandfather having seen Maria Theresia, +empress of Austria, queen of Hungary), with commercial advice (having +taken care of pence, the pounds having taken care of themselves). +Leopold Bloom (aged 6) had accompanied these narrations by constant +consultation of a geographical map of Europe (political) and by +suggestions for the establishment of affiliated business premises in +the various centres mentioned. + +Had time equally but differently obliterated the memory of these +migrations in narrator and listener? + +In narrator by the access of years and in consequence of the use of +narcotic toxin: in listener by the access of years and in consequence +of the action of distraction upon vicarious experiences. + +What idiosyncracies of the narrator were concomitant products of +amnesia? + +Occasionally he ate without having previously removed his hat. +Occasionally he drank voraciously the juice of gooseberry fool from an +inclined plate. Occasionally he removed from his lips the traces of +food by means of a lacerated envelope or other accessible fragment of +paper. + +What two phenomena of senescence were more frequent? + +The myopic digital calculation of coins, eructation consequent upon +repletion. + +What object offered partial consolation for these reminiscences? + +The endowment policy, the bank passbook, the certificate of the +possession of scrip. + +Reduce Bloom by cross multiplication of reverses of fortune, from which +these supports protected him, and by elimination of all positive values +to a negligible negative irrational unreal quantity. + +Successively, in descending helotic order: Poverty: that of the outdoor +hawker of imitation jewellery, the dun for the recovery of bad and +doubtful debts, the poor rate and deputy cess collector. Mendicancy: +that of the fraudulent bankrupt with negligible assets paying 1/4d in +the £, sandwichman, distributor of throwaways, nocturnal vagrant, +insinuating sycophant, maimed sailor, blind stripling, superannuated +bailiff’s man, marfeast, lickplate, spoilsport, pickthank, eccentric +public laughingstock seated on bench of public park under discarded +perforated umbrella. Destitution: the inmate of Old Man’s House (Royal +Hospital), Kilmainham, the inmate of Simpson’s Hospital for reduced but +respectable men permanently disabled by gout or want of sight. Nadir of +misery: the aged impotent disfranchised ratesupported moribund lunatic +pauper. + +With which attendant indignities? + +The unsympathetic indifference of previously amiable females, the +contempt of muscular males, the acceptance of fragments of bread, the +simulated ignorance of casual acquaintances, the latration of +illegitimate unlicensed vagabond dogs, the infantile discharge of +decomposed vegetable missiles, worth little or nothing, nothing or less +than nothing. + +By what could such a situation be precluded? + +By decease (change of state): by departure (change of place). + +Which preferably? + +The latter, by the line of least resistance. + +What considerations rendered departure not entirely undesirable? + +Constant cohabitation impeding mutual toleration of personal defects. +The habit of independent purchase increasingly cultivated. The +necessity to counteract by impermanent sojourn the permanence of +arrest. + +What considerations rendered departure not irrational? + +The parties concerned, uniting, had increased and multiplied, which +being done, offspring produced and educed to maturity, the parties, if +not disunited were obliged to reunite for increase and multiplication, +which was absurd, to form by reunion the original couple of uniting +parties, which was impossible. + +What considerations rendered departure desirable? + +The attractive character of certain localities in Ireland and abroad, +as represented in general geographical maps of polychrome design or in +special ordnance survey charts by employment of scale numerals and +hachures. + +In Ireland? + +The cliffs of Moher, the windy wilds of Connemara, lough Neagh with +submerged petrified city, the Giant’s Causeway, Fort Camden and Fort +Carlisle, the Golden Vale of Tipperary, the islands of Aran, the +pastures of royal Meath, Brigid’s elm in Kildare, the Queen’s Island +shipyard in Belfast, the Salmon Leap, the lakes of Killarney. + +Abroad? + +Ceylon (with spicegardens supplying tea to Thomas Kernan, agent for +Pulbrook, Robertson and Co, 2 Mincing Lane, London, E. C., 5 Dame +street, Dublin), Jerusalem, the holy city (with mosque of Omar and gate +of Damascus, goal of aspiration), the straits of Gibraltar (the unique +birthplace of Marion Tweedy), the Parthenon (containing statues of nude +Grecian divinities), the Wall street money market (which controlled +international finance), the Plaza de Toros at La Linea, Spain (where +O’Hara of the Camerons had slain the bull), Niagara (over which no +human being had passed with impunity), the land of the Eskimos (eaters +of soap), the forbidden country of Thibet (from which no traveller +returns), the bay of Naples (to see which was to die), the Dead Sea. + +Under what guidance, following what signs? + +At sea, septentrional, by night the polestar, located at the point of +intersection of the right line from beta to alpha in Ursa Maior +produced and divided externally at omega and the hypotenuse of the +rightangled triangle formed by the line alpha omega so produced and the +line alpha delta of Ursa Maior. On land, meridional, a bispherical +moon, revealed in imperfect varying phases of lunation through the +posterior interstice of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a carnose +negligent perambulating female, a pillar of the cloud by day. + +What public advertisement would divulge the occultation of the +departed? + +£ 5 reward, lost, stolen or strayed from his residence 7 Eccles street, +missing gent about 40, answering to the name of Bloom, Leopold (Poldy), +height 5 ft 9 1/2 inches, full build, olive complexion, may have since +grown a beard, when last seen was wearing a black suit. Above sum will +be paid for information leading to his discovery. + +What universal binomial denominations would be his as entity and +nonentity? + +Assumed by any or known to none. Everyman or Noman. + +What tributes his? + +Honour and gifts of strangers, the friends of Everyman. A nymph +immortal, beauty, the bride of Noman. + +Would the departed never nowhere nohow reappear? + +Ever he would wander, selfcompelled, to the extreme limit of his +cometary orbit, beyond the fixed stars and variable suns and telescopic +planets, astronomical waifs and strays, to the extreme boundary of +space, passing from land to land, among peoples, amid events. Somewhere +imperceptibly he would hear and somehow reluctantly, suncompelled, obey +the summons of recall. Whence, disappearing from the constellation of +the Northern Crown he would somehow reappear reborn above delta in the +constellation of Cassiopeia and after incalculable eons of +peregrination return an estranged avenger, a wreaker of justice on +malefactors, a dark crusader, a sleeper awakened, with financial +resources (by supposition) surpassing those of Rothschild or the silver +king. + +What would render such return irrational? + +An unsatisfactory equation between an exodus and return in time through +reversible space and an exodus and return in space through irreversible +time. + +What play of forces, inducing inertia, rendered departure undesirable? + +The lateness of the hour, rendering procrastinatory: the obscurity of +the night, rendering invisible: the uncertainty of thoroughfares, +rendering perilous: the necessity for repose, obviating movement: the +proximity of an occupied bed, obviating research: the anticipation of +warmth (human) tempered with coolness (linen), obviating desire and +rendering desirable: the statue of Narcissus, sound without echo, +desired desire. + +What advantages were possessed by an occupied, as distinct from an +unoccupied bed? + +The removal of nocturnal solitude, the superior quality of human +(mature female) to inhuman (hotwaterjar) calefaction, the stimulation +of matutinal contact, the economy of mangling done on the premises in +the case of trousers accurately folded and placed lengthwise between +the spring mattress (striped) and the woollen mattress (biscuit +section). + +What past consecutive causes, before rising preapprehended, of +accumulated fatigue did Bloom, before rising, silently recapitulate? + +The preparation of breakfast (burnt offering): intestinal congestion +and premeditative defecation (holy of holies): the bath (rite of John): +the funeral (rite of Samuel): the advertisement of Alexander Keyes +(Urim and Thummim): the unsubstantial lunch (rite of Melchisedek): the +visit to museum and national library (holy place): the bookhunt along +Bedford row, Merchants’ Arch, Wellington Quay (Simchath Torah): the +music in the Ormond Hotel (Shira Shirim): the altercation with a +truculent troglodyte in Bernard Kiernan’s premises (holocaust): a blank +period of time including a cardrive, a visit to a house of mourning, a +leavetaking (wilderness): the eroticism produced by feminine +exhibitionism (rite of Onan): the prolonged delivery of Mrs Mina +Purefoy (heave offering): the visit to the disorderly house of Mrs +Bella Cohen, 82 Tyrone street, lower, and subsequent brawl and chance +medley in Beaver street (Armageddon): nocturnal perambulation to and +from the cabman’s shelter, Butt Bridge (atonement). + +What selfimposed enigma did Bloom about to rise in order to go so as to +conclude lest he should not conclude involuntarily apprehend? + +The cause of a brief sharp unforeseen heard loud lone crack emitted by +the insentient material of a strainveined timber table. + +What selfinvolved enigma did Bloom risen, going, gathering +multicoloured multiform multitudinous garments, voluntarily +apprehending, not comprehend? + +Who was M’Intosh? + +What selfevident enigma pondered with desultory constancy during 30 +years did Bloom now, having effected natural obscurity by the +extinction of artificial light, silently suddenly comprehend? + +Where was Moses when the candle went out? + +What imperfections in a perfect day did Bloom, walking, charged with +collected articles of recently disvested male wearing apparel, +silently, successively, enumerate? + +A provisional failure to obtain renewal of an advertisement: to obtain +a certain quantity of tea from Thomas Kernan (agent for Pulbrook, +Robertson and Co, 5 Dame Street, Dublin, and 2 Mincing Lane, London E. +C.): to certify the presence or absence of posterior rectal orifice in +the case of Hellenic female divinities: to obtain admission (gratuitous +or paid) to the performance of _Leah_ by Mrs Bandmann Palmer at the +Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49 South King street. + +What impression of an absent face did Bloom, arrested, silently recall? + +The face of her father, the late Major Brian Cooper Tweedy, Royal +Dublin Fusiliers, of Gibraltar and Rehoboth, Dolphin’s Barn. + +What recurrent impressions of the same were possible by hypothesis? + +Retreating, at the terminus of the Great Northern Railway, Amiens +street, with constant uniform acceleration, along parallel lines +meeting at infinity, if produced: along parallel lines, reproduced from +infinity, with constant uniform retardation, at the terminus of the +Great Northern Railway, Amiens street, returning. + +What miscellaneous effects of female personal wearing apparel were +perceived by him? + +A pair of new inodorous halfsilk black ladies’ hose, a pair of new +violet garters, a pair of outsize ladies’ drawers of India mull, cut on +generous lines, redolent of opoponax, jessamine and Muratti’s Turkish +cigarettes and containing a long bright steel safety pin, folded +curvilinear, a camisole of batiste with thin lace border, an accordion +underskirt of blue silk moirette, all these objects being disposed +irregularly on the top of a rectangular trunk, quadruple battened, +having capped corners, with multicoloured labels, initialled on its +fore side in white lettering B. C. T. (Brian Cooper Tweedy). + +What impersonal objects were perceived? + +A commode, one leg fractured, totally covered by square cretonne +cutting, apple design, on which rested a lady’s black straw hat. +Orangekeyed ware, bought of Henry Price, basket, fancy goods, chinaware +and ironmongery manufacturer, 21, 22, 23 Moore street, disposed +irregularly on the washstand and floor and consisting of basin, +soapdish and brushtray (on the washstand, together), pitcher and night +article (on the floor, separate). + +Bloom’s acts? + +He deposited the articles of clothing on a chair, removed his remaining +articles of clothing, took from beneath the bolster at the head of the +bed a folded long white nightshirt, inserted his head and arms into the +proper apertures of the nightshirt, removed a pillow from the head to +the foot of the bed, prepared the bedlinen accordingly and entered the +bed. + +How? + +With circumspection, as invariably when entering an abode (his own or +not his own): with solicitude, the snakespiral springs of the mattress +being old, the brass quoits and pendent viper radii loose and tremulous +under stress and strain: prudently, as entering a lair or ambush of +lust or adders: lightly, the less to disturb: reverently, the bed of +conception and of birth, of consummation of marriage and of breach of +marriage, of sleep and of death. + +What did his limbs, when gradually extended, encounter? + +New clean bedlinen, additional odours, the presence of a human form, +female, hers, the imprint of a human form, male, not his, some crumbs, +some flakes of potted meat, recooked, which he removed. + +If he had smiled why would he have smiled? + +To reflect that each one who enters imagines himself to be the first to +enter whereas he is always the last term of a preceding series even if +the first term of a succeeding one, each imagining himself to be first, +last, only and alone whereas he is neither first nor last nor only nor +alone in a series originating in and repeated to infinity. + +What preceding series? + +Assuming Mulvey to be the first term of his series, Penrose, Bartell +d’Arcy, professor Goodwin, Julius Mastiansky, John Henry Menton, Father +Bernard Corrigan, a farmer at the Royal Dublin Society’s Horse Show, +Maggot O’Reilly, Matthew Dillon, Valentine Blake Dillon (Lord Mayor of +Dublin), Christopher Callinan, Lenehan, an Italian organgrinder, an +unknown gentleman in the Gaiety Theatre, Benjamin Dollard, Simon +Dedalus, Andrew (Pisser) Burke, Joseph Cuffe, Wisdom Hely, Alderman +John Hooper, Dr Francis Brady, Father Sebastian of Mount Argus, a +bootblack at the General Post Office, Hugh E. (Blazes) Boylan and so +each and so on to no last term. + +What were his reflections concerning the last member of this series and +late occupant of the bed? + +Reflections on his vigour (a bounder), corporal proportion (a +billsticker), commercial ability (a bester), impressionability (a +boaster). + +Why for the observer impressionability in addition to vigour, corporal +proportion and commercial ability? + +Because he had observed with augmenting frequency in the preceding +members of the same series the same concupiscence, inflammably +transmitted, first with alarm, then with understanding, then with +desire, finally with fatigue, with alternating symptoms of epicene +comprehension and apprehension. + +With what antagonistic sentiments were his subsequent reflections +affected? + +Envy, jealousy, abnegation, equanimity. + +Envy? + +Of a bodily and mental male organism specially adapted for the +superincumbent posture of energetic human copulation and energetic +piston and cylinder movement necessary for the complete satisfaction of +a constant but not acute concupiscence resident in a bodily and mental +female organism, passive but not obtuse. + +Jealousy? + +Because a nature full and volatile in its free state, was alternately +the agent and reagent of attraction. Because attraction between +agent(s) and reagent(s) at all instants varied, with inverse proportion +of increase and decrease, with incessant circular extension and radial +reentrance. Because the controlled contemplation of the fluctuation of +attraction produced, if desired, a fluctuation of pleasure. + +Abnegation? + +In virtue of a) acquaintance initiated in September 1903 in the +establishment of George Mesias, merchant tailor and outfitter, 5 Eden +Quay, b) hospitality extended and received in kind, reciprocated and +reappropriated in person, c) comparative youth subject to impulses of +ambition and magnanimity, colleagual altruism and amorous egoism, d) +extraracial attraction, intraracial inhibition, supraracial +prerogative, e) an imminent provincial musical tour, common current +expenses, net proceeds divided. + +Equanimity? + +As as natural as any and every natural act of a nature expressed or +understood executed in natured nature by natural creatures in +accordance with his, her and their natured natures, of dissimilar +similarity. As not so calamitous as a cataclysmic annihilation of the +planet in consequence of a collision with a dark sun. As less +reprehensible than theft, highway robbery, cruelty to children and +animals, obtaining money under false pretences, forgery, embezzlement, +misappropriation of public money, betrayal of public trust, +malingering, mayhem, corruption of minors, criminal libel, blackmail, +contempt of court, arson, treason, felony, mutiny on the high seas, +trespass, burglary, jailbreaking, practice of unnatural vice, desertion +from armed forces in the field, perjury, poaching, usury, intelligence +with the king’s enemies, impersonation, criminal assault, manslaughter, +wilful and premeditated murder. As not more abnormal than all other +parallel processes of adaptation to altered conditions of existence, +resulting in a reciprocal equilibrium between the bodily organism and +its attendant circumstances, foods, beverages, acquired habits, +indulged inclinations, significant disease. As more than inevitable, +irreparable. + +Why more abnegation than jealousy, less envy than equanimity? + +From outrage (matrimony) to outrage (adultery) there arose nought but +outrage (copulation) yet the matrimonial violator of the matrimonially +violated had not been outraged by the adulterous violator of the +adulterously violated. + +What retribution, if any? + +Assassination, never, as two wrongs did not make one right. Duel by +combat, no. Divorce, not now. Exposure by mechanical artifice +(automatic bed) or individual testimony (concealed ocular witnesses), +not yet. Suit for damages by legal influence or simulation of assault +with evidence of injuries sustained (selfinflicted), not impossibly. +Hushmoney by moral influence, possibly. If any, positively, connivance, +introduction of emulation (material, a prosperous rival agency of +publicity: moral, a successful rival agent of intimacy), depreciation, +alienation, humiliation, separation protecting the one separated from +the other, protecting the separator from both. + +By what reflections did he, a conscious reactor against the void of +incertitude, justify to himself his sentiments? + +The preordained frangibility of the hymen: the presupposed +intangibility of the thing in itself: the incongruity and disproportion +between the selfprolonging tension of the thing proposed to be done and +the selfabbreviating relaxation of the thing done: the fallaciously +inferred debility of the female: the muscularity of the male: the +variations of ethical codes: the natural grammatical transition by +inversion involving no alteration of sense of an aorist preterite +proposition (parsed as masculine subject, monosyllabic onomatopoeic +transitive verb with direct feminine object) from the active voice into +its correlative aorist preterite proposition (parsed as feminine +subject, auxiliary verb and quasimonosyllabic onomatopoeic past +participle with complementary masculine agent) in the passive voice: +the continued product of seminators by generation: the continual +production of semen by distillation: the futility of triumph or protest +or vindication: the inanity of extolled virtue: the lethargy of +nescient matter: the apathy of the stars. + +In what final satisfaction did these antagonistic sentiments and +reflections, reduced to their simplest forms, converge? + +Satisfaction at the ubiquity in eastern and western terrestrial +hemispheres, in all habitable lands and islands explored or unexplored +(the land of the midnight sun, the islands of the blessed, the isles of +Greece, the land of promise), of adipose anterior and posterior female +hemispheres, redolent of milk and honey and of excretory sanguine and +seminal warmth, reminiscent of secular families of curves of amplitude, +insusceptible of moods of impression or of contrarieties of expression, +expressive of mute immutable mature animality. + +The visible signs of antesatisfaction? + +An approximate erection: a solicitous adversion: a gradual elevation: a +tentative revelation: a silent contemplation. + +Then? + +He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each +plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure +prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation. + +The visible signs of postsatisfaction? + +A silent contemplation: a tentative velation: a gradual abasement: a +solicitous aversion: a proximate erection. + +What followed this silent action? + +Somnolent invocation, less somnolent recognition, incipient excitation, +catechetical interrogation. + +With what modifications did the narrator reply to this interrogation? + +Negative: he omitted to mention the clandestine correspondence between +Martha Clifford and Henry Flower, the public altercation at, in and in +the vicinity of the licensed premises of Bernard Kiernan and Co, +Limited, 8, 9 and 10 Little Britain street, the erotic provocation and +response thereto caused by the exhibitionism of Gertrude (Gerty), +surname unknown. Positive: he included mention of a performance by Mrs +Bandmann Palmer of _Leah_ at the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49 South +King street, an invitation to supper at Wynn’s (Murphy’s) Hotel, 35, 36 +and 37 Lower Abbey street, a volume of peccaminous pornographical +tendency entituled _Sweets of Sin_, anonymous author a gentleman of +fashion, a temporary concussion caused by a falsely calculated movement +in the course of a postcenal gymnastic display, the victim (since +completely recovered) being Stephen Dedalus, professor and author, +eldest surviving son of Simon Dedalus, of no fixed occupation, an +aeronautical feat executed by him (narrator) in the presence of a +witness, the professor and author aforesaid, with promptitude of +decision and gymnastic flexibility. + +Was the narration otherwise unaltered by modifications? + +Absolutely. + +Which event or person emerged as the salient point of his narration? + +Stephen Dedalus, professor and author. + +What limitations of activity and inhibitions of conjugal rights were +perceived by listener and narrator concerning themselves during the +course of this intermittent and increasingly more laconic narration? + +By the listener a limitation of fertility inasmuch as marriage had been +celebrated 1 calendar month after the 18th anniversary of her birth (8 +September 1870), viz. 8 October, and consummated on the same date with +female issue born 15 June 1889, having been anticipatorily consummated +on the 10 September of the same year and complete carnal intercourse, +with ejaculation of semen within the natural female organ, having last +taken place 5 weeks previous, viz. 27 November 1893, to the birth on 29 +December 1893 of second (and only male) issue, deceased 9 January 1894, +aged 11 days, there remained a period of 10 years, 5 months and 18 days +during which carnal intercourse had been incomplete, without +ejaculation of semen within the natural female organ. By the narrator a +limitation of activity, mental and corporal, inasmuch as complete +mental intercourse between himself and the listener had not taken place +since the consummation of puberty, indicated by catamenic hemorrhage, +of the female issue of narrator and listener, 15 September 1903, there +remained a period of 9 months and 1 day during which, in consequence of +a preestablished natural comprehension in incomprehension between the +consummated females (listener and issue), complete corporal liberty of +action had been circumscribed. + +How? + +By various reiterated feminine interrogation concerning the masculine +destination whither, the place where, the time at which, the duration +for which, the object with which in the case of temporary absences, +projected or effected. + +What moved visibly above the listener’s and the narrator’s invisible +thoughts? + +The upcast reflection of a lamp and shade, an inconstant series of +concentric circles of varying gradations of light and shadow. + +In what directions did listener and narrator lie? + +Listener, S. E. by E.: Narrator, N. W. by W.: on the 53rd parallel of +latitude, N., and 6th meridian of longitude, W.: at an angle of 45° to +the terrestrial equator. + +In what state of rest or motion? + +At rest relatively to themselves and to each other. In motion being +each and both carried westward, forward and rereward respectively, by +the proper perpetual motion of the earth through everchanging tracks of +neverchanging space. + +In what posture? + +Listener: reclined semilaterally, left, left hand under head, right leg +extended in a straight line and resting on left leg, flexed, in the +attitude of Gea-Tellus, fulfilled, recumbent, big with seed. Narrator: +reclined laterally, left, with right and left legs flexed, the index +finger and thumb of the right hand resting on the bridge of the nose, +in the attitude depicted in a snapshot photograph made by Percy Apjohn, +the childman weary, the manchild in the womb. + +Womb? Weary? + +He rests. He has travelled. + +With? + +Sinbad the Sailor and Tinbad the Tailor and Jinbad the Jailer and +Whinbad the Whaler and Ninbad the Nailer and Finbad the Failer and +Binbad the Bailer and Pinbad the Pailer and Minbad the Mailer and +Hinbad the Hailer and Rinbad the Railer and Dinbad the Kailer and +Vinbad the Quailer and Linbad the Yailer and Xinbad the Phthailer. + +When? + +Going to dark bed there was a square round Sinbad the Sailor roc’s +auk’s egg in the night of the bed of all the auks of the rocs of +Darkinbad the Brightdayler. + +Where? + +• + + +[ 18 ] + +Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his +breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the _City Arms_ hotel when +he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his +highness to make himself interesting for that old faggot Mrs Riordan +that he thought he had a great leg of and she never left us a farthing +all for masses for herself and her soul greatest miser ever was +actually afraid to lay out 4d for her methylated spirit telling me all +her ailments she had too much old chat in her about politics and +earthquakes and the end of the world let us have a bit of fun first God +help the world if all the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and +lownecks of course nobody wanted her to wear them I suppose she was +pious because no man would look at her twice I hope Ill never be like +her a wonder she didnt want us to cover our faces but she was a +welleducated woman certainly and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here +and Mr Riordan there I suppose he was glad to get shut of her and her +dog smelling my fur and always edging to get up under my petticoats +especially then still I like that in him polite to old women like that +and waiters and beggars too hes not proud out of nothing but not always +if ever he got anything really serious the matter with him its much +better for them to go into a hospital where everything is clean but I +suppose Id have to dring it into him for a month yes and then wed have +a hospital nurse next thing on the carpet have him staying there till +they throw him out or a nun maybe like the smutty photo he has shes as +much a nun as Im not yes because theyre so weak and puling when theyre +sick they want a woman to get well if his nose bleeds youd think it was +O tragic and that dyinglooking one off the south circular when he +sprained his foot at the choir party at the sugarloaf Mountain the day +I wore that dress Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst old ones +she could find at the bottom of the basket anything at all to get into +a mans bedroom with her old maids voice trying to imagine he was dying +on account of her to never see thy face again though he looked more +like a man with his beard a bit grown in the bed father was the same +besides I hate bandaging and dosing when he cut his toe with the razor +paring his corns afraid hed get bloodpoisoning but if it was a thing I +was sick then wed see what attention only of course the woman hides it +not to give all the trouble they do yes he came somewhere Im sure by +his appetite anyway love its not or hed be off his feed thinking of her +so either it was one of those night women if it was down there he was +really and the hotel story he made up a pack of lies to hide it +planning it Hynes kept me who did I meet ah yes I met do you remember +Menton and who else who let me see that big babbyface I saw him and he +not long married flirting with a young girl at Pooles Myriorama and +turned my back on him when he slinked out looking quite conscious what +harm but he had the impudence to make up to me one time well done to +him mouth almighty and his boiled eyes of all the big stupoes I ever +met and thats called a solicitor only for I hate having a long wrangle +in bed or else if its not that its some little bitch or other he got in +with somewhere or picked up on the sly if they only knew him as well as +I do yes because the day before yesterday he was scribbling something a +letter when I came into the front room to show him Dignams death in the +paper as if something told me and he covered it up with the +blottingpaper pretending to be thinking about business so very probably +that was it to somebody who thinks she has a softy in him because all +men get a bit like that at his age especially getting on to forty he is +now so as to wheedle any money she can out of him no fool like an old +fool and then the usual kissing my bottom was to hide it not that I +care two straws now who he does it with or knew before that way though +Id like to find out so long as I dont have the two of them under my +nose all the time like that slut that Mary we had in Ontario terrace +padding out her false bottom to excite him bad enough to get the smell +of those painted women off him once or twice I had a suspicion by +getting him to come near me when I found the long hair on his coat +without that one when I went into the kitchen pretending he was +drinking water 1 woman is not enough for them it was all his fault of +course ruining servants then proposing that she could eat at our table +on Christmas day if you please O no thank you not in my house stealing +my potatoes and the oysters 2/6 per doz going out to see her aunt if +you please common robbery so it was but I was sure he had something on +with that one it takes me to find out a thing like that he said you +have no proof it was her proof O yes her aunt was very fond of oysters +but I told her what I thought of her suggesting me to go out to be +alone with her I wouldnt lower myself to spy on them the garters I +found in her room the Friday she was out that was enough for me a +little bit too much her face swelled up on her with temper when I gave +her her weeks notice I saw to that better do without them altogether do +out the rooms myself quicker only for the damn cooking and throwing out +the dirt I gave it to him anyhow either she or me leaves the house I +couldnt even touch him if I thought he was with a dirty barefaced liar +and sloven like that one denying it up to my face and singing about the +place in the W C too because she knew she was too well off yes because +he couldnt possibly do without it that long so he must do it somewhere +and the last time he came on my bottom when was it the night Boylan +gave my hand a great squeeze going along by the Tolka in my hand there +steals another I just pressed the back of his like that with my thumb +to squeeze back singing the young May moon shes beaming love because he +has an idea about him and me hes not such a fool he said Im dining out +and going to the Gaiety though Im not going to give him the +satisfaction in any case God knows hes a change in a way not to be +always and ever wearing the same old hat unless I paid some nicelooking +boy to do it since I cant do it myself a young boy would like me Id +confuse him a little alone with him if we were Id let him see my +garters the new ones and make him turn red looking at him seduce him I +know what boys feel with that down on their cheek doing that frigging +drawing out the thing by the hour question and answer would you do this +that and the other with the coalman yes with a bishop yes I would +because I told him about some dean or bishop was sitting beside me in +the jews temples gardens when I was knitting that woollen thing a +stranger to Dublin what place was it and so on about the monuments and +he tired me out with statues encouraging him making him worse than he +is who is in your mind now tell me who are you thinking of who is it +tell me his name who tell me who the german Emperor is it yes imagine +Im him think of him can you feel him trying to make a whore of me what +he never will he ought to give it up now at this age of his life simply +ruination for any woman and no satisfaction in it pretending to like it +till he comes and then finish it off myself anyway and it makes your +lips pale anyhow its done now once and for all with all the talk of the +world about it people make its only the first time after that its just +the ordinary do it and think no more about it why cant you kiss a man +without going and marrying him first you sometimes love to wildly when +you feel that way so nice all over you you cant help yourself I wish +some man or other would take me sometime when hes there and kiss me in +his arms theres nothing like a kiss long and hot down to your soul +almost paralyses you then I hate that confession when I used to go to +Father Corrigan he touched me father and what harm if he did where and +I said on the canal bank like a fool but whereabouts on your person my +child on the leg behind high up was it yes rather high up was it where +you sit down yes O Lord couldnt he say bottom right out and have done +with it what has that got to do with it and did you whatever way he put +it I forget no father and I always think of the real father what did he +want to know for when I already confessed it to God he had a nice fat +hand the palm moist always I wouldnt mind feeling it neither would he +Id say by the bullneck in his horsecollar I wonder did he know me in +the box I could see his face he couldnt see mine of course hed never +turn or let on still his eyes were red when his father died theyre lost +for a woman of course must be terrible when a man cries let alone them +Id like to be embraced by one in his vestments and the smell of incense +off him like the pope besides theres no danger with a priest if youre +married hes too careful about himself then give something to H H the +pope for a penance I wonder was he satisfied with me one thing I didnt +like his slapping me behind going away so familiarly in the hall though +I laughed Im not a horse or an ass am I I suppose he was thinking of +his fathers I wonder is he awake thinking of me or dreaming am I in it +who gave him that flower he said he bought he smelt of some kind of +drink not whisky or stout or perhaps the sweety kind of paste they +stick their bills up with some liqueur Id like to sip those richlooking +green and yellow expensive drinks those stagedoor johnnies drink with +the opera hats I tasted once with my finger dipped out of that American +that had the squirrel talking stamps with father he had all he could do +to keep himself from falling asleep after the last time after we took +the port and potted meat it had a fine salty taste yes because I felt +lovely and tired myself and fell asleep as sound as a top the moment I +popped straight into bed till that thunder woke me up God be merciful +to us I thought the heavens were coming down about us to punish us when +I blessed myself and said a Hail Mary like those awful thunderbolts in +Gibraltar as if the world was coming to an end and then they come and +tell you theres no God what could you do if it was running and rushing +about nothing only make an act of contrition the candle I lit that +evening in Whitefriars street chapel for the month of May see it +brought its luck though hed scoff if he heard because he never goes to +church mass or meeting he says your soul you have no soul inside only +grey matter because he doesnt know what it is to have one yes when I +lit the lamp because he must have come 3 or 4 times with that +tremendous big red brute of a thing he has I thought the vein or +whatever the dickens they call it was going to burst though his nose is +not so big after I took off all my things with the blinds down after my +hours dressing and perfuming and combing it like iron or some kind of a +thick crowbar standing all the time he must have eaten oysters I think +a few dozen he was in great singing voice no I never in all my life +felt anyone had one the size of that to make you feel full up he must +have eaten a whole sheep after whats the idea making us like that with +a big hole in the middle of us or like a Stallion driving it up into +you because thats all they want out of you with that determined vicious +look in his eye I had to halfshut my eyes still he hasnt such a +tremendous amount of spunk in him when I made him pull out and do it on +me considering how big it is so much the better in case any of it wasnt +washed out properly the last time I let him finish it in me nice +invention they made for women for him to get all the pleasure but if +someone gave them a touch of it themselves theyd know what I went +through with Milly nobody would believe cutting her teeth too and Mina +Purefoys husband give us a swing out of your whiskers filling her up +with a child or twins once a year as regular as the clock always with a +smell of children off her the one they called budgers or something like +a nigger with a shock of hair on it Jesusjack the child is a black the +last time I was there a squad of them falling over one another and +bawling you couldnt hear your ears supposed to be healthy not satisfied +till they have us swollen out like elephants or I dont know what +supposing I risked having another not off him though still if he was +married Im sure hed have a fine strong child but I dont know Poldy has +more spunk in him yes thatd be awfully jolly I suppose it was meeting +Josie Powell and the funeral and thinking about me and Boylan set him +off well he can think what he likes now if thatll do him any good I +know they were spooning a bit when I came on the scene he was dancing +and sitting out with her the night of Georgina Simpsons housewarming +and then he wanted to ram it down my neck it was on account of not +liking to see her a wallflower that was why we had the standup row over +politics he began it not me when he said about Our Lord being a +carpenter at last he made me cry of course a woman is so sensitive +about everything I was fuming with myself after for giving in only for +I knew he was gone on me and the first socialist he said He was he +annoyed me so much I couldnt put him into a temper still he knows a lot +of mixedup things especially about the body and the inside I often +wanted to study up that myself what we have inside us in that family +physician I could always hear his voice talking when the room was +crowded and watch him after that I pretended I had a coolness on with +her over him because he used to be a bit on the jealous side whenever +he asked who are you going to and I said over to Floey and he made me +the present of Byrons poems and the three pairs of gloves so that +finished that I could quite easily get him to make it up any time I +know how Id even supposing he got in with her again and was going out +to see her somewhere Id know if he refused to eat the onions I know +plenty of ways ask him to tuck down the collar of my blouse or touch +him with my veil and gloves on going out 1 kiss then would send them +all spinning however alright well see then let him go to her she of +course would only be too delighted to pretend shes mad in love with him +that I wouldnt so much mind Id just go to her and ask her do you love +him and look her square in the eyes she couldnt fool me but he might +imagine he was and make a declaration to her with his plabbery kind of +a manner like he did to me though I had the devils own job to get it +out of him though I liked him for that it showed he could hold in and +wasnt to be got for the asking he was on the pop of asking me too the +night in the kitchen I was rolling the potato cake theres something I +want to say to you only for I put him off letting on I was in a temper +with my hands and arms full of pasty flour in any case I let out too +much the night before talking of dreams so I didnt want to let him know +more than was good for him she used to be always embracing me Josie +whenever he was there meaning him of course glauming me over and when I +said I washed up and down as far as possible asking me and did you wash +possible the women are always egging on to that putting it on thick +when hes there they know by his sly eye blinking a bit putting on the +indifferent when they come out with something the kind he is what +spoils him I dont wonder in the least because he was very handsome at +that time trying to look like Lord Byron I said I liked though he was +too beautiful for a man and he was a little before we got engaged +afterwards though she didnt like it so much the day I was in fits of +laughing with the giggles I couldnt stop about all my hairpins falling +out one after another with the mass of hair I had youre always in great +humour she said yes because it grigged her because she knew what it +meant because I used to tell her a good bit of what went on between us +not all but just enough to make her mouth water but that wasnt my fault +she didnt darken the door much after we were married I wonder what shes +got like now after living with that dotty husband of hers she had her +face beginning to look drawn and run down the last time I saw her she +must have been just after a row with him because I saw on the moment +she was edging to draw down a conversation about husbands and talk +about him to run him down what was it she told me O yes that sometimes +he used to go to bed with his muddy boots on when the maggot takes him +just imagine having to get into bed with a thing like that that might +murder you any moment what a man well its not the one way everyone goes +mad Poldy anyhow whatever he does always wipes his feet on the mat when +he comes in wet or shine and always blacks his own boots too and he +always takes off his hat when he comes up in the street like then and +now hes going about in his slippers to look for £ 10000 for a postcard +U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing like that simply bore you stiff +to extinction actually too stupid even to take his boots off now what +could you make of a man like that Id rather die 20 times over than +marry another of their sex of course hed never find another woman like +me to put up with him the way I do know me come sleep with me yes and +he knows that too at the bottom of his heart take that Mrs Maybrick +that poisoned her husband for what I wonder in love with some other man +yes it was found out on her wasnt she the downright villain to go and +do a thing like that of course some men can be dreadfully aggravating +drive you mad and always the worst word in the world what do they ask +us to marry them for if were so bad as all that comes to yes because +they cant get on without us white Arsenic she put in his tea off +flypaper wasnt it I wonder why they call it that if I asked him hed say +its from the Greek leave us as wise as we were before she must have +been madly in love with the other fellow to run the chance of being +hanged O she didnt care if that was her nature what could she do +besides theyre not brutes enough to go and hang a woman surely are they + +theyre all so different Boylan talking about the shape of my foot he +noticed at once even before he was introduced when I was in the D B C +with Poldy laughing and trying to listen I was waggling my foot we both +ordered 2 teas and plain bread and butter I saw him looking with his +two old maids of sisters when I stood up and asked the girl where it +was what do I care with it dropping out of me and that black closed +breeches he made me buy takes you half an hour to let them down wetting +all myself always with some brandnew fad every other week such a long +one I did I forgot my suede gloves on the seat behind that I never got +after some robber of a woman and he wanted me to put it in the Irish +times lost in the ladies lavatory D B C Dame street finder return to +Mrs Marion Bloom and I saw his eyes on my feet going out through the +turning door he was looking when I looked back and I went there for tea +2 days after in the hope but he wasnt now how did that excite him +because I was crossing them when we were in the other room first he +meant the shoes that are too tight to walk in my hand is nice like that +if I only had a ring with the stone for my month a nice aquamarine Ill +stick him for one and a gold bracelet I dont like my foot so much still +I made him spend once with my foot the night after Goodwins botchup of +a concert so cold and windy it was well we had that rum in the house to +mull and the fire wasnt black out when he asked to take off my +stockings lying on the hearthrug in Lombard street west and another +time it was my muddy boots hed like me to walk in all the horses dung I +could find but of course hes not natural like the rest of the world +that I what did he say I could give 9 points in 10 to Katty Lanner and +beat her what does that mean I asked him I forget what he said because +the stoppress edition just passed and the man with the curly hair in +the Lucan dairy thats so polite I think I saw his face before somewhere +I noticed him when I was tasting the butter so I took my time Bartell +DArcy too that he used to make fun of when he commenced kissing me on +the choir stairs after I sang Gounods _Ave Maria_ what are we waiting +for O my heart kiss me straight on the brow and part which is my brown +part he was pretty hot for all his tinny voice too my low notes he was +always raving about if you can believe him I liked the way he used his +mouth singing then he said wasnt it terrible to do that there in a +place like that I dont see anything so terrible about it Ill tell him +about that some day not now and surprise him ay and Ill take him there +and show him the very place too we did it so now there you are like it +or lump it he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt an +idea about my mother till we were engaged otherwise hed never have got +me so cheap as he did he was 10 times worse himself anyhow begging me +to give him a tiny bit cut off my drawers that was the evening coming +along Kenilworth square he kissed me in the eye of my glove and I had +to take it off asking me questions is it permitted to enquire the shape +of my bedroom so I let him keep it as if I forgot it to think of me +when I saw him slip it into his pocket of course hes mad on the subject +of drawers thats plain to be seen always skeezing at those brazenfaced +things on the bicycles with their skirts blowing up to their navels +even when Milly and I were out with him at the open air fete that one +in the cream muslin standing right against the sun so he could see +every atom she had on when he saw me from behind following in the rain +I saw him before he saw me however standing at the corner of the +Harolds cross road with a new raincoat on him with the muffler in the +Zingari colours to show off his complexion and the brown hat looking +slyboots as usual what was he doing there where hed no business they +can go and get whatever they like from anything at all with a skirt on +it and were not to ask any questions but they want to know where were +you where are you going I could feel him coming along skulking after me +his eyes on my neck he had been keeping away from the house he felt it +was getting too warm for him so I halfturned and stopped then he +pestered me to say yes till I took off my glove slowly watching him he +said my openwork sleeves were too cold for the rain anything for an +excuse to put his hand anear me drawers drawers the whole blessed time +till I promised to give him the pair off my doll to carry about in his +waistcoat pocket _O Maria Santisima_ he did look a big fool dreeping in +the rain splendid set of teeth he had made me hungry to look at them +and beseeched of me to lift the orange petticoat I had on with the +sunray pleats that there was nobody he said hed kneel down in the wet +if I didnt so persevering he would too and ruin his new raincoat you +never know what freak theyd take alone with you theyre so savage for it +if anyone was passing so I lifted them a bit and touched his trousers +outside the way I used to Gardner after with my ring hand to keep him +from doing worse where it was too public I was dying to find out was he +circumcised he was shaking like a jelly all over they want to do +everything too quick take all the pleasure out of it and father waiting +all the time for his dinner he told me to say I left my purse in the +butchers and had to go back for it what a Deceiver then he wrote me +that letter with all those words in it how could he have the face to +any woman after his company manners making it so awkward after when we +met asking me have I offended you with my eyelids down of course he saw +I wasnt he had a few brains not like that other fool Henny Doyle he was +always breaking or tearing something in the charades I hate an unlucky +man and if I knew what it meant of course I had to say no for form sake +dont understand you I said and wasnt it natural so it is of course it +used to be written up with a picture of a womans on that wall in +Gibraltar with that word I couldnt find anywhere only for children +seeing it too young then writing every morning a letter sometimes twice +a day I liked the way he made love then he knew the way to take a woman +when he sent me the 8 big poppies because mine was the 8th then I wrote +the night he kissed my heart at Dolphins barn I couldnt describe it +simply it makes you feel like nothing on earth but he never knew how to +embrace well like Gardner I hope hell come on Monday as he said at the +same time four I hate people who come at all hours answer the door you +think its the vegetables then its somebody and you all undressed or the +door of the filthy sloppy kitchen blows open the day old frostyface +Goodwin called about the concert in Lombard street and I just after +dinner all flushed and tossed with boiling old stew dont look at me +professor I had to say Im a fright yes but he was a real old gent in +his way it was impossible to be more respectful nobody to say youre out +you have to peep out through the blind like the messengerboy today I +thought it was a putoff first him sending the port and the peaches +first and I was just beginning to yawn with nerves thinking he was +trying to make a fool of me when I knew his tattarrattat at the door he +must have been a bit late because it was 1/4 after 3 when I saw the 2 +Dedalus girls coming from school I never know the time even that watch +he gave me never seems to go properly Id want to get it looked after +when I threw the penny to that lame sailor for England home and beauty +when I was whistling there is a charming girl I love and I hadnt even +put on my clean shift or powdered myself or a thing then this day week +were to go to Belfast just as well he has to go to Ennis his fathers +anniversary the 27th it wouldnt be pleasant if he did suppose our rooms +at the hotel were beside each other and any fooling went on in the new +bed I couldnt tell him to stop and not bother me with him in the next +room or perhaps some protestant clergyman with a cough knocking on the +wall then hed never believe the next day we didnt do something its all +very well a husband but you cant fool a lover after me telling him we +never did anything of course he didnt believe me no its better hes +going where he is besides something always happens with him the time +going to the Mallow concert at Maryborough ordering boiling soup for +the two of us then the bell rang out he walks down the platform with +the soup splashing about taking spoonfuls of it hadnt he the nerve and +the waiter after him making a holy show of us screeching and confusion +for the engine to start but he wouldnt pay till he finished it the two +gentlemen in the 3rd class carriage said he was quite right so he was +too hes so pigheaded sometimes when he gets a thing into his head a +good job he was able to open the carriage door with his knife or theyd +have taken us on to Cork I suppose that was done out of revenge on him +O I love jaunting in a train or a car with lovely soft cushions I +wonder will he take a 1st class for me he might want to do it in the +train by tipping the guard well O I suppose therell be the usual idiots +of men gaping at us with their eyes as stupid as ever they can possibly +be that was an exceptional man that common workman that left us alone +in the carriage that day going to Howth Id like to find out something +about him 1 or 2 tunnels perhaps then you have to look out of the +window all the nicer then coming back suppose I never came back what +would they say eloped with him that gets you on on the stage the last +concert I sang at where its over a year ago when was it St Teresas hall +Clarendon St little chits of missies they have now singing Kathleen +Kearney and her like on account of father being in the army and my +singing the absentminded beggar and wearing a brooch for Lord Roberts +when I had the map of it all and Poldy not Irish enough was it him +managed it this time I wouldnt put it past him like he got me on to +sing in the _Stabat Mater_ by going around saying he was putting Lead +Kindly Light to music I put him up to that till the jesuits found out +he was a freemason thumping the piano lead Thou me on copied from some +old opera yes and he was going about with some of them Sinner Fein +lately or whatever they call themselves talking his usual trash and +nonsense he says that little man he showed me without the neck is very +intelligent the coming man Griffiths is he well he doesnt look it thats +all I can say still it must have been him he knew there was a boycott I +hate the mention of their politics after the war that Pretoria and +Ladysmith and Bloemfontein where Gardner lieut Stanley G 8th Bn 2nd +East Lancs Rgt of enteric fever he was a lovely fellow in khaki and +just the right height over me Im sure he was brave too he said I was +lovely the evening we kissed goodbye at the canal lock my Irish beauty +he was pale with excitement about going away or wed be seen from the +road he couldnt stand properly and I so hot as I never felt they could +have made their peace in the beginning or old oom Paul and the rest of +the other old Krugers go and fight it out between them instead of +dragging on for years killing any finelooking men there were with their +fever if he was even decently shot it wouldnt have been so bad I love +to see a regiment pass in review the first time I saw the Spanish +cavalry at La Roque it was lovely after looking across the bay from +Algeciras all the lights of the rock like fireflies or those sham +battles on the 15 acres the Black Watch with their kilts in time at the +march past the 10th hussars the prince of Wales own or the lancers O +the lancers theyre grand or the Dublins that won Tugela his father made +his money over selling the horses for the cavalry well he could buy me +a nice present up in Belfast after what I gave him theyve lovely linen +up there or one of those nice kimono things I must buy a mothball like +I had before to keep in the drawer with them it would be exciting going +round with him shopping buying those things in a new city better leave +this ring behind want to keep turning and turning to get it over the +knuckle there or they might bell it round the town in their papers or +tell the police on me but theyd think were married O let them all go +and smother themselves for the fat lot I care he has plenty of money +and hes not a marrying man so somebody better get it out of him if I +could find out whether he likes me I looked a bit washy of course when +I looked close in the handglass powdering a mirror never gives you the +expression besides scrooching down on me like that all the time with +his big hipbones hes heavy too with his hairy chest for this heat +always having to lie down for them better for him put it into me from +behind the way Mrs Mastiansky told me her husband made her like the +dogs do it and stick out her tongue as far as ever she could and he so +quiet and mild with his tingating cither can you ever be up to men the +way it takes them lovely stuff in that blue suit he had on and stylish +tie and socks with the skyblue silk things on them hes certainly +welloff I know by the cut his clothes have and his heavy watch but he +was like a perfect devil for a few minutes after he came back with the +stoppress tearing up the tickets and swearing blazes because he lost 20 +quid he said he lost over that outsider that won and half he put on for +me on account of Lenehans tip cursing him to the lowest pits that +sponger he was making free with me after the Glencree dinner coming +back that long joult over the featherbed mountain after the lord Mayor +looking at me with his dirty eyes Val Dillon that big heathen I first +noticed him at dessert when I was cracking the nuts with my teeth I +wished I could have picked every morsel of that chicken out of my +fingers it was so tasty and browned and as tender as anything only for +I didnt want to eat everything on my plate those forks and fishslicers +were hallmarked silver too I wish I had some I could easily have +slipped a couple into my muff when I was playing with them then always +hanging out of them for money in a restaurant for the bit you put down +your throat we have to be thankful for our mangy cup of tea itself as a +great compliment to be noticed the way the world is divided in any case +if its going to go on I want at least two other good chemises for one +thing and but I dont know what kind of drawers he likes none at all I +think didnt he say yes and half the girls in Gibraltar never wore them +either naked as God made them that Andalusian singing her Manola she +didnt make much secret of what she hadnt yes and the second pair of +silkette stockings is laddered after one days wear I could have brought +them back to Lewers this morning and kicked up a row and made that one +change them only not to upset myself and run the risk of walking into +him and ruining the whole thing and one of those kidfitting corsets Id +want advertised cheap in the Gentlewoman with elastic gores on the hips +he saved the one I have but thats no good what did they say they give a +delightful figure line 11/6 obviating that unsightly broad appearance +across the lower back to reduce flesh my belly is a bit too big Ill +have to knock off the stout at dinner or am I getting too fond of it +the last they sent from ORourkes was as flat as a pancake he makes his +money easy Larry they call him the old mangy parcel he sent at Xmas a +cottage cake and a bottle of hogwash he tried to palm off as claret +that he couldnt get anyone to drink God spare his spit for fear hed die +of the drouth or I must do a few breathing exercises I wonder is that +antifat any good might overdo it the thin ones are not so much the +fashion now garters that much I have the violet pair I wore today thats +all he bought me out of the cheque he got on the first O no there was +the face lotion I finished the last of yesterday that made my skin like +new I told him over and over again get that made up in the same place +and dont forget it God only knows whether he did after all I said to +him Ill know by the bottle anyway if not I suppose Ill only have to +wash in my piss like beeftea or chickensoup with some of that opoponax +and violet I thought it was beginning to look coarse or old a bit the +skin underneath is much finer where it peeled off there on my finger +after the burn its a pity it isnt all like that and the four paltry +handkerchiefs about 6/- in all sure you cant get on in this world +without style all going in food and rent when I get it Ill lash it +around I tell you in fine style I always want to throw a handful of tea +into the pot measuring and mincing if I buy a pair of old brogues +itself do you like those new shoes yes were they Ive no clothes at all +the brown costume and the skirt and jacket and the one at the cleaners +3 whats that for any woman cutting up this old hat and patching up the +other the men wont look at you and women try to walk on you because +they know youve no man then with all the things getting dearer every +day for the 4 years more I have of life up to 35 no Im what am I at all +Ill be 33 in September will I what O well look at that Mrs Galbraith +shes much older than me I saw her when I was out last week her beautys +on the wane she was a lovely woman magnificent head of hair on her down +to her waist tossing it back like that like Kitty OShea in Grantham +street 1st thing I did every morning to look across see her combing it +as if she loved it and was full of it pity I only got to know her the +day before we left and that Mrs Langtry the jersey lily the prince of +Wales was in love with I suppose hes like the first man going the roads +only for the name of a king theyre all made the one way only a black +mans Id like to try a beauty up to what was she 45 there was some funny +story about the jealous old husband what was it at all and an oyster +knife he went no he made her wear a kind of a tin thing round her and +the prince of Wales yes he had the oyster knife cant be true a thing +like that like some of those books he brings me the works of Master +Francois Somebody supposed to be a priest about a child born out of her +ear because her bumgut fell out a nice word for any priest to write and +her a—e as if any fool wouldnt know what that meant I hate that +pretending of all things with that old blackguards face on him anybody +can see its not true and that Ruby and Fair Tyrants he brought me that +twice I remember when I came to page 50 the part about where she hangs +him up out of a hook with a cord flagellate sure theres nothing for a +woman in that all invention made up about he drinking the champagne out +of her slipper after the ball was over like the infant Jesus in the +crib at Inchicore in the Blessed Virgins arms sure no woman could have +a child that big taken out of her and I thought first it came out of +her side because how could she go to the chamber when she wanted to and +she a rich lady of course she felt honoured H R H he was in Gibraltar +the year I was born I bet he found lilies there too where he planted +the tree he planted more than that in his time he might have planted me +too if hed come a bit sooner then I wouldnt be here as I am he ought to +chuck that Freeman with the paltry few shillings he knocks out of it +and go into an office or something where hed get regular pay or a bank +where they could put him up on a throne to count the money all the day +of course he prefers plottering about the house so you cant stir with +him any side whats your programme today I wish hed even smoke a pipe +like father to get the smell of a man or pretending to be mooching +about for advertisements when he could have been in Mr Cuffes still +only for what he did then sending me to try and patch it up I could +have got him promoted there to be the manager he gave me a great mirada +once or twice first he was as stiff as the mischief really and truly +Mrs Bloom only I felt rotten simply with the old rubbishy dress that I +lost the leads out of the tails with no cut in it but theyre coming +into fashion again I bought it simply to please him I knew it was no +good by the finish pity I changed my mind of going to Todd and Burns as +I said and not Lees it was just like the shop itself rummage sale a lot +of trash I hate those rich shops get on your nerves nothing kills me +altogether only he thinks he knows a great lot about a womans dress and +cooking mathering everything he can scour off the shelves into it if I +went by his advices every blessed hat I put on does that suit me yes +take that thats alright the one like a weddingcake standing up miles +off my head he said suited me or the dishcover one coming down on my +backside on pins and needles about the shopgirl in that place in +Grafton street I had the misfortune to bring him into and she as +insolent as ever she could be with her smirk saying Im afraid were +giving you too much trouble what shes there for but I stared it out of +her yes he was awfully stiff and no wonder but he changed the second +time he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual like the soup but I could see +him looking very hard at my chest when he stood up to open the door for +me it was nice of him to show me out in any case Im extremely sorry Mrs +Bloom believe me without making it too marked the first time after him +being insulted and me being supposed to be his wife I just half smiled +I know my chest was out that way at the door when he said Im extremely +sorry and Im sure you were + +yes I think he made them a bit firmer sucking them like that so long he +made me thirsty titties he calls them I had to laugh yes this one +anyhow stiff the nipple gets for the least thing Ill get him to keep +that up and Ill take those eggs beaten up with marsala fatten them out +for him what are all those veins and things curious the way its made 2 +the same in case of twins theyre supposed to represent beauty placed up +there like those statues in the museum one of them pretending to hide +it with her hand are they so beautiful of course compared with what a +man looks like with his two bags full and his other thing hanging down +out of him or sticking up at you like a hatrack no wonder they hide it +with a cabbageleaf that disgusting Cameron highlander behind the meat +market or that other wretch with the red head behind the tree where the +statue of the fish used to be when I was passing pretending he was +pissing standing out for me to see it with his babyclothes up to one +side the Queens own they were a nice lot its well the Surreys relieved +them theyre always trying to show it to you every time nearly I passed +outside the mens greenhouse near the Harcourt street station just to +try some fellow or other trying to catch my eye as if it was 1 of the 7 +wonders of the world O and the stink of those rotten places the night +coming home with Poldy after the Comerfords party oranges and lemonade +to make you feel nice and watery I went into 1 of them it was so biting +cold I couldnt keep it when was that 93 the canal was frozen yes it was +a few months after a pity a couple of the Camerons werent there to see +me squatting in the mens place meadero I tried to draw a picture of it +before I tore it up like a sausage or something I wonder theyre not +afraid going about of getting a kick or a bang of something there the +woman is beauty of course thats admitted when he said I could pose for +a picture naked to some rich fellow in Holles street when he lost the +job in Helys and I was selling the clothes and strumming in the coffee +palace would I be like that bath of the nymph with my hair down yes +only shes younger or Im a little like that dirty bitch in that Spanish +photo he has nymphs used they go about like that I asked him about her +and that word met something with hoses in it and he came out with some +jawbreakers about the incarnation he never can explain a thing simply +the way a body can understand then he goes and burns the bottom out of +the pan all for his Kidney this one not so much theres the mark of his +teeth still where he tried to bite the nipple I had to scream out arent +they fearful trying to hurt you I had a great breast of milk with Milly +enough for two what was the reason of that he said I could have got a +pound a week as a wet nurse all swelled out the morning that delicate +looking student that stopped in no 28 with the Citrons Penrose nearly +caught me washing through the window only for I snapped up the towel to +my face that was his studenting hurt me they used to weaning her till +he got doctor Brady to give me the belladonna prescription I had to get +him to suck them they were so hard he said it was sweeter and thicker +than cows then he wanted to milk me into the tea well hes beyond +everything I declare somebody ought to put him in the budget if I only +could remember the one half of the things and write a book out of it +the works of Master Poldy yes and its so much smoother the skin much an +hour he was at them Im sure by the clock like some kind of a big infant +I had at me they want everything in their mouth all the pleasure those +men get out of a woman I can feel his mouth O Lord I must stretch +myself I wished he was here or somebody to let myself go with and come +again like that I feel all fire inside me or if I could dream it when +he made me spend the 2nd time tickling me behind with his finger I was +coming for about 5 minutes with my legs round him I had to hug him +after O Lord I wanted to shout out all sorts of things fuck or shit or +anything at all only not to look ugly or those lines from the strain +who knows the way hed take it you want to feel your way with a man +theyre not all like him thank God some of them want you to be so nice +about it I noticed the contrast he does it and doesnt talk I gave my +eyes that look with my hair a bit loose from the tumbling and my tongue +between my lips up to him the savage brute Thursday Friday one Saturday +two Sunday three O Lord I cant wait till Monday + +frseeeeeeeefronnnng train somewhere whistling the strength those +engines have in them like big giants and the water rolling all over and +out of them all sides like the end of Loves old sweeeetsonnnng the poor +men that have to be out all the night from their wives and families in +those roasting engines stifling it was today Im glad I burned the half +of those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that lying +about hes getting very careless and threw the rest of them up in the W +C I’ll get him to cut them tomorrow for me instead of having them there +for the next year to get a few pence for them have him asking wheres +last Januarys paper and all those old overcoats I bundled out of the +hall making the place hotter than it is that rain was lovely and +refreshing just after my beauty sleep I thought it was going to get +like Gibraltar my goodness the heat there before the levanter came on +black as night and the glare of the rock standing up in it like a big +giant compared with their 3 Rock mountain they think is so great with +the red sentries here and there the poplars and they all whitehot and +the smell of the rainwater in those tanks watching the sun all the time +weltering down on you faded all that lovely frock fathers friend Mrs +Stanhope sent me from the B Marche paris what a shame my dearest +Doggerina she wrote on it she was very nice whats this her other name +was just a p c to tell you I sent the little present have just had a +jolly warm bath and feel a very clean dog now enjoyed it wogger she +called him wogger wd give anything to be back in Gib and hear you sing +Waiting and in old Madrid Concone is the name of those exercises he +bought me one of those new some word I couldnt make out shawls amusing +things but tear for the least thing still there lovely I think dont you +will always think of the lovely teas we had together scrumptious +currant scones and raspberry wafers I adore well now dearest Doggerina +be sure and write soon kind she left out regards to your father also +Captain Grove with love yrs affly Hester x x x x x she didnt look a bit +married just like a girl he was years older than her wogger he was +awfully fond of me when he held down the wire with his foot for me to +step over at the bullfight at La Linea when that matador Gomez was +given the bulls ear these clothes we have to wear whoever invented them +expecting you to walk up Killiney hill then for example at that picnic +all staysed up you cant do a blessed thing in them in a crowd run or +jump out of the way thats why I was afraid when that other ferocious +old Bull began to charge the banderilleros with the sashes and the 2 +things in their hats and the brutes of men shouting bravo toro sure the +women were as bad in their nice white mantillas ripping all the whole +insides out of those poor horses I never heard of such a thing in all +my life yes he used to break his heart at me taking off the dog barking +in bell lane poor brute and it sick what became of them ever I suppose +theyre dead long ago the 2 of them its like all through a mist makes +you feel so old I made the scones of course I had everything all to +myself then a girl Hester we used to compare our hair mine was thicker +than hers she showed me how to settle it at the back when I put it up +and whats this else how to make a knot on a thread with the one hand we +were like cousins what age was I then the night of the storm I slept in +her bed she had her arms round me then we were fighting in the morning +with the pillow what fun he was watching me whenever he got an +opportunity at the band on the Alameda esplanade when I was with father +and Captain Grove I looked up at the church first and then at the +windows then down and our eyes met I felt something go through me like +all needles my eyes were dancing I remember after when I looked at +myself in the glass hardly recognised myself the change he was +attractive to a girl in spite of his being a little bald intelligent +looking disappointed and gay at the same time he was like Thomas in the +shadow of Ashlydyat I had a splendid skin from the sun and the +excitement like a rose I didnt get a wink of sleep it wouldnt have been +nice on account of her but I could have stopped it in time she gave me +the Moonstone to read that was the first I read of Wilkie Collins East +Lynne I read and the shadow of Ashlydyat Mrs Henry Wood Henry Dunbar by +that other woman I lent him afterwards with Mulveys photo in it so as +he see I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave +me by Mrs Hungerford on account of the name I dont like books with a +Molly in them like that one he brought me about the one from Flanders a +whore always shoplifting anything she could cloth and stuff and yards +of it O this blanket is too heavy on me thats better I havent even one +decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me besides him and +his fooling thats better I used to be weltering then in the heat my +shift drenched with the sweat stuck in the cheeks of my bottom on the +chair when I stood up they were so fattish and firm when I got up on +the sofa cushions to see with my clothes up and the bugs tons of them +at night and the mosquito nets I couldnt read a line Lord how long ago +it seems centuries of course they never came back and she didnt put her +address right on it either she may have noticed her wogger people were +always going away and we never I remember that day with the waves and +the boats with their high heads rocking and the smell of ship those +Officers uniforms on shore leave made me seasick he didnt say anything +he was very serious I had the high buttoned boots on and my skirt was +blowing she kissed me six or seven times didnt I cry yes I believe I +did or near it my lips were taittering when I said goodbye she had a +Gorgeous wrap of some special kind of blue colour on her for the voyage +made very peculiarly to one side like and it was extremely pretty it +got as dull as the devil after they went I was almost planning to run +away mad out of it somewhere were never easy where we are father or +aunt or marriage waiting always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me +waiting nor speeeed his flying feet their damn guns bursting and +booming all over the shop especially the Queens birthday and throwing +everything down in all directions if you didnt open the windows when +general Ulysses Grant whoever he was or did supposed to be some great +fellow landed off the ship and old Sprague the consul that was there +from before the flood dressed up poor man and he in mourning for the +son then the same old bugles for reveille in the morning and drums +rolling and the unfortunate poor devils of soldiers walking about with +messtins smelling the place more than the old longbearded jews in their +jellibees and levites assembly and sound clear and gunfire for the men +to cross the lines and the warden marching with his keys to lock the +gates and the bagpipes and only captain Groves and father talking about +Rorkes drift and Plevna and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum +lighting their pipes for them everytime they went out drunken old devil +with his grog on the windowsill catch him leaving any of it picking his +nose trying to think of some other dirty story to tell up in a corner +but he never forgot himself when I was there sending me out of the room +on some blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky +talking of course but hed do the same to the next woman that came along +I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago the days like years not a +letter from a living soul except the odd few I posted to myself with +bits of paper in them so bored sometimes I could fight with my nails +listening to that old Arab with the one eye and his heass of an +instrument singing his heah heah aheah all my compriment on your +hotchapotch of your heass as bad as now with the hands hanging off me +looking out of the window if there was a nice fellow even in the +opposite house that medical in Holles street the nurse was after when I +put on my gloves and hat at the window to show I was going out not a +notion what I meant arent they thick never understand what you say even +youd want to print it up on a big poster for them not even if you shake +hands twice with the left he didnt recognise me either when I half +frowned at him outside Westland row chapel where does their great +intelligence come in Id like to know grey matter they have it all in +their tail if you ask me those country gougers up in the City Arms +intelligence they had a damn sight less than the bulls and cows they +were selling the meat and the coalmans bell that noisy bugger trying to +swindle me with the wrong bill he took out of his hat what a pair of +paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend any broken bottles for a +poor man today and no visitors or post ever except his cheques or some +advertisement like that wonderworker they sent him addressed dear Madam +only his letter and the card from Milly this morning see she wrote a +letter to him who did I get the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what +possessed her to write from Canada after so many years to know the +recipe I had for pisto madrileno Floey Dillon since she wrote to say +she was married to a very rich architect if Im to believe all I hear +with a villa and eight rooms her father was an awfully nice man he was +near seventy always goodhumoured well now Miss Tweedy or Miss Gillespie +theres the piannyer that was a solid silver coffee service he had too +on the mahogany sideboard then dying so far away I hate people that +have always their poor story to tell everybody has their own troubles +that poor Nancy Blake died a month ago of acute neumonia well I didnt +know her so well as all that she was Floeys friend more than mine poor +Nancy its a bother having to answer he always tells me the wrong things +and no stops to say like making a speech your sad bereavement +symph̸athy I always make that mistake and new̸phew with 2 double yous +in I hope hell write me a longer letter the next time if its a thing he +really likes me O thanks be to the great God I got somebody to give me +what I badly wanted to put some heart up into me youve no chances at +all in this place like you used long ago I wish somebody would write me +a loveletter his wasnt much and I told him he could write what he liked +yours ever Hugh Boylan in old Madrid stuff silly women believe love is +sighing I am dying still if he wrote it I suppose thered be some truth +in it true or no it fills up your whole day and life always something +to think about every moment and see it all round you like a new world I +could write the answer in bed to let him imagine me short just a few +words not those long crossed letters Atty Dillon used to write to the +fellow that was something in the four courts that jilted her after out +of the ladies letterwriter when I told her to say a few simple words he +could twist how he liked not acting with precipat precipitancy with +equal candour the greatest earthly happiness answer to a gentlemans +proposal affirmatively my goodness theres nothing else its all very +fine for them but as for being a woman as soon as youre old they might +as well throw you out in the bottom of the ashpit. + +Mulveys was the first when I was in bed that morning and Mrs Rubio +brought it in with the coffee she stood there standing when I asked her +to hand me and I pointing at them I couldnt think of the word a hairpin +to open it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it staring her +in the face with her switch of false hair on her and vain about her +appearance ugly as she was near 80 or a 100 her face a mass of wrinkles +with all her religion domineering because she never could get over the +Atlantic fleet coming in half the ships of the world and the Union Jack +flying with all her carabineros because 4 drunken English sailors took +all the rock from them and because I didnt run into mass often enough +in Santa Maria to please her with her shawl up on her except when there +was a marriage on with all her miracles of the saints and her black +blessed virgin with the silver dress and the sun dancing 3 times on +Easter Sunday morning and when the priest was going by with the bell +bringing the vatican to the dying blessing herself for his Majestad an +admirer he signed it I near jumped out of my skin I wanted to pick him +up when I saw him following me along the Calle Real in the shop window +then he tipped me just in passing but I never thought hed write making +an appointment I had it inside my petticoat bodice all day reading it +up in every hole and corner while father was up at the drill +instructing to find out by the handwriting or the language of stamps +singing I remember shall I wear a white rose and I wanted to put on the +old stupid clock to near the time he was the first man kissed me under +the Moorish wall my sweetheart when a boy it never entered my head what +kissing meant till he put his tongue in my mouth his mouth was +sweetlike young I put my knee up to him a few times to learn the way +what did I tell him I was engaged for for fun to the son of a Spanish +nobleman named Don Miguel de la Flora and he believed me that I was to +be married to him in 3 years time theres many a true word spoken in +jest there is a flower that bloometh a few things I told him true about +myself just for him to be imagining the Spanish girls he didnt like I +suppose one of them wouldnt have him I got him excited he crushed all +the flowers on my bosom he brought me he couldnt count the pesetas and +the perragordas till I taught him Cappoquin he came from he said on the +black water but it was too short then the day before he left May yes it +was May when the infant king of Spain was born Im always like that in +the spring Id like a new fellow every year up on the tiptop under the +rockgun near OHaras tower I told him it was struck by lightning and all +about the old Barbary apes they sent to Clapham without a tail +careering all over the show on each others back Mrs Rubio said she was +a regular old rock scorpion robbing the chickens out of Inces farm and +throw stones at you if you went anear he was looking at me I had that +white blouse on open in the front to encourage him as much as I could +without too openly they were just beginning to be plump I said I was +tired we lay over the firtree cove a wild place I suppose it must be +the highest rock in existence the galleries and casemates and those +frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the icicles or whatever +they call them hanging down and ladders all the mud plotching my boots +Im sure thats the way down the monkeys go under the sea to Africa when +they die the ships out far like chips that was the Malta boat passing +yes the sea and the sky you could do what you liked lie there for ever +he caressed them outside they love doing that its the roundness there I +was leaning over him with my white ricestraw hat to take the newness +out of it the left side of my face the best my blouse open for his last +day transparent kind of shirt he had I could see his chest pink he +wanted to touch mine with his for a moment but I wouldnt let him he was +awfully put out first for fear you never know consumption or leave me +with a child embarazada that old servant Ines told me that one drop +even if it got into you at all after I tried with the Banana but I was +afraid it might break and get lost up in me somewhere because they once +took something down out of a woman that was up there for years covered +with limesalts theyre all mad to get in there where they come out of +youd think they could never go far enough up and then theyre done with +you in a way till the next time yes because theres a wonderful feeling +there so tender all the time how did we finish it off yes O yes I +pulled him off into my handkerchief pretending not to be excited but I +opened my legs I wouldnt let him touch me inside my petticoat because I +had a skirt opening up the side I tormented the life out of him first +tickling him I loved rousing that dog in the hotel rrrsssstt +awokwokawok his eyes shut and a bird flying below us he was shy all the +same I liked him like that moaning I made him blush a little when I got +over him that way when I unbuttoned him and took his out and drew back +the skin it had a kind of eye in it theyre all Buttons men down the +middle on the wrong side of them Molly darling he called me what was +his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it yes I think a lieutenant he was +rather fair he had a laughing kind of a voice so I went round to the +whatyoucallit everything was whatyoucallit moustache had he he said hed +come back Lord its just like yesterday to me and if I was married hed +do it to me and I promised him yes faithfully Id let him block me now +flying perhaps hes dead or killed or a captain or admiral its nearly 20 +years if I said firtree cove he would if he came up behind me and put +his hands over my eyes to guess who I might recognise him hes young +still about 40 perhaps hes married some girl on the black water and is +quite changed they all do they havent half the character a woman has +she little knows what I did with her beloved husband before he ever +dreamt of her in broad daylight too in the sight of the whole world you +might say they could have put an article about it in the Chronicle I +was a bit wild after when I blew out the old bag the biscuits were in +from Benady Bros and exploded it Lord what a bang all the woodcocks and +pigeons screaming coming back the same way that we went over middle +hill round by the old guardhouse and the jews burialplace pretending to +read out the Hebrew on them I wanted to fire his pistol he said he +hadnt one he didnt know what to make of me with his peak cap on that he +always wore crooked as often as I settled it straight H M S Calypso +swinging my hat that old Bishop that spoke off the altar his long +preach about womans higher functions about girls now riding the bicycle +and wearing peak caps and the new woman bloomers God send him sense and +me more money I suppose theyre called after him I never thought that +would be my name Bloom when I used to write it in print to see how it +looked on a visiting card or practising for the butcher and oblige M +Bloom youre looking blooming Josie used to say after I married him well +its better than Breen or Briggs does brig or those awful names with +bottom in them Mrs Ramsbottom or some other kind of a bottom Mulvey I +wouldnt go mad about either or suppose I divorced him Mrs Boylan my +mother whoever she was might have given me a nicer name the Lord knows +after the lovely one she had Lunita Laredo the fun we had running along +Williss road to Europa point twisting in and out all round the other +side of Jersey they were shaking and dancing about in my blouse like +Millys little ones now when she runs up the stairs I loved looking down +at them I was jumping up at the pepper trees and the white poplars +pulling the leaves off and throwing them at him he went to India he was +to write the voyages those men have to make to the ends of the world +and back its the least they might get a squeeze or two at a woman while +they can going out to be drowned or blown up somewhere I went up +Windmill hill to the flats that Sunday morning with captain Rubios that +was dead spyglass like the sentry had he said hed have one or two from +on board I wore that frock from the B Marche paris and the coral +necklace the straits shining I could see over to Morocco almost the bay +of Tangier white and the Atlas mountain with snow on it and the straits +like a river so clear Harry Molly darling I was thinking of him on the +sea all the time after at mass when my petticoat began to slip down at +the elevation weeks and weeks I kept the handkerchief under my pillow +for the smell of him there was no decent perfume to be got in that +Gibraltar only that cheap peau dEspagne that faded and left a stink on +you more than anything else I wanted to give him a memento he gave me +that clumsy Claddagh ring for luck that I gave Gardner going to south +Africa where those Boers killed him with their war and fever but they +were well beaten all the same as if it brought its bad luck with it +like an opal or pearl still it must have been pure 18 carrot gold +because it was very heavy but what could you get in a place like that +the sandfrog shower from Africa and that derelict ship that came up to +the harbour Marie the Marie whatyoucallit no he hadnt a moustache that +was Gardner yes I can see his face cleanshaven +Frseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeefrong that train again weeping tone once in the +dear deaead days beyondre call close my eyes breath my lips forward +kiss sad look eyes open piano ere oer the world the mists began I hate +that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let that out full +when I get in front of the footlights again Kathleen Kearney and her +lot of squealers Miss This Miss That Miss Theother lot of sparrowfarts +skitting around talking about politics they know as much about as my +backside anything in the world to make themselves someway interesting +Irish homemade beauties soldiers daughter am I ay and whose are you +bootmakers and publicans I beg your pardon coach I thought you were a +wheelbarrow theyd die down dead off their feet if ever they got a +chance of walking down the Alameda on an officers arm like me on the +bandnight my eyes flash my bust that they havent passion God help their +poor head I knew more about men and life when I was 15 than theyll all +know at 50 they dont know how to sing a song like that Gardner said no +man could look at my mouth and teeth smiling like that and not think of +it I was afraid he mightnt like my accent first he so English all +father left me in spite of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and figure +anyhow he always said theyre so snotty about themselves some of those +cads he wasnt a bit like that he was dead gone on my lips let them get +a husband first thats fit to be looked at and a daughter like mine or +see if they can excite a swell with money that can pick and choose +whoever he wants like Boylan to do it 4 or 5 times locked in each +others arms or the voice either I could have been a prima donna only I +married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too much make it +double My Ladys Bower is too long for an encore about the moated grange +at twilight and vaunted rooms yes Ill sing Winds that blow from the +south that he gave after the choirstairs performance Ill change that +lace on my black dress to show off my bubs and Ill yes by God Ill get +that big fan mended make them burst with envy my hole is itching me +always when I think of him I feel I want to I feel some wind in me +better go easy not wake him have him at it again slobbering after +washing every bit of myself back belly and sides if we had even a bath +itself or my own room anyway I wish hed sleep in some bed by himself +with his cold feet on me give us room even to let a fart God or do the +least thing better yes hold them like that a bit on my side piano +quietly sweeeee theres that train far away pianissimo eeeee one more +song + +that was a relief wherever you be let your wind go free who knows if +that pork chop I took with my cup of tea after was quite good with the +heat I couldnt smell anything off it Im sure that queerlooking man in +the porkbutchers is a great rogue I hope that lamp is not smoking fill +my nose up with smuts better than having him leaving the gas on all +night I couldnt rest easy in my bed in Gibraltar even getting up to see +why am I so damned nervous about that though I like it in the winter +its more company O Lord it was rotten cold too that winter when I was +only about ten was I yes I had the big doll with all the funny clothes +dressing her up and undressing that icy wind skeeting across from those +mountains the something Nevada sierra nevada standing at the fire with +the little bit of a short shift I had up to heat myself I loved dancing +about in it then make a race back into bed Im sure that fellow opposite +used to be there the whole time watching with the lights out in the +summer and I in my skin hopping around I used to love myself then +stripped at the washstand dabbing and creaming only when it came to the +chamber performance I put out the light too so then there were 2 of us +goodbye to my sleep for this night anyhow I hope hes not going to get +in with those medicals leading him astray to imagine hes young again +coming in at 4 in the morning it must be if not more still he had the +manners not to wake me what do they find to gabber about all night +squandering money and getting drunker and drunker couldnt they drink +water then he starts giving us his orders for eggs and tea and Findon +haddy and hot buttered toast I suppose well have him sitting up like +the king of the country pumping the wrong end of the spoon up and down +in his egg wherever he learned that from and I love to hear him falling +up the stairs of a morning with the cups rattling on the tray and then +play with the cat she rubs up against you for her own sake I wonder has +she fleas shes as bad as a woman always licking and lecking but I hate +their claws I wonder do they see anything that we cant staring like +that when she sits at the top of the stairs so long and listening as I +wait always what a robber too that lovely fresh plaice I bought I think +Ill get a bit of fish tomorrow or today is it Friday yes I will with +some blancmange with black currant jam like long ago not those 2 lb +pots of mixed plum and apple from the London and Newcastle Williams and +Woods goes twice as far only for the bones I hate those eels cod yes +Ill get a nice piece of cod Im always getting enough for 3 forgetting +anyway Im sick of that everlasting butchers meat from Buckleys loin +chops and leg beef and rib steak and scrag of mutton and calfs pluck +the very name is enough or a picnic suppose we all gave 5/- each and or +let him pay it and invite some other woman for him who Mrs Fleming and +drove out to the furry glen or the strawberry beds wed have him +examining all the horses toenails first like he does with the letters +no not with Boylan there yes with some cold veal and ham mixed +sandwiches there are little houses down at the bottom of the banks +there on purpose but its as hot as blazes he says not a bank holiday +anyhow I hate those ruck of Mary Ann coalboxes out for the day Whit +Monday is a cursed day too no wonder that bee bit him better the +seaside but Id never again in this life get into a boat with him after +him at Bray telling the boatman he knew how to row if anyone asked +could he ride the steeplechase for the gold cup hed say yes then it +came on to get rough the old thing crookeding about and the weight all +down my side telling me pull the right reins now pull the left and the +tide all swamping in floods in through the bottom and his oar slipping +out of the stirrup its a mercy we werent all drowned he can swim of +course me no theres no danger whatsoever keep yourself calm in his +flannel trousers Id like to have tattered them down off him before all +the people and give him what that one calls flagellate till he was +black and blue do him all the good in the world only for that longnosed +chap I dont know who he is with that other beauty Burke out of the City +Arms hotel was there spying around as usual on the slip always where he +wasnt wanted if there was a row on youd vomit a better face there was +no love lost between us thats 1 consolation I wonder what kind is that +book he brought me Sweets of Sin by a gentleman of fashion some other +Mr de Kock I suppose the people gave him that nickname going about with +his tube from one woman to another I couldnt even change my new white +shoes all ruined with the saltwater and the hat I had with that feather +all blowy and tossed on me how annoying and provoking because the smell +of the sea excited me of course the sardines and the bream in Catalan +bay round the back of the rock they were fine all silver in the +fishermens baskets old Luigi near a hundred they said came from Genoa +and the tall old chap with the earrings I dont like a man you have to +climb up to to get at I suppose theyre all dead and rotten long ago +besides I dont like being alone in this big barracks of a place at +night I suppose Ill have to put up with it I never brought a bit of +salt in even when we moved in the confusion musical academy he was +going to make on the first floor drawingroom with a brassplate or +Blooms private hotel he suggested go and ruin himself altogether the +way his father did down in Ennis like all the things he told father he +was going to do and me but I saw through him telling me all the lovely +places we could go for the honeymoon Venice by moonlight with the +gondolas and the lake of Como he had a picture cut out of some paper of +and mandolines and lanterns O how nice I said whatever I liked he was +going to do immediately if not sooner will you be my man will you carry +my can he ought to get a leather medal with a putty rim for all the +plans he invents then leaving us here all day youd never know what old +beggar at the door for a crust with his long story might be a tramp and +put his foot in the way to prevent me shutting it like that picture of +that hardened criminal he was called in Lloyds Weekly news 20 years in +jail then he comes out and murders an old woman for her money imagine +his poor wife or mother or whoever she is such a face youd run miles +away from I couldnt rest easy till I bolted all the doors and windows +to make sure but its worse again being locked up like in a prison or a +madhouse they ought to be all shot or the cat of nine tails a big brute +like that that would attack a poor old woman to murder her in her bed +Id cut them off him so I would not that hed be much use still better +than nothing the night I was sure I heard burglars in the kitchen and +he went down in his shirt with a candle and a poker as if he was +looking for a mouse as white as a sheet frightened out of his wits +making as much noise as he possibly could for the burglars benefit +there isnt much to steal indeed the Lord knows still its the feeling +especially now with Milly away such an idea for him to send the girl +down there to learn to take photographs on account of his grandfather +instead of sending her to Skerrys academy where shed have to learn not +like me getting all at school only hed do a thing like that all the +same on account of me and Boylan thats why he did it Im certain the way +he plots and plans everything out I couldnt turn round with her in the +place lately unless I bolted the door first gave me the fidgets coming +in without knocking first when I put the chair against the door just as +I was washing myself there below with the glove get on your nerves then +doing the loglady all day put her in a glasscase with two at a time to +look at her if he knew she broke off the hand off that little gimcrack +statue with her roughness and carelessness before she left that I got +that little Italian boy to mend so that you cant see the join for 2 +shillings wouldnt even teem the potatoes for you of course shes right +not to ruin her hands I noticed he was always talking to her lately at +the table explaining things in the paper and she pretending to +understand sly of course that comes from his side of the house he cant +say I pretend things can he Im too honest as a matter of fact and +helping her into her coat but if there was anything wrong with her its +me shed tell not him I suppose he thinks Im finished out and laid on +the shelf well Im not no nor anything like it well see well see now +shes well on for flirting too with Tom Devans two sons imitating me +whistling with those romps of Murray girls calling for her can Milly +come out please shes in great demand to pick what they can out of her +round in Nelson street riding Harry Devans bicycle at night its as well +he sent her where she is she was just getting out of bounds wanting to +go on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I +smelt it off her dress when I was biting off the thread of the button I +sewed on to the bottom of her jacket she couldnt hide much from me I +tell you only I oughtnt to have stitched it and it on her it brings a +parting and the last plumpudding too split in 2 halves see it comes out +no matter what they say her tongue is a bit too long for my taste your +blouse is open too low she says to me the pan calling the kettle +blackbottom and I had to tell her not to cock her legs up like that on +show on the windowsill before all the people passing they all look at +her like me when I was her age of course any old rag looks well on you +then a great touchmenot too in her own way at the Only Way in the +Theatre royal take your foot away out of that I hate people touching me +afraid of her life Id crush her skirt with the pleats a lot of that +touching must go on in theatres in the crush in the dark theyre always +trying to wiggle up to you that fellow in the pit at the Gaiety for +Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last time Ill ever go there to be squashed +like that for any Trilby or her barebum every two minutes tipping me +there and looking away hes a bit daft I think I saw him after trying to +get near two stylishdressed ladies outside Switzers window at the same +little game I recognised him on the moment the face and everything but +he didnt remember me yes and she didnt even want me to kiss her at the +Broadstone going away well I hope shell get someone to dance attendance +on her the way I did when she was down with the mumps and her glands +swollen wheres this and wheres that of course she cant feel anything +deep yet I never came properly till I was what 22 or so it went into +the wrong place always only the usual girls nonsense and giggling that +Conny Connolly writing to her in white ink on black paper sealed with +sealingwax though she clapped when the curtain came down because he +looked so handsome then we had Martin Harvey for breakfast dinner and +supper I thought to myself afterwards it must be real love if a man +gives up his life for her that way for nothing I suppose there are a +few men like that left its hard to believe in it though unless it +really happened to me the majority of them with not a particle of love +in their natures to find two people like that nowadays full up of each +other that would feel the same way as you do theyre usually a bit +foolish in the head his father must have been a bit queer to go and +poison himself after her still poor old man I suppose he felt lost shes +always making love to my things too the few old rags I have wanting to +put her hair up at 15 my powder too only ruin her skin on her shes time +enough for that all her life after of course shes restless knowing shes +pretty with her lips so red a pity they wont stay that way I was too +but theres no use going to the fair with the thing answering me like a +fishwoman when I asked to go for a half a stone of potatoes the day we +met Mrs Joe Gallaher at the trottingmatches and she pretended not to +see us in her trap with Friery the solicitor we werent grand enough +till I gave her 2 damn fine cracks across the ear for herself take that +now for answering me like that and that for your impudence she had me +that exasperated of course contradicting I was badtempered too because +how was it there was a weed in the tea or I didnt sleep the night +before cheese I ate was it and I told her over and over again not to +leave knives crossed like that because she has nobody to command her as +she said herself well if he doesnt correct her faith I will that was +the last time she turned on the teartap I was just like that myself +they darent order me about the place its his fault of course having the +two of us slaving here instead of getting in a woman long ago am I ever +going to have a proper servant again of course then shed see him coming +Id have to let her know or shed revenge it arent they a nuisance that +old Mrs Fleming you have to be walking round after her putting the +things into her hands sneezing and farting into the pots well of course +shes old she cant help it a good job I found that rotten old smelly +dishcloth that got lost behind the dresser I knew there was something +and opened the area window to let out the smell bringing in his friends +to entertain them like the night he walked home with a dog if you +please that might have been mad especially Simon Dedalus son his father +such a criticiser with his glasses up with his tall hat on him at the +cricket match and a great big hole in his sock one thing laughing at +the other and his son that got all those prizes for whatever he won +them in the intermediate imagine climbing over the railings if anybody +saw him that knew us I wonder he didnt tear a big hole in his grand +funeral trousers as if the one nature gave wasnt enough for anybody +hawking him down into the dirty old kitchen now is he right in his head +I ask pity it wasnt washing day my old pair of drawers might have been +hanging up too on the line on exhibition for all hed ever care with the +ironmould mark the stupid old bundle burned on them he might think was +something else and she never even rendered down the fat I told her and +now shes going such as she was on account of her paralysed husband +getting worse theres always something wrong with them disease or they +have to go under an operation or if its not that its drink and he beats +her Ill have to hunt around again for someone every day I get up theres +some new thing on sweet God sweet God well when Im stretched out dead +in my grave I suppose Ill have some peace I want to get up a minute if +Im let wait O Jesus wait yes that thing has come on me yes now wouldnt +that afflict you of course all the poking and rooting and ploughing he +had up in me now what am I to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that +pester the soul out of a body unless he likes it some men do God knows +theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4 weeks usual +monthly auction isnt it simply sickening that night it came on me like +that the one and only time we were in a box that Michael Gunn gave him +to see Mrs Kendal and her husband at the Gaiety something he did about +insurance for him in Drimmies I was fit to be tied though I wouldnt +give in with that gentleman of fashion staring down at me with his +glasses and him the other side of me talking about Spinoza and his soul +thats dead I suppose millions of years ago I smiled the best I could +all in a swamp leaning forward as if I was interested having to sit it +out then to the last tag I wont forget that wife of Scarli in a hurry +supposed to be a fast play about adultery that idiot in the gallery +hissing the woman adulteress he shouted I suppose he went and had a +woman in the next lane running round all the back ways after to make up +for it I wish he had what I had then hed boo I bet the cat itself is +better off than us have we too much blood up in us or what O patience +above its pouring out of me like the sea anyhow he didnt make me +pregnant as big as he is I dont want to ruin the clean sheets I just +put on I suppose the clean linen I wore brought it on too damn it damn +it and they always want to see a stain on the bed to know youre a +virgin for them all thats troubling them theyre such fools too you +could be a widow or divorced 40 times over a daub of red ink would do +or blackberry juice no thats too purply O Jamesy let me up out of this +pooh sweets of sin whoever suggested that business for women what +between clothes and cooking and children this damned old bed too +jingling like the dickens I suppose they could hear us away over the +other side of the park till I suggested to put the quilt on the floor +with the pillow under my bottom I wonder is it nicer in the day I think +it is easy I think Ill cut all this hair off me there scalding me I +might look like a young girl wouldnt he get the great suckin the next +time he turned up my clothes on me Id give anything to see his face +wheres the chamber gone easy Ive a holy horror of its breaking under me +after that old commode I wonder was I too heavy sitting on his knee I +made him sit on the easychair purposely when I took off only my blouse +and skirt first in the other room he was so busy where he oughtnt to be +he never felt me I hope my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits +easy God I remember one time I could scout it out straight whistling +like a man almost easy O Lord how noisy I hope theyre bubbles on it for +a wad of money from some fellow Ill have to perfume it in the morning +dont forget I bet he never saw a better pair of thighs than that look +how white they are the smoothest place is right there between this bit +here how soft like a peach easy God I wouldnt mind being a man and get +up on a lovely woman O Lord what a row youre making like the jersey +lily easy easy O how the waters come down at Lahore + +who knows is there anything the matter with my insides or have I +something growing in me getting that thing like that every week when +was it last I Whit Monday yes its only about 3 weeks I ought to go to +the doctor only it would be like before I married him when I had that +white thing coming from me and Floey made me go to that dry old stick +Dr Collins for womens diseases on Pembroke road your vagina he called +it I suppose thats how he got all the gilt mirrors and carpets getting +round those rich ones off Stephens green running up to him for every +little fiddlefaddle her vagina and her cochinchina theyve money of +course so theyre all right I wouldnt marry him not if he was the last +man in the world besides theres something queer about their children +always smelling around those filthy bitches all sides asking me if what +I did had an offensive odour what did he want me to do but the one +thing gold maybe what a question if I smathered it all over his wrinkly +old face for him with all my compriments I suppose hed know then and +could you pass it easily pass what I thought he was talking about the +rock of Gibraltar the way he put it thats a very nice invention too by +the way only I like letting myself down after in the hole as far as I +can squeeze and pull the chain then to flush it nice cool pins and +needles still theres something in it I suppose I always used to know by +Millys when she was a child whether she had worms or not still all the +same paying him for that how much is that doctor one guinea please and +asking me had I frequent omissions where do those old fellows get all +the words they have omissions with his shortsighted eyes on me cocked +sideways I wouldnt trust him too far to give me chloroform or God knows +what else still I liked him when he sat down to write the thing out +frowning so severe his nose intelligent like that you be damned you +lying strap O anything no matter who except an idiot he was clever +enough to spot that of course that was all thinking of him and his mad +crazy letters my Precious one everything connected with your glorious +Body everything underlined that comes from it is a thing of beauty and +of joy for ever something he got out of some nonsensical book that he +had me always at myself 4 and 5 times a day sometimes and I said I +hadnt are you sure O yes I said I am quite sure in a way that shut him +up I knew what was coming next only natural weakness it was he excited +me I dont know how the first night ever we met when I was living in +Rehoboth terrace we stood staring at one another for about 10 minutes +as if we met somewhere I suppose on account of my being jewess looking +after my mother he used to amuse me the things he said with the half +sloothering smile on him and all the Doyles said he was going to stand +for a member of Parliament O wasnt I the born fool to believe all his +blather about home rule and the land league sending me that long strool +of a song out of the Huguenots to sing in French to be more classy O +beau pays de la Touraine that I never even sang once explaining and +rigmaroling about religion and persecution he wont let you enjoy +anything naturally then might he as a great favour the very 1st +opportunity he got a chance in Brighton square running into my bedroom +pretending the ink got on his hands to wash it off with the Albion milk +and sulphur soap I used to use and the gelatine still round it O I +laughed myself sick at him that day I better not make an alnight +sitting on this affair they ought to make chambers a natural size so +that a woman could sit on it properly he kneels down to do it I suppose +there isnt in all creation another man with the habits he has look at +the way hes sleeping at the foot of the bed how can he without a hard +bolster its well he doesnt kick or he might knock out all my teeth +breathing with his hand on his nose like that Indian god he took me to +show one wet Sunday in the museum in Kildare street all yellow in a +pinafore lying on his side on his hand with his ten toes sticking out +that he said was a bigger religion than the jews and Our Lords both put +together all over Asia imitating him as hes always imitating everybody +I suppose he used to sleep at the foot of the bed too with his big +square feet up in his wifes mouth damn this stinking thing anyway +wheres this those napkins are ah yes I know I hope the old press doesnt +creak ah I knew it would hes sleeping hard had a good time somewhere +still she must have given him great value for his money of course he +has to pay for it from her O this nuisance of a thing I hope theyll +have something better for us in the other world tying ourselves up God +help us thats all right for tonight now the lumpy old jingly bed always +reminds me of old Cohen I suppose he scratched himself in it often +enough and he thinks father bought it from Lord Napier that I used to +admire when I was a little girl because I told him easy piano O I like +my bed God here we are as bad as ever after 16 years how many houses +were we in at all Raymond terrace and Ontario terrace and Lombard +street and Holles street and he goes about whistling every time were on +the run again his huguenots or the frogs march pretending to help the +men with our 4 sticks of furniture and then the City Arms hotel worse +and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the landing always +somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them always +know who was in there last every time were just getting on right +something happens or he puts his big foot in it Thoms and Helys and Mr +Cuffes and Drimmies either hes going to be run into prison over his old +lottery tickets that was to be all our salvations or he goes and gives +impudence well have him coming home with the sack soon out of the +Freeman too like the rest on account of those Sinner Fein or the +freemasons then well see if the little man he showed me dribbling along +in the wet all by himself round by Coadys lane will give him much +consolation that he says is so capable and sincerely Irish he is indeed +judging by the sincerity of the trousers I saw on him wait theres +Georges church bells wait 3 quarters the hour wait two oclock well +thats a nice hour of the night for him to be coming home at to anybody +climbing down into the area if anybody saw him Ill knock him off that +little habit tomorrow first Ill look at his shirt to see or Ill see if +he has that French letter still in his pocketbook I suppose he thinks I +dont know deceitful men all their 20 pockets arent enough for their +lies then why should we tell them even if its the truth they dont +believe you then tucked up in bed like those babies in the Aristocrats +Masterpiece he brought me another time as if we hadnt enough of that in +real life without some old Aristocrat or whatever his name is +disgusting you more with those rotten pictures children with two heads +and no legs thats the kind of villainy theyre always dreaming about +with not another thing in their empty heads they ought to get slow +poison the half of them then tea and toast for him buttered on both +sides and newlaid eggs I suppose Im nothing any more when I wouldnt let +him lick me in Holles street one night man man tyrant as ever for the +one thing he slept on the floor half the night naked the way the jews +used when somebody dies belonged to them and wouldnt eat any breakfast +or speak a word wanting to be petted so I thought I stood out enough +for one time and let him he does it all wrong too thinking only of his +own pleasure his tongue is too flat or I dont know what he forgets that +wethen I dont Ill make him do it again if he doesnt mind himself and +lock him down to sleep in the coalcellar with the blackbeetles I wonder +was it her Josie off her head with my castoffs hes such a born liar too +no hed never have the courage with a married woman thats why he wants +me and Boylan though as for her Denis as she calls him that +forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call him a husband yes its some +little bitch hes got in with even when I was with him with Milly at the +College races that Hornblower with the childs bonnet on the top of his +nob let us into by the back way he was throwing his sheeps eyes at +those two doing skirt duty up and down I tried to wink at him first no +use of course and thats the way his money goes this is the fruits of Mr +Paddy Dignam yes they were all in great style at the grand funeral in +the paper Boylan brought in if they saw a real officers funeral thatd +be something reversed arms muffled drums the poor horse walking behind +in black L Boom and Tom Kernan that drunken little barrelly man that +bit his tongue off falling down the mens W C drunk in some place or +other and Martin Cunningham and the two Dedaluses and Fanny MCoys +husband white head of cabbage skinny thing with a turn in her eye +trying to sing my songs shed want to be born all over again and her old +green dress with the lowneck as she cant attract them any other way +like dabbling on a rainy day I see it all now plainly and they call +that friendship killing and then burying one another and they all with +their wives and families at home more especially Jack Power keeping +that barmaid he does of course his wife is always sick or going to be +sick or just getting better of it and hes a goodlooking man still +though hes getting a bit grey over the ears theyre a nice lot all of +them well theyre not going to get my husband again into their clutches +if I can help it making fun of him then behind his back I know well +when he goes on with his idiotics because he has sense enough not to +squander every penny piece he earns down their gullets and looks after +his wife and family goodfornothings poor Paddy Dignam all the same Im +sorry in a way for him what are his wife and 5 children going to do +unless he was insured comical little teetotum always stuck up in some +pub corner and her or her son waiting Bill Bailey wont you please come +home her widows weeds wont improve her appearance theyre awfully +becoming though if youre goodlooking what men wasnt he yes he was at +the Glencree dinner and Ben Dollard base barreltone the night he +borrowed the swallowtail to sing out of in Holles street squeezed and +squashed into them and grinning all over his big Dolly face like a +wellwhipped childs botty didnt he look a balmy ballocks sure enough +that must have been a spectacle on the stage imagine paying 5/- in the +preserved seats for that to see him trotting off in his trowlers and +Simon Dedalus too he was always turning up half screwed singing the +second verse first the old love is the new was one of his so sweetly +sang the maiden on the hawthorn bough he was always on for flirtyfying +too when I sang Maritana with him at Freddy Mayers private opera he had +a delicious glorious voice Phoebe dearest goodbye sweetheart +_sweet_heart he always sang it not like Bartell DArcy sweet _tart_ +goodbye of course he had the gift of the voice so there was no art in +it all over you like a warm showerbath O Maritana wildwood flower we +sang splendidly though it was a bit too high for my register even +transposed and he was married at the time to May Goulding but then hed +say or do something to knock the good out of it hes a widower now I +wonder what sort is his son he says hes an author and going to be a +university professor of Italian and Im to take lessons what is he +driving at now showing him my photo its not good of me I ought to have +got it taken in drapery that never looks out of fashion still I look +young in it I wonder he didnt make him a present of it altogether and +me too after all why not I saw him driving down to the Kingsbridge +station with his father and mother I was in mourning thats 11 years ago +now yes hed be 11 though what was the good in going into mourning for +what was neither one thing nor the other the first cry was enough for +me I heard the deathwatch too ticking in the wall of course he insisted +hed go into mourning for the cat I suppose hes a man now by this time +he was an innocent boy then and a darling little fellow in his lord +Fauntleroy suit and curly hair like a prince on the stage when I saw +him at Mat Dillons he liked me too I remember they all do wait by God +yes wait yes hold on he was on the cards this morning when I laid out +the deck union with a young stranger neither dark nor fair you met +before I thought it meant him but hes no chicken nor a stranger either +besides my face was turned the other way what was the 7th card after +that the 10 of spades for a journey by land then there was a letter on +its way and scandals too the 3 queens and the 8 of diamonds for a rise +in society yes wait it all came out and 2 red 8s for new garments look +at that and didnt I dream something too yes there was something about +poetry in it I hope he hasnt long greasy hair hanging into his eyes or +standing up like a red Indian what do they go about like that for only +getting themselves and their poetry laughed at I always liked poetry +when I was a girl first I thought he was a poet like lord Byron and not +an ounce of it in his composition I thought he was quite different I +wonder is he too young hes about wait 88 I was married 88 Milly is 15 +yesterday 89 what age was he then at Dillons 5 or 6 about 88 I suppose +hes 20 or more Im not too old for him if hes 23 or 24 I hope hes not +that stuckup university student sort no otherwise he wouldnt go sitting +down in the old kitchen with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of +course he pretended to understand it all probably he told him he was +out of Trinity college hes very young to be a professor I hope hes not +a professor like Goodwin was he was a potent professor of John Jameson +they all write about some woman in their poetry well I suppose he wont +find many like me where softly sighs of love the light guitar where +poetry is in the air the blue sea and the moon shining so beautifully +coming back on the nightboat from Tarifa the lighthouse at Europa point +the guitar that fellow played was so expressive will I ever go back +there again all new faces two glancing eyes a lattice hid Ill sing that +for him theyre my eyes if hes anything of a poet two eyes as darkly +bright as loves own star arent those beautiful words as loves young +star itll be a change the Lord knows to have an intelligent person to +talk to about yourself not always listening to him and Billy Prescotts +ad and Keyess ad and Tom the Devils ad then if anything goes wrong in +their business we have to suffer Im sure hes very distinguished Id like +to meet a man like that God not those other ruck besides hes young +those fine young men I could see down in Margate strand bathingplace +from the side of the rock standing up in the sun naked like a God or +something and then plunging into the sea with them why arent all men +like that thered be some consolation for a woman like that lovely +little statue he bought I could look at him all day long curly head and +his shoulders his finger up for you to listen theres real beauty and +poetry for you I often felt I wanted to kiss him all over also his +lovely young cock there so simple I wouldnt mind taking him in my mouth +if nobody was looking as if it was asking you to suck it so clean and +white he looks with his boyish face I would too in 1/2 a minute even if +some of it went down what its only like gruel or the dew theres no +danger besides hed be so clean compared with those pigs of men I +suppose never dream of washing it from 1 years end to the other the +most of them only thats what gives the women the moustaches Im sure +itll be grand if I can only get in with a handsome young poet at my age +Ill throw them the 1st thing in the morning till I see if the wishcard +comes out or Ill try pairing the lady herself and see if he comes out +Ill read and study all I can find or learn a bit off by heart if I knew +who he likes so he wont think me stupid if he thinks all women are the +same and I can teach him the other part Ill make him feel all over him +till he half faints under me then hell write about me lover and +mistress publicly too with our 2 photographs in all the papers when he +becomes famous O but then what am I going to do about him though + +no thats no way for him has he no manners nor no refinement nor no +nothing in his nature slapping us behind like that on my bottom because +I didnt call him Hugh the ignoramus that doesnt know poetry from a +cabbage thats what you get for not keeping them in their proper place +pulling off his shoes and trousers there on the chair before me so +barefaced without even asking permission and standing out that vulgar +way in the half of a shirt they wear to be admired like a priest or a +butcher or those old hypocrites in the time of Julius Caesar of course +hes right enough in his way to pass the time as a joke sure you might +as well be in bed with what with a lion God Im sure hed have something +better to say for himself an old Lion would O well I suppose its +because they were so plump and tempting in my short petticoat he +couldnt resist they excite myself sometimes its well for men all the +amount of pleasure they get off a womans body were so round and white +for them always I wished I was one myself for a change just to try with +that thing they have swelling up on you so hard and at the same time so +soft when you touch it my uncle John has a thing long I heard those +cornerboys saying passing the comer of Marrowbone lane my aunt Mary has +a thing hairy because it was dark and they knew a girl was passing it +didnt make me blush why should it either its only nature and he puts +his thing long into my aunt Marys hairy etcetera and turns out to be +you put the handle in a sweepingbrush men again all over they can pick +and choose what they please a married woman or a fast widow or a girl +for their different tastes like those houses round behind Irish street +no but were to be always chained up theyre not going to be chaining me +up no damn fear once I start I tell you for their stupid husbands +jealousy why cant we all remain friends over it instead of quarrelling +her husband found it out what they did together well naturally and if +he did can he undo it hes coronado anyway whatever he does and then he +going to the other mad extreme about the wife in Fair Tyrants of course +the man never even casts a 2nd thought on the husband or wife either +its the woman he wants and he gets her what else were we given all +those desires for Id like to know I cant help it if Im young still can +I its a wonder Im not an old shrivelled hag before my time living with +him so cold never embracing me except sometimes when hes asleep the +wrong end of me not knowing I suppose who he has any man thatd kiss a +womans bottom Id throw my hat at him after that hed kiss anything +unnatural where we havent 1 atom of any kind of expression in us all of +us the same 2 lumps of lard before ever Id do that to a man pfooh the +dirty brutes the mere thought is enough I kiss the feet of you senorita +theres some sense in that didnt he kiss our halldoor yes he did what a +madman nobody understands his cracked ideas but me still of course a +woman wants to be embraced 20 times a day almost to make her look young +no matter by who so long as to be in love or loved by somebody if the +fellow you want isnt there sometimes by the Lord God I was thinking +would I go around by the quays there some dark evening where nobodyd +know me and pick up a sailor off the sea thatd be hot on for it and not +care a pin whose I was only do it off up in a gate somewhere or one of +those wildlooking gipsies in Rathfarnham had their camp pitched near +the Bloomfield laundry to try and steal our things if they could I only +sent mine there a few times for the name model laundry sending me back +over and over some old ones odd stockings that blackguardlooking fellow +with the fine eyes peeling a switch attack me in the dark and ride me +up against the wall without a word or a murderer anybody what they do +themselves the fine gentlemen in their silk hats that K C lives up +somewhere this way coming out of Hardwicke lane the night he gave us +the fish supper on account of winning over the boxing match of course +it was for me he gave it I knew him by his gaiters and the walk and +when I turned round a minute after just to see there was a woman after +coming out of it too some filthy prostitute then he goes home to his +wife after that only I suppose the half of those sailors are rotten +again with disease O move over your big carcass out of that for the +love of Mike listen to him the winds that waft my sighs to thee so well +he may sleep and sigh the great Suggester Don Poldo de la Flora if he +knew how he came out on the cards this morning hed have something to +sigh for a dark man in some perplexity between 2 7s too in prison for +Lord knows what he does that I dont know and Im to be slooching around +down in the kitchen to get his lordship his breakfast while hes rolled +up like a mummy will I indeed did you ever see me running Id just like +to see myself at it show them attention and they treat you like dirt I +dont care what anybody says itd be much better for the world to be +governed by the women in it you wouldnt see women going and killing one +another and slaughtering when do you ever see women rolling around +drunk like they do or gambling every penny they have and losing it on +horses yes because a woman whatever she does she knows where to stop +sure they wouldnt be in the world at all only for us they dont know +what it is to be a woman and a mother how could they where would they +all of them be if they hadnt all a mother to look after them what I +never had thats why I suppose hes running wild now out at night away +from his books and studies and not living at home on account of the +usual rowy house I suppose well its a poor case that those that have a +fine son like that theyre not satisfied and I none was he not able to +make one it wasnt my fault we came together when I was watching the two +dogs up in her behind in the middle of the naked street that +disheartened me altogether I suppose I oughtnt to have buried him in +that little woolly jacket I knitted crying as I was but give it to some +poor child but I knew well Id never have another our 1st death too it +was we were never the same since O Im not going to think myself into +the glooms about that any more I wonder why he wouldnt stay the night I +felt all the time it was somebody strange he brought in instead of +roving around the city meeting God knows who nightwalkers and +pickpockets his poor mother wouldnt like that if she was alive ruining +himself for life perhaps still its a lovely hour so silent I used to +love coming home after dances the air of the night they have friends +they can talk to weve none either he wants what he wont get or its some +woman ready to stick her knife in you I hate that in women no wonder +they treat us the way they do we are a dreadful lot of bitches I +suppose its all the troubles we have makes us so snappy Im not like +that he could easy have slept in there on the sofa in the other room I +suppose he was as shy as a boy he being so young hardly 20 of me in the +next room hed have heard me on the chamber arrah what harm Dedalus I +wonder its like those names in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had +the devils queer names there father Vilaplana of Santa Maria that gave +me the rosary Rosales y OReilly in the Calle las Siete Revueltas and +Pisimbo and Mrs Opisso in Governor street O what a name Id go and drown +myself in the first river if I had a name like her O my and all the +bits of streets Paradise ramp and Bedlam ramp and Rodgers ramp and +Crutchetts ramp and the devils gap steps well small blame to me if I am +a harumscarum I know I am a bit I declare to God I dont feel a day +older than then I wonder could I get my tongue round any of the Spanish +como esta usted muy bien gracias y usted see I havent forgotten it all +I thought I had only for the grammar a noun is the name of any person +place or thing pity I never tried to read that novel cantankerous Mrs +Rubio lent me by Valera with the questions in it all upside down the +two ways I always knew wed go away in the end I can tell him the +Spanish and he tell me the Italian then hell see Im not so ignorant +what a pity he didnt stay Im sure the poor fellow was dead tired and +wanted a good sleep badly I could have brought him in his breakfast in +bed with a bit of toast so long as I didnt do it on the knife for bad +luck or if the woman was going her rounds with the watercress and +something nice and tasty there are a few olives in the kitchen he might +like I never could bear the look of them in Abrines I could do the +criada the room looks all right since I changed it the other way you +see something was telling me all the time Id have to introduce myself +not knowing me from Adam very funny wouldnt it Im his wife or pretend +we were in Spain with him half awake without a Gods notion where he is +dos huevos estrellados senor Lord the cracked things come into my head +sometimes itd be great fun supposing he stayed with us why not theres +the room upstairs empty and Millys bed in the back room he could do his +writing and studies at the table in there for all the scribbling he +does at it and if he wants to read in bed in the morning like me as hes +making the breakfast for 1 he can make it for 2 Im sure Im not going to +take in lodgers off the street for him if he takes a gesabo of a house +like this Id love to have a long talk with an intelligent welleducated +person Id have to get a nice pair of red slippers like those Turks with +the fez used to sell or yellow and a nice semitransparent morning gown +that I badly want or a peachblossom dressing jacket like the one long +ago in Walpoles only 8/6 or 18/6 Ill just give him one more chance Ill +get up early in the morning Im sick of Cohens old bed in any case I +might go over to the markets to see all the vegetables and cabbages and +tomatoes and carrots and all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in +lovely and fresh who knows whod be the 1st man Id meet theyre out +looking for it in the morning Mamy Dillon used to say they are and the +night too that was her massgoing Id love a big juicy pear now to melt +in your mouth like when I used to be in the longing way then Ill throw +him up his eggs and tea in the moustachecup she gave him to make his +mouth bigger I suppose hed like my nice cream too I know what Ill do +Ill go about rather gay not too much singing a bit now and then mi fa +pieta Masetto then Ill start dressing myself to go out presto non son +piu forte Ill put on my best shift and drawers let him have a good +eyeful out of that to make his micky stand for him Ill let him know if +thats what he wanted that his wife is fucked yes and damn well fucked +too up to my neck nearly not by him 5 or 6 times handrunning theres the +mark of his spunk on the clean sheet I wouldnt bother to even iron it +out that ought to satisfy him if you dont believe me feel my belly +unless I made him stand there and put him into me Ive a mind to tell +him every scrap and make him do it out in front of me serve him right +its all his own fault if I am an adulteress as the thing in the gallery +said O much about it if thats all the harm ever we did in this vale of +tears God knows its not much doesnt everybody only they hide it I +suppose thats what a woman is supposed to be there for or He wouldnt +have made us the way He did so attractive to men then if he wants to +kiss my bottom Ill drag open my drawers and bulge it right out in his +face as large as life he can stick his tongue 7 miles up my hole as hes +there my brown part then Ill tell him I want £ 1 or perhaps 30/- Ill +tell him I want to buy underclothes then if he gives me that well he +wont be too bad I dont want to soak it all out of him like other women +do I could often have written out a fine cheque for myself and write +his name on it for a couple of pounds a few times he forgot to lock it +up besides he wont spend it Ill let him do it off on me behind provided +he doesnt smear all my good drawers O I suppose that cant be helped Ill +do the indifferent 1 or 2 questions Ill know by the answers when hes +like that he cant keep a thing back I know every turn in him Ill +tighten my bottom well and let out a few smutty words smellrump or lick +my shit or the first mad thing comes into my head then Ill suggest +about yes O wait now sonny my turn is coming Ill be quite gay and +friendly over it O but I was forgetting this bloody pest of a thing +pfooh you wouldnt know which to laugh or cry were such a mixture of +plum and apple no Ill have to wear the old things so much the better +itll be more pointed hell never know whether he did it or not there +thats good enough for you any old thing at all then Ill wipe him off me +just like a business his omission then Ill go out Ill have him eying up +at the ceiling where is she gone now make him want me thats the only +way a quarter after what an unearthly hour I suppose theyre just +getting up in China now combing out their pigtails for the day well +soon have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in to spoil +their sleep except an odd priest or two for his night office or the +alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of itself +let me see if I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind of flowers are those +they invented like the stars the wallpaper in Lombard street was much +nicer the apron he gave me was like that something only I only wore it +twice better lower this lamp and try again so as I can get up early Ill +go to Lambes there beside Findlaters and get them to send us some +flowers to put about the place in case he brings him home tomorrow +today I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I want to do the place +up someway the dust grows in it I think while Im asleep then we can +have music and cigarettes I can accompany him first I must clean the +keys of the piano with milk whatll I wear shall I wear a white rose or +those fairy cakes in Liptons I love the smell of a rich big shop at 7 +1/2d a lb or the other ones with the cherries in them and the pinky +sugar 11d a couple of lbs of those a nice plant for the middle of the +table Id get that cheaper in wait wheres this I saw them not long ago I +love flowers Id love to have the whole place swimming in roses God of +heaven theres nothing like nature the wild mountains then the sea and +the waves rushing then the beautiful country with the fields of oats +and wheat and all kinds of things and all the fine cattle going about +that would do your heart good to see rivers and lakes and flowers all +sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of the +ditches primroses and violets nature it is as for them saying theres no +God I wouldnt give a snap of my two fingers for all their learning why +dont they go and create something I often asked him atheists or +whatever they call themselves go and wash the cobbles off themselves +first then they go howling for the priest and they dying and why why +because theyre afraid of hell on account of their bad conscience ah yes +I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there +was anybody that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I so +there you are they might as well try to stop the sun from rising +tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the +rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat +the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of +seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago +my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a +flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that +was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today +yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a +woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the +pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I +wouldnt answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was +thinking of so many things he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and +Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all +birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the +pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing +round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls +laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the +morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who +else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market +all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half +asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the +steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle +thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and +turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop +and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice +hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night +and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the +watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown +torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the +glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all +the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and +the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and +Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put +the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a +red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well +as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again +yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and +first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could +feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and +yes I said yes I will Yes. + + + + + + THE SATYRICON OF + PETRONIUS ARBITER + + Complete and unexpurgated translation by W. C. Firebaugh, + in which are incorporated the forgeries of Nodot and Marchena, + and the readings introduced into the text by De Salas. + + +Among the difficulties which beset the path of the conscientious +translator, a sense of his own unworthiness must ever take precedence; +but another, scarcely less disconcerting, is the likelihood of +misunderstanding some allusion which was perfectly familiar to the author +and his public, but which, by reason of its purely local significance, +is obscure and subject to the misinterpretation and emendation of a later +generation. + +A translation worthy of the name is as much the product of a literary +epoch as it is of the brain and labor of a scholar; and Melmouth’s +version of the letters of Pliny the Younger, made, as it was, at a +period when the art of English letter writing had attained its highest +excellence, may well be the despair of our twentieth century apostles of +specialization. Who, today, could imbue a translation of the Golden Ass +with the exquisite flavor of William Adlington’s unscholarly version of +that masterpiece? Who could rival Arthur Golding’s rendering of the +Metamorphoses of Ovid, or Francis Hicke’s masterly rendering of Lucian’s +True History? But eternal life means endless change and in nothing is +this truth more strikingly manifest than in the growth and decadence of +living languages and in the translation of dead tongues into the ever +changing tissue of the living. Were it not for this, no translation +worthy of the name would ever stand in need of revision, except in +instances where the discovery and collation of fresh manuscripts had +improved the text. In the case of an author whose characters speak in +the argot proper to their surroundings, the necessity for revision is +even more imperative; the change in the cultured speech of a language is +a process that requires years to become pronounced, the evolution of +slang is rapid and its usage ephemeral. For example Stephen Gaselee, in +his bibliography of Petronius, calls attention to Harry Thurston Peck’s +rendering of “bell um pomum” by “he’s a daisy,” and remarks, +appropriately enough, “that this was well enough for 1898; but we would +now be more inclined to render it ‘he’s a peach.’” Again, Peck renders +“illud erat vivere” by “that was life,” but, in the words of our lyric +American jazz, we would be more inclined to render it “that was the +life.” “But,” as Professor Gaselee has said, “no rendering of this part +of the Satyricon can be final, it must always be in the slang of the +hour.” + +“Some,” writes the immortal translator of Rabelais, in his preface, +“have deservedly gained esteem by translating; yet not many condescend +to translate but such as cannot invent; though to do the first well, +requires often as much genius as to do the latter. I wish, reader, +thou mayest be as willing to do the author justice, as I have strove +to do him right.” + +Many scholars have lamented the failure of Justus Lipsius to comment upon +Petronius or edit an edition of the Satyricon. Had he done so, he might +have gone far toward piercing the veil of darkness which enshrouds the +authorship of the work and the very age in which the composer flourished. +To me, personally, the fact that Laurence Sterne did not undertake a +version, has caused much regret. The master who delineated Tristram +Shandy’s father and the intrigue between the Widow Wadman and Uncle Toby +would have drawn Trimalchio and his peers to admiration. + + W. C. F. + + + + +CONTENTS: + +PREFACE +INTRODUCTION +THE SATYRICON +NOTES + PROSTITUTION + PAEDERASTIA + CHAPTER NOTES + 9 Gladiator obscene + 17 Impotence + 26 Peepholes in brothels + 34 Silver Skeleton + 36 Marsyas + 40 A pie full of birds + 56 Contumelia + 116 Life in Rome + 116 Legacy hunting + 119 Castration + 127 Circe’s voice + 131 Sputum in charms + 131 The “infamous finger” + 138 The dildo + The Cordax + +SIX NOTES BY MARCHENA + Introduction + I Soldiers in love + II Courtesans + III Greek love + IV Pollution + V Virginity + VI Pandars + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + +Of the many masterpieces which classical antiquity has bequeathed to +modern times, few have attained, at intervals, to such popularity; few +have so gripped the interest of scholars and men of letters, as has this +scintillating miscellany known as the Satyricon, ascribed by tradition to +that Petronius who, at the court of Nero, acted as arbiter of elegance +and dictator of fashion. The flashing, wit, the masterly touches which +bring out the characters with all the detail of a fine old copper +etching; the marvelous use of realism by this, its first prophet; the +sure knowledge of the perspective and background best adapted to each +episode; the racy style, so smooth, so elegant, so simple when the +educated are speaking, beguile the reader and blind him, at first, to the +many discrepancies and incoherences with which the text, as we have it, +is marred. The more one concentrates upon this author, the more apparent +these faults become and the more one regrets the lacunae in the text. +Notwithstanding numerous articles which deal with this work, some from +the pens of the most profound scholars, its author is still shrouded in +the mists of uncertainty and conjecture. He is as impersonal as +Shakespeare, as aloof as Flaubert, in the opinion of Charles Whibley, +and, it may be added, as genial as Rabelais; an enigmatic genius whose +secret will never be laid bare with the resources at our present command. +As I am not writing for scholars, I do not intend going very deeply into +the labyrinth of critical controversy which surrounds the author and the +work, but I shall deal with a few of the questions which, if properly +understood, will enhance the value of the Satyricon, and contribute, in +some degree, to a better understanding of the author. For the sake of +convenience the questions discussed in this introduction will be arranged +in the following order: + +1. The Satyricon. + +2. The Author. + a His Character. + b His Purpose in Writing. + c Time in which the Action is placed. + d Localization of the Principal Episode. + +3. Realism. + a Influence of the Satyricon upon the Literature of the World. + +4. The Forgeries. + + + +I + +THE SATYRICON. Heinsius and Scaliger derive the word from the Greek, +whence comes our English word satyr, but Casaubon, Dacier and Spanheim +derive it from the Latin ‘satura,’ a plate filled with different kinds +of food, and they refer to Porphyrion’s ‘multis et variis rebus hoc +carmen refertum est.’ + +The text, as we possess it, may be divided into three divisions: the +first and last relate the adventures of Encolpius and his companions, the +second, which is a digression, describes the Dinner of Trimalchio. That +the work was originally divided into books, we had long known from +ancient glossaries, and we learn, from the title of the Traguriensian +manuscript, that the fragments therein contained are excerpts from the +fifteenth and sixteenth books. An interpolation of Fulgentius (Paris +7975) attributes to Book Fourteen the scene related in Chapter 20 of the +work as we have it, and the glossary of St. Benedict Floriacensis cites +the passage ‘sed video te totum in illa haerere, quae Troiae halosin +ostendit (Chapter 89), as from Book Fifteen. As there is no reason to +suppose that the chapters intervening between the end of the Cena +(Chapter 79) and Chapter 89 are out of place, it follows that this +passage may have belonged to Book Sixteen, or even Seventeen, but that it +could not have belonged to Book Fifteen. From the interpolation of +Fulgentius we may hazard the opinion that the beginning of the fragments, +as we possess them (Chapters 1 to 26), form part of Book Fourteen. The +Dinner of Trimalchio probably formed a complete book, fifteen, and the +continuation of the adventures of Encolpius down to his meeting with +Eumolpus (end of Chapter 140) Book Sixteen. The discomfiture of Eumolpus +should have closed this book but not the entire work, as the exit of the +two principal characters is not fixed at the time our fragments come to +an end. The original work, then, would probably have exceeded Tom Jones +in length. + + + +II + +THE AUTHOR. + +a--“Not often,” says Studer (Rheinisches Museum, 1843), “has there been +so much dispute about the author, the times, the character and the +purpose of a writing of antiquity as about the fragments of the Satyricon +of Petronius.” The discovery and publication of the Trau manuscript +brought about a literary controversy which has had few parallels, and +which has not entirely died out to this day, although the best +authorities ascribe the work to Caius Petronius, the Arbiter Elegantiarum +at the court of Nero. “The question as to the date of the narrative of +the adventures of Encolpius and his boon companions must be regarded as +settled,” says Theodor Mommsen (Hermes, 1878); “this narrative is +unsurpassed in originality and mastery of treatment among the writings of +Roman literature. Nor does anyone doubt the identity of its author and +the Arbiter Elegantiarum of Nero, whose end Tacitus relates.” + +In any case, the author of this work, if it be the work of one brain, +must have been a profound psychologist, a master of realism, a +natural-born story teller, and a gentleman. + + +b--His principal object in writing the work was to amuse but, in amusing, +he also intended to pillory the aristocracy and his wit is as keen as the +point of a rapier; but, when we bear in mind the fact that he was an +ancient, we will find that his cynicism is not cruel, in him there is +none of the malignity of Aristophanes; there is rather the attitude of +the refined patrician who is always under the necessity of facing those +things which he holds most in contempt, the supreme artist who suffers +from the multitude of bill-boards, so to speak, who lashes the posters +but holds in pitying contempt those who know so little of true art that +they mistake those posters for the genuine article. Niebuhr’s estimate +of his character is so just and free from prejudice, and proceeds from +a mind which, in itself, was so pure and wholesome, that I will quote it: + +“All great dramatic poets are endowed with the power of creating beings +who seem to act and speak with perfect independence, so that the poet is +nothing more than the relator of what takes place. When Goethe had +conceived Faust and Margarete, Mephistopheles and Wagner, they moved and +had their being without any exercise of his will. But in the peculiar +power which Petronius exercises, in its application to every scene, to +every individual character, in everything, noble or mean, which he +undertakes, I know of but one who is fully equal to the Roman, and that +is Diderot. Trimalchio and Agamemnon might have spoken for Petronius, +and the nephew Rameau and the parson Papin for Diderot, in every +condition and on every occasion inexhaustibly, out of their own nature; +just so the purest and noblest souls, whose kind was, after all, not +entirely extinct in their day. + +“Diderot and a contemporary, related to him in spirit, Count Gaspar +Gozzi, are marked with the same cynicism which disfigures the Roman; +their age, like his, had become shameless. But as the two former were in +their heart noble, upright, and benevolent men, and as in the writings of +Diderot genuine virtue and a tenderness unknown to his contemporaries +breathe, so the peculiarity of such a genius can, as it seems, be given +to a noble and elevated being only. The deep contempt for prevailing +immorality which naturally leads to cynicism, and a heart which beats for +everything great and glorious,--virtues which then had no existence, +--speak from the pages of the Roman in a language intelligible to every +susceptible heart.” + + +e--Beck, in his paper, “The Age of Petronius Arbiter,” concluded that the +author lived and wrote between the years 6 A.D. and 34 A.D., but he +overlooked the possibility that the author might have lived a few years +later, written of conditions as they were in his own times, and yet laid +the action of his novel a few years before. Mommsen and Haley place the +time under Augustus, Buecheler, about 36-7 A.D., and Friedlaender under +Nero. + + +d--La Porte du Theil places the scene at Naples because of the fact the +city in which our heroes met Agamemnon must have been of some +considerable size because neither Encolpius nor Asclytos could find their +way back to their inn, when once they had left it, because both were +tired out from tramping around in search of it and because Giton had been +so impressed with this danger that he took the precaution to mark the +pillars with chalk in order that they might not be lost a second time. +The Gulf of Naples is the only bit of coastline which fits the needs of +the novel, hence the city must be Naples. The fact that neither of the +characters knew the city proves that they had been recent arrivals, and +this furnishes a clue, vague though it is, to what may have gone before. + +Haley, “Harvard Studies in Classical Philology,” vol. II, makes out a +very strong case for Puteoli, and his theory of the old town and the new +town is as ingenious as it is able. Haley also has Trimalchio in his +favor, as has also La Porte du Theil. “I saw the Sibyl at Cumae,” says +Trimalchio. Now if the scene of the dinner is actually at Cumae this +sounds very peculiar; it might even be a gloss added by some copyist +whose knowledge was not equal to his industry. On the other hand, +suppose Trimalchio is speaking of something so commonplace in his +locality that the second term has become a generic, then the difficulty +disappears. We today, even though standing upon the very spot in Melos +where the Venus was unearthed, would still refer to her as the Venus de +Melos. Friedlaender, in bracketing Cumis, has not taken this +sufficiently into consideration. Mommsen, in an excellent paper (Hermes, +1878), has laid the scene at Cumae. His logic is almost unanswerable, +and the consensus of opinion is in favor of the latter town. + + + +III + +REALISM. Realism, as we are concerned with it, may be defined as the +literary effect produced by the marshaling of details in their exactitude +for the purpose of bringing out character. The fact that they may be +ugly and vulgar the reverse, makes not the slightest difference. The +modern realist contemplates the inanimate things which surround us with +peculiar complaisance, and it is right that he should as these things +exert upon us a constant and secret influence. The workings of the human +mind, in complex civilizations, are by no means simple; they are involved +and varied: our thoughts, our feelings, our wills, associate themselves +with an infinite number of sensations and images which play one upon the +other, and which individualize, in some measure, every action we commit, +and stamp it. The merit of our modern realists lies in the fact that +they have studied the things which surround us and our relations to them, +and thus have they been able to make their creations conform to human +experience. The ancients gave little attention to this; the man, with +them, was the important thing; the environment the unimportant. There +are, of course, exceptions; the interview between Ulysses and Nausiskaa +is probably the most striking. From the standpoint of environment, +Petronius, in the greater portion of his work, is an ancient; but one +exception there is, and it is as brilliant as it is important. The +entire episode, in which Trimalchio figures, offers an incredible +abundance of details. The descriptions are exhaustive and minute, but +the author’s prime purpose was not description, it was to bring out the +characters, it was to pillory the Roman aristocracy, it was to amuse! +Cicero, in his prosecution of Verres, had shown up this aristocracy in +all its brutality and greed, it remained for the author of the Cena to +hold its absurdity up to the light of day, to lash an extravagance which, +though utterly unbridled, was yet unable to exhaust the looted +accumulations of years of political double dealing and malfeasance in +office. Trimalchio’s introduction is a masterstroke, the porter at the +door is another, the effect of the wine upon the women, their jealousy +lest either’s husband should seem more liberal, their appraisal of each +other’s jewelry, Scintilla’s remark anent the finesse of Habinnas’ +servant in the mere matter of pandering, the blear-eyed and black-toothed +slave, teasing a little bitch disgustingly fat, offering her pieces of +bread and when, from sheer inability, she refuses to eat, cramming it +down her throat, the effect of the alcohol upon Trimalchio, the little +old lady girded round with a filthy apron, wearing clogs which were not +mates, dragging in a huge dog on a chain, the incomparable humor in the +passage in which Hesus, desperately seasick, sees that which makes him +believe that even worse misfortunes are in store for him: these details +are masterpieces of realism. The description of the night-prowling +shyster lawyer, whose forehead is covered with sebaceous wens, is the +very acme of propriety; our first meeting; with the poet Eumolpus is a +beautiful study in background and perspective. Nineteen centuries have +gone their way since this novel was written, but if we look about us we +will be able to recognize, under the veneer of civilization, the +originals of the Satyricon and we will find that here, in a little corner +of the Roman world, all humanity was held in miniature. Petronius must +be credited with the great merit of having introduced realism into the +novel. By an inspiration of genius, he saw that the framework of +frivolous and licentious novels could be enlarged until it took in +contemporary custom and environment. It is that which assures for him +an eminent place, not in Roman literature alone, but in the literature +of the world. + +a--INFLUENCE OF THE SATYRICON UPON LITERATURE. The vagrant heroes of +Petronius are the originals from whom directly, or indirectly, later +authors drew that inspiration which resulted in the great mass of +picaresque fiction; but, great as this is, it is not to this that the +Satyricon owes its powerful influence upon the literature of the world. +It is to the author’s recognition of the importance of environment, +of the vital role of inanimate surroundings as a means for bringing out +character and imbuing his episodes and the actions of his characters with +an air of reality and with those impulses and actions which are common to +human experience, that his influence is due. By this, the Roman created +a new style of writing and inaugurated a class of literature which was +without parallel until the time of Apuleius and, in a lesser degree, of +Lucian. This class of literature, though modified essentially from age +to age, in keeping with the dictates of moral purity or bigotry, innocent +or otherwise, has come to be the very stuff of which literary success in +fiction is made. One may write a successful book without a thread of +romance; one cannot write a successful romance without some knowledge of +realism; the more intimate the knowledge the better the book, and it is +frequently to this that the failure of a novel is due, although the +critic might be at a loss to explain it. Petronius lies behind Tristram +Shandy, his influence can be detected in Smollett, and even Fielding paid +tribute to him. + + + +IV + +FORGERIES OF PETRONIUS. + +From the very nature of the writings of such an author as Petronius, it +is evident that the gaps in the text would have a marked tendency to +stimulate the curiosity of literary forgers and to tempt their sagacity, +literary or otherwise. The recovery of the Trimalchionian episode, and +the subsequent pamphleteering would by no means eradicate this “cacoethes +emendandi.” + +When, circa 1650, the library of the unfortunate Nicolas Cippico yielded +up the Trau fragment, the news of this discovery spread far and wide and +about twelve years later, Statileo, in response to the repeated requests +of the Venetian ambassador, Pietro Basadonna, made with his own hand a +copy of the MS., which he sent to Basadonna. The ambassador, in turn, +permitted this MS. to be printed by one Frambotti, a printer endowed with +more industry than critical acumen, and the resultant textual conflation +had much to do with the pamphlet war which followed. Had this Paduan +printer followed the explicit directions which he received, and printed +exactly what was given him much good paper might have been saved and a +very interesting chapter in the history of literary forgery would +probably never have been written. The pamphlet war did not die out until +Bleau, in 1670-71, printed his exact reproduction of the Trau manuscript +and the corrections introduced by that licentiousness of emendation of +which we have spoken. + +In October, 1690, Francois Nodot, a French soldier of fortune, a +commissary officer who combined belles lettres and philosophy with his +official duties, wrote to Charpentier, President of the Academy of +France, calling, his attention to a copy of a manuscript which he (Nodot) +possessed, and which came into his hands in the following manner: one +Du Pin, a French officer detailed to service with Austria, had been +present at the sack of Belgrade in 1688. That this Du Pin had, while +there, made the acquaintance of a certain Greek renegade, having, as a +matter of fact, stayed in the house of this renegade. The Greek’s +father, a man of some learning, had by some means come into possession of +the MS., and Du Pin, in going through some of the books in the house, had +come across it. He had experienced the utmost difficulty in deciphering +the letters, and finally, driven by curiosity, had retained a copyist and +had it copied out. That this Du Pin had this copy in his house at +Frankfort, and that he had given Nodot to understand that if he (Nodot) +came to Frankfort, he would be permitted to see this copy. Owing to the +exigencies of military service, Nodot had been unable to go in person to +Frankfort, and that he had therefore availed himself of the friendly +interest and services of a certain merchant of Frankfort, who had +volunteered to find an amanuensis, have a copy made, and send it to +Nodot. This was done, and Nodot concludes his letter to Charpentier by +requesting the latter to lay the result before the Academy and ask for +their blessing and approval. These Nodotian Supplements were accepted as +authentic by the Academics of Arles and Nimes, as well as by Charpentier. +In a short time, however, the voices of scholarly skeptics began to be +heard in the land, and accurate and unbiased criticism laid bare the +fraud. The Latinity was attacked and exception taken to Silver Age +prose in which was found a French police regulation which required newly +arrived travellers to register their names in the book of a police +officer of an Italian village of the first century. Although they are +still retained in the text by some editors, this is done to give some +measure of continuity to an otherwise interrupted narrative, but they can +only serve to distort the author and obscure whatever view of him the +reader might otherwise have reached. They are generally printed between +brackets or in different type. + +In 1768 another and far abler forger saw the light of day. Jose +Marchena, a Spaniard of Jewish extraction, was destined for an +ecclesiastical career. He received an excellent education which served +to fortify a natural bent toward languages and historical criticism. In +his early youth he showed a marked preference for uncanonical pursuits +and heretical doctrines and before he had reached his thirtieth year +prudence counseled him to prevent the consequences of his heresy and +avoid the too pressing Inquisition by a timely flight into France. +He arrived there in time to throw himself into the fight for liberty, +and in 1800 we find him at Basle attached to the staff of General Moreau. +While there he is said to have amused himself and some of his cronies by +writing notes on what Davenport would have called “Forbidden Subjects,” + and, as a means of publishing his erotic lucubrations, he constructed +this fragment, which brings in those topics on which he had enlarged. +He translated the fragment into French, attached his notes, and issued +the book. There is another story to the effect that he had been +reprimanded by Moreau for having written a loose song and that he +exculpated himself by assuring the general that it was but a new fragment +of Petronius which he had translated. Two days later he had the fragment +ready to prove his contention. + +This is the account given by his Spanish biographer. In his preface, +dedicated to the Army of the Rhine, he states that he found the fragment +in a manuscript of the work of St. Gennadius on the Duties of Priests, +probably of the XI Century. A close examination revealed the fact that +it was a palimpsest which, after treatment, permitted the restoration of +this fragment. It is supposed to supply the gap in Chapter 26 after the +word “verberabant.” + +Its obscenity outrivals that of the preceding text, and the grammar, +style, and curiosa felicitas Petroniana make it an almost perfect +imitation. There is no internal evidence of forgery. If the text is +closely scrutinized it will be seen that it is composed of words and +expressions taken from various parts of the Satyricon, “and that in every +line it has exactly the Petronian turn of phrase.” + +“Not only is the original edition unprocurable,” to quote again from +Mr. Gaselee’s invaluable bibliography, “but the reprint at Soleure +(Brussels), 1865, consisted of only 120 copies, and is hard to find. +The most accessible place for English readers is in Bohn’s translation, +in which, however, only the Latin text is given; and the notes were a +most important part of the original work.” + +These notes, humorously and perhaps sarcastically ascribed to Lallemand, +Sanctae Theologiae Doctor, “are six in number (all on various forms of +vice); and show great knowledge, classical and sociological, of unsavory +subjects. Now that the book is too rare to do us any harm, we may admit +that the pastiche was not only highly amusing, but showed a perverse +cleverness amounting almost to genius.” + +Marchena died at Madrid in great poverty in 1821. A contemporary has +described him as being rather short and heavy set in figure, of great +frontal development, and vain beyond belief. He considered himself +invincible where women were concerned. He had a peculiar predilection +in the choice of animal pets and was an object of fear and curiosity +to the towns people. His forgery might have been completely successful +had he not acknowledged it himself within two or three years after the +publication of his brochure. The fragment will remain a permanent +tribute to the excellence of his scholarship, but it is his Ode to Christ +Crucified which has made him more generally known, and it is one of the +ironies of fate that caused this deformed giant of sarcasm to compose a +poem of such tender and touching piety. + +Very little is known about Don Joe Antonio Gonzalez de Salas, whose +connecting passages, with the exception of one which is irrelevant, are +here included. + +The learned editors of the Spanish encyclopedia naively preface their +brief sketch with the following assertion: “no tenemos noticias de su +vida.” De Salas was born in 1588 and died in 1654. His edition of +Petronius was first issued in 1629 and re-issued in 1643 with a copper +plate of the Editor. The Paris edition, from which he says he supplied +certain deficiencies in the text, is unknown to bibliographers and is +supposed to be fictitious. + +To distinguish the spurious passages, as a point of interest, in the +present edition, the forgeries of Nodot are printed within round +brackets, the forgery of Marchena within square brackets, and the +additions of De Salas in italics {In this PG etext in curly brackets}. + +The work is also accompanied by a translation of the six notes, the +composition of which led Marchena to forge the fragment which first +appeared in the year 1800. These have never before been translated. + +Thanks are due Ralph Straus, Esq., and Professor Stephen Gaselee. + + + + + THE SATYRICON OF + PETRONIUS ARBITER + + +BRACKET CODE: + (Forgeries of Nodot) + [Forgeries of Marchena] + {Additions of De Salas} + DW + + +VOLUME 1.--ADVENTURES OF ENCOLPIUS AND HIS COMPANIONS + + +CHAPTER THE FIRST. + +(It has been so long; since I promised you the story of my adventures, +that I have decided to make good my word today; and, seeing that we have +thus fortunately met, not to discuss scientific matters alone, but also +to enliven our jolly conversation with witty stories. Fabricius Veiento +has already spoken very cleverly on the errors committed in the name of +religion, and shown how priests, animated by an hypocritical mania for +prophecy, boldly expound mysteries which are too often such to +themselves. But) are our rhetoricians tormented by another species of +Furies when they cry, “I received these wounds while fighting for the +public liberty; I lost this eye in your defense: give me a guide who will +lead me to my children, my limbs are hamstrung and will not hold me up!” + Even these heroics could be endured if they made easier the road to +eloquence; but as it is, their sole gain from this ferment of matter and +empty discord of words is, that when they step into the Forum, they think +they have been carried into another world. And it is my conviction that +the schools are responsible for the gross foolishness of our young men, +because, in them, they see or hear nothing at all of the affairs of +every-day life, but only pirates standing in chains upon the shore, +tyrants scribbling edicts in which sons are ordered to behead their own +fathers; responses from oracles, delivered in time of pestilence, +ordering the immolation of three or more virgins; every word a honied +drop, every period sprinkled with poppy-seed and sesame. + + + + +CHAPTER THE SECOND. + +Those who are brought up on such a diet can no more attain to wisdom than +a kitchen scullion can attain to a keen sense of smell or avoid stinking +of the grease. With your indulgence, I will speak out: you--teachers +--are chiefly responsible for the decay of oratory. With your well +modulated and empty tones you have so labored for rhetorical effect that +the body of your speech has lost its vigor and died. Young men did not +learn set speeches in the days when Sophocles and Euripides were +searching for words in which to express themselves. In the days when +Pindar and the nine lyric poets feared to attempt Homeric verse there was +no private tutor to stifle budding genius. I need not cite the poets for +evidence, for I do not find that either Plato or Demosthenes was given +to this kind of exercise. A dignified and, if I may say it, a chaste, +style, is neither elaborate nor loaded with ornament; it rises supreme by +its own natural purity. This windy and high-sounding bombast, a recent +immigrant to Athens, from Asia, touched with its breath the aspiring +minds of youth, with the effect of some pestilential planet, and as soon +as the tradition of the past was broken, eloquence halted and was +stricken dumb. Since that, who has attained to the sublimity of +Thucydides, who rivalled the fame of Hyperides? Not a single poem +has glowed with a healthy color, but all of them, as though nourished +on the same diet, lacked the strength to live to old age. Painting +also suffered the same fate when the presumption of the Egyptians +“commercialized” that incomparable art. (I was holding forth along these +lines one day, when Agamemnon came up to us and scanned with a curious +eye a person to whom the audience was listening so closely.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRD. + +He would not permit me to declaim longer in the portico than he himself +had sweat in the school, but exclaimed, “Your sentiments do not reflect +the public taste, young man, and you are a lover of common sense, which +is still more unusual. For that reason, I will not deceive you as to the +secrets of my profession. The teachers, who must gibber with lunatics, +are by no means to blame for these exercises. Unless they spoke in +accordance with the dictates of their young pupils, they would, as Cicero +remarks, be left alone in the schools! And, as designing parasites, when +they seek invitations to the tables of the rich, have in mind nothing +except what will, in their opinion, be most acceptable to their audience +--for in no other way can they secure their ends, save by setting snares +for the ears--so it is with the teachers of rhetoric, they might be +compared with the fisherman, who, unless he baits his hook with what he +knows is most appetizing to the little fish, may wait all day upon some +rock, without the hope of a catch.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FOURTH. + +What, then, is there to do? The parents who are unwilling to permit +their children to undergo a course of training under strict discipline, +are the ones who deserve the reproof. In the first place, everything +they possess, including the children, is devoted to ambition. Then, that +their wishes may the more quickly be realized, they drive these unripe +scholars into the forum, and the profession of eloquence, than which none +is considered nobler, devolves upon boys who are still in the act of +being born! If, however, they would permit a graded course of study to +be prescribed, in order that studious boys might ripen their minds by +diligent reading; balance their judgment by precepts of wisdom, correct +their compositions with an unsparing pen, hear at length what they ought +to imitate, and be convinced that nothing can be sublime when it is +designed to catch the fancy of boys, then the grand style of oratory +would immediately recover the weight and splendor of its majesty. Now +the boys play in the schools, the young men are laughed at in the forum, +and, a worse symptom than either, no one, in his old age, will confess +the errors he was taught in his school days. But that you may not +imagine that I disapprove of a jingle in the Lucilian manner, I will +deliver my opinions in verse,-- + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTH. + + “The man who emerges with fame, from the school of stern art, + + Whose mind gropes for lofty ideals, to bring them to light, + + Must first, under rigid frugality, study his part; + + Nor yearn for the courts of proud princes who frown in their might: + + Nor scheme with the riff-raf, a client in order to dine, + + Nor can he with evil companions his wit drown in wine + + Nor sit, as a hireling, applauding an actor’s grimace. + + But, whether the fortress of arms-bearing Tritonis smile + + Upon him, or land which the Spartan colonials grace, + + Or home of the sirens, with poetry let him beguile + + The years of young manhood, and at the Maeonian spring + + His fortunate soul drink its fill: Then, when later, the lore + + Of Socrates’ school he has mastered, the reins let him fling, + + And brandish the weapons that mighty Demosthenes bore. + + Then, steeped in the culture and music of Greece, let his taste + + Be ripened and mellowed by all the great writers of Rome. + + At first, let him haunt not the courts; let his pages be graced + + By ringing and rhythmic effusions composed in his home + + Next, banquets and wars be his theme, sung in soul-stirring chant, + + In eloquent words such as undaunted Cicero chose. + + Come! Gird up thy soul! Inspiration will then force a vent + + And rush in a flood from a heart that is loved by the muse!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTH. + +I was listening so attentively to this speech that I did not notice the +flight of Ascyltos, and while I was pacing the gardens, engulfed in this +flood-tide of rhetoric, a large crowd of students came out upon the +portico, having, it would seem, just listened to an extemporaneous +declamation, of I know not whom, the speaker of which had taken +exceptions to the speech of Agamemnon. While, therefore, the young men +were making fun of the sentiments of this last speaker, and criticizing +the arrangement of the whole speech, I seized the opportunity and went +after Ascyltos, on the run; but, as I neither held strictly to the road, +nor knew where the inn was located, wherever I went, I kept coming back +to the same place, until, worn out with running, and long since dripping +with sweat, I approached a certain little old woman who sold country +vegetables. + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. + +“Please, mother,” I wheedled, “you don’t know where I lodge, do you?” + Delighted with such humorous affability, “What’s the reason I don’t” she +replied, and getting upon her feet, she commenced to walk ahead of me. I +took her for a prophetess until, when presently we came to a more obscure +quarter, the affable old lady pushed aside a crazy-quilt and remarked, +“Here’s where you ought to live,” and when I denied that I recognized the +house, I saw some men prowling stealthily between the rows of name-boards +and naked prostitutes. Too late I realized that I had been led into a +brothel. After cursing the wiles of the little old hag, I covered my +head and commenced to run through the middle of the night-house to the +exit opposite, when, lo and behold! whom should I meet on the very +threshold but Ascyltos himself, as tired as I was, and almost dead; you +would have thought that he had been brought by the self-same little old +hag! I smiled at that, greeted him cordially, and asked him what he was +doing in such a scandalous place. + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. + +Wiping away the sweat with his hands, he replied, “If you only knew what +I have gone through!” “What was it?” I demanded. “A most respectable +looking person came up to me,” he made reply, “while I was wandering all +over the town and could not find where I had left my inn, and very +graciously offered to guide me. He led me through some very dark and +crooked alleys, to this place, pulled out his tool, and commenced to beg +me to comply with his appetite. A whore had already vacated her cell for +an as, and he had laid hands upon me, and, but for the fact that I was +the stronger, I would have been compelled to take my medicine.” (While +Ascyltos was telling me of his bad luck, who should come up again but +this same very respectable looking person, in company with a woman not at +all bad looking, and, looking at Ascyltos, he requested him to enter the +house, assuring him that there was nothing to fear, and, since he was +unwilling to take the passive part, he should have the active. The +woman, on her part, urged me very persistently to accompany her, so we +followed the couple, at last, and were conducted between the rows of +name-boards, where we saw, in cells, many persons of each sex amusing +themselves in such a manner) that it seemed to me that every one of them +must have been drinking satyrion. (On catching sight of us, they +attempted to seduce us with paederastic wantonness, and one wretch, with +his clothes girded up, assaulted Ascyltos, and, having thrown him down +upon a couch, attempted to gore him from above. I succored the sufferer +immediately, however,) and having joined forces, we defied the +troublesome wretch. (Ascyltos ran out of the house and took to his +heels, leaving me as the object of their lewd attacks, but the crowd, +finding me the stronger in body and purpose, let me go unharmed.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINTH. + +(After having tramped nearly all over the city,) I caught sight of Giton, +as though through a fog, standing at the end of the street, (on the very +threshold of the inn,) and I hastened to the same place. When I inquired +whether my “brother” had prepared anything for breakfast, the boy sat +down upon the bed and wiped away the trickling tears with his thumb. +I was greatly disturbed by such conduct on the part of my “brother,” and +demanded to be told what had happened. After I had mingled threats with +entreaties, he answered slowly and against his will, “That brother or +comrade of yours rushed into the room a little while ago and commenced to +attempt my virtue by force. When I screamed, he pulled out his tool and +gritted out--If you’re a Lucretia, you’ve found your Tarquin!” When I +heard this, I shook my fists in Ascyltos’ face, “What have you to say for +yourself,” I snarled, “you rutting pathic harlot, whose very breath is +infected?” Ascyltos pretended to bristle up and, shaking his fists more +boldly still, he roared: “Won’t you keep quiet, you filthy gladiator, you +who escaped from the criminal’s cage in the amphitheatre to which you +were condemned (for the murder of your host?) Won’t you hold your +tongue, you nocturnal assassin, who, even when you swived it bravely, +never entered the lists with a decent woman in your life? Was I not a +‘brother’ to you in the pleasure-garden, in the same sense as that in +which this boy now is in this lodging-house?” “You sneaked away from the +master’s lecture,” I objected. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TENTH. “What should I have done, you triple fool, when I was +dying of hunger? I suppose I should have listened to opinions as much to +the purpose as the tinkle of broken glass or the interpretation of +dreams. By Hercules, you are much more deserving of censure than I, you +who will flatter a poet so as to get an invitation to dinner!” Then we +laughed ourselves out of a most disgraceful quarrel, and approached more +peaceably whatever remained to be done. But the remembrance of that +injury recurred to my mind and, “Ascyltos,” I said, “I know we shall not +be able to agree, so let us divide our little packs of common stock and +try to defeat our poverty by our individual efforts. Both you and I know +letters, but that I may not stand in the way of any undertaking of yours, +I will take up some other profession. Otherwise, a thousand trifles will +bring us into daily collision and furnish cause for gossip through the +whole town.” Ascyltos made no objection to this, but merely remarked, +“As we, in our capacity of scholars, have accepted an invitation to +dinner, for this date, let us not lose our night. Since it seems to be +the graceful thing to do, I will look out for another lodging and another +‘brother,’ tomorrow.” “Deferred pleasures are a long time coming,” + I sighed. It was lust that made this separation so hasty, for I had, for +a long time, wished to be rid of a troublesome chaperon, so that I could +resume my old relations with my Giton. (Bearing this affront with +difficulty, Ascyltos rushed from the room, without uttering a word. +Such a headlong outburst augured badly, for I well knew his ungovernable +temper and his unbridled passion. On this account, I followed him out, +desirous of fathoming his designs and of preventing their consequences, +but he hid himself skillfully from my eyes, and all in vain, I searched +for him for a long time.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. + +After having had the whole town under my eyes, I returned to the little +room and, having claimed the kisses which were mine in good faith, I +encircled the boy in the closest of embraces and enjoyed the effect of +our happy vows to a point that might be envied. Nor had all the +ceremonies been completed, when Ascyltos stole stealthily up to the +outside of the door and, violently wrenching off the bars, burst in upon +me, toying with my “brother.” He filled the little room with his +laughter and hand-clapping, pulled away the cloak which covered us, “What +are you up to now, most sanctimonious ‘brother’?” he jeered. “What’s +going on here, a blanket-wedding?” Nor did he confine himself to words, +but, pulling the strap off his bag, he began to lash me very thoroughly, +interjecting sarcasms the while, “This is the way you would share with +your comrade, is it!” (The unexpectedness of the thing compelled me to +endure the blows in silence and to put up with the abuse, so I smiled at +my calamity, and very prudently, too, as otherwise I should have been put +to the necessity of fighting with a rival. My pretended good humor +soothed his anger, and at last, Ascyltos smiled as well. “See here, +Encolpius,” he said, “are you so engrossed with your debaucheries that +you do not realize that our money is gone, and that what we have left is +of no value? In the summer, times are bad in the city. The country is +luckier, let’s go and visit our friends.” Necessity compelled the +approval of this plan, and the repression of any sense of injury as well, +so, loading Giton with our packs, we left the city and hastened to the +country-seat of Lycurgus, a Roman knight. Inasmuch as Ascyltos has +formerly served him in the capacity of “brother,” he received us royally, +and the company there assembled, rendered our stay still more delightful. +In the first place, there was Tryphaena, a most beautiful woman, who had +come in company with Lycas, the master of a vessel and owner of estates +near the seashore. Although Lycurgus kept a frugal table, the pleasures +we enjoyed in this most enchanting spot cannot be described in words. +Of course you know that Venus joined us all up, as quickly as possible. +The lovely Tryphaena pleased my taste, and listened willingly to my vows, +but hardly had I had time to enjoy her favors when Lycas, in a towering +rage because his preserves had been secretly invaded, demanded that I +indemnify him in her stead. She was an old flame of his, so he broached +the subject of a mutual exchange of favors. Burning with lust, he +pressed his suit, but Tryphaena possessed my heart, and I said Lycas nay. +By refusal, however, he was only made more ardent, followed me +everywhere, entered my room at night, and, after his entreaties had met +with contempt, he had recourse to violence against me, at which I yelled +so lustily that I aroused the entire household, and, by the help of +Lycurgus, I was delivered from the troublesome assault and escaped. At +last, perceiving that the house of Lycurgus was not suitable to the +prosecution of his design, he attempted to persuade me to seek his +hospitality, and when his suggestion was refused, he made use of +Tryphaena’s influence over me. She besought me to comply with Lycas’ +desires, and she did this all the more readily as by that she hoped to +gain more liberty of action. With affairs in this posture, I follow my +love, but Lycurgus, who had renewed his old relations with Ascyltos, +would not permit him to leave, so it was decided that he should remain +with Lycurgus, but that we would accompany Lycas. Nevertheless, we had +it understood among ourselves that whenever the opportunity presented +itself, we would each pilfer whatever we could lay hands upon, for the +betterment of the common stock. Lycas was highly delighted with my +acceptance of his invitation and hastened our departure, so, bidding our +friends good-bye, we arrived at his place on the very same day. Lycas +had so arranged matters that, on the journey, he sat beside me, while +Tryphaena was next to Giton, the reason for this being his knowledge +of the woman’s notorious inconstancy; nor was he deceived, for she +immediately fell in love with the boy, and I easily perceived it. +In addition, Lycas took the trouble of calling my attention to the +situation, and laid stress upon the truth of what we saw. On this +account, I received his advances more graciously, at which he was +overjoyed. He was certain that contempt would be engendered from the +inconstancy of my “sister,” with the result that, being piqued at +Tryphaena, I would all the more freely receive his advances. Now this +was the state of affairs at the house of Lycas, Tryphaena was desperately +in love with Giton, Giton’s whole soul was aflame for her, neither of +them was a pleasing sight to my eyes, and Lycas, studying to please me, +arranged novel entertainments each day, which Doris, his lovely wife, +seconded to the best of her ability, and so gracefully that she soon +expelled Tryphaena from my heart. A wink of the eye acquainted Doris of +my passion, a coquettish glance informed me of the state of her heart, +and this silent language, anticipating the office of the tongue, secretly +expressed that longing of our souls which we had both experienced at the +same instant. The jealousy of Lycas, already well known to me, was the +cause of my silence, but love itself revealed to the wife the designs +which Lycas had upon me. At our first opportunity of exchanging +confidences, she revealed to me what she had discovered and I candidly +confessed, telling her of the coldness with which I had always met his +advances. The far-sighted woman remarked that it would be necessary for +us to use our wits. It turned out that her advice was sound, for I soon +found out that complacency to the one meant possession of the other. +Giton, in the meantime, was recruiting his exhausted strength, and +Tryphaena turned her attention to me, but, meeting with a repulse, she +flounced out in a rage. The next thing this burning harlot did was to +discover my commerce with both husband and wife. As for his wantonness +with me, she flung that aside, as by it she lost nothing, but she fell +upon the secret gratifications of Doris and made them known to Lycas, +who, his jealousy proving stronger than his lust, took steps to get +revenge. Doris, however, forewarned by Tryphaena’s maid, looked out +for squalls and held aloof from any secret assignations. When I became +aware of all this, I heartily cursed the perfidy of Tryphaena and the +ungrateful soul of Lycas, and made up my mind to be gone. Fortune +favored me, as it turned out, for a vessel sacred to Isis and laden with +prize-money had, only the day before, run upon the rocks in the vicinity. +After holding a consultation with Giton, at which he gladly gave consent +to my plan, as Tryphaena visibly neglected him after having sapped his +virility, we hastened to the sea-shore early on the following morning, +and boarded the wreck, a thing easy of accomplishment as the watchmen, +who were in the pay of Lycas, knew us well. But they were so attentive +to us that there was no opportunity of stealing a thing until, having +left Giton with them, I craftily slipped out of sight and sneaked aft +where the statue of Isis stood, and despoiled it of a valuable mantle and +a silver sistrum. From the master’s cabin, I also pilfered other +valuable trifles and, stealthily sliding down a rope, went ashore. Giton +was the only one who saw me and he evaded the watchmen and slipped away +after me. I showed him the plunder, when he joined me, and we decided +to post with all speed to Ascyltos, but we did not arrive at the home of +Lycurgus until the following day. In a few words I told Ascyltos of the +robbery, when he joined us, and of our unfortunate love-affairs as well. +He was for prepossessing the mind of Lycurgus in our favor, naming the +increasing wantonness of Lycas as the cause of our secret and sudden +change of habitation. When Lycurgus had heard everything, he swore +that he would always be a tower of strength between us and our enemies. +Until Tryphaena and Doris were awake and out of bed, our flight remained +undiscovered, for we paid them the homage of a daily attendance at the +morning toilette. When our unwonted absence was noted, Lycas sent out +runners to comb the sea-shore, for he suspected that we had been to the +wreck, but he was still unaware of the robbery, which was yet unknown +because the stern of the wreck was lying away from the beach, and the +master had not, as yet, gone back aboard. Lycas flew into a towering +rage when our flight was established for certain, and railed bitterly at +Doris, whom he considered as the moving factor in it. Of the hard words +and the beating he gave her I will say nothing, for the particulars are +not known to me, but I will affirm that Tryphaena, who was the sole cause +of the unpleasantness, persuaded Lycas to hunt for his fugitives in the +house of Lycurgus, which was our most probable sanctuary. She +volunteered to accompany him in person, so that she could load us with +the abuse which we deserved at her hands. They set out on the following +day and arrived at the estate of Lycurgus, but we were not there, for he +had taken us to a neighboring town to attend the feast of Hercules, which +was there being celebrated. As soon as they found out about this, they +hastened to take to the road and ran right into us in the portico of the +temple. At sight of them, we were greatly put out, and Lycas held forth +violently to Lycurgus, upon the subject of our flight, but he was met +with raised eyebrows and such a scowling forehead that I plucked up +courage and, in a loud voice, passed judgment upon his lewd and base +attempts and assaults upon me, not in the house of Lycurgus alone, but +even under his own roof: and as for the meddling Tryphaena, she received +her just deserts, for, at great length, I described her moral turpitude +to the crowd, our altercation had caused a mob to collect, and, to give +weight to my argument, I pointed to limber-hamed Giton, drained dry, as +it were, and to myself, reduced almost to skin and bones by the raging +lust of that nymphomaniac harlot. So humiliated were our enemies by the +guffaws of the mob, that in gloomy ill-humor they beat a retreat to plot +revenge. As they perceived that we had prepossessed the mind of Lycurgus +in our favor, they decided to await his return, at his estate, in order +that they might wean him away from his misapprehension. As the +solemnities did not draw to a close until late at night, we could not +reach Lycurgus’ country place, so he conducted us to a villa of his, +situated near the halfway point of the journey, and, leaving us to sleep +there until the next day, he set off for his estate for the purpose of +transacting some business. Upon his arrival, he found Lycas and +Tryphaena awaiting him, and they stated their case so diplomatically that +they prevailed upon him to deliver us into their hands. Lycurgus, cruel +by nature and incapable of keeping his word, was by this time striving to +hit upon the best method of betraying us, and to that end, he persuaded +Lycas to go for help, while he himself returned to the villa and had us +put under guard. To the villa he came, and greeted us with a scowl as +black as any Lycas himself had ever achieved, clenching his fists again +and again, he charged us with having lied about Lycas, and, turning +Ascyltos out, he gave orders that we were to be kept confined to the room +in which we had retired to rest. Nor would he hear a word in our +defense, from Ascyltos, but, taking the latter with him, he returned to +his estate, reiterating his orders relative to our confinement, which was +to last until his return. On the way back, Ascyltos vainly essayed to +break down Lycurgus’ determination, but neither prayers nor caresses, nor +even tears could move him. Thereupon my “brother” conceived the design +of freeing us from our chains, and, antagonized by the stubbornness of +Lycurgus, he positively refused to sleep with him, and through this he +was in a better position to carry out the plan which he had thought out. +When the entire household was buried in its first sleep, Ascyltos loaded +our little packs upon his back and slipped out through a breach in the +wall, which he had previously noted, arriving at the villa with the dawn. +He gained entrance without opposition and found his way to our room, +which the guards had taken the precaution to bar. It was easy to force +an entrance, as the fastening was made of wood, which same he pried off +with a piece of iron. The fall of the lock roused us, for we were +snoring away, in spite of our unfortunate situation. On account of the +long vigil, the guard was in such a deep sleep that we alone were wakened +by the crashing fall of the lock, and Ascyltos, coming in, told us in a +few words what he had done for us; but as far as that goes, not many were +necessary. We were hurriedly dressing, when I was seized with the notion +of killing the guard and stripping the place. This plan I confided to +Ascyltos, who approved of the looting, but pointed out a more desirable +solution without bloodshed: knowing all the crooks and turns, as he did, +he led us to a store-room which he opened. We gathered up all that was +of value and sallied forth while it was yet early in the morning. +Shunning the public roads; we could not rest until we believed ourselves +safe from pursuit. Ascyltos, when he had caught his breath, gloatingly +exulted of the pleasure which the looting of a villa belonging to +Lycurgus, a superlatively avaricious man, afforded him: he complained, +with justice of his parsimony, affirming that he himself had received no +reward for his k-nightly services, that he had been kept at a dry table +and on a skimpy ration of food. This Lycurgus was so stingy that he +denied himself even the necessities of life, his immense wealth to the +contrary notwithstanding.) + + The tortured Tantalus still stands, to parch in his shifting pool, + + And starve, when fruit sways just beyond his grasp: + + The image of the miser rich, when his avaricious soul + + Robs him of food and drink, in Plenty’s clasp. + +(Ascyltos was for going to Naples that same day, but I protested the +imprudence of going to any place where they would be on the lookout for +us. “Let’s absent ourselves, for a while, and travel in the country. We +are well supplied with means.” This advice took his fancy and we set out +for a part of the country noted for the beauty of its estates, and where +not a few of our acquaintances were enjoying the sports of the season. +Scarcely had we covered half the distance, however, before it began to +pour down rain by the bucketful, compelling us to run for the nearest +village. Upon entering the inn, we noticed many other wayfarers, who had +put up there to escape the storm. The jam prevented our being watched, +and at the same time made it easier for us to pry about with curious +eyes, on the alert for something to appropriate. Ascyltos, unseen by +anyone, picked up off the ground a little pouch in which he found some +gold pieces. We were overjoyed with this auspicious beginning, but, +fearing that some one would miss the gold, we stealthily slipped out by +the back door. A slave, who was saddling a horse in the courtyard, +suddenly left his work and went into the house, as if he had forgotten +something, and while he was gone I appropriated a superb mantle which was +tied fast to the saddle, by untying the thongs, then, utilizing a row of +outbuildings for cover, we made off into the nearest wood. When we had +reached the depths of the grove, where we were in safety, we thoroughly +discussed the surest method of secreting our gold, so that we would +neither be accused of robbery nor robbed ourselves, and we finally +decided to sew it into the hem of a ragged tunic, which I threw over my +shoulders, after having turned the mantle over to Ascyltos for +safekeeping; we then made ready to start for the city via the +unfrequented roads. We were just about to emerge from the shelter of +the wood when we heard, from somewhere on our left, “They can’t get away, +they came into this wood; let’s spread out and beat, and they will easily +be caught!” On hearing this, we were thrown into such a terrible fright +that Ascyltos and Giton dashed away city-ward, through the underbrush, +and I retreated in such a hurry that the precious tunic slipped off my +shoulders without my knowing it. At last, completely fagged out, and +unable to take another step, I lay down under a tree, and there I first +became aware of the loss of the tunic. Chagrin restored my strength and +I leaped to my feet to look for the treasure, and for a long time I beat +around in vain. Worn out with work and vexation, I forced my way into +the thickest part of the grove and remained there for four mortal hours, +but at last, bored to extinction by the horrible solitude, I sought a way +out. As I went ahead, I caught sight of a peasant; then I had need of +all my nerve, and it did not fail me. Marching boldly up to him, I asked +my way to the city, complaining that I had been lost in the wood for +several hours. Seeing my condition, he took pity upon me, for I was +covered with mud and paler than death, and asked me whether I had seen +anyone in the place. “Not a soul,” I replied, whereupon he kindly +conducted me to the high road, where he met two of his companions, who +informed him that they had beaten along every path in the forest without +having found anything except a tunic, which they showed him. As may be +readily supposed, I did not have the audacity to claim it, though well +aware of its value, and my chagrin became almost insupportable as I +vented many a groaning curse over my lost treasure. The peasants paid +no attention to me, and I was gradually left behind, as my weakness +increased my pace decreased. For this reason, it was late when I reached +the city, and, entering the inn, beheld Ascyltos, stretched out, half +dead, upon a cot. Too far gone to utter a single syllable, I threw +myself upon another. Ascyltos became greatly excited at not seeing the +tunic which he had entrusted to me, demanding it insistently, but I was +so weak that my voice refused its office and I permitted the apathy of my +eyes to answer his demand, then, by and by, regaining my strength little +by little, I related the whole affair to Ascyltos, in every detail. He +thought that I was joking, and although my testimony was fortified by a +copious flood of tears, it could easily be seen that he remained +unconvinced, believing that I wanted to cheat him out of the gold. +Giton, who was standing by during all this, was as downcast as myself, +and the suffering of the lad only served to increase my own vexation, but +the thing which bothered me most of all, was the painstaking search which +was being made for us; I told Ascyltos of this, but he only laughed it +off, as he had so happily extricated himself from the scrape. He was +convinced that, as we were unknown and as no one had seen us, we were +perfectly safe. We decided, nevertheless, to feign sickness, and to keep +to our room as long as possible; but, before we knew it, our money ran +out, and spurred by necessity we were forced to go abroad and sell some +of our plunder.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. + +Twilight was falling, as we entered the market-place, in which we noticed +a quantity of things for sale, not any of much value, it is true, but +such as could be disposed of to the best advantage when the semi-darkness +would serve to hide their doubtful origin. As we had brought our stolen +mantle, we proceeded to make use of so favorable an opportunity, and, in +a secluded spot, displayed a corner of it, hoping the splendid garment +would attract some purchaser. Nor was it long before a certain peasant, +whose face was familiar to my eyes, came up, accompanied by a young +woman, and began to examine the garment very closely. Ascyltos, in turn, +cast a glance at the shoulders of our rustic customer, and was instantly +struck dumb with astonishment. Nor could I myself look upon this man +without some emotion, for he seemed to be the identical person who had +picked up the ragged tunic in the lonely wood, and, as a matter of fact, +he was! Ascyltos, afraid to believe the evidence of his own eyes for +fear of doing something rash, approached the man, as a prospective buyer, +took the hem of the tunic from the rustic’s shoulders, and felt it +thoroughly. + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. + +Oh wonderful stroke of Fortune! The peasant had not yet laid his +meddling hands upon the seams, but was scornfully offering the thing for +sale, as though it had been the leavings of some beggar. When Ascyltos +had assured himself that the hoard was intact, and had taken note of the +social status of the seller, he led me a little aside from the crowd and +said, “Do you know, ‘brother,’ that the treasure about which I was so +worked up has come back to us? That is the little tunic, and it seems +that the gold pieces are still untouched. What ought we to do, and how +shall we make good our claim?” I was overjoyed, not so much at seeing +our booty, as I was for the reason that Fortune had released me from a +very ugly suspicion. I was opposed to doing anything by devious methods, +thinking that should he prove unwilling to restore to the proper owner an +article not his own, it ought to come to a civil action and a judgment +secured. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH. + +Not so Ascyltos, who was afraid of the law, and demurred, “Who knows us +here? Who will place any credence in anything we say? It seems to me +that it would be better to buy, ours though it is, and we know it, and +recover the treasure at small cost, rather than to engage in a doubtful +lawsuit.” + + Of what avail are any laws, where money rules alone, + + Where Poverty can never win its cases? + + Detractors of the times, who bear the Cynic’s scrip, are known + + To often sell the truth, and keep their faces! + + So Justice is at public auction bought, + + The knight gives judgement as Gold says he ought. + +But, with the exception of a two-as piece with which we had intended +purchasing peas and lupines, there was nothing to hand; so, for fear our +loot should escape us in the interim, we resolved to appraise the mantle +at less, and, through a small sacrifice, secure a greater profit. +Accordingly, we spread it out, and the young woman of the covered head, +who was standing by the peasant’s side, narrowly inspected the markings, +seized the hem with both hands, and screamed “Thieves!” at the top of her +voice. We were greatly disconcerted at this and, for fear that +inactivity on our part should seem to lend color to her charges, we +laid hold of the dirty ragged tunic, in our turn, and shouted with equal +spite, that this was our property which they had in their possession; but +our cases were by no means on an equality, and the hucksters who had +crowded around us at the uproar, laughed at our spiteful claim, and very +naturally, too, since one side laid claim to a very valuable mantle, +while the other demanded a rag which was not worth a good patch. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH. + +Ascyltos, when he had secured silence, adroitly put a stop to their +laughter by exclaiming, “We can see that each puts the greater value upon +his own property. Let them return our tunic to us, and take back their +mantle!” This exchange was satisfactory enough to the peasant and the +young woman, but some night-prowling shyster lawyers, who wished to get +possession of the mantle for their own profit, demanded that both +articles be deposited with them, and the judge could look into the case +on the morrow, for it would appear that the ownership of the articles was +not so much to the point as was the suspicion of robbery that attached +to both sides. The question of sequestration arose, and one of the +hucksters, I do not remember which, but he was bald, and his forehead was +covered with sebaceous wens, and he sometimes did odd jobs for the +lawyers, seized the mantle and vowed that HE would see to it that it was +produced at the proper time and place, but it was easily apparent that he +desired nothing but that the garment should be deposited with thieves, +and vanish; thinking that we would be afraid to appear as claimants for +fear of being charged with crime. As far as we were concerned, we were +as willing as he, and Fortune aided the cause of each of us, for the +peasant, infuriated at our demand that his rags be shown in public, threw +the tunic in Ascyltos’ face, released us from responsibility, and +demanded that the mantle, which was the only object of litigation, be +sequestered. As we thought we had recovered our treasure, we returned +hurriedly to the inn, and fastening the door, we had a good laugh at the +shrewdness of the hucksters, and not less so at that of our enemies, for +by it they had returned our money to us. (While we were unstitching the +tunic to get at the gold pieces, we overheard some one quizzing the +innkeeper as to what kind of people those were, who had just entered his +house. Alarmed at this inquiry, I went down, when the questioner had +gone, to find out what was the matter, and learned that the praetor’s +lictor, whose duty it was to see that the names of strangers were entered +in his rolls, had seen two people come into the inn, whose names were not +yet entered, and that was the reason he had made inquiry as to their +names and means of support. Mine host furnished this information in such +an offhand manner that I became suspicious as to our entire safety in his +house; so, in order to avoid arrest, we decided to go out, and not to +return home until after dark, and we sallied forth, leaving the +management of dinner to Giton. As it suited our purpose to avoid the +public streets, we strolled through the more unfrequented parts of the +city, and just at dusk we met two women in stolas, in a lonely spot, and +they were by no means homely. Walking softly, we followed them to a +temple which they entered, and from which we could hear a curious +humming, which resembled the sound of voices issuing from the depths of a +cavern. Curiosity impelled us also to enter the temple. There we caught +sight of many women, who resembled Bacchantes, each of whom brandished in +her right hand an emblem of Priapus. We were not permitted to see more, +for as their eyes fell upon us, they raised such a hubbub that the vault +of the temple trembled. They attempted to lay hands upon us, but we ran +back to our inn as fast as we could go.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH. + +We had just disposed of the supper prepared by Giton, when there came a +timid rapping at the door. We turned pale. “Who is there?” we asked. +“Open and you will find out,” came the answer. While we were speaking, +the bar fell down of its own accord, the doors flew open and admitted our +visitor. She was the selfsame young lady of the covered head who had but +a little while before stood by the peasant’s side. “So you thought,” + said she, “that you could make a fool of me, did you? I am Quartilla’s +handmaid: Quartilla, whose rites you interrupted in the shrine. She has +come to the inn, in person, and begs permission to speak with you. Don’t +be alarmed! She neither blames your mistake nor does she demand +punishment; on the contrary, she wonders what god has brought such +well-bred young gentlemen into her neighborhood!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH. + +We were still holding our tongues and refraining from any expression of +opinion, when the lady herself entered the room, attended by a little +girl. Seating herself upon the bed, she wept for a long time. Not even +then did we interject a single word, but waited, all attention, for what +was to follow these well ordered tears and this show of grief. When the +diplomatic thunderstorm had passed over, she withdrew her haughty head +from her mantle and, ringing her hands until the joints cracked, “What is +the meaning of such audacity?” she demanded; “where did you learn such +tricks? They are worthy of putting to shame the assurance of all the +robbers of the past! I pity you, so help me the God of Truth, I do; for +no one can look with impunity upon that which it is unlawful for him to +see. In our neighborhood, there are so many gods that it is easier to +meet one than it is to find a man! But do not think that I was actuated +by any desire for revenge when I came here: I am more moved by your age +than I am by my own injury, for it is my belief that youthful imprudence +led you into committing a sacrilegious crime. That very night, I tossed +so violently in the throes of a dangerous chill that I was afraid I had +contracted a tertian ague, and in my dreams I prayed for a medicine. I +was ordered to seek you out, and to arrest the progress of the disease by +means of an expedient to be suggested by your wonderful penetration! The +cure does not matter so much, however, for a deeper grief gnaws at my +vitals and drags me down, almost to the very doors of death itself. I am +afraid that, with the careless impulsiveness of youth, you may divulge, +to the common herd, what you witnessed in the shrine of Priapus, and +reveal the rites of the gods to the rabble. On this account, I stretch +out my suppliant hands to your knees, and beg and pray that you do not +make a mockery and a joke of our nocturnal rites, nor lay bare the +secrets of so many years, into which scarcely a thousand persons are +initiated.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH. + +The tears poured forth again, after this appeal, and, shaken by deep +sobs, she buried her whole face and breast in my bed; and I, moved by +pity and by apprehension, begged her to be of good cheer and to make +herself perfectly easy as to both of those issues, for not only would we +not betray any secrets to the rabble, but we would also second divine +providence, at any peril to ourselves, if any god had indicated to her +any cure for her tertian ague. The woman cheered up at this promise, and +smothered me with kisses; from tears she passed to laughter, and fell to +running her fingers through the long hair that hung down about my ears. +“I will declare a truce with you,” she said, “and withdraw my complaint. +But had you been unwilling to administer the medicine which I seek, I had +a troop in readiness for the morrow, which would have exacted +satisfaction for my injury and reparation for my dignity! + + To be flouted is disgraceful, but to dictate terms, sublime + + Pleased am I to choose what course I will, + + Even sages will retort an insult at the proper tune. + + Victor most is he who does not kill.” + +Then she suddenly clapped her hands, and broke into such a peal of +laughter that we were alarmed. The maid, who had been the first to +arrive, did likewise, on one side of us, as also did the little girl who +had entered with the madame herself. + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH. + +The whole place was filled with mocking laughter, and we, who could see +no reason for such a change of front, stared blankly at each other and +then at the women. (Then Quartilla spoke up, finally,) “I gave orders +that no mortal man should be admitted into this inn, this day, so that I +could receive the treatment for my ague without interruption!” Ascyltos +was, for the moment, struck dumb by this admission of Quartilla’s, and I +turned colder than a Gallic winter, and could not utter a word; but the +personnel of the company relieved me from the fear that the worst might +be yet to come, for they were only three young women, too weak to attempt +any violence against us, who were of the male sex, at least, even if we +had nothing else of the man about us, and this was an asset. Then, too, +we were girded higher, and I had so arranged matters that if it came to a +fight, I would engage Quartilla myself, Ascyltos the maid, and Giton the +girl. (While I was turning over this plan in my mind, Quartilla came to +close quarters, to receive the treatment for her ague, but having her +hopes disappointed, she flounced out in a rage and, returning in a little +while, she had us overpowered by some unknown vagabonds, and gave orders +for us to be carried away to a splendid palace.) Then our determination +gave place to astonishment, and death, sure and certain, began to obscure +the eyes of suffering. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH. + +“Pray; madame,” I groaned, “if you have anything worse in store, bring it +on quickly for we have not committed a crime so heinous as to merit death +by torture.” The maid, whose name was Psyche, quickly spread a blanket +upon the floor (and) sought to secure an erection by fondling my member, +which was already a thousand times colder than death. Ascyltos, well +aware by now of the danger of dipping into the secrets of others, covered +his head with his mantle. (In the meantime,) the maid took two ribbons +from her bosom and bound our feet with one and our hands with the other. +(Finding myself trussed up in this fashion, I remarked, “You will not be +able to cure your mistress’ ague in this manner!” “Granted,” the maid +replied, “but I have other and surer remedies at hand,” she brought me a +vessel full of satyrion, as she said this, and so cheerfully did she +gossip about its virtues that I drank down nearly all of the liquor, and +because Ascyltos had but a moment before rejected her advances, she +sprinkled the dregs upon his back, without his knowing it.) When this +repartee had drawn to a close, Ascyltos exclaimed, “Don’t I deserve a +drink?” Given away by my laughter, the maid clapped her hands and cried, +“I put one by you, young man; did you drink so much all by yourself?” + “What’s that you say?”, Quartilla chimed in. “Did Encolpius drink all +the satyrion there was in the house?” And she laughed delightfully until +her sides shook. Finally not even Giton himself could resist a smile, +especially when the little girl caught him around the neck and showered +innumerable kisses upon him, and he not at all averse to it. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST. + +We would have cried aloud in our misery but there was no one to give us +any help, and whenever I attempted to shout, “Help! all honest +citizens,” Psyche would prick my cheeks with her hairpin, and the little +girl would intimidate Ascyltos with a brush dipped in satyrion. Then a +catamite appeared, clad in a myrtle-colored frieze robe, and girded round +with a belt. One minute he nearly gored us to death with his writhing +buttocks, and the next, he befouled us so with his stinking kisses that +Quartilla, with her robe tucked high, held up her whalebone wand and +ordered him to give the unhappy wretches quarter. Both of us then took a +most solemn oath that so dread a secret should perish with us. Several +wrestling instructors appeared and refreshed us, worn out as we were, by +a massage with pure oil, and when our fatigue had abated, we again donned +our dining clothes and were escorted to the next room, in which were +placed three couches, and where all the essentials necessary to a +splendid banquet were laid out in all their richness. We took our +places, as requested, and began with a wonderful first course. We were +all but submerged in Falernian wine. When several other courses had +followed, and we were endeavoring to keep awake Quartilla exclaimed, “How +dare you think of going to sleep when you know that the vigil of Priapus +is to be kept?” + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND. + +Worn out by all his troubles, Ascyltos commenced to nod, and the maid, +whom he had slighted, and of course insulted, smeared lampblack all over +his face, and painted his lips and shoulders with vermillion, while he +drowsed. Completely exhausted by so many untoward adventures, I, too, +was enjoying the shortest of naps, the whole household, within and +without, was doing the same, some were lying here and there asleep at our +feet, others leaned against the walls, and some even slept head to head +upon the threshold itself; the lamps, failing because of a lack of oil, +shed a feeble and flickering light, when two Syrians, bent upon stealing +an amphora of wine, entered the dining-room. While they were greedily +pawing among the silver, they pulled the amphora in two, upsetting the +table with all the silver plate, and a cup, which had flown pretty high, +cut the head of the maid, who was drowsing upon a couch. She screamed at +that, thereby betraying the thieves and wakening some of the drunkards. +The Syrians, who had come for plunder, seeing that they were about to be +detected, were so quick to throw themselves down besides a couch and +commence to snore as if they had been asleep for a long time, that you +would have thought they belonged there. The butler had gotten up and +poured oil in the flickering lamps by this time, and the boys, having +rubbed their eyes open, had returned to their duty, when in came a female +cymbal player and the crashing brass awoke everybody. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD. + +The banquet began all over again, and Quartilla challenged us to a +drinking-bout, the crash of the cymbals lending ardor to her revel. +A catamite appeared, the stalest of all mankind, well worthy of that +house. Heaving a sigh, he wrung his hands until the joints cracked, +and spouted out the following verses, + + “Hither, hither quickly gather, pathic companions boon; + Artfully stretch forth your limbs and on with the dance and play! + Twinkling feet and supple thighs and agile buttocks in tune, + Hands well skilled in raising passions, Delian eunuchs gay!” + +When he had finished his poetry, he slobbered a most evil-smelling kiss +upon me, and then, climbing upon my couch, he proceeded with all his +might and main to pull all of my clothing off. I resisted to the limit +of my strength. He manipulated my member for a long time, but all in +vain. Gummy streams poured down his sweating forehead, and there was so +much chalk in the wrinkles of his cheeks that you might have mistaken his +face for a roofless wall, from which the plaster was crumbling in a rain. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH. + +Driven to the last extremity, I could no longer keep back the tears. +“Madame,” I burst out, “is this the night-cap which you ordered served to +me?” Clapping her hands softly she cried out, “Oh you witty rogue, you +are a fountain of repartee, but you never knew before that a catamite was +called a k-night-cap, now did you?” Then, fearing my companion would come +off better than I, “Madame,” I said, “I leave it to your sense of +fairness: is Ascyltos to be the only one in this dining-room who keeps +holiday?” “Fair enough,” conceded Quartilla, “let Ascyltos have his +k-night-cap too!” On hearing that, the catamite changed mounts, and, +having bestridden my comrade, nearly drove him to distraction with his +buttocks and his kisses. Giton was standing between us and splitting his +sides with laughter when Quartilla noticed him, and actuated by the +liveliest curiosity, she asked whose boy he was, and upon my answering +that he was my “brother,” “Why has he not kissed me then?” she +demanded. Calling him to her, she pressed a kiss upon his mouth, then +putting her hand beneath his robe, she took hold of his little member, as +yet so undeveloped. “This,” she remarked, “shall serve me very well +tomorrow, as a whet to my appetite, but today I’ll take no common fare +after choice fish!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH. + +She was still talking when Psyche, who was giggling, came to her side and +whispered something in her ear. What it was, I did not catch. “By all +means,” ejaculated Quartilla, “a brilliant idea! Why shouldn’t our +pretty little Pannychis lose her maidenhead when the opportunity is so +favorable?” A little girl, pretty enough, too, was led in at once; she +looked to be not over seven years of age, and she was the same one who +had before accompanied Quartilla to our room. Amidst universal applause, +and in response to the demands of all, they made ready to perform the +nuptial rites. I was completely out of countenance, and insisted that +such a modest boy as Giton was entirely unfitted for such a wanton part, +and moreover, that the child was not of an age at which she could receive +that which a woman must take. “Is that so,” Quartilla scoffed, “is she +any younger than I was, when I submitted to my first man? Juno, my +patroness, curse me if I can remember the time when I ever was a virgin, +for I diverted myself with others of my own age, as a child then as the +years passed, I played with bigger boys, until at last I reached my +present age. I suppose that this explains the origin of the proverb, +‘Who carried the calf may carry the bull,’ as they say.” As I feared +that Giton might run greater risk if I were absent, I got up to take +part in the ceremony. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH. + +Psyche had already enveloped the child’s head in the bridal-veil, the +catamite, holding a torch, led the long procession of drunken women which +followed; they were clapping their hands, having previously decked out +the bridal-bed with a suggestive drapery. Quartilla, spurred on by the +wantonness of the others, seized hold of Giton and drew him into the +bridal-chamber. There was no doubt of the boy’s perfect willingness to +go, nor was the girl at all alarmed at the name of marriage. When they +were finally in bed, and the door shut, we seated ourselves outside the +door of the bridal-chamber, and Quartilla applied a curious eye to a +chink, purposely made, watching their childish dalliance with lascivious +attention. She then drew me gently over to her side that I might share +the spectacle with her, and when we both attempted to peep our faces were +pressed against each other; whenever she was not engrossed in the +performance, she screwed up her lips to meet mine, and pecked at me +continually with furtive kisses. [A thunderous hammering was heard at +the door, while all this was going on, and everyone wondered what this +unexpected interruption could mean, when we saw a soldier, one of the +night-watch, enter with a drawn sword in his hand, and surrounded by a +crowd of young rowdies. He glared about him with savage eyes and +blustering mien, and, catching sight of Quartilla, presently, “What’s up +now, you shameless woman,” he bawled; “what do you mean by making game of +me with lying promises, and cheating me out of the night you promised me? +But you won’t get off unpunished! You and that lover of yours are going to +find out that I’m a man!” At the soldier’s orders, his companion bound +Quartilla and myself together, mouth to mouth, breast to breast, and +thigh to thigh; and not without a great deal of laughter. Then the +catamite, also at the soldier’s order, began to beslaver me all over with +the fetid kisses of his stinking mouth, a treatment I could neither fly +from, nor in any other way avoid. Finally, he ravished me, and worked +his entire pleasure upon me. In the meantime, the satyrion which I had +drunk only a little while before spurred every nerve to lust and I began +to gore Quartilla impetuously, and she, burning with the same passion, +reciprocated in the game. The rowdies laughed themselves sick, so moved +were they by that ludicrous scene, for here was I, mounted by the stalest +of catamites, involuntarily and almost unconsciously responding with as +rapid a cadence to him as Quartilla did in her wriggling under me. While +this was going on, Pannychis, unaccustomed at her tender years to the +pastime of Venus, raised an outcry and attracted the attention of the +soldier, by this unexpected howl of consternation, for this slip of a +girl was being ravished, and Giton the victor, had won a not bloodless +victory. Aroused by what he saw, the soldier rushed upon them, seizing +Pannychis, then Giton, then both of them together, in a crushing embrace. +The virgin burst into tears and plead with him to remember her age, but +her prayers availed her nothing, the soldier only being fired the more by +her childish charms. Pannychis covered her head at last, resolved to +endure whatever the Fates had in store for her. At this instant, an old +woman, the very same who had tricked me on that day when I was hunting +for our lodging, came to the aid of Pannychis, as though she had dropped +from the clouds. With loud cries, she rushed into the house, swearing +that a gang of footpads was prowling about the neighborhood and the +people invoked the help of “All honest men,” in vain, for the members of +the night-watch were either asleep or intent upon some carouse, as they +were nowhere to be found. Greatly terrified at this, the soldier rushed +headlong from Quartilla’s house. His companions followed after him, +freeing Pannychis from impending danger and relieving the rest of us from +our fear.] (I was so weary of Quartilla’s lechery that I began to +meditate means of escape. I made my intentions known to Ascyltos, who, +as he wished to rid himself of the importunities of Psyche, was +delighted; had not Giton been shut up in the bridal-chamber, the plan +would have presented no difficulties, but we wished to take him with us, +and out of the way of the viciousness of these prostitutes. We were +anxiously engaged in debating this very point, when Pannychis fell out of +bed, and dragged Giton after her, by her own weight. He was not hurt, +but the girl gave her head a slight bump, and raised such a clamor that +Quartilla, in a terrible fright, rushed headlong into the room, giving us +the opportunity of making off. We did not tarry, but flew back to our +inn where,) throwing ourselves upon the bed, we passed the remainder of +the night without fear. (Sallying forth next day, we came upon two of +our kidnappers, one of whom Ascyltos savagely attacked the moment he set +eyes upon him, and, after having thrashed and seriously wounded him, +he ran to my aid against the other. He defended himself so stoutly, +however, that he wounded us both, slightly, and escaped unscathed.) The +third day had now dawned, the date set for the free dinner (at +Trimalchio’s,) but battered as we were, flight seemed more to our taste +than quiet, so (we hastened to our inn and, as our wounds turned out to +be trifling, we dressed them with vinegar and oil, and went to bed. The +ruffian whom we had done for, was still lying upon the ground and we +feared detection.) Affairs were at this pass, and we were framing +melancholy excuses with which to evade the coming revel, when a slave of +Agamemnon’s burst in upon our trembling conclave and said, “Don’t you +know with whom your engagement is today? The exquisite Trimalchio, who +keeps a clock and a liveried bugler in his dining-room, so that he can +tell, instantly, how much of his life has run out!” Forgetting all our +troubles at that, we dressed hurriedly and ordered Giton, who had very +willingly performed his servile office, to follow us to the bath. + + + +ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + +Boys play in the schools, the young men are laughed at +Deferred pleasures are a long time coming +Egyptians “commercialized” that incomparable art +Errors committed in the name of religion +Everything including the children, is devoted to ambition +Laughed ourselves out of a most disgraceful quarrel +No one will confess the errors he was taught in his school days +Priests, animated by an hypocritical mania for prophecy +See or hear nothing at all of the affairs of every-day life +The teachers, who must gibber with lunatics +They secure their ends, save by setting snares for the ears + + + + + +VOLUME 2.--THE DINNER OF TRIMALCHIO + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH. + +Having put on our clothes, in the meantime, we commenced to stroll around +and soon, the better to amuse ourselves, approached the circle of +players; all of a sudden we caught sight of a bald-headed old fellow, +rigged out in a russet colored tunic, playing ball with some long haired +boys. It was not so much the boys who attracted our attention, although +they might well have merited it, as it was the spectacle afforded by this +beslippered paterfamilias playing with a green ball. If one but touched +the ground, he never stooped for it to put it back in play; for a slave +stood by with a bagful from which the players were supplied. We noted +other innovations as well, for two eunuchs were stationed at opposite +sides of the ring, one of whom held a silver chamber-pot, the other +counted the balls; not those which bounced back and forth from hand to +hand, in play, but those which fell to the ground. While we were +marveling at this display of refinement, Menelaus rushed up, “He is the +one with whom you will rest upon your elbow,” he panted, “what you see +now, is only a prelude to the dinner.” Menelaus had scarcely ceased +speaking when Trimalchio snapped his fingers; the eunuch, hearing the +signal, held the chamber-pot for him while he still continued playing. +After relieving his bladder, he called for water to wash his hands, +barely moistened his fingers, and dried them upon a boy’s head. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH. + +To go into details would take too long. We entered the bath, finally, +and after sweating for a minute or two in the warm room, we passed +through into the cold water. But short as was the time, Trimalchio had +already been sprinkled with perfume and was being rubbed down, not with +linen towels, however, but with cloths made from the finest wool. +Meanwhile, three masseurs were guzzling Falernian under his eyes, and +when they spilled a great deal of it in their brawling, Trimalchio +declared they were pouring a libation to his Genius. He was then wrapped +in a coarse scarlet wrap-rascal, and placed in a litter. Four runners, +whose liveries were decorated with metal plates, preceded him, as also +did a wheel-chair in which rode his favorite, a withered, blear eyed +slave, even more repulsive looking than his master. A singing boy +approached the head of his litter, as he was being carried along, and +played upon small pipes the whole way, just as if he were communicating +some secret to his master’s ear. Marveling greatly, we followed, and met +Agamemnon at the outer door, to the post of which was fastened a small +tablet bearing this inscription: + + NO SLAVE TO LEAVE THE PREMISES + WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE MASTER. + PENALTY ONE HUNDRED LASHES. + +In the vestibule stood the porter, clad in green and girded with a +cherry-colored belt, shelling peas into a silver dish. Above the +threshold was suspended a golden cage, from which a black and white +magpie greeted the visitors. + + + + +CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH. + +I almost fell backwards and broke my legs while staring at all this, for +to the left, as we entered, not far from the porter’s alcove, an enormous +dog upon a chain was painted upon the wall, and above him this +inscription, in capitals: + + BEWARE THE DOG. + +My companions laughed, but I plucked up my courage and did not hesitate, +but went on and examined the entire wall. There was a scene in a slave +market, the tablets hanging from the slaves’ necks, and Trimalchio +himself, wearing his hair long, holding a caduceus in his hand, entering +Rome, led by the hand of Minerva. Then again the painstaking artist had +depicted him casting up accounts, and still again, being appointed +steward; everything being explained by inscriptions. Where the walls +gave way to the portico, Mercury was shown lifting him up by the chin, +to a tribunal placed on high. Near by stood Fortune with her horn of +plenty, and the three Fates, spinning golden flax. I also took note of a +group of runners, in the portico, taking their exercise under the eye of +an instructor, and in one corner was a large cabinet, in which was a very +small shrine containing silver Lares, a marble Venus, and a golden casket +by no means small, which held, so they told us, the first shavings of +Trimalchio’s beard. I asked the hall-porter what pictures were in the +middle hall. “The Iliad and the Odyssey,” he replied, “and the +gladiatorial games given under Laenas.” There was no time in which to +examine them all. + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH. + +We had now come to the dining-room, at the entrance to which sat a +factor, receiving accounts, and, what gave me cause for astonishment, +rods and axes were fixed to the door-posts, superimposed, as it were, +upon the bronze beak of a ship, whereon was inscribed: + + TO GAIUS POMPEIUS TRIMALCHIO + AUGUSTAL, SEVIR + FROM CINNAMUS HIS + STEWARD. + +A double lamp, suspended from the ceiling, hung beneath the inscription, +and a tablet was fixed to each door-post; one, if my memory serves me, +was inscribed, + + ON DECEMBER THIRTIETH AND + THIRTY FIRST + OUR + GAIUS DINES OUT + +the other bore a painting of the moon in her phases, and the seven +planets, and the days which were lucky and those which were unlucky, +distinguished by distinctive studs. We had had enough of these novelties +and started to enter the dining-room when a slave, detailed to this duty, +cried out, “Right foot first.” Naturally, we were afraid that some of us +might break some rule of conduct and cross the threshold the wrong way; +nevertheless, we started out, stepping off together with the right foot, +when all of a sudden, a slave who had been stripped, threw himself at our +feet, and commenced begging us to save him from punishment, as it was no +serious offense for which he was in jeopardy; the steward’s clothing had +been stolen from him in the baths, and the whole value could scarcely +amount to ten sesterces. So we drew back our right feet and intervened +with the steward, who was counting gold pieces in the hall, begging him +to remit the slave’s punishment. Putting a haughty face on the matter, +“It’s not the loss I mind so much,” he said, “as it is the carelessness +of this worthless rascal. He lost my dinner clothes, given me on my +birthday they were, by a certain client, Tyrian purple too, but it had +been washed once already. But what does it amount to? I make you a +present of the scoundrel!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST. + +We felt deeply obligated by his great condescension, and the same +slave for whom we had interceded, rushed up to us as we entered the +dining-room, and to our astonishment, kissed us thick and fast, voicing +his thanks for our kindness. “You’ll know in a minute whom you did a +favor for,” he confided, “the master’s wine is the thanks of a grateful +butler!” At length we reclined, and slave boys from Alexandria poured +water cooled with snow upon our hands, while others following, attended +to our feet and removed the hangnails with wonderful dexterity, nor were +they silent even during this disagreeable operation, but they all kept +singing at their work. I was desirous of finding out whether the whole +household could sing, so I ordered a drink; a boy near at hand instantly +repeated my order in a singsong voice fully as shrill, and whichever one +you accosted did the same. You would not imagine that this was the +dining-room of a private gentleman, but rather that it was an exhibition +of pantomimes. A very inviting relish was brought on, for by now all the +couches were occupied save only that of Trimalchio, for whom, after a new +custom, the chief place was reserved. + +On the tray stood a donkey made of Corinthian bronze, bearing panniers +containing olives, white in one and black in the other. Two platters +flanked the figure, on the margins of which were engraved Trimalchio’s +name and the weight of the silver in each. Dormice sprinkled with +poppy-seed and honey were served on little bridges soldered fast to the +platter, and hot sausages on a silver gridiron, underneath which were +damson plums and pomegranate seeds. + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SECOND. + +We were in the midst of these delicacies when, to the sound of music, +Trimalchio himself was carried in and bolstered up in a nest of small +cushions, which forced a snicker from the less wary. A shaven poll +protruded from a scarlet mantle, and around his neck, already muffled +with heavy clothing, he had tucked a napkin having a broad purple stripe +and a fringe that hung down all around. On the little finger of his left +hand he wore a massive gilt ring, and on the first joint of the next +finger, a smaller one which seemed to me to be of pure gold, but as a +matter of fact it had iron stars soldered on all around it. And then, +for fear all of his finery would not be displayed, he bared his right +arm, adorned with a golden arm-band and an ivory circlet clasped with a +plate of shining metal. + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-THIRD. + +Picking his teeth with a silver quill, “Friends,” said he, “it was not +convenient for me to come into the dining-room just yet, but for fear my +absence should cause you any inconvenience, I gave over my own pleasure: +permit me, however, to finish my game.” A slave followed with a +terebinth table and crystal dice, and I noted one piece of luxury that +was superlative; for instead of black and white pieces, he used gold and +silver coins. He kept up a continual flow of various coarse expressions. +We were still dallying with the relishes when a tray was brought in, on +which was a basket containing a wooden hen with her wings rounded and +spread out as if she were brooding. Two slaves instantly approached, and +to the accompaniment of music, commenced to feel around in the straw. +They pulled out some pea-hen’s eggs, which they distributed among the +diners. Turning his head, Trimalchio saw what was going on. “Friends,” + he remarked. “I ordered pea-hen’s eggs set under the hen, but I’m afraid +they’re addled, by Hercules I am let’s try them anyhow, and see if +they’re still fit to suck.” We picked up our spoons, each of which +weighed not less than half a pound, and punctured the shells, which were +made of flour and dough, and as a matter of fact, I very nearly threw +mine away for it seemed to me that a chick had formed already, but upon +hearing an old experienced guest vow, “There must be something good +here,” I broke open the shell with my hand and discovered a fine fat +fig-pecker, imbedded in a yolk seasoned with pepper. + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH. + +Having finished his game, Trimalchio was served with a helping of +everything and was announcing in a loud voice his willingness to join +anyone in a second cup of honied wine, when, to a flourish of music, the +relishes were suddenly whisked away by a singing chorus, but a small dish +happened to fall to the floor, in the scurry, and a slave picked it up. +Seeing this, Trimalchio ordered that the boy be punished by a box on the +ear, and made him throw it down again; a janitor followed with his broom +and swept the silver dish away among the litter. Next followed two +long-haired Ethiopians, carrying small leather bottles, such as are +commonly seen in the hands of those who sprinkle sand in the arena, and +poured wine upon our hands, for no one offered us water. When +complimented upon these elegant extras, the host cried out, “Mars loves +a fair fight: and so I ordered each one a separate table: that way these +stinking slaves won’t make us so hot with their crowding.” Some glass +bottles carefully sealed with gypsum were brought in at that instant; a +label bearing this inscription was fastened to the neck of each one: + + OPIMIAN FALERNIAN + ONE HUNDRED YEARS OLD. + +While we were studying the labels, Trimalchio clapped his hands and +cried, “Ah me! To think that wine lives longer than poor little man. +Let’s fill ‘em up! There’s life in wine and this is the real Opimian, +you can take my word for that. I offered no such vintage yesterday, +though my guests were far more respectable.” We were tippling away and +extolling all these elegant devices, when a slave brought in a silver +skeleton, so contrived that the joints and movable vertebra could be +turned in any direction. He threw it down upon the table a time or two, +and its mobile articulation caused it to assume grotesque attitudes, +whereupon Trimalchio chimed in: + + “Poor man is nothing in the scheme of things + And Orcus grips us and to Hades flings + Our bones! This skeleton before us here + Is as important as we ever were! + Let’s live then while we may and life is dear.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH. + +The applause was followed by a course which, by its oddity, drew every +eye, but it did not come up to our expectations. There was a circular +tray around which were displayed the signs of the zodiac, and upon each +sign the caterer had placed the food best in keeping with it. Ram’s +vetches on Aries, a piece of beef on Taurus, kidneys and lamb’s fry on +Gemini, a crown on Cancer, the womb of an unfarrowed sow on Virgo, an +African fig on Leo, on Libra a balance, one pan of which held a tart and +the other a cake, a small seafish on Scorpio, a bull’s eye on +Sagittarius, a sea lobster on Capricornus, a goose on Aquarius and two +mullets on Pisces. In the middle lay a piece of cut sod upon which +rested a honeycomb with the grass arranged around it. An Egyptian slave +passed bread around from a silver oven and in a most discordant voice +twisted out a song in the manner of the mime in the musical farce called +Laserpitium. Seeing that we were rather depressed at the prospect of +busying ourselves with such vile fare, Trimalchio urged us to fall to: +“Let us fall to, gentlemen, I beg of you, this is only the sauce!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH. + +While he was speaking, four dancers ran in to the time of the music, +and removed the upper part of the tray. Beneath, on what seemed to be +another tray, we caught sight of stuffed capons and sows’ bellies, and in +the middle, a hare equipped with wings to resemble Pegasus. At the +corners of the tray we also noted four figures of Marsyas and from their +bladders spouted a highly spiced sauce upon fish which were swimming +about as if in a tide-race. All of us echoed the applause which was +started by the servants, and fell to upon these exquisite delicacies, +with a laugh. “Carver,” cried Trimalchio, no less delighted with the +artifice practised upon us, and the carver appeared immediately. Timing +his strokes to the beat of the music he cut up the meat in such a fashion +as to lead you to think that a gladiator was fighting from a chariot to +the accompaniment of a water-organ. Every now and then Trimalchio would +repeat “Carver, Carver,” in a low voice, until I finally came to the +conclusion that some joke was meant in repeating a word so frequently, so +I did not scruple to question him who reclined above me. As he had often +experienced byplay of this sort he explained, “You see that fellow who is +carving the meat, don’t you? Well, his name is Carver. Whenever +Trimalchio says Carver, carve her, by the same word, he both calls and +commands!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH. + +I could eat no more, so I turned to my whilom informant to learn as much +as I could and sought to draw him out with far-fetched gossip. I +inquired who that woman could be who was scurrying about hither and yon +in such a fashion. “She’s called Fortunata,” he replied. “She’s the +wife of Trimalchio, and she measures her money by the peck. And only a +little while ago, what was she! May your genius pardon me, but you would +not have been willing to take a crust of bread from her hand. Now, +without rhyme or reason, she’s in the seventh heaven and is Trimalchio’s +factotum, so much so that he would believe her if she told him it was +dark when it was broad daylight! As for him, he don’t know how rich he +is, but this harlot keeps an eye on everything and where you least expect +to find her, you’re sure to run into her. She’s temperate, sober, full +of good advice, and has many good qualities, but she has a scolding +tongue, a very magpie on a sofa, those she likes, she likes, but those +she dislikes, she dislikes! Trimalchio himself has estates as broad as +the flight of a kite is long, and piles of money. There’s more silver +plate lying in his steward’s office than other men have in their whole +fortunes! And as for slaves, damn me if I believe a tenth of them knows +the master by sight. The truth is, that these stand-a-gapes are so much +in awe of him that any one of them would step into a fresh dunghill +without ever knowing it, at a mere nod from him!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-EIGHTH. + +“And don’t you get the idea that he buys anything; everything is produced +at home, wool, pitch, pepper, if you asked for hen’s milk you would get +it. Because he wanted his wool to rival other things in quality, he +bought rams at Tarentum and sent ‘em into his flocks with a slap on the +arse. He had bees brought from Attica, so he could produce Attic honey +at home, and, as a side issue, so he could improve the native bees by +crossing with the Greek. He even wrote to India for mushroom seed one +day, and he hasn’t a single mule that wasn’t sired by a wild ass. Do you +see all those cushions? Not a single one but what is stuffed with either +purple or scarlet wool! He hasn’t anything to worry about! Look out how +you criticise those other fellow-freedmen-friends of his, they’re all +well heeled. See the fellow reclining at the bottom of the end couch? +He’s worth his 800,000 any day, and he rose from nothing. Only a short +while ago he had to carry faggots on his own back. I don’t know how true +it is, but they say that he snatched off an Incubo’s hat and found a +treasure! For my part, I don’t envy any man anything that was given him +by a god. He still carries the marks of his box on the ear, and he isn’t +wishing himself any bad luck! He posted this notice, only the other day: + + CAIUS POMPONIUS DIOGENES HAS + PURCHASED A HOUSE + THIS GARRET FOR RENT AFTER + THE KALENDS OF JULY. + +“What do you think of the fellow in the freedman’s place? He has a good +front, too, hasn’t he? And he has a right to. He saw his fortune +multiplied tenfold, but he lost heavily through speculation at the last. +I don’t think he can call his very hair his own, and it is no fault of +his either, by Hercules, it isn’t. There’s no better fellow anywhere; his +rascally freedmen cheated him out of everything. You know very well how +it is; everybody’s business is nobody’s business, and once let business +affairs start to go wrong, your friends will stand from under! Look at +the fix he’s in, and think what a fine trade he had! He used to be an +undertaker. He dined like a king, boars roasted whole in their shaggy +Bides, bakers’ pastries, birds, cooks and bakers! More wine was spilled +under his table than another has in his wine cellar. His life was like a +pipe dream, not like an ordinary mortal’s. When his affairs commenced to +go wrong, and he was afraid his creditors would guess that he was +bankrupt, he advertised an auction and this was his placard: + + JULIUS PROCULUS WILL SELL AT + AUCTION HIS SUPERFLUOUS + FURNITURE” + + + + +CHAPTER THE THIRTY-NINTH. + +Trimalchio broke in upon this entertaining gossip, for the course had +been removed and the guests, happy with wine, had started a general +conversation: lying back upon his couch, “You ought to make this wine go +down pleasantly,” he said, “the fish must have something to swim in. But +I say, you didn’t think I’d be satisfied with any such dinner as you saw +on the top of that tray? ‘Is Ulysses no better known?’ Well, well, we +shouldn’t forget our culture, even at dinner. May the bones of my patron +rest in peace, he wanted me to become a man among men. No one can show +me anything new, and that little tray has proved it. This heaven where +the gods live, turns into as many different signs, and sometimes into the +Ram: therefore, whoever is born under that sign will own many flocks and +much wool, a hard head, a shameless brow, and a sharp horn. A great many +school-teachers and rambunctious butters-in are born under that sign.” + We applauded the wonderful penetration of our astrologer and he ran on, +“Then the whole heaven turns into a bull-calf and the kickers and +herdsmen and those who see to it that their own bellies are full, come +into the world. Teams of horses and oxen are born under the Twins, and +well-hung wenchers and those who bedung both sides of the wall. I was +born under the Crab and therefore stand on many legs and own much +property on land and sea, for the crab is as much at home on one as he is +in the other. For that reason, I put nothing on that sign for fear of +weighing down my own destiny. Bulldozers and gluttons are born under the +Lion, and women and fugitives and chain-gangs are born under the Virgin. +Butchers and perfumers are born under the Balance, and all who think that +it is their business to straighten things out. Poisoners and assassins +are born under the Scorpion. Cross-eyed people who look at the +vegetables and sneak away with the bacon, are born under the Archer. +Horny-handed sons of toil are born under Capricorn. Bartenders and +pumpkin-heads are born under the Water-Carrier. Caterers and +rhetoricians are born under the Fishes: and so the world turns round, +just like a mill, and something bad always comes to the top, and men are +either being born or else they’re dying. As to the sod and the honeycomb +in the middle, for I never do anything without a reason, Mother Earth is +in the centre, round as an egg, and all that is good is found in her, +just like it is in a honeycomb.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTIETH. + +“Bravo!” we yelled, and, with hands uplifted to the ceiling, we swore +that such fellows as Hipparchus and Aratus were not to be compared with +him. At length some slaves came in who spread upon the couches some +coverlets upon which were embroidered nets and hunters stalking their +game with boar-spears, and all the paraphernalia of the chase. We knew +not what to look for next, until a hideous uproar commenced, just outside +the dining-room door, and some Spartan hounds commenced to run around the +table all of a sudden. A tray followed them, upon which was served a +wild boar of immense size, wearing a liberty cap upon its head, and from +its tusks hung two little baskets of woven palm fibre, one of which +contained Syrian dates, the other, Theban. Around it hung little +suckling pigs made from pastry, signifying that this was a brood-sow with +her pigs at suck. It turned out that these were souvenirs intended to be +taken home. When it came to carving the boar, our old friend Carver, who +had carved the capons, did not appear, but in his place a great bearded +giant, with bands around his legs, and wearing a short hunting cape in +which a design was woven. Drawing his hunting-knife, he plunged it +fiercely into the boar’s side, and some thrushes flew out of the gash. +fowlers, ready with their rods, caught them in a moment, as they +fluttered around the room and Trimalchio ordered one to each guest, +remarking, “Notice what fine acorns this forest-bred boar fed on,” and as +he spoke, some slaves removed the little baskets from the tusks and +divided the Syrian and Theban dates equally among the diners. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIRST. + +Getting a moment to myself, in the meantime, I began to speculate as to +why the boar had come with a liberty cap upon his head. After exhausting +my invention with a thousand foolish guesses, I made bold to put the +riddle which teased me to my old informant. “Why, sure,” he replied, +“even your slave could explain that; there’s no riddle, everything’s as +plain as day! This boar made his first bow as the last course of +yesterday’s dinner and was dismissed by the guests, so today he comes +back as a freedman!” I damned my stupidity and refrained from asking any +more questions for fear I might leave the impression that I had never +dined among decent people before. While we were speaking, a handsome +boy, crowned with vine leaves and ivy, passed grapes around, in a little +basket, and impersonated Bacchus-happy, Bacchus-drunk, and +Bacchus-dreaming, reciting, in the meantime, his master’s verses, in a +shrill voice. Trimalchio turned to him and said, “Dionisus, be thou +Liber,” whereupon the boy immediately snatched the cap from the boar’s +head, and put it upon his own. At that Trimalchio added, “You can’t +deny that my father’s middle name was Liber!” We applauded Trimalchio’s +conceit heartily, and kissed the boy as he went around. Trimalchio +retired to the close-stool, after this course, and we, having freedom of +action with the tyrant away, began to draw the other guests out. After +calling for a bowl of wine, Dama spoke up, “A day’s nothing at all: it’s +night before you can turn around, so you can’t do better than to go +right to the dining-room from your bed. It’s been so cold that I can +hardly get warm in a bath, but a hot drink’s as good as an overcoat: +I’ve had some long pegs, and between you and me, I’m a bit groggy; the +booze has gone to my head.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-SECOND. + +Here Seleucus took up the tale. “I don’t bathe every day,” he confided, +“a bath uses you up like a fuller: water’s got teeth and your strength +wastes away a little every day; but when I’ve downed a pot of mead, I +tell the cold to suck my cock! I couldn’t bathe today anyway, because I +was at a funeral; dandy fellow, he was too, good old Chrysanthus slipped +his wind! Why, only the other day he said good morning’ to me, and I +almost think I’m talking to him now! Gawd’s truth, we’re only blown-up +bladders strutting around, we’re less than flies, for they have some good +in them, but we’re only bubbles. And supposing he had not kept to such a +low diet! Why, not a drop of water or a crumb of bread so much as passed +his lips for five days; and yet he joined the majority! Too many doctors +did away with him, or rather, his time had come, for a doctor’s not good +for anything except for a consolation to your mind! He was well carried +out, anyhow, in the very bed he slept in during his lifetime. And he was +covered with a splendid pall: the mourning was tastefully managed; he had +freed some slaves; even though his wife was sparing with her tears: and +what if he hadn’t treated her so well! But when you come to women, women +all belong to the kite species: no one ought to waste a good turn upon +one of them; it’s just like throwing it down a well! An old love’s like +a cancer!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-THIRD. + +He was becoming very tiresome, and Phileros cried out, “Let’s think about +the living! He has what was coming to him, he lived respectably, and +respectably he died. What’s he got to kick about’? He made his pile +from an as, and would pick a quadrans out of a dunghill with his teeth, +any old time. And he grew richer and richer, of course: just like a +honeycomb. I expect that he left all of a hundred thousand, by Hercules, +I do! All in cold cash, too; but I’ve eaten dog’s tongue and must speak +the truth: he was foul-mouthed, had a ready tongue, he was a trouble +maker and no man. Now his brother was a good fellow, a friend to his +friend, free-handed, and he kept a liberal table. He picked a loser at +the start, but his first vintage set him upon his legs, for he sold his +wine at the figure he demanded, and, what made him hold his head higher +still, he came into a legacy from which he stole more than had been left +to him. Then that fool friend of yours, in a fit of anger at his +brother, willed his property away to some son-of-a-bitch or other, who +he was, I don’t know, but when a man runs away from his own kin, he has +a long way to go! And what’s more, he had some slaves who were +ear-specialists at the keyhole, and they did him a lot of harm, for a man +won’t prosper when he believes, on the spot, every tale that he hears; a +man in business, especially. Still, he had a good time as long as he +lived: for happy’s the fellow who gets the gift, not the one it was meant +for. He sure was Fortune’s son! Lead turned to gold in his hands. It’s +easy enough when everything squares up and runs on schedule. How old +would you think he was? Seventy and over, but he was as tough as horn, +carried his age well, and was as black as a crow. I knew the fellow for +years and years, and he was a lecher to the very last. I don’t believe +that even the dog in his house escaped his attentions, by Hercules, I +don’t; and what a boy-lover he was! Saw a virgin in every one he met! +Not that I blame him though, for it’s all he could take with him.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-FOURTH. + +Phileros had his say and Ganymedes exclaimed, “You gabble away about +things that don’t concern heaven or earth: and none of you cares how the +price of grain pinches. I couldn’t even get a mouthful of bread today, +by Hercules, I couldn’t. How the drought does hang on! We’ve had famine +for a year. If the damned AEdiles would only get what’s coming to them. +They graft with the bakers, scratch-my-arse-and-I’ll-scratch-yours! +That’s the way it always is, the poor devils are out of luck, but the +jaws of the capitalists are always keeping the Saturnalia. If only we +had such lion-hearted sports as we had when I first came from Asia! That +was the life! If the flour was not the very best, they would beat up +those belly-robbing grafters till they looked like Jupiter had been at +them. How well I remember Safinius; he lived near the old arch, when I +was a boy. For a man, he was one hot proposition! Wherever he went, the +ground smoked! But he was square, dependable, a friend to a friend, you +could safely play mora with him, in the dark. But how he did peel them +in the town hall: he spoke no parables, not he! He did everything +straight from the shoulder and his voice roared like a trumpet in the +forum. He never sweat nor spat. I don’t know, but I think he had a +strain of the Asiatic in him. And how civil and friendly-like he was, +in returning everyone’s greeting; called us all by name, just like he was +one of us! And so provisions were cheap as dirt in those days. The loaf +you got for an as, you couldn’t eat, not even if someone helped you, but +you see them no bigger than a bull’s eye now, and the hell of it is that +things are getting worse every day; this colony grows backwards like a +calf’s tall! Why do we have to put up with an AEdile here, who’s not +worth three Caunian figs and who thinks more of an as than of our lives? +He has a good time at home, and his daily income’s more than another +man’s fortune. I happen to know where he got a thousand gold pieces. +If we had any nuts, he’d not be so damned well pleased with himself! +Nowadays, men are lions at home and foxes abroad. What gets me is, that +I’ve already eaten my old clothes, and if this high cost of living keeps +on, I’ll have to sell my cottages! What’s going to happen to this town, +if neither gods nor men take pity on it? May I never have any luck if I +don’t believe all this comes from the gods! For no one believes that +heaven is heaven, no one keeps a fast, no one cares a hang about Jupiter: +they all shut their eyes and count up their own profits. In the old +days, the married women, in their stolas, climbed the hill in their bare +feet, pure in heart, and with their hair unbound, and prayed to Jupiter +for rain! And it would pour down in bucketfuls then or never, and they’d +all come home, wet as drowned rats. But the gods all have the gout now, +because we are not religious; and so our fields are burning up!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIFTH. + +“Don’t be so down in the mouth,” chimed in Echion, the ragman; “if it +wasn’t that it’d be something else, as the farmer said, when he lost his +spotted pig. If a thing don’t happen today, it may tomorrow. That’s the +way life jogs along. You couldn’t name a better country, by Hercules, +you couldn’t, if only the men had any brains. She’s in hot water right +now, but she ain’t the only one. We oughtn’t to be so particular; +heaven’s as far away everywhere else. If you were somewhere else, you’d +swear that pigs walked around here already roasted. Think of what’s +coming! We’ll soon have a fine gladiator show to last for three days, no +training-school pupils; most of them will be freedmen. Our Titus has a +hot head and plenty of guts and it will go to a finish. I’m well +acquainted with him, and he’ll not stand for any frame-ups. It will be +cold steel in the best style, no running away, the shambles will be in +the middle of the amphitheatre where all the crowd can see. And what’s +more, he has the coin, for he came into thirty million when his father +had the bad luck to die. He could blow in four hundred thousand and his +fortune never feel it, but his name would live forever. He has some +dwarfs already, and a woman to fight from a chariot. Then, there’s +Glyco’s steward; he was caught screwing Glyco’s wife. You’ll see some +battle between jealous husbands and favored lovers. Anyhow, that cheap +screw of a Glyco condemned his steward to the beasts and only published +his own shame. How could the slave go wrong when he only obeyed orders? +It would have been better if that she-piss-pot, for that’s all she’s fit +for, had been tossed by the bull, but a fellow has to beat the saddle +when he can’t beat the jackass. How could Glyco ever imagine that a +sprig of Hermogenes’ planting could turn out well? Why, Hermogenes could +trim the claws of a flying hawk, and no snake ever hatched out a rope +yet! And look at Glyco! He’s smoked himself out in fine shape, and as +long as he lives, he’ll carry that stain! No one but the devil himself +can wipe that out, but chickens always come home to roost. My nose tells +me that Mammaea will set out a spread: two bits apiece for me and mine! +And he’ll nick Norbanus out of his political pull if he does; you all +know that it’s to his interest to hump himself to get the best of him. +And honestly, what did that fellow ever do for us? He exhibited some two +cent gladiators that were so near dead they’d have fallen flat if you +blew your breath at them. I’ve seen better thugs sent against wild +beasts! And the cavalry he killed looked about as much like the real +thing as the horsemen on the lamps; you would have taken them for +dunghill cocks! One plug had about as much action as a jackass with a +pack-saddle; another was club-footed; and a third who had to take the +place of one that was killed, was as good as dead, and hamstrung into the +bargain. There was only one that had any pep, and he was a Thracian, but +he only fought when we egged him on. The whole crowd was flogged +afterwards. How the mob did yell ‘Lay it on!’ They were nothing but +runaways. And at that he had the nerve to say, ‘I’ve given you a show.’ +‘And I’ve applauded,’ I answered; ‘count it up and you’ll find that I +gave more than I got! One hand washes the other.’” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-SIXTH + +“Agamemnon, your looks seem to say, What’s this boresome nut trying to +hand us?’ Well, I’m talking because you, who can talk book-foolishness, +won’t. You don’t belong to our bunch, so you laugh in your sleeve at the +way us poor people talk, but we know that you’re only a fool with a lot +of learning. Well, what of it? Some day I’ll get you to come to my +country place and take a look at my little estate. We’ll have fresh eggs +and spring chicken to chew on when we get there; it will be all right +even if the weather has kept things back this year. We’ll find enough to +satisfy us, and my kid will soon grow up to be a pupil of yours; he can +divide up to four, now, and you’ll have a little servant at your side, if +he lives. When he has a minute to himself, he never takes his eyes from +his tablets; he’s smart too, and has the right kind of stuff in him, even +if he is crazy about birds. I’ve had to kill three of his linnets +already. I told him that a weasel had gotten them, but he’s found +another hobby, now he paints all the time. He’s left the marks of his +heels on his Greek already, and is doing pretty well with his Latin, +although his master’s too easy with him; won’t make him stick to one +thing. He comes to me to get me to give him something to write when his +master don’t want to work. Then there’s another tutor, too, no scholar, +but very painstaking, though; he can teach you more than he knows +himself. He comes to the house on holidays and is always satisfied with +whatever you pay him. Some little time ago, I bought the kid some law +books; I want him to have a smattering of the law for home use. There’s +bread in that! As for literature, he’s got enough of that in him +already; if he begins to kick, I’ve concluded that I’ll make him learn +some trade; the barber’s, say, or the auctioneer’s, or even the lawyer’s. +That’s one thing no one but the devil can do him out of! ‘Believe what +your daddy says, Primigenius,’ I din into his ears every day, ‘whenever +you learn a thing, it’s yours. Look at Phileros the attorney; he’d not +be keeping the wolf from the door now if he hadn’t studied. It’s not +long since he had to carry his wares on his back and peddle them, but he +can put up a front with Norbanus himself now! Learning’s a fine thing, +and a trade won’t starve.’” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-SEVENTH. + +Twaddle of this sort was being bandied about when Trimalchio came in; +mopping his forehead and washing his hands in perfume, he said, after a +short pause, “Pardon me, gentlemen, but my stomach’s been on strike for +the past few days and the doctors disagreed about the cause. But +pomegranate rind and pitch steeped in vinegar have helped me, and I hope +that my belly will get on its good behavior, for sometimes there’s such a +rumbling in my guts that you’d think a bellowing bull was in there. So +if anyone wants to do his business, there’s no call to be bashful about +it. None of us was born solid! I don’t know of any worse torment than +having to hold it in, it’s the one thing Jupiter himself can’t hold in. +So you’re laughing, are you, Fortunata? Why, you’re always keeping me +awake at night yourself. I never objected yet to anyone in my +dining-room relieving himself when he wanted to, and the doctors forbid +our holding it in. Everything’s ready outside, if the call’s more +serious, water, close-stool, and anything else you’ll need. Believe me, +when this rising vapor gets to the brain, it puts the whole body on the +burn. Many a one I’ve known to kick in just because he wouldn’t own up +to the truth.” We thanked him for his kindness and consideration, and +hid our laughter by drinking more and oftener. We had not realized that, +as yet, we were only in the middle of the entertainment, with a hill +still ahead, as the saying goes. The tables were cleared off to the beat +of music, and three white hogs, muzzled, and wearing bells, were brought +into the dining-room. The announcer informed us that one was a +two-year-old, another three, and the third just turned six. I had an +idea that some rope-dancers had come in and that the hogs would perform +tricks, just as they do for the crowd on the streets, but Trimalchio +dispelled this illusion by asking, “Which one will you have served up +immediately, for dinner? Any country cook can manage a dunghill cock, a +pentheus hash, or little things like that, but my cooks are well used to +serving up calves boiled whole, in their cauldrons!” Then he ordered a +cook to be called in at once, and without awaiting our pleasure, he +directed that the oldest be butchered, and demanded in a loud voice, +“What division do you belong too?” When the fellow made answer that he +was from the fortieth, “Were you bought, or born upon my estates?” + Trimalchio continued. “Neither,” replied the cook, “I was left to you by +Pansa’s will.” “See to it that this is properly done,” Trimalchio +warned, “or I’ll have you transferred to the division of messengers!” + and the cook, bearing his master’s warning in mind, departed for the +kitchen with the next course in tow. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-EIGHTH. + +Trimalchio’s threatening face relaxed and he turned to us, “If the wine +don’t please you,” he said, “I’ll change it; you ought to do justice to +it by drinking it. I don’t have to buy it, thanks to the gods. +Everything here that makes your mouths water, was produced on one of my +country places which I’ve never yet seen, but they tell me it’s down +Terracina and Tarentum way. I’ve got a notion to add Sicily to my other +little holdings, so in case I want to go to Africa, I’ll be able to sail +along my own coasts. But tell me the subject of your speech today, +Agamemnon, for, though I don’t plead cases myself, I studied literature +for home use, and for fear you should think I don’t care about learning, +let me inform you that I have three libraries, one Greek and the others +Latin. Give me the outline of your speech if you like me.” + +“A poor man and a rich man were enemies,” Agamemmon began, when: “What’s +a poor man?” Trimalchio broke in. “Well put,” Agamemnon conceded and +went into details upon some problem or other, what it was I do not know. +Trimalchio instantly rendered the following verdict, “If that’s the case, +there’s nothing to dispute about; if it’s not the case, it don’t amount +to anything anyhow.” These flashes of wit, and others equally +scintillating, we loudly applauded, and he went on: “Tell me, my dearest +Agamemnon, do you remember the twelve labors of Hercules or the story of +Ulysses, how the Cyclops threw his thumb out of joint with a pig-headed +crowbar? When I was a boy, I used to read those stories in Homer. And +then, there’s the Sibyl: with my own eyes I saw her, at Cumae, hanging up +in a jar; and whenever the boys would say to her ‘Sibyl, Sibyl, what +would you?’ she would answer, ‘I would die.’” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FORTY-NINTH. + +Before he had run out of wind, a tray upon which was an enormous hog was +placed upon the table, almost filling it up. We began to wonder at the +dispatch with which it had been prepared and swore that no cock could +have been served up in so short a time; moreover, this hog seemed to us +far bigger than the boar had been. Trimalchio scrutinized it closely and +“What the hell,” he suddenly bawled out, “this hog hain’t been gutted, +has it? No, it hain’t, by Hercules, it hain’t! Call that cook! Call +that cook in here immediately!” When the crestfallen cook stood at the +table and owned up that he had forgotten to bowel him, “So you forgot, +did you?” Trimalchio shouted, “You’d think he’d only left out a bit of +pepper and cummin, wouldn’t you? Off with his clothes!” The cook was +stripped without delay, and stood with hanging head, between two +torturers. We all began to make excuses for him at this, saying, “Little +things like that are bound to happen once in a while, let us prevail upon +you to let him off; if he ever does such a thing again, not a one of us +will have a word to say in his behalf.” But for my part, I was +mercilessly angry and could not help leaning over towards Agamemnon and +whispering in his ear, “It is easily seen that this fellow is criminally +careless, is it not? How could anyone forget to draw a hog? If he had +served me a fish in that fashion I wouldn’t overlook it, by Hercules, I +wouldn’t.” But that was not Trimalchio’s way: his face relaxed into good +humor and he said, “Since your memory’s so short, you can gut him right +here before our eyes!” The cook put on his tunic, snatched up a carving +knife, with a trembling hand, and slashed the hog’s belly in several +places. Sausages and meat-puddings, widening the apertures, by their +own weight, immediately tumbled out. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTIETH. + +The whole household burst into unanimous applause at this; “Hurrah for +Gaius,” they shouted. As for the cook, he was given a drink and a silver +crown and a cup on a salver of Corinthian bronze. Seeing that Agamemnon +was eyeing the platter closely, Trimalchio remarked, “I’m the only one +that can show the real Corinthian!” I thought that, in his usual +purse-proud manner, he was going to boast that his bronzes were all +imported from Corinth, but he did even better by saying, “Wouldn’t you +like to know how it is that I’m the only one that can show the real +Corinthian? Well, it’s because the bronze worker I patronize is named +Corinthus, and what’s Corinthian unless it’s what a Corinthus makes? +And, so you won’t think I’m a blockhead, I’m going to show you that I’m +well acquainted with how Corinthian first came into the world. When Troy +was taken, Hannibal, who was a very foxy fellow and a great rascal into +the bargain, piled all the gold and silver and bronze statues in one pile +and set ‘em afire, melting these different metals into one: then the +metal workers took their pick and made bowls and dessert dishes and +statuettes as well. That’s how Corinthian was born; neither one nor the +other, but an amalgam of all. But I prefer glass, if you don’t mind my +saying so; it don’t stink, and if it didn’t break, I’d rather have it +than gold, but it’s cheap and common now.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FIRST. + +“But there was an artisan, once upon a time, who made a glass vial that +couldn’t be broken. On that account he was admitted to Caesar with his +gift; then he dashed it upon the floor, when Caesar handed it back to +him. The Emperor was greatly startled, but the artisan picked the vial +up off the pavement, and it was dented, just like a brass bowl would have +been! He took a little hammer out of his tunic and beat out the dent +without any trouble. When he had done that, he thought he would soon be +in Jupiter’s heaven, and more especially when Caesar said to him, ‘Is +there anyone else who knows how to make this malleable glass? Think +now!’ And when he denied that anyone else knew the secret, Caesar +ordered his head chopped off, because if this should get out, we would +think no more of gold than we would of dirt.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SECOND. + +“And when it comes to silver, I’m a connoisseur; I have goblets as big as +wine-jars, a hundred of ‘em more or less, with engraving that shows how +Cassandra killed her sons, and the dead boys are lying so naturally that +you’d think ‘em alive. I own a thousand bowls which Mummius left to my +patron, where Daedalus is shown shutting Niobe up in the Trojan horse, +and I also have cups engraved with the gladiatorial contests of Hermeros +and Petraites: they’re all heavy, too. I wouldn’t sell my taste in these +matters for any money!” A slave dropped a cup while he was running on in +this fashion. Glaring at him, Trimalchio said, “Go hang yourself, since +you’re so careless.” The boy’s lip quivered and he immediately commenced +to beg for mercy. “Why do you pray to me?” Trimalchio demanded, at +this: “I don’t intend to be harsh with you, I’m only warning you against +being so awkward.” Finally, however, we got him to give the boy a pardon +and no sooner had this been done than the slave started running around +the room crying, “Out with the water and in with the wine!” We all paid +tribute to this joke, but Agamemnon in particular, for he well knew what +strings to pull in order to secure another invitation to dinner. Tickled +by our flattery, and mellowed by the wine, Trimalchio was just about +drunk. “Why hasn’t one of you asked my Fortunata to dance?” he +demanded, “There’s no one can do a better cancan, believe me,” and he +himself raised his arms above his head and favored us with an +impersonation of Syrus the actor; the whole household chanting: + + Oh bravo + Oh bravissimo + +in chorus, and he would have danced out into the middle of the room +before us all, had not Fortunata whispered in his ear, telling him, +I suppose, that such low buffoonery was not in keeping with his dignity. +But nothing could be so changeable as his humor, for one minute he stood +in awe of Fortunata, but his natural propensities would break out the +next. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-THIRD. + +But his passion for dancing was interrupted at this stage by a +stenographer who read aloud, as if he were reading the public records, +“On the seventh of the Kalends of July, on Trimalchio’s estates near +Cumae, were born thirty boys and forty girls: five hundred pecks of wheat +were taken from the threshing floors and stored in the granaries: five +hundred oxen were put to yoke: the slave Mithridates was crucified on the +same date for cursing the genius of our master, Gaius: on said date ten +million sesterces were returned to the vaults as no sound investment +could be found: on said date, a fire broke out in the gardens at Pompeii, +said fire originating in the house of Nasta, the bailiff.” “What’s +that?” demanded Trimalchio. “When were the gardens at Pompeii bought for +me?” “Why, last year,” answered the stenographer, “for that reason the +item has not appeared in the accounts.” Trimalchio flew into a rage at +this. “If I’m not told within six months of any real estate that’s +bought for me,” he shouted, “I forbid it’s being carried to my account at +all!” Next, the edicts of his aediles were read aloud, and the wills of +some of his foresters in which Trimalchio was disinherited by a codicil, +then the names of his bailiffs, and that of a freedwoman who had been +repudiated by a night watchman, after she had been caught in bed with a +bath attendant, that of a porter banished to Baioe, a steward who was +standing trial, and lastly the report of a decision rendered in the +matter of a lawsuit, between some valets. When this was over with, some +rope dancers came in and a very boresome fool stood holding a ladder, +ordering his boy to dance from rung to rung, and finally at the top, all +this to the music of popular airs; then the boy was compelled to jump +through blazing hoops while grasping a huge wine jar with his teeth. +Trimalchio was the only one who was much impressed by these tricks, +remarking that it was a thankless calling and adding that in all the +world there were just two things which could give him acute pleasure, +rope-dancers and horn blowers; all other entertainments were nothing +but nonsense. “I bought a company of comedians,” he went on, “but I +preferred for them to put on Atellane farces, and I ordered my +flute-player to play Latin airs only.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FOURTH. + +While our noble Gaius was still talking away, the boy slipped and fell, +alighting upon Trimalchio’s arm. The whole household cried out, as did +also the guests, not that they bore such a coarse fellow any good will, +as they would gladly have seen his neck broken, but because such an +unlucky ending to the dinner might make it necessary for them to go into +mourning over a total stranger. As for Trimalchio, he groaned heavily +and bent over his arm as though it had been injured: doctors flocked +around him, and Fortunata was among the very first, her hair was +streaming and she held a cup in her hand and screamed out her grief and +unhappiness. As for the boy who had fallen, he was crawling at our feet, +imploring pardon. I was uneasy for fear his prayers would lead up to +some ridiculous theatrical climax, for I had not yet been able to forget +that cook who had forgotten to bowel that hog, and so, for this reason, I +began to scan the whole dining-room very closely, to see if an automaton +would come out through the wall; and all the more so as a slave was +beaten for having bound up his master’s bruised arm in white wool instead +of purple. Nor was my suspicion unjustified, for in place of punishment, +Trimalchio ordered that the boy be freed, so that no one could say that +so exalted a personage had been injured by a slave. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-FIFTH. + +We applauded his action and engaged in a discussion upon the instability +of human affairs, which many took sides. “A good reason,” declared +Trimalchio, “why such an occasion shouldn’t slip by without an epigram.” + He called for his tablets at once, and after racking his brains for a +little while, he got off the following: + + The unexpected will turn up; + Our whole lives Fortune bungles up. + Falernian, boy, hand round the cup. + +This epigram led up to a discussion of the poets, and for a long time, +the greatest praise was bestowed upon Mopsus the Thracian, until +Trimalchio broke in with: “Professor, I wish you’d tell me how you’d +compare Cicero and Publilius. I’m of the opinion that the first was the +more eloquent, but that the last moralizes more beautifully, for what can +excel these lines? + + Insatiable luxury crumbles the walls of war; + To satiate gluttony, peacocks in coops are brought + Arrayed in gold plumage like Babylon tapestry rich. + Numidian guinea-fowls, capons, all perish for thee: + And even the wandering stork, welcome guest that he is, + The emblem of sacred maternity, slender of leg + And gloctoring exile from winter, herald of spring, + Still, finds his last nest in the--cauldron of gluttony base. + India surrenders her pearls; and what mean they to thee? + That thy wife decked with sea-spoils adorning her breast + and her head + On the couch of a stranger lies lifting adulterous legs? + The emerald green, the glass bauble, what mean they to thee? + Or the fire of the ruby? Except that pure chastity shine + From the depth of the jewels: in garments of woven wind clad + Our brides might as well take their stand, their game + naked to stalk, + As seek it in gossamer tissue transparent as air.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SIXTH. + +“What should we say was the hardest calling, after literature?” he asked. +“That of the doctor or that of the money-changer, I would say: the +doctor, because he has to know what poor devils have got in their +insides, and when the fever’s due: but I hate them like the devil, for my +part, because they’re always ordering me on a diet of duck soup: and the +money-changer’s, because he’s got to be able to see the silver through +the copper plating. When we come to the dumb beasts, the oxen and sheep +are the hardest worked, the oxen, thanks to whose labor we have bread to +chew on, the sheep, because their wool tricks us out so fine. It’s the +greatest outrage under the sun for people to eat mutton and then wear a +tunic. Then there’s the bee: in my opinion, they’re divine insects +because they puke honey, though there are folks that claim that they +bring it from Jupiter, and that’s the reason they sting, too, for +wherever you find a sweet, you’ll find a bitter too.” He was just putting +the philosophers out of business when lottery tickets were passed around +in a cup. A slave boy assigned to that duty read aloud the names of the +souvenirs: “Silver s--ham,” a ham was brought in with some silver vinegar +cruets on top of it; “cervical”--something soft for the neck--a piece of +the cervix--neck--of a sheep was brought in; “serisapia”--after wit--“and +contumelia”--insult--we were given must wafers and an apple-melon--and a +phallus--contus--; “porri”--leeks--“and persica,” he picked up a whip and +a knife; “passeres”--sparrows” and a fly--trap,” the answer was +raisins--uva passa--and Attic honey; “cenatoria”--a dinner toga--“and +forensia”--business dress--he handed out a piece of meat--suggestive of +dinner--and a note-book--suggestive of business--; “canale”--chased by a +dog--“and pedale”--pertaining to the foot--, a hare and a slipper were +brought out; “lamphrey”--murena--“and a letter,” he held up a +mouse--mus--and a frog--rana--tied together, and a bundle of +beet--beta--the Greek letter beta--. We laughed long and loud, there +were a thousand of these jokes, more or less, which have now escaped my +memory. + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-SEVENTH. + +But Ascyltos threw off all restraint and ridiculed everything; throwing +up his hands, he laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. At last, +one of Trimalchio’s fellow-freedmen, the one who had the place next to +me, flew into a rage, “What’s the joke, sheep’s-head,” he bawled, “Don’t +our host’s swell entertainment suit you? You’re richer than he is, I +suppose, and used to dining better! As I hope the guardian spirit of +this house will be on my side, I’d have stopped his bleating long ago if +I’d been sitting next to him. He’s a peach, he is, laughing at others; +some vagabond or other from who-knows-where, some night-pad who’s not +worth his own piss: just let me piss a ring around him and he wouldn’t +know where to run to! I ain’t easy riled, no, by Hercules, I ain’t, but +worms breed in tender flesh. Look at him laugh! What the hell’s he got +to laugh at? Is his family so damned fine-haired? So you’re a Roman +knight! Well, I’m a king’s son! How’s it come that you’ve been a slave, +you’ll ask because I put myself into service because I’d rather be a +Roman citizen than a tax-paying provincial. And now I hope that my life +will be such that no one can jeer at me. I’m a man among men! I take my +stroll bareheaded and owe no man a copper cent. I never had a summons in +my life and no one ever said to me, in the forum, pay me what you owe me. +I’ve bought a few acres and saved up a few dollars and I feed twenty +bellies and a dog. I ransomed my bedfellow so no one could wipe his +hands on her bosom; a thousand dinars it cost me, too. I was chosen +priest of Augustus without paying the fee, and I hope that I won’t need +to blush in my grave after I’m dead. But you’re so busy that you can’t +look behind you; you can spot a louse on someone else, all right, but you +can’t see the tick on yourself. You’re the only one that thinks we’re so +funny; look at your professor, he’s older than you are, and we’re good +enough for him, but you’re only a brat with the milk still in your nose +and all you can prattle is ‘ma’ or ‘mu,’ you’re only a clay pot, a piece +of leather soaked in water, softer and slipperier, but none the better +for that. You’ve got more coin than we have, have you? Then eat two +breakfasts and two dinners a day. I’d rather have my reputation than +riches, for my part, and before I make an end of this--who ever dunned me +twice? In all the forty years I was in service, no one could tell +whether I was free or a slave. I was only a long-haired boy when I came +to this colony and the town house was not built then. I did my best to +please my master and he was a digniferous and majestical gentleman whose +nail-parings were worth more than your whole carcass. I had enemies in +his house, too, who would have been glad to trip me up, but I swam the +flood, thanks to his kindness. Those are the things that try your +mettle, for it’s as easy to be born a gentleman as to say, ‘Come here.’ +Well, what are you gaping at now, like a billy-goat in a vetch-field?” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-EIGHTH. + +Giton, who had been standing at my feet, and who had for some time been +holding in his laughter, burst into an uproarious guffaw, at this last +figure of speech, and when Ascyltos’ adversary heard it, he turned his +abuse upon the boy. “What’s so funny, you curly-headed onion,” he +bellowed, “are the Saturnalia here, I’d like to know? Is it December +now? + +“When did you pay your twentieth? What’s this to you, you gallows-bird, +you crow’s meat? I’ll call the anger of Jupiter down on you and that +master of yours, who don’t keep you in better order. If I didn’t respect +my fellow-freedmen, I’d give you what is coming to you right here on the +spot, as I hope to get my belly full of bread, I would. We’ll get along +well enough, but those that can’t control you are fools; like master like +man’s a true saying. I can hardly hold myself in and I’m not hot-headed +by nature, but once let me get a start and I don’t care two cents for my +own mother. All right, I’ll catch you in the street, you rat, you +toadstool. May I never grow an inch up or down if I don’t push your +master into a dunghill, and I’ll give you the same medicine, I will, by +Hercules, I will, no matter if you call down Olympian Jupiter himself! +I’ll take care of your eight inch ringlets and your two cent master into +the bargain. I’ll have my teeth into you, either you’ll cut out the +laughing, or I don’t know myself. Yes, even if you had a golden beard. +I’ll bring the wrath of Minerva down on you and on the fellow that first +made a come-here out of you. No, I never learned geometry or criticism +or other foolishness like that, but I know my capital letters and I can +divide any figure by a hundred, be it in asses, pounds or sesterces. +Let’s have a show-down, you and I will make a little bet, here’s my coin; +you’ll soon find out that your father’s money was wasted on your +education, even if you do know a little rhetoric. How’s this--what part +of us am I? I come far, I come wide, now guess me! I’ll give you +another. What part of us runs but never moves from its place? What part +of us grows but always grows less? But you scurry around and are as +flustered and fidgeted as a mouse in a piss-pot. Shut up and don’t annoy +your betters, who don’t even know that you’ve been born. Don’t think +that I’m impressed by those boxwood armlets that you did your mistress +out of. Occupo will back me! Let’s go into the forum and borrow money, +then you’ll see whether this iron ring means credit! Bah! A draggled +fox is a fine sight, ain’t it’? I hope I never get rich and die decently +so that the people will swear by my death, if I don’t hound you +everywhere with my toga turned inside out. And the fellow that taught +you such manners did a good job too, a chattering ape, all right, no +schoolmaster. We were better taught. ‘Is everything in its place?’ the +master would ask; go straight home and don’t stop and stare at everything +and don’t be impudent to your elders. Don’t loiter along looking in at +the shops. No second raters came out of that school. I’m what you see +me and I thank the gods it’s all due to my own cleverness.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE FIFTY-NINTH. + +Ascyltos was just starting in to answer this indictment when Trimalchio, +who was delighted with his fellow-freedman’s tirade, broke in, “Cut out +the bickering and let’s have things pleasant here. Let up on the young +fellow, Hermeros, he’s hot-blooded, so you ought to be more reasonable. +The loser’s always the winner in arguments of this kind. And as for you, +even when you were a young punk you used to go ‘Co-co co-co,’ like a hen +after a rooster, but you had no pep. Let’s get to better business and +start the fun all over again and watch the Homerists.” A troupe filed +in, immediately, and clashed spears against shields. Trimalchio sat +himself up on his cushion and intoned in Latin, from a book, while the +actors, in accordance with their conceited custom, recited their parts in +the Greek language. There came a pause, presently, and “You don’t any of +you know the plot of the skit they’re putting on, do you?” he asked, +“Diomedes and Ganymede were two brothers, and Helen was their sister; +Agamemnon ran away with her and palmed off a doe on Diana, in her place, +so Homer tells how the Trojans and Parentines fought among themselves. +Of course Agamemnon was victorious, and gave his daughter Iphigenia, to +Achilles, for a wife: This caused Ajax to go mad, and he’ll soon make the +whole thing plain to you.” The Homerists raised a shout, as soon as +Trimalchio had done speaking, and, as the whole familia stepped back, a +boiled calf with a helmet on its head was brought in on an enormous +platter. Ajax followed and rushed upon it with drawn sword, as if he +were insane, he made passes with the flat, and again with the edge, and +then, collecting the slices, he skewered them, and, much to our +astonishment, presented them to us on the point of his sword. + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTIETH. + +But we were not given long in which to admire the elegance of such +service, for all of a sudden the ceiling commenced to creak and then the +whole dining-room shook. I leaped to my feet in consternation, for fear +some rope-walker would fall down, and the rest of the company raised +their faces, wondering as much as I what new prodigy was to be announced +from on high. Then lo and behold! the ceiling panels parted and an +enormous hoop, which appeared to have been knocked off a huge cask, was +lowered from the dome above; its perimeter was hung with golden chaplets +and jars of alabaster filled with perfume. We were asked to accept these +articles as souvenirs. When my glance returned to the table, I noticed +that a dish containing cakes had been placed upon it, and in the middle +an image of Priapus, made by the baker, and he held apples of all +varieties and bunches of grapes against his breast, in the conventional +manner. We applied ourselves wholeheartedly to this dessert and our +joviality was suddenly revived by a fresh diversion, for, at the +slightest pressure, all the cakes and fruits would squirt a saffron sauce +upon us, and even spurted unpleasantly into our faces. Being convinced +that these perfumed dainties had some religious significance, we arose in +a body and shouted, “Hurrah for the Emperor, the father of his country!” + However, as we perceived that even after this act of veneration, the +others continued helping themselves, we filled our napkins with the +apples. I was especially keen on this, for I thought I could never put +enough good things into Giton’s lap. Three slaves entered, in the +meantime, dressed in white tunics well tucked up, and two of them placed +Lares with amulets hanging from their necks, upon the table, while the +third carried round a bowl of wine and cried, “May the gods be +propitious!” One was called Cerdo--business--, Trimalchio informed us, +the other Lucrio--luck--and the third Felicio--profit--and, when all the +rest had kissed a true likeness of Trimalchio, we were ashamed to pass it +by. + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-FIRST. + +After they had all wished each other sound minds and good health, +Trimalchio turned to Niceros. “You used to be better company at +dinner,” he remarked, “and I don’t know why you should be dumb today, +with never a word to say. If you wish to make me happy, tell about that +experience you had, I beg of you.” Delighted at the affability of his +friend, “I hope I lose all my luck if I’m not tickled to death at the +humor I see you in,” Niceros replied. “All right, let’s go the limit for +a good time, though I’m afraid these scholars’ll laugh at me, but I’ll +tell my tale and they can go as far as they like. What t’hell do I care +who laughs? It’s better to be laughed at than laughed down.” These +words spake the hero, and began the following tale: “We lived in a narrow +street in the house Gavilla now owns, when I was a slave. There, by the +will of the gods, I fell in love with the wife of Terentius, the +innkeeper; you knew Melissa of Tarentum, that pretty round-checked little +wench. It was no carnal passion, so hear me, Hercules, it wasn’t; I was +not in love with her physical charms. No, it was because she was such a +good sport. I never asked her for a thing and had her deny me; if she +had an as, I had half. I trusted her with everything I had and never was +done out of anything. Her husband up and died on the place, one day, so +I tried every way I could to get to her, for you know friends ought to +show up when anyone’s in a pinch.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SECOND. + +“It so happened that our master had gone to Capua to attend to some odds +and ends of business and I seized the opportunity, and persuaded a guest +of the house to accompany me as far as the fifth mile-stone. He was a +soldier, and as brave as the very devil. We set out about cock-crow, the +moon was shining as bright as midday, and came to where the tombstones +are. My man stepped aside amongst them, but I sat down, singing, and +commenced to count them up. When I looked around for my companion, he +had stripped himself and piled his clothes by the side of the road. My +heart was in my mouth, and I sat there while he pissed a ring around them +and was suddenly turned into a wolf! Now don’t think I’m joking, I +wouldn’t lie for any amount of money, but as I was saying, he commenced +to howl after he was turned into a wolf, and ran away into the forest. +I didn’t know where I was for a minute or two, then I went to his +clothes, to pick them up, and damned if they hadn’t turned to stone! Was +ever anyone nearer dead from fright than me? Then I whipped out my sword +and cut every shadow along the road to bits, till I came to the house of +my mistress. I looked like a ghost when I went in, and I nearly slipped +my wind. The sweat was pouring down my crotch, my eyes were staring, and +I could hardly be brought around. My Melissa wondered why I was out so +late. “Oh, if you’d only come sooner,” she said, “you could have helped +us: a wolf broke into the folds and attacked the sheep, bleeding them +like a butcher. But he didn’t get the laugh on me, even if he did get +away, for one of the slaves ran his neck through with a spear!” I +couldn’t keep my eyes shut any longer when I heard that, and as soon as +it grew light, I rushed back to our Gaius’ house like an innkeeper beaten +out of his bill, and when I came to the place where the clothes had been +turned into stone, there was nothing but a pool of blood! And moreover, +when I got home, my soldier was lying in bed, like an ox, and a doctor +was dressing his neck! I knew then that he was a werewolf, and after +that, I couldn’t have eaten a crumb of bread with him, no, not if you had +killed me. Others can think what they please about this, but as for me, +I hope your geniuses will all get after me if I lie.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-THIRD. + +We were all dumb with astonishment, when “I take your story for granted,” + said Trimalchio, “and if you’ll believe me, my hair stood on end, and +all the more, because I know that Niceros never talks nonsense: he’s +always level-headed, not a bit gossipy. And now I’ll tell you a +hair-raiser myself, though I’m like a jackass on a slippery pavement +compared to him. When I was a long-haired boy, for I lived a Chian life +from my youth up, my master’s minion died. He was a jewel, so hear me +Hercules, he was, perfect in every facet. While his sorrow-stricken +mother was bewailing his loss, and the rest of us were lamenting with +her, the witches suddenly commenced to screech so loud that you would +have thought a hare was being run down by the hounds! At that time, we +had a Cappadocian slave, tall, very bold, and he had muscle too; he +could hold a mad bull in the air! He wrapped a mantle around his left +arm, boldly rushed out of doors with drawn sword, and ran a woman +through the middle about here, no harm to what I touch. We heard a +scream, but as a matter of fact, for I won’t lie to you, we didn’t catch +sight of the witches themselves. Our simpleton came back presently, and +threw himself upon the bed. His whole body was black and blue, as if he +had been flogged with whips, and of course the reason of that was she +had touched him with her evil hand! We shut the door and returned to +our business, but when the mother put her arms around the body of her +son, it turned out that it was only a straw bolster, no heart, no guts, +nothing! Of course the witches had swooped down upon the lad and put +the straw changeling in his place! Believe me or not, suit yourselves, +but I say that there are women that know too much, and night-hags, too, +and they turn everything upside down! And as for the long-haired booby, +he never got back his own natural color and he died, raving mad, a few +days later.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-FOURTH. + +Though we wondered greatly, we believed none the less implicitly and, +kissing the table, we besought the night-hags to attend to their own +affairs while we were returning home from dinner. As far as I was +concerned, the lamps already seemed to burn double and the whole +dining-room was going round, when “See here, Plocamus,” Trimalchio spoke +up, “haven’t you anything to tell us? You haven’t entertained us at all, +have you? And you used to be fine company, always ready to oblige with a +recitation or a song. The gods bless us, how the green figs have +fallen!” “True for you,” the fellow answered, “since I’ve got the gout +my sporting days are over; but in the good old times when I was a young +spark, I nearly sang myself into a consumption. How I used to dance! +And take my part in a farce, or hold up my end in the barber shops! Who +could hold a candle to me except, of course, the one and only Apelles?” + He then put his hand to his mouth and hissed out some foul gibberish or +other, and said afterwards that it was Greek. Trimalchio himself then +favored us with an impersonation of a man blowing a trumpet, and when he +had finished, he looked around for his minion, whom he called Croesus, a +blear-eyed slave whose teeth were very disagreeably discolored. He was +playing with a little black bitch, disgustingly fat, wrapping her up in a +leek-green scarf and teasing her with a half-loaf of bread which he had +put on the couch; and when from sheer nausea, she refused it, he crammed +it down her throat. This sight put Trimalchio in mind of his own dog and +he ordered Scylax, “the guardian of his house and home,” to be brought +in. An enormous dog was immediately led in upon a chain and, obeying a +kick from the porter, it lay down beside the table. Thereupon Trimalchio +remarked, as he threw it a piece of white bread, “No one in all my house +loves me better than Scylax.” Enraged at Trimalchio’s praising Scylax so +warmly, the slave put the bitch down upon the floor and sicked her on to +fight. Scylax, as might have been expected from such a dog, made the +whole room ring with his hideous barking and nearly shook the life out of +the little bitch which the slave called Pearl. Nor did the uproar end in +a dog fight, a candelabrum was upset upon the table, breaking the glasses +and spattering some of the guests with hot oil. As Trimalchio did not +wish to seem concerned at the loss, he kissed the boy and ordered him to +climb upon his own back. The slave did not hesitate but, mounting his +rocking-horse, he beat Trimalchio’s shoulders with his open palms, +yelling with laughter, “Buck! Buck! How many fingers do I hold up!” + When Trimalchio had, in a measure, regained his composure, which took but +a little while, he ordered that a huge vessel be filled with mixed wine, +and that drinks be served to all the slaves sitting around our feet, +adding as an afterthought, “If anyone refuses to drink, pour it on his +head: business is business, but now’s the time for fun.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-FIFTH. + +The dainties that followed this display of affability were of such a +nature that, if any reliance is to be placed in my word, the very mention +of them makes me sick at the stomach. Instead of thrushes, fattened +chickens were served, one to each of us, and goose eggs with pastry caps +on them, which same Trimalchio earnestly entreated us to eat, informing +us that the chickens had all been boned. Just at that instant, however, +a lictor knocked at the dining-room door, and a reveler, clad in white +vestments, entered, followed by a large retinue. Startled at such pomp, +I thought that the Praetor had arrived, so I put my bare feet upon the +floor and started to get up, but Agamemnon laughed at my anxiety and +said, “Keep your seat, you idiot, it’s only Habinnas the sevir; he’s a +stone mason, and if report speaks true, he makes the finest tombstones +imaginable.” Reassured by this information, I lay back upon my couch and +watched Habinnas’ entrance with great curiosity. Already drunk and +wearing several wreaths, his forehead smeared with perfume which ran down +into his eyes, he advanced with his hands upon his wife’s shoulders, and, +seating himself in the Praetor’s place, he called for wine and hot water. +Delighted with his good humor, Trimalchio called for a larger goblet for +himself, and asked him, at the same time, how he had been entertained. +“We had everything except yourself, for my heart and soul were here, but +it was fine, it was, by Hercules. Scissa was giving a Novendial feast +for her slave, whom she freed on his death-bed, and it’s my opinion +she’ll have a large sum to split with the tax gatherers, for the dead man +was rated at 50,000, but everything went off well, even if we did have to +pour half our wine on the bones of the late lamented.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SIXTH. + +“But,” demanded Trimalchio, “what did you have for dinner’?” “I’ll tell +you if I can,” answered he, “for my memory’s so good that I often forget +my own name. Let’s see, for the first course, we had a hog, crowned with +a wine cup and garnished with cheese cakes and chicken livers cooked well +done, beets, of course, and whole-wheat bread, which I’d rather have +than white, because it puts strength into you, and when I take a crap +afterwards, I don’t have to yell. Following this, came a course of +tarts, served cold, with excellent Spanish wine poured over warm honey; +I ate several of the tarts and got the honey all over myself. Then there +were chick-peas and lupines, all the smooth-shelled nuts you wanted, and +an apple apiece, but I got away with two, and here they are, tied up in +my napkin; for I’ll have a row on my hands if I don’t bring some kind of +a present home to my favorite slave. Oh yes, my wife has just reminded +me, there was a haunch of bear-meat as a side dish, Scintilla ate some of +it without knowing what it was, and she nearly puked up her guts when she +found out. But as for me, I ate more than a pound of it, for it tasted +exactly like wild boar and, says I, if a bear eats a man, shouldn’t that +be all the more reason for a man to eat a bear? The last course was soft +cheese, new wine boiled thick, a snail apiece, a helping of tripe, liver +pate, capped eggs, turnips and mustard. But that’s enough. Pickled +olives were handed around in a wooden bowl, and some of the party +greedily snatched three handfuls, we had ham, too, but we sent it back.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-SEVENTH. + +“But why isn’t Fortunata at the table, Gaius? Tell me.” “What’s that,” + Trimalchio replied; “don’t you know her better than that? She wouldn’t +touch even a drop of water till after the silver was put away and the +leftovers divided among the slaves.” “I’m going to beat it if she don’t +take her place,” Habinnas threatened, and started to get up; and then, +at a signal, the slaves all called out together “Fortunata,” four times +or more. + +She appeared, girded round with a sash of greenish yellow, below which a +cherry-colored tunic could be seen, and she had on twisted anklets and +sandals worked in gold. Then, wiping her hands upon a handkerchief which +she wore around her neck, she seated herself upon the couch, beside +Scintilla, Habinnas’ wife, and clapping her hands and kissing her, “My +dear,” she gushed, “is it really you?” Fortunata then removed the +bracelets from her pudgy arms and held them out to the admiring +Scintilla, and by and by she took off her anklets and even her yellow +hair-net, which was twenty-four carats fine, she would have us know! +Trimalchio, who was on the watch, ordered every trinket to be brought to +him. “You see these things, don’t you?” he demanded; “they’re what +women fetter us with. That’s the way us poor suckers are done! These +ought to weigh six pounds and a half. I have an arm-band myself, that +don’t weigh a grain under ten pounds; I bought it out of Mercury’s +thousandths, too.” Finally, for fear he would seem to be lying, he +ordered the scales to be brought in and carried around to prove the +weights. And Scintilla was no better. She took off a small golden +vanity case which she wore around her neck, and which she called her +Lucky Box, and took from it two eardrops, which, in her turn, she handed +to Fortunata to be inspected. “Thanks to the generosity of my husband,” + she smirked, “no woman has better.” “What’s that?” Habinnas demanded. +“You kept on my trail to buy that glass bean for you; if I had a +daughter, I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t cut off her little ears. We’d +have everything as cheap as dirt if there were no women, but we have to +piss hot and drink cold, the way things are now.” The women, angry +though they were, were laughing together, in the meantime, and exchanging +drunken kisses, the one running on about her diligence as a housekeeper, +and the other about the infidelities and neglect of her husband. +Habinnas got up stealthily, while they were clinging together in this +fashion and, seizing Fortunata by the feet, he tipped her over backwards +upon the couch. “Let go!” she screeched, as her tunic slipped above her +knees; then, after pulling down her clothing, she threw herself into +Scintilla’s lap, and hid, with her handkerchief, a face which was none +the more beautiful for its blushes. + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-EIGHTH. + +After a short interval, Trimalchio gave orders for the dessert to be +served, whereupon the slaves took away all the tables and brought in +others, and sprinkled the floor with sawdust mixed with saffron and +vermilion, and also with powdered mica, a thing I had never seen done +before. When all this was done Trimalchio remarked, “I could rest +content with this course, for you have your second tables, but, if you’ve +something especially nice, why bring it on.” Meanwhile an Alexandrian +slave boy, who had been serving hot water, commenced to imitate a +nightingale, and when Trimalchio presently called out, “Change your +tune,” we had another surprise, for a slave, sitting at Habinnas’ feet, +egged on, I have no doubt, by his own master, bawled suddenly in a +singsong voice, “Meanwhile AEneas and all of his fleet held his course on +the billowy deep”; never before had my ears been assailed by a sound so +discordant, for in addition to his barbarous pronunciation, and the +raising and lowering of his voice, he interpolated Atellane verses, and, +for the first time in my life, Virgil grated on my nerves. When he had +to quit, finally, from sheer want of breath, “Did he ever have any +training,” Habinnas exclaimed, “no, not he! I educated him by sending +him among the grafters at the fair, so when it comes to taking off a +barker or a mule driver, there’s not his equal, and the rogue’s clever, +too, he’s a shoemaker, or a cook, or a baker a regular jack of all +trades. But he has two faults, and if he didn’t have them, he’d be +beyond all price: he snores and he’s been circumcised. And that’s the +reason he never can keep his mouth shut and always has an eye open. I +paid three hundred dinars for him.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SIXTY-NINTH. + +“Yes,” Scintilla broke in, “and you’ve not mentioned all of his +accomplishments either; he’s a pimp too, and I’m going to see that he’s +branded,” she snapped. Trimalchio laughed. “There’s where the +Cappadocian comes out,” he said; “never cheats himself out of anything +and I admire him for it, so help me Hercules, I do. No one can show a +dead man a good time. Don’t be jealous, Scintilla; we’re next to you +women, too, believe me. As sure as you see me here safe and sound, I +used to play at thrust and parry with Mamma, my mistress, and finally +even my master got suspicious and sent me back to a stewardship; but keep +quiet, tongue, and I’ll give you a cake.” Taking all this as praise, the +wretched slave pulled a small earthen lamp from a fold in his garment, +and impersonated a trumpeter for half an hour or more, while Habinnas +hummed with him, holding his finger pressed to his lips. Finally, the +slave stepped out into the middle of the floor and waved his pipes in +imitation of a flute-player; then, with a whip and a smock, he enacted +the part of a mule-driver. At last Habinnas called him over and kissed +him and said, as he poured a drink for him, “You get better all the time, +Massa. I’m going to give you a pair of shoes.” Had not the dessert been +brought in, we would never have gotten to the end of these stupidities. +Thrushes made of pastry and stuffed with nuts and raisins, quinces with +spines sticking out so that they looked like sea-urchins. All this would +have been endurable enough had it not been for the last dish that was +served; so revolting was this, that we would rather have died of +starvation than to have even touched it. We thought that a fat goose, +flanked with fish and all kinds of birds, had been served, until +Trimalchio spoke up. “Everything you see here, my friends,” said he, +“was made from the same stuff.” With my usual keen insight, I jumped to +the conclusion that I knew what that stuff was and, turning to Agamemnon, +I said, “I shall be greatly surprised, if all those things are not made +out of excrement, or out of mud, at the very least: I saw a like artifice +practiced at Rome during the Saturnalia.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTIETH. + +I had not done speaking, when Trimalchio chimed in, “As I hope to grow +fatter in fortune but not in figure, my cook has made all this out of a +hog! It would be simply impossible to meet up with a more valuable +fellow: he’d make you a fish out of a sow’s coynte, if that’s what you +wanted, a pigeon out of her lard, a turtle-dove out of her ham, and a hen +out of a knuckle of pork: that’s why I named him Daedalus, in a happy +moment. I brought him a present of knives, from Rome, because he’s so +smart; they’re made of Noric steel, too.” He ordered them brought in +immediately, and looked them over, with admiration, even giving us the +chance to try their edges upon our cheeks. Then all of a sudden two +slaves came in, carrying on as if they had been fighting at the fountain, +at least; each one had a water-jar hanging from a yoke around his neck. +Trimalchio arbitrated their difference, but neither would abide by his +decision, and each one smashed the other’s jar with a club. Perturbed at +the insolence of these drunken ruffians, we watched both of them +narrowly, while they were fighting, and then, what should come pouring +out of the broken jars but oysters and scallops, which a slave picked up +and passed around in a dish. The resourceful cook would not permit +himself to be outdone by such refinements, but served us with snails on a +silver gridiron, and sang continually in a tremulous and very discordant +voice. I am ashamed to have to relate what followed, for, contrary to +all convention, some long-haired boys brought in unguents in a silver +basin and anointed the feet of the reclining guests; but before doing +this, however, they bound our thighs and ankles with garlands of flowers. +They then perfumed the wine-mixing vessel with the same unguent and +poured some of the melted liquid into the lamps. Fortunata had, by this +time, taken a notion that she wanted to dance, and Scintilla was doing +more hand-clapping than talking, when Trimalchio called out, +“Philargyrus, and you too, Carrio, you can both come to the table; +even if you are green faction fans, and tell your bedfellow, Menophila, +to come too.” What would you think happened then? We were nearly +crowded off the couches by the mob of slaves that crowded into the +dining-room and almost filled it full. As a matter of fact, I noticed +that our friend the cook, who had made a goose out of a hog, was placed +next to me, and he stunk from sauces and pickle. Not satisfied with a +place at the table, he immediately staged an impersonation of Ephesus the +tragedian, and then he suddenly offered to bet his master that the greens +would take first place in the next circus games. + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FIRST. + +Trimalchio was hugely tickled at this challenge. “Slaves are men, my +friends,” he observed, “but that’s not all, they sucked the same milk +that we did, even if hard luck has kept them down; and they’ll drink the +water of freedom if I live: to make a long story short, I’m freeing all +of them in my will. To Philargyrus, I’m leaving a farm, and his +bedfellow, too. Carrio will get a tenement house and his twentieth, +and a bed and bedclothes to boot. I’m making Fortunata my heir and I +commend her to all my friends. I announce all this in public so that my +household will love me as well now as they will when I’m dead.” They all +commenced to pay tribute to the generosity of their master, when he, +putting aside his trifling, ordered a copy of his will brought in, which +same he read aloud from beginning to end, to the groaning accompaniment +of the whole household. Then, looking at Habinnas, “What say you, my +dearest friend,” he entreated; “you’ll construct my monument in keeping +with the plans I’ve given you, won’t you? I earnestly beg that you carve +a little bitch at the feet of my statue, some wreaths and some jars of +perfume, and all of the fights of Petraites. Then I’ll be able to live +even after I’m dead, thanks to your kindness. See to it that it has a +frontage of one hundred feet and a depth of two hundred. I want fruit +trees of every kind planted around my ashes; and plenty of vines, too, +for it’s all wrong for a man to deck out his house when he’s alive, and +then have no pains taken with the one he must stay in for a longer time, +and that’s the reason I particularly desire that this notice be added: + + --THIS MONUMENT DOES NOT-- + --DESCEND TO AN HEIR-- + +“In any case, I’ll see to it through a clause in my will, that I’m not +insulted when I’m dead. And for fear the rabble comes running up into my +monument, to crap, I’ll appoint one of my freedmen custodian of my tomb. +I want you to carve ships under full sail on my monument, and me, in my +robes of office, sitting on my tribunal, five gold rings on my fingers, +pouring out coin from a sack for the people, for I gave a dinner and two +dinars for each guest, as you know. Show a banquet-hall, too, if you +can, and the people in it having a good time. On my right, you can place +a statue of Fortunata holding a dove and leading a little bitch on a +leash, and my favorite boy, and large jars sealed with gypsum, so the +wine won’t run out; show one broken and a boy crying over it. Put a +sun-dial in the middle, so that whoever looks to see what time it is must +read my name whether he wants to or not. As for the inscription, think +this over carefully, and see if you think it’s appropriate: + + HERE RESTS G POMPEIUS TRIMALCHIO + FREEDMAN OF MAECENAS DECREED + AUGUSTAL, SEVIR IN HIS ABSENCE + HE COULD HAVE BEEN A MEMBER OF + EVERY DECURIA OF ROME BUT WOULD + NOT CONSCIENTIOUS BRAVE LOYAL + HE GREW RICH FROM LITTLE AND LEFT + THIRTY MILLION SESTERCES BEHIND + HE NEVER HEARD A PHILOSOPHER + FAREWELL TRIMALCHIO + FAREWELL PASSERBY” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SECOND. + +When he had repeated these words, Trimalchio began to weep copiously, +Fortunata was crying already, and so was Habinnas, and at last, the whole +household filled the dining-room with their lamentations, just as if they +were taking part in a funeral. Even I was beginning to sniffle, when +Trimalchio said, “Let’s live while we can, since we know we’ve all got to +die. I’d rather see you all happy, anyhow, so let’s take a plunge in the +bath. You’ll never regret it. I’ll bet my life on that, it’s as hot as +a furnace!” “Fine business,” seconded Habinnas, “there’s nothing suits +me better than making two days out of one,” and he got up in his bare +feet to follow Trimalchio, who was clapping his hands. I looked at +Ascyltos. “What do you think about this?” I asked. “The very sight of a +bath will be the death of me.” “Let’s fall in with his suggestion,” he +replied, “and while they are hunting for the bath we will escape in the +crowd.” Giton led us out through the porch, when we had reached this +understanding, and we came to a door, where a dog on a chain startled us +so with his barking that Ascyltos immediately fell into the fish-pond. +As for myself, I was tipsy and had been badly frightened by a dog that +was only a painting, and when I tried to haul the swimmer out, I was +dragged into the pool myself. The porter finally came to our rescue, +quieted the dog by his appearance, and pulled us, shivering, to dry land. +Giton had ransomed himself by a very cunning scheme, for what we had +saved for him, from dinner, he threw to the barking brute, which then +calmed its fury and became engrossed with the food. But when, with +chattering teeth, we besought the porter to let us out at the door, “If +you think you can leave by the same door you came in at,” he replied, +“you’re mistaken: no guest is ever allowed to go out through the same +door he came in at; some are for entrance, others for exit.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-THIRD. + +What were we miserable wretches to do, shut up in this newfangled +labyrinth. The idea of taking a hot bath had commenced to grow in favor, +so we finally asked the porter to lead us to the place and, throwing off +our clothing, which Giton spread out in the hall to dry, we went in. +It was very small, like a cold water cistern; Trimalchio was standing +upright in it, and one could not escape his disgusting bragging even +here. He declared that there was nothing nicer than bathing without a +mob around, and that a bakery had formerly occupied this very spot. +Tired out at last, he sat down, but when the echoes of the place tempted +him, he lifted his drunken mouth to the ceiling, and commenced murdering +the songs of Menacrates, at least that is what we were told by those who +understood his language. Some of the guests joined hands and ran around +the edge of the pool, making the place ring with their boisterous peals +of laughter; others tried to pick rings up from the floor, with their +hands tied behind them, or else, going down upon their knees, tried to +touch the ends of their toes by bending backwards. We went down into the +pool while the rest were taking part in such amusements. It was being +heated for Trimalchio. When the fumes of the wine had been dissipated, +we were conducted into another dining-room where Fortunata had laid out +her own treasures; I noticed, for instance, that there were little bronze +fishermen upon the lamps, the tables were of solid silver, the cups were +porcelain inlaid with gold; before our eyes wine was being strained +through a straining cloth. “One of my slaves shaves his first beard +today,” Trimalchio remarked, at length, “a promising, honest, thrifty +lad; may he have no bad luck, so let’s get our skins full and stick +around till morning.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FOURTH. + +He had not ceased speaking when a cock crowed! Alarmed at this omen, +Trimalchio ordered wine thrown under the table and told them to sprinkle +the lamps with it; and he even went so far as to change his ring from his +left hand to his right. “That trumpeter did not sound off without a +reason,” he remarked; “there’s either a fire in the neighborhood, or else +someone’s going to give up the ghost. I hope it’s none of us! Whoever +brings that Jonah in shall have a present.” He had no sooner made this +promise, than a cock was brought in from somewhere in the neighborhood +and Trimalchio ordered the cook to prepare it for the pot. That same +versatile genius who had but a short time before made birds and fish out +of a hog, cut it up; it was then consigned to the kettle, and while +Daedalus was taking a long hot drink, Fortunata ground pepper in a +boxwood mill. When these delicacies had been consumed, Trimalchio looked +the slaves over. “You haven’t had anything to eat yet, have you?” he +asked. “Get out and let another relay come on duty.” Thereupon a second +relay came in. “Farewell, Gaius,” cried those going off duty, and “Hail, +Gaius,” cried those coming on. Our hilarity was somewhat dampened soon +after, for a boy, who was by no means bad looking, came in among the +fresh slaves. Trimalchio seized him and kissed him lingeringly, +whereupon Fortunata, asserting her rights in the house, began to rail at +Trimalchio, styling him an abomination who set no limits to his lechery, +finally ending by calling him a dog. Trimalchio flew into a rage at her +abuse and threw a wine cup at her head, whereupon she screeched, as if +she had had an eye knocked out and covered her face with her trembling +hands. Scintilla was frightened, too, and shielded the shuddering woman +with her garment. An officious slave presently held a cold water pitcher +to her cheek and Fortunata bent over it, sobbing and moaning. But as for +Trimalchio, “What the hell’s next?” he gritted out, “this Syrian +dancing-whore don’t remember anything! I took her off the auction block +and made her a woman among her equals, didn’t I? And here she puffs +herself up like a frog and pukes in her own nest; she’s a blockhead, all +right, not a woman. But that’s the way it is, if you’re born in an attic +you can’t sleep in a palace I’ll see that this booted Cassandra’s tamed, +so help me my Genius, I will! And I could have married ten million, even +if I did only have two cents: you know I’m not lying! ‘Let me give you a +tip,’ said Agatho, the perfumer to the lady next door, when he pulled me +aside: ‘don’t let your line die out!’ And here I’ve stuck the ax into my +own leg because I was a damned fool and didn’t want to seem fickle. I’ll +see to it that you’re more careful how you claw me up, sure as you’re +born, I will! That you may realize how seriously I take what you’ve done +to me--Habinnas, I don’t want you to put her statue on my tomb for fear +I’ll be nagged even after I’m dead! And furthermore, that she may know I +can repay a bad turn, I won’t have her kissing me when I’m laid out!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-FIFTH. + +When Trimalchio had launched this thunderbolt, Habinnas commenced to +beg him to control his anger. “There’s not one of us but goes wrong +sometimes,” argued he; “we’re not gods, we’re men.” Scintilla also cried +out through her tears, calling him “Gaius,” and entreating him by his +guardian angel to be mollified. Trimalchio could restrain the tears no +longer. “Habinnas,” he blubbered, “as you hope to enjoy your money, spit +in my face if I’ve done anything wrong. I kissed him because he’s very +thrifty, not because he’s a pretty boy. He can recite his division table +and read a book at sight: he bought himself a Thracian uniform from his +savings from his rations, and a stool and two dippers, with his own +money, too. He’s worth my attention, ain’t he? But Fortunata won’t see +it! Ain’t that the truth, you high-stepping hussy’? Let me beg you to +make the best of what you’ve got, you shekite, and don’t make me show my +teeth, my little darling, or you’ll find out what my temper’s like! +Believe me, when once I’ve made up my mind, I’m as fixed as a spike in a +beam! But let’s think of the living. I hope you’ll all make yourselves +at home, gentlemen: I was in your fix myself once; but rose to what I am +now by my own merit. It’s the brains that makes the man, all the rest’s +bunk. I buy well, I sell well, someone else will tell you a different +story, but as for myself, I’m fairly busting with prosperity. What, +grunting-sow, still bawling? I’ll see to it that you’ve something to +bawl for, but as I started to say, it was my thrift that brought me to +my fortune. I was just as tall as that candlestick when I came over from +Asia; every day I used to measure myself by it, and I would smear my lips +with oil so my beard would sprout all the sooner. I was my master’s +‘mistress’ for fourteen years, for there’s nothing wrong in doing what +your master orders, and I satisfied my mistress, too, during that time, +you know what I mean, but I’ll say no more, for I’m not one of your +braggarts!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SIXTH. + +“At last it came about by the will of the gods that I was master in the +house, and I had the real master under my thumb then. What is there +left to tell? I was made co-heir with Caesar and came into a Senator’s +fortune. But nobody’s ever satisfied with what he’s got, so I embarked +in business. I won’t keep you long in suspense; I built five ships and +loaded them with wine--worth its weight in gold, it was then--and sent +them to Rome. You’d think I’d ordered it so, for every last one of them +foundered; it’s a fact, no fairy tale about it, and Neptune swallowed +thirty million sesterces in one day! You don’t think I lost my pep, do +you? By Hercules, no! That was only an appetizer for me, just as if +nothing at all had happened. I built other and bigger ships, better +found, too, so no one could say I wasn’t game. A big ship’s a big +venture, you know. I loaded them up with wine again, bacon, beans, +Capuan perfumes, and slaves: Fortunata did the right thing in this +affair, too, for she sold every piece of jewelry and all her clothes into +the bargain, and put a hundred gold pieces in my hand. They were the +nest-egg of my fortune. A thing’s soon done when the gods will it; +I cleared ten million sesterces by that voyage, all velvet, and bought +in all the estates that had belonged to my patron, right away. I built +myself a house and bought cattle to resell, and whatever I touched grew +just like a honeycomb. I chucked the game when I got to have an income +greater than all the revenues of my own country, retired from business, +and commenced to back freedmen. I never liked business anyhow, as far as +that goes, and was just about ready to quit when an astrologer, a Greek +fellow he was, and his name was Serapa, happened to light in our colony, +and he slipped me some information and advised me to quit. He was hep to +all the secrets of the gods: told me things about myself that I’d +forgotten, and explained everything to me from needle and thread up; knew +me inside out, he did, and only stopped short of telling me what I’d had +for dinner the day before. You’d have thought he’d lived with me +always!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-SEVENTH. + +“Habinnas, you were there, I think, I’ll leave it to you; didn’t he say +--‘You took your wife out of a whore-house’? you’re as lucky in your +friends, too, no one ever repays your favor with another, you own broad +estates, you nourish a viper under your wing, and--why shouldn’t I tell +it--I still have thirty years, four months, and two days to live! I’ll +also come into another bequest shortly. That’s what my horoscope tells +me. If I can extend my boundaries so as to join Apulia, I’ll think I’ve +amounted to something in this life! I built this house with Mercury on +the job, anyhow; it was a hovel, as you know, it’s a palace now! Four +dining-rooms, twenty bed-rooms, two marble colonnades, a store-room +upstairs, a bed-room where I sleep myself, a sitting-room for this viper, +a very good room for the porter, a guest-chamber for visitors. As a +matter of fact, Scaurus, when he was here, would stay nowhere else, +although he has a family place on the seashore. I’ll show you many other +things, too, in a jiffy; believe me, if you have an as, you’ll be rated +at what you have. So your humble servant, who was a frog, is now a king. +Stychus, bring out my funereal vestments while we wait, the ones I’ll be +carried out in, some perfume, too, and a draught of the wine in that jar, +I mean the kind I intend to have my bones washed in.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-EIGHTH. + +It was not long before Stychus brought a white shroud and a +purple-bordered toga into the dining-room, and Trimalchio requested us +to feel them and see if they were pure wool. Then, with a smile, “Take +care, Stychus, that the mice don’t get at these things and gnaw them, or +the moths either. I’ll burn you alive if they do. I want to be carried +out in all my glory so all the people will wish me well.” Then, opening +a jar of nard, he had us all anointed. “I hope I’ll enjoy this as well +when I’m dead,” he remarked, “as I do while I’m alive.” He then ordered +wine to be poured into the punch-bowl. “Pretend,” said he, “that you’re +invited to my funeral feast.” The thing had grown positively +nauseating, when Trimalchio, beastly drunk by now, bethought himself of +a new and singular diversion and ordered some horn-blowers brought into +the dining-room. Then, propped up by many cushions, he stretched +himself out upon the couch. “Let on that I’m dead,” said he, “and say +something nice about me.” The horn-blowers sounded off a loud funeral +march together, and one in particular, a slave belonging to an +undertaker, made such a fanfare that he roused the whole neighborhood, +and the watch, which was patrolling the vicinity, thinking Trimalchio’s +house was afire, suddenly smashed in the door and rushed in with their +water and axes, as is their right, raising a rumpus all their own. We +availed ourselves of this happy circumstance and, leaving Agamemnon in +the lurch, we took to our heels, as though we were running away from a +real conflagration. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + +Affairs start to go wrong, your friends will stand from under +Doctor’s not good for anything except for a consolation +Everybody’s business is nobody’s business +He can teach you more than he knows himself +Learning’s a fine thing, and a trade won’t starve +Men are lions at home and foxes abroad +No one can show a dead man a good time +The loser’s always the winner in arguments +Too many doctors did away with him +We know that you’re only a fool with a lot of learning +Whenever you learn a thing, it’s yours +Believes, on the spot, every tale +You can spot a louse on someone else + + + + + +VOLUME 3.--FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ENCOLPIUS AND HIS COMPANIONS + + +CHAPTER THE SEVENTY-NINTH. + +There was no torch to light the way for us, as we wandered around, nor +did the silence of midnight give promise of our meeting any wayfarer with +a light; in addition to this, we were drunk and unfamiliar with the +district, which would confuse one, even in daylight, so for the best part +of a mortal hour we dragged our bleeding feet over all the flints and +pieces of broken tile, till we were extricated, at last, by Giton’s +cleverness. This prudent youngster had been afraid of going astray on +the day before, so he had taken care to mark all the pillars and columns +with chalk. These marks stood out distinctly, even through the pitchy +night, and by their brilliant whiteness pointed out the way for us as we +wandered about. Nevertheless, we had no less cause for being in a sweat +even when we came to our lodging, for the old woman herself had been +sitting and swilling so long with her guests that even if one had set her +afire, she would not have known it. We would have spent the night on the +door-sill had not Trimalchio’s courier come up in state, with ten wagons; +he hammered on the door for a short time, and then smashed it in, giving +us an entrance through the same breach. (Hastening to the +sleeping-chamber, I went to bed with my “brother” and, burning with +passion as I was, after such a magnificent dinner, I surrendered myself +wholly to sexual gratification.) + + Oh Goddesses and Gods, that purple night + How soft the couch! And we, embracing tight; + With every wandering kiss our souls would meet! + Farewell all mortal woes, to die were sweet + +But my self-congratulation was premature, for I was overcome with wine, +and when my unsteady hands relaxed their hold, Ascyltos, that +never-failing well-spring of iniquity, stole the boy away from me in the +night and carried him to his own bed, where he wallowed around without +restraint with a “brother” not his own, while the latter, not noticing +the fraud, or pretending not to notice it, went to sleep in a stranger’s +arms, in defiance of all human rights. Awaking at last, I felt the bed +over and found that it had been despoiled of its treasure: then, by all +that lovers hold dear, I swear I was on the verge of transfixing them +both with my sword and uniting their sleep with death. At last, +however, I adopted a more rational plan; I spanked Giton into +wakefulness, and, glaring at Ascyltos, “Since you have broken faith by +this outrage,” I gritted out, with a savage frown, “and severed our +friendship, you had better get your things together at once, and pick up +some other bottom for your abominations!” He raised no objection to +this, but after we had divided everything with scrupulous exactitude, +“Come on now,” he demanded, “and we’ll divide the boy!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTIETH. + +I thought this was a parting joke till he whipped out his sword, with a +murderous hand. “You’ll not have this prize you’re brooding over, all to +yourself! Since I’ve been rejected, I’ll have to cut off my share with +this sword.” I followed suit, on my side, and, wrapping a mantle around +my left arm, I put myself on guard for the duel. The unhappy boy, +rendered desperate by our unreasoning fury, hugged each of us tightly by +the knee, and in tears he humbly begged that this wretched lodging-house +should not witness a Theban duel, and that we would not pollute--with +mutual bloodshed the sacred rites of a friendship that was, as yet, +unstained. “If a crime must be committed,” he wailed, “here is my naked +throat, turn your swords this way and press home the points. I ought to +be the one to die, I broke the sacred pledge of friendship.” We lowered +our points at these entreaties. “I’ll settle this dispute,” Ascyltos +spoke up, “let the boy follow whomsoever he himself wishes to follow. +In that way, he, at least, will have perfect freedom in choosing a +‘brother’.” Imagining that a relationship of such long standing had +passed into a tie of blood, I was not at all uneasy, so I snatched at +this proposition with precipitate eagerness, and submitted the dispute to +the judge. He did not deliberate long enough to seem even to hesitate, +for he got up and chose Ascyltos for a “brother,” as soon as the last +syllable had passed my lips! At this decision I was thunder-struck, +and threw myself upon the bed, unarmed and just as I stood. Had I not +begrudged my enemy such a triumph, I would have laid violent hands upon +myself. Flushed with success, Ascyltos marched out with his prize, and +abandoned, in a strange town, a comrade in the depths of despair; one +whom, but a little while before, he had loved most unselfishly, one whose +destiny was so like his own. + + As long as is expedient, the name of friendship lives, + Just as in dicing, Fortune smiles or lowers; + When good luck beckons, then your friend his gleeful service gives + But basely flies when ruin o’er you towers. + The strollers act their farces upon the stage, each one his part, + + The father, son, the rich man, all are here, + But soon the page is turned upon the comic actor’s art, + The masque is dropped, the make-ups disappear! + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-FIRST. + +Nevertheless, I did not indulge myself very long in tears, being afraid +that Menelaus, the tutor, might drop in upon me all alone in the +lodging-house, and catch me in the midst of my troubles, so I collected my +baggage and, with a heavy heart, sneaked off to an obscure quarter near +the seashore. There, I kept to my room for three days. My mind was +continually haunted by my loneliness and desertion, and I beat my breast, +already sore from blows. “Why could not the earth have opened and +swallowed me,” I wailed aloud, between the many deep-drawn groans, “or +the sea, which rages even against the guiltless? Did I flee from +justice, murder my ghost, and cheat the arena, in order that, after so +many proofs of courage, I might be left lying here deserted, a beggar and +an exile, in a lodging-house in a Greek town? And who condemned me to +this desolation’? A boy stained by every form of vice, who, by his own +confession, ought to be exiled: free, through vice, expert in vice, whose +favors came through a throw of the dice, who hired himself out as a girl +to those who knew him to be a boy! And as to the other, what about him? +In place of the manly toga, he donned the woman’s stola when he reached +the age of puberty: he resolved, even from his mother’s womb, never to +become a man; in the slave’s prison he took the woman’s part in the +sexual act, he changed the instrument of his lechery when he +double-crossed me, abandoned the ties of a long-standing friendship, +and, shame upon him, sold everything for a single night’s dalliance, +like any other street-walker! Now the lovers lie whole nights, locked +in each other’s arms, and I suppose they make a mockery of my desolation +when they are resting up from the exhaustion caused by their mutual +excesses. But not with impunity! If I don’t avenge the wrong they have +done me in their guilty blood, I’m no free man!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-SECOND. + +I girded on my sword, when I had said these words, and, fortifying my +strength with a heavy meal, so that weakness would not cause me to lose +the battle, I presently sallied forth into the public streets and rushed +through all the arcades, like a maniac. But while, with my face savagely +convulsed in a frown, I was meditating nothing but bloodshed and +slaughter, and was continually clapping my hand to the hilt of my sword, +which I had consecrated to this, I was observed by a soldier, that is, he +either was a real soldier, or else he was some night-prowling thug, who +challenged me. “Halt! Who goes there? What legion are you from? Who’s +your centurion?” “Since when have men in your outfit gone on pass in +white shoes?” he retorted, when I had lied stoutly about both centurion +and legion. Both my face and my confusion proved that I had been caught +in a lie, so he ordered me to surrender my arms and to take care that I +did not get into trouble. I was held up, as a matter of course, and, my +revenge balked, I returned to my lodging-house and, recovering by degrees +from my fright, I began to be grateful to the boldness of the footpad. +It is not wise to place much reliance upon any scheme, because Fortune +has a method of her own. + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-THIRD. + +(Nevertheless, I found it very difficult to stifle my longing for +revenge, and after tossing half the night in anxiety, I arose at dawn +and, in the hope of mitigating my mental sufferings and of forgetting my +wrongs, I took a walk through all the public arcades and) entered a +picture-gallery, which contained a wonderful collection of pictures in +various styles. I beheld works from the hand of Zeuxis, still undimmed +by the passage of the years, and contemplated, not without a certain awe, +the crude drawings of Protogenes, which equalled the reality of nature +herself; but when I stood before the work of Apelles, the kind which the +Greeks call “Monochromatic,” verily, I almost worshipped, for the +outlines of the figures were drawn with such subtlety of touch, and were +so life-like in their precision, that you would have thought their very +souls were depicted. Here, an eagle was soaring into the sky bearing the +shepherd of Mount Ida to heaven; there, the comely Hylas was struggling +to escape from the embrace of the lascivious Naiad. Here, too, was +Apollo, cursing his murderous hand and adorning his unstrung lyre with +the flower just created. Standing among these lovers, which were only +painted, “It seems that even the gods are wracked by love,” I cried +aloud, as if I were in a wilderness. “Jupiter could find none to his +taste, even in his own heaven, so he had to sin on earth, but no one was +betrayed by him! The nymph who ravished Hylas would have controlled her +passion had she thought Hercules was coming to forbid it. Apollo +recalled the spirit of a boy in the form of a flower, and all the lovers +of Fable enjoyed Love’s embraces without a rival, but I took as a comrade +a friend more cruel than Lycurgus!” But at that very instant, as I was +telling my troubles to the winds, a white-haired old man entered the +picture-gallery; his face was care-worn, and he seemed, I know not why, +to give promise of something great, although he bestowed so little care +upon his dress that it was easily apparent that he belonged to that class +of literati which the wealthy hold in contempt. “I am a poet,” he +remarked, when he had approached me and stood at my side, “and one of no +mean ability, I hope, that is, if anything is to be inferred from the +crowns which gratitude can place even upon the heads of the unworthy! +Then why, you demand, are you dressed so shabbily? For that very reason; +love or art never yet made anyone rich.” + + The trader trusts his fortune to the sea and takes his gains, + The warrior, for his deeds, is girt with gold; + The wily sycophant lies drunk on purple counterpanes, + Young wives must pay debauchees or they’re cold. + But solitary, shivering, in tatters Genius stands + Invoking a neglected art, for succor at its hands. + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-FOURTH. + +“It is certainly true that a man is hated when he declares himself an +enemy to all vice, and begins to follow the right road in life, because, +in the first place, his habits are different from those of other people; +for who ever approved of anything to which he took exceptions? Then, +they whose only ambition is to pile up riches, don’t want to believe that +men can possess anything better than that which they have themselves; +therefore, they use every means in their power to so buffet the lovers +of literature that they will seem in their proper place--below the +moneybags.” “I know not why it should be so,” (I said with a sigh), “but +Poverty is the sister of Genius.” (“You have good reason,” the old man +replied, “to deplore the status of men of letters.” “No,” I answered, +“that was not the reason for my sigh, there is another and far weightier +cause for my grief.” Then, in accordance with the human propensity of +pouring one’s personal troubles into another’s ears, I explained my +misfortune to him, and dwelt particularly upon Ascyltos’ perfidy.) “Oh +how I wish that this enemy who is the cause of my enforced continence +could be mollified,” (I cried, with many a groan,) “but he is an old hand +at robbery, and more cunning than the pimps themselves!” (My frankness +pleased the old man, who attempted to comfort me and, to beguile my +sorrow, he related the particulars of an amorous intrigue in which he +himself had played a part.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-FIFTH. + +“When I was attached to the Quaestor’s staff, in Asia, I was quartered +with a family at Pergamus. I found things very much to my liking there, +not only on account of the refined comfort of my apartments, but also +because of the extreme beauty of my host’s son. For the latter reason, +I had recourse to strategy, in order that the father should never suspect +me of being a seducer. So hotly would I flare up, whenever the abuse +of handsome boys was even mentioned at the table, and with such +uncompromising sternness would I protest against having my ears insulted +by such filthy talk, that I came to be looked upon, especially by the +mother, as one of the philosophers. I was conducting the lad to the +gymnasium before very long, and superintending his conduct, taking +especial care, all the while, that no one who could debauch him should +ever enter the house. Then there came a holiday, the school was closed, +and our festivities had rendered us too lazy to retire properly, so we +lay down in the dining-room. It was just about midnight, and I knew he +was awake, so I murmured this vow, in a very low voice, ‘Oh Lady Venus, +could I but kiss this lad, and he not know it, I would give him a pair of +turtle-doves tomorrow!’ On hearing the price offered for this favor, the +boy commenced to snore! Then, bending over the pretending sleeper, I +snatched a fleeting kiss or two. Satisfied with this beginning, I arose +early in the morning, brought a fine pair of turtle-doves to the eager +lad, and absolved myself from my vow.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-SIXTH. + +“Next night, when the same opportunity presented itself, I changed my +petition, ‘If I can feel him all over with a wanton hand,’ I vowed, ‘and +he not know it, I will give him two of the gamest fighting-cocks, for his +silence.’ The lad nestled closer to me of his own accord, on hearing this +offer, and I truly believe that he was afraid that I was asleep. I made +short work of his apprehensions on that score, however, by stroking and +fondling his whole body. I worked myself into a passionate fervor that +was just short of supreme gratification. Then, when day dawned, I made +him happy with what I had promised him. When the third night gave me +my chance, I bent close to the ear of the rascal, who pretended to be +asleep. ‘Immortal gods,’ I whispered, ‘if I can take full and complete +satisfaction of my love, from this sleeping beauty, I will tomorrow +present him with the best Macedonian pacer in the market, in return for +this bliss, provided that he does not know it.’ Never had the lad slept +so soundly! First I filled my hands with his snowy breasts, then I +pressed a clinging kiss upon his mouth, but I finally focused all my +energies upon one supreme delight! Early in the morning, he sat up in +bed, awaiting my usual gift. It is much easier to buy doves and +game-cocks than it is to buy a pacer, as you know, and aside from that, +I was also afraid that so valuable a present might render my motive +subject to suspicion, so, after strolling around for some hours, I +returned to the house, and gave the lad nothing at all except a kiss. +He looked all around, threw his arms about my neck. ‘Tell me, master,’ +he cried, ‘where’s the pacer?’ [‘The difficulty of getting one fine +enough has compelled me to defer the fulfillment of my promise,’ I +replied, ‘but I will make it good in a few days.’ The lad easily +understood the true meaning of my answer, and his countenance betrayed +his secret resentment.)” + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-SEVENTH. + +“(In the meantime,) by breaking this vow, I had cut myself off from the +avenue of access which I had contrived, but I returned to the attack, all +the same, when the opportunity came. In a few days, a similar occasion +brought about the very same conditions as before, and the instant I heard +his father snoring, I began pleading with the lad to receive me again +into his good graces, that is to say, that he ought to suffer me to +satisfy myself with him, and he in turn could do whatever his own +distended member desired. He was very angry, however, and would say +nothing at all except, ‘Either you go to sleep, or I’ll call father!’ +But no obstacle is so difficult that depravity cannot twist around it and +even while he threatened ‘I’ll call father,’ I slipped into his bed and +took my pleasure in spite of his half-hearted resistance. Nor was he +displeased with my improper conduct for, although he complained for a +while, that he had been cheated and made a laughing-stock, and that his +companions, to whom he had bragged of his wealthy friend, had made sport +of him. ‘But you’ll see that I’ll not be like you,’ he whispered; ‘do it +again, if you want to!’ All misunderstandings were forgotten and I was +readmitted into the lad’s good graces. Then I slipped off to sleep, +after profiting by his complaisance. But the youth, in the very flower +of maturity, and just at the best age for passive pleasure, was by no +means satisfied with only one repetition, so he roused me out of a heavy +sleep. ‘Isn’t there something you’d like to do?’ he whispered! The +pastime had not begun to cloy, as yet, and, somehow or other, what with +panting and sweating and wriggling, he got what he wanted and, worn out +with pleasure, I dropped off to sleep again. Less than an hour had passed +when he began to punch me with his hand. ‘Why are we not busy,’ he +whispered! I flew into a violent rage at being disturbed so many times, +and threatened him in his own words, ‘Either you go to sleep, or I’ll +call father!’” + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-EIGHTH. + +Heartened up by this story, I began to draw upon his more comprehensive +knowledge as to the ages of the pictures and as to certain of the stories +connected with them, upon which I was not clear; and I likewise inquired +into the causes of the decadence of the present age, in which the most +refined arts had perished, and among them painting, which had not left +even the faintest trace of itself behind. “Greed of money,” he replied, +“has brought about these unaccountable changes. In the good old times, +when virtue was her own reward, the fine arts flourished, and there was +the keenest rivalry among men for fear that anything which could be of +benefit to future generations should remain long undiscovered. Then it +was that Democritus expressed the juices of all plants and spent his +whole life in experiments, in order that no curative property should lurk +unknown in stone or shrub. That he might understand the movements of +heaven and the stars, Eudoxus grew old upon the summit of a lofty +mountain: three times did Chrysippus purge his brain with hellebore, +that his faculties might be equal to invention. Turn to the sculptors if +you will; Lysippus perished from hunger while in profound meditation upon +the lines of a single statue, and Myron, who almost embodied the souls of +men and beasts in bronze, could not find an heir. And we, sodden with +wine and women, cannot even appreciate the arts already practiced, we +only criticise the past! We learn only vice, and teach it, too. What has +become of logic? of astronomy? Where is the exquisite road to wisdom? +Who even goes into a temple to make a vow, that he may achieve eloquence +or bathe in the fountain of wisdom? And they do not pray for good health +and a sound mind; before they even set foot upon the threshold of the +temple, one promises a gift if only he may bury a rich relative; another, +if he can but dig up a treasure, and still another, if he is permitted to +amass thirty millions of sesterces in safety! The Senate itself, the +exponent of all that should be right and just, is in the habit of +promising a thousand pounds of gold to the capitol, and that no one may +question the propriety of praying for money, it even decorates Jupiter +himself with spoils’. Do not hesitate, therefore, at expressing your +surprise at the deterioration of painting, since, by all the gods and men +alike, a lump of gold is held to be more beautiful than anything ever +created by those crazy little Greek fellows, Apelles and Phydias!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE EIGHTY-NINTH. + +“But I see that your whole attention is held by that picture which +portrays the destruction of Troy, so I will attempt to unfold the story +in verse: + +And now the tenth harvest beheld the beleaguered of Troia + +Worn out with anxiety, fearing the honor of Calchas + +The prophet, hung wavering deep in the blackest despair. + +Apollo commanded! The forested peaks of Mount Ida + +Were felled and dragged down; the hewn timbers were fitted to fashion + +A war-horse. Unfilled is a cavity left, and this cavern, + +Roofed over, capacious enough for a camp. Here lie hidden + +The raging impetuous valor of ten years of warfare. + +Malignant Greek troops pack the recess, lurk in their own offering. + +Alas my poor country! We thought that their thousand grim war-ships + +Were beaten and scattered, our arable lands freed from warfare! + +Th’ inscription cut into the horse, and the crafty behavior + +Of Sinon, his mind ever powerful for evil, affirmed it. + +Delivered from war, now the crowd, carefree, hastens to worship + +And pours from the portals. Their cheeks wet with weeping, the joy + +Of their tremulous souls brings to eyes tears which terror + +Had banished. Laocoon, priest unto Neptune, with hair loosed, + +An outcry evoked from the mob: he drew back his javelin + +And launched it! The belly of wood was his target. The weapon + +Recoiled, for the fates stayed his hand, and this artifice won us. + +His feeble hand nerved he anew, and the lofty sides sounded, + +His two-edged ax tried them severely. The young troops in ambush + +Gasped. And as long as the reverberations re-echoed + +The wooden mass breathed out a fear that was not of its own. + +Imprisoned, the warriors advance to take Troia a captive + +And finish the struggle by strategem new and unheard of. + +Behold! Other portents: Where Tenedos steep breaks the ocean + +Where great surging billows dash high; to be broken, and leap back + +To form a deep hollow of calm, and resemble the plashing + +Of oars, carried far through the silence of night, as when ships pass + +And drive through the calm as it smashes against their fir bows. + +Then backward we look towards the rocks; the tide carries two serpents + +That coil and uncoil as they come, and their breasts, which are swollen + +Aside dash the foam, as the bows of tall ships; and the ocean + +Is lashed by their tails, their manes, free on the water, as savage + +As even their eyes: now a blinding beam kindles the billows, + +The sea with their hissing is sibilant! All stare in terror! + +Laocoon’s twin sons in Phrygian raiment are standing + +With priests wreathed for sacrifice. Them did the glistening serpents + +Enfold in their coils! With their little hands shielding their faces, + +The boys, neither thinking of self, but each one of his brother! + +Fraternal love’s sacrifice! Death himself slew those poor children + +By means of their unselfish fear for each other! The father, + +A helper too feeble, now throws himself prone on their bodies: + +The serpents, now glutted with death, coil around him and drag him + +To earth! And the priest, at his altar a victim, lies beating + +The ground. Thus the city of Troy, doomed to sack and destruction, + +First lost her own gods by profaning their shrines and their worship. + +The full moon now lifted her luminous beam and the small stars + +Led forth, with her torch all ablaze; when the Greeks drew the bolts + +And poured forth their warriors, on Priam’s sons, buried in darkness + +And sodden with wine. First the leaders made trial of their weapons + +Just as the horse, when unhitched from Thessalian neck-yoke, + +First tosses his head and his mane, ere to pasture he rushes. + +They draw their swords, brandish their shields and rush into the battle. + +One slays the wine-drunken Trojans, prolonging their dreams + +To death, which ends all. Still another takes brands from the altars, + +And calls upon Troy’s sacred temples to fight against Trojans.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINTIETH. + +Some of the public, who were loafing in the portico, threw stones at the +reciting Eumolpus and he, taking note of this tribute to his genius, +covered his head and bolted out of the temple. Fearing they might take +me for a poet, too, I followed after him in his flight and came to the +seashore, where we stopped as soon as we were out of range. “Tell me,” + I demanded, “what are you going to do about that disease of yours? +You’ve loafed with me less than two hours, and you’ve talked more often +like a poet than you have like a human being! For this reason, I’m not +at all surprised that the rabble chases you with rocks. I’m going to +load my pockets with stones, too, and whenever you begin to go out of +your head, I’m going to let blood out of it!” His expression changed. +“My dear young man,” said he, “today is not the first time I have had +such compliments showered upon me; the audience always applauds me in +this fashion, when I go into the theatre to recite anything, but I’ll +abstain from this sort of diet for the whole day, for fear of having +trouble with you.” “Good,” I replied, “we’ll dine together if you’ll +swear off crankiness for the day.” (So saying,) I gave the housekeeper +the orders for our little supper (and we went straight off to the baths.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-FIRST. + +(There) I catch sight of Giton laden with towels and scrapers, leaning, +downhearted and embarrassed, against the wall. You could see that he did +not serve of his own free will. Then, that I might assure myself that I +saw aright, “Take pity on me, brother,” he cried, turning towards me a +face lighted up with joy, “there are no arms here, I can speak freely +take me away from that bloody robber, and punish your penitent judge as +severely as you like. To have perished, should you wish it, will be a +consolation great enough in my misery!” Fearing some one might overhear +our plans, I bade him hush his complaints and, leaving Eumolpus behind +--for he was reciting a poem in the bath--I pull Giton down a dark and +dirty passage, after me, and fly with all speed to my lodgings. Arriving +there, I slam the door shut, embrace him convulsively, and press my face +against his which is all wet with tears. For a long time, neither of us +could find his voice, and as for the lad, his shapely bosom was heaving +continuously with choking sobs. “Oh the disgraceful inconsistency of it +all,” I cried, “for I love you still, although you abandoned me, and no +scar from that gaping wound is left upon this breast! What can you say +that will justify you in yielding your love to a stranger? Did I merit +such an affront’?” He held his head higher when he found that he was +loved. + + For one to love, and at the same time, blame, + That were a labor Hercules to tame! + Conflicting passions yield in Cupid’s name. + +(“And furthermore,” I went on), “I was not the one that laid the cause of +our love before another judge, but I will complain no more, I will +remember nothing, if you will prove your penitence by keeping faith.” + He wiped his face upon his mantle, while I poured out these words, with +groans and tears. “Encolpius,” said he, “I beseech you, I appeal to your +honest recollection, did I leave you, or did you throw me over? For my +part, I admit, and openly at that, that I sought, refuge with the +stronger, when I beheld two armed men.” I kissed that, bosom, so full of +prudence, threw my arms around his neck and pressed him tightly against +my breast, that he might see unmistakably that he had gotten back into my +good graces, and that our friendship lived again in perfect confidence. + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-SECOND. + +Night had fallen by this time, and the woman to whom I had given my order +had prepared supper, when Eumolpus knocked at the door. “How many of you +are there?” I called out, and as I spoke, I peeped cautiously through a +chink in the door to see if Ascyltos had come with him; then, as I +perceived that he was the only guest, I quickly admitted him. He threw +himself upon the pallet and caught sight of Giton, waiting table, +whereupon, he nodded his head, “I like your Ganymede,” he remarked, +“this day promises a good ending!” I did not take kindly to such an +inquisitive beginning, fearing that I had let another Ascyltos into my +lodging. Eumolpus stuck to his purpose. “I like you better than the +whole bathful,” he remarked, when the lad had served him with wine, then +he thirstily drained the cup dry and swore that never before had he +tasted a wine with such a satisfying tang to it. “While I was bathing,” + he went on, “I was almost beaten up for trying to recite a poem to the +people sitting around the basin, and when I had been thrown out of the +baths, just like I was out of the theatre, I hunted through every nook +and cranny of the building, calling ‘Encolpius, Encolpius,’ at the top of +my voice. A naked youth at the other end, who had lost his clothes, was +bawling just as loudly and no less angrily for Giton! As for myself, the +slaves took me for a maniac, and mimicked me in the most insolent manner, +but a large crowd gathered around him, clapping its hands in awe-struck +admiration, for so heavy and massive were his private parts, that you +would have thought that the man himself was but an appendage of his own +member! Oh such a man! He could do his bit all right! I haven’t a +doubt but that he could begin on the day before and never finish till the +day after the next! And he soon found a friend, of course: some Roman +knight or other, I don’t know his name, but he bears a bad reputation, so +they say, threw his own mantle around the wanderer and took him off home +with himself, hoping, I suppose, to have the sole enjoyment of so huge a +prize. But I couldn’t get my own clothing back from the officious bath +attendant till I found some one who could identify me, which only goes to +show that it is more profitable to rub up the member than it is to polish +the mind!” While Eumolpus was relating all this, I changed countenance +continually, elated, naturally, at the mishaps of my enemy, and vexed at +his good fortune; but I controlled my tongue nevertheless, as if I knew +nothing about the episode, and read aloud the bill of fare. (Hardly had +I finished, when our humble meal was served. The food was plain but +succulent and nutritious, and the famished scholar Eumolpus, fell to +ravenously.) + + Kind Providence unto our needs has tempered its decrees + And met our wants, our carping plaints to still + Green herbs, and berries hanging on their rough and brambly sprays + Suffice our hunger’s gnawing pangs to kill. + What fool would thirst upon a river’s brink? Or stand and freeze + In icy blasts, when near a cozy fire? + The law sits armed outside the door, adulterers to seize, + The chaste bride, guiltless, gratifies desire. + All Nature lavishes her wealth to meet our just demands; + But, spurred by lust of pride, we stop at naught to gain our ends! + +(Our philosopher began to moralize, when he had gorged himself, leveling +many critical shafts at those who hold every-day things in contempt, +esteeming nothing except what is rare.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-THIRD. + +(“To their perverted taste,” he went on,) everything one may have +lawfully is held cheap and the appetite, tickled only by forbidden +indulgences, delights in what is most difficult to obtain. + + The pheasant from Colchis, the wild-fowl from African shores, + + Because they are dainties, the parvenu’s palate adores + + The white-feathered goose, and the duck in his bright-colored plumes + + Must nourish the rabble; they’re common, so them Fashion dooms! + + The wrasse brought from dangerous Syrtis is much more esteemed + + When fishing-boats founder! And even the mullet is deemed, + + No matter how heavy, a weight on the market! The whore + + Displaces the wife; and in perfumes, the cinnamon more + + Is esteemed than the rose! So whatever we have, we despise, + + And whatever we have not, we think a superlative prize!” + +“Is this the way in which you keep your promise not to recite a single +verse today?” I demanded; “bear in mind your promise and spare us, at +least, for we have thrown no rocks at you yet. If a single one of those +fellows drinking under this very roof were to smell out a poet in their +midst, he would arouse the whole neighborhood and involve all of us in +the same misunderstanding!” Giton, who was one of the gentlest of lads, +took me to task for having spoken in that manner, denying that I did +rightly in criticising my elders and at the same time forgetting my +duties as host by offering an affront to one whom I had invited out of +kindness. And much more, full of moderation and propriety, which was in +exquisite keeping with his good looks. + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-FOURTH. + +“Happy the mother,” cried Eumolpus, “who bore such a son as you! May +your fortune be in keeping with your merit! Beauty and wisdom are rarely +found mixed! And that you may not think that all your words are wasted, +know that you have found a lover! I will fill my verses with your +praise! I will act as your guardian and your tutor, following you even +when you bid me stay behind! Nor can Encolpius take offense, he loves +another.” The soldier who took my sword from me did Eumolpus a good +turn, too; otherwise, the rage which I had felt against Ascyltos would +have been quenched in the blood of Eumolpus. Seeing what was in the wind, +Giton slipped out of the room, pretending he was going after water, and +by this diplomatic retreat he put an end to my fury. Then, as my anger +cooled, little by little, “Eumolpus,” I said, “rather than have you +entertain designs of such a nature, I would even prefer to have you +spouting poetry! I am hot-tempered and you are lecherous; see how +uncongenial two such dispositions must be! Take me for a maniac, humor +my malady: in other words, get out quick!” Taken completely aback by +this onslaught, Eumolpus crossed the threshold of the room without +stopping to ask the reason for my wrath, and immediately slammed the door +shut, penning me in, as I was not looking for any move of that kind then, +having quickly removed the key, he hurried away in search of Giton. +Finding that I was locked in, I decided to hang myself, and had already +fastened my belt to the bedstead which stood alongside of the wall, and +was engaged in fastening the noose around my neck, when the doors were +unlocked and Eumolpus came in with Giton, recalling me to light when I +was just about to turn the fatal goal-post! Giton was greatly wrought up +and his grief turned to fury: seizing me with both hands, he threw me +upon the bed. “If you think, Encolpius,” he shrieked, “that you can +contrive to die before I do, you’re wrong! I thought of suicide first. +I hunted for a sword in Ascyltos’ house: I would have thrown myself from +a precipice if I had not found you! You know that Death is never far +from those who seek him, so take your turn and witness the spectacle you +wished to see!” So saying, he snatched a razor from Eumolpus’ servant, +slashed his throat, once, twice, and fell down at our feet! I uttered a +loud cry, rushed to him as he fell, and sought the road to death by the +same steel; Giton, however, showed not the faintest trace of any wound, +nor was I conscious of feeling any pain. The razor, it turned out, was +untempered and dull and was used to imbue boy apprentices with the +confidence of the experienced barber. Hence it was in a sheath and, for +the reason given above, the servant was not alarmed when the blade was +snatched nor did Eumolpus break in upon this farcical death scene. + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-FIFTH. + +The landlord made his appearance with a part of our little supper, while +this lover’s comedy was being enacted and, taking in the very disorderly +spectacle which we presented, lying there and wallowing as we were, +“Are you drunk,” he demanded, “or are you runaway slaves, or both? +Who turned up that bed there? What’s the meaning of all these sneaking +preparations? You didn’t want to pay the room-rent, you didn’t, by +Hercules, you didn’t; you wanted to wait till night and run away into the +public streets, but that won’t go here! This is no widow’s joint, I’ll +show you that; not yet it ain’t! This place belongs to Marcus +Manicius!” “So you threaten, do you’?” yelled Eumolpus, giving the +fellow a resounding slap in the face. At this, the latter threw a small +earthenware pitcher, which had been emptied by the draughts of successive +guests, at Eumolpus’ head, and cut open the forehead of his cursing +adversary: then he skipped out of the room. Infuriated at such an +insult, Eumolpus snatched up a wooden candlestick, ran in pursuit of his +retreating foeman, and avenged his broken head with a shower of blows. +The entire household crowded around, as did a number of drunken lodgers, +but I seized this opportunity of retaliating and locked Eumolpus out, +retorting his own trick upon the quarrelsome fellow, and found myself +without a rival, as it were, able to enjoy my room and my night’s +pleasure as well. In the meantime, Eumolpus, locked out as he was, +was being very roughly handled by the cooks and scullions of the +establishment; one aimed a spitful of hissing-hot guts at his eyes; +another grabbed a two-tined fork in the pantry and put himself on guard. +But worst of all, a blear-eyed old hag, girded round with a filthy apron, +and wearing wooden clogs which were not mates, dragged in an immense dog +on a chain, and “sicked” him upon Eumolpus, but he beat off all attacks +with his candlestick. + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-SIXTH. + +We took in the entire performance through a hole in the folding-doors: +this had been made but a short time before, when the handle had been +broken and jerked out, and I wished him joy of his beating. Giton, +however, forgetting everything except his own compassion, thought we +ought to open the door and succor Eumolpus, in his peril; but being still +angry, I could not restrain my hand; clenching my fist, I rapped his +pitying head with my sharp knuckles. In tears, he sat upon the bed, +while I applied each eye in turn, to the opening, filling myself up as +with a dainty dish, with Eumolpus’ misfortunes, and gloating over their +prolongation, when Bargates, agent for the building, called from his +dinner, was carried into the midst of the brawl by two chair-men, for he +had the gout. He carried on for some time against drunkards and fugitive +slaves, in a savage tone and with a barbarous accent, and then, looking +around and catching sight of Eumolpus, “What,” he exclaimed, “are you +here, nay prince of poets? and these damned slaves don’t scatter at once +and stop their brawling!” (Then, whispering in Eumolpus’ ear,) “My +bedfellow’s got an idea that she’s finer-haired than I am; lampoon her +in a poem, if you think anything of me, and make ‘er ashamed.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-SEVENTH. + +Eumolpus was speaking privately with Bargates, when a crier attended by a +public slave entered the inn, accompanied by a medium-sized crowd of +outsiders. Waving a torch that gave out more smoke than light, he +announced: “Strayed from the baths, a short time ago, a boy about sixteen +years of age, curly headed, a minion, handsome, answers to the name of +Giton. One thousand sesterces reward will be paid to anyone bringing him +back or giving information as to his whereabouts.” Ascyltos, dressed in +a tunic of many colors, stood not far from the crier, holding out a +silver tray upon which was piled the reward, as evidence of good faith. +I ordered Giton to get under the bed immediately, telling him to stick +his hands and feet through the rope netting which supported the mattress, +and, just as Ulysses of old had clung to the ram, so he, stretched out +beneath the mattress, would evade the hands of the hunters. And Giton +did not hesitate at obeying this order, but fastened his hands in the +netting for a moment, outdoing Ulysses in his own cunning! For fear of +leaving room for suspicion, I piled covers upon my pallet, leaving the +impression of a single person of my own stature. Meanwhile Ascyltos, in +company with the magistrate’s servant, had ransacked all the rooms and +had come at last to mine, where he entertained greater hopes of success, +because he found the doors carefully barred. The public slave loosened +the bolts by inserting the edge of his ax in the chink. I threw myself +at Ascyltos’ feet, begging him, by the memory of our friendship and our +companionship in suffering, to show me my “brother,” safe and sound, and +furthermore, that my simulated prayers might carry conviction, I added, +“I know very well, Ascyltos, that you have come here seeking my life. +If not, why the axes? + +“Well, fatten your grudge, then! Here’s my neck! Pour out that blood +you seek to shed under pretext of a search!” Ascyltos repelled this +suspicion, affirming that he sought nothing except his own fugitive and +desired the death of neither man nor suppliant, and least of all did he +wish to harm one whom, now that their quarrel was over, he regarded as +his dearest friend. + + + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-EIGHTH. + +The public servant, however, was not derelict in the performance of his +duty for, snatching a cane from the innkeeper, he poked underneath the +bed, ransacking every corner, even to the cracks in the wall. Twisting +his body out of reach, and cautiously drawing a full breath, Giton +pressed his mouth against the very bugs themselves. (The pair had +scarcely left the room) when Eumolpus burst in in great excitement, for +the doors had been broken and could keep no one out. “The thousand +sesterces are mine,” he shouted, “I’ll follow that crier out and tell him +Giton is in your power, and it will serve you right, too!” Seeing that +his mind was made up, I embraced his knees and besought him not to kill a +dying man. “You might have some reason for being excited,” I said, “if +you could produce the missing boy, but you cannot, as the thing stands +now, for he escaped into the crowd and I have not even a suspicion as to +where he has gone! Get the lad back, Eumolpus, for heaven’s sake, even +if you do restore him to Ascyltos!” I had just succeeded in persuading +him to believe all this when Giton, nearly suffocated from holding his +breath, suddenly sneezed three times, and shook the bed. Eumolpus turned +at the commotion. “Hello, Giton,” he exclaimed, “glad to see you!” Then +he turned back the mattress and discovered an Ulysses who even a ravenous +Cyclops might have spared; thereupon, he faced me, “You robber,” said he, +“what does all this mean? You hadn’t the nerve to tell me the truth even +when you were caught! If the god, that umpires human affairs hadn’t +forced a sign from this boy as he hung there, I would be wandering from +one pot-house to another, like a fool!” (But) Giton was far more tactful +than I: first of all, he dressed the cut upon Eumolpus’ forehead, with +spider’s web soaked in oil; he then exchanged the poet’s torn clothing +for his own cloak; this done, he embraced the old gentleman, who was +already somewhat mollified, and poulticed him with kisses. “Dearest of +fathers,” he cried, “we are entirely in your hands! In yours alone! If +you love your Giton, do your best to save him. Would that some cruel +flame might devour me, alone, or that the wintry sea might swallow me, +for I am the cause for all these crimes. Two enemies would be reconciled +if I should perish!” (Moved by our troubles, but particularly stirred by +Giton’s caresses, “You are fools,” exclaimed Eumolpus, “you certainly +are: here you are gifted with talents enough to make your fortunes and +you still lead a life of misery, and every day you bring new torments +upon yourselves, as the fruits of your own acts!)” + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + +Death is never far from those who seek him +Esteeming nothing except what is rare +Love or art never yet made anyone rich +Man is hated when he declares himself an enemy to all vice +Propensity of pouring one’s personal troubles into another’s ear +Whatever we have, we despise + + + + + +VOLUME 4.--ENCOLPIUS, GITON AND EUMOLPUS ESCAPE BY SEA + + +CHAPTER THE NINETY-NINTH. + +“I have always and everywhere lived such a life that each passing day was +spent as though that light would never return; (that is, in tranquillity! +Put aside those thoughts which worry you, if you wish to follow my lead. +Ascyltos persecutes you here; get out of his way. I am about to start +for foreign parts, you may come with me. I have taken a berth on a +vessel which will probably weigh anchor this very night. I am well known +on board, and we shall be well received.) + + Leave then thy home and seek a foreign shore + Brave youth; for thee thy destiny holds more: + To no misfortune yield! The Danube far + Shall know thy spirit, and the polar star, + And placid Nile, and they who dwell in lands + Where sunrise starts, or they where sunset ends! + A new Ulysses treads on foreign sands.” + +(To me, this advice seemed both sound and practical, because it would +free me from any annoyance by Ascyltos, and because it gave promise of a +happier life. I was overcome by the kindly sympathy of Eumolpus, and was +especially sorry for the latest injury I had done him. I began to repent +my jealousy, which had been the cause of so many unpleasant happenings) +and with many tears, I begged and pled with him to admit me into favor, +as lovers cannot control their furious jealousy, and vowing, at the same +time, that I would not by word or deed give him cause for offense in the +future. And he, like a learned and cultivated gentleman, ought to remove +all irritation from his mind, and leave no trace of it behind. The snows +belong upon the ground in wild and uncultivated regions, but where the +earth has been beautified by the conquest of the plough, the light snow +melts away while you speak of it. And so it is with anger in the heart; +in savage minds it lingers long, it glides quickly away from the +cultured. “That you may experience the truth of what you say,” exclaimed +Eumolpus, “see! I end my anger with a kiss. May good luck go with us! +Get your baggage together and follow me, or go on ahead, if you prefer.” + While he was speaking, a knock sounded at the door, and a sailor with a +bristling beard stood upon the threshold. “You’re hanging in the wind, +Eumolpus,” said he, “as if you didn’t know that son-of-a-bitch of a +skipper!” Without further delay we all got up. Eumolpus ordered his +servant, who had been asleep for some time, to bring his baggage out. +Giton and I pack together whatever we have for the voyage and, after +praying to the stars, we went aboard. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDREDTH. + +(We picked out a retired spot on the poop and Eumolpus dozed off, as it +was not yet daylight. Neither Giton nor myself could get a wink of +sleep, however. Anxiously I reflected that I had received Eumolpus as a +comrade, a rival more formidable than Ascyltos, and that thought tortured +me. But reason soon put my uneasiness to flight.) “It is unfortunate,” + (said I to myself,) “that the lad has so taken our friend’s fancy, but +what of it? Is not nature’s every masterpiece common to all? The sun +shines upon all alike! The moon with her innumerable train of stars +lights even the wild beasts to their food. What can be more beautiful +than water? + +“Yet it flows for common use. Shall love alone, then, be stolen, rather +than be regarded as a prize to be won? No, indeed I desire no possession +unless the world envies me for possessing it. A solitary old man can +scarcely become a serious rival; even should he wish to take advantage, +he would lose it through lack of breath.” When, but without any +confidence, I had arrived at these conclusions, and beguiled my uneasy +spirit, I covered my head with my tunic and began to feign sleep, when +all of a sudden, as though Fortune were bent upon annihilating my peace +of mind, a voice upon the ship’s deck gritted out something like this +--“So he fooled me after all.”--As this voice, which was a man’s, and was +only too familiar, struck my ears, my heart fluttered. And then a woman, +equally furious, spat out more spitefully still--“If only some god would +put Giton into my hands, what a fine time I would give that runaway.” + --Stunned by these unexpected words, we both turned pale as death. I was +completely terrified, and, as though I were enveloped in some turbulent +nightmare, was a long time finding my voice, but at last, with trembling +hands, I tugged at the hem of Eumolpus’ clothing, just as he was sinking +into slumber. “Father,” I quavered, “on your word of honor, can you tell +me whose ship this is, and whom she has aboard?” Peeved at being +disturbed, “So,” he snapped, “this was the reason you wished to have us +quartered in the most inaccessible spot on deck, was it? So we could get +no rest! What good will it do you when I’ve informed you that Lycas of +Tarentum is master of this ship and that he carries Tryphaena as an exile +to Tarentum?” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIRST. + +I shivered, horror-struck, at this thunderbolt and, beating my throat, +“Oh Destiny,” I wailed, “you’ve vanquished me completely, at last!” As +for Giton, he fell in a faint upon my bosom and remained unconscious for +quite a while, until a sweat finally relieved our tension, whereupon, +hugging Eumolpus around the knees, “Take pity upon the perishing,” I +besought him, “in the name of our common learning, aid us! Death himself +hangs over us, and he will come as a relief unless you help us!” + Overwhelmed by this implication, Eumolpus swore by all the gods and +goddesses that he knew nothing of what had happened, nor had he had any +ulterior purpose in mind, but that he had brought his companions upon +this voyage which he himself had long intended taking, with the most +upright intentions and in the best of good faith. “But,” demanded he, +“what is this ambush? Who is this Hannibal who sails with us? Lycas of +Tarentum is a most respectable citizen and the owner, not only of this +ship, which he commands in person, but of landed estates as well as +commercial houses under the management of slaves. He carries a cargo +consigned to market. He is the Cyclops, the arch-pirate, to whom we owe +our passage! And then, besides himself, there is Tryphaena, a most +charming woman, travelling about here and there in search of pleasure.” + “But,” objected Giton, “they are the very ones we are most anxious to +avoid,” whereupon he explained to the astonished Eumolpus the reasons for +their enmity and for the danger which threatened us. So muddled did he +become, at what had been told him, that he lost the power of thinking, +and requested each of us to offer his own opinion. “Just imagine,” said +he, “that we are trapped in the Cyclops’ cave: some way out must be +found, unless we bring about a shipwreck, and free ourselves from all +dangers!” “Bribe the pilot, if necessary, and persuade him to steer the +ship into some port,” volunteered Giton; “tell him your brother’s nearly +dead from seasickness: your woebegone face and streaming tears will lend +color to your deception, and the pilot may be moved to mercy and grant +your prayer.” Eumolpus denied the practicability of this. “It is only +with difficulty,” affirmed he, “that large ships are warped into +landlocked harbors, nor would it appear probable that my brother could +have been taken so desperately in so short a time. And then, Lycas will +be sure to want to visit a sick passenger, as part of his duties! You +can see for yourselves what a fine stroke it would be, bringing the +captain to his own runaways! But, supposing that the ship could be put +off her course, supposing that Lycas did not hold sick-call, how could we +leave the ship in such a manner as not to be stared at by all the rest? +With muffled heads? With bare? If muffled, who would not want to lend +the sick man a hand? If bare, what would it mean if not proscribing +ourselves?” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SECOND. + +“Why would it not be better to take refuge in boldness,” I asked, “slide +down a rope into the ship’s boat, cut the painter, and leave the rest to +luck’? And furthermore, I would not involve Eumolpus in this adventure, +for what is the good of getting an innocent man into troubles with which +he has no concern? I shall be well content if chance helps us into the +boat.” “Not a bad scheme,” Eumolpus agreed, “if it could only be carried +out: but who could help seeing you when you start? Especially the man at +the helm, who stands watch all night long and observes even the motions +of the stars. But it could be done in spite of that, when he dozed off +for a second, that is, if you chose some other part of the ship from +which to start: as it is, it must be the stern, you must even slip down +the rudder itself, for that is where the painter that holds the boat in +tow is made fast. And there is still something else, Encolpius. I am +surprised that it has not occurred to you that one sailor is on watch, +lying in the boat, night and day. You couldn’t get rid of that watchman +except by cutting his throat or throwing him overboard by force. Consult +your own courage as to whether that can be done or not. And as far as my +coming with you is concerned, I shirk no danger which holds out any hopes +of success, but to throw away life without a reason, as if it were a +thing of no moment, is something which I do not believe that even you +would sanction--see what you think of this: I will wrap you up in two +hide baggage covers, tie you up with thongs, and stow you among my +clothing, as baggage, leaving the ends somewhat open, of course, so you +can breathe and get your food. Then I will raise a hue and cry because my +slaves have thrown themselves into the sea, fearing worse punishment; and +when the ship makes port, I will carry you out as baggage without +exciting the slightest suspicion!” “Oh! So you would bundle us up like +we were solid,” I sneered; “our bellies wouldn’t make trouble for us, of +course, and we’ll never sneeze nor snore! And all because a similar +trick turned out successfully before! Think the matter over! Being tied +up could be endured for one day, but suppose it might have to be for +longer? What if we should be becalmed? What if we were struck by a +storm from the wrong quarter of the heavens? What could we do then? +Even clothes will cut through at the wrinkles when they are tied up too +long, and paper in bundles will lose its shape. Do you imagine that we, +who are young and unused to hardship, could endure the filthy rags and +lashings necessary to such an operation, as statues do? No! That’s +settled! Some other road to safety must be found! I have thought up a +scheme, see what you think of it! Eumolpus is a man of letters. He will +have ink about him, of course. With this remedy, then, let’s change our +complexions, from hair to toe-nails! Then, in the guise of Ethiopian +slaves, we shall be ready at hand to wait upon you, light-hearted as +having escaped the torturer, and, with our altered complexions, we can +impose upon our enemies!” “Yes, indeed,” sneered Giton, “and be sure +and circumcise us, too, so we will be taken for Jews, pierce our ears so +we will look like Arabs, chalk our faces so that Gaul will take us for +her own sons; as if color alone could change one’s figure! As if many +other details did not require consideration if a passable imposture is to +result! Even granting that the stained face can keep its color for some +time, suppose that not a drop of water should spot the skin, suppose that +the garment did not stick to the ink, as it often does, where no gum is +used, tell me! We can’t make our lips so hideously thick, can we? We +can’t kink our hair with a curling-iron, can we? We can’t harrow our +foreheads with scars, can we? We can’t force our legs out into the form +of a bow or walk with our ankle-bones on the ground, can we? Can we trim +our beards after the foreign style? No! Artificial color dirties the +body without changing it. Listen to the plan which I have thought out in +my desperation; let’s tie our garments around our heads and throw +ourselves into the deep!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD. + +“Gods and men forbid that you should make so base an ending of your +lives,” cried Eumolpus. “No! It will be better to do as I direct. As +you may gather, from his razor, my servant is a barber: let him shave +your heads and eyebrows, too, and quickly at that! I will follow after +him, and I will mark my inscription so cleverly upon your foreheads that +you will be mistaken for slaves who have been branded! The same letters +will serve both to quiet the suspicions of the curious and to conceal, +under semblance of punishment, your real features!” We did not delay the +execution of this scheme but, sneaking stealthily to the ship’s side, we +submitted our heads and eyebrows to the barber, that he might shave them +clean. Eumolpus covered our foreheads completely, with large letters +and, with a liberal hand, spread the universally known mark of the +fugitive over the face of each of us. As luck would have it, one of the +passengers, who was terribly seasick, was hanging over the ship’s side +easing his stomach. He saw the barber busy at his unseasonable task by +the light of the moon and, cursing the omen which resembled the last +offering of a crew before shipwreck, he threw himself into his bunk. +Pretending not to hear his puking curses, we reverted to our melancholy +train of thought and, settling ourselves down in silence, we passed the +remaining hours of the night in fitful slumber. (On the following +morning Eumolpus entered Lycas’ cabin as soon as he knew that Tryphaena +was out of bed and, after some conversation upon the happy voyage of +which the fine weather gave promise, Lycas turned to Tryphaena and +remarked:) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTH. + +“Priapus appeared to me in a dream and seemed to say--Know that +Encolpius, whom you seek, has, by me, been led aboard your ship!” + Tryphaena trembled violently, “You would think we had slept together,” + she cried, “for a bust of Neptune, which I saw in the gallery at Baiae, +said to me, in my dream--You will find Giton aboard Lycas’ ship!” “From +which you can see that Epicurus was a man inspired,” remarked Eumolpus; +“he passed sentence upon mocking phantasms of that kind in a very witty +manner. + + Dreams that delude the mind with flitting shades + By neither powers of air nor gods, are sent: + Each makes his own! And when relaxed in sleep + The members lie, the mind, without restraint + Can flit, and re-enact by night, the deeds + That occupied the day. The warrior fierce, + Who cities shakes and towns destroys by fire + Maneuvering armies sees, and javelins, + And funerals of kings and bloody fields. + + The cringing lawyer dreams of courts and trials, + The miser hides his hoard, new treasures finds: + The hunter’s horn and hounds the forests wake, + The shipwrecked sailor from his hulk is swept. + Or, washed aboard, just misses perishing. + Adultresses will bribe, and harlots write + To lovers: dogs, in dreams their hare still course; + And old wounds ache most poignantly in dreams!” + +“Still, what’s to prevent our searching the ship?” said Lycas, after he +had expiated Tryphaena’s dream, “so that we will not be guilty of +neglecting the revelations of Providence?” “And who were the rascals who +were being shaved last night by the light of the moon?” chimed in Hesus, +unexpectedly, for that was the name of the fellow who had caught us at +our furtive transformation in the night. “A rotten thing to do, I swear! +From what I hear, it’s unlawful for any living man aboard ship to shed +hair or nails, unless the wind has kicked up a heavy sea.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH. + +Lycas was greatly disturbed by this information, and flew into a rage. +“So someone aboard my ship cut off his hair, did he?” he bawled, “and at +dead of night, too! Bring the offenders aft on deck here, and step +lively, so that I can tell whom to punish, from their heads, that the +ship may be freed from the curse!” “I ordered it done,” Eumolpus broke +in, “and I didn’t order it as an unlucky omen, either, seeing that I had +to be aboard the same vessel: I did it because the scoundrels had long +matted hair, I ordered the filth cleared off the wretches because I did +not wish to even seem to make a prison out of your ship: besides, I did +not want the seared scars of the letters to be hidden in the least, by +the interference of the hair; as they ought to be in plain sight, for +everyone to read, and at full length, too. In addition to their other +misdemeanors, they blew in my money on a street-walker whom they kept in +common; only last night I dragged them away from her, reeking with wine +and perfumes, as they were, and they still stink of the remnants of my +patrimony!” Thereupon, forty stripes were ordered for each of us, that +the tutelary genius of the ship might be propitiated. And they were not +long about it either. Eager to propitiate the tutelary genius with our +wretched blood, the savage sailors rushed upon us with their rope’s ends. +For my part, I endured three lashes with Spartan fortitude, but at the +very first blow, Giton set up such a howling that his all too familiar +voice reached the ears of Tryphaena; nor was she the only one who was in +a flutter, for, attracted by this familiar voice, all the maids rushed to +where he was being flogged. Giton had already moderated the ardor of the +sailors by his wonderful beauty, he appealed to his torturers without +uttering a word. “It’s Giton! It’s Giton!” the maids all screamed in +unison. “Hold your hands, you brutes; help, Madame, it’s Giton!” + Tryphaena turned willing ears, she had recognized that voice herself, and +flew to the boy. Lycas, who knew me as well as if he had heard my voice, +now ran up; he glanced at neither face nor hands, but directed his eyes +towards parts lower down; courteously he shook hands with them, “How do +you do, Encolpius,” he said. Let no one be surprised at Ulysses’ nurse +discovering, after twenty years, the scar that established his identity, +since this man, so keenly observant, had, in spite of the most skillful +disguise of every feature and the obliteration of every identifying mark +upon my body, so surely hit upon the sole means of identifying his +fugitive! Deceived by our appearance, Tryphaena wept bitterly, +believing that the marks upon our foreheads were, in truth, the brands +of prisoners: she asked us gently, into what slave’s prison we had fallen +in our wanderings, and whose cruel hands had inflicted this punishment. +Still, fugitives whose members had gotten them into trouble certainly +deserved some punishment. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTH. + +In a towering passion, Lycas leaped forward, “Oh you silly woman,” he +shouted, “as if those scars were made by the letters on the +branding-iron! If only they had really blotched up their foreheads with +those inscriptions, it would be some satisfaction to us, at least; but +as it is, we are being imposed upon by an actor’s tricks, and hoaxed by +a fake inscription!” Tryphaena was disposed to mercy, as all was not +lost for her pleasures, but Lycas remembered the seduction of his wife +and the insults to which he had been subjected in the portico of the +temple of Hercules: “Tryphaena,” he gritted out, his face convulsed with +savage passion, “you are aware, I believe, that the immortal gods have a +hand in human affairs: what did they do but lead these scoundrels aboard +this ship in ignorance of the owner and then warn each of us alike, by a +coincidence of dreams, of what they had done? Can you then see how it +would be possible to let off those whom a god has, himself, delivered up +to punishment? I am not a cruel man; what moves me is this: I am afraid +I shall have to endure myself whatever I remit to them!” At this +superstitious plea Tryphaena veered around; denying that she would +plead for quarter, she was even anxious to help along the fulfillment of +this retribution, so entirely just: she had herself suffered an insult +no less poignant than had Lycas, for her chastity had been called in +question before a crowd. + + Primeval Fear created Gods on earth when from the sky + The lightning-flashes rent with flame the ramparts of the world, + And smitten Athos blazed! Then, Phoebus, sinking to the earth, + His course complete, and waning Luna, offerings received. + The changing seasons of the year the superstition spread + Throughout the world; and Ignorance and Awe, the toiling boor, + To Ceres, from his harvest, the first fruits compelled to yield + And Bacchus with the fruitful vine to crown. Then Pales came + Into her own, the shepherd’s gains to share. Beneath the waves + Of every sea swims Neptune. Pallas guards the shops, + And those impelled by Avarice or Guilt, create new Gods! + +(Lycas, as he perceived that Tryphaena was as eager as himself for +revenge, gave orders for our punishment to be renewed and made more +drastic, whereupon Eumolpus endeavored to appease him as follows,) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTH. + +(“Lycas,” said he, “these unfortunates upon whom you intend to wreak your +vengeance, implore your compassion and) have chosen me for this task. +I believe that I am a man, by no means unknown, and they desire that, +somehow, I will effect a reconciliation between them and their former +friends. Surely you do not imagine that these young men fell into such +a snare by accident, when the very first thing that concerns every +prospective passenger is the name of the captain to whom he intrusts his +safety! Be reasonable, then; forego your revenge and permit free men to +proceed to their destination without injury. When penitence manages to +lead their fugitives back, harsh and implacable masters restrain their +cruelty, and we are merciful to enemies who have surrendered. What could +you ask, or wish for, more? These well-born and respectable young men +be suppliant before your eyes and, what ought to move you more strongly +still, were once bound to you by the ties of friendship. If they had +embezzled your money or repaid your faith in them with treachery, +by Hercules, you have ample satisfaction from the punishment already +inflicted! Look! Can you read slavery on their foreheads, and see upon +the faces of free men the brand-marks of a punishment which was +self-inflicted!” Lycas broke in upon this plea for mercy, “Don’t try to +confuse the issue,” he said, “let every detail have its proper attention +and first of all, why did they strip all the hair off their heads, +if they came of their own free will? A man meditates deceit, not +satisfaction, when he changes his features! Then again, if they sought +reconciliation through a mediator, why did you do your best to conceal +them while employed in their behalf? It is easily seen that the +scoundrels fell into the toils by chance and that you are seeking some +device by which you could sidestep the effects of our resentment. And be +careful that you do not spoil your case by over-confidence when you +attempt to sow prejudice among us by calling them well-born and +respectable! What should the injured parties do when the guilty run into +their own punishment? And inasmuch as they were our friends, by that, +they deserve more drastic punishment still, for whoever commits an +assault upon a stranger, is termed a robber; but whoever assaults a +friend, is little better than a parricide!” “I am well aware,” Eumolpus +replied, to rebut this damning harangue, “that nothing can look blacker +against these poor young men than their cutting off their hair at night. +On this evidence, they would seem to have come aboard by accident, not +voluntarily. Oh how I wish that the explanation could come to your ears +just as candidly as the thing itself happened! They wanted to relieve +their heads of that annoying and useless weight before they came aboard, +but the unexpected springing up of the wind prevented the carrying out of +their wishes, and they did not imagine that it mattered where they began +what they had decided to do, because they were unacquainted with either +the omens or the law of seafaring men.” “But why should they shave +themselves like suppliants?” demanded Lycas, “unless, of course, they +expected to arouse more sympathy as bald-pates. What’s the use of +seeking information through a third person, anyway? You scoundrel, what +have you to say for yourself? What salamander singed off your eyebrows? +You poisoner, what god did you vow your hair to? Answer!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTH. + +I was stricken dumb, and trembled from fear of punishment, nor could I +find anything to say, out of countenance as I was and hideous, for to the +disgrace of a shaven poll was added an equal baldness in the matter of +eyebrows; the case against me was only too plain, there was not a thing +to be said or done! Finally, a damp sponge was passed over my tear-wet +face, and thereupon, the smut dissolved and spread over my whole +countenance, blotting out every feature in a sooty cloud. Anger turned +into loathing. Swearing that he would permit no one to humiliate +well-born young men contrary to right and law, Eumolpus checked the +threats of the savage persecutors by word and by deed. His hired +servant backed him up in his protest, as did first one and then another +of the feeblest of the seasick passengers, whose participation served +rather to inflame the disagreement than to be of help to us. For myself +I asked no quarter, but I shook my fists in Tryphaena’s face, and told +her in a loud voice that unless she stopped hurting Giton, I would use +every ounce of my strength against her, reprobate woman that she was, +the only person aboard the ship who deserved a flogging. Lycas was +furiously angry at my hardihood, nor was he less enraged at my +abandoning my own cause, to take up that of another, in so wholehearted +a manner. Inflamed as she was by this affront, Tryphaena was as furious +as he, so the whole ship’s company was divided into two factions. On +our side, the hired barber armed himself with a razor and served out the +others to us; on their side, Tryphaena’s retainers prepared to battle +with their bare fists, nor was the scolding of female warriors unheard +in the battle-line. The pilot was neutral, but he declared that unless +this madness, stirred up by the lechery of a couple of vagabonds, died +down, he would let go the helm! The fury of the combatants continued to +rage none the less fiercely, nevertheless, they fighting for revenge, we +for life. Many fell on each side, though none were mortally wounded, +and more, bleeding from wounds, retreated, as from a real battle, but +the fury of neither side abated. At last the gallant Giton turned the +menacing razor against his own virile parts, and threatened to cut away +the cause of so many misfortunes. This was too much for Tryphaena; she +prevented the perpetration of so horrid a crime by the out and out +promise of quarter. Time and time again, I lifted the barber’s blade to +my throat, but I had no more intention of killing myself than had Giton +of doing what he threatened, but he acted out the tragic part more +realistically than I, as it was, because he knew that he held in his +hand the same razor with which he had already cut his throat. The lines +still stood at the ready, and it was plain to be seen that this would be +no everyday affair, when the pilot, with difficulty, prevailed upon +Tryphaena to undertake the office of herald, and propose a truce; so, +when pledges of good faith had been given and received, in keeping with +the ancient precedent she snatched an olive-branch from the ship’s +figurehead and, holding it out, advanced boldly to parley. + + “What fury,” she exclaims, “turns peace to war? What evil deed + Was by these hands committed? Trojan hero there is none + Absconding in this ship with bride of Atreus’ cuckold seed + Nor crazed Medea, stained by life’s blood of her father’s son! + But passion scorned, becomes a power: alas! who courts his end + By drawing sword amidst these waves? Why die before our time? + Strive not with angry seas to vie and to their fury lend + Your rage by piling waves upon its savage floods sublime !” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND NINTH. + +The woman poured out this rhapsody in a loud excited voice, the +battle-line wavered for an instant, then all hands were recalled to +peace and terminated the war. Eumolpus, our commander, took advantage +of the psychological moment of their repentance and, after administering +a stinging rebuke to Lycas, signed a treaty of peace which was drawn up +as follows: “It is hereby solemnly agreed on your part, Tryphaena, that +you do forego complaint of any wrong done you by Giton; that you do not +bring up anything that has taken place prior to this date, that you do +not seek to revenge anything that has taken place prior to this date, +that you do not take steps to follow it up in any other manner +whatsoever; that you do not command the boy to perform anything to him +repugnant; that you do neither embrace nor kiss the said Giton; that you +do not enfold said Giton in the sexual embrace, except under immediate +forfeiture of one hundred denarii. Item, it is hereby agreed on your +part, Lycas, that you do refrain from annoying Encolpius with abusive +word or reproachful look; that you do not seek to ascertain where he +sleep at night; or, if you do so seek, that you forfeit two hundred +denarii immediately for each and every such offense.” The treaty was +signed upon these terms, and we laid down our arms. It seemed well to +wipe out the past with kisses, after we had taken oath, for fear any +vestige of rancor should persist in our minds. Factious hatreds died +out amidst universal good-fellowship, and a banquet, served on the field +of battle, crowned our reconciliation with joviality. The whole ship +resounded with song and, as a sudden calm had caused her to lose +headway, one tried to harpoon the leaping fish, another hauled in the +struggling catch on baited hooks. Then some sea-birds alighted upon the +yard-arms and a skillful fowler touched them with his jointed rods: they +were brought down to our hands, stuck fast to the limed segments. The +breeze caught up the down, but the wing and tail feathers twisted +spirally as they fell into the sea-foam. Lycas was already beginning to +be on good terms with me, and Tryphaena had just sprinkled Giton with +the last drops in her cup, when Eumolpus, who was himself almost drunk, +was seized with the notion of satirizing bald pates and branded rascals, +but when he had exhausted his chilly wit, he returned at last to his +poetry and recited this little elegy upon hair: + + “Gone are those locks that to thy beauty lent such lustrous charm + And blighted are the locks of Spring by bitter Winter’s sway; + Thy naked temples now in baldness mourn their vanished form, + And glistens now that poor bare crown, its hair all worn away + Oh! Faithless inconsistency! The gods must first resume + The charms that first they granted youth, that it might lovelier + bloom! + Poor wretch, but late thy locks did brighter glister + Than those of great Apollo or his sister! + Now, smoother is thy crown than polished grasses + Or rounded mushrooms when a shower passes! + In fear thou fliest the laughter-loving lasses. + That thou may’st know that Death is on his way, + Know that thy head is partly dead this day!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TENTH. + +It is my opinion that he intended favoring us with more of the same kind +of stuff, sillier than the last, but Tryphaena’s maid led Giton away +below and fitted the lad out in her mistress’ false curls; then producing +some eyebrows from a vanity box, she skillfully traced out the lines of +the lost features and restored him to his proper comeliness. Recognizing +the real Giton, Tryphaena was moved to tears, and then for the first time +she gave the boy a real love-kiss. I was overjoyed, now that the lad was +restored to his own handsome self, but I hid my own face all the more +assiduously, realizing that I was disfigured by no ordinary hideousness +since not even Lycas would bestow a word upon me. The maid rescued me +from this misfortune finally, however, and calling me aside, she decked +me out with a head of hair which was none the less becoming; my face +shone more radiantly still, as a matter of fact, for my curls were +golden! But in a little while, Eumolpus, mouthpiece of the distressed +and author of the present good understanding, fearing that the general +good humor might flag for lack of amusement, began to indulge in sneers +at the fickleness of women: how easily they fell in love; how readily +they forgot even their own sons! No woman could be so chaste but that +she could be roused to madness by a chance passion! Nor had he need to +quote from old tragedies, or to have recourse to names, notorious for +centuries; on the contrary, if we cared to hear it, he would relate an +incident which had occurred within his own memory, whereupon, as we all +turned our faces towards him and gave him our attention, he began as +follows: + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVENTH. + +“There was a certain married lady at Ephesus, once upon a time, so noted +for her chastity that she even drew women from the neighboring states to +come to gaze upon her! When she carried out her husband she was by no +means content to comply with the conventional custom and follow the +funeral cortege with her hair down, beating her naked breast in sight of +the onlookers! She followed the corpse, even into the tomb; and when the +body had been placed in the vault, in accordance with the Greek custom, +she began to stand vigil over it, weeping day and night! Neither parents +nor relations could divert her from punishing herself in this manner and +from bringing on death by starvation. The magistrates, the last resort, +were rebuffed and went away, and the lady, mourned by all as an unusual +example, dragged through the fifth day without nourishment. A most +faithful maid was in attendance upon the poor woman; she either wept in +company with the afflicted one or replenished the lamp which was placed +in the vault, as the occasion required. Throughout the whole city there +was but one opinion, men of every calling agreed that here shone the one +solitary example of chastity and of love! In the meantime the governor +of the province had ordered some robbers crucified near the little vault +in which the lady was bewailing her recent loss. On the following night, +a soldier who was standing guard over the crosses for fear someone might +drag down one of the bodies for burial, saw a light shining brightly +among the tombs, and heard the sobs of someone grieving. A weakness +common to mankind made him curious to know who was there and what was +going on, so he descended into the tomb and, catching sight of a most +beautiful woman, he stood still, afraid at first that it was some +apparition or spirit from the infernal regions; but he finally +comprehended the true state of affairs as his eye took in the corpse +lying there, and as he noted the tears and the face lacerated by the +finger-nails, he understood that the lady was unable to endure the loss +of the dear departed. He then brought his own scanty ration into the +vault and exhorted the sobbing mourner not to persevere in useless grief, +or rend her bosom with unavailing sobs; the same end awaited us all, the +same last resting place: and other platitudes by which anguished minds +are recalled to sanity. But oblivious to sympathy, she beat and +lacerated her bosom more vehemently than before and, tearing out her +hair, she strewed it upon the breast of the corpse. Notwithstanding +this, the soldier would not leave off, but persisted in exhorting the +unfortunate lady to eat, until the maid, seduced by the smell of the +wine, I suppose, was herself overcome and stretched out her hand to +receive the bounty of their host. Refreshed by food and drink, she +then began to attack the obstinacy of her mistress. ‘What good will it +do you to die of hunger?’ she asked, ‘or to bury yourself alive’? Or to +surrender an uncondemned spirit before the fates demand it? ‘Think you +the ashes or sepultured dead can feel aught of thy woe! Would you recall +the dead from the reluctant fates? Why not shake off this womanish +weakness and enjoy the blessings of light while you can? The very corpse +lying there ought to convince you that your duty is to live!’ When +pressed to eat or to live, no one listens unwillingly, and the lady, +thirsty after an abstinence of several days, finally permitted her +obstinacy to be overcome; nor did she take her fill of nourishment +with less avidity than had the maid who had surrendered first.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWELFTH. + +“But to make a long story short, you know the temptations that beset a +full stomach: the soldier laid siege to her virtue with the selfsame +blandishments by which he had persuaded her that she ought to live. Nor, +to her modest eye, did the young man seem uncouth or wanting in address. +The maid pled in his behalf and kept repeating: + + Why will you fight with a passion that to you is pleasure, + Remembering not in whose lands you are taking your leisure? + +“But why should I keep you longer in suspense? The lady observed the +same abstinence when it came to this part of her body, and the victorious +soldier won both of his objectives; so they lay together, not only +that night, in which they pledged their vows, but also the next, and even +the third, shutting the doors of the vault, of course, so that anyone, +acquaintance or stranger, coming to the tomb, would be convinced that +this most virtuous of wives had expired upon the body of her husband. As +for the soldier, so delighted was he with the beauty of his mistress and +the secrecy of the intrigue, that he purchased all the delicacies his pay +permitted and smuggled them into the vault as soon as darkness fell. +Meanwhile, the parents of one of the crucified criminals, observing the +laxness of the watch, dragged the hanging corpse down at night and +performed the last rite. The soldier was hoodwinked while absent from +his post of duty, and when on the following day he caught sight of one of +the crosses without its corpse, he was in terror of punishment and +explained to the lady what had taken place: He would await no sentence of +court-martial, but would punish his neglect of duty with his own sword! +Let her prepare a place for one about to die, let that fatal vault serve +both the lover and the husband! ‘Not that,’ cried out the lady, no less +merciful than chaste, ‘the gods forbid that I should look at the same +time upon the corpses of the two men dearest to me; I would rather hang +the dead than slay the living!’ So saying, she gave orders for the body +of her husband to be lifted out of the coffin and fastened upon the +vacant cross! The soldier availed himself of the expedient suggested by +this very ingenious lady and next day everyone wondered how a dead man +had found his way to the cross!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEENTH. + +The sailors received this tale with roars of laughter, and Tryphaena +blushed not a little and laid her face amorously upon Giton’s neck. But +Lycas did not laugh; “If that governor had been a just man,” said he, +shaking his head angrily, “he would have ordered the husband’s body taken +down and carried back into the vault, and crucified the woman.” No doubt +the memory of Hedyle haunted his mind, and the looting of his ship in +that wanton excursion. But the terms of the treaty permitted the +harboring of no old grudges and the joy which filled our hearts left no +room for anger. Tryphaena was lying in Giton’s lap by this time, +covering his bosom with kisses one minute and rearranging the curls upon +his shaven head the next. Uneasy and chagrined at this new league, I +took neither food nor drink but looked askance at them both, with grim +eyes. Every kiss was a wound to me, every artful blandishment which the +wanton woman employed, and I could not make up my mind as to whether I +was more angered at the boy for having supplanted me with my mistress, or +at my mistress for debauching the boy: both were hateful to my sight, and +more galling than my late servitude. And to make the matter all the more +aggravating, Tryphaena would not even greet me as an acquaintance, whom +she had formerly received as a lover, while Giton did not think me worthy +of a “Here’s-to-you” in ordinary civility, nor even speak to me in the +course of the common conversation; I suppose he was afraid of reopening a +tender scar at the moment when a return to her good graces had commenced +to draw it together. Tears of vexation dropped upon my breast and the +groan I smothered in a sigh nearly wracked my soul. + + The vulture tearing; at the liver’s deep and vital parts, + That wracks our breasts and rends our very heartstrings + Is not that bird the charming poet sings with all his arts; + ‘T’is jealousy or hate that human hearts stings. + +(In spite of my ill-humor, Lycas saw how well my golden curls became me +and, becoming enamoured anew, began winking his wanton eyes at me and) +sought admission to my good graces upon a footing of pleasure, nor did he +put on the arrogance of a master, but spoke as a friend asking a favor; +(long and ardently he tried to gain his ends, but all in vain, till at +last, meeting with a decisive repulse, his passion turned to fury and he +tried to carry the place by storm; but Tryphaena came in unexpectedly and +caught him in his wanton attempt, whereupon he was greatly upset and +hastily adjusted his clothing and bolted out of the cabin. Tryphaena was +fired with lust at this sight, “What was Lycas up to?” she demanded. +“What was he after in that ardent assault?” She compelled me to explain, +burned still more hotly at what she heard, and, recalling memories of our +past familiarities, she desired me to renew our old amour, but I was worn +out with so much venery and slighted her advances. She was burning up +with desire by this time, and threw her arms around me in a frenzied +embrace, hugging me so tightly that I uttered an involuntary cry of pain. +One of her maids rushed in at this and, thinking that I was attempting to +force from her mistress the very favor which I had refused her, she +sprang at us and tore us apart. Thoroughly enraged at the disappointment +of her lecherous passion, Tryphaena upbraided me violently, and with many +threats she hurried out to find Lycas for the purpose of exasperating him +further against me and of joining forces with him to be revenged upon me. +Now you must know that I had formerly held a very high place in this +waiting-maid’s esteem, while I was prosecuting my intrigue with her +mistress, and for that reason she took it very hard when she surprised me +with Tryphaena, and sobbed very bitterly. I pressed her earnestly to tell +me the reason for her sobs) {and after pretending to be reluctant she +broke out:} “You will think no more of her than of a common prostitute if +you have a drop of decent blood in your veins! You will not resort to +that female catamite, if you are a man!” {This disturbed my mind but} +what exercised me most was the fear that Eumolpus would find out what +was going on and, being a very sarcastic individual, might revenge my +supposed injury in some poetic lampoon, (in which event his ardent zeal +would without doubt expose me to ridicule, and I greatly dreaded that. +But while I was debating with myself as to the best means of preventing +him from getting at the facts, who should suddenly come in but the man +himself; and he was not uninformed as to what had taken place, for +Tryphaena had related all the particulars to Giton and had tried to +indemnify herself for my repulse, at the expense of my little friend. +Eumolpus was furiously angry because of all this, and all the more so as +lascivious advances were in open violation of the treaty which had been +signed. The minute the old fellow laid eyes upon me, he began bewailing +my lot and ordered me to tell him exactly what had happened. As he was +already well informed, I told him frankly of Lycas’ lecherous attempt and +of Tryphaena’s wanton assault. When he had heard all the facts,) +Eumolpus swore roundly (that he would certainly avenge us, as the Gods +were just and would not suffer so many villainies to go unpunished.) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEENTH. + +We were still discussing this and other matters when the sea grew rough, +and clouds, gathering from every quarter, obscured with darkness the +light of day. The panic-stricken sailors ran to their stations and took +in sail before the squall was upon them, but the gale did not drive the +waves in any one direction and the helmsman lost his bearings and did not +know what course to steer. At one moment the wind would set towards +Sicily, but the next, the North Wind, prevailing on the Italian coast, +would drive the unlucky vessel hither and yon; and, what was more +dangerous than all the rain-squalls, a pall of such black density blotted +out the light that the helmsman could not even see as far forward as the +bow. At last, as the savage fury of the sea grew more malignant, the +trembling Lycas stretched out his hands to me imploringly. “Save us from +destruction, Encolpius,” he shouted; “restore that sacred robe and holy +rattle to the ship! Be merciful, for heaven’s sake, just as you used to +be!” He was still shouting when a windsquall swept him into the sea; the +raging elements whirled him around and around in a terrible maelstrom and +sucked him down. Tryphaena, on the other hand, was seized by her +faithful servants, placed in a skiff, along with the greater part of her +belongings, and saved from certain death. Embracing Giton, I wept aloud: +“Did we deserve this from the gods,” I cried, “to be united only in +death? No! Malignant fortune grudges even that. Look! In an instant +the waves will capsize the ship! Think! In an instant the sea will +sever this lover’s embrace! If you ever loved Encolpius truly, kiss him +while yet you may and snatch this last delight from impending +dissolution!” Even as I was speaking, Giton removed his garment and, +creeping beneath my tunic, he stuck out his head to be kissed; then, +fearing some more spiteful wave might separate us as we clung together, +he passed his belt around us both. “If nothing else,” he cried, “the sea +will at least bear us longer, joined together, and if, in pity, it casts +us up upon the same shore, some passerby may pile some stones over us, +out of common human kindness, or the last rites will be performed by the +drifting sand, in spite of the angry waves.” I submit to this last bond +and, as though I were laid out upon my death-bed, await an end no longer +dreaded. Meanwhile, accomplishing the decrees of the Fates, the storm +stripped the ship of all that was left; no mast, no helm, not a rope nor +an oar remained on board her; she was only a derelict, heavy and +water-logged, drifting before the waves. Some fishermen hastily put off +in their little boats to salvage their booty, but, seeing men alive and +ready to defend their property, they changed their predatory designs into +offers of help. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEENTH. + +Just then, amid that clamor of voices we heard a peculiar noise, and from +beneath the captain’s cabin there came a bellowing as of some wild beast +trying to get out. We then followed up the sound and discovered +Eumolpus, sitting there scribbling verses upon an immense sheet of +parchment! Astounded that he could find time to write poetry at death’s +very door, we hauled him out, in spite of his protests, and ordered him +to return to his senses, but he flew into a rage at being interrupted; +“Leave me alone until I finish this sentence,” he bawled; “the poem +labors to its birth.” Ordering Giton to come to close quarters and help +me drag the bellowing bard ashore, I laid hands upon the lunatic. When +this job had at last been completed, we came, wet and wretched, to a +fisherman’s hut and refreshed ourselves somewhat with stores from the +wreck, spoiled though they were by salt water, and passed a night that +was almost interminable. As we were holding a council, next day, to +determine to what part of the country we had best proceed, I suddenly +caught sight of a human body, turning around in a gentle eddy and +floating towards the shore. Stricken with melancholy, I stood still and +began to brood, with wet eyes, upon the treachery of the sea. “And +perhaps,” said I, “a wife, safe in some far-away country of the earth, +awaits this man, or a son who little dreams of storms or wrecks; or +perhaps he left behind a father, whom he kissed good-by at parting! Such +is the end of mortal’s plans, such is the outcome of great ambitions! +See how man rides the waves!” Until now, I had been sorrowing for a mere +stranger, but a wave turned the face, which had undergone no change, +towards the shore, and I recognized Lycas; so evil-tempered and so +unrelenting but a short time before, now cast up almost at my feet! I +could no longer restrain the tears, at this; I beat my breast again and +yet again, with my hands. “Where is your evil temper now?” I cried. +“Where is your unbridled passion? You be there, a prey to fish and wild +beasts, you who boasted but a little while ago of the strength of your +command. Now you have not a single plank left of your great ship! Go +on, mortals; set your hearts upon the fulfillment of great ambitions: Go +on, schemers, and in your wills control for a thousand years the disposal +of the wealth you got by fraud! Only yesterday this man audited the +accounts of his family estate, yea, even reckoned the day he would arrive +in his native land and settled it in his mind! Gods and goddesses, how +far he lies from his appointed destination! But the waves of the sea are +not alone in thus keeping faith with mortal men: The warrior’s weapons +fail him; the citizen is buried beneath the ruins of his own penates, +when engaged in paying his vows to the gods; another falls from his +chariot and dashes out his ardent spirit; the glutton chokes at dinner; +the niggard starves from abstinence. Give the dice a fair throw and you +will find shipwreck everywhere! Ah, but one overwhelmed by the waves +obtains no burial! As though it matters in what manner the body, once it +is dead, is consumed: by fire, by flood, by time! Do what you will, +these all achieve the same end. Ah, but the beasts will mangle the body! +As though fire would deal with it any more gently; when we are angry with +our slaves that is the punishment which we consider the most severe. +What folly it is, then, to do everything we can to prevent the grave from +leaving any part of us behind {when the Fates will look out for us, even +against our wills.”} (After these reflections we made ready to pay the +last rites to the corpse,) and Lycas was burned upon a funeral pyre +raised by the hands of enemies, while Eumolpus, fixing his eyes upon the +far distance to gain inspiration, composed an epitaph for the dead man: + + HIS FATE WAS UNAVOIDABLE + + NO ROCK-HEWN TOMB NOR SCULPTURED MARBLE HIS, + + HIS NOBLE CORPSE FIVE FEET OF EARTH RECEIVED, + + HE RESTS IN PEACE BENEATH THIS HUMBLE MOUND. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEENTH. + +We set out upon our intended journey, after this last office had been +wholeheartedly performed, and, in a little while, arrived, sweating, at +the top of a mountain, from which we made out, at no great distance, a +town, perched upon the summit of a lofty eminence. Wanderers as we were, +we had no idea what town it could be, until we learned from a caretaker +that it was Crotona, a very ancient city, and once the first in Italy. +When we earnestly inquired, upon learning this, what men inhabited such +historic ground, and the nature of the business in which they were +principally engaged, now that their wealth had been dissipated by the oft +recurring wars, “My friends,” replied he, “if you are men of business, +change your plans and seek out some other conservative road to a +livelihood, but if you can play the part of men of great culture, always +ready with a lie, you are on the straight road to riches: The study of +literature is held in no estimation in that city, eloquence has no niche +there, economy and decent standards of morality come into no reward of +honor there; you must know that every man whom you will meet in that city +belongs to one of two factions; they either ‘take-in,’ or else they are +‘taken-in.’ No one brings up children in that city, for the reason that +no one who has heirs is invited to dinner or admitted to the games; such +an one is deprived of all enjoyments and must lurk with the rabble. On +the other hand, those who have never married a wife, or those who have no +near relatives, attain to the very highest honors; in other words, they +are the only ones who are considered soldierly, or the bravest of the +brave, or even good. You will see a town which resembles the fields in +time of pestilence,” he continued, “in which there is nothing but +carcasses to be torn at and carrion crows tearing at them.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEENTH. + +Eumolpus, who had a deeper insight, turned this state of affairs over in +his mind and declared that he was not displeased with a prospect of that +kind. I thought the old fellow was joking in the care-free way of poets, +until he complained, “If I could only put up a better front! I mean that +I wish my clothing was in better taste, that my jewelry was more +expensive; all this would lend color to my deception: I would not carry +this scrip, by Hercules, I would not I would lead you all to great +riches!” For my part, I undertook to supply whatever my companion in +robbery had need of, provided he would be satisfied with the garment, and +with whatever spoils the villa of Lycurgus had yielded when we robbed it; +as for money against present needs, the Mother of the Gods would see to +that, out of regard to her own good name! “Well, what’s to prevent our +putting on an extravaganza?” demanded Eumolpus. “Make me the master if +the business appeals to you.” No one ventured to condemn a scheme by +which he could lose nothing, and so, that the lie would be kept safe +among us all, we swore a solemn oath, the words of which were dictated by +Eumolpus, to endure fire, chains, flogging, death by the sword, and +whatever else Eumolpus might demand of us, just like regular gladiators! +After the oath had been taken, we paid our respects to our master with +pretended servility, and were informed that Eumolpus had lost a son, a +young man of great eloquence and promise, and that it was for this reason +the poor old man had left his native land that he might not see the +companions and clients of his son, nor even his tomb, which was the cause +of his daily tears. To this misfortune a recent shipwreck had been +added, in which he had lost upwards of two millions of sesterces; not +that he minded the loss but, destitute of a train of servants he could +not keep up his proper dignity! Furthermore, he had, invested in Africa, +thirty millions of sesterces in estates and bonds; such a horde of his +slaves was scattered over the fields of Numidia that he could have even +sacked Carthage! We demanded that Eumolpus cough frequently, to further +this scheme, that he have trouble with his stomach and find fault with +all the food when in company, that he keep talking of gold and silver and +estates, the incomes from which were not what they should be, and of the +everlasting unproductiveness of the soil; that he cast up his accounts +daily, that he revise the terms of his will monthly, and, for fear any +detail should be lacking to make the farce complete, he was to use the +wrong names whenever he wished to summon any of us, so that it would be +plain to all that the master had in mind some who were not present. When +everything had been thus provided for, we offered a prayer to the gods +“that the matter might turn out well and happily,” and took to the road. +But Giton could not bear up under his unaccustomed load, and the hired +servant Corax, a shirker of work, often put down his own load and cursed +our haste, swearing that he would either throw his packs away or run away +with his load. “What do you take me for, a beast of burden?” he +grumbled, “or a scow for carrying stone? I hired out to do the work of a +man, not that of a pack-horse, and I’m as free as you are, even if my +father did leave me poor!” Not satisfied with swearing, he lifted up his +leg from time to time and filled the road with an obscene noise and a +filthy stench. Giton laughed at his impudence and imitated every +explosion with his lips, {but Eumolpus relapsed into his usual vein, even +in spite of this.} + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEENTH. + +“Young men,” said he, “many are they who have been seduced by poetry; +for, the instant a man has composed a verse in feet, and has woven a more +delicate meaning into it by means of circumlocutions, he straightway +concludes that he has scaled Helicon! Take those who are worn out by the +distressing detail of the legal profession, for example: they often seek +sanctuary in the tranquillity of poetry, as a more sheltered haven, +believing themselves able more easily to compose a poem than a rebuttal +charged with scintillating epigrams! But a more highly cultivated mind +loves not this conceited affectation, nor can it either conceive or bring +forth, unless it has been steeped in the vast flood of literature. Every +word that is what I would call ‘low,’ ought to be avoided, and phrases +far removed from plebeian usage should be chosen. Let ‘Ye rabble rout +avaunt,’ be your rule. In addition, care should be exercised in +preventing the epigrams from standing out from the body of the speech; +they should gleam with the brilliancy woven into the fabric. Homer is an +example, and the lyric poets, and our Roman Virgil, and the exquisite +propriety of Horace. Either the others did not discover the road that +leads to poetry, or, having seen, they feared to tread it. Whoever +attempts that mighty theme, the civil war, for instance, will sink under +the load unless he is saturated with literature. Events, past and +passing, ought not to be merely recorded in verse, the historian will +deal with them far better; by means of circumlocutions and the +intervention of the immortals, the free spirit, wracked by the search for +epigrams having a mythological illusion, should plunge headlong and +appear as the prophecy of a mind inspired rather than the attested faith +of scrupulous exactitude in speech. This hasty composition may please +you, even though it has not yet received its final polishing:” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEENTH. + + “The conquering Roman now held the whole world in his sway, + + The ocean, the land; where the sun shone by day or the moon + + Gleamed by night: but unsated was he. And the seas + + Were roiled by the weight of his deep-laden keels; if a bay + + Lay hidden beyond, or a land which might yield yellow gold + + ‘Twas held as a foe. While the struggle for treasure went on + + The fates were preparing the horrors and scourges of war. + + Amusements enjoyed by the vulgar no longer can charm + + Nor pleasures worn threadbare by use of the plebeian mob. + + The bronzes of Corinth are praised by the soldier at sea; + + And glittering gems sought in earth, vie with purple of Tyre; + + Numidia curses her here, there, the exquisite silks + + Of China; Arabia’s people have stripped their own fields. + + Behold other woes and calamities outraging peace! + + Wild beasts, in the forest are hunted, for gold; and remote + + African hammon is covered by beaters, for fear + + Some beast that slays men with his teeth shall escape, for by that + + His value to men is enhanced! The vessels receive + + Strange ravening monsters; the tiger behind gilded bars + + And pacing his cage is transported to Rome, that his jaws + + May drip with the life blood of men to the plaudits of men + + Oh shame! To point out our impending destruction; the crime + + Of Persia enacted anew; in his puberty’s bloom + + The man child is kidnapped; surrenders his powers to the knife, + + Is forced to the calling of Venus; delayed and hedged round + + The hurrying passage of life’s finest years is held back + + And Nature seeks Nature but finds herself not. Everywhere + + These frail-limbed and mincing effeminates, flowing of locks, + + Bedecked with an infinite number of garments of silk + + Whose names ever change, the wantons and lechers to snare, + + Are eagerly welcomed! From African soil now behold + + The citron-wood tables; their well-burnished surface reflects + + Our Tyrian purples and slaves by the horde, and whose spots + + Resemble the gold that is cheaper than they and ensnare + + Extravagance. Sterile and ignobly prized is the wood + + But round it is gathered a company sodden with wine; + + And soldiers of fortune whose weapons have rusted, devour + + The spoils of the world. Art caters to appetite. Wrasse + + From Sicily brought to their table, alive in his own Sea water. + + The oysters from Lucrine’s shore torn, at the feast + + Are served to make famous the host; and the appetite, cloyed, + + To tempt by extravagance. Phasis has now been despoiled + + Of birds, its littoral silent, no sound there is heard + + Save only the wind as it rustles among the last leaves. + + Corruption no less vile is seen in the campus of Mars, + + Our quirites are bribed; and for plunder and promise of gain + + Their votes they will alter. The people is venal; corrupt + + The Senate; support has its price! And the freedom and worth + + Of age is decayed, scattered largesse now governs their power; + + Corrupted by gold, even dignity lies in the dust. + + Cato defeated and hooted by mobs, but the victor + + Is sadder, ashamed to have taken the rods from a Cato: + + In this lay the shame of the nation and character’s downfall, + + ‘Twas not the defeat of a man! No! The power and the glory + + Of Rome were brought low; represented in him was the honor + + Of sturdy Republican Rome. So, abandoned and wretched, + + The city has purchased dishonor: has purchased herself! + + Despoiled by herself, no avenger to wipe out the stigma + + Twin maelstroms of debt and of usury suck down the commons. + + No home with clear title, no citizen free from a mortgage, + + But as some slow wasting disease all unheralded fastens + + Its hold on the vitals, destroying the vigor of manhood, + + So, fear of the evils impending, impels them to madness. + + Despair turns to violence, luxury’s ravages needs must + + Repaired be by bloodshed, for indigence safely can venture. + + Can art or sane reason rouse wallowing Rome from the offal + + And break the voluptuous slumber in which she is sunken? + + Or must it be fury and war and the blood-lust of daggers?” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTIETH. + + “Three chieftains did fortune bring forth, whom the fury of battles + + Destroyed; and interred, each one under a mountain of weapons; + + The Parthian has Crassus, Pompeius the Great by the waters + + Of Egypt lies. Julius, ungrateful Rome stained with his life blood. + + And earth has divided their ashes, unable to suffer + + The weight of so many tombs. These are the wages of glory! + + There lies between Naples and Great Puteoli, a chasm + + Deep cloven, and Cocytus churns there his current; the vapor + + In fury escapes from the gorge with that lethal spray laden. + + No green in the aututun is there, no grass gladdens the meadow, + + The supple twigs never resound with the twittering singing + + Of birds in the Springtime. But chaos, volcanic black boulders + + Of pumice lie Happy within their drear setting of cypress. + + Amidst these infernal surroundings the ruler of Hades + + Uplifted his head by the funeral flames silhouetted + + And sprinkled with white from the ashes of corpses; and challenged + + Winged Fortune in words such as these: ‘Oh thou fickle controller + + Of things upon earth and in heaven, security’s foeman, + + Oh Chance! Oh thou lover eternally faithful to change, and + + Possession’s betrayer, dost own thyself crushed by the power + + Of Rome? Canst not raise up the tottering mass to its downfall + + Its strength the young manhood of Rome now despises, and staggers + + In bearing the booty heaped up by its efforts: behold how + + They lavish their spoils! Wealth run mad now brings down their + destruction. + + They build out of gold and their palaces reach to the heavens; + + The sea is expelled by their moles and their pastures are oceans; + + They war against Nature in changing the state of creation. + + They threaten my kingdom! Earth yawns with their tunnels deep + driven + + To furnish the stone for their madmen’s foundations; already + + The mountains are hollowed and now but re-echoing caverns; + + While man quarries marble to serve his vainglorious purpose + + The spirits infernal confess that they hope to win Heaven! + + Arise, then, O Chance, change thy countenance peaceful to warlike + + And harry the Romans, consign to my kingdom the fallen. + + Ah, long is it now since my lips were with blood cooled and + moistened, + + Nor has my Tisiphone bathed her blood-lusting body + + Since Sulla’s sword drank to repletion and earth’s bristling harvest + + Grew ripe upon blood and thrust up to the light of the sunshine!’” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIRST. + + “He spake ... and attempted to clasp the right hand of Fortuna, + + But ruptured the crust of the earth, deeply cloven, asunder. + + Then from her capricious heart Fortune made answer: ‘O father + + Whom Cocytus’ deepest abysses obey, if to forecast + + The future I may, without fear, thy petition shall prosper; + + For no less consuming the anger that wars in this bosom, + + The flame no less poignant, that burns to my marrow All favors + + I gave to the bulwarks of Rome, now, I hate them. My + + Gifts I repent! The same God who built up their dominion + + Shall bring down destruction upon it. In burning their manhood + + My heart shall delight and its blood-lust shall slake with their + slaughter. + + Now Philippi’s field I can see strewn with dead of two battles + + And Thessaly’s funeral pyres and Iberia mourning. + + Already the clangor of arms thrills my ears, and rings loudly: + + Thou, Lybian Nile, I can see now thy barriers groaning + + And Actium’s gulf and Apollo’s darts quailing the warriors! + + Then, open thy thirsty dominions and summon fresh spirits; + + For scarce will the ferryman’s strength be sufficient to carry + + The souls of the dead in his skiff: ‘tis a fleet that is needed! + + Thou, Pallid Tisiphone, slake with wide ruin, thy thirsting + + And tear ghastly wounds: mangled earth sinks to hell and the + spirits.’” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND. + + “But scarce had she finished, when trembled the clouds; and a + gleaming + + Bright flash of Jove’s lightning transfixed them with flame and was + gone. + + The Lord of the Shades blanched with fear, at this bolt of his + brother’s, + + Sank back, and drew closely together the gorge in Earth’s bosom. + + By auspices straightway the slaughter of men and the evils + + Impending are shown by the gods. Here, the Titan unsightly + + Blood red, veils his face with a twilight; on strife fratricidal + + Already he gazed, thou hadst thought! There, silvery Cynthia + + Obscuring her face at the full, denied light to the outrage. + + The mountain crests riven by rock-slides roll thundering downward + + And wandering rivers, to rivulets shrunk, writhed no longer + + Familiar marges between. With the clangor of armor + + The heavens resound; from the stars wafts the thrill of a trumpet + + Sounding the call to arms. AEtna, now roused to eruption + + Unwonted, darts flashes of flame to the clouds. Flitting phantoms + + Appear midst the tombs and unburied bones, gibbering menace + + A comet, strange stars in its diadem, leads a procession + + And reddens the skies with its fire. Showers of blood fall from + heaven + + These portents the Deity shortly fulfilled! For now Caesar + + Forsook vacillation and, spurred by the love of revenge, sheathed + + The Gallic sword; brandished the brand that proclaimed civil + warfare. + + There, high in the Alps, where the crags, by a Greek god once + trodden, + + Slope down and permit of approach, is a spot ever sacred + + To Hercules’ altar; the winter with frozen snow seals it + + And rears to the heavens a summit eternally hoary, + + As though the sky there had slipped down: no warmth from the + sunbeams, + + No breath from the Springtime can soften the pile’s wintry rigor + + Nor slacken the frost chains that bind; and its menacing shoulders + + The weight of the world could sustain. With victorious legions + + These crests Caesar trod and selected a camp. Gazing downwards + + On Italy’s plains rolling far, from the top of the mountain, + + He lifted both hands to the heavens, his voice rose in prayer: + + ‘Omnipotent Jove, and thou, refuge of Saturn whose glory + + Was brightened by feats of my armies and crowned with my triumphs, + + Bear witness! Unwillingly summon I Mars to these armies, + + Unwillingly draw I the sword! But injustice compels me. + + While enemy blood dyes the Rhine and the Alps are held firmly + + Repulsing a second assault of the Gauls on our city, + + She dubs me an outcast! And Victory makes me an exile! + + To triumphs three score, and defeats of the Germans, my treason + + I trace! How can they fear my glory or see in my battles + + A menace? But hirelings, and vile, to whom my Rome is but a + + Stepmother! Methinks that no craven this sword arm shall hamper + + And take not a stroke in repost. On to victory, comrades, + + While anger seethes hot. With the sword we will seek a decision + + The doom lowering down is a peril to all, and the treason. + + My gratitude owe I to you, not alone have I conquered! + + Since punishment waits by our trophies and victory merits + + Disgrace, then let Chance cast the lots. Raise the standard of + battle; + + Again take your swords. Well I know that my cause is accomplished + + Amidst such armed warriors I know that I cannot be beaten.’ + + While yet the words echoed, from heaven the bird of Apollo + + Vouchsafed a good omen and beat with his pinions the ether. + + From out of the left of a gloomy grove strange voices sounded + + And flame flashed thereafter! The sun gleamed with brighter + refulgence + + Unwonted, his face in a halo of golden flame shining.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD. + + “By omens emboldened, to follow, the battle-flags, Caesar + + Commanded; and boldly led on down the perilous pathway. + + The footing, firm-fettered by frost chains and ice, did not hinder + + At first, but lay silent, the kindly cold masking its grimness; + + But, after the squadrons of cavalry shattered the clouds, bound + + By ice, and the trembling steeds crushed in the mail of the rivers, + + Then, melted the snows! And soon torrents newborn, from the + heights of + + The mountains rush down: but these also, as if by commandment + + Grow rigid, and, turn into ice, in their headlong rush downwards! + + Now, that which rushed madly a moment before, must be hacked + through! + + But now, it was treacherous, baffling their steps and their footing + + Deceiving; and men, horses, arms, fall in heaps, in confusion. + + And see! Now the clouds, by an icy gale smitten, their burden + + Discharge! Lo! the gusts of the whirlwind swirl fiercely + about them; + + The sky in convulsions, with swollen hail buffets them sorely. + + Already the clouds themselves rupture and smother their weapons, + + An avalanche icy roars down like a billow of ocean; + + Earth lay overwhelmed by the drifts of the snow and the planets + + Of heaven are blotted from sight; overwhelmed are the rivers + + That cling to their banks, but unconquered is Caesar! His javelin + + He leans on and scrunches with firm step a passage the bristling + + Grim ice fields across! As, spurred on by the lust, of adventure + + Amphitryon’s offspring came striding the Caucasus slopes down; + + Or Jupiter’s menacing mien as, from lofty Olympus + + He leaped, the doomed giants to crush and to scatter their weapons. + + While Caesar in anger the swelling peaks treads down, winged rumor + + In terror flies forth and on beating wings seeks the high summit + + Of Palatine tall: every image she rocks with her message + + Announcing this thunderbolt Roman! Already, the ocean + + Is tossing his fleets! Now his cavalry, reeking with German + + Gore, pours from the Alps! Slaughter, bloodshed, and weapons + + The red panorama of war is unrolled to their vision! + + By terror their hearts are divided: two counsels perplex them! + + One chooses by land to seek flight: to another, the water + + Appeals, and the sea than his own land is safer! Another + + Will stand to his arms and advantage extort from Fate’s mandate. + + The depth of their fear marks the length of their flight! In + confusion + + The people itself--shameful spectacle--driven by terror + + Is led to abandon the city. Rome glories in fleeing! + + The Quirites from battle blench! Cowed by the breath of a rumor + + Relinquished their firesides to mourning! One citizen, palsied + + With terror, his children embraces: another, his penates + + Conceals in his bosom; then, weeping, takes leave of his threshold + + And slaughters the distant invader--with curses! Their spouses + + Some clasp to their sorrow-wracked bosoms! Youths carry their + fathers + + Bowed down with old age, uninured to the bearing of burdens. + + They seize what they dread to lose most. Inexperience drags all + + Its chattels to camp and to battle: as, when powerful Auster + + Piles up the churned waters and tumbles them: never a yard-arm + + Nor rudder to answer the hand, here, one fashions a life-raft + + Of pine planks, another steers into some bay on a lee shore, + + Another will crack on and run from the gale and to Fortune + + Trust all! But why sorrow for trifles? The consuls, with Pompey + + The Great--he, the terror of Pontus, of savage Hydaspes + + Explorer, the reef that wrecked pirates, caused Jove to turn livid, + + When thrice was a triumph decreed him, whom Pontus’ vexed water + + And pacified billows of Bosphorus worshipped! Disgraceful their + + Flight! Title and glory forsaking! Now Fortune capricious + + Looks down on the back of great Pompey retreating in terror!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FOURTH. + + “So great a misfortune disrupted the concord of heaven + + And gods swelled the rout in their panic! Behold through creation + + The gentle divinities flee from the ravening earth; in + + Their loathing they turn from humanity, doomed to destruction! + + And first of all, Peace, with her snowy white arms, hides her visage + + Defeated, her helmet beneath and, abandoning earth, flees + + To seek out the realm of implacable Dis, as a refuge + + Meek Faith her companion, and Justice with locks loosely flowing, + + And Concord, in tears, and her raiment in tatters, attend her. + + The minions of Pluto pour forth from the portals of darkness + + That yawn: the serpent-haired Fury, Bellona the Savage, + + Megoera with firebrands, destruction, and treachery, livid + + Death’s likeness! Among them is Frenzy, as, free, with her lashings + + Snapped short, she now raises her gory head, shielding her features + + Deep scarred by innumerous wounds ‘neath her helmet blood-clotted. + + Her left arm she guards with a battle-scarred shield scored by + weapons, + + And numberless spear-heads protrude from its surface: her right hand + + A flaming torch brandishes, kindling a flame that will burn up + + The world! Now the gods are on earth and the skies note their + absence; + + The planets disordered their orbits attempt! Into factions + + The heavens divide; first Dione espouses the cause of + + Her Caesar. Minerva next steps to her side and the great son + + Of Ares, his mighty spear brandishing! Phoebus espouses + + The cause of Great Pompey: his sister and Mercury also + + And Hercules like unto him in his travels and labors. + + The trumpets call! Discord her Stygian head lifts to heaven + + Her tresses disheveled, her features with clotted blood covered, + + Tears pour from her bruised eyes, her iron fangs thick coated + with rust, + + Her tongue distils poison, her features are haloed with serpents, + + Her hideous bosom is visible under her tatters, + + A torch with a blood red flame waves from her tremulous right hand. + + Emerging from Cocytus dark and from Tartarus murky + + She strode to the crests of the Apennines noble, the prospect + + Of earth to survey, spread before her the world panorama + + Its shores and the armies that march on its surface: these words + then + + Burst out of her bosom malignant: ‘To arms, now, ye nations, + + While anger seethes hot, seize your arms, set the torch to the + cities, + + Who skulks now is lost; neither woman nor child nor the aged + + Bowed down with their years shall find quarter: the whole world will + tremble + + And rooftrees themselves shall crash down and take part in the + struggle. + + Marcellus, hold firm for the law! And thou, Curio, madden + + The rabble! Thou, Lentulus, strive not to check valiant Ares! + + Thou, Cesar divine, why delayest thou now thine invasion? + + Why smash not the gates, why not level the walls of the cities, + + Their treasures to pillage? Thou, Magnus, dost not know the secret + + Of holding the hills of Rome? Take thou the walls of Dyrrachium, + + Let Thessaly’s harbors be dyed with the blood of the Romans!’ + + On earth was obeyed every detail of Discord’s commandment.” + + +When Eumolpus had, with great volubility, poured out this flood of words, +we came at last to Crotona. Here we refreshed ourselves at a mean inn, +but on the following day we went in search of more imposing lodgings and +fell in with a crowd of legacy hunters who were very curious as to the +class of society to which we belonged and as to whence we had come. +Thereupon, in accord with our mutual understanding, such ready answers +did we make as to who we might be or whence we had come that we gave them +no cause for doubt. They immediately fell to wrangling in their desire +to heap their own riches upon Eumolpus and every fortune-hunter solicited +his favor with presents. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + +Desire no possession unless the world envies me for possessing +Either ‘take-in,’ or else they are ‘taken-in’ +Platitudes by which anguished minds are recalled to sanity +They seize what they dread to lose most + + + + + +VOLUME 5.--AFFAIRS AT CROTONA + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIFTH. + +For a long time affairs at Crotona ran along in this manner and Eumolpus, +flushed with success so far forgot the former state of his fortunes that +he even bragged to his followers that no one could hold out against any +wish of his, and that any member of his suite who committed a crime +in that city would, through the influence of his friends, get off +unpunished. But, although I daily crammed my bloated carcass to +overflowing with good things, and began more and more to believe that +Fortune had turned away her face from keeping watch upon me, I frequently +meditated, nevertheless, upon my present state and upon its cause. +“Suppose,” thought I, “some wily legacy hunter should dispatch an agent +to Africa and catch us in our lie? Or even suppose the hireling servant, +glutted with prosperity, should tip off his cronies or give the whole +scheme away out of spite? There would be nothing for it but flight and, +in a fresh state of destitution, a recalling of poverty which had been +driven off. Gods and goddesses, how ill it fares with those living +outside the law; they are always on the lookout for what is coming to +them!” (Turning these possibilities over in my mind I left the house, in +a state of black melancholy, hoping to revive my spirits in the fresh +air, but scarcely had I set foot upon the public promenade when a girl, +by no means homely, met me, and, calling me Polyaenos, the name I had +assumed since my metamorphosis, informed me that her mistress desired +leave to speak with me. “You must be mistaken,” I answered, in +confusion, “I am only a servant and a stranger, and am by no means worthy +of such an honor.”) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIXTH. + +(“You yourself,” she replied, “are the one to whom I was sent but,) +because you are well aware of your good looks, you are proud and sell +your favors instead of giving them. What else can those wavy well-combed +locks mean or that face, rouged and covered with cosmetics, or that +languishing, wanton expression in your eyes? Why that gait, so precise +that not a footstep deviates from its place, unless you wish to show off +your figure in order to sell your favors? Look at me, I know nothing +about omens and I don’t study the heavens like the astrologers, but I can +read men’s intentions in their faces and I know what a flirt is after +when I see him out for a stroll; so if you’ll sell us what I want there’s +a buyer ready, but if you will do the graceful thing and lend, let us be +under obligations to you for the favor. And as for your confession that +you are only a common servant, by that you only fan the passion of the +lady who burns for you, for some women will only kindle for canaille and +cannot work up an appetite unless they see some slave or runner with his +clothing girded up: a gladiator arouses one, or a mule-driver all covered +with dust, or some actor posturing in some exhibition on the stage. My +mistress belongs to this class, she jumps the fourteen rows from the +stage to the gallery and looks for a lover among the gallery gods at the +back.” Puffed up with this delightful chatter. “Come now, confess, won’t +you,” I queried, “is this lady who loves me yourself?” The waiting maid +smiled broadly at this blunt speech. “Don’t have such a high opinion of +yourself,” said she, “I’ve never given in to any servant yet; the gods +forbid that I should ever throw my arms around a gallows-bird. Let the +married women see to that and kiss the marks of the scourge if they like: +I’ll sit upon nothing below a knight, even if I am only a servant.” I +could not help marveling, for my part, at such discordant passions, and I +thought it nothing short of a miracle that this servant should possess +the hauteur of the mistress and the mistress the low tastes of the wench! + + Each one will find what suits his taste, one thing is not for all, + One gathers roses as his share, another thorns enthrall. + +After a little more teasing, I requested the maid to conduct her mistress +to a clump of plane trees. Pleased with this plan, the girl picked up +the skirt of her garment and turned into a laurel grove that bordered the +path. After a short delay she brought her mistress from her hiding-place +and conducted her to my side; a woman more perfect than any statue. +There are no words with which to describe her form and anything I could +say would fall far short. Her hair, naturally wavy, flowed completely +over her shoulders; her forehead was low and the roots of her hair were +brushed back from it; her eyebrows, running from the very springs of her +cheeks, almost met at the boundary line between a pair of eyes brighter +than stars shining in a moonless night; her nose was slightly aquiline +and her mouth was such an one as Praxiteles dreamed Diana had. Her chin, +her neck, her hands, the gleaming whiteness of her feet under a slender +band of gold; she turned Parian marble dull! Then, for the first time, +Doris’ tried lover thought lightly of Doris! + + Oh Jove, what’s come to pass that thou, thine armor cast away + Art mute in heaven; and but an idle tale? + At such a time the horns should sprout, the raging bull hold sway, + Or they white hair beneath swan’s down conceal + Here’s Dana’s self! But touch that lovely form + Thy limbs will melt beneath thy passions’ storm! + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVENTH. + +She was delighted and so be witchingly did she smile that I seemed to see +the full moon showing her face from behind a cloud. Then, punctuating +her words with her fingers, “Dear boy, if you are not too critical to +enjoy a woman of wealth who has but this year known her first man, I +offer you a sister,” said she. “You have a brother already, I know, for +I didn’t disdain to ask, but what is to prevent your adopting a sister, +too? I will come in on the same footing only deem my kisses worthy of +recognition and caress me at your own pleasure!” “Rather let me implore +you by your beauty,” I replied. “Do not scorn to admit an alien among +your worshipers: If you permit me to kneel before your shrine you will +find me a true votary and, that you may not think I approach this temple +of love without a gift, I make you a present of my brother!” “What,” she +exclaimed, “would you really sacrifice the only one without whom you +could not live’? The one upon whose kisses your happiness depends. Him +whom you love as I would have you love me?” Such sweetness permeated her +voice as she said this, so entrancing was the sound upon the listening +air that you would have believed the Sirens’ harmonies were floating in +the breeze. I was struck with wonder and dazzled by I know not what +light that shone upon me, brighter than the whole heaven, but I made +bold to inquire the name of my divinity. “Why, didn’t my maid tell you +that I am called Circe?” she replied. “But I am not the sun-child nor +has my mother ever stayed the revolving world in its course at her +pleasure; but if the Fates bring us two together I will owe heaven a +favor. I don’t know what it is, but some god’s silent purpose is beneath +this. Circe loves not Polyaenos without some reason; a great torch is +always flaming when these names meet! Take me in your arms then, if you +will; there’s no prying stranger to fear, and your ‘brother’ is far away +from this spot!” So saying, Circe clasped me in arms that were softer +than down and drew me to the ground which was covered with colored +flowers. + + With flowers like these did Mother Earth great Ida’s summit strew + When Jupiter, his heart aflame, enjoyed his lawful love; + There glowed the rose, the flowering rush, the violet’s deep blue, + From out green meadows snow-white lilies laughed. Then from above, + This setting summoned Venus to the green and tender sod, + Bright day smiled kindly on the secret amour of the God. + +Side by side upon the grassy plot we lay, exchanging a thousand kisses, +the prelude to more poignant pleasure, (but alas! My sudden loss of +vigor disappointed Circe!) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT. + +(Infuriated at this affront,) “What’s the matter,” demanded she; “do my +kisses offend you? Is my breath fetid from fasting? Is there any evil +smelling perspiration in my armpits? Or, if it’s nothing of this kind, +are you afraid of Giton?” Under her eyes, I flushed hotly and, if I had +any virility left, I lost it then; my whole body seemed to be inert. “My +queen,” I cried, “do not mock me in my humiliation. I am bewitched!” + (Circe’s anger was far from being appeased by such a trivial excuse; +turning her eyes contemptuously away from me, she looked at her maid,) +“Tell me, Chrysis, and tell me truly, is there anything repulsive about +me? Anything sluttish? Have I some natural blemish that disfigures my +beauty? Don’t deceive your mistress! I don’t know what’s the matter +with us, but there must be something!” Then she snatched a mirror from +the silent maid and after scrutinizing all the looks and smiles which +pass between lovers, she shook out her wrinkled earth-stained robe and +flounced off into the temple of Venus (nearby.) And here was I, like a +convicted criminal who had seen some horrible nightmare, asking myself +whether the pleasure out of which I had been cheated was a reality or +only a dream. + + As when, in the sleep-bringing night + Dreams sport with the wandering eyes, + And earth, spaded up, yields to light + Her gold that by day she denies, + The stealthy hand snatches the spoils; + The face with cold sweat is suffused + And Fear grips him tight in her toils + Lest robbers the secret have used + And shake out the gold from his breast. + But, when they depart from his brain, + These enchantments by which he’s obsessed, + And Truth comes again with her train + Restoring perspective and pain, + The phantasm lives to the last, + The mind dwells with shades of the past. + +(The misfortune seemed to me a dream, but I imagined that I must surely +be under a spell of enchantment and, for a long time, I was so devoid of +strength that I could not get to my feet. But finally my mental +depression began to abate, little by little my strength came back to me, +and I returned home: arrived there, I feigned illness and threw myself +upon my couch. A little late: Giton, who had heard of my indisposition, +entered the room in some concern. As I wished to relieve his mind I +informed him that I had merely sought my pallet to take a rest, telling +him much other gossip but not a word about my mishap as I stood in great +fear of his jealousy and, to lull any suspicion which he might entertain, +I drew him to my side and endeavoured to give him some proofs of my love +but all my panting and sweating were in vain. He jumped up in a rage and +accused my lack of virility and change of heart, declaring that he had +for a long time suspected that I had been expending my vigor and breath +elsewhere. “No! No! Darling,” I replied, “my love for you has always +been the same, but reason prevails now over love and wantonness.”) “And +for the Socratic continence of your love, I thank you in his name,” (he +replied sarcastically,) “Alcibiades was never more spotless when he left +his master’s bed!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINTH. + +“Believe me, ‘brother,’ when I tell you that I do not know whether I am a +man or not,” (I vainly protested;) “I do not feel like one, if I am! +Dead and buried lies that part in which I was once an Achilles!” (Giton, +seeing that I was completely enervated, and) fearing that it might give +cause for scandal if he were caught in this quiet place with me, tore +himself away and fled into an inner part of the house. (He had just gone +when) Chrysis entered the room and handed me her mistress’s tablets, in +which were written the following words: + + CIRCE TO POLYIENOS-GREETING. + + Were I a wanton, I should complain of my disappointment, but as it + is I am beholden to your impotence, for by it I dallied the longer + in the shadow of pleasure. Still, I would like to know how you are + and whether you got home upon your own legs, for the doctors say + that one cannot walk without nerves! Young man, I advise you to + beware of paralysis for I never in my life saw a patient in such + great danger; you’re as good as dead, I’m sure! What if the same + numbness should attack your hands and knees? You would have to send + for the funeral trumpeters! Still, even if I have been affronted, + I will not begrudge a prescription to one as sick as you! Ask Giton + if you would like to recover. I am sure you will get back your + strength if you will sleep without your “brother” for three nights. + So far as I am concerned, I am not in the least alarmed about + finding someone to whom I shall be as pleasing as I was to you; my + mirror and my reputation do not lie. + + Farewell (if you can). + +“Such things will happen,” said Chrysis, when she saw that I had read +through the entire inditement, “and especially in this city, where the +women can lure the moon from the sky! But we’ll find a cure for your +trouble. Just return a diplomatic answer to my mistress and restore her +self-esteem by frank courtesy for, truth to tell, she has never been +herself from the minute she received that affront.” I gladly followed +the maid’s advice and wrote upon the tablets as follows: + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTIETH. + + POLYAENOS TO CIRCE--GREETING. + + Dear lady, I confess that I have often given cause for offense, for + I am only a man, and a young one, too, but I never committed a + deadly crime until today! You have my confession of guilt, I + deserve any punishment you may see fit to prescribe. I betrayed a + trust, I murdered a man, I violated a temple: demand my punishment + for these crimes. Should it be your pleasure to slay me I will come + to you with my sword; if you are content with a flogging I will run + naked to my mistress; only bear in mind that it was not myself but + my tools that failed me. I was a soldier, and ready, but I had no + arms. What threw me into such disorder I do not know, perhaps my + imagination outran my lagging body, by aspiring to too much it is + likely that I spent my pleasure in delay; I cannot imagine what the + trouble was. You bid me beware of paralysis; as if a disease which + prevented my enjoying you could grow worse! But my apology amounts + briefly to this; if you will grant me an opportunity of repairing my + fault, I will give you satisfaction. + Farewell + +After dismissing Chrysis with these fair promises, I paid careful +attention to my body which had so evilly served me and, omitting the +bath, I annointed myself, in moderation, with unguents and placed myself +upon a more strengthening diet such as onions and snail’s heads without +condiments, and I also drank more sparingly of wine; then, taking a short +walk before settling down to sleep, I went to bed without Giton. So +anxious was I to please her that I feared the outcome if my “brother” lay +tickling my side. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIRST. + +Finding myself vigorous in mind and body when I arose next morning, I +went down to the same clump of plane trees, though I dreaded the spot as +one of evil omen, and commenced to wait for Chrysis to lead me on my way. +I took a short stroll and had just seated myself where I had sat the day +before, when she came under the trees, leading a little old woman by the +hand. “Well, Mr. Squeamish,” she chirped, when she had greeted me, “have +you recovered your appetite?” In the meantime, the old hag: + + A wine-soaked crone with twitching lips + +brought out a twisted hank of different colored yarns and put it about my +neck; she then kneaded dust and spittle and, dipping her middle finger +into the mixture, she crossed my forehead with it, in spite of my +protests. + + As long as life remains, there’s hope; + Thou rustic God, oh hear our prayer, + Great Priapus, I thee invoke, + Temper our arms to dare! + +When she had made an end of this incantation she ordered me to spit three +times, and three times to drop stones into my bosom, each stone she +wrapped up in purple after she had muttered charms over it; then, +directing her hands to my privates, she commenced to try out my virility. +Quicker than thought the nerves responded to the summons, filling the +crone’s hand with an enormous erection! Skipping for joy, “Look, +Chrysis, look,” she cried out, “see what a hare I’ve started, for someone +else to course!” (This done, the old lady handed me over to Chrysis, who +was greatly delighted at the recovery of her mistress’s treasure; she +hastily conducted me straight to the latter, introducing me into a lovely +nook that nature had furnished with everything which could delight the +eye.) + + Shorn of its top, the swaying pine here casts a + summer shade + And quivering cypress, and the stately plane + And berry-laden laurel. A brook’s wimpling waters strayed + Lashed into foam, but dancing on again + And rolling pebbles in their chattering flow. + ‘Twas Love’s own nook, + As forest nightingale and urban Procne undertook + To bear true witness; hovering, the gleaming grass above + And tender violets; wooing with song, their stolen love. + +Fanning herself with a branch of flowering myrtle, she lay, stretched out +with her marble neck resting upon a golden cushion. When she caught +sight of me she blushed faintly; she recalled yesterday’s affront, I +suppose. At her invitation, I sat down by her side, as soon as the +others had gone; whereupon she put the branch of myrtle over my face and +emboldened, as if a wall had been raised between us, “Well, Mr. +Paralytic,” she teased, “have you brought all of yourself along today?” + “Why ask me,” I replied, “why not try me instead?” and throwing myself +bodily into her arms, I revelled in her kisses with no witchcraft to stop +me. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SECOND. + +The loveliness of her form drew me to her and summoned me to love. Our +lips were pressed together in a torrent of smacking kisses, our groping +hands had discovered every trick of excitation, and our bodies, clasped +in a mutual embrace, had fused our souls into one, (and then, in the very +midst of these ravishing preliminaries my nerves again played me false +and I was unable to last until the instant of supreme bliss.) Lashed to +fury by these inexcusable affronts, the lady at last ran to avenge +herself and, calling her house servants, she gave orders for me to be +hoisted upon their shoulders and flogged; then, still unsatisfied with +the drastic punishment she had inflicted upon me, she called all the +spinning women and scrubbing wenches in the house and ordered them to +spit upon me. I covered my face with my hands but I uttered no complaint +as I well knew what I deserved and, overwhelmed with blows and spittle, I +was driven from the house. Proselenos was kicked out too, Chrysis was +beaten, and all the slaves grumbled among themselves and wondered what +had upset their mistress’s good humor. I took heart after having given +some thought to my misfortunes and, artfully concealing the marks of the +blows for fear that Eumolpus would make merry over my mishaps or, worse +yet, that Giton might be saddened by my disgrace, I did the only thing I +could do to save my self-respect, I pretended that I was sick and went to +bed. There, I turned the full fury of my resentment against that +recreant which had been the sole cause of all the evil accidents which +had befallen me. + + Three times I grasped the two-edged blade + The recreant to cut away; + Three times by Fear my hand was stayed + And palsied Terror said me nay + That which I might have done before + ‘Twas now impossible to do; + For, cold with Fear, the wretch withdrew + Into a thousand-wrinkled mare, + And shrank in shame before my gaze + Nor would his head uncover more. + But though the scamp in terror skulked, + With words I flayed him as he sulked. + +Raising myself upon my elbow I rebuked the shirker in some such terms as +these: “What have you to say for yourself, you disgrace to gods and men,” + I demanded, “for your name must never be mentioned among refined people. +Did I deserve to be lifted up to heaven and then dragged down to hell by +you? Was it right for you to slander my flourishing and vigorous years +and land me in the shadows and lassitude of decrepit old age? Give me +some sign, however faint, I beg of you, that you have returned to life!” + I vented my anger in words such as these. + + His eyes were fixed, and with averted look + He stood, less moved by any word of mine + Than weeping willows bending o’er a brook + Or drooping poppies as at noon they pine. + +When I had made an end of this invective, so out of keeping with good +taste, I began to do penance for my soliloquy and blushed furtively +because I had so far forgotten my modesty as to invoke in words that part +of my body which men of dignity do not even recognize. Then, rubbing my +forehead for a long time, “Why have I committed an indiscretion in +relieving my resentment by natural abuse,” I mused, “what does it amount +to? Are we not accustomed to swear at every member of the human body, +the belly, throat, or even the head when it aches, as it often does? Did +not Ulysses wrangle with his own heart? Do not the tragedians ‘Damn +their eyes’ just as if they could hear? + +“Gouty patients swear at their feet, rheumatics at their hands, +blear-eyed +people at their eyes, and do not those who often stub their toes blame +their feet for all their pain? + + “Why will our Catos with their frowning brows + Condemn a work of fresh simplicity’? + A cheerful kindness my pure speech endows; + What people do, I write, to my capacity. + For who knows not the pleasures Venus gives? + Who will not in a warm bed tease his members? + Great Epicurus taught a truth that lives; + Love and enjoy life! All the rest is embers. + +“Nothing can be more insincere than the silly prejudices of mankind, and +nothing sillier than the morality of bigotry,” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD. + +I called Giton when I had finished my meditation: “Tell me, little +brother,” I demanded, “tell me, on your honor: Did Ascyltos stay awake +until he had exacted his will of you, the night he stole you away from +me? Or was he content to spend the night like a chaste widow?” Wiping +his eyes the lad, in carefully chosen words took oath that Ascyltos had +used no force against him. (The truth of the matter is, that I was so +distraught with my own misfortunes that I knew not what I was saying. +“Why recall past memories which can only cause pain,” said I to myself. +I then directed all my energies towards the recovery of my lost manhood. +To achieve this I was ready even to devote myself to the gods; +accordingly, I went out to invoke the aid of Priapus.) {Putting as good a +face upon the matter as I could} I knelt upon the threshold of his shrine +and invoked the God in the following verses: + + “Of Bacchus and the nymphs, companion boon, + Whom fair Dione set o’er forests wide + As God: whom Lesbos and green Thasos own + For deity, whom Lydians, far and wide + Adore through all the seasons of the year; + Whose temple in his own Hypaepa placed, + Thou Dryad’s joy and Bacchus’, hear my prayer! + To thee I come, by no dark blood disgraced, + No shrine, in wicked lust have I profaned; + When I was poor and worn with want, I sinned + Not by intent, a pauper’s sin’s not banned + As of another! Unto thee I pray + Lift thou the load from off my tortured mind, + Forgive a light offense! When fortune smiles + I’ll not thy glory shun and leave behind + Thy worship! Unto thee, a goat that feels + His primest vigor, father of the flocks + Shall come! And suckling pigs, the tender young + Of some fine grunting sow! New wine, in crocks + Shall foam! Thy grateful praises shall be sung + By youths who thrice shall dance around thy shrine + Happy, in youth and full of this year’s wine!” + +While I was engaged in this diplomatic effort in behalf of the affected +member, a hideous crone with disheveled hair, and clad in black garments +which were in great disorder, entered the shrine and, laying hands upon +me, led me {thoroughly frightened,} out into the portico. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH. + +“What witches” (she cried,) “have devoured your manhood? What filth did +you tread upon at some crossroads, in the dark? Not even by the boy +could you do your duty but, weak and effeminate, you are worn out like a +cart-horse at a hill, you have lost both labor and sweat! Not content +with getting yourself into trouble, you have stirred up the wrath of the +gods against me {and I will make you smart for it.”} She then led me, +unresisting, back into the priestess’s room, pushed me down upon the bed, +snatched a cane that hung upon the door, and gave me another thrashing: +I remained silent and, had the cane not splintered at the first stroke, +thereby diminishing the force of the blow, she might easily have broken +my arms or my head. I groaned dismally, and especially when she +manipulated my member and, shedding a flood of tears, I covered my head +with my right arm and huddled down upon the pillow. Nor did she weep +less bitterly: + +The sailor, naked from his foundered barque, +Some shipwrecked mariner seeks out to hear his woe; +When hail beats down a farmer’s crop, his cark +Seeks consolation from another, too. +Death levels caste and sufferers unites, +And weeping parents are as one in grief; +We also will beseech the starry heights, +United prayers climb best, is the belief. + +She seated herself upon the other side of the bed and in quavering tones +commenced to accuse the delays of old age. At last the priestess came +in. “Why,” she cried, “what has brought you into my cell as if you were +visiting a newly made grave? And on a feast-day, too, when even mourners +ought to smile!” “OEnothea,” the old hag replied, “this young man here +was born under an unlucky star: he can’t dispose of his goods to either +boy or girl. Such an unfortunate fellow you never saw. He has no tool +at all, only a piece of leather soaked in water! I wish you would tell +me what you think of a man who could get up from Circe’s bed without +having tasted pleasure!” On hearing these words, OEnothea sat down +between us and, after shaking her head for a while, “I’m the only one +that knows how to cure that disease,” said she, “and for fear you think +I’m talking to hear myself talk, I’ll just have the young fellow sleep +with me for a night, and if I don’t make it as hard as horn! + + All that you see in the world must give heed to my mandates; + + Blossoming earth, when I will it, must languish, a desert.’ + + Riches pour forth, when I will it, from crags and grim boulders + + Waters will spurt that will rival the Nile at its flooding + + Seas calm their billows before me, gales silence their howlings, + + Hearing my step! And the rivers sink into their channels; + + Dragons, Hyrcanian tigers stand fast at my bidding! + + Why should I tell you of small things? The image of Luna + + Drawn by my spells must descend, and Apollo, atremble + + Backs up his horses and turns from his course at my order! + + Such is the power of my word! By the rites of a virgin + + Quenched is the raging of bulls; and the sun’s daughter Circe + + Changed and transfigured the crew of the wily Ulysses. + + Proteus changes his form when his good pleasure dictates, + + I, who am skilled in these arts, can the shrubs of Mount Ida + + Plant in the ocean; turn rivers to flow up the mountains!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIFTH. + +At this declaration, which was so awe-inspiring, I shuddered in terror, +and commenced to scrutinize the crone more narrowly. “Come now,” said +OEnothea, “obey my orders,” and, carefully wiping her hands, she bent +over the cot and kissed me, once, twice! On the middle of the altar +OEnothea placed an old table, upon which she heaped live coals, then with +melted pitch she repaired a goblet which had become cracked through age. +Next she replaced, in the smoke-stained wall, a peg which had come out +when she took down the wooden goblet. Then, having donned a mantle, in +the shape of a piece of square-cut cloth, she set a huge kettle upon the +hearth and at the same time speared with a fork a cloth hanging upon the +meathooks, and lifted it down. It contained some beans which had been +laid away for future use, and a very small and stale piece of pig’s +cheek, scored with a thousand slashes. When she had untied the string +which fastened the cloth, she poured some of the beans upon the table and +ordered me to shell them quickly and carefully. I obey her mandate and +with careful fingers separate the beans from the filthy pods which +contain them; but she, accusing my clumsiness, hastily snatched them and, +skillfully tearing off the pods with her teeth, spat them upon the +ground, where they looked like dead flies. I wondered, then, at the +ingenuity of poverty and its expedients for emergency. (So ardent a +follower of this virtue did the priestess seem that it was reflected in +everything around her. Her dwelling, in particular, was a very shrine of +poverty.) + + No Indian ivory set in gold gleamed here, + No trodden marble glistened here; no earth + Mocked for its gifts; but Ceres’ festive grove: + With willow wickerwork ‘twas set around, + New cups of clay by revolutions shaped + Of lowly wheel. For honey soft, a bowl; + Platters of green bark wickerwork, a jar + Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine; + The walls around with chaff and spattered clay + Were covered. Flanging from protruding nails + Were slender stalks of the green rush; and then + Suspended from the smoky beam, the stores + Of this poor cottage. Service berries soft, + Entwined in fragrant wreaths hung down, + Dried savory and raisins by the bunch. + An hostess here like she on Attic soil, + Of Hecate’s pure worship worthy she! + Whose fame Kallimachos so grandly sang + ‘Twill live forever through the speaking years. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH. + +In the meantime, (having shelled the beans,) she took a mouthful of the +meat and with the fork was replacing the pig’s cheek, which was coeval +with herself, upon the meat-hook, when the rotten stool, which she was +using to augment her height, broke down under the old lady’s weight and +let her fall upon the hearth. The neck of the pot was broken, putting +out the fire, which was just getting a good start, her elbow was burned +by a flaming brand, and her whole face was covered by the ashes raised by +her fall. I jumped up in dismay and, not without laughing, helped the +old lady to her feet. She hastily scurried out into the neighborhood to +replenish the fire, for fear anything should delay the sacrifice. I was +on my way to the door of the cell when lo! and behold! three sacred geese +which were accustomed, I suppose, to demand their feed from the old woman +at midday, made a rush at me and, surrounding me, made me nervous with +their abominable rabid cackling. One tore at my tunic, another undid the +lacings of my sandals and tugged at them, but one in particular, the +ringleader and moving spirit of this savage attack, did not hesitate to +worry at my leg with his serrated bill. Unable to see the joke, I +twisted off one of the legs of the little table and, thus armed, began to +belabor the pugnacious brute. Nor did I rest content with a light blow, +I avenged myself by the death of the goose. + + ‘Twas thus, I ween, the birds of Stymphalus + To heaven fled, by Herakles impelled; + The Harpies, too, whose reeking pinions held + That poison which the feast of Phineus + Contaminated. All the air above + With their unwonted lamentations shook, + The heavens in uproar and confusion move + {The Stars, in dread, their orbits then forsook!} + +By this time the two remaining geese had picked up the beans which had +been scattered all over the floor and bereft, I suppose, of their leader, +had gone back into the temple; and I, well content with my revenge and my +booty, threw the dead goose behind the cot and bathed the trifling wound +in my leg with vinegar: then, fearing a scolding, I made up my mind to +run away and, collecting together all my belongings, started to leave the +house. I had not yet stepped over the threshold of the cell, however, +when I caught sight of OEnothea returning with an earthen vessel full of +live coals. Thereupon I retraced my steps and, throwing off my garments, +I took my stand just inside the door, as if I were awaiting her return. +She banked her fire with broken reeds, piled some pieces of wood on top, +and began to excuse her delay on the ground that her friend would not +permit her to leave until after the customary three drinks had been +taken. “But what were you up to in my absence?” she demanded. “Where +are the beans?” Thinking that I had done a thing worthy of all praise, I +informed her of the battle in all its details and, that she might not be +downcast any longer, I produced the dead goose in payment for her loss. +When the old lady laid eyes upon that, she raised such a clamor that you +would have thought that the geese had invaded the room again. Confounded +and thunderstruck at the novelty of my crime, I asked her why she was so +angry and why she pitied the goose rather than myself. + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY SEVENTH. + +But, beating her palms together, “You villain, are you so brazen that you +can speak?” she shrieked. “Don’t you know what a serious crime you’ve +committed? You have slaughtered the delight of Priapus, a goose, the +very darling of married women! And for fear you think that nothing +serious has happened, if the magistrates find this out you’ll go to the +cross! Until this day my dwelling has been inviolate and you have +polluted it with blood! You have conducted yourself in such a manner +that any enemy I have can turn me out of the priesthood!” + + She spoke, and from her trembling head she tore the snow-white hair, + And scratched her cheeks: her eyes shed floods of tears. + As when a torrent headlong rushes down the valleys drear, + Its icy fetters gone when Sprint appears, + And strikes the frozen shackles from rejuvenated earth + So down her face the tears in torrents swept + And wracking sobs convulsed her as she wept. + +“Please don’t make such a fuss,” I said, “I’ll give you an ostrich in +place of your goose!” While she sat upon the cot and, to my +stupefaction, bewailed the death of the goose, Proselenos came in with +the materials for the sacrifice. Seeing the dead goose and inquiring the +cause of her grief, she herself commenced to weep more violently still +and to commiserate me, as if I had slain my own father, instead of a +public goose. Growing tired of this nonsense at last, “See here,” + said I, “could I not purchase immunity for a price, even though I had +assaulted you’? Even though I had murdered a man? Look here! I’m +laying down two gold pieces, you can buy both gods and geese with them!” + “Forgive me, young man,” said OEnothea, when she caught sight of the +gold, “I am anxious upon your account; that is a proof of love, not of +malignity. Let us take such precautions that not a soul will find this +out. As for you, pray to the gods to forgive your sacrilege!” + + The rich man can sail in a favoring gale + And snap out his course at his pleasure; + A Dance espouse, no Acrisius will rail, + His credence by hers he will measure; + Write verse, or declaim; snap the finger of scorn + At the world, yet still win all his cases, + The rabble will drink in his words with concern + When a Cato austere it displaces. + At law, his “not proven,” or “proved,” he can have + With Servius or Labeo vieing; + With gold at command anything he may crave + Is his without asking or sighing. + The universe bows at his slightest behest, + For Jove is a prisoner in his treasure chest. + +In the meantime, she scurried around and put a jar of wine under my hands +and, when my fingers had all been spread out evenly, she purified them +with leeks and parsley. Then, muttering incantations, she threw +hazel-nuts into the wine and drew her conclusions as they sank or +floated; but she did not hoodwink me, for those with empty shells, no +kernel and full of air, would of course float, while those that were +heavy and full of sound kernel would sink to the bottom. {She then +turned her attention to the goose,} and, cutting open the breast, she +drew out a very fat liver from which she foretold my future. Then, for +fear any trace of the crime should remain, she cut the whole goose up, +stuck the pieces upon spits, and served up a very delectable dinner for +me, whom, but a moment before, she had herself condemned to death, in +her own words! Meanwhile, cups of unmixed wine went merrily around (and +the crones greedily devoured the goose which they had but so lately +lamented. When the last morsel had disappeared, OEnothea, half-drunk by +this time, looked at me and said, “We must now go through with the +mysteries, so that you may get back your virility.”) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHTH. + +(As she said this OEnothea brought) out a leathern dildo which, when she +had smeared it with oil, ground pepper, and pounded nettle seed, she +commenced to force, little by little, up my anus. The merciless old +virago then anointed the insides of my thighs with the same decoction; +finally mixing nasturtium juice with elixir of southern wood, she gave my +genitals a bath and, picking up a bunch of green nettles, she commenced +to strike me gently all over my belly below the navel. {The nettles stung +me horribly and I suddenly took to my heels, with the old hags in full +pursuit.} Although they were befuddled with wine and lust they followed +the right road and chased me through several wards, screaming “Stop +thief.” I made good my escape, however, although every toe was bleeding +as the result of my headlong flight. (I got home as quickly as I could +and, worn out with fatigue, I sought my couch, but I could not snatch a +wink of sleep for the evil adventures which had befallen me kept running +through my brain and, brooding upon them, I came to the conclusion that +no one could be so abjectly unfortunate. “Has Fortune, always inimical +to me, stood in need of the pangs of love, that she might torture me more +cruelly still,” I cried out; “unhappy wretch that I am! Fortune and Love +have joined forces to bring about my ruin. Cruel Eros himself had never +dealt leniently with me, loved or lover I am put to the torture! Take +the case of Chrysis: she loves me desperately, never leaves off teasing +me, she who despised me as a servant, because, when she was acting as her +mistress’s go-between, I was dressed in the garments of a slave: she, I +say) that same Chrysis, who looked with contempt upon your former lowly +lot, is now bent upon following it up even at the peril of her life; (she +swore that she would never leave my side on the day when she told me of +the violence of her passion: but Circe owns me, heart and soul, all +others I despise. Who could be lovelier than she?) What loveliness +had Ariadne or Leda to compare with hers? What had Helen to compare with +her, what has Venus? If Paris himself had seen her with her dancing +eyes, when he acted as umpire for the quarreling goddesses, he would have +given up Helen and the goddesses for her! If I could only steal a kiss, +if only I might put my arms around that divine, that heavenly bosom, +perhaps the virility would come back to this body and the parts, flaccid +from witchcraft would, I believe, come into their own. Contempt cannot +tire me out: what if I was flogged; I will forget it! What if I was +thrown out! I will treat it as a joke! Only let me be restored to her +good graces! + + At rest on my pallet, night’s silence had scarce settled down + + To soothe me, and eyes heavy-laden with slumber to lull + + When torturing Amor laid hold of me, seizing my hair + + And dragging me, wounding me, ordered a vigil till dawn. + + ‘Oh heart of stone, how canst thou lie here alone?’ said the God, + + ‘Thou joy of a thousand sweet mistresses, how, oh my slave?’ + + In disarrayed nightrobe I leap to bare feet and essay + + To follow all paths; but a road can discover by none. + + One moment I hasten; the next it is torture to move, + + It irks me again to turn back, shame forbids me to halt + + And stand in the midst of the road. Lo! the voices of men, + + The roar of the streets, and the songs of the birds, and the bark + + Of vigilant watch-dogs are hushed! Alone, I of all + + Society dread both my slumber and couch, and obey + + Great Lord of the Passions, thy mandate which on me was laid.” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH. + +(Such thoughts as these, of lovely Circe’s charms so wrought upon my mind +that) I disordered my bed by embracing the image, as it were, of my +mistress, (but my efforts were all wasted.) This obstinate (affliction +finally wore out my patience, and I cursed the hostile deity by whom I +was bewitched. I soon recovered my composure, however, and, deriving +some consolation from thinking of the heroes of old, who had been +persecuted by the anger of the gods, I broke out in these lines:) + + Hostile gods and implacable rate not me alone pursue; + + Herakles once suffered the weight of heaven’s displeasure too + + Driven from the Inachian coast: Laomedon of old + + Sated two of the heavenly host: in Pelias, behold + + Juno’s power to avenge an affront; and Telephus took arms + + Knowing not he must bear the brunt; Ulysses feared the storms + + Angry Neptune decreed as his due. Now, me to overwhelm + + Outraged Priapus ever pursues on land and Nereus’ realm. + +(Tortured by these cares I spent the whole night in anxiety, and at dawn, +Giton, who had found out that I had slept at home, entered the room and +bitterly accused me of leading a licentious life; he said that the whole +household was greatly concerned at what I had been doing, that I was so +rarely present to attend to my duties, and that the intrigue in which I +was engaged would very likely bring about my ruin. I gathered from this +that he had been well informed as to my affairs, and that someone had +been to the house inquiring for me. Thereupon,) I began to ply Giton +with questions as to whether anyone had made inquiry for me; “Not today,” + he replied, “but yesterday a woman came in at the door, not bad looking, +either, and after talking to me for quite a while, and wearing me out +with her far-fetched conversation, finally ended by saying that you +deserved punishment, and that you would receive the scourging of a slave +if the injured party pressed his complaint.” (This news afflicted me so +bitterly that I levelled fresh recriminations against Fortune, and) I had +not yet finished grumbling when Chrysis came in and, throwing herself +upon me, embraced me passionately. “I have you,” she cried, “just as I +hoped I would; you are my heart’s desire, my joy, you can never put out +this flame of mine unless you quench it in my blood!” (I was greatly +embarrassed by this wantonness of Chrysis and had recourse to flattery +in order that I might rid myself of her, as I feared that her passionate +outcries would reach the ears of Eumolpus who, in the arrogance of +success, had put on the manner of the master. So on this account, I did +everything I could think of to calm Chrysis. I feigned love, whispered +compliments, in short, so skillfully did I dissimulate that she believed +I was Love’s own captive. I showed her what pressing peril overhung us +should she be caught in that room with me, as Eumolpus was only too ready +to punish the slightest offense. On hearing this, she left me hurriedly, +and all the more quickly, as she caught sight of Giton, who had only left +me a little before she had come in, on his way to my room. She was +scarcely gone when) one of the newly engaged servants rushed in and +informed me that the master was furiously angry with me because of my two +days’ absence from duty; I would do well, therefore, to prepare some +plausible excuse, as it was not likely that his angry passion would be +placated until someone had been flogged. (Seeing that I was so vexed and +disheartened, Giton said not a word about the woman, contenting himself +with speaking of Eumolpus, and advising me that it would be better to +joke with him than to treat the matter seriously. I followed this lead +and appeared before the old fellow, with so merry a countenance that, +instead of showing severity, he received me with good humor and rallied +me upon the success of my love affairs, praising the elegance of my +figure which made me such a favorite with the ladies. “I know very +well,” he went on, “that a lovely woman is dying for love of you, +Encolpius, and this may come in handy for us, so play your part and I’ll +play mine, too!”) + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FORTIETH. + +(He was still speaking, when in came a) matron of the most exclusive +social set, Philumene by name, who had often, when young, extorted many +a legacy by means of her charms, but an old woman now, the flower of her +beauty faded, she threw her son and daughter in the way of childless old +men and through this substitution she contrived to continue her +established policy. She came to Eumolpus, both to commend her children +to his practical judgment and to entrust herself and her hopes to his +good nature, he being the only one in all the world who could daily +instruct young children in healthy precepts. In short, she left her +children in Eumolpus’ house in order that they might hear the words that +dropped from his lips, as this was the only legacy she could leave to +them. Nor did she do otherwise than as she had promised, but left in +his bed chamber a very beautiful daughter and her brother, a lad, and +pretended that she herself was compelled to go out to a temple to offer +up her vows. Eumolpus, who was so continent that even I was a boy in his +eyes, lost no time in inviting the damsel to sacrifice to the Aversa +Venus; but, as he had told everyone that he was gouty and that his back +was weak, and as he stood in danger of upsetting the whole farce if he +did not carefully live up to the pretence, he therefore, that the +imposture might be kept up, prevailed upon the young lady to seat herself +upon that goodness which had been commended to her, and ordered Corax to +crawl under the bed upon which he himself was lying and after bracing +himself by putting his hands upon the floor, to hoist his master up and +down with his own back. Corax carried out the order in full and +skillfully seconded the wriggling of the girl with a corresponding +seesaw. Then, when the crisis was about due, Eumolpus, in a ringing +voice, called out to Corax to increase the cadence. And thus the old +lecher, suspended between his servant and his mistress, enjoyed himself +just as if he were in a swing. Time and again Eumolpus repeated this +performance, to the accompaniment of ringing laughter in which he himself +joined. At last, fearing I might lose an opportunity through lack of +application, I also made advances to the brother who was enjoying the +gymnastics of his sister through the keyhole, to see if he would prove +amenable to assault. Nor did this well trained lad reject my advances; +but alas! I discovered that the God was still my enemy. (However, I was +not so blue over this failure as I had been over those before, and my +virility returned a little later and, suddenly finding myself in better +fettle I cried out,) “Great are the gods who have made me whole again! +In his loving kindness, Mercury, who conducts and reconducts the souls, +has restored to me that which a hostile hand had cut away. Look! You +will find that I am more graciously endowed than was Protestilaus or any +other of the heroes of old!” So saying, I lifted up my tunic and showed +Eumolpus that I was whole. At first he was startled, then, that he might +believe his own eyes, he handled this pledge of the good will of the gods +with both hands. (Our good humor was revived by this blessing and we +laughed at the diplomacy of Philumene and at the skill with which her +children plied their calling, little likely to profit them much with us, +however, as it was only in hopes of coming into a legacy that she had +abandoned the boy and girl to us. Meditating upon this unscrupulous +method of getting around childless old men, I began to take thought of +the present state of our own affairs and made use of the occasion to warn +Eumolpus that he might be bitten in biting the biters. “Everything that +we do,” I said, “should be dictated by Prudence.) Socrates, {whose +judgment was riper than that} of the gods or of men used to boast that he +had never looked into a tavern nor believed the evidence of his own eyes +in any crowded assembly which was disorderly: so nothing is more in +keeping than always conversing with wisdom. + + Live coals are more readily held in men’s mouths than a secret! + + Whatever you talk of at home will fly forth in an instant, + + Become a swift rumor and beat at the walls of your city. + + Nor is it enough that your confidence thus has been broken, + + As rumor but grows in the telling and strives to embellish. + + The covetous servant who feared to make public his knowledge + + A hole in the ground dug, and therein did whisper his secret + + That told of a king’s hidden ears: this the earth straightway + echoed, + + And rustling reeds added that Midas was king in the story. + +“Every word of this is true,” I insisted, “and no one deserves to get into +trouble more quickly than he who covets the goods of others! How could +cheats and swindlers live unless they threw purses or little bags +clinking with money into the crowd for bait? Just as dumb brutes are +enticed by food, human beings are not to be caught unless they have +something in the way of hope at which to nibble! (That was the reason +that the Crotonians gave us such a satisfactory reception, but) the ship +does not arrive, from Africa, with your money and your slaves, as you +promised. The patience of the fortune-hunters is worn out and they have +already cut down their liberality so that, either I am mistaken, or else +our usual luck is about to return to punish you!” + + + + +CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIRST. + +(“I have thought up a scheme,” replied Eumolpus, “which will embarrass +our fortune-hunting friends sorely,” and as he said this, he drew his +tablets from his wallet and read his last wishes aloud, as follows:) +“All who are down for legacies under my will, my freedmen only excepted, +shall come into what I bequeath them subject to this condition, that they +do cut my body into pieces and devour said pieces in sight of the crowd: +{nor need they be inordinately shocked} for among some peoples, the law +ordaining that the dead shall be devoured by their relatives is still in +force; nay, even the sick are often abused because they render their own +flesh worse! I admonish my friends, by these presents, lest they refuse +what I command, that they devour my carcass with as great relish as they +damned my soul!” (Eumolpus had just started reading the first clauses +when several of his most intimate friends entered the room and catching +sight of the tablets in his hand in which was contained his last will and +testament, besought him earnestly to permit them to hear the contents. +He consented immediately and read the entire instrument from first to +last. But when they had heard that extraordinary stipulation by which +they were under the necessity of devouring his carcass, they were greatly +cast down, but) his reputation for enormous wealth dulled the eyes and +brains of the wretches, (and they were such cringing sycophants that they +dared not complain of the outrage in his hearing. One there was, +nevertheless, named) Gorgias, who was willing to comply, (provided he did +not have too long to wait! To this, Eumolpus made answer:) “I have no +fear that your stomach will turn, it will obey orders; if, for one hour +of nausea you promise it a plethora of good things: just shut your eyes +and pretend that it’s not human guts you’ve bolted, but ten million +sesterces! And beside, we will find some condiment which will disguise +the taste! No flesh is palatable of itself, it must be seasoned by art +and reconciled to the unwilling stomach. And, if you desire to fortify +the plan by precedents, the Saguntines ate human flesh when besieged by +Hannibal, and they had no legacy in prospect! In stress of famine, the +inhabitants of Petelia did the same and gained nothing from the diet +except that they were not hungry! When Numantia was taken by Scipio, +mothers, with the half-eaten bodies of their babes in their bosoms, were +found! (Therefore, since it is only the thought of eating human flesh +that makes you squeamish, you must try to overcome your aversion, with +all your heart, so that you may come into the immense legacies I have put +you down for!” So carelessly did Eumolpus reel off these extravagances +that the fortune-hunters began to lose faith in the validity of his +promises and subjected our words and actions to a closer scrutiny +immediately; their suspicions grew with their experience and they came +to the conclusion that we were out and out grafters, and thereupon those +who had been put to the greatest expense for our entertainment resolved +to seize us and take it out in just revenge; but Chrysis, who was privy +to all their scheming, informed me of the designs which the Crotonians +had hatched; and when I heard this news, I was so terrified that I fled +instantly, with Giton, and left Eumolpus to his fate. I learned, a few +days later, that the Crotonians, furious because the old fox had lived +so long and so sumptuously at the public expense, had put him to death +in the Massilian manner. That you may comprehend what this means, know +that) whenever the Massilians were ravaged by the plague, one of the poor +would offer himself to be fed for a whole year upon choice food at public +charge; after which, decked out with olive branches and sacred vestments, +he was led out through the entire city, loaded with imprecations so that +he might take to himself the evils from which the city suffered, and then +thrown headlong (from the cliff.) + +THE END + + + +ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + +Death levels caste and sufferers unites +Face, rouged and covered with cosmetics +For one hour of nausea you promise it a plethora of good things +In the arrogance of success, had put on the manner of the master +Live coals are more readily held in men’s mouths than a secret +Putting as good a face upon the matter as I could +Rumor but grows in the telling and strives to embellish +Something in the way of hope at which to nibble +Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine +To follow all paths; but a road can discover by none +Whatever you talk of at home will fly forth in an instant + + + + + + NOTES + + +PROSTITUTION. + +There are two basic instincts in the character of the normal individual; +the will to live, and the will to propagate the species. It is from the +interplay of these instincts that prostitution took origin, and it is for +this reason that this profession is the oldest in human experience, the +first offspring, as it were, of savagery and of civilization. When Fate +turns the leaves of the book of universal history, she enters, upon the +page devoted thereto, the record of the birth of each nation in its +chronological order, and under this record appears the scarlet entry to +confront the future historian and arrest his unwilling attention; the +only entry which time and even oblivion can never efface. + +If, prior to the time of Augustus Caesar, the Romans had laws designed to +control the social evil, we have no knowledge of them, but there is +nevertheless no lack of evidence to prove that it was only too well known +among them long before that happy age (Livy i, 4; ii, 18); and the +peculiar story of the Bacchanalian cult which was brought to Rome by +foreigners about the second century B.C. (Livy xxxix, 9-17), and the +comedies of Plautus and Terence, in which the pandar and the harlot are +familiar characters. Cicero, Pro Coelio, chap. xx, says: “If there is +anyone who holds the opinion that young men should be interdicted from +intrigues with the women of the town, he is indeed austere! That, +ethically, he is in the right, I cannot deny: but nevertheless, he is at +loggerheads not only with the licence of the present age, but even with +the habits of our ancestors and what they permitted themselves. For when +was this NOT done? When was it rebuked? When found fault with?” The +Floralia, first introduced about 238 B.C., had a powerful influence in +giving impetus to the spread of prostitution. The account of the origin +of this festival, given by Lactantius, while no credence is to be placed +in it, is very interesting. “When Flora, through the practice of +prostitution, had come into great wealth, she made the people her heir, +and bequeathed a certain fund, the income of which was to be used to +celebrate her birthday by the exhibition of the games they call the +Floralia” (Instit. Divin. xx, 6). In chapter x of the same book, he +describes the manner in which they were celebrated: “They were solemnized +with every form of licentiousness. For in addition to the freedom of +speech that pours forth every obscenity, the prostitutes, at the +importunities of the rabble, strip off their clothing and act as mimes in +full view of the crowd, and this they continue until full satiety comes +to the shameless lookers-on, holding their attention with their wriggling +buttocks.” Cato, the censor, objected to the latter part of this +spectacle, but, with all his influence, he was never able to abolish it; +the best he could do was to have the spectacle put off until he had left +the theatre. Within 40 years after the introduction of this festival, +P. Scipio Africanus, in his speech in defense of Tib. Asellus, said: “If +you elect to defend your profligacy, well and good. But as a matter of +fact, you have lavished, on one harlot, more money than the total value, +as declared by you to the Census Commissioners, of all the plenishing of +your Sabine farm; if you deny my assertion I ask who dare wager 1,000 +sesterces on its untruth? You have squandered more than a third of the +property you inherited from your father and dissipated it in debauchery” + (Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae, vii, 11). It was about this time that +the Oppian law came up for repeal. The stipulations of this law were as +follows: No woman should have in her dress above half an ounce of gold, +nor wear a garment of different colors, nor ride in a carriage in the +city or in any town, or within a mile of it, unless upon occasion of a +public sacrifice. This sumptuary law was passed during the public +distress consequent upon Hannibal’s invasion of Italy. It was repealed +eighteen years afterward, upon petition of the Roman ladies, though +strenuously opposed by Cato (Livy 34, 1; Tacitus, Annales, 3, 33). The +increase of wealth among the Romans, the spoils wrung from their victims +as a portion of the price of defeat, the contact of the legions with the +softer, more civilized, more sensuous races of Greece and Asia Minor, +laid the foundations upon which the social evil was to rise above the +city of the seven hills, and finally crush her. In the character of the +Roman there was but little of tenderness. The well-being of the state +caused him his keenest anxiety. One of the laws of the twelve tables, +the “Coelebes Prohibito,” compelled the citizen of manly vigor to satisfy +the promptings of nature in the arms of a lawful wife, and the tax on +bachelors is as ancient as the times of Furius Camillus. “There was an +ancient law among the Romans,” says Dion Cassius, lib. xliii, “which +forbade bachelors, after the age of twenty-five, to enjoy equal political +rights with married men. The old Romans had passed this law in hope +that, in this way, the city of Rome, and the Provinces of the Roman +Empire as well, might be insured an abundant population.” The increase, +under the Emperors, of the number of laws dealing with sex is an accurate +mirror of conditions as they altered and grew worse. The “Jus Trium +Librorum,” under the empire, a privilege enjoyed by those who had three +legitimate children, consisting, as it did, of permission to fill +a public office before the twenty-fifth year of one’s age, and in +freedom from personal burdens, must have had its origin in the grave +apprehensions for the future, felt by those in power. The fact that this +right was sometimes conferred upon those who were not legally entitled +to benefit by it, makes no difference in this inference. Scions of +patrician families imbibed their lessons from the skilled voluptuaries +of Greece and the Levant and in their intrigues with the wantons of those +climes, they learned to lavish wealth as a fine art. Upon their return +to Rome they were but ill-pleased with the standard of entertainment +offered by the ruder and less sophisticated native talent; they imported +Greek and Syrian mistresses. ‘Wealth increased, its message sped in +every direction, and the corruption of the world was drawn into Italy as +by a load-stone. The Roman matron had learned how to be a mother, the +lesson of love was an unopened book; and, when the foreign hetairai +poured into the city, and the struggle for supremacy began, she soon +became aware of the disadvantage under which she contended. Her natural +haughtiness had caused her to lose valuable time; pride, and finally +desperation drove her to attempt to outdo her foreign rivals; her native +modesty became a thing of the past, her Roman initiative, unadorned by +sophistication, was often but too successful in outdoing the Greek and +Syrian wantons, but without the appearance of refinement which they +always contrived to give to every caress of passion or avarice. They +wooed fortune with an abandon that soon made them the objects of contempt +in the eyes of their lords and masters. “She is chaste whom no man has +solicited,” said Ovid (Amor. i, 8, line 43). Martial, writing about +ninety years later says: “Sophronius Rufus, long have I been searching +the city through to find if there is ever a maid to say ‘No’; there is +not one.” (Ep. iv, 71.) In point of time, a century separates Ovid and +Martial; from a moral standpoint, they are as far apart as the poles. +The revenge, then, taken by Asia, gives a startling insight into the real +meaning of Kipling’s poem, “The female of the species is more deadly than +the male.” In Livy (xxxiv, 4) we read: (Cato is speaking), “All these +changes, as day by day the fortune of the state is higher and more +prosperous and her empire grows greater, and our conquests extend over +Greece and Asia, lands replete with every allurement of the senses, and +we appropriate treasures that may well be called royal,--all this I dread +the more from my fear that such high fortune may rather master us, than +we master it.” Within twelve years of the time when this speech was +delivered, we read in the same author (xxxix, 6), “for the beginnings of +foreign luxury were brought into the city by the Asiatic army”; and +Juvenal (Sat. iii, 6), “Quirites, I cannot bear to see Rome a Greek city, +yet how small a fraction of the whole corruption is found in these dregs +of Achaea? Long since has the Syrian Orontes flowed into the Tiber and +brought along with it the Syrian tongue and manners and cross-stringed +harp and harper and exotic timbrels and girls bidden stand for hire at +the circus.” Still, from the facts which have come down to us, we cannot +arrive at any definite date at which houses of ill fame and women of the +town came into vogue at Rome. That they had long been under police +regulation, and compelled to register with the aedile, is evident from a +passage in Tacitus: “for Visitilia, born of a family of praetorian rank, +had publicly notified before the aediles, a permit for fornication, +according to the usage that prevailed among our fathers, who supposed +that sufficient punishment for unchaste women resided in the very nature +of their calling.” No penalty attached to illicit intercourse or to +prostitution in general, and the reason appears in the passage from +Tacitus, quoted above. In the case of married women, however, who +contravened the marriage vow there were several penalties. Among them, +one was of exceptional severity, and was not repealed until the time of +Theodosius: “again he repealed another regulation of the following +nature; if any should have been detected in adultery, by this plan she +was not in any way reformed, but rather utterly given over to an increase +of her ill behaviour. They used to shut the woman up in a narrow room, +admitting any that would commit fornication with her, and, at the moment +when they were accomplishing their foul deed, to strike bells, that the +sound might make known to all, the injury she was suffering. The Emperor +hearing this, would suffer it no longer, but ordered the very rooms to be +pulled down” (Paulus Diaconus, Hist. Miscel. xiii, 2). Rent from a +brothel was a legitimate source of income (Ulpian, Law as to Female +Slaves Making Claim to Heirship). Procuration also, had to be notified +before the aedile, whose special business it was to see that no Roman +matron became a prostitute. These aediles had authority to search every +place which had reason to fear anything, but they themselves dared not +engage in any immorality there; Aulus Gellius, Noct. Attic. iv, 14, +where an action at law is cited, in which the aedile Hostilius had +attempted to force his way into the apartments of Mamilia, a courtesan, +who thereupon, had driven him away with stones. The result of the trial +is as follows: “the tribunes gave as their decision that the aedile had +been lawfully driven from that place, as being one that he ought not to +have visited with his officer.” If we compare this passage with Livy, +xl, 35, we find that this took place in the year 180 B C. Caligula +inaugurated a tax upon prostitutes (vectigal ex capturis), as a state +impost: “he levied new and hitherto unheard of taxes; a proportion of the +fees of prostitutes;--so much as each earned with one man. A clause was +also added to the law directing that women who had practiced harlotry and +men who had practiced procuration should be rated publicly; and +furthermore, that marriages should be liable to the rate” (Suetonius, +Calig. xi). Alexander Severus retained this law, but directed that such +revenue be used for the upkeep of the public buildings, that it might not +contaminate the state treasure (Lamprid. Alex. Severus, chap. 24). This +infamous tax was not abolished until the time of Theodosius, but the real +credit is due to a wealthy patrician, Florentius by name, who strongly +censured this practice, to the Emperor, and offered his own property to +make good the deficit which would appear upon its abrogation (Gibbon, +vol. 2, p. 318, note). With the regulations and arrangements of the +brothels, however, we have information which is far more accurate. These +houses (lupanaria, fornices, et cet.) were situated, for the most part, +in the Second District of the City (Adler, Description of the City of +Rome, pp. 144 et seq.), the Coelimontana, particularly in the Suburra +that bordered the town walls, lying in the Carinae,--the valley between +the Coelian and Esquiline Hills. The Great Market (Macellum Magnum) was +in this district, and many cook-shops, stalls, barber shops, et cet. as +well; the office of the public executioner, the barracks for foreign +soldiers quartered at Rome; this district was one of the busiest and most +densely populated in the entire city. Such conditions would naturally be +ideal for the owner of a house of ill fame, or for a pandar. The regular +brothels are described as having been exceedingly dirty, smelling of the +gas generated by the flame of the smoking lamp, and of the other odors +which always haunted these ill ventilated dens. Horace, Sat. i, 2, 30, +“on the other hand, another will have none at all except she be standing +in the evil smelling cell (of the brothel)”; Petronius, chap. xxii, “worn +out by all his troubles, Ascyltos commenced to nod, and the maid, whom he +had slighted, and, of course, insulted, smeared lamp-black all over his +face”; Priapeia, xiii, 9, “whoever likes may enter here, smeared with the +black soot of the brothel”; Seneca, Cont. i, 2, “you reek still of the +soot of the brothel.” The more pretentious establishments of the Peace +ward, however, were sumptuously fitted up. Hair dressers were in +attendance to repair the ravages wrought in the toilette, by frequent +amorous conflicts, and aquarioli, or water boys attended at the door with +bidets for ablution. Pimps sought custom for these houses and there was +a good understanding between the parasites and the prostitutes. From the +very nature of their calling, they were the friends and companions of +courtesans. Such characters could not but be mutually necessary to each +other. The harlot solicited the acquaintance of the client or parasite, +that she might the more easily obtain and carry on intrigues with the +rich and dissipated. The parasite was assiduous in his attention to the +courtesan, as procuring through her means, more easy access to his +patrons, and was probably rewarded by them both, for the gratification +which he obtained for the vices of the one and the avarice of the other. +The licensed houses seem to have been of two kinds: those owned and +managed by a pandar, and those in which the latter was merely an agent, +renting rooms and doing everything in his power to supply his renters +with custom. The former were probably the more respectable. In these +pretentious houses, the owner kept a secretary, villicus puellarum, or +superintendent of maids; this official assigned a girl her name, fixed +the price to be demanded for her favors, received the money and provided +clothing and other necessities: “you stood with the harlots, you stood +decked out to please the public, wearing the costume the pimp had +furnished you”; Seneca, Controv. i, 2. Not until this traffic had become +profitable, did procurers and procuresses (for women also carried on this +trade) actually keep girls whom they bought as slaves: “naked she stood +on the shore, at the pleasure of the purchaser; every part of her body +was examined and felt. Would you hear the result of the sale? The +pirate sold; the pandar bought, that he might employ her as a +prostitute”; Seneca, Controv. lib. i, 2. It was also the duty of the +villicus, or cashier, to keep an account of what each girl earned: “give +me the brothel-keeper’s accounts, the fee will suit” (Ibid.) + +When an applicant registered with the aedile, she gave her correct name, +her age, place of birth, and the pseudonym under which she intended +practicing her calling. (Plautus, Poen.) + +If the girl was young and apparently respectable, the official sought to +influence her to change her mind; failing in this, he issued her a +license (licentia stupri), ascertained the price she intended exacting +for her favors, and entered her name in his roll. Once entered there, +the name could never be removed, but must remain for all time an +insurmountable bar to repentance and respectability. Failure to register +was severely punished upon conviction, and this applied not only to the +girl but to the pandar as well. The penalty was scourging, and +frequently fine and exile. Notwithstanding this, however, the number +of clandestine prostitutes at Rome was probably equal to that of the +registered harlots. As the relations of these unregistered women were, +for the most part, with politicians and prominent citizens it was very +difficult to deal with them effectively: they were protected by their +customers, and they set a price upon their favors which was commensurate +with the jeopardy in which they always stood. The cells opened upon a +court or portico in the pretentious establishments, and this court was +used as a sort of reception room where the visitors waited with covered +head, until the artist whose ministrations were particularly desired, +as she would of course be familiar with their preferences in matters of +entertainment, was free to receive them. The houses were easily found by +the stranger, as an appropriate emblem appeared over the door. This +emblem of Priapus was generally a carved figure, in wood or stone, and +was frequently painted to resemble nature more closely. The size ranged +from a few inches in length to about two feet. Numbers of these +beginnings in advertising have been recovered from Pompeii and +Herculaneum, and in one case an entire establishment, even to the +instruments used in gratifying unnatural lusts, was recovered intact. +In praise of our modern standards of morality, it should be said that it +required some study and thought to penetrate the secret of the proper use +of several of these instruments. The collection is still to be seen in +the Secret Museum at Naples. The mural decoration was also in proper +keeping with the object for which the house was maintained, and a few +examples of this decoration have been preserved to modern times; their +luster and infamous appeal undimmed by the passage of centuries. + +Over the door of each cell was a tablet (titulus) upon which was the name +of the occupant and her price; the reverse bore the word “occupata” and +when the inmate was engaged the tablet was turned so that this word was +out. This custom is still observed in Spain and Italy. Plautus, Asin. +iv, i, 9, speaks of a less pretentious house when he says: “let her write +on the door that she is ‘occupata.’” The cell usually contained a lamp +of bronze or, in the lower dens, of clay, a pallet or cot of some sort, +over which was spread a blanket or patch-work quilt, this latter being +sometimes employed as a curtain, Petronius, chap 7. + +The arches under the circus were a favorite location for prostitutes; +ladies of easy virtue were ardent frequenters of the games of the circus +and were always ready at hand to satisfy the inclinations which the +spectacles aroused. These arcade dens were called “fornices,” from which +comes our generic fornication. The taverns, inns, lodging houses, cook +shops, bakeries, spelt-mills and like institutions all played a prominent +part in the underworld of Rome. Let us take them in order: + +Lupanaria--Wolf Dens, from lupa, a wolf. The derivation, according to +Lactantius, is as follows: “for she (Lupa, i. e., Acca Laurentia) was the +wife of Faustulus, and because of the easy rate at which her person was +held at the disposal of all, was called, among the shepherds, ‘Lupa,’ +that is, harlot, whence also ‘lupanar,’ a brothel, is so called.” It may +be added, however, that there is some diversity of opinion upon this +matter. It will be discussed more fully under the word “lupa.” + +Fornix--An arch. The arcades under the theatres. + +Pergulae--Balconies, where harlots were shown. + +Stabulae--Inns, but frequently houses of prostitution. + +Diversorium--A lodging house; house of assignation. + +Tugurium--A hut. A very low den. + +Turturilla--A dove cote; frequently in male part. + +Casuaria--Road houses; almost invariably brothels. + +Tabernae--Bakery shops. + +The taverns were generally regarded by the magistrates as brothels and +the waitresses were so regarded by the law (Codex Theodos. lx, tit. 7, +ed. Ritter; Ulpian liiii, 23, De Ritu Nupt.). The Barmaid (Copa), +attributed to Virgil, proves that even the proprietress had two strings +to her bow, and Horace, Sat. lib. i, v, 82, in describing his excursion +to Brundisium, narrates his experience, or lack of it, with a waitress in +an inn. This passage, it should be remarked, is the only one in all his +works in which he is absolutely sincere in what he says of women. “Here +like a triple fool I waited till midnight for a lying jade till sleep +overcame me, intent on venery; in that filthy vision the dreams spot my +night clothes and my belly, as I lie upon my back.” In the AEserman +inscription (Mommsen, Inscr. Regn. Neap. 5078, which is number 7306 in +Orelli-Henzen) we have another example of the hospitality of these inns, +and a dialogue between the hostess and a transient. The bill for the +services of a girl amounted to 8 asses. This inscription is of great +interest to the antiquary, and to the archoeologist. That bakers were +not slow in organizing the grist mills is shown by a passage from Paulus +Diaconus, xiii, 2: “as time went on, the owners of these turned the +public corn mills into pernicious frauds. For, as the mill stones were +fixed in places under ground, they set up booths on either side of these +chambers and caused harlots to stand for hire in them, so that by these +means they deceived very many,--some that came for bread, others that +hastened thither for the base gratification of their wantonness.” From a +passage in Festus, it would seem that this was first put into practice in +Campania:--“harlots were called ‘aelicariae’, ‘spelt-mill girls, in +Campania, being accustomed to ply for gain before the mills of the +spelt-millers.” “Common strumpets, bakers’ mistresses, refuse the +spelt-mill girls,” says Plautus, i, ii, 54. + +There are few languages which are richer in pornographic terminology +than the Latin. + +Meretrix--Nomus Marcellus has pointed out the difference between this +class of prostitutes and the prostibula. “This is the difference between +a meretrix (harlot) and a prostibula (common strumpet): a meretrix is of +a more honorable station and calling; for meretrices are so named a +merendo (from earning wages) because they plied their calling only by +night; prostibulu because they stand before the stabulum (stall) for gain +both by day and night.” + +Prostibula--She who stands in front of her cell or stall. + +Proseda--She who sits in front of her cell or stall. She who later +became the Empress Theodora belonged to this class, if any credit is to +be given to Procopius. + +Nonariae--She that is forbidden to appear before the ninth hour. + +Mimae--Mime players. They were almost invariably prostitutes. + +Cymbalistriae--Cymbal players. They were almost invariably prostitutes. + +Ambubiae--Singing girls. They were almost invariably prostitutes. + +Citharistriae--Harpists. They were almost invariably prostitutes. + +Scortum--A strumpet. Secrecy is implied, but the word has a broad usage. + +Scorta erratica | Clandestine strumpets who were street walkers. +Secuteleia | + +Busturiae--Tomb frequenters and hangers-on at funerals. + +Copae--Bar maids. + +Delicatae--Kept mistresses. + +Famosae--Soiled doves from respectable families. + +Doris--Harlots of great beauty. They wore no clothing. + +Lupae--She wolves. Some authorities affirm that this name was given them +because of a peculiar wolflike cry they uttered, and others assert that +the generic was bestowed upon then because their rapacity rivalled that +of the wolf. Servius, however, in his commentary on Virgil, has assigned +a much more improper and filthy reason for the name; he alludes to the +manner in which the wolf who mothered Rotnulus and Reinus licked their +bodies with her tongue, and this hint is sufficient to confirm him in his +belief that the lupa; were not less skilled in lingual gymnastics. See +Lemaire’s Virgil, vol. vi, p. 521; commentary of Servius on AEneid, lib. +viii, 631. + +AElicariae--Bakers’ girls. + +Noctiluae--Night walkers. + +Blitidae--A very low class deriving their name from a cheap drink sold in +the dens they frequented. + +Forariae--Country girls who frequented the roads. + +Gallinae--Thieving prostitutes, because after the manner of hens, +prostitutes take anything and scatter everything. + +Diobolares--Two obol girls. So called from their price. + +Amasiae, also in the diminutive--Girls devoted to Venus. Their best +expression in modern society would be the “vamps.” + +Amatrix--Female lover, frequently in male part. + +Amica--Female friend, frequently a tribad. + +Quadrantariae--The lowest class of all. Their natural charms were no +longer merchantable. She of whom Catullus speaks in connection with the +lofty souled descendants of Remus was of this stripe. + +From many passages in the ancient authors it is evident that harlots +stood naked at the doors of their cells: “I saw some men prowling +stealthily between the rows of name-boards and naked prostitutes,” + Petronius, chap. 7. “She entered the brothel, cozy with its +crazy-quilt, and the empty cell--her own. Then, naked she stands, with +gilded nipples, beneath the tablet of the pretended Lysisca,” Juvenal, +Sat. vi, 121 et seq. In some cases they had recourse to a gossamer +tissue of silk gauze, as was formerly the custom in Paris, Chicago, and +San Francisco. “The matron has no softer thigh nor has she a more +beautiful leg,” says Horace, Sat. I, ii, “though the setting be one of +pearls and emeralds (with all due respect to thy opinion, Cerinthus), +the togaed plebeian’s is often the finer, and, in addition, the beauties +of figure are not camouflaged; that which is for sale, if honest, is +shown openly, whereas deformity seeks concealment. It is the custom +among kings that, when buying horses, they inspect them in the open, +lest, as is often the case, a beautiful head is sustained by a tender +hoof and the eager purchaser may be seduced by shapely hocks, a short +head, or an arching neck. Are these experts right in this? Thou canst +appraise a figure with the eyes of Lynceus and discover its beauties; +though blinder than Hypoesea herself thou canst see what deformities +there are. Ah, what a leg! What arms! But how thin her buttocks are, +in very truth what a huge nose she has, she’s short-waisted, too, and +her feet are out of proportion! Of the matron, except for the face, +nothing is open to your scrutiny unless she is a Catia who has dispensed +with her clothing so that she may be felt all over thoroughly, the rest +will be hidden. But as for the other, no difficulty there! Through the +Coan silk it is as easy for you to see as if she were naked, whether she +has an unshapely leg, whether her foot is ugly; her waist you can +examine with your eyes. As for the price exacted, it ranged from a +quadrans to a very high figure. In the inscription to which reference +has already been made, the price was eight asses. An episode related in +the life of Apollonius of Tyre furnishes additional information upon +this subject. The lecher who deflowered a harlot was compelled to pay a +much higher price for alleged undamaged goods than was asked of +subsequent purchasers. + +“Master,” cries the girl, throwing herself at his feet, “pity my +maidenhood, do not prostitute this body under so ugly a name.” The +superintendent of maids replies, “Let the maid here present be dressed up +with every care, let a name-ticket be written for her, and the fellow who +deflowers Tarsia shall pay half a libra; afterwards she shall be at the +service of the public for one solidus per head.” + +The passage in Petronius (chap. viii) and that in Juvenal (Sat. vi, 125) +are not to be taken literally. “Aes” in the latter should be understood +to mean what we would call “the coin,” and not necessarily coin of low +denomination. + + + + + + +PAEDERASTIA. + +The origin of this vice (all peoples, savage and civilized, have been +infected with it) is lost in the mists which shroud antiquity. The Old +Testament contains many allusions to it, and Sodom was destroyed because +a long-suffering deity could not find ten men in the entire city who were +not addicted to its practice. So saturated was this city of the ancient +world with the vice that the very name of the city or the adjective +denoting citizenship in that city have transmitted the stigma to modern +times. That the fathers of Israel were quick to perceive the tortuous +ramifications of this vice is proved by a passage in Deuteronomy, chap. +22, verse .5: “the woman shall not wear that which pertaineth to a man, +neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment: for all that do so are +abominations unto the Lord thy God.” Here we have the first regulation +against fetishism and the perverted tendencies of gynandry and androgeny. +Inasmuch as our concern with this subject has to do with the Roman world +alone, a lengthy discussion of the early, manifestations of this vice +would be out of place here; nevertheless, a brief sketch should be given +to serve as a foundation to such discussion and to aid sociologists who +will find themselves more and more concerned with the problem in view of +the conditions in European society, induced by the late war. Their +problem will, however, be more intimately concerned with homosexuality +as it is manifested among women! + +From remotest antiquity down to the present time, oriental nations have +been addicted to this practice and it is probably from this source that +the plague spread among the Greeks. I do not assert that they were +ignorant of this form of indulgence prior to their association with the +Persians, for Nature teaches the sage as well as the savage. Meier, the +author of the article “Paederastia” in Ersch and Grueber’s encyclopedia +(1837) is of the opinion that the vice had its origin among the +Boeotians, and John Addington Symonds in his essay on Greek Love concurs +in this view. As the two scholars worked upon the same material from +different angles, and as the English writer was unacquainted with the +German savant’s monograph until after Burton had written his Terminal +Essay, it follows that the conclusions arrived at by these two scholars +must be worthy of credence. The Greeks contemporary with the Homeric +poems were familiar with paederasty, and there is reason to believe that +it had been known for ages, even then. Greek Literature, from Homer to +the Anthology teems with references to the vice and so common was it +among them that from that fact it derived its generic; “Greek Love.” So +malignant is tradition that the Greeks of the present time still suffer +from the stigma, as is well illustrated by the proverb current among +sailors: “Englisha man he catcha da boy, Johnnie da Greek he catcha da +blame.” The Romans are supposed to have received their first +introduction to paederasty and homosexuality generally, from the +Etruscans or from the Greek colonists in Italy, but Suidas (Tharnyris) +charges the inhabitants of Italy; with the invention of this vice and it +would appear from Athenaeus (Deiphnos. lib. xiii) that the native peoples +of Italy and the Greek colonists as well were addicted to the most +revolting practices with boys. The case of Laetorius (Valerius Maximus +vi, 1, 11) proves that as early as 320 B. C., the Romans were no +strangers to it and also that it was not common among them, at that time. + +As the character of the primitive Roman was essentially different from +that of the contemporary Greek, and as his struggle for existence was +severe in the extreme, there was little moral obliquity during the first +two hundred and fifty years. The “coelibes prohibeto” of the Twelve +Tables was also a powerful influence in preserving chastity. By the time +of Plautus, however, the practice of paederasty was much more general, as +is clearly proved by the many references which are found in his comedies +(Cist. iv, sc. 1, line 5) and passim. By the year 169 B. C., the vice +had so ravaged the populace that the Lex Scantinia was passed to control +it, but legislation has never proved a success in repressing vice and the +effectiveness of this law was no exception to the rule. Conditions grew +steadily worse with the passage of time and the extension of the Roman +power served to inoculate the legionaries with the vices of their +victims. The destruction of Corinth may well have avenged itself in +this manner. The accumulation of wealth and spoils gave the people more +leisure, increased their means of enjoyment, and educated their taste in +luxuries. The influx of slaves and voluptuaries from the Levant aided in +the dissemination of the vices of the orient among the ruder Romans. As +the first taste of blood arouses the tiger, so did the limitless power of +the Republic and Empire react to the insinuating precepts of older and +more corrupt civilizations. The fragments of Lucilius make mention of +the “cinaedi,” in the sense that they were dancers, and in the earlier +ages, they were. Cicero, in the second Philippic calls Antonius a +catamite; but in Republican Rome, it is to Catullus that we must turn to +find the most decisive evidence of their almost universal inclination to +sodomy. The first notice of this passage in its proper significance is +found in the Burmann Petronius (ed. 1709): here, in a note on the correct +reading of “intertitulos, nudasque meretrices furtim conspatiantes,” the +ancient reading would seem to have been “internuculos nudasque meretrices +furtim conspatiantes” (and I am not at all certain but that it is to be +preferred). Burmann cites the passage from Catullus (Epithalamium of +Manlius and Julia); Burmann sees the force of the passage but does not +grasp its deeper meaning. Marchena seems to have been the first scholar +to read between the lines. See his third note. + +A few years later, John Colin Dunlop, the author of a History of Roman +Literature which ought to be better known among the teaching fraternity, +drew attention to the same passage. So striking is his comment that I +will transcribe it in full. “It,” the poem, “has also been highly +applauded by the commentators; and more than one critic has declared that +it must have been written by the hands of Venus and the Graces. I wish, +however, they had excepted from their unqualified panegyrics the coarse +imitation of the Fescennine poems, which leaves in our minds a stronger +impression of the prevalence and extent of Roman vices, than any other +passage in the Latin classics. Martial, and Catullus himself, elsewhere, +have branded their enemies; and Juvenal in bursts of satiric indignation, +has reproached his countrymen with the most shocking crimes. But here, +in a complimentary poem to a patron and intimate friend, these are +jocularly alluded to as the venial indulgences of his earliest youth” + (vol. i, p. 453, second edition). + +This passage clearly points to the fact that it was the common custom +among the young Roman patricians to have a bed-fellow of the same sex. +Cicero, in speaking of the acquittal of Clodius (Letters to Atticus, lib. +i, 18), says, “having bought up and debauched the tribunal”; charges that +the judges were promised the favors of the young gentlemen and ladies of +Rome, in exchange for their services in the matter of Clodius’ trial. +Manutius, in a note on this passage says, “bought up, because the judges +took their pay and held Clodius innocent and absolved him: debauched, +because certain women and youths of noble birth were introduced by night +to not a few of them (there were 56 judges) as additional compensation +for their attention to duty” (Variorum Notes to Cicero, vol. ii, +pp. 339-340). In the Priapeia, the wayfarer is warned by Priapus to +refrain from stealing fruit under penalty of being assaulted from the +rear, and the God adds that, should this punishment hold no terrors, +there is still the possibility that his mentule may be used as a club by +the irate landowner. Again, in Catullus, 100, the Roman paederasty +shows itself “Caelius loves Aufilenus and Quintus loves Aufilena +--madly.” As we approach the Christian era the picture darkens. +Gibbon (vol. i, p. 313) remarks, in a note, that “of the first fifteen +emperors, Claudius was the only one whose taste in love was entirely +correct,” but Claudius was a moron. + +We come now to the bathing establishments. Their history in every +country is the same, in one respect: the spreading and fostering of +prostitution and paederastia. Cicero (Pro Coelio) accuses Clodia of +having deliberately chosen the site of her gardens with the purpose of +having a look at the young fellows who came to the Tiber to swim. +Catullus (xxxiii) speaks of the cimaedi who haunt the bathing +establishments: Suetonius (Tib. 43 and 44) records the desperate +expedients to which Tiberius had recourse to regain his exhausted +virility: the scene in Petronius (chap. 92). Martial (lib. i, 24) + +“You invite no man but your bathing companion, Cotta, only the baths +supply you with a guest. I used to wonder why you never invited me, now +I know that you did not like the look of me naked.” Juvenal (ix, 32 et +seq.), “Destiny rules over mankind; the parts concealed by the front of +the tunic are controlled by the Fates; when Virro sees you naked and in +burning and frequent letters presses his ardent suit, with lips foaming +with desire; nothing will serve you so well as the unknown measure of a +long member.” Lampridius (Heliogab. v), “At Rome, his principal concern +was to have emissaries everywhere, charged with seeking out men with huge +members; that they might bring them to him so that he could enjoy their +impressive proportions.” The quotations given above furnish a sufficient +commentary upon the bathing establishments and the reasons for lighting +them. In happier times, they were badly lighted as the apertures were +narrow and could admit but little light. Seneca (Epist. 86) describes +the bath of Scipio: “In this bath of Scipio there were tiny chinks, +rather than windows, cut through the stone wall so as to admit light +without detriment to the shelter afforded; but men nowadays call them +‘baths-for-night-moths.’” Under the empire, however, the bathing +establishments were open to the eye of the passer-by; lighted, as they +were by immense windows. Seneca (Epist. 86), “But nowadays, any which +are disposed in such a way as to let the sunlight enter all day long, +through immense windows; men call baths-for-night-moths; if they are not +sunburned as they wash, if they cannot look out on the fields and sea +from the pavement. Sweet clean baths have been introduced, but the +populace is only the more foul.” In former times, youth and age were not +permitted to bathe together (Valer. Max. ii, 7.), women and men used the +same establishments, but at different hours; later, however, promiscuous +bathing was the order of the day and men and women came more and more to +observe that precept, “noscetur e naso quanta sit hasta viro,” which Joan +of Naples had always in mind. Long-nosed men were followed into the +baths and were the recipients of admiration wherever they were. As +luxury increased, these establishments were fitted up with cells and +attendants of both sexes, skilled in massage, were always kept upon the +premises, in the double capacity of masseurs and prostitutes (Martial, +iii, 82, 13); (Juvenal, vi, 428), “the artful masseur presses the +clitoris with his fingers and makes the upper part of his mistress thigh +resound under his hands.” The aquarioli or water boys also included +pandering in their tour of duty (Juvenal, Sat. vi, 331) “some water +carrier will come, hired for the purpose,” and many Roman ladies had +their own slaves accompany them to the baths to assist in the toilette: +(Martial, vii, 3.4) “a slave girt about the loins with a pouch of black +leather stands by you whenever you are washed all over with warn water,” + here, the mistress is taking no chances, her rights are as carefully +guarded as though the slave were infibulated in place of having his +generous virility concealed within a leather pouch. (Claudianus, 18, +106) “he combed his mistress’ hair, and often, when she bathed, naked, +he would bring water, to his lady, in a silver ewer.” Several of the +emperors attempted to correct these evils by executive order and +legislation, Hadrian (Spartianus, Life of Hadrian, chap. 18) “he assigned +separate baths for the two sexes”; Marcus Aurelius (Capitolinus, Life of +Marcus Antoninus, chap. 23) “he abolished the mixed baths and restrained +the loose habits of the Roman ladies and the young nobles,” and Alexander +Severus (Lampridius, Life of Alex. Severus, chap. 24.) “he forbade the +opening of mixed baths at Rome, a practice which, though previously +prohibited, Heliogabalus had allowed to be observed,” but, +notwithstanding their absolute authority, their efforts along those lines +met with little better success than have those of more recent times. The +pages of Martial and Juvenal reek with the festering sores of the society +of that period, but Charidemus and Hedylus still dishonor the cities of +the modern world. Tatian, writing in the second century, says (Orat. ad +Graecos): “paederastia is practiced by the barbarians generally, but is +held in pre-eminent esteem by the Romans, who endeavor to get together +troupes of boys, as it were of brood mares,” and Justin Martyr (Apologia, +1), has this to say: “first, because we behold nearly all men seducing to +fornication, not merely girls, but males also. And just as our fathers +are spoken of as keeping herds of oxen, or goats, or sheep, or brood +mares, so now they keep boys, solely for the purpose of shameful usage, +treating them as females, or androgynes, and doing unspeakable acts. To +such a pitch of pollution has the multitude throughout the whole people +come!” Another sure indication of the prevalence of the vice of sodomy +is to be found in Juvenal, Sat. ii, 12-13, “but your fundament is smooth +and the swollen haemorrhoids are incised, the surgeon grinning the +while,” just as the physician of the nineties grinned when some young +fool came to him with a blennorrhoeal infection! The ancient jest which +accounts for the shaving of the priest’s crown is an inferential +substantiation of the fact that the evils of antiquity, like the legal +codes, have descended through the generations; survived the middle ages, +and been transmitted to the modern world. A perusal of the Raggionamente +of Pietro Aretino will confirm this statement, in its first premise, and +the experiences of Sir Richard Burton in the India of Napier, and Harry +Franck’s, in Spain, in the present century, and those of any intelligent +observer in the Orient, today, will but bear out this hypothesis. The +native population of Manila contains more than its proportion of +catamites, who seek their sponsors in the Botanical Gardens and on the +Luneta. The native quarters of the Chinese cities have their “houses” + where boys are kept, just as the Egyptian mignons stood for hire in the +lupanaria at Rome. A scene in Sylvia Scarlett could be duplicated in any +large city of Europe or America; there is no necessity of appeal to +Krafft-Ebbing or Havelock Ellis. But there is still another and surer +method of gauging the extent of paederastic perversion at Rome, and that +is the richness of the Latin vocabulary in terms and words bearing upon +this repulsive subject. There are, in the Latin language, no less than +one hundred and fifteen words and expressions in general usage. + +But it is in Martial that we are able to sense the abandoned and +cynical attitude of the Roman public toward this vice: the epigram upon +Cantharus, xi, 46, is an excellent example. In commentating upon the +meticulous care with which Cantharus avoided being spied upon by +irreverent witnesses, the poet sarcastically remarks that such +precautions would never enter the head of anyone were it merely a +question of having a boy or a woman, and he mentions them in the order +in which they are set forth here. No one dreads the limelight like the +utter debauchee, as has been remarked by Seneca. We find a parallel in +the old days in Shanghai, before the depredations of the American +hetairai had aroused the hostility of the American judge, in 1907-8. Men +of unquestioned respectability and austere asceticism were in the habit +of making periodic trips to this pornographic Mecca for the reason that +they could there be accommodated with the simultaneous ministrations of +two or even three soiled doves of the stripe of her of whom Martial (ix, +69) makes caustic mention: + +“I passed the whole night with a lascivious girl whose naughtiness none +could surpass. Tired of a thousand methods of indulgence, I begged the +boyish favor: she granted my prayers before they were finished, before +even the first words were out of my mouth. Smiling and blushing, I +besought her for something worse still; she voluptuously promised it at +once. But to me, she was chaste. But, AEschylus, she will not be so to +you; take the boon if you want it, but she will attach a condition.” In +all that could pertain to accomplished skill in their profession, the +“limit was the ceiling,” they were there to serve, and serve they did, +as long as the recipient of their ministrations was willing to pay or as +long as his chits were good. With them, secrecy was the watchword. +Tiberius, probably more sinned against than sinning (he has had an able +defender in Beasley) is charged, by Suetonius, with the invention of an +amplification and refinement of this vice. The performers were called +“spinthriae,” a word which signified “bracelet.” These copulators could +be of both sexes though the true usage of the word allowed but one, and +that the male. They formed a chain, each link of which was an individual +in sexual contact with one or two other links: in this diversion, the +preference seems to have been in favor of odd numbers (Martial, xii, 44, +5), where the chain consisted of five links, and Ausonius, Epigram 119, +where it consisted of three. + + + + +CHAPTER NOTES + + +CHAPTER 9. Gladiator obscene:-- + +The arena of his activities is, however, that of Venus and not Mars. +Petronius is fond of figurative language, and in several other passages, +he has made use of the slang of the arena: (chap. 61 ), “I used to fence +with my mistress herself, until even the master grew Suspicious”; and +again, in chapter 19, he says: “then, too, we were girded higher, and I +had so arranged matters that if we came to close quarters, I myself would +engage Quartilla, Ascyltos the maid, and Giton the girl.” + +Dufour, in commentating upon this expression, Histoire de la +Prostitution, vol. III, pp. 92 and 93, remarks: It is necessary to see in +Petronius the abominable role which the “obscene gladiator” played; but +the Latin itself is clear enough to describe all the secrets of the Roman +debauch. “For some women,” says Petronius, in another passage, “will +only kindle for canaille and cannot work up an appetite unless they see +some slave or runner with his clothing girded up: a gladiator arouses +one, or a mule driver, all covered with dust, or some actor posturing in +some exhibition on the stage. My mistress belongs to this class, she +jumps the fourteen rows from the stage to the gallery and looks for a +lover among the gallery gods at the back.” + +On “cum fortiter faceres,” compare line 25 of the Oxford fragment of the +sixth satire of Juvenal; “hic erit in lecto fortissimus,” which Housman +has rendered “he is a valiant mattress-knight.” + + + + +CHAPTER 17. “In our neighborhood there are so many Gods that it is +easier to meet one of them than it is to find a man.” + +Quartilla is here smarting under the sting of some former lover’s +impotence. Her remark but gives color to the charge that, owing to the +universal depravity of Rome and the smaller cities, men were so worn out +by repeated vicious indulgences that it was no easy matter for a woman to +obtain satisfaction at their hands. + +“Galla, thou hast already led to the nuptial couch six or seven +catamites; thou went seduced by their delicate coiffure and combed +beards. Thou hast tried the loins and the members, resembling soaked +leather, which could not be made to stand by all the efforts of the +wearied hand; the pathic husband and effeminate bed thou desertest, but +still thou fallest into similar couches. Seek out some one rough and +unpolished as the Curii and Fabii, and savage in his uncouth rudeness; +you will find one, but even this puritanical crew has its catamites. +Galla, it is difficult to marry a real man.” Martial, vii, 57. + +“No faith is to be placed in appearances. What neighborhood does not +reek with filthy practices’?” Juvenal, Sat. ii, 8. + +“While you have a wife such as a lover hardly dare hope for in his +wildest prayers; rich, well born, chaste, you, Bassus, expend your +energies on boys whom you have procured with your wife’s dowry; and thus +does that penis, purchased for so many thousands, return worn out to its +mistress, nor does it stand when she rouses it by soft accents of love, +and delicate fingers. Have some sense of shame or let us go into court. +This penis is not yours, Bassus, you have sold it.” Martial, xii, 99. + +“Polytimus is very lecherous on women, Hypnus is slow to admit he is my +Ganymede; Secundus has buttocks fed upon acorns. Didymus is a catamite +but pretends not to be. Amphion would have made a capital girl. My +friend, I would rather have their blandishments, their naughty airs, +their annoying impudence, than a wife with 3,000,000 sesterces.” Martial +xii, 76. + +But the crowning piece of infamy is to be found in Martial’s three +epigrams upon his wife. They speak as distinctly as does the famous +passage in Catullus’ Epithalamium of Manilius and Julia, or Vibia, as +later editors have it. + +“Wife, away, or conform to my habits. I am no Curius, Numa, or Tatius. +I like to have the hours of night prolonged in luscious cups. You drink +water and are ever for hurrying from the table with a sombre mien; you +like the dark, I like a lamp to witness my pleasures, and to tire my +loins in the light of dawn. Drawers and night gowns and long robes cover +you, but for me no girl can be too naked. For me be kisses like the +cooing doves; your kisses are like those you give your grandmother in +the morning. You do not condescend to assist in the performance by your +movements or your sighs or your hand; (you behave) as if you were taking +the sacrament. The Phrygian slaves masturbated themselves behind the +couch whenever Hector’s wife rode St. George; and, however much Ulysses +snored, the chaste Penelope always had her hand there. You forbid my +sodomising you. Cornelia granted this favor to Gracchus; Julia to +Pompey, Porcia to Brutus. Juno was Jupiter’s Ganymede before the Dardan +boy mixed the luscious cup. If you are so devoted to propriety--be a +Lucretia to your heart’s content all day, I want a Lais at night.” xi, +105. + +“Since your husband’s mode of life and his fidelity are known to you, and +no woman usurps your rights, why are you so foolish as to be annoyed by +his boys, (as if they were his mistresses), with whom love is a transient +and fleeting affair? I will prove to you that you gain more by the boys +than your lord: they make your husband keep to one woman. They give what +a wife will not give. ‘I grant that favor,’ you say, ‘sooner than that +my husband’s love should wander from my bed.’ It is not the same thing. +I want the fig of Chios, not a flavorless fig; and in you this Chian fig +is flavorless. A woman of sense and a wife ought to know her place. Let +the boys have what concerns them, and confine yourself to what concerns +you.” xii, 97. + +“Wife, you scold me with a harsh voice when I’m caught with a boy, and +inform me that you too have a bottom. How often has Juno said the same +to the lustful Thunderer? And yet he sleeps with the tall Ganymede. The +Tirynthian Hero put down his bow and sodomised Hylas. Do you think that +Megaera had no buttocks? Daphne inspired Phoebus with love as she fled, +but that flame was quenched by the OEbalian boy. However much Briseis +lay with her bottom turned toward him, the son of AEacus found his +beardless friend more congenial to his tastes. Forbear then, to give +masculine names to what you have, and, wife, think that you have two +vaginas.” xi, 44 + + + + +CHAPTER 26. “Quartilla applied a curious eye to a chink, purposely made, +watching their childish dalliance with lascivious attention.” + +Martial, xi, 46, makes mention of the fact that patrons of houses of ill +fame had reason to beware of needle holes in the walls, through which +their misbehaviour could be appreciatively scrutinized by outsiders; and +in the passage of our author we find yet another instance of the same +kind. One is naturally led to recall the “peep-houses” which were a +feature of city life in the nineties. There was a notorious one in +Chicago, and another in San Francisco. A beautiful girl, exquisitely +dressed, would entice the unwary stranger into her room: there the couple +would disrobe and the hero was compelled to have recourse to the “right +of capture,” before executing the purpose for which he entered the house. +The entertainment usually cost him nothing beyond a moderate fee and a +couple of bottles of beer, or wine, if he so desired. The “management” + secured its profit from a different and more prurient source. The male +actor in this drama was sublimely ignorant of the fact that the walls +were plentifully supplied with “peep-holes” through which appreciative +onlookers witnessed his Corybantics at one dollar a head. There would +sometimes be as many as twenty such witnesses at a single performance. + + + + +CHAPTER 34. Silver Skeleton, et seq. + +Philosophic dogmas concerning the brevity and uncertainty of life were +ancient even in the time of Herodotus. They have left their mark upon +our language in the form of more than one proverb, but in none is this +so patent as “the skeleton at the feast.” In chapter lxxviii of Euterpe, +we have an admirable citation. In speaking of the Egyptians, he says: +“At their convivial banquets, among the wealthy classes, when they have +finished supper, a man carries round in a coffin the image of a dead body +carved in wood, made as life-like as possible in color and workmanship, +and in size generally about one or two cubits in length; and showing this +to each of the company, he says: ‘Look upon this, then drink and enjoy +yourself; for when dead you will be like this.’ This is the practice +they have at their drinking parties.” According to Plutarch, (Isis and +Osiris, chapter 17.) the Greeks adopted this Egyptian custom, and there +is, of course, little doubt that the Romans took it from the Greeks. +The aim of this custom was, according to Scaliger, to bring the diners +to enjoy the sweets of life while they were able to feel enjoyment, and +thus to abandon themselves to pleasure before death deprived them of +everything. The verses which follow bring this out beautifully. In the +Copa of Virgil we find the following: + +“Wine there! Wine and dice! Tomorrow’s fears shall fools alone benumb! +By the ear Death pulls me. ‘Live!’ he whispers softly, ‘Live! I come.’” + +The practical philosophy of the indefatigable roues sums itself up in +this sentence uttered by Trimalchio. The verb “vivere” has taken a +meaning very much broader and less special, than that which it had at +the time when it signified only the material fact of existence. The +voluptuaries of old Rome were by no means convinced that life without +license was life. The women of easy virtue, living within the circle +of their friendships, after the fashion best suited to their desires, +understood that verb only after their own interpretation, and the +philologists soon reconciled themselves to the change. In this sense it +was that Varro employed “vivere,” when he said: “Young women, make haste +to live, you whom adolescence permits to enjoy, to eat, to love, and to +occupy the chariot of Venus (Veneris tenere bigas).” + +But a still better example of the extension in the meaning of this word +is to be found in an inscription on the tomb of a lady of pleasure. This +inscription was composed by a voluptuary of the school of Petronius. + + ALIAE. RESTITVTAE. ANIMAE. DVLCISSIMAE. + BELLATOR. AVG. LIB. CONIVGI. CARISSIMAE. + AMICI. DVM. VIVIMVS. VIVAMUS. + +In this inscription, it is almost impossible to translate the last three +words. “While we live, let us live,” is inadequate, to say the least. +So far did this doctrine go that latterly it was deemed necessary to have +a special goddess as a patron. That goddess, if we may rely upon the +authority of Festus, took her name “Vitula” from the word “Vita” or from +the joyous life over which she was to preside. + + + + +CHAPTER 36. “At the corners of the tray we also noted four figures of +Marsyas and from their bladders spouted a highly seasoned sauce upon fish +which were swimming about as if in a tide-race.” + +German scholars have adopted the doctrine that Marsyas belonged to that +mythological group which they designate as “Schlauch-silen” or, as we +would say in English, “Wineskin-bearing Silenuses.” Their hypothesis +seems to be based upon the discovery of two beautiful bas-reliefs of the +age of Vespasian, which were excavated near the Rostra Vetera in the +Forum. Sir Theodore Martin has a note on these bas-reliefs which I quote +in extenso: + +“In the Forum stood a statue of Marsyas, Apollo’s ill-starred rival. It +probably bore an expression of pain, which Horace humorously ascribes to +dislike of the looks of the Younger Novius, who is conjectured to have +been of the profession and nature of Shylock. A naked figure carrying a +wineskin, which appears upon each of two fine bas-reliefs of the time of +Vespasian found near the Rostra Vetera in the Forum during the +excavations conducted within the last few years by Signor Pietro Rosa, +and which now stand in the Forum, is said, by archaeologists, to +represent Marsyas. Why they arrive at this conclusion, except as +arguing, from the spot where these bas-reliefs were found, that they were +meant to perpetuate the remembrance of the old statue of Marsyas, is +certainly not very apparent from anything in the figure itself.” + Martin’s Horace, vol. 2, pp 145-6. + +Hence German philologists render “utriculis” by the German equivalent for +“Wineskins.” + +“The Romans,” says Weitzius, “had two sources of water-supply, through +underground channels, and through channels supported by arches. As +adjuncts to these channels there were cisterns (or castella, as they were +called). From these reservoirs the water was distributed to the public +through routes more or less circuitous and left the cisterns through +pipes, the diameter of which was reckoned in either twelfths or +sixteenths of a Roman foot. At the exits of the pipes were placed stones +or stone figures, the water taking exit from these figures either by the +mouth, private parts or elsewhere, and falling either to the ground or +into some stone receptacle such as a basket. Various names were given +these statuettes: Marsyae, Satyri, Atlantes, Hermae, Chirones, Silani, +Tulii.” + +No one who has been through the Secret Museum at Naples will find much +difficulty in recalling a few of these heavily endowed examples to mind, +and our author, in choosing Marsyae, adds a touch of sarcastic realism, +for statues of Marysas were often set up in free cities, symbolical, as +it were, of freedom. In such a setting as the present, they would be the +very acme of propriety. + +“The figures,” says Gonzala de Salas, “formerly placed at fountains, and +from which water took exit either from the mouth or from some other part, +took their forms from the several species of Satyrs. The learned +Wouweren has commented long and learnedly upon this passage, and his +emendation ‘veretriculis’ caused me to laugh heartily. And as a matter +of fact, I affirm that such a meaning is easily possible.” Professor E. +P. Crowell, the first American scholar to edit Petronius, gravely states +in his preface that “the object of this edition is to provide for +class-room use an expurgated text,” and I note that he has tactfully +omitted the “wineskins” from his edition. + +In this connection the last sentence in the remarks of Wouweren, alluded +to above, is strangely to the point. After stating his emendation of +“veretriculis or veretellis” for “utriculis,” he says: “Unless someone +proves that images of Marsyas were fashioned in the likeness of +bag-pipers,” a fine instance of clarity of vision for so dark an age. + + + + +CHAPTER 40. “Drawing his hunting-knife, he plunged it fiercely into the +boar’s side, and some thrushes flew out of the gash.” + +In the winter of 1895 a dinner was given in a New York studio. This +dinner, locally known as the “Girl in the Pie Dinner,” was based upon +Petronius, Martial, and the thirteenth book of Athenaeus. In the summer +of 1919, I had the questionable pleasure of interviewing the chef-caterer +who got it up, and he was, at the time, engaged in trying to work out +another masterpiece to be given in California. The studio, one of the +most luxurious in the world, was transformed for the occasion into a +veritable rose grotto, the statuary was Pompeian, and here and there +artistic posters were seen which were nothing if not reminiscent of +Boulevard Clichy and Montmartre in the palmiest days. Four negro banjo +players and as many jubilee singers titillated the jaded senses of the +guests in a manner achieved by the infamous saxophone syncopating jazz of +the Barbary Coast of our times. The dinner was over. The four and one +half bottles of champagne allotted to each Silenus had been consumed, and +a well-defined atmosphere of bored satiety had begun to settle down when +suddenly the old-fashioned lullaby “Four and Twenty Blackbirds” broke +forth from the banjoists and singers. Four waiters came in bearing a +surprisingly monstrous object, something that resembled an impossibly +large pie. They, placed it carefully in the center of the table. The +negro chorus swelled louder and louder--“Four and Twenty Blackbirds Baked +in a Pie.” + +The diners, startled into curiosity and then into interest, began to poke +their noses against this gigantic creation of the baker. In it they +detected a movement not unlike a chick’s feeble pecking against the shell +of an egg. A quicker movement and the crust ruptured at the top. + +A flash of black gauze and delicate flesh showed within. A cloud of +frightened yellow canaries flew out and perched on the picture frames and +even on the heads and shoulders of the guests. + +But the lodestone which drew and held the eyes of all the revellers was +an exquisitely slender, girlish figure amid the broken crust of the pie. +The figure was draped with spangled black gauze, through which the girl’s +marble white limbs gleamed like ivory seen through gauze of gossamer +transparency. She rose from her crouching posture like a wood nymph +startled by a satyr, glanced from one side to the other, and stepped +timidly forth to the table. + + + + +CHAPTER 56. Contumelia--Contus and Melon (malum). + +All translators have rendered “contus” by “pole,” notwithstanding the +fact that the word is used in a very different sense in Priapeia, x, 3: +“traiectus conto sic extendere pedali,” and contrary to the tradition +which lay behind the gift of an apple or the acceptance of one. The +truth of this may be established by many passages in the ancient writers. + +In the “Clouds” of Aristophanes, Just Discourse, in prescribing the rules +and proprieties which should in govern the education and conduct of the +healthy young man says: + +“You shall rise up from your seat upon your elders’ approach; you shall +never be pert to your parents or do any other unseemly act under the +pretence of remodelling the image of Modesty. You will not rush off to +the dancing-girl’s house, lest while you gaze upon her charms, some whore +should pelt you with an apple and ruin your reputation.” + +“This were gracious to me as in the story old to the maiden fleet of foot +was the apple golden fashioned which unloosed her girdle long-time girt.” + Catullus ii. + +“I send thee these verses recast from Battiades, lest thou shouldst +credit thy words by chance have slipped from my mind, given o’er to the +wandering winds, as it was with that apple, sent as furtive love token by +the wooer, which out-leaped from the virgin’s chaste bosom: for, placed +by the hapless girl ‘neath her soft vestment, and forgotten--when she +starts at her mother’s approach, out ‘tis shaken: and down it rolls +headlong to the ground, whilst a tell-tale flush mantles the cheek of the +distressed girl.” Catullus 1xv. + +“But I know what is going on, and I intend presently to tell my master; +for I do not want to show myself less grateful than the dogs which bark +in defence of those who feed and take care of them. An adulterer is +laying siege to the household--a young man from Elis, one of the Olympian +fascinators; he sends neatly folded notes every day to our master’s wife, +together with faded bouquets and half-eaten apples.” Alciphron, iii, 62. +The words are put into the mouth of a rapacious parasite who feels that +the security of his position in the house is about to be shaken. + +“I didn’t mind your kissing Cymbalium half-a-dozen times, you only +disgraced yourself; but--to be always winking at Pyrallis, never to drink +without lifting the cup to her, and then to whisper to the boy, when you +handed it to him, not to fill it for anyone but her--that was too much! +And then--to bite a piece off an apple, and when you saw that Duphilus +was busy talking to Thraso, to lean forward and throw it right into her +lap, without caring whether I saw it or not; and she kissed it and put it +into her bosom under her girdle! It was scandalous! Why do you treat me +like this?” Lucian, Dial. Hetairae, 12. These words are spoken by +another apostle of direct speech; a jealous prostitute who is furiously +angry with her lover, and in no mood to mince matters in the slightest. + +Aristxnetus, xxv, furnishes yet another excellent illustration. +The prostitute Philanis, in writing to a friend of the same ancient +profession, accuses her sister of alienating her lover’s affections. +I avail myself of Sheridan’s masterly version. + + PHILANIS TO PETALA. + + As yesterday I went to dine + With Pamphilus, a swain of mine, + I took my sister, little heeding + The net I for myself was spreading + Though many circumstances led + To prove she’d mischief in her head. + For first her dress in every part + Was studied with the nicest art + Deck’d out with necklaces and rings, + And twenty other foolish things; + + And she had curl’d and bound her hair + With more than ordinary care + And then, to show her youth the more, + A light, transparent robe she wore-- + From head to heel she seemed t’admire + In raptures all her fine attire: + And often turn’d aside to view + If others gazed with rapture too. + At dinner, grown more bold and free, + She parted Pamphilus and me; + For veering round unheard, unseen, + She slily drew her chair between. + Then with alluring, am’rous smiles + And nods and other wanton wiles, + The unsuspecting youth insnared, + And rivall’d me in his regard.-- + Next she affectedly would sip + The liquor that had touched his lip. + He, whose whole thoughts to love incline, + And heated with th’ enliv’ning wine, + With interest repaid her glances, + And answer’d all her kind advances. + Thus sip they from the goblet’s brink + Each other’s kisses while they drink; + Which with the sparkling wine combin’d, + Quick passage to the heart did find. + Then Pamphilus an apple broke, + And at her bosom aim’d the stroke, + While she the fragment kiss’d and press’d, + And hid it wanton in her breast. + But I, be sure, was in amaze, + To see my sister’s artful ways: + “These are returns,” I said, “quite fit + To me, who nursed you when a chit. + For shame, lay by this envious art; + Is this to act a sister’s part?” + But vain were words, entreaties vain, + The crafty witch secured my swain. + By heavens, my sister does me wrong; + But oh! she shall not triumph long. + Well Venus knows I’m not in fault + ‘Twas she who gave the first assault + And since our peace her treach’ry broke, + Let me return her stroke for stroke. + She’ll quickly feel, and to her cost, + Not all their fire my eyes have lost + And soon with grief shall she resign + Six of her swains for one of mine.” + +The myth of Cydippe and Acontius is still another example, as is the +legend of Atalanta and Hippomenes or Meilanion, to which Suetonius +(Tiberius, chap. 44) has furnished such an unexpected climax. The +emperor Theodosius ordered the assassination of a gallant who had given +the queen an apple. As beliefs of this type are an integral part of the +character of the lower orders, I am certain that the passage in Petronius +is not devoid of sarcasm; and if such is the case, “contus” cannot be +rendered “pole.” The etymology of the word contumely is doubtful but I +am of the opinion that the derivation suggested here is not unsound. A +recondite rendering of “contus” would surely give a sharper point to the +joke and furnish the riddle with the sting of an epigram. + + + + +CHAPTER 116. “You will see a town that resembles the fields in time of +pestilence.” + +In tracing this savage caricature, Petronius had in mind not Crotona +alone; he refers to conditions in the capital of the empire. The +descriptions which other authors have set down are equally remarkable for +their powerful coloring, and they leave us with an idea of Rome which is +positively astounding in its unbridled luxury. ‘We will rest content +with offering to our readers the following portrayal, quoted from +Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xiv, chap. 6, and lib. xxviii, chap. 4. will +not presume to attempt any translation after having read Gibbon’s version +of the combination of these two chapters. + +“The greatness of Rome was founded on the rare and almost incredible +alliance of virtue and of fortune. The long period of her infancy was +employed in a laborious struggle against the tribes of Italy, the +neighbors and enemies of the rising city. In the strength and ardor of +youth she sustained the storms of war, carried her victorious arms beyond +the seas and the mountains, and brought home triumphal laurels from every +country of the globe. At length, verging towards old age, and sometimes +conquering by the terror only of her name, she sought the blessings of +ease and tranquillity. The venerable city, which had trampled on the +necks of the fiercest nations, and established a system of laws, the +perpetual guardians of justice and freedom, was content, like a wise and +wealthy parent, to devolve on the Caesars, her favorite sons, the care of +governing her ample patrimony. A secure and profound peace, such as had +been once enjoyed in the reign of Numa, succeeded to the tumults of a +republic; while Rome was still adored as the queen of the earth, and the +subject nations still reverenced the name of the people and the majesty +of the senate. But this native splendor is degraded and sullied by the +conduct of some nobles, who, unmindful of their own dignity, and of that +of their country, assume an unbounded license of vice and folly. They +contend with each other in the empty vanity of titles and surnames, and +curiously select or invent the most lofty and sonorous appellations +--Reburrus or Fabunius, Pagonius or Tarrasius--which may impress the ears +of the vulgar with astonishment and respect. From a vain ambition of +perpetuating their memory, they affect to multiply their likeness in +statues of bronze and marble; nor are they satisfied unless those statues +are covered with plates of gold, an honorable distinction, first granted +to Achilius the consul, after he had subdued by his arms and counsels the +power of King Antiochus. The ostentation of displaying, of magnifying +perhaps, the rent-roll of the estates which they possess in all the +provinces, from the rising to the setting sun, provokes the just +resentment of every man who recollects that their poor and invincible +ancestors were not distinguished from the meanest of the soldiers by the +delicacy of their food or the splendor of their apparel. But the modern +nobles measure their rank and consequence according to the loftiness of +their chariots and the weighty magnificence of their dress. Their long +robes of silk and purple float in the wind; and as they are agitated, by +art or accident, they occasionally discover the under-garments, the rich +tunics, embroidered with the figures of various animals. Followed by a +train of fifty servants, and tearing up the pavement, they move along the +streets with the same impetuous speed as if they travelled with +post-horses, and the example of the senators is boldly imitated by the +matrons and ladies, whose covered carriages are continually driving +round the immense space of the city and suburbs. Whenever these persons +of high distinction condescend to visit the public baths, they assume, +on their entrance, a tone of loud and insolent command, and appropriate +to their own use the conveniences which were designed for the Roman +people. If, in these places of mixed and general resort, they meet any +of the infamous ministers of their pleasures, they express their +affection by a tender embrace, while they proudly decline the +salutations of their fellow-citizens, who are not permitted to aspire +above the honor of kissing their hands or their knees. As soon as they +have indulged themselves in the refreshment of the bath, they resume +their rings and the other ensigns of their dignity, select from their +private wardrobe of the finest linen, such as might suffice for a dozen +persons, the garments the most agreeable to their fancy, and maintain +till their departure the same haughty demeanor which perhaps might have +been excused in the great Marcellus after the conquest of Syracuse. +Sometimes, indeed, these heroes undertake more arduous achievements. +They visit their estates in Italy, and procure themselves, by the toil +of servile hands, the amusements of the chase. If at any time, but more +especially on a hot day, they have courage to sail in their galleys from +the Lucrine lake to their elegant villas on the seacoast of Puteoli and +the Caieta, they compare their own expeditions to the marches of Caesar +and Alexander. Yet should a fly presume to settle on the silken folds of +their gilded umbrellas, should a sunbeam penetrate through some +unguarded and imperceptible chink, they deplore their intolerable +hardships, and lament in affected language that they were not born in +the land of the Cimmerians, the regions of eternal darkness. In these +journeys into the country the whole body of the household marches with +their master. In the same order as the cavalry and infantry, the heavy +and the light armed troops, the advanced guard and the rear, are +marshalled by the skill of their military leaders, so the domestic +officers, who bear a rod as an ensign of authority, distribute and +arrange the numerous train of slaves and attendants. The baggage and +wardrobe move in the front, and are immediately followed by a multitude +of cooks and inferior ministers employed in the service of the kitchens +and of the table. The main body is composed of a promiscuous crowd of +slaves, increased by the accidental concourse of idle or dependent +plebeians. The rear is closed by the favorite band of eunuchs, +distributed from age to youth, according to the order of seniority. +Their numbers and their deformity excite the horror of the indignant +spectators, who are ready to execrate the memory of Semiramis for the +cruel art which she invented of frustrating the purposes of nature, and +of blasting in the bud the hopes of future generations. In the exercise +of domestic jurisdiction the nobles of Rome express an exquisite +sensibility for any personal injury, and a contemptuous indifference for +the rest of the human species. When they have called for warm water, if +a slave has been tardy in his obedience, he is instantly chastised with +three hundred lashes; but should the same slave commit a wilful murder, +the master will mildly observe that he is a worthless fellow, but that, +if he repeats the offense, he shall not escape punishment. Hospitality +was formerly the virtue of the Romans; and every stranger who could +plead either merit or misfortune was relieved or rewarded by their +generosity. At present, if a foreigner, perhaps of no contemptible +rank, is introduced to one of the proud and wealthy senators, he is +welcomed indeed in the first audience with such warm professions and +such kind inquiries that he retires enchanted with the affability of his +illustrious friend, and full of regret that he had so long delayed his +journey to Rome, the native seat of manners as well as of empire. +Secure of a favorable reception, he repeats his visit the ensuing day, +and is mortified by the discovery that his person, his name, and his +country are already forgotten. If he still has resolution to persevere, +he is gradually numbered in the train of dependents, and obtains the +permission to pay his assiduous and unprofitable court to a haughty +patron, incapable of gratitude or friendship, who scarcely deigns to +remark his presence, his departure, or his return. Whenever the rich +prepare a solemn and popular entertainment, whenever they celebrate with +profuse and pernicious luxury their private banquets, the choice of the +guests is the subject of anxious deliberation. The modest, the sober, +and the learned are seldom preferred; and the nomenclators, who are +commonly swayed by interested motives, have the address to insert in the +list of invitations the obscure names of the most worthless of mankind. +But the frequent and familiar companions of the great are those +parasites who practice the most useful of all arts, the art of flattery; +who eagerly applaud each word and every action of their immortal patron, +gaze with rapture on his marble columns and variegated pavements, and +strenuously praise the pomp and elegance which he is taught to consider +as a part of his personal merit. At the Roman tables the birds, the +dormice, or the fish, which appear of an uncommon size, are contemplated +with curious attention; a pair of scales is accurately applied to +ascertain their real weight; and, while the more rational guests are +disgusted by the vain and tedious repetition, notaries are summoned to +attest by an authentic record the truth of such a marvellous event. +Another method of introduction into the houses and society of the great +is derived from the profession of gaming, or, as it is more politely +styled, of play. The confederates are united by a strict and +indissoluble bond of friendship, or rather of conspiracy; a superior +degree of skill in the Tesserarian art is a sure road to wealth and +reputation. A master of that sublime science who in a supper or an +assembly is placed below a magistrate displays in his countenance the +surprise and indignation which Cato might be supposed to feel when he +was refused the praetorship by the votes of a capricious people. The +acquisition of knowledge seldom engages the curiosity of the nobles, who +abhor the fatigue and disdain the advantages of study; and the only +books which they peruse are the Satires of Juvenal and the verbose and +fabulous histories of Marius Maximus. The libraries which they have +inherited from their fathers are secluded, like dreary sepulchres, from +the light of day. But the costly instruments of the theatre-flutes, and +enormous lyres, and hydraulic organs--are constructed for their use; and +the harmony of vocal and instrumental music is incessantly repeated in +the palaces of Rome. In those palaces sound is preferred to sense, and +the care of the body to that of the mind. It is allowed as a salutary +maxim that the light and frivolous suspicion of a contagious malady is +of sufficient weight to excuse the visits of the most intimate friends +and even the servants who are dispatched to make the decent inquiries +are not suffered to return home till they have undergone the ceremony of +a previous ablution. Yet this selfish and unmanly delicacy occasionally +yields to the more imperious passion of avarice. The prospect of gain +will urge a rich and gouty senator as far as Spoleto; every sentiment of +arrogance and dignity is subdued by the hopes of an inheritance, or even +of a legacy; and a wealthy childless citizen is the most powerful of the +Romans. The art of obtaining the signature of a favorable testament, +and sometimes of hastening the moment of its execution, is perfectly +understood; and it has happened that in the same house, though in +different apartments, a husband and a wife, with the laudable design of +overreaching each other, have summoned their respective lawyers to +declare at the same time their mutual but contradictory intentions. The +distress which follows and chastises extravagant luxury often reduces +the great to the use of the most humiliating expedients. When they +desire to borrow, they employ the base and supplicating style of the +slave in the comedy; but when they are called upon to pay, they assume +the royal and tragic declamation of the grandsons of Hercules. If the +demand is repeated, they readily procure some trusty sycophant, +instructed to maintain a charge of poison or magic against the insolent +creditor, who is seldom released from prison till he has signed a +discharge for the whole debt. These vices, which degrade the moral +character of the Romans, are mixed with a puerile superstition that +disgraces their understanding. They listen with confidence to the +predictions of haruspices, who pretend to read in the entrails of +victims the signs of future greatness and prosperity; and there are many +who do not presume either to bathe or to dine, or to appear in public, +till they have diligently consulted, according to the rules of +astrology, the situation of Mercury and the aspect of the moon. It is +singular enough that this vain credulity may often be discovered among +the profane sceptics who impiously doubt or deny the existence of a +celestial power.” + + + + +CHAPTER 116. “They either take in or else they are taken in.” + +“Captare” may be defined as to get the upper hand of someone; and +“captari” means to be the dupe of someone, to be the object of interested +flattery; “captator” means a succession of successful undertakings of the +sort referred to above. Martial, lib. VI, 63, addresses the following +verses to a certain Marianus, whose inheritance had excited the avarice +of one of the intriguers: + + “You know you’re being influenced, + You know the miser’s mind; + You know the miser, and you sensed + His purpose; still, you’re blind.” + +Pliny the Elder, Historia Naturalis, lib. XIV, chap. i, writes in +scathing terms against the infamous practice of paying assiduous court +to old people for the purpose of obtaining a legacy under their wills. +“Later, childlessness conferred advantages in the shape of the greatest +authority and Lower; undue influence became very insidious in its quest +of wealth, and in grasping the joyous things alone, debasing the true +rewards of life; and all the liberal arts operating for the greatest good +were turned to the opposite purpose, and commenced to profit by +sycophantic subservience alone.” + +And Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. XVIII, chap. 4, remarks: “Some there are +that grovel before rich men, old men or young, childless or unmarried, or +even wives and children, for the purpose of so influencing their wishes +and them by deft and dextrous finesse.” + +That this profession of legacy hunting is not one of the lost arts is +apparent even in our day, for the term “undue influence” is as common in +our courts as Ambrose Bierce’s definition of “husband,” or refined +cruelty, or “injunctions” restraining husbands from disposing of +property, or separate maintenance, or even “heart balm” and the +consequent breach of promise. + + + + +CHAPTER 119. The rite of the Persians: + +Castration has been practiced from remote antiquity, and is a feature of +the harem life of the Levant to the present day. Semiramis is accused of +having been the first to order the emasculation of a troupe of her boy +slaves. + +“Whether the first false likeness of men came to the Assyrians through +the ingenuity of Semiramis; for these wanton wretches with high timbered +voices could not have produced themselves, those smooth cheeks could not +reproduce themselves; she gathered their like about her: or, Parthian +luxury forbade with its knife, the shadow of down to appear, and fostered +long that boyish bloom, compelling art-retarded youth to sink to Venus’ +calling,” Claudianus, Eutrop. i, 339 seq. + +“And last of all, the multitude of eunuchs, ranging in age, from old men +to boys, pale and hideous from the twisted deformity of their features; +so that, go where one will, seeing groups of mutilated men, he will +detest the memory of Semiramis, that ancient queen who was the first to +emasculate young men of tender age; thwarting the intent of Nature, and +forcing her from her course.” Ammianus Marcellinus, book xiv, chap. vi. + +The Old Testament proves that the Hebrew authorities of the time were no +strangers to the abomination, but no mention of eunuchs in Judea itself +is to be found prior to the time of Josiah. Castration was forbidden the +Jews, Deuteronomy, xxiii, 1, but as this book was probably unknown before +the time of Josiah, we can only conjecture as to the attitude of the +patriarchs in regard to this subject; we are safe, however, in inferring +that it was hostile. “Periander, son of Cypselus, had sent three hundred +youths of the noblest young men of the Corcyraeans to Alyattes, at +Sardis; for the purpose of emasculation.” Herodotus, iii, chapter 48. + +“Hermotimus, then, was sprung from these Pedasians; and, of all men we +know, revenged himself in the severest manner for an injury he had +received; for, having been captured by an enemy and sold, he was +purchased by one Panionius, a Chian, who gained a livelihood by the most +infamous practices; for whenever he purchased boys remarkable for their +beauty, having castrated them, he used to take them to Sardis and Ephesus +and sell them for large sums; for with the barbarians, eunuchs are more +valued than others, on account of their perfect fidelity. Panionius, +therefore, had castrated many others, as he made his livelihood by this +means, and among them, this man. + +“Hermotimus, however, was not in every respect unfortunate, for he went +to Sardis, along with other presents for the king, and in process of time +was the most esteemed by Xerxes of all his eunuchs. + +“When the king was preparing to march his Persian army against Athens, +Hermotimus was at Sardis, having gone down at that time, upon some +business or other, to the Mysian territory which the Chians possess, and +is called Atarneus, he there met with Panionius. Having recognized him, +he addressed many friendly words to him, first recounting the many +advantages he had acquired by this means, and secondly, promising him how +many favors he would confer upon him in requital, if he would bring his +family and settle there; so that Panionius joyfully accepted the proposal +and brought his wife and children. But when Hermotimus got him with his +whole family into his power, he addressed him as follows: + +“‘O thou, who, of all mankind, hast gained thy living by the most +infamous acts, what harm had either I, or any of mine, done to thee, +or any of thine, that of a man thou hast made me nothing? + +“‘Thou didst imagine, surely, that thy machinations would pass unnoticed +by the Gods, who, following righteous laws, have enticed thee, who hath +committed unholy deeds, into my hands, so that thou canst not complain of +the punishment I shall inflict upon thee.’ + +“When he had thus upbraided him, his sons being brought into his +presence, Panionius was compelled to castrate his own sons, who were four +in number; and, being compelled, he did it; and after he had finished it, +his sons, being compelled, castrated him. Thus did vengeance and +Hermotimus overtake Panionius.” Herodotus, viii, ch. 105-6. + +Mention of the Galli, the emasculated priests of Cybebe should be made. +Emasculation was a necessary first condition of service in her worship. +(Catullus, Attys.) The Latin literature of the silver and bronze ages +contains many references to castration. Juvenal and Martial have +lavished bitter scorn upon this form of degradation, and Suetonius and +Statius inform us that Domitian prohibited the practice, but it is in the +“Amoures” attributed to Lucian that we find a passage so closely akin to +the one forming a basis of this note, that it is inserted in extenso: + +“Some pushed their cruelty so far as to outrage Nature with the +sacrilegious knife, and, after depriving men of their virility, found in +them the height of pleasure. These miserable and unhappy creatures, that +they may the longer serve the purposes of boys, are stunted in their +manhood, and remain a doubtful riddle of a double sex, neither preserving +that boyhood in which they were born, nor possessing that manhood which +should be theirs. The bloom of their youth withers away in a premature +old age: while yet boys, they suddenly become old, without any interval +of manhood. For impure sensuality, the mistress of every vice, devising +one shameless pleasure after another, insensibly plunges into +unmentionable debauchery, experienced in every form of brutal lust.” The +jealous Roman husband’s furious desire to prevent the consequences of his +wife’s incontinence was by no means well served by the use of such +agents; on the contrary, the women themselves profited by the +arrangement. By means of these eunuchs, they edited the morals of their +maids and hampered the sodomitical hankerings, active or otherwise, of +their husbands: Martial, xii, 54: but when the passions and suspicions of +both heads of the family were mutually aroused, the eunuchs fanned them +into flame and gained the ascendancy in the home. They even went so far +as to marry: Martial, xi, 82, and Juvenal, i, 22. + +In the third century a certain Valesius formed a sect which, following +the example set by Origen, acted literally upon the text of Matthew, v, +28, 30, and Matthew, xix, 12. Of this sect, Augustine, De Heres. chap. +37, said: “the Valesians castrate themselves and those who partake of +their hospitality, thinking that after this manner, they ought to serve +God.” That injustice was done upon the wrong member is very evident, yet +in an age so dark, so dominated by austere asceticism, this clean cut +perception of the best interests of suffering humanity, is only to be +rivalled by the French physician in the time of the black plague. He had +observed that sthenic patients, when bled, died: the superstition and +medical usage of the age prescribed bleeding, and when the fat abbots +came to be bled, he bled them freely and with satisfaction. Justinian +decreed that anyone guilty of performing the operation which deprived an +individual of virility should be subjected to a similar operation, and +this crime was later punished with death. In the sixteenth and +seventeenth centuries we encounter another and even viler reason for this +practice: that “the voice of such a person” (one castrated in boyhood) +“after arriving at adult age, combines the high range and sweetness of +the female with the power of the male voice,” had long been known, and +Italian singing masters were not slow in putting this hint to practical +use. The poor sometimes sold their children for this purpose, and the +castrati and soprani are terms well known to the musical historian. + +These artificial voices disgraced the Italian stage until literally +driven from it by public hostility, and the punishment of death was the +reward of the individual bold enough to perform such an operation. The +papal authority excommunicated those guilty of the crime and those upon +whom such an operation had been performed, but received artificial +voices, which were the result of accident, into the Sistine choir. +This pretext served the church well and, until the year 1878, when +the disgrace was wiped out by Pope Leo XIII, the Sistine choir was an +eloquent commentary upon the attitude of an institution placed, as it +were, “between love and duty.” It should be recorded that this choir, in +its recent visit to the United States, had but one artificial voice, and +its owner was the oldest member of the choir. + +Young home-born slaves were bought up by the dealers, castrated, because +of the increased price they brought when in this condition, and sold for +huge sums: Seneca, Controv. x, chap. 4; and kidnapping was frequently +resorted to, just as it is in Africa today. + +In Russia there is a sect called the “skoptzi,” whose tenets, in this +respect, are indicated by their name. This sect is first mentioned in +the person of a certain Adrian, a monk, who came to Russia about the +year 1001. In 1041, l090 to 1096, 1138 to 1147, 1326, they are noticed, +and in 1721 to 1724 they are prominent. They call themselves “white +doves” and are divided into smaller congregations which, in their +allegorical terminology, they call “ships”; the leader of each +congregation is called the “pilot” and the female leader, the “pilot’s +mate.” Their tenets provide for two degrees of emasculation: complete +and incomplete, and, in the case of the former, he who submitted to the +operation had the “royal seal” affixed to him, this being their name for +complete emasculation: in the case of the latter, the neophyte had +reached the “Second Degree of Purity.” The operation was performed with +a red-hot knife or a hot iron, and this was known as the “baptism by +fire.” + +In the case of female converts, the breasts were amputated, either with a +red-hot knife or a pair of red-hot shears (Kudrin trial, Moscow, 1871; +testimony of physicians and examination of the accused) which served the +double purpose of checking haemorrhage, as would a thermo-cautery, and +avoiding infection. Another method consisted in searing the orifice of +the vagina so that the scar tissue would contract it in such a manner as +to effectually prevent the entrance of the male. + +A peculiar attribute of this sect is the character of many of its +members: bankers, civil service officials, navy officers, army officers +and others of the finest professions. Leroy-Beaulieu, in discussing +their methods of obtaining converts says: “they prefer boys and youths, +whom they strive to convince of the necessity of ‘killing the flesh.’ +They sometimes succeed so well, that cases are known of boys of fifteen +or so resorting to self-mutilation, to save themselves from the +temptations of early manhood. These apostles of purity do not always +scruple to have recourse to violence or deceit. They ensnare their +victims by equivocal forms of speech, and having thus obtained their +consent virtually upon false pretences, they reveal to the confiding +dupes the real meaning of the engagement they have entered into only at +the last moment, when it is too late for them to escape the murderous +knife. One evening, two men, one of them young and blooming, the other +old, with sallow and unnaturally smooth face, were conversing, while +sipping their tea, in a house in Moscow. ‘Virgins will alone stand +before the throne of the Most High,’ said the elder man. ‘He who looks +on a woman with desire commits adultery in his heart, and adulterers +shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.’ ‘What then should we sinners +doe’ asked the young man. ‘Knowest thou not,’ replied the elder, ‘the +word of the Lord? If thy right eye leadeth thee into temptation, pluck +it out and cast it from thee; if thy right hand leadeth thee into +temptation, cut it off and cast it from thee. What ye must do is to kill +the flesh. Ye must become like unto the disembodied angels, and that may +be attained only, through being made white as snow.’ ‘And how can we be +made thus white?’ further inquired the young man. ‘Come and see,’ said +the old man. ‘He took his companion down many stairs, into a cellar +resplendent with lights. Some fifteen white robed men and women were +gathered there. In a corner was a stove, in which blazed a fire. After +some prayers and dances, very like those in use among the Flagellants, +the old man announced to his companion: ‘now shalt thou learn how sinners +are made white as snow.’ And the young man, before he had time to ask a +single question, was seized and gagged, his eyes were bandaged, he was +stretched out on the ground, and the apostle, with a red-hot knife, +stamped him with the ‘seal of purity.’ This happened to a peasant, +Saltykov by name, and certainly not to him alone. He fainted away under +the operation, and when he came to himself, he heard the voices of his +chaste sponsors give him the choice between secrecy and death.” + +Catherine II signed the first edict against this sect in 1772, but +agitation was more or less constant until the Imperial government began +vigorous prosecutions in 1871, and many were sentenced to hard labor in +Siberia. When prosecutions were instituted, large numbers emigrated to +Roumania and there took the name of “Lipovans.” Women, especially one of +the name of Anna Romanovna, have had a great share in the invention and +diffusion of the doctrine. Not infrequently it is the women who, with +their own hands, transform the men to angels. + +In 1871 their number was estimated to be about 3000, in 1874 they +numbered 5444, including 1465 women, and in 1847, 515 men and 240 women +were transported to Siberia. The sect still holds its own in Russia. +They are millennarians and the messiah will not come for them until their +sect numbers 144,000. + +Antiquity knew three varieties of eunuch: +Castrati: Scrotum and testicles were amputated. +Spadones: Testicles were torn out. +Thlibiae: Testicles were destroyed by crushing. + + + + +CHAPTER 127. “Such sweetness permeated her voice as she said this, so +entrancing was the sound upon the listening air that you would have +believed the Sirens’ harmonies were floating in the breeze.” + +Many scholars have drawn attention to the ethereal beauty of this +passage. Probably the finest parallel is to be found in Horace’s ode to +Calliope. After the invocation to the muse he thinks he hears her +playing: + + “Hark! Or is this but frenzy’s pleasing dream? + Through groves I seem to stray + Of consecrated bay, + Where voices mingle with the babbling stream, + And whispering breezes play.” + + Sir Theodore Martin’s version. + +Another exquisite and illuminating passage occurs in Catullus, 51, given +in Marchena’s fourth note. + + + + +CHAPTER 131. “Then she kneaded dust and spittle and, dipping her middle +finger into the mixture, she crossed my forehead with it.” + +Since the Fairy Tale Era of the human race, sputum has been employed to +give potency to charms and to curses. It was anciently used as anathema +and that use is still in force to this day. Let the incredulous critic +spit in some one’s face if he doubts my word. + +But sputum had also a place in the Greek and Roman rituals. Trimalchio +spits and throws wine under the table when he hears a cock crowing +unseasonably. This, in the first century. Any Jew in Jerusalem hearing +the name of Titus mentioned, spits: this in 1903. In the ceremony of +naming Roman children spittle had its part to play: it was customary for +the nurse to touch the lips and forehead of the child with spittle. The +Catholic priest’s ritual, which prescribes that the ears and nostrils of +the infant or neophyte, as the case may be, shall be touched with +spittle, comes, in all probability from Mark, vii, 33, 34, viii, 23, and +John, ix, 6, which, in turn are probably derived from a classical +original. It should be added that fishermen spit upon their bait before +casting in their hooks. + + + + +CHAPTER 131. Medio sustulit digito: + +There is more than a suggestion in the choice of the middle finger, in +this instance. Among the Romans, the middle finger was known as the +“infamous finger.” + + Infami digito et lustralibus ante salivis + Expiat, urentes oculos inhibere perita. + Persius, Sat. ii + +See also Dio Chrysostom, xxxiii. “Neither,” says Lampridius, Life of +Heliogabalus, “was he given to demand infamies in words when he could +indicate shamelessness with his fingers,” Chapter 10. “With tears in his +eyes, Cestos often complains to me, Mamurianus, of being touched by your +finger. You need not use your finger, merely: take Cestos all to +yourself, if nothing else is wanting in your establishment,” + Martial, i, 93 + +To touch the posteriors lewdly with the finger, that is, the middle +finger put forth and the two adjoining fingers bent down, so that the +hand might form a sort of Priapus, was an obscene sign to attract +catamites. That this position of the fingers was an indecent symbol is +attested by numerous passages in the classical writers. “He would extend +his hand, bent into an obscene posture, for them to kiss,” Suetonius, +Caligula, 56. It may be added that one of that emperor’s officers +assassinated him for insulting him in that manner. When this finger was +thus applied it signified that the person was ready to sodomise him whom +he touched. The symbol is still used by the lower orders. + +“We are informed by our younger companions that gentlemen given to +sodomitical practices are in the habit of frequenting some public place, +such as the Pillars of the County Fire Office, Regent St., and placing +their hands behind them, raising their fingers in a suggestive manner +similar to that mentioned by our epigrammatist. Should any gentleman +place himself near enough to have his person touched by the playful +fingers of the pleasure-seeker, and evince no repugnance, the latter +turns around and, after a short conversation, the bargain is struck. In +this epigram, however, Martial threatens the eye and not the anus.” The +Romans used to point out sodomites and catamites by thus holding out the +middle finger, and so it was used as well in ridicule (or chaff, as we +say) as to denote infamy in the persons who were given to these +practices. + +“If anyone calls you a catamite, Sextillus,” says Martial, ii, 28, +“return the compliment and hold out your middle finger to him.” + According to Ramiresius, this custom was still common in the Spain of his +day (1600), and it still persists in Spanish and Italian countries, as +well as in their colonies. This position of the fingers was supposed to +represent the buttocks with a priapus inserted up the fundament; it was +called “Iliga,” by the Spaniards. From this comes the ancient custom of +suspending little priapi from boys’ necks to avert the evil eye. + +Aristophanes, in the “Clouds,” says: + +SOCRATES: First they will help you to be pleasant in company, and to +know what is meant by OEnoplian rhythm and what by the Dactylic. + +STREPSIADES: Of the Dactyl (finger)? I know that quite well. + +SOCRATES: What is it then? + +STREPSIADES: Why, ‘tis this finger; formerly, when a child, I used this +one. + +(Daktulos means, of course, both Dactyl (name of a metrical foot) and +finger. Strepsiades presents his middle finger with the other fingers +and thumb bent under in an indecent gesture meant to suggest the penis +and testicles. It was for this reason that the Romans called this finger +the “unseemly finger.”) + +SOCRATES: You are as low minded as you are stupid. + +[See also Suetonius: Tiberius, chapter 68.] + + + + +CHAPTER 138. “OEnothea brought out a leathern dildo.” + +This instrument, made from glass, wax, leather, or other suitable +material such as ivory or the precious metals (Ezekiel xvi, 17), has been +known from primitive times; and the spread of the cult of Priapus was a +potent factor in making the instrument more common in the western world. +Numerous Greek authors make mention of it: Aristophanes, Lucian, +Herondas, Suidas and others. That it was only too familiar to the Romans +is shown by their many references to it: Catullus, Martial, the apostle +Paul, Tertullian, and others. + +Aristophanes, Lysistrata: (Lysistrata speaking) “And not so much as +the shadow of a lover! Since the day the Milesians betrayed us, I have +never once caught sight of an eight-inch-long dildo even, to be a +leathern consolation to us poor widows.” Her complaint is based upon the +fact that all the men were constantly absent upon military duty and the +force of the play lies in her strategic control of a commodity in great +demand among the male members of society. Quoting again from the same +play: Calonice: “And why do you summon us, Lysistrata dear? What is it +all about?” Lysistrata: “About a big affair.” Calonice: “And is it +thick, too’?” Lysistrata: “Indeed it is, great and big too.” Calonice: +“And we are not all on the spot!” Lysistrata: “Oh! If it were what you +have in mind, there would never be an absentee. No, no, it concerns a +thing I have turned about and about, this way and that, for many +sleepless nights.” When the plot has been explained, viz.: that the +women refuse intercourse to their husbands until after peace has been +declared--Calonice: “But suppose our poor devils of husbands go away and +leave us”’ Lysistrata: “Then, as Pherecrates says, ‘we must flay a +skinned dog,’ that’s all.” + +Lucian, Arnoures, says: “but, if it is becoming for men to have +intercourse with men, for the future let women have intercourse with +women. Come, O new generation, inventor of strange pleasures! as you +have devised new methods to satisfy male lust, grant the same privilege +to women; let them have intercourse with one another like men, girding +themselves with the infamous instruments of lust, an unholy imitation of +a fruitless union.” + +Herondas, Mime vi: + +KORITTO | Two women friends +METRO | +A Female Domestic. + +Time, about 300 B. C. + +Scene, Koritto’s sitting room. + +KORITTO: (Metro has just come to call) Take a seat, Metro; (to the slave +girl) Get up and get the lady a chair; I have to tell you to do +everything; you’re such a fool you never do a thing of your own accord. +You’re only a stone in the house, you’re not a bit like a slave except +when you count up your daily allowance of bread: you count the crumbs +when you do that, though, and whenever the tiniest bit happens to fall +upon the floor, the very walls get tired of listening to your grumbling +and boiling over with temper, as you do all day long--now, when we want +to use that chair you’ve found time to dust it off and rub up the polish +--you may thank the lady that I don’t give you a taste of my hand. + +METRO: You have as hard a time as I do, Koritto, dear--day and night +these low servants make me gnash my teeth and bark like a dog, just like +they do you.--But I came to see you about--(to the slave girl) get out of +here, get out of my sight, you trouble maker, you’re all ears and tongue +and nothing else, all you do is to sit around Koritto--dear, now please +don’t tell me a fib, who stitched that red dildo of yours? + +KORITTO: Metro, where did you see that? + +METRO: Why Nossis, the daughter of Erinna, had it three days ago. Oh but +it was a beauty! + +KORITTO: So Nossis had it, did she? Where did she get it, I wonder? + +METRO: I’m afraid you’ll say something if I tell you. + +KORITTO: My dear Metro, if anybody hears anything you tell me, from +Koritto’s mouth, I hope I go blind. + +METRO: It was given to her by Eubole of Bitas, and she cautioned her not +to let a soul hear of it. + +KORITTO: That woman will be my undoing, one of these days; I yielded to +her importunity and gave it to her before I had used it myself, Metro +dear, but to her it was a godsend--, now she takes it and gives it to +some one who ought not to have it. I bid a long farewell to such a +friend as she; let her look out for another friend instead of me. As for +Nossis, Adrasteia forgive me. I don’t want to talk bigger than a lady +should--I wouldn’t give her even a rotten dildo; no, not even if I had a +thousand! + +METRO: Please don’t flare up so quickly when you hear something +unpleasant. A good woman must put up with everything. It’s all my fault +for gossiping. My tongue ought to be cut out; honestly it should: but to +get back to the question I asked you a moment ago: who stitched the +dildo? Tell me if you love me! What makes you laugh when you look at +me? What does your coyness mean? Have you never set eyes on me before? +Don’t fib to me now, Koritto, I beg of you. + +KORITTO: Why do you press me so? Kerdon stitched it. + +METRO: Which Kerdon? Tell me, because there are two Kerdons, one is that +blue-eyed fellow, the neighbor of Myrtaline the daughter of Kylaithis; +but he couldn’t even stitch a plectron to a lyre--the other one, who +lives near the house of Hermodorus, after you have left the street, was +pretty good once, but he’s too old, now; the late lamented Kylaithis--may +her kinsfolk never forget her--used to patronize him. + +KORITTO: He’s neither of those you’ve mentioned, Metro; this fellow is +bald headed and short, he comes from Chios or Erythrai, I think--you +would mistake him for another Prexinos, one fig could not look more like +another, but just hear him talk, and you’ll know that he is Kerdon and +not Prexinos. He does business at home, selling his wares on the sly +because everyone is afraid of the tax gatherers. My dear! He does do +such beautiful work! You would think that what you see is the handiwork +of Athena and not that of Kerdon! Do you know that he had two of them +when he came here! And when I got a look at them my eyes nearly burst +from their sockets through desire. Men never get--I hope we are alone +--their tools so stiff; and not only that, but their smoothness was as +sweet as sleep and their little straps were as soft as wool. If you went +looking for one you would never find another ladies’ cobbler cleverer +than he! + +METRO: Why didn’t you buy the other one, too? + +KORITTO: What didn’t I do, Metro dear’? And what didn’t I do to persuade +him’? I kissed him, I patted his bald head, I poured out some sweet wine +for him to drink, I fondled him, the only thing I didn’t do was to give +him my body. + +METRO: But you should have given him that too, if he asked it. + +KORITTO: Yes, and I would have, but Bitas slave girl commenced grinding +in the court, just at the wrong moment; she has reduced our hand mill +nearly to powder by grinding day and night for fear she might have four +obols to pay for having her own sharpened. + +METRO: But how did he happen to come to your house, Koritto dear? You’ll +tell me the truth won’t you, now? + +KORITTO: Artemis the daughter of Kandas directed him to me by pointing +out the roof of the tanner’s house as a landmark. + +METRO: That Artemis is always discovering something new to help her make +capital out of her skill as a go-between. But anyhow, when you couldn’t +buy them both you should have asked who ordered the other one. + +KORITTO: I begged him to tell me but he swore he wouldn’t, that’s how +much he thought of me, Metro dear. + +METRO: You mean that I must go and find Artemis now to learn who the +Kerdon is--good-bye KORITTO. He (my husband) is hungry by now, so it’s +time I was going. + +KORITTO: (To the slave girl) Close the doors, there, chicken keeper, and +count the chickens to see if they’re all there; throw them some grain, +too, for the chicken thieves will steal them out of one’s very lap. + + + + +THE CORDAX. + +A lascivious dance of the old Greek comedy. Any person who performed +this dance except upon the stage was considered drunk or dissolute. +That the dance underwent changes for the worse is manifest from the +representation of it found on a marble tazza in the Vatican (Visconti, +Mus. Pio-Clem. iv, 29), where it is performed by ten figures, five +Finns and five Bacchanals, but their movements, though extremely lively +and energetic, are not marked by any particular indelicacy. Many ancient +authors and scholiasts have commented upon the looseness and sex appeal +of this dance. Meursius, Orchest., article Kordax, has collected the +majority of passages in the classical writers, bearing upon this subject, +but from this disorderly collection it is impossible to arrive at any +definite description of the cordax. The article in Coelius Rhodiginus. +Var. Lect. lib. iv, is conventional. The cordax was probably not +unlike the French “chalhut,” danced in the wayside inns, and it has been +preserved in the Spanish “bolero” and the Neapolitan “tarantella.” When +the Romans adopted the Greek customs, they did not neglect the dances +and it is very likely that the Roman Nuptial Dance, which portrayed the +most secret actions of marriage had its origin in the Greek cordax. The +craze for dancing became so menacing under Tiberius that the Senate was +compelled to run the dancers and dancing masters out of Rome but the evil +had become so deep rooted that the very precautions by which society was +to be safeguarded served to inflame the passion for the dance and +indulgence became so general and so public that great scandal resulted. +Domitian, who was by no means straight laced, found it necessary to expel +from the Senate those members who danced in public. The people imitated +the nobles, and, as fast as the dancers were expelled, others from the +highest and lowest ranks of society took their places, and there soon +came to be no distinction, in this matter, between the noblest names of +the patricians and the vilest rabble from the Suburra. There is no +comparison between the age of Cicero and that of Domitian. “One could do +a man no graver injury than to call him a dancer,” says Cicero, Pro +Murena, and adds: “a man cannot dance unless he is drunk or insane.” + +Probably the most realistic description of the cordax, conventional, of +course, is to be found in Merejkovski’s “Death of the Gods.” The passage +occurs in chapter vi. I have permitted myself the liberty of supplying +the omissions and euphemisms in Trench’s otherwise excellent and spirited +version of the novel. “At this moment hoarse sounds like the roarings of +some subterranean monster came from the market square. They were the +notes, now plaintive, now lively, of a hydraulic organ. At the entrance +to a showman’s travelling booth, a blind Christian slave, for four obols +a day, was pumping up the water which produced this extraordinary +harmony. Agamemnon dragged his companions into the booth, a great tent +with blue awnings sprinkled with silver stars. A lantern lighted a +black-board on which the order of the program was chalked up in Syriac +and Greek. It was stifling within, redolent of garlic and lamp oil soot. +In addition to the organ, there struck up the wailing of two harsh +flutes, and an Ethopian, rolling the whites of his eyes, thrummed upon an +Arab drum. A dancer was skipping and throwing somersaults on a +tightrope, clapping his hands to the time of the music, and singing a +popular song: + + Hue, huc, convenite nunc + Spatalocinaedi! + Pedem tendite + Cursum addite + +“This starveling snub-nosed dancer was old, repulsive, and nastily gay. +Drops of sweat mixed with paint were trickling from his shaven forehead; +his wrinkles, plastered with white lead, looked like the cracks in some +wall when rain has washed away the lime. The flutes and organ ceased +when he withdrew, and a fifteen-year-old girl ran out upon the stage. +She was to perform the celebrated cordax, so passionately adored by the +mob. The Fathers of the Church called down anathema upon it, the Roman +laws prohibited it, but all in vain. The cordax was danced everywhere, +by rich and poor, by senators’ wives and by street dancers, just as it +had been before. + +“‘What a beautiful girl,’ whispered Agamemnon enthusiastically. Thanks +to the fists of his companions, he had reached a place in the front rank +of spectators. The slender bronze body of the Nubian was draped only +about the hips with an almost airy colorless scarf. Her hair was wound +on the top of her head, in close fine curls like those of Nubian woven. +Her face was of the severest Egyptian type, recalling that of the Sphinx. + +“She began to dance languidly, carelessly, as if already weary. Above +her head she swung copper bells, castanets or ‘crotals,’--swung them +lazily, so that they tinkled very faintly. Gradually her movements +became more emphatic, and suddenly under their long lashes, yellow eyes +shone out, clear and bright as the eyes of a leopardess. She drew her +body up to her full height and the copper castanets began to tinkle with +such challenge in their piercing sound that the whole crowd trembled with +emotion. Vivid, slender, supple as a serpent, the damsel whirled +rapidly, her nostrils dilated, and a strange cry came crooning from her +throat. With each impetuous movement, two dark little breasts held tight +by a green silk net, trembled like two ripe fruits in the wind, and their +sharp, thickly painted nipples were like rubies, as they protruded from +the net. + +“The crowd was beside itself with passion. Agamemnon, nearly mad, was +held back by his companions. Suddenly the girl stopped as if exhausted. +A slight shudder ran through her, from her head down the dark limbs to +her feet. Deep silence prevailed. The head of the Nubian was thrown +back as if in a rigid swoon but above it the crotals still tinkled with +an extraordinary languor, a dying vibration, quick and soft as the wing +flutterings of a captured butterfly. Her eyes grew dim but in their +inner depths glittered two sparks; the face remained severe, impersonal, +but upon the sensuous red lips of that sphinx-like mouth a smile +trembled, faint as the dying sound of the crotals.” + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + +Double capacity of masseurs and prostitutes +Empress Theodora belonged to this class +High fortune may rather master us, than we master it +Legislation has never proved a success in repressing vice +One could do a man no graver injury than to call him a dancer +Russia there is a sect called the skoptzi +She is chaste whom no man has solicited--Ovid +Tax on bachelors +While we live, let us live + + + + + + SIX NOTES BY MARCHENA. + + + +TO THE ARMY OF THE RHINE. + +The conquests of the French have resulted, during this war, in a boon to +knowledge and to letters. Egypt has furnished us with monuments of its +aboriginal inhabitants, which the ignorance and superstition of the Copts +and Mussulmans kept concealed from civilized countries. The libraries of +the convents of the various countries have been ransacked by savants and +precious manuscripts have been brought to light. + +By no means the least interesting of the acquisitions is a fragment of +Petronius, which we offer to the public, taken from an ancient manuscript +which our soldiers, in conquering St. Gall, have sent to us for +examination. We have made an important discovery in reading a parchment +which contains the work of St. Gennadius on the Duties of Priests, and +which, judging from the form of the letters employed, we should say was +written in the eleventh century. A most careful examination led us to +perceive that the work by this saint had been written on pages containing +written letters, which had been almost effaced. We know that in the dark +ages it was customary to write ecclesiastical works on the manuscripts +containing the best authors of Latinity. + +At a cost of much labor we have been able to decipher a morsel which we +give to the public: and of the authenticity of which there can be no +doubt. We render homage to the brave French army to which we owe this +acquisition. + +It is easy to notice that there is a lacuna in that passage of Petronius +in which Encolpius is left with Quartilla, looking through a chink in the +door, at the actions of Giton and little Pannychis. A few lines below, +it relates, in effect, that he was fatigued by the voluptuous enjoyment +of Quartilla, and in that which remains to us, there is no mention of the +preliminaries to this enjoyment. The style of the Latin so closely +resembles the original of Petronius that it is impossible to believe that +the fragment was forged. + +For the benefit of those who have not read the author, it is well to +state that this Quartilla was a priestess of Priapus, at whose house they +celebrated the mysteries of that god. Pannychis is a young girl of seven +years who had been handed over to Giton to be deflowered. This Giton is +the “good friend” of Encolpius, who is supposed to relate the scene. +Encolpius, who had drunk an aphrodisiacal beverage, is occupied with +Quartilla in peeping through the door to see in what manner Giton was +acquitting himself in his role. At that moment a soldier enters the +house. + +Finally an old woman, about whom there is some question in the fragment, +is the same as the one who had unexpectedly conducted Encolpius to the +house of the public women and of whom mention is made in the beginning of +the work. + + Ipsa Venus magico religatum brachia nodo + Perdocuit, multis non sine verberibus. + Tibullus viii, 5. + + + +I. + + Vous verrez que vous avez affaire a un homme. + You will learn that you have to deal with a man. + +Fighting men have in all times been distinguished on account of the +beauty of their women. The charming fable of the loves of Venus and +Mars, described by the most ancient of poets, expresses allegorically, +this truth. All the demi-gods had their amorous adventures; the most +valiant were always the most passionate and the happiest. Hercules took +the maidenheads of fifty girls, in a single night. Thesus loved a +thousand beauties, and slept with them. Jason abandoned Hypsipyle for +Medea, and her, for Creusa. Achilles, the swift of foot, forgot the +tender Deidamia in the arms of his Briseis. + +It has been remarked that the lovers did not have very scrupulous tastes +in their methods of attaining satisfaction from the women they loved. +The most common method was abduction and the women always submitted to +this without a murmur of any sort. Helen was carried off by Theseus, +after having also been abducted by Paris. The wife of Atreus was +abducted by Thyestus, and from that arose the implacable hatred between +the two families. Rape was no less common. Goddesses themselves and the +favorites of the Gods were at the risk of falling prey to strong mortals. +Pirithous, aided by Theseus, even attempted to snatch Proserpina from the +God of the under-world. Juno herself was compelled to painful submission +to the pursuit of Ixion, and Thetis succumbed despite herself, to the +assaults of Peleus. The gift of foretelling the future, with which +Apollo endowed Cassandra, did not insure her against the brutal caresses +of Ajax, son of Oileus. + +In the infancy of society, there was never known any other distinction +except between the weak and the strong: the strong commanded and the weak +obeyed. For that reason, women were regarded in the light of beings +destined by nature, to serve the pleasures and even the caprices of men. +Never did her suitors express a tender thought for Penelope, and, instead +of making love to her, they squandered her property, slept with her +slaves, and took charge of things in her house. + +Circe gave herself to Ulysses who desired to slay her, and Calypso, full +blown goddess as she was, was obliged to make his advances for him. The +fine sentiments that Virgil puts into the mouth of the shade of Creusa, +content with having died while serving against the Greeks, “she was a +Trojan, and she wedded the son of Venus”; the confession with which +Andromache, confronted by the murderer of her first husband, responds to +the question of AEneas; these ideas, I say, and these sentiments, +appertained to the polished century of Augustus and not to the epoch or, +scene of the Trojan War. Virgil, in his AEneid, had never subscribed to +the precepts of Horace, and of common sense: + + Aut famam sequere, aut sibi convenientia finge + Horace Ars Poet. 119. + +From this manner of dealing with women arose another reason for the +possession of beauty by the valiant. One coveted a woman much as one +would covet a fine flock of sheep, and, in the absence of laws, the one +in possession of either the one or the other of these desirable objects +would soon be dispossessed of them if he was not courageous enough to +guard them against theft. Wars were as much enterprises for ravishing +women as they were for taking other property, and one should remember +that Agamemnon promised to retire from before Troy if the Trojans would +restore Helen and his riches to Menelaus; things which Paris had +despoiled him of. + +Also, there was never any of that thing we call “conjugal honor” among +the Greeks; that idea was far too refined; it was a matter too complex +ever to have entered the heads of these semi-barbarous people. This is +exemplified in the fact that, after the taking of Troy, Helen, who had, +of her own free will, belonged successively to Paris, and to Deiphobus, +afterwards returned to Menelaus, who never offered her any reproach. +That conduct of Menelaus was so natural that Telemachus, who, in his trip +to Sparta found Helen again with Menelaus, just as she was before her +abduction, did not show the least astonishment. + +The books which bear the most remarkable resemblance to each other are +the Bible and Homer, because the people they describe and the men about +whom they speak are forerunners of civilization in pretty much the same +degree. Sarah was twice snatched from the bosom of Abraham and he was +never displeased with his wife and continued to live on good terms with +her. David, a newcomer on the throne, hastened to have Michol brought to +him although she had already married another man. + +The best proof that, during the time of the Romans the women preferred +soldiers to other men is in the claims to successful enterprises by the +bragging soldier of Plautus. Pyrgopolinices thought it was only +necessary to pose as a great warrior, to have all the women chasing after +him; therefore, his parasite and his slave spoke of nothing but the +passions be inspired in women. Tradition has it that among the Samnites, +the bravest men had the choice of the fairest women, and to this custom +is attributed one of the reasons these people were so warlike. + +In the times of chivalry the greatest exploits were achieved for the +pleasure of one’s Lady-Love, and there were even such valiant knights, as +Don Quixote, who went about the world proving by force of arms that their +ladies had no peer. The poverty-stricken troubadours singing +harmoniously about their beautiful women found them flying away in the +arms of knights who had broken lances at tournaments, or had performed +the greatest feats of arms. In fine, all the peoples of the world have +said with Dryden: + + “None but the brave deserves the fair.” + + + + +II. + + Ses camarades se saisissent de moi et de Quartilla. + His comrades seized hold of Quartilla and me. + +The profession of Quartilla corresponded to that which is followed by +our ladies of the Palace Royal. This Palace Royal is a sort of Babylon, +with this difference; that the former prostitute themselves all the year +round, and that they are not quite so attractive as the Chaldean +beauties. For the rest, one of the incontestable facts of ancient +history is this prostitution of the women of Babylon in honor of Venus, +and I cannot understand why Voltaire refused to believe it, since +religions have always been responsible for the most abominable actions, +and because religious wars, the horrors of intolerance, the impostures of +priests, the despotism of kings, the degradation and stupidity of the +people, have been the direct fatal effects of religions; and seeing that +the blind fanaticism of martyrs and the brutal cruelty of tyrants is a +hundred times more deplorable than a sacrifice equally agreeable to the +victim and to the one who officiates at the sacrifice; and seeing that +the enjoyment and giving of life is no less holy than the maceration and +caging of innocent animals. + +The origin of courtesans is lost in the deepest antiquity. It appears +that it was one of the patriarchal customs to enjoy them, for Judah slept +with Thamar, widow of his two sons, and who, to seduce him, disguised +herself as a courtesan. Another courtesan, Rahab, played a great role in +the first wars of the people of the Lord: it was this same Rahab who +married Solomon, father of Boaz, fourth forefather of David, and +thirty-second forefather of Jesus Christ, our divine Savior. Yet the +eternal sagacity of man has failed to take notice of this profession and +to resent the injustice done it by the scorn of men. The elected kings +of the people, the man who adopts the word father according to the +flesh, are descendants of a courtesan. + +For the rest, it must be admitted that many who follow this noble +profession are unworthy of it and only too well justify the ignominy +which is levelled against the entire class. You see these miserable +creatures with livid complexions and haggard eyes, with voices of +Stentor, breathing out at the same time the poisons which circulate in +their veins and the liquors with which they are intoxicated; you see on +their blemished and emaciated bodies, the marks of beings more hideous +than they (twenty come to satisfy their brutal passions for every one of +them); you listen to their vile language, you hear their oaths and +revolting expressions: to go to these Megeres is often to encounter +brigands and assassins: what a spectacle! It is the deformity of vice +in the rags of indigence. + +Ah! But these are not courtesans, they are the dregs of cities. A +courtesan worthy of the name is a beautiful woman, gracious and amiable, +at whose home gather men of letters and men of the world; the first +magistrates, the greatest captains: and who keeps men of all professions +in a happy state of mind because she is pleasing to them, she inspires in +them a desire for reciprocal pleasure: such an one was Aspasia who, after +having charmed the cultured people of Athens was for a long time the good +companion of Pericles, and contributed much, perhaps, towards making his +century what it was, the age of taste in arts and letters. Such an +one also was Phryne, Lais, Glycera, and their names will always be +celebrated; such, also, was Ninon d’Enclos, one of the ornaments of +the century of Louis XIV, and Clairon, the first who realized all the +grandeur of her art; such an one art thou, C-----, French Thalia, who +commands attentions, I do not say this by way of apology but to share the +opinion of Alceste. + +A courtesan such as I have in mind may have all the public and private +virtues. One knows the severe probity of Ninon, her generosity, her +taste for the arts, her attachment to her friends. Epicharis, the soul +of the conspiracy of Piso against the execrable Nero, was a courtesan, +and the severe Tacitus, who cannot be taxed with a partiality for +gallantry, has borne witness to the constancy with which she resisted the +most seductive promises and endured the most terrible tortures, without +revealing any of the details of the conspiracy or any of the names of the +conspirators. + +These facts should be recognized above that ascetic moral idea which +consists of the sovereign virtue of abstinence in defiance of nature’s +commands and which places weakness in these matters along with the most +odious crimes. Can one see without indignation Suetonius’ reproach of +Caesar for his gallantries with Servilia, with Tertia, and other Roman +ladies, as a thing equal to his extortions and his measureless ambitions, +and praising his warlike ardor against peoples who had never furnished +room for complaint to Rome? The source of these errors was the theory of +emanations. The first dreamers, who were called philosophers imagined +that matter and light were co-eternal; they supposed that was all one +unformed and tenebrous mass; and from the former they established the +principle of evil and of all imperfection, while they regarded the latter +as sovereign perfection. Creation, or, one might better say +co-ordination, was only the emanation of light which penetrated chaos, +but the mixture of light and matter was the cause of all the inevitable +imperfections of the universe. The soul of man was part and parcel of +divinity or of increased light; it would never attain happiness until it +was re-united to the source of all light; but for it, we would be free +from all things we call gross and material, and we would be taken into +the ethereal regions by contemplation and by abstinence from the +pleasures of the flesh. When these absurdities were adopted for the +regulation of conduct, they necessarily resulted in a fierce morality, +inimical to all the pleasures of life, such, in a word, as that of the +Gymnosophists or, in a lesser measure, of the Trappists. + +But despite the gloomy nonsense of certain atrabilious dreamers, the +wonderful era of the Greeks was that of the reign of the courtesans. +It was about the houses of these that revolved the sands of Pactolus, +their fame exceeded that of the first men of Greece. The rich offerings +that decorated the temples of the Gods were the gifts of these women, +and it must be remembered that most of them were foreigners, originating, +for the most part, in Asia Minor. It happened that an Athenian +financier, who resembled the rest of his tribe as much as two drops of +water, proposed once to levy an impost upon the courtesans. As he spoke +eloquently of the incalculable advantages which would accrue to the +Government by this tax, a certain person asked him by whom the courtesans +were paid. “By the Athenians,” replied our orator, after deliberation. +“Then it would be the Athenians who would pay the impost,” replied the +questioner, and the people of Athens, who had a little more sense than +certain legislative assemblies, hooted the orator down, and there was +never any more question about a tax upon courtesans. + +Corinth was famous for the number and beauty of its courtesans, from +which comes the proverb: “It is not given to every man to go to Corinth”; +there they ran the risk of losing their money and ruining their health. +The cause of this great vogue of courtesans in Greece was not the +supposed ugliness of the sex, as the savant Paw imagined, and +contradicted by the unanimous evidence of ancient authors and of modern +travellers; but rather, the retired and solitary life which the women of +the country led. They lived in separate apartments and never had any +communication with the streets or with the residences of men “the inner +part of the house which was called the women’s apartments,” said +Cornelius Nepos (preface). Strangers never visited them; they rarely +visited their nearest relations. This was why marriage between brothers +and sisters was authorized by law and encouraged by usage; the sisters +were exposed to the attacks of their brothers because they lived +separated from them. + +With the Romans, as with us, the virtuous women corrupted somewhat the +profession of the courtesans. The absolute seclusion of women was never +the fashion at Rome and the stories we have on the authority of Valerius +Maximus on the chastity and modesty of the first Roman matrons merit the +same degree of belief as the legend of Romulus and Remus being brought up +by a wolf, the rape of Lucretia or the tragic death of Virginia. On the +contrary, in Livy, a great admirer of the customs of the early days of +Rome, we find that in those times a great number of Roman women of the +noblest families were convicted of having poisoned their husbands and +condemned to death for this hideous crime: that, by no means shows a very +exquisite and tender conjugal sentiment. During the period of the second +Punic War with what energy they went about the city seeking the repeal of +the law which took out of their hands the custody of jewels and precious +stones! A repeal which they obtained despite the opposition of Cato the +Censor. It appears that the profession of the courtesan was generally +practised by the freed-women; their manner necessarily showed the results +of their education. But the young sparks of Rome never paid much +attention to them, they preferred to have love affairs with the wives of +their friends. For one Sallust who ruined himself with freedwomen, there +were five Cupienniuses; “Cupiennius, that admirer of the pudenda garbed +in white,” Hor. Sat. I, ii, 36. Delia, Lesbia, Ipsythillia, Corinna, +Nemesis, Neeria, Cynthia, Sulpitia, Lycimnia, and almost all the women to +whom, under real or assumed names, Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, Ovid, +Horace, and others, addressed their erotic compositions, were Roman +married women. Horace is the only one who celebrated a freedwoman in +some of his odes. This is due, however, to his taste for variety and +perhaps also, to his birth, for he himself was the son of a freedwoman. +Ovid’s Art of Love and the Satires of Juvenal reveal the extent to which +gallantry was the fashion at Rome and Cato would never have praised the +conduct of that young man who had recourse to a public house if that had +been an ordinary course of procedure. + +In Europe of the middle ages, the priests and abbots helped to some +extent in reviving the profession of the courtesans. Long before, Saint +Paul had stated in his Epistles that it was permitted to the apostles +of the Lord to take with them everywhere a sister for charity. The +deaconesses date from the first century of the church. But the celibacy +of the clergy was not universally and solidly established until about the +eleventh century, under the pontificate of Gregory VII. During the +preceding century, the celebrated Marozie and Theodore had put their +lovers successively upon the chair of St. Peter, and their sons and +grandsons, as well. But after the priests had submitted to celibacy they +ostensibly took the concubines of which, alas! our housekeepers of today +are but feeble vestiges. The Spanish codes of the middle ages were often +concerned with the rights of the concubines of priests (mancebas de los +clerigos) and these chosen ones of the chosen ones of the Lord invariably +appeared worthy of envy. Finally the courtesans appeared in all their +magnificence in the Holy City, and modern Rome atoned for the rebuffs and +indignities these women had been compelled to endure in ancient Rome. +The princes of the church showered them with gifts, they threw at their +feet the price of redemption from sin, paid by the faithful, and the age +of Leo X was for Rome a wonderful epoch of fine arts, belles lettres, and +beautiful women. But a fanatical monk from Lower Germany fell upon this +calm of the church and this happy era of the harlots; since then the +revenues of the sacred college have continued to decrease, the beautiful +courtesans have abandoned the capital of the Christian world, and their +pleasures have fled with them. And can anyone longer believe in the +perfection of the human race, since the best, the most holy of human +institutions has so visibly degenerated! + + + + +III. + + Le Soldat ordonne a embasicetas de m’accabler de ses impurs baisers. + + The soldier ordered the catamite to beslaver me with his stinking + kisses. + +One of the reasons which caused the learned and paradoxical Hardouin to +assert that all the works which have been attributed to the ancients, +with the exception of the Georgics and the Natural History of Pliny, were +the compositions of monks, was doubtless the very frequent repetition of +scenes of love for boys, which one notices in most of these writings: +this savant was a Jesuit. But this taste is not peculiar to convents; it +is to be found among all peoples and in all climates; its origin is lost +in the night of the centuries; it is common in the most polished nations +and it is common among savage tribes. Profound philosophers have argued +in favor of it; poets have sung the objects of this sort of love in their +tender and passionate compositions, and these compositions have always +been the delight of posterity. What stupid or unfeeling reader can read +without emotion that beautiful eclogue of Virgil where Corydon sighs his +hopeless love for the beautiful Alexis? The most passionate ode of +Horace is that one in which he complains of the harshness of Ligurinus. +The tender Tibullus, deceived by his Marathus, brings tears to all who +have hearts. The delicate Anacreon, praising his Bathylle, and the +valiant Alceus giving himself up after his labors in war to sing of the +dark eyes and black hair of Lycus . . . “with dark eyes and black hair +beautiful.” It is not to over-civilized refinements of society which, +according to certain misanthropists, degrade nature and corrupt it, that +this taste is due; it is found among the south sea islanders, and the +evidence of the first Spaniards attests that it was common among the +hordes of American Indians before the discovery of the new world. Paw +had attempted to explain this as resulting from defects in the formation +of the organs of pleasure among the natives; but a peculiar cause is not +sufficient explanation for a universal effect. + +At the time of the Patriarchs, Greek love was so general that in the four +cities, Sodom, Gomorrah, Adama, and Seboim, it was impossible to find ten +men exempt from the contagion; that number would have sufficed, said the +Lord, to withhold the punishment which he inflicted upon those cities. + +It should be noted here that most of the assertions about the morals of +the Israelites which are to be found in the Erotica Biblon of Mirabeau +are either false or pure guesswork. It is a bizarre method of judging +the morals of a people, that of taking their legal code and inferring +that the people were accustomed to break all the laws which are forbidden +by that code. Nevertheless, that is the method which the author of the +Erotica Biblon adopts for portraying the morals of the Jewish people. +Again, he has not even understood this code; he has believed that the law +against giving one’s seed to the idol Moloch meant giving the human +semen; and he is ignorant of the fact that this seed, as spoken of in the +Bible, means the children and descendants. Thus it is that the land of +Canaan is promised to the seed of Abraham, and the perpetuity of the +reign on Sion to that of David. Moloch was a Phoenician deity, the same +one to which, in Carthage, they sacrificed children; the Romans believed +him to be a reincarnation of their Saturn, but Saturn was an Etruscan +divinity who could never have had any connection with the Gods of +Phoenicia. He (Mirabeau) has translated “those who polluted the temple” + as meaning those who were guilty of some obscenity in the temple; and he +does not know that the temple was “polluted” by a thousand acts, declared +impure by law, and which were not obscene. The entrance of a woman into +a sacred place, less than forty days after her accouchement, or the +entrance of a man who had touched an impure animal, constituted a +pollution of the House of the Lord. When one wishes to make a parade of +erudition he should make some attempt to understand the things which he +pretends to make clear to others. Or is it that this Mirabeau was merely +careless? + +The love of boys was so thoroughly the fashion in Greece that we have +today given it the name “Greek Love.” Orestes was regarded as the “good +friend” of Pylades and Patroclus as the lover of Achilles. In this +taste, the Gods set the example for mortals, and the abduction of +Ganymede for the service of the master of thunder, was not the least +cause for annoyance given the chaste but over-prudish Juno. Lastly, +Hercules was not content with the loves of Omphale and Dejanira, he also +loved the beautiful Hylas, who was brought up by the nymphs. + +The Greeks boasted, without blushing, of this love, which they considered +the only passion worthy of men, and they did blush at loving a woman, +intimacy with whom, they said, only rendered her adorers soft and +effeminate. In the Dialogue of Plato, entitled “The Banquet,” which is +concerned entirely with discussions of the various forms of love, they +dismiss love for women as unworthy of occupying the attention of sensible +men. One of the speakers, I believe it was Aristophanes, explaining the +cause of this fire which we kindle in the bosoms of our loved ones, +affirms that the first men were doubles which multiplied their force and +their power. This, they abused and, as punishment, Jupiter struck them +with lightning and separated them. By their love for each other they +came together again to regain their primitive state. But the effeminates +sought out only the women because they were only half men, half women; +while those whose tastes were masculine and courageous wanted to become +double men again. + +Phedre has put into the mouth of AEsop an explanation of that love which +would certainly not have been relished by the Greeks. He says that while +Prometheus was occupied with modelling his man and woman, he was invited +to a feast given by Jupiter, to the Gods; he came back intoxicated and, +by mistake, applied the sexual parts of one to the body of the other. + +For the rest, the Greeks were all in accord in their profound contempt +for women. The theatrical writers, especially, who studied more +particularly the general opinions and catered to them in order to obtain +the applause of the public, were distinguished by their bitterness +against the sex. Euripides maintained that Prometheus deserved to be +chained to Mount Caucasus with the vulture gnawing at his entrails, +because he had fashioned a being so pernicious and hateful as woman. The +shade of Agamemnon, in the Odyssey advised Ulysses not to put any faith +in Penelope and did not stop talking until he had enumerated the entire +list of the vices of the sex. The first Latin authors imitated the +Greeks in their invectives against women; the comedies of Plautus, +especially, teem with virulent attacks upon them. + +At Rome, however, the great freedom permitted to women, soon brought +about other opinions in regard to them; they often played an important +role in public and private affairs, and the men convinced themselves +that, like men, women were capable of the greatest crimes and of the most +heroic virtues. The noble stoicism of Arria is not the only example of +courageous virtue displayed by the Roman women at a time when crowned +monsters governed the empire. The young Paulina opened her veins with +her husband, the philosopher, Seneca; Mallonia preferred to die in +torments rather than give herself up to the odious he-goat of Capri. +Who does not admire the noble independence, the conjugal love, and the +matronly virtues of Agrippina, the wife of Germanicus? + +Moreover, men began to avow their love for women, and we have here +occasion to observe the rapid progress of gallantry among the Romans. +However, the love for boys was no less universally in vogue in Rome, and +Cicero charges, in his letters to Atticus, that the judges who had so +scandalously white-washed Clodius of the accusation of having profaned +the mysteries of the “Good Goddess,” had been publicly promised the +favors of the most illustrious women and the finest young men of the +first families. Caesar himself, in his early youth had yielded to the +embraces of Nicomedes, King of Bithynia; moreover, after his triumph over +the Gauls, on the solemn occasion when it was customary to twit the +victor with all his faults, the soldiers sang: “Caesar subdued the Gauls, +Nicomedes subdued Caesar. But Caesar who subdued the Gauls, triumphed, +and Nicomedes, who subdued Caesar did not.” Cato said of him that he was +loved by the King, in his youth and that, when he was older, he loved the +queen and, one day, in the senate, while he was dwelling on I know not +what request of the daughter of Nicomedes, and recounting the benefits +which Rome owed to that monarch, Cicero silenced him by replying: “We +know very well what he has given, and what thou hast given him!” At +last, during the time when the first triumvirate divided all the power, +a bad joker remarked to Pompey: “I salute thee, O King,” and, addressing +Caesar, “I salute thee, O Queen!” His enemies maintained that he was the +husband of all the women and the wife of all the husbands. Catullus, who +detested him, always called him “the bald catamite,” in his epigrams: he +set forth that his friendship with Mamurra was not at all honorable; he +called this Mamurra “pathicus,” a name which they bestowed upon those who +looked for favors among mature men or among men who had passed the stage +of adolescence. + +The masters of the empire never showed any hesitancy in trying and even +in overdoing the pleasures which all their subjects permitted themselves. +Alas! A crown is such a weighty burden! The road of domination is +strewn with so many briars that one would never be able to pass down it +if he did not take care that they were pressed down under the roses. The +Roman emperors adopted that plan; they longed for pleasures and they took +the pleasures which offered themselves without delay and in a spirit of +competition. Caligula was so little accustomed to waiting that, while +occupied in offering a sacrifice to the Gods, and the figure of a priest +having pleased him, he did not take time to finish the sacred ceremonies +before taking his pleasure of him. + +A remarkable thing is that among almost all peoples, the baths are the +places where the prostitution of men by their own sex is the most common. +We see in Catullus that the “cinaedi” (catamites), a noun which my chaste +pen refuses to translate into French, haunted the baths incessantly to +carry out their practices. Among the Orientals, of all modern peoples +who have retained this taste most generally, this same fact holds good. +It was at the bath that Tiberius, impotent through old age and +debauchery, was made young again by the touch little children applied to +his breasts; these children he called “‘little fishes,” they sucked his +withered breasts, his infected mouth, his livid lips, and finally his +virile parts. Hideous spectacle of a tyrant disgraced by nature and +struggling against her maledictions! But in vain did he invent new +pleasures, in vain did he take part in these scenes in which groups of +young men by threes and fours assumed all sorts of lascivious postures, +and were at the same time active and passive; the sight of these +indulgences of the “sprintriae” (for that is the name which was given +there) did not enable him to resuscitate his vigor any more than the +glamor of the throne or the servile submission of the senate served to +mitigate his remorse. + +But of all the emperors, the ones who carried their taste for young boys +to the greatest lengths were, Nero, Domitian and Hadrian. The first +publicly wedded the young eunuch Sporus, whom he had had operated upon so +that he might serve him like a young woman. He paid court to the boy as +he would to a woman and another of his favorites dressed himself up in a +veil and imitated the lamentations which women were accustomed to utter +on nuptial nights. The second consecrated the month of September to his +favorite and the third loved Antinous passionately and caused him to be +deified after death. + +The most ample proof of the universality of the taste for young boys +among the Romans is found in the Epithalamium of Manilius and Julia, by +Catullus, and it might be cause for surprise that this has escaped all +the philologists, were it not a constant thing that men frequently +reading about these centuries fail to perceive the most palpable facts +in their authors, just as they pass over the most striking phenomena of +nature without observing them. It appears, from this epithalamium, that +young men, before their marriage, had a favorite selected from among +their slaves and that this favorite was charged with the distribution of +nuts among his comrades, on the day, they in turn, treated him with +contempt and hooted him. Here follows an exact translation of this +curious bit. The favorite could not refuse the nuts to the slaves when +by giving them it appeared that he owned that his master had put away his +love for hire. + + “Lest longer mute tongue stays that + In festal jest, from Fescennine, + Nor yet deny their nuts to boys, + He-Concubine! who learns in fine + His lordling’s love is fled. + + Throw nuts to boys thou idle all + He-Concubine! wast fain full long + With nuts to play: now pleased as thrall + Be thou to swell Talasios’ throng + He-Concubine throw nuts. + + Wont thou as peasant-girls to jape + He-whore! Thy Lord’s delight the while: + Now shall hair-curling chattel scrape + Thy cheeks: poor wretch, ah’ poor and vile:-- + He-Concubine, throw nuts.” + +and further on, addressing the husband: + + “‘Tis said from smooth-faced ingle train + (Anointed bridegroom!) hardly fain + Hast e’er refrained; now do refrain! + O Hymen Hymenaeus io, + O Hymen Hymenaeus! + + We know that naught save licit rites + Be known to thee, but wedded wights + No more deem lawful such delights. + O Hymen Hymenaeus io, + O Hymen Hymenaeus.” + (LXI. Burton, tr.) + +The Christian religion strongly prohibits this love; the theologians put +it among the sins which directly offend against the Holy Ghost. I have +not the honor of knowing just why this thing arouses his anger so much +more than anything else; doubtless there are reasons. But the wrath of +this honest person has not prevented the Christians from having their +“pathici,” just as they have in countries where they are authorized by +the reigning deities. We have even noticed that they are the priests of +the Lord and especially the monks who practice this profession most +generally amongst us. The children of Loyola have acquired well-merited +renown in this matter: when they painted “Pleasure” they never failed to +represent him wearing trousers. Those disciples of Joseph Calasanz who +took their places in the education of children, followed their footsteps +with zeal and fervor. Lastly, the cardinals, who have a close +acquaintance with the Holy Ghost, are so prejudiced in favor of Greek +love that they have made it the fashion in the Holy City of Rome; this +leads me to wonder whether the Holy Ghost has changed His mind in regard +to this matter and is no longer shocked by it; or whether the theologians +were not mistaken in assuming an aversion against sodomy which He never +had. The cardinals who are on such familiar terms with him would know +better than to give all their days over to this pleasure if He really +objected to it. + +I shall terminate this over-long note with an extract from a violent +diatribe against this love which Lucian puts into the mouth of Charicles. +He is addressing Callicratidas, a passionate lover of young boys, with +whom he had gone to visit the temple of Venus at Cnidus. + +“O Venus, my queen! to thee I call; lend me your aid while I plead your +cause. For everything over which you deign to shed, be it ever so +little, the persuasion of your charms, reaches absolute perfection, above +all, erotic discourses need your presence, for you are their lawful +mother. In your womanhood, defend the cause of woman, and grant to men +to remain men as they have been born. At the beginning of my discourse, +I call as witness to the truth of my arguments the first mother of all +created things, the source of all generation, the holy Nature of this +universe, who, gathering into one and uniting the elements of the +world--earth, air, fire and water--and mingling them together, gave life +to everything that breathes. Knowing that we are a compound of +perishable matter, and that the span of life assigned to each of us was +short, she contrived that the death of one should be the birth of +another, and meted out to the dying, by way of compensation, the coming +into being of others, that by mutual succession we might live forever. +But, as it was impossible for anything to be born from a single thing +alone, she created two different sexes, and bestowed upon the male the +power of emitting semen, making the female the receptacle of generation. +Having inspired both with mutual desires, she joined them together, +ordaining, as a sacred law of necessity, that each sex should remain +faithful to its own nature--that the female should not play the male +unnaturally, nor the male degrade himself by usurping the functions of +the female. Thus intercourse of men with women has preserved the human +race by never-ending succession: no man can boast of having been created +by man alone; two venerable names are held in equal honor, and men +revere their mother equally with their father. At first, when men were +filled with heroic thoughts, they reverenced those virtues which bring +us nearer to the Gods, obeyed the laws of Nature, and, united to women +of suitable age, became the sires of noble offspring. But, by degrees, +human life, degenerating from that nobility of sentiment, sank to the +lowest depths of pleasure, and began to carve out strange and corrupt +ways in the search after enjoyment. Then sensuality, daring all, +violated the laws of Nature herself. Who was it who first looked upon +the male as female, violating him by force or villainous persuasion? +One sex entered one bed, and men had the shamelessness to look at one +another without a blush for what they did or for what they submitted to, +and, sowing seed, as it were, upon barren rocks, they enjoyed a +short-lived pleasure at the cost of undying shame. + +“Some pushed their cruelty so far as to outrage Nature with the +sacrilegious knife, and, after depriving men of their virility, found in +them the height of pleasure. These miserable and unhappy creatures, that +they may the longer serve the purposes of boys, are stunted in their +manhood, and remain a doubtful riddle of a double sex, neither preserving +that boyhood in which they were born, nor possessing that manhood which +should be theirs. The bloom of their youth withers away in a premature +old age: while yet boys they suddenly become old, without any interval of +manhood. For impure sensuality, the mistress of every vice, devising one +shameless pleasure after another, insensibly plunges into unmentionable +debauchery, experienced in every form of brutal lust. Whereas, if each +would abide by the laws prescribed by Providence, we should be satisfied +with intercourse with women, and our lives would be undefiled by shameful +practices. Consider the animals, which cannot corrupt by innate +viciousness, how they observe the law of Nature in all its purity. +He-lions do not lust after he-lions, but, in due season, passion excites +them towards the females of their species: the bull that rules the herd +mounts cows, and the ram fills the whole flock of ewes with the seed of +generation. Again, boars mate with sows, he-wolves with shewolves, +neither the birds that fly through the air, nor the fish that inhabit the +deep, or any living creatures upon earth desire male intercourse, but +amongst them the laws of Nature remain unbroken. But you men, who boast +idly of your wisdom, but are in reality worthless brutes, what strange +disease provokes you to outrage one another unnaturally? What blind +folly fills your minds, that you commit the two-fold error of avoiding +what you should pursue, and pursuing what you should avoid? If each and +all were to pursue such evil courses, the race of human beings would +become extinct on earth. And here comes in that wonderful Socratic +argument, whereby the minds of boys, as yet unable to reason clearly, are +deceived, for a ripe intellect could not be misled. These followers of +Socrates pretend to love the soul alone, and, being ashamed to profess +love for the person, call themselves lovers of virtue, whereat I have +often been moved to laughter. How comes it, O grave philosophers, that +you hold in such slight regard a man who, during a long life, has given +proofs of merit, and of that virtue which old age and white hairs become? +How is it that the affections of the philosophers are all in a flutter +after the young; who cannot yet make up their minds which path of life to +take? Is there a law, then, that all ugliness is to be condemned as +vice, and that everything that is beautiful is to be extolled without +further examination? But, according to Homer, the great interpreter of +truth--‘One man is meaner than another in looks, but God crowns his words +with beauty, and his hearers gaze upon him with delight, while he speaks +unfalteringly with winning modesty, and is conspicuous amongst the +assembled folk, who look upon him as a God when he walks through the +city.’ And again he says: ‘Your beauteous form is destitute of +intelligence; the wise Ulysses is praised more highly than the handsome +Nireus.’ How then comes it that the love of wisdom, justice, and the +other virtues, which are the heritage of the full-grown man, possess no +attraction for you, while the beauty of boys excites the most vehement +passion! What! should one love Phoedrus, remembering Lysias, whom he +betrayed? Could one love the beauty of Alcibiades, who mutilated the +statues of the Gods, and, in the midst of a debauch, betrayed the +mysteries of the rites of Eleusis? Who would venture to declare himself +his admirer, after Athens was abandoned, and Decelea fortified by the +enemy--the admirer of one whose sole aim in life was tyranny? But, as +the divine Plato says, as long as his chin was beardless, he was beloved +by all; but, when he passed from boyhood to manhood, when his imperfect +intelligence had reached its maturity, he was hated by all. Why, then, +giving modest names to immodest sentiments, do men call personal beauty +virtue, being in reality lovers of youth rather than lovers of wisdom? +However, it is not my intention to speak evil of distinguished men. But, +to descend from graver topics to the mere question of enjoyment, I will +prove that connection with women is far more enjoyable than connection +with boys. In the first place, the longer enjoyment lasts, the more +delight it affords; too rapid pleasure passes quickly away, and it is +over before it is thoroughly appreciated; but, if it lasts, it is thereby +enhanced. Would to heaven that grudging Destiny had allotted us a longer +lease of life, and that we could enjoy perpetual health without any +sorrow to spoil our pleasure; then would our life be one continual feast. +But, since jealous Fortune has grudged us greater blessings, those +enjoyments that last the longest are the sweetest. Again, a woman, from +puberty to middle age, until the last wrinkles furrow her face, is worth +embracing and fit for intercourse; and, even though the prime of her +beauty be past, her experience can speak more eloquently than the love of +boys. + +“I should consider anyone who attempted to have intercourse with a youth +of twenty years to be the slave of unnatural lust. The limbs of such, +like those of a man, are hard and coarse; their chins, formerly so +smooth, are rough and bristly, and their well-grown thighs are disfigured +with hairs. As for their other parts, I leave those of you who have +experience to decide. On the other hand, a woman’s charms are always +enhanced by an attractive complexion, flowing locks, dark as hyacinths, +stream down her back and adorn her shoulders, or fall over her ears and +temples, more luxuriant than the parsley in the fields. The rest of her +person, without a hair upon it, shines more brilliantly than amber or +Sidonian crystal. Why should we not pursue those pleasures which are +mutual, which cause equal enjoyment to those who receive and to those who +afford them? For we are not, like animals, fond of solitary lives, but, +united in social relations, we consider these pleasures sweeter, and +those pains easier to bear, which we share with others. Hence, a common +table was instituted, the mediator of friendship. When we minister to +the wants of the belly, we do not drink Thasian wine, or consume costly +food by ourselves alone, but in company: for our pleasures and enjoyments +are increased when shared with others. In like manner, the intercourse +of men with women causes enjoyment to each in turn, and both are alike +delighted; unless we accept the judgment of Tiresias, who declared that +the woman’s pleasure was twice as great as the man’s. I think that those +who are not selfish should not consider how they may best secure the +whole enjoyment for themselves, but should share what they have with +others. Now, in the case of boys, no one would be mad enough to assert +that this is the case; for, while he who enjoys their person reaches the +height of pleasure--at least, according to his way of thinking--the +object of his passion at first feels pain, even to tears, but when, by +repetition, the pain becomes less keen, while he no longer hurts him, he +will feel no pleasure himself. To mention something still more curious +--as is fitting within the precincts of Venus--you may make the same use +of a woman as of a boy, and thereby open a double avenue to enjoyment; +but the male can never afford the same enjoyment as the female. + +“Therefore, if you are convinced by my arguments, let us, men and women, +keep ourselves apart, as if a wall divided us; but, if it is becoming for +men to have intercourse with men, for the future let women have +intercourse with women. Come, O new generation, inventor of strange +pleasures! As you have devised new methods to satisfy male lust, grant +the same privilege to women; let them have intercourse with one another +like men, girding themselves with the infamous instruments of lust, an +unholy imitation of a fruitless union; in a word, let our wanton Tribads +reign unchecked, and let our women’s chambers be disgraced by +hermaphrodites. Far better that a woman, in the madness of her lust, +should usurp the nature of a man, than that man’s noble nature should be +so degraded as to play the woman!” + + + + +IV. + + Embasicetas fut bientot au comble de ses voeux. + The Catamite soon reached the height of his passion. + +The theologians class this species of lascivious feeling with pollution +which is complete when it produces a result. The Holy Scripture tells us +of Onan, son of Judas, grandson of Jacob, and husband of Thamar, who was +slain by the Lord because he spilled his semen, “he poured his semen upon +the ground.” We may be reproached, perhaps, for citing the Holy Bible +too frequently, but that book contains the knowledge of salvation, and +those who wish to be saved should not fail to study it with assiduity. +That this study has occupied a good part of our life, we admit, and we +have always found that study profitable. To vigorous minds that +admission may seem ridiculous, but we are writing only for pious souls, +and they will willingly applaud this courageous profession of our piety. + +The theologians have also classified onanism and pollution among the sins +against the Holy Ghost, and this being the case, there is no being in the +world who has been sinned against so often. A medium indulgence in this +sin furnished the pleasure of a queen, the severity of one Lucretia does +not repel a thousand Tarquins. Men with vivid imaginations create for +themselves a paradise peopled with the most beautiful houris, more +seductive than those of Mahomet; Lycoris had a beautiful body but it was +unfeeling; the imagination of her lover pictured her as falling before +his caresses, he led her by the hand over pressed flowers, through a +thick grove and along limpid streams; in that sweet reverie his life +slipped by. + + Here icy cold fountains, here flower covered meadows, Lycoris; + Here shady groves; life itself here would I dream out with thee. + + Virgil Bucol. Ecl. X, 41. + +In the minds of the theologians pollution is synonymous with all +pleasures with persons of the opposite or the same sex, which result in a +waste of the elixir of life. In this sense, love between woman and woman +is pollution and Sappho is a sinner against the Holy Ghost. + +(Notwithstanding), however (these caprices of the third person of the +trinity) I cannot see why pleasure should be regulated, or why a woman +who has surveyed all the charms of a young girl of eighteen years should +give herself up to the rude embraces of a man. What comparisons can be +made between those red lips, that mouth which breathes pleasure for the +first time, those snowy and purplous cheeks whose velvet smoothness is +like the Venus flower, half in bloom, that new-born flesh which +palpitates softly with desire and voluptuousness, that hand which you +press so delicately, those round thighs, those plastic buttocks, that +voice sweet and touching,--what comparison can be made between all this +and pronounced features, rough beard, hard breast, hairy body, and the +strong disagreeable voice of man? Juvenal has wonderfully expended all +his bile in depicting, as hideous scenes, these mysteries of the Bona +Dea, where the young and beautiful Roman women, far from the eyes of men, +give themselves up to mutual caresses. Juvenal has painted the eyes of +the Graces with colors which are proper to the Furies; his tableau, +moreover, revolts one instead of doing good. + +The only work of Sappho’s which remains to us is an ode written to one of +her loved ones and from it we may judge whether the poetess merited her +reputation. It has been translated into all languages; Catullus put it +into Latin and Boileau into French. Here follows an imitation of that of +Catullus: + + Peer of a God meseemeth he, + Nay passing Gods (and that can be!) + Who all the while sits facing thee + Sees thee and hears + Thy low sweet laughs which (ah me!) daze + Mine every sense, and as I gaze + Upon thee (Lesbia!) o’er me strays + + My tongue is dulled, limbs adown + Flows subtle flame; with sound its own + Rings either ear, and o’er are strown + Mine eyes with night. + + (LI. Burton, tr.) + +After that we should never again exhort the ministers and moralists to +inveigh against love of women for women; never was the interest of men +found to be so fully in accord with the precepts of divine law. + +Here I should like to speak of the brides of the Lord; but I remember +“The Nun” of Diderot, and my pen falls from my hand. Oh, who would dare +to touch a subject handled by Diderot? + + + + +V. + + Giton venait de la deflorer, et de remporter une victoire sanglante. + Giton the victor had won a not bloodless victory. + +All people have regarded virginity as something sacred, and God has so +honored it that he willed that his son be born of a virgin, fecundated, +however, by the Holy Ghost. Still, it appears problematical whether the +Virgin Mary, complete virgin that she was, did not have the same pleasure +as those who are not virgins, when she received the divine annunciation. +Father Sanchez has discussed the question very fully “whether the Virgin +Mary ‘spent’ in copulation with the Holy-Ghost,” unhappily, he decided in +the negative, and I have too much veneration for Father Sanchez not to +submit to his decision; but because of it, I am vexed with the Virgin +Mary and the Holy Ghost. + +Notwithstanding this, the daughters of the people of the Lord were not +content to remain virgins; a state of being which, at bottom has not much +to recommend it. The daughter of Jephtha before being immolated for the +sake of the Lord, demanded of her father a reprieve of two months in +which to weep for her virginity upon the mountains of Gelboe; it seems it +should not have taken so long had she had nothing to regret. Ruth had +recourse to the quickest method when she wished to cease being a virgin; +she simply went and lay down upon the bed with Boaz. The spirit of God +has deemed it worth while to transmit this story to us, for the +instruction of virgins from century to century. + +The pagan Gods thought highly of maidenheads, they often took them and +always, they set aside the virgins for themselves. The Phtyian, from +whose organ Apollo was foreordained to come, proved to be only a virgin; +the spirit of God did not communicate itself to anyone who had ever been +sullied by contact with a mortal. It was to virgins that the sacred +fires of Vesta were entrusted, and the violation of their virginity was a +capital crime which all Rome regarded as a scourge from wrathful heaven. + +The Sybils lived and died virgins; in addressing the Cumaean Sybil, +AEneas never failed to bestow that title upon her. + +Most of the immortals have preserved their virginity, Diana, Minerva, et +cet. But what is the most astonishing is that the companions of Venus +and Amor, the most lovable of all divinities, the Graces, were also +virgins. Juno became a virgin again every year, by bathing in the waters +of a magic fountain; that must have rendered Jupiter’s duties rather +onerous. + +There are some reasons for this passion of mankind for maidenheads. It +is so wonderful to give the first lessons of voluptuousness to a pure and +innocent heart, to feel under one’s hand the first palpitations of the +virginal breasts which arouses unknown delights, to dry the first tears +of tenderness, to inspire that first mixture of fear and hope, of vague +desires and expectant inquietude; whoever has never had that satisfaction +has missed the most pleasurable of all the delights of love. But taken +in that sense, virginity is rather a moral inclination, as Buffon says, +than a physical matter, and nothing can justify the barbarous precautions +against amorous theft which were taken by unnatural fathers and jealous +husbands. + +In those unhappy countries which are bent under oppression, in those +countries where heaven shows its heat in the beauty of the sex, and +where beauty is only an object of speculation for avid parents; in such +countries, I say, they resort to the most odious methods for preserving +the virginity of the young and beautiful daughters who are destined to be +sold like common cattle. They put a lock over the organ of pleasure and +never permit it to be opened except when it is strictly necessary for +carrying out those animal functions for which nature destined them. + +The locks of chastity were long known in Europe; the Italians are accused +with this terrible invention. Nevertheless, it is certain that they were +used upon men, at least, in the time of the first Roman emperors. +Juvenal, in his satire against women, VI, says: “If the singers please +them there is no need for locks of chastity for those who have sold their +voices to the praetors, who keep them.” + + Si gaudet cantu, nullius fibula durat + Vocem vendentis praetoribus. + Sat. VI, 379. + + If pleased by the song of the singer employed by the praetor + No fibula long will hold out, free, the actor will greet her. + +Christianity, most spiritual, most mystical of ancient religions, +attempts to make out a great case for celibacy. Its founder never +married, although the Pharisees reproached him for frequenting gay women, +and had, perhaps, some reason for so doing. Jesus showed a particular +affection for Mary Magdalen, to the point of exciting the jealousy of +Martha, who complained that her sister passed her time in conversation +with Jesus and left her with all the housework to do. “Mary has chosen +the better part,” said the Savior. A good Christian must not doubt that +the colloquies were always spiritual. + +St. Paul counseled virginity and most of the apostolic fathers practiced +it. Among others, St. Jerome lived his whole life among women and never +lost his purity. He answered his enemies who reproached him with his +very great intimacy with the Saintly Sisters, that the irrefutable proof +of his chastity was that he stank. That stinking of St. Jerome, which is +not a veritable article of faith in the Church, is, however, an object of +pious belief; and my readers will very gladly assent to it. + +When the Christian clergy wishes to form a body of doctrines to be +submitted to by all the common people it thinks that by separating its +interests and those of the common people as far as possible it must +tighten those ropes by which it binds its fellow citizens. Also the Pope +who was the most jealous of ecclesiastical power and the one who abused +it most, Hildebrand, rigorously prohibited the marriage of priests and +enunciated the most terrible warnings against those who did not retain +their celibacy. However, although neither priests nor monks were +permitted to marry, the epithet “virgins” cannot be justly applied to all +priests and all monks without exception. Nor shall I repeat here the +naughty pleasantries of Erasmus, of Boccaccio, and all the others, +against the monks; without doubt maliciousness has developed more +“satyrical” traits that they have brought out; beyond that, I have +nothing to say. + + + + +VI. + + Alors une vielle. . . . + Finally an old woman . . . + +The question here has to do with a procurers or go-between. That +profession has gradually fallen into discredit by I know not what +fatality, which befalls the most worthy things. Cervantes the only +philosophic author Spain has produced, wanted that calling to be +venerated in cities above all others. And truly, when one thinks how +much finesse is necessary to pursue that profession with success, when +one considers that those who practice that truly liberal art are the +repositories of the most important as well as the most sacred secrets, +one would never fail to have the greatest respect for them. The +tranquillity of homes, the civil state of persons they hold at their +discretion, and still, though they drink in insults, though they endure +abuse, very rarely do these beings, true stoics, compromise those who +have confided in them. + +In their Mercury, the ancients realized their beau ideal or archetype +of go-between which they called; in vulgar language “pimp”. That God, +as go-between for Jupiter, was often involved in the most hazardous +enterprises, such as abducting Io, who was guarded by Argus of the +hundred eyes; Mercury I say, was the God of concord, or eloquence, +and of mystery. Except to inspire them with friendly feeling and kind +affections, Mercury never went among mortals. Touched by his wand, +venomous serpents closely embraced him. Listening to him, Achilles +forgot his pride, extended hospitality to Priam and permitted him to take +away the body of Hector. The ferocious Carthaginians were softened +through the influence of this God of peace, and received the Trojans in +friendship. Mercury it was who gathered men into society and substituted +social customs for barbarism. He invented the lyre and was the master of +Amphion, who opened the walls of Thebes by the charm of his singing. +Mercury or Hermes gave the first man knowledge; but it was enveloped in a +mysterious veil which it was never permitted the profane to penetrate, +which signifies that all that he learned from God, concerning amorous +adventures, should be wrapped in profound silence. How beautiful all +these allegories are! And how true! How insipid life would be without +these mysterious liaisons, by which Nature carries out her designs, +eluding the social ties, without breaking them! Disciples of Mercury, I +salute you, whatever be your sex; to your discretion, to your persuasive +arts are confided our dearest interests, the peace of mind of husbands, +the happiness of lovers, the reputation of women, the legitimacy of +children. Without you, this desolated earth would prove to be, in +reality, a vale of tears; the young and beautiful wife united to decrepit +husband, would languish and grow weak, like the lonely flower which the +sun’s rays never touch. Thus did Mexence bind in thine indissoluble +bands the living and the dead. + +Fate, however, has often avenged the go-betweens on account of the +misunderstandings from which they suffer at the hands of the vulgar. +Otho opened the way to the empire of the world by his services as a +go-between for Nero. And the go-betweens of princes, and even of +princesses, are always found in the finest situations. Even Otho did not +lose all his rights; Nero exiled him with a commission of honor, “because +he was caught in adultery with his own wife, Poppaea.” “Uxoris moechus +coeperate esse suae” (Suet. Otho, chap. 111), said malicious gossip at +Rome. + +One evening some friends were gathered at the home of one of our most celebrated writers. Having dined sumptuously, they were discussing murder—apropos of what, I no longer remember probably apropos of nothing. Only men were present: moralists, poets, philosophers and doctors—thus everyone could speak freely, according to his whim, his hobby or his idiosyncrasies, without fear of suddenly seeing that expression of horror and fear which the least startling idea traces upon the horrified face of a notary. I—say notary, much as I might have said lawyer or porter, not disdainfully, of course, but in order to define the average French mind. With a calmness of spirit as perfect as though he were expressing an opinion upon the merits of the cigar he was smoking, a member of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences said: “Really—I honestly believe that murder is the greatest human preoccupation, and that all our acts stem from it... “ We awaited the pronouncement of an involved theory, but he remained silent. “Absolutely!” said a Darwinian scientist, “and, my friend, you are voicing one of those eternal truths such as the legendary Monsieur de La Palisse discovered every day: since murder is the very bedrock of our social institutions, and consequently the most imperious necessity of civilized life. If it no longer existed, there would be no governments of any kind, by virtue of the admirable fact that crime in general and murder in particular are not only their excuse, but their only reason for being. We should then live in complete anarchy, which is inconceivable. So, instead of seeking to eliminate murder, it is imperative that it be cultivated with intelligence and perseverance. I know no better culture medium than law.” Someone protested. “Here, here!” asked the savant, “aren't we alone, and speaking frankly?” “Please!” said the host, “let us profit thoroughly by the only occasion when we are free to express our personal ideas, for both I, in my books, and you in your turn, may present only lies to the public.” The scientist settled himself once more among the cushions of his armchair, stretched his legs, which were numb from being crossed too long and, his head thrown back, his arms hanging and his stomach soothed by good digestion, puffed smoke−rings at the ceiling: “Besides,” he continued, “murder is largely self−propagating. Actually, it is not the result of this or that passion, nor is it a pathological form of degeneracy. It is a vital instinct which is in us all—which is in all organized beings and dominates them, just as the genetic instinct. And most of the time it is especially true that these two instincts fuse so well, and are so totally interchangeable, that in some way or other they form a single and identical instinct, so that we no longer may tell which of the two urges us to give life, and which to take it—which is murder, and which love. I have been the confidant of an honorable assassin who killed women, not to rob them, but to ravish them. His trick was to manage things so that his sexual climax coincided exactly with the death−spasm of the woman: 'At those moments,' he told me, 'I imagined I was a God, creating a world!” + + +“Ah,” cried the celebrated writer, “if you are going to seek your examples among professional assassins—” “Hold on,” the scientist replied; “simply that we are all more or less assassins. I like to believe that, intellectually, we have all experienced analogous sensations to a lesser degree. We restrain the innate need of murder and attenuate physical violence by giving it a legalized outlet: industry, colonial trade, war, the hunt or anti−Semitism, because it is dangerous to abandon oneself to it immoderately and outside the law, and since after all the moral satisfaction we derive from it is not worth exposing ourselves to the ordinary consequences of the act—imprisonment( testimony before judges (always tiring and scientifically uninteresting), and, finally, the guillotine—” “You're exaggerating,” interrupted the first speaker. “Murder is a dangerous business only for inelegant murderers—witless and impulsive brutes who lack all psychological understanding. An intelligent and rational man may, with ineffable serenity, commit all the murders he desires. He is assured of immunity. The superiority of his calculations will always prevail against the routine of police investigation and, let us admit it, against the puerility of the criminal investigations with which presiding magistrates enjoy dabbling. In this business, as in all others, it is the small who pay for the great. Come, my friend, surely you admit that the number of crimes which go unprosecuted—” “And tolerated—” “And tolerated—I was about to say that—You will admit that that sum is a thousand times greater than the number of discovered and punished crimes ,about which the papers chatter with such strange prolixity, and with so repugnant a lack of understanding. If you will admit that, then concede that the gendarme is no hobgoblin to the intellectuals of murder—” “Undoubtedly—but that's not the question. You are clouding the issue. I said that murder is a normal and not at all exceptional function of nature and all living beings. So it is exorbitant of society, under pretext of governing men, to have abrogated the exclusive right to kill them, to the detriment of the individuals in whom alone this right resides.” “Quite true!” said an amiable and verbose philosopher whose lectures at the Sorbonne draw a select attendance every week. “Our friend is quite right. As far as I am concerned, I do not believe that a human being exists who is not, basically at least, an assassin. Look! when I am in a drawing room, a church, a station; on the terrasse of a cafe, at the theatre or wherever crowds pass or loiter, I enjoy considering faces from a strictly homicidal point of view. For you may see by the glance, by the back of the neck, the shape of the skull, the jaw bone and zygoma of the cheeks, or by some part of their persons that they bear the stigmata of that psychological calamity known as murder. It is scarcely an aberration of my mind, but I can go nowhere without seeing it flickering beneath eyelids, or without feeling its mysterious contact in the touch of every hand held out to me. Last Sunday I went to a town on the festival day of its patron saint. In the public square, which was decorated with foliage, floral arches, and poles draped with flags, was grouped every kind of amusement common to that sort of public celebration—And beneath the paternal eye of the authorities, a swarm of good people were enjoying themselves. The wooden horses, the roller−coaster and the swings drew a very meager crowd. The organs wheezed their gayest tunes and most bewitching overtures in vain. Other pleasures absorbed this festive throng. Some shot with rifles, pistols, or the good old cross−bow at targets painted like human faces; others hurled balls, knocking over marionettes ranged pathetically on wooden bars. Still others, mallet in hand, pounded upon a spring which animated a French sailor who patriotically transfixed with his bayonet a poor Hova or a mocking Dahomean. Everywhere, under tents or in the little lighted booths, I saw counterfeits of death, parodies of massacre, portrayals of hecatombs. And how happy these good people were!” Everyone realized the philosopher was launched upon his subject, so we settled ourselves as best we could, to withstand the torrent of his theories and anecdotes. He continued: “I notice that these gentle pastimes have for some years been undergoing a considerable development. The joy of killing has become greater and, besides, has become popularized in proportion to the spread of social refinement—for make no mistake, customs do change! Formerly, when we were still uncultivated, the Sabbath shooting−galleries were a monotonously sorry sight to see. They only shot at pipes, and eggshells dancing upon jets of water. In the more sumptuous establishments, they actually had birds, but they were made of plaster. I ask you what fun was there in that? Today, progress has made it legal for every good man to procure himself the delicate and edifying emotion of assassination, for a couple of sous. Into the bargain, you may still win colored plates and rabbits; but, instead of pipes, eggshells, and plaster birds, which smash stupidly without suggesting anything bloody to us, the showman's imagination has substituted figures of men, women and children, carefully jointed and costumed as they should be. Then they have made these figures gesticulate and walk. By means of an ingenious mechanism, they walk happily along, or flee terrified. + + +You see them appear alone or in groups, in decorative settings, scaling walls, entering dungeons, tumbling out of windows, popping up out of trapdoors... They function just like real beings and move their arms, legs and heads. Some appear to be weeping, some seem to be paupers, some invalids, and there are some dressed in gold like legendary princesses. Really, you can believe that they possess intelligence, a will, a soul—that they are alive! Some even assume pathetic attitudes. You can almost hear them cry: 'Mercy! Don't kill me!' It is an exquisite sensation to imagine you are going to kill things that move, suffer, and implore! Something like a taste of warm blood comes to your mouth when you aim the rifle or the pistol at them. What a thrill when the shot decapitates these make−believe men! What a clamor when the arrow splits their cardboard breasts and lays the little inanimate bodies low, in corpse−like postures! Everybody gets excited, intent, and eggs the others on. You hear nothing but expressions of destruction and death: 'Kill him!' 'Aim at his eye, aim at his heart!' 'He got his!' No matter how indifferent these good people are to the targets and the pipes, they become elated when the mark represents a human being. The clumsy ones grow angry, not with their own awkwardness, but with the marionette they have missed. They call it a coward and overwhelm it with vile insults when it disappears intact behind the door of a dungeon. They challenge it: 'Come on out, you bum!' They begin to fire at it again, until they have killed it. Consider these good people; at that moment they are really assassins, beings moved solely by the desire to kill. The homicidal monster which up to then had slumbered in them, awakens with the illusion that they are going to destroy something living. “For, the little fellow of cardboard, sawdust, or wood which moves back and forth amid the scenery is no longer a toy to them, or a bit of lifeless material. Watching it pass back and forth, they unconsciously endow it with warm blood, sensitive nerves, thought—all those things it is so bitterly sweet to annihilate and so fiercely delicious to see oozing from the wounds you have inflicted. They even go so far as to ascribe political and religious convictions to it, contrary to their own; accusing it of being a Jew, an Englishman, or a German, in order to add a particular hate to this general hatred of life, and thus augment the instinctive pleasure of killing by a personal vengeance, intimately relished.” Here the host interrupted out of politeness to his guests, and with the charitable desire of permitting our philosopher and us a breathing space. He objected, quietly: “You're only talking of brutes—peasants who, I concede, are always inclined toward murder. But it is not possible for you to apply the same observations to cultivated minds, disciplined natures, or cultured individuals every day of whose lives witnesses victories over native instinct and the savage vestiges of atavism.” To which our philosopher eagerly replied: “Allow me—what are the habits, my friend, and the preferred pleasures of those whom you call 'cultivated minds and disciplined natures'? Fencing, dueling, violent sports, the abominable pigeon−shoot, bull fighting, the various manifestations of patriotism, hunting—everything which is in reality only a reversion to the period of old−time barbarity, when man—if we may say so was, as far as moral culture is concerned, on the same plane with the wild beasts he pursued. After all, we need not complain that the hunt has survived all the slightly altered trappings of earlier customs. It is a powerful counter−irritant, through whose agency 'cultivated minds and disciplined natures' are enabled, without too much harm to us, to drain off what destructive energy and bloody passion still remains in them. Without it, instead of coursing deer, finishing off the boar and slaughtering innocent game−birds in the meadows, you may be sure that the 'cultivated minds would turn their packs on our trail. We would be the ones whom the 'disciplined natures' would joyfully mow down with rifle−fire, which they do not fail to do when they obtain the power, through some means or another, and with more determination and—let us frankly admit it—less hypocrisy than the brute peasant. Ah, let us never look forward to the disappearance of game from our fields and forests! It is our safeguard and, after a fashion, our ransom. The day it finally disappears, it will not be long before we take its place, for the exquisite enjoyment of the 'cultivated minds'. The Dreyfus affair affords us an excellent example, and never, I believe, was the passion for murder and the joy of the manhunt so thoroughly and cynically displayed. The pursuit of Monsieur Grimaux through the streets of Nantes remains the most characteristic of the startling incidents and monstrous events to which it gave opportunity daily during the past year. And it accrues to the honor of the 'cultivated minds and disciplined natures', who saw to it that this great savant, to whom we are indebted for the most brilliant researches in chemistry, was overwhelmed with indignities and threats of death. In this connection, we must always remember that the mayor of Clisson, 'a cultivated mind', in a letter which was made public, refused to allow Monsieur Grimaux to enter his town, and regretted that modern laws did not permit him to hang him high and dry—a thing which befell savants in the lovely days of the ancient monarchies. And for that, this excellent mayor was strongly commended by all whom France numbers among those exquisite 'worldly personalities' who, according to our host, win such brilliant victories every day over original instinct and the savage vestiges of atavism. Notice also that it is from among the cultivated minds and disciplined natures that officers are almost exclusively recruited. Men—that is to say—who, neither more nor less wicked nor stupid than others, freely choose a calling—a highly honored calling, moreover—in which every intellectual effort is bent toward committing the most diversified violations upon the human being; and in developing and compiling the most complete, far reaching and certain means of pillage, destruction and death. Aren't there warships to which we have given the perfectly logical and understandable names of Devastation... Fury... Terror? “As for me? Listen to this! I'm positive that I believe I am a normal man, with affections, high sentiments, superior culture and the refinements of civilization and sociability. Well, how often have I heard the imperious voice of murder snarling in me! How often have I felt the desire rising in a surge of blood from the depths of my being to my brain—that bitter, violent and almost invincible desire to kill. Do not believe that this desire arose in a passionate crisis, accompanied a sudden, unreflective rage, or was combined with a keen lust for money. Not at all! This desire is born suddenly—powerful and unjustified in me—for no reason and apropos of nothing... In the street, for example, behind the back of an unknown pedestrian. Yes, there are some backs on the street which cry for the knife. Why?” After this unexpected revelation, the philosopher was silent for a moment, and looked at us all in alarm; then he continued: “No—you see, the moralists have split hairs in vain. The need to kill is born in man with the need to eat, and merges with it... This instinctive need, which is the mainspring of all living organisms, is developed by education instead of being restrained, and is sanctified by religion instead of being denounced. Everything conspires to make it the pivot upon which our admirable society revolves. As soon as man awakens to consciousness, we instill the spirit of murder in his mind. Murder, expanded to the status of a duty, and popularized to the point of heroism, accompanies him through all the stages of his existence. He is made to adore uncouth gods, mad, furious gods who are only gratified by cataclysms and, ferocious maniacs that they are, gorge themselves with human lives and mow down nations like fields of wheat. He is made to respect only heroes, those disgusting brutes saddled with crime and red with human blood. The virtues by which he rises above others, and which win him glory, fortune and love, are based entirely upon murder. In war, he discovers the supreme synthesis of the eternal and everlasting folly of murder—regulated, regimented and obligatory—a national function. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, he will always see that word: murder—immortally inscribed upon the pediment of that vast slaughter−house—humanity. “Then why do you expect this man, in whom the scorn of human life is inculcated from infancy, and whom we consecrate to legalized slaughter—why do you expect him to recoil from murder when he finds in it interest or distraction? In the name of what law could society condemn assassins who, in reality, have only conformed to the homicidal laws which it dictates, and followed the bloody example which it sets them? 'Why is it?' assassins might readily say, 'that you force us to overpower groups of men whom we do not hate, whom we do not even know—then, the more we overwhelm them, the more you overwhelm us with rewards and honors? Then again, trusting in your logic, we destroy people because they hamper us or we detest them, or because we covet their money, their wives, their positions, or simply because we enjoy destroying them: all of which are concise, plausible and human reasons—and along comes the gendarme, the judge and the hangman! 'Here is a revolting injustice which is perfectly senseless!' What could society reply to that, if it had the slightest regard for logic?” A young man who had been silent until then said: “Is this really the explanation of that strange murderous mania by which you maintain we are all originally or willfully tainted? I do not think so and I do not wish to. I prefer to believe that everything about us is mysterious. Furthermore, this satisfies the indolence of my mind, which has a horror of solving social, and human problems which, besides, are never solved. And it strengthens the reasons—the purely poetic reasons by which I am tempted to explain, or rather not to explain, everything which I do not understand. You have just made quite a terrible disclosure, Doctor, and described impressions which, if they were to assume active form, might lead you far a field, and me also; for I have often experienced these impressions, and quite recently, under the following exceptionally banal circumstances. But first permit me to add that I ascribe these abnormal states of mind to the environment in which I was brought up, and the daily influences which affected me, unawares. “You know my father, Doctor Trepan. You know that there is no more sociable or charming man than he. Nor is there one of whom the profession has made a more deliberate assassin. I have often witnessed those marvelous operations which made him famous the world over. There is something truly phenomenal in his disregard for life. Once he had just performed a difficult laparotomy and, examining his patient, who was still under the influence of the chloroform, he suddenly said: “This woman may have an affected pylorus... suppose I also go into that stomach. I have time. Which he did. There was nothing wrong. Then my father started to sew up the needless wound he had made, saying: 'Now, at least, I'm certain.' He was so certain that the patient died the very same night. Another time, in Italy, where he had been summoned for an operation, we were visiting a museum. I was enraptured. 'Ah, poet! poet!' exclaimed my father, who was not interested for a moment in the masterpieces which carried me away with enthusiasm; 'Art! art! Beauty! Do you know what it is? Well, my boy, it is a woman's abdomen, open and all bloody, with the hemostats in place!' But I won't philosophize any more, I'll narrate... From the tale I promised you, you will deduce all the anthropological conclusions of which it admits, if it really admits of any...” This young man had So authoritative a manner and so bitter a tone, that it made us shiver slightly. “I was returning from Lyon,” he continued, “and I was alone in a first−class compartment. I've forgotten what station it was, but a traveler got on. I admit that the irritation of being disturbed when alone can bring about very violent states of mind, and arouse you to peevish behavior. But I experienced nothing of the sort. I was so bored with being alone that the chance arrival of this companion was rather a pleasure to me from the very start. He settled himself across from me, after carefully depositing his few bags in the rack. He was a bulky man, of common appearance, whose greasy ugliness shortly became obnoxious to me. After a few moments, I felt something like an insuperable disgust in looking at him. He was stretched opt heavily on the cushions, his thighs apart, and at every jolt of the train his enormous belly trembled and heaved like a disgusting mass of jelly. As he seemed hot, he took off his collar and sloppily mopped his forehead—a low, wrinkled and bumpy forehead, raggedly framed by a few short, sticky hairs. His face was merely a lumpy mass of fat; his triple chin a slack flap of soft flesh, spread on his chest. To avoid this unpleasant sight I pretended to look at the countryside, and forcibly tore myself away from the presence of this irksome companion. An hour passed. And when curiosity, stronger than my will, had drawn my eyes back to him, I saw that he had fallen into a deep and unprepossessing sleep. He slept, sunk into himself, his head drooping and rolling upon his shoulders, and his huge, bloated hands lay open upon the slopes of his thighs. I noticed that his round eyes bulged beneath creased eyelids, and that a bit of bluish pupil showed through a slit, like an ecchymosis on a scrap of limp veal. What insane idea suddenly flashed through my mind? Truly, I don't know. For though I had been frequently tempted by murder, it lay in me in an embryonic state of desire, and had never as yet assumed the precise form of a gesture or an act. Is it possible that the ignominious ugliness of this man alone was able to crystallize that gesture and that act? No, there is a more profound cause, of which I am ignorant. I arose quietly and approached the sleeper, my hands spread, contracted and violent, as though to strangle him.” With these words, being a story−teller who knew how to get his effects, he paused. Then, evidently satisfied with himself, he continued: “Despite my rather puny appearance, I am gifted with unusual strength, exceptional muscular agility, and extraordinary power of grip, and at that moment a strange heat unleashed the dynamic force of my bodily faculties. My hands alone moved towards this man's neck—by themselves, I assure you—burning and terrible. I felt in me a lightness, an elasticity, an influx of nervous tides, something like the powerful intoxication of sexual desire. Yes, I can't explain what I felt better than to compare it with that. The minute my hands were about to close upon this greasy neck, the man woke up. He awoke with terror in his eyes, and he stuttered: 'What? what? what?' And that was all! I saw that he wanted to say more, but he couldn't! His round eye flickered like a little light sputtering in the wind. Then it remained fixed and motionless upon me, in horror. Without saying a word, without even seeking an excuse or a reason, by which the man would have been reassured, I sat down again across from him and nonchalantly, with an ease of manner which still astonishes me, I unfolded a newspaper which, however, I did not read. Fear grew in the man's eyes with every moment; little by little he recoiled, and I saw his face grow spotted with red, then purple, then it stiffened. + + +All the way to Paris, the man's stare retained its frightful fixity. When the train stopped, the man did not get off... “ The narrator lit a cigarette in the flame of a candle, and from a cloud of smoke his phlegmatic voice was saying: “Oh, I know well enough. I had killed him! He was dead of cerebral congestion.” This story made us very uneasy, and we looked at each other stupefied. Was the strange young man sincere? Had he tried to mystify us? We awaited an explanation, a commentary or an evasion, but he was silent. Grave and serious, he had resumed smoking, and now he seemed to be thinking of something else. From then on the conversation continued chaotic and lifeless, skimming a thousand frivolous subjects in a languid manner. Then a man with a ravaged face, a bowed back and mournful eyes, whose hair and beard were prematurely grey, arose with difficulty and in a trembling voice, said: “Up to now you nave talked of everything but women, which is really inconceivable in a situation in which they are of primary importance.” + + +“Fine! Let's talk about them,” agreed the illustrious writer, who now found himself in his favorite environment; for in the literary world he passed for that curious fool called a feminist writer. “It's high time that all these bloody nightmares were infused with a little jollity. Let us talk of woman, my friends, since it is by her and through her that we forget our savage instincts—that we learn to love, and are raised to the supreme conception of pity and the idea!” The man with the ravaged face emitted a rasping, ironical laugh. “Woman, teacher of compassion!” he exclaimed; “Yes, I know the anthem. It is utilized a good deal in a certain type of literature, and in courses in drawing−room philosophy. Why, her entire history, and not only her history, but her role in nature and life contradicts this purely romantic concept. Why do women rush to bloody spectacles with the same frenzy that they fly to the pursuit of passion? Why is it that you see them in the streets, at the theatre, in the court of assizes or beside the guillotine, craning their necks and eagerly straining their eyes to sights of torture, in order to experience, to the swooning−point, the frightful thrill of death? Why does the very name of a great assassin make them tremble to the very depths of their flesh with a sort of delicious horror? All of them, or nearly all, dreamed about Pranzini! Why?” “Nonsense!” exclaimed the illustrious writer. “Prostitutes—” “No,” said the man with the ravaged face, “noblewomen—and bourgeoisies—it's the same thing. Among women there are no moral categories—only social categories. They are women. Among the common people and in the upper and lower middle−class, and right on up to the most elevated social strata, women pounce upon those hideous morgues and abject museums of crime that make up the fiction columns of the Petit Journal. Why? Because great assassins have always been formidable lovers. Their genetic powers equal their criminal powers. They love in the same way they kill! Murder is born of love, and love attains its greatest intensity in murder. There is the same physiological exaltation, there are the same gestures of strangling and biting—and often the same words occur during identical spasms.” He spoke with difficulty, with an air of suffering and as he spoke his eyes became more mournful and the wrinkles in his face were more accentuated. Woman, dispenser of ideality and compassion!” he went on: “Why, the most atrocious crimes are nearly always the work of woman. It is she who conceives them, organizes them, prepares them and directs them. If she does not execute them with her own hands, which are often too weak, you find her moral presence, her ideas, and her sex expressed in their ferocity and implacability. 'Look for the woman!' said the wise criminologist.” “You slander her!” protested the author, who could not conceal a gesture of indignation. “What you offer us as generalizations are the very rare exceptions. Degeneracy... neurosis... neurasthenia... My God! Woman is no more impervious to psychical disease than man—although with her these disturbances assume a charming and touching form, which makes us better understand the delicacy of her exquisite tenderness. No sir, you have fallen into a deplorable error. To the contrary, what we must admire in woman is her great common sense and her great love of life which, as I said before, finds its final expression in compassion.” “Literature, sir, literature! “And the worst possible kind!” “Pessimism, sir! Blasphemy! Stupidity!” “I think both of you are mistaken,” interrupted a physician; “women are far more specialized and complete than you think. Incomparable virtuosi and great artists in grief that they are, they prefer the sight of suffering to that of death, and tears to blood. And it's a wonderfully ambiguous business in which each finds what he is looking for; since everyone draws quite different conclusions. We exalt woman's compassion or curse her cruelty for equally irrefutable reasons, according to whether we are momentarily disposed to owe her gratitude or hatred. So what good are all these fruitless discussions; for in the eternal battle of the sexes, we are always conquered—and we can do nothing about it—and none of us as yet, be he misogynist or feminist, has found a more perfect instrument of pleasure, or any other means of reproduction, than woman.” But the man with the ravaged face made violent gestures of denial: “Listen to me,” he said. “The hazards of existence and what a life I've had—have placed me in the presence of—not a woman—but woman. I have seen her, stripped of the artifices and hypocrisies with which civilization veils her real soul. I have seen her abandoned to her single whim, or, if you prefer, to her sole driving instincts, in an environment where nothing, it is true, can restrain them and, on the contrary, everything conspires to excite them. Neither laws, morals, religious prejudices nor social conventions hid her from me—nothing. It was her true self I saw, in her original ,nudity, among gardens and tortures—blood and flowers! When she appeared to me I had fallen to the lowest point of human abjection—at least, I thought so. Then, before her amorous eyes and her compassionate mouth I cried out with hope, and I believed—yes, I believed that through her I would be saved. Well, it was something fearful! Woman revealed crimes to me that I had not known! shadows into which I had not yet descended. Look at my dead eyes, my inarticulate lips, my hands which tremble—only from what I have seen! But I can no more curse her than I can curse the fire which devours towns and forests, the waters which sink ships, or the tiger which carries his bloody prey in his jaws into the depths of the jungle. Woman possesses the cosmic force of an element, an invincible force of destruction, like nature's. She is, in herself alone, all nature! Being the matrix of life, she is by that very fact the matrix of death—since it is from death that life is perpetually reborn, and since to annihilate death would be to kill life at its only fertile source.” “What does that prove?” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders. He answered simply: “It proves nothing. Must things be proved in order to be painful or pleasant? They need only be felt...” Then, timidly and—oh, the power of human vanity!—with visible self−satisfaction, the man with the ravaged face took out of his pocket a roll of paper, which he carefully unfolded: “I have written,” he said, “the story of this period of my life. I have hesitated to publish it for a long time, and I still hesitate. I would like to read it to you—you who are men and have no fear of plumbing the blackest of human mysteries. May you be able to withstand its bloody horror! It is called: TORTURE GARDEN...” Our host called for fresh cigars and fresh drinks. +THE MISSION +PART 1 + +Before relating one of the most frightful episodes of my travels in the Far East, perhaps it will be interesting if I briefly explain under what conditions I was led to undertake them. It is contemporary history. To those who will be tempted to wonder at the anonymity which I have insisted on jealously maintaining in what concerns me in the course of this authentic and distressing story, I will say: “My name matters little; it is the name of a man who has caused great suffering to others as well as to himself—even more to himself than to others—and who, after many shocks suffered in a descent to the very dregs of human desire, is trying to reconstruct a soul for himself in solitude and obscurity. Peace to the ashes of his sin.” Twelve years ago, no longer knowing what to do, and condemned by a series of misfortunes to the cruel expedient of hanging myself or throwing myself into the Seine, I appeared before that court of last resort, the board of legislative elections, in a county in which, more over, I knew no one and had never set foot. It is true that my candidacy was officially supported by the cabinet which, no longer knowing what to do with me, found an ingenious and polite means of relieving itself once and for all of my daily harassing importunities. On this occasion I held a solemn and intimate interview with the Minister, who was my friend and old school−chum. “You see how nice we are to you!” this powerful, this generous friend said to me; “Scarcely have we snatched you from the jaws of justice—and we had a hard time doing it—than we're making you a deputy.” “Tm not nominated yet,” I said peevishly. “True! but you have every chance. Intelligent, of attractive appearance, debonair, and a good fellow when you care to be, you possess the sovereign gift of pleasing. Ladies' men, my boy, are always men of the people. I'll vouch for you. It's a question of properly understanding the situation. The rest is very simple.” And he admonished me: “Above all, rid politics! Don't commit yourself. + + +Don't fly off the handle! In the district I have chosen for you there is one question that supersedes all others: the beet. The rest doesn't count, and is the prefect's business. You are a purely agricultural candidate—more than that, exclusively a beet−candidate. Don't forget it for a moment. Whatever may happen in die course of the campaign, stand resolutely upon this excellent platform. Do you know anything about beets?” “Good Lord no!” I said, “except, like everybody else, I know you get sugar from them—and alcohol.” “Bravo! That's enough,” applauded the Minister, with friendly and reassuring emphasis. “proceed upon that data. Promise fabulous crops—extraordinary chemical fertilizers—free. Promise railroads, canals, routes for the transportation of this interesting and patriotic vegetable. Announce reductions in taxes, bonuses for the farmers, atrocious duties on competitive products—anything you like! You have carte blanche in this affair, and I'll help you. But don't get involved in personal or generalized polemics which might endanger you and, after your election, imperil the prestige of the Republic. For, between you and me, old man—I don't reproach you with any thing—I merely state facts—you have a rather awkward past.” I was in no mood to laugh. Vexed by this after−thought, which seemed to me unnecessary and unkind, I replied sharply, looking my friend squarely in the face; and he could read the cold, sharp threats that lay in my eyes: You might more truthfully have said, 'We have a past.' It seems to me, my friend, that mine has nothing on yours.” “Oh, as for me!” said the Minister, with an air of superior detachment and smug nonchalance, “it's not the same thing... I, old man—France covers my tracks!” Then, returning to my election, he added: “Now I'll continue. Beets—more beets—and still more beets! Such is your program. And see that you don't deviate from it.” Then he discreetly gave me some money and wished me good luck. I faithfully followed this program which my powerful friend had laid out for me, and I was wrong. I was not elected. I attribute the overwhelming majority which my adversary received, aside from certain dishonest manipulations, to the fact that this wretch was even more ignorant than I, and a more notorious blackguard. Let us notice, in passing, that at the present time a well−displayed swinishness supersedes all valid qualifications, and the more infamous a man is, the more we are inclined to endow him with intellectual force and moral courage. My adversary, who is today one of the indisputable glories of politics, had pilfered on many occasions. And his superiority may be attributed to the fact that instead of concealing his speculations, he boasted of them with the most revolting cynicism. “I've stolen! I've stolen!” he shouted down village streets, in public squares, along the countryside and across the fields. “I've stolen! I've stolen!” he proclaimed in his professions of faith, his bill−posters and confidential circulars. And in cabarets his agents, perched upon casks, spattered with wine and bloated with alcohol, reiterated and bellowed those magic words: “He's stolen! He's stolen!” The working classes in the cities, dazzled no less than the sturdy countrymen, acclaimed this bold man with a frenzy which swelled in direct proportion to die frenzy of his confessions. How could I contend with such a rival, who possessed such qualifications—I, who still had on my conscience (and modestly concealed them), merely the paltry peccadilloes of youth: petty thefts, extortion of money from mistresses, cheating at games, blackmail, anonymous letters, informing and forgery? Oh, the candor of innocent youth! One evening at a mass−meeting I even barely escaped being thrashed by some electors who were furious because, in view of my, opponent's scandalous statements, I had demanded—in addition to better beets—the right to be virtuous, moral and honest, and proclaimed the necessity of cleansing the Republic of the particular filth which dishonored it. They rushed upon me, grasped me by the throat, and my body was lifted and tossed from hand to hand, like a bundle. Luckily I escaped from the consequences of my excess of eloquence with only a swollen cheek, three bruised ribs and six broken teeth. + + +That is all I carried away from that disastrous adventure into which the protection of the Minister who claimed to be my friend had so unluckily led me. I was incensed. I had all the more right to be incensed since, suddenly, in the thick of the battle, the government had abandoned me, leaving me without support, and with only my beet as an amulet by which to make myself understood and to parley with my adversary. The prefect, at first quite humble, did not hesitate to become very insolent; then he refused me the data upon which my campaign rested, and finally he almost slammed his door in my face. The Minister himself no longer answered my letters, refused to grant me anything I asked him, and the partisan newspapers launched underhand attacks upon me and made derogatory allusions couched in polished and flowery prose, They never went so far as to attack me officially, but it was plain to everyone that I was being dismissed. Ah, I truly believe that no man has ever been so embittered as I! I returned to Paris firmly resolved to raise an issue at the risk of losing everything, and demanded an explanation of the Minister, whom my belligerent attitude immediately reduced to compliance and amiability. “Old man,” he said, “I regret what has happened to you. On my word of honor! You can see for yourself I'm miserable about it. But what could I do? I am not the only man in the cabinet, and—” “You're the only one I know!” I interrupted violently, upsetting piles of papers which lay near me on his desk. “The others don't concern me. The others are none of my business. You're the only one. You've betrayed me—it's vile!” “But damn it, listen a minute, will you!” begged the Minister, “and don't get angry like that before you know—” “I only know one thing, and that's enough for me. You've made a fool of me. Well then—no, no, it won't pass off as easily as you think. It's my turn now.” I walked up and down the office, uttering threats and kicking the chairs. “So! so! you've made a fool of me! Now we're going to have some fun! Then the country will know at last what a Minister is. At the risk of poisoning it, I'll show it—I'll expose the soul of a Minister to it. Idiot! So you didn't realize that you, your career, your secrets, and your portfolio, are at my mercy! So my past troubles you? It shocks your modesty, and Marianne's? Just wait! Tomorrow—yes, tomorrow, everything will be known—” I was choking with rage. The Minister tried to calm me, grasped me by the arm and drew me gently, into the armchair I had just bounded out of in fury. “Calm down!” he said to me, and his voice too on a pleading tone. “Listen to me, please! Come, sit down! Stubborn ass! You won't listen to anything! Here, this is what happened...” He uttered swift, short sentences, choppy and trembling: We reckoned without your opponent. In the campaign he revealed himself a powerful man—a real statesman! You know how restricted the eligible ministerial personnel is. Although the same candidates are always coming up, from time to time we have to show a new face to the Chamber and the country. Well, there is none. Do you know any? Well, we thought your opponent might be one of those faces. He has all the qualities suitable to a provisory Minister—an emergency Minister. Finally, since he was for sale and deliverable right then and there—you understand? It's hard on you, I admit... But the country's welfare, first of all—” “Don't talk nonsense. We're not in the Chamber now, It's not a question of the country's interests, which You don't give a damn about, and neither do I. It's a question of me. Well, thanks to you, I'm on the street. Yesterday the cashier of my gambling−joint insolently refused me a hundred sous. My creditors, banking on my success and furious at my defeat, are hounding me like a hare. I'll be sold out! Today, I haven't even the price of a dinner. And you simply imagine that things can go on like this? Well, have you become senseless—as senseless as a member of the majority?” The Minister smiled. He tapped me familiarly on the knee and said: “I'm entirely willing—but you won't let me speak—I'm entirely willing to grant you a compensation—” + + +“A reparation!” “A reparation, agreed!” “Complete?” “Complete! Come back in a few days... Doubtless I'll be in a position to offer it to you then. In the meantime here's a hundred louis. It's all I have left of the confidential funds.” Sweetly, with merry cordiality, he added: “A half−a−dozen more guys like you, and there'll be no budget!” This generosity, which had exceeded my expectations, possessed the power instantly to calm my nerves. Still grumbling incessantly, for I did not wish to appear disarmed or satisfied, I pocketed the two bills my friend smilingly held out to me, and I retired with dignity. I spent the following three days in the basest debauchery. + + +PART 2 + +Permit me to go back once more into the past. Perhaps it is not immaterial that I tell you who I am and where I come from. It will explain the irony of my fate so much better. I was born in the country, of a lower middle−class family—that honest, thrifty and virtuous middle−class which, they inform us in official bulletins, is the real France. Oh well, I am none the prouder for that. My father was a grain merchant. He was a very crude, uncultured man, and a very astute business man. He had the reputation of being very clever, and this great cleverness consisted of 'roping people in' as he used to say. To cheat about the quality and weight of merchandise; to charge two francs for what cost him two sous and whenever possible, without raising too much of a scandal, to get those two francs twice—such were his principles. For instance, he never delivered oats that he had not first soaked with water. In that way, the swollen grains yielded double measure to the liter or kilogram, especially when a little gravel had been added—a practice which my father always indulged in conscientiously. He also knew how discreetly to distribute in the bags blighted and other noxious seeds thrown off in threshing—and no one could adulterate fresh flour with fermented better than he. For in business, nothing must be wasted, and everything makes weight. My mother, who was even more greedy for dishonest profits, assisted him by her predatory ingenuity and sat stiff and distrustful, watching over the till as one mounts guard before an enemy. A strict Republican and a fiery patriot—he furnished supplies to the army—an intolerant moralist and a good man after all, in the popular sense of the word, my father had no pity and accepted no excuse for the dishonesty of others; especially when it was to his disadvantage. In such cases he could never cease talking about the necessity for honor and virtue. One of his great ideas was that in a well−organized democracy they should be made compulsory—like education, taxes and voting. One day he discovered that a teamster who had been in his service for fifteen years, was robbing him. He immediately had him arrested. At the trial the teamster defended himself as best he could: “But the boss never hesitated to 'rope people in'. Whenever he had played a good trick on a customer, he boasted about it as though he had done a good deed. 'The only thing is to take in the cash,' he used to say, 'no matter where or how you get it. To sell a dead cat for a live horse—that's the secret of business.' Well, I've done just what the boss does with his customers. I've roped him in.” These cynical remarks made a bad impression on the judges. They sentenced the teamster to two years in prison, not only for having pilfered a few kilograms of grain, but chiefly because he had slandered one of the oldest business houses in district... a house founded in 1794, whose long−standing, steadfast, and legendary respectability had been the ornament of the town from generation to generation. I remember that on the evening of this celebrated decision my father had gathered some friends at table: merchants like himself and, like him, rooted in this inaugural principle that to 'rope people in' was the very soul of trade. You can imagine how indignant they were about the defiant attitude of the teamster. They talked of nothing else until midnight; and out of the confusion, epigrams, discussions and little glasses of brandy, I distilled this precept: which was, so to speak, the moral of the episode and at the same time the synthesis of my education: To take something from a person and keep it for one self: that is robbery. To take something from one person and then turn it over to another in exchange for as much money as you can get: that is business. Robbery is so much more stupid, since it is satisfied with a single, frequently dangerous profit; whereas in business it Can be doubled without danger. It was in this moral atmosphere that in some way or other I grew up and developed entirely alone, with no other text than the daily example of my parents. Among the shop keeping classes children are generally left to their own devices, for no one has time to bother with their education. They educate themselves as best they can, at the mercy of their own dispositions and the pernicious influences of that environment, which is generally degrading and confined. Spontaneously, and without the need of any outward pressure, I contributed my own portion of emulation or invention to the family swindles. From the age of ten I had no other concept of life than theft, and I was convinced—oh, quite ingenuously I assure you—that to 'rope people in' constituted the foundation of all social intercourse. College determined the bizarre and tortuous direction I was to give to my own life, for it was there I met the man who was later to become my friend—the celebrated Minister, Eugene Mortain. The son of a wine−merchant, groomed for politics (just as I was for business) by his father, who was the chief electoral representative of the district, vice−president of the Gambettist committees and founder of various leagues, opposition groups and professional syndicates, Eugene bore within him from infancy the soul of 'a born statesman'. Although the recipient of a free scholarship, he immediately overawed us with his obvious superiority in effrontery and rudeness, and also by a solemn and vacuous manner of speaking which did violence to our enthusiasms. Besides, he inherited from his father the profitable and efficacious mania for organization. In a few weeks he had made short work of transforming, the college campus into a meeting place for all sorts of societies and clubs, committees and sub−committees, of which he simultaneously elected himself president, secretary and treasurer. There was the football association, the top association, the leap−frog society, and the walking dub; there was the horizontal−bar committee, the trapeze league, the one−legged race syndicate, etc. Every member of these various associations was obliged to contribute to the general fund—that is to say, our comrade's pockets—monthly dues of five sous which, among other advantages, entitled him to a subscription to the quarterly journal which Eugene Mortain edited as propaganda for the ideas, and the defense of the interests, of the numerous 'autonomous and solitary groups,' as he proclaimed. Evil instincts and appetites which were common to us both immediately bound us together and made of our close partnership a greedy and incessant exploitation of our comrades, who were proud to be syndicated. I soon discovered I was the lesser power in this duplicity, but the realization of this fact made me cling only the aster to the career of this ambitious companion. As compensation for lack of an equal division. I was always assured of being able to pick up a few crumbs... they sufficed me then. Alas! I have never had more than the crumbs of the cakes my friend devoured. I rediscovered Eugene later, during a difficult and distressing episode of my life. By dint of 'roping people in' my father had ended by being roped in himself, and not in the figurative sense which he applied to his customers. An unfortunate stock of provisions which, it appeared, poisoned an entire barracks, was the occasion for this deplorable incident, which crowned the total ruin of our house founded in 1794. My father might perhaps have survived his dishonor, for he was aware of the infinite indulgence of his epoch; but he could not survive his ruin. An attack of apoplexy carried him off one beautiful evening. He died, leaving my mother and me penniless. No longer able to count on him, I was definitely obliged to get myself out of the mess alone and,tearing myself away from the maternal lamentations, I fled to Paris where Eugene Mortain welcomed me with open arms. That worthy was rising little by little. Thanks to parliamentary protection, cleverly exploited, to the agility of his nature and his absolute lack of scruples, he was beginning to be well spoken of in the press, and in political and financial circles. He immediately employed me to do his dirty work, nor was it long before, living as I did in his shadow, I absorbed some of his notoriety, by which I did not know how to profit as I should have. But I was most lacking in the ability to persevere in wrongdoing. Not that I experienced belated qualms of conscience, remorse or fleeting desires for honesty: there is a diabolical streak in me, a relentless and inexplicable perversity which suddenly forces me, without apparent reason, to drop the best conducted of affairs and loosen my hold on the most greedily gripped throats. With practical qualities of the very first order, an acute flair for life, the audacity even to conceive the impossible and an exceptional alacrity in materializing it, I still have not the necessary tenacity of a man of action. + +Perhaps beneath the scoundrel that I am, there lies a misled poet? Perhaps a mystifier who enjoys mystifying himself? However, in foreknowledge of the future, and feeling that the day would inevitably come when my friend Eugene would want to get rid of a man who symbolized to him an embarrassing past, I had the cunning to compromise him by circulating derogatory stories, and the foresight to keep in my possession incontrovertible proofs. For fear of a downfall, Eugene was forced perpetually to drag me about after him like a ball and chain. While awaiting the supreme honors towards which the muddy stream of politics was bearing him, here, among other honorable matters, were the nature of his intrigues and the subjects of his preoccupation: Officially, Eugene had a mistress. She was then known as the Countess Borska. Not very young, but still pretty and desirable, now a Pole, now a Russian and frequently an Austrian, she naturally passed for a German spy. Therefore her salon was a hangout for most of our illustrious statesmen. Many political affairs were bandied about there, and amid considerable coquetry, many notable and dubious transactions found their inception. Among the most frequent guests of this salon, a certain Levantine financier, Baron K—, was conspicuous. He was a quiet man, with a wan grey face and dull eyes, who had revolutionized the Stock Exchange by his formidable manipulations. It was known, or at least it was said, that behind this silent and impenetrable mask one of the most powerful Empires of Europe was in operation. It was doubtless a purely romantic concept, for in these corrupt places one never knows which to admire more—their corruption or their insipidity. Nevertheless, Countess Borska and my friend entertained lively hopes of being taken into the confidence of the mysterious baron, and continued to hope all the more energetically as the latter opposed their discreet but definite advances, with an even more discreet and definite reserve. I even believe that he pushed his reserve so far as to give them malicious advice, which resulted in a disastrous transaction for our friends. Then they conceived of letting loose upon the recalcitrant banker a very pretty young woman, who was an intimate friend of their household, and to let me loose at the same time upon the very pretty young woman who, worked upon by them, was quite willing to accept us favorably—the banker for business, and me for pleasure. Their calculation was simple and I grasped it at the very start: introduce me into the place and there I, through the woman, and they through me, would become roasters of the secrets which the baron let slip in moments of tender forgetfulness! This is what might be called high−pressure politics! Alas! that demon of perversity, which visits me at the decisive moment when I ought to act, wished things otherwise, and brought about the clumsy abortion of this lovely project. At the dinner which was to seal this quite Parisian union, I behaved in so unmannerly a fashion to the young woman that after a scandalous scene she left the salon in shame, fury and tears, and went home, widowed of both our loves. The little celebration was cut short, and Eugene took me home in a cab. We went down the Champs Elysees amid a tragic silence. “Where shall I drop you off?” the great man said to me, as we turned the corner of the Rue Royale. “At the dive... on the boulevard,” I sneeringly replied to them, in a hurry to breathe some pure air, in the company of honest people. And suddenly, with a gesture of discouragement, my friend tapped me on the knee and oh, all my life I shall see the sinister expression of his mouth, and his look of hatred!——and he sighed: “Well! Well! No good will ever come of you!” He was right. And that time I could not blame him for it. Eugene Mortain belonged to that school of politicians which, under the famous name of opportunists, Gambetta unleashed upon France like a pack of carnivorous beasts. He aspired to power only for the material pleasures it could procure, and the money which clever men like he knew how to draw from muddy sources. Incidentally, I do not know why I am holding only Gambetta responsible for the historic honor of having gathered and unchained the miserable pack which still endures despite all the Panamas. Gambetta assuredly loved corruption; there lay in that thundering democrat a voluptuary, or rather a lusty dilettante who reveled in the stench of decomposition. But it must be said in his exoneration, and to their glory, that the friends with whom he surrounded himself, and which chance rather than judicious selection had rallied to his short−lived career, were rascals enough to hurl themselves of their own accord, upon that eternal prey, in which so very many jaws had already fleshed their furious teeth. Before attaining to the Chamber, Eugene Mortain had tackled every trade—even the lowest; he had passed through the lowest and shadiest depths of journalism, You cannot choose all your openings—you must take them where you find them. His initiation into Parisian life was spirited and prompt—and, moreover, carefully calculated. I mean that life which flows from the editorial offices to the Parliament, by way of the prefecture of police. Since he was devoured by immediate needs and ruinous appetites, there was no important blackmailing scheme or underhand affair of which our honest Eugene was not in some way or other the mysterious and violent brain. He had negotiated that stroke of genius whereby a great section of the press had been syndicated, in order to expedite the success of his vast undertakings. In this sort of discredited enterprise knew a good many of his calculations to be pure master−pieces, which revealed this little, rapidly cultivated provincial as an astounding psychologist and an admirable organizer of the evil instincts of the outcast. But he had the modesty never to boast of the beauty of his achievements, and the priceless art, by making use of others, of never exposing his own person in hours of danger. With constant craftiness and a perfect knowledge of his fields of operation, he always managed to avoid, by circumnavigation, the dank and muddy swamps of the police correctional, into which so many others clumsily allowed themselves to be engulfed. It is true that my assistance—be it said without fatuity—was not entirely useless to him in many circumstances. He was, into the bargain, a charming fellow; yes, in truth, a charming fellow. He could only be reproached for an awkwardness of demeanor—a persistent vestige of his provincial education—and vulgar details which added to the unpleasant conspicuousness of his too recently acquired wealth. But all these things were only externals which concealed all the better, from casual observers, whatever subtle resources his mind possessed, together with his acute instincts, his shrewd agility, and all the greedy and terrible tenacity of his soul. To rightly appreciate that soul it would have been necessary to see—as I, alas, have seen them so many times!—the two wrinkles which, at certain moments of relaxation, drooped from the corners of his lips and gave a frightful expression to his mouth—Ah yes, he was a charming fellow! “By judicious duels he silenced the malevolent rumors which always surround meteoric personalities. His natural gaiety and good—natured cynicism (which we readily considered an amiable paradox), no less than his lucrative and widely publicized love−affairs, succeeded in acquiring for him a questionable reputation, which was, however, enough for a future statesman who Was yet to go through the mill. He also possessed that marvelous faculty of being able to speak for five hours and on any subject, without ever expressing an idea. His quenchless eloquence poured forth ceaseless and indefatigable—the slow, monotonous, and suicidal torrent of the political vocabulary—and just as fluently upon questions of the merchant marine as on school reform, on finance as well as the beaux arts, on agriculture as well as religion. The parliamentary reporters recognized in him their own universal incompetence, and patterned their written jargon after his spoken gibberish. Obliging when it cost him nothing; generous and even prodigal when it might be very profitable to him; arrogant and servile according to circumstances and individuals; awkwardly skeptical, grossly corrupt, an enthusiast devoid of spontaneity and an unspontaneous wit—he was liked by everyone. Therefore his swift rise surprised and disconcerted no one. It was, to the contrary, favorably received by different political parties, for Eugene was not considered a fierce partisan, he discouraged no hope or ambition, and it was not unknown that, when the time was ripe, an understanding might be reached with him. All that mattered was to set the price. Such was the man and such the 'charming fellow' in whom my last hopes rested, and who actually held my life and death between his fingers. You will notice that in this hastily outlined sketch of my friend I have modestly effaced myself, although I collaborated vigorously, and often by curious methods, in the making of his career. I might tell any number of stories which are not, you may believe, exceptionally edifying. But what good would a complete confession be, since you may guess at all my depravities without any necessity for further display? And then, my role opposite this bold and prudent scamp was always—I do not say insignificant, ah nor laudable, for you would laugh in my face—but it remained almost a secret. Allow me to remain in that scarcely discreet shadow with which I have been pleased to shroud those years of sinister struggle and shady machination. Eugene does not 'acknowledge' me. And I myself, out of what remains of a quite bizarre modesty, occasionally feel an overwhelming repugnance at the thought that I might easily pass for his 'cat's−paw'. Besides, it occasionally happened that for entire months I lost sight of him, and 'gave him the slip', as we say, finding in the gambling−dens, at the Stock Exchange and in the dressing−rooms of kept women, sustenance which I was tired of seeking in politics, and whose quest was more to my taste for laziness and the unexpected. Sometimes, in the grip of a sudden poetic mood, I buried myself in a God−forsaken corner of the country, and in the presence of nature aspired to purity, silence and moral rehabilitation which, alas! never lasted very long. And I returned to Eugene at times of crisis. He did not always welcome me with the cordiality I demanded of him. It was obvious that he would have liked to get rid of me. But with a clean, sharp cut of the check−rein, I recalled him to the reality of our mutual situation. One day I distinctly saw the flame of murder glowing in his eyes. I was not alarmed, but firmly placed my hand upon his shoulder, like a gendarme does to a robber, and I said banteringly: “What of it? What will it get you? My corpse itself will accuse you. Don't be so stupid! I've let you get where you wanted. I've never crossed your ambition. To the contrary, I have worked for you as well as I was able... loyally, isn't it true? Do you think it's pleasant for me to see us—you on top, strutting in the limelight, and me at the bottom, stupidly floundering through the mire? And then, by a flip of the hand, this marvelous career, laboriously built up by us both—” “Oh! by us both... “ hissed Eugene. “Yes, by us both, swine!” I repeated, exasperated by this untimely correction. “Yes, by a flip of the hand... a breath... and you know it—I could destroy that marvelous career. I need only say one word, you cur, to hurl you from power to the workhouse; to make of the Minister you are—ah, so ironically!—the galley slave you might be if justice still existed and I weren't the basest of cowards. Well! I will not make that gesture, and I won't say the word. I leave you to receive the adulation of men and the esteem of foreign courts, because, you see... I find it stupendously amusing. Only, I want my share, you hear!... my share. And what do I ask? What I ask is ridiculous. Nothing—crumbs... although I might demand everything—everything! I beg you—don't exasperate me any further; don't drive me to the wall any longer. Don't force me to create melodramatic scenes. For the day I have had enough of life, enough, of the slime, that slime—your slime, whose intolerable odor I smell about me all the time... well, that day his Excellency Eugene Mortain won't laugh, my boy. I swear it!” Then, with an embarrassed smile, in which the folds around his drooping lips gave his face an expression of beastly fear and impotent lust to kill, Eugene said to me: “But you're crazy to tell me all this... and apropos of what? Have I refused you anything, you sorehead?” And, gaily, with a multiplicity of gesture and grimace which bewildered me, he comically added; “Do you want the Cross of the Legion of Honor, eh?” Yes, truly, he was a charming fellow. +PART 3 + +Some days after the scene of violence which followed my unfortunate defeat I met Eugene again at a friend's house, the home of that good Mme. G—, where we had both been invited to dine. Our handshake was cordial and you'd have thought nothing unpleasant had passed between us. “I don't see you anymore,” he reproached me, in that tone of noncommittal geniality which in him was only the refinement of hatred. “Have you been ill?” “Certainly not. I travel towards oblivion, that's all.” “Incidentally—have you recovered your senses? I'd like very much to talk to you for five minutes after dinner... if you don't mind.” “Then you've got something new?” I asked with a bitter smile, so he might see that I refused to be dismissed as a matter of little consequence. “I?” he said. “No... nothing... a tentative project. Well, we'll see.” I was ready with an impertinent reply when Mme. G—, an enormous bundle of swaying flowers, dancing feathers and billowing lace, interrupted our + + +conversation. “Ah, my dear Minister,” she sighed, “when will you ever rid us of these dreadful socialists?” And she carried Eugene off to a group of young women who, by the way they were grouped in a corner of the salon, impressed me with being there for hire, like those nocturnal creatures at a cafe−concert who, with their excessive décolletage and borrowed finery, add the final touch to their tawdry surroundings. Mme. G— had the reputation of playing an important part in Society and the Government, and among the innumerable comedies of Parisian life, the influence attributed to her was not one of the least amusing. The paltry chroniclers of the petty events of that time seriously related (after establishing brilliant parallels in the past), that her salon was the starting−point and the goal of political careers and literary aspirations; and consequently the rendezvous of all the young and ambitious, and the old and likewise. According to them, it was there that contemporary history was made, there the downfall and accession of cabinets was plotted, and there, amid genial intrigues and delicious small−talk, + + +for it was a salon where people talked—that foreign alliances as well as academic elections were negotiated. It was said that M. Sadi Carnot himself—who then reigned over French hearts—had been given to clever maneuvers in his dealings with this formidable power, and to keep in its good graces he gallantly offered it, for lack of his approbation, the most beautiful flowers of the Elysee gardens and the city hothouses. From having known M. Thiers and M. Guizot, Cavour and the elder Metternich, during the time of her, or their youth—Mme. G— was not very sure of her chronology on that point—this ancient personage retained a prestige with which the Republic loved to adorn itself, as with a perennial grace; and her salon benefited by the posthumous glory which those illustrious names (invoked on all occasions) recalled to the shrunken individualities of the present. Moreover, people went to this select salon as to a county fair; and never have I seen—I who've seen so many a stranger medley of human beings or a more ridiculous social masquerade. There was a host of out casts from the worlds of politics, + + +journalism, clubs, society, the theatre and the world at large—and women of the same sort—she received them all. No one was deceived by this pseudo−atmosphere, but each one found it incumbent—in order to exalt himself—to glorify a notoriously low environment in which many of us found, not only scarcely mentionable sustenance, but even our only reason for being. Besides, I have an idea that most of the salons so famous in former times where roving political ambitions and unemployed literary pretensions of the most varied species came to commune, resembled this one pretty accurately... No more am I convinced that this one differed essentially from others highly praised in lyrical panegyrics and on all occasions, for their difficulty of access or their exquisite moral standards. The truth is that Mme. G—, stripped of her exaggerated fame and poetic legends and reduced to the real character of her worldly personality, was just a very vulgar−minded old woman, of scant and, in the bargain extremely vicious education. No longer able to cultivate the flower of vice in her own garden, she cultivated it elsewhere with a tranquil + + +shamelessness. It was difficult to know whether its boldness or its ingenuousness was more to be admired. For professional love−affairs, which she had been obliged to abandon, she had substituted a mania for contriving extramarital unions and separations, which it was her delight and her only sin to follow up, direct, protect and hatch; and thus warm her shriveled old heart by the heat of their forbidden flames. At the home of this great politician, sanctified by Messieurs Thiers and Guizot, by Cavour and the elder Metternich, you were always sure to find kindred souls, impending adultery, lusts under weigh, and passions of all kinds, freshly equipped for the race at any time an invaluable stock−in−trade in the event of sentimental ruptures and dull evenings. Why did I have the idea of going to Mme. G—'s that particular evening? I don't know, for I was quite melancholy and scarcely in the mood for merrymaking. My anger with Eugene was quite appeased, at least momentarily, and a great fatigue—a great disgust, had replaced it: disgust with myself, with others, with everybody. Since that morning I had reflected seriously on my situation, + + +and despite the Minister's promises with which, moreover, I had decided not to let him off easily—I saw no suitable outcome. I realized that it was quite difficult for my friend to procure me a permanent official situation, something honorably parasitical and officially remunerative, by whose means I might be enabled to end my days in peace—a respectable old man and an irreproachable office−holder. Besides, it is probable that I would have immediately bungled this position; then, from all sides, simultaneous objections would have been raised in the name of public morality and the decency of the Republic, to which the Minister, when questioned, would not have known how to reply. Anything he could offer me through transitory and miserable expedients and sorry juggling of the budget, would only have been a postponement of the inevitable hour of my downfall. And then I could not even count on this minimum of favors and protection forever, any more than Eugene could count upon the everlasting stupidity of the public. Many dangers already threatened the cabinet, and many scandals, to which, now and then, some newspapers, dissatisfied with the graft they + + +were receiving, were making more and more direct allusions and undermining the personal security of my protector, Eugene only maintained his power by aggressive attacks upon unpopular and defeated parties, and also by cash payments which, as I suspected at the time, and was later demonstrated, he received from outside, in exchange each time for a pound of the country's flesh. I had carefully considered working for the downfall of my comrade, and cleverly worming my way to the side of a likely ministerial leader, and thus, by the aid of this new collaborator, recovering a sort of social virginity. Everything impelled me to it: my nature, my own welfare, and also the violently delicious pleasure of vengeance. But besides the uncertainties and dangers which surrounded this scheme, I had neither the courage to risk another adventure, nor to repeat such maneuvers. I had burned my candle at both ends, and I was weary of these perilous and precarious adventures which had led me—whither? I was experiencing mental fatigue, a paralysis of my energies, and all my faculties were diminishing while still in their prime, sapped by + + +neurasthenia. Ah, how I regretted not having followed the straight roads of life! At the moment I sincerely hope for nothing better than the mediocre joys of middle−class respectability, and I wished no more, and could bear no more of these sudden jolts of fortune, these choices of misery which had not left me a moment of respite, and had made of my existence a perpetual and tortured anxiety. Then what was to become of me? The future seemed sadder and even more hopeless to me than winter twilight falling in a sickroom. In a little while, after dinner, what new infamy would the infamous Minister propose to me? Into what deeper mire, from which I could never rise, did he want to thrust me, and make me disappear forever? I glanced about for him amid the throng. He was hovering about the women. Nothing about his skull or shoulders indicated that he bore the heavy burden of his crimes. He was carefree and gay. And to see him thus redoubled my rage at the realization of our mutual impotence—his to save me from shame, and mine to fling him into it... ah yes, to fling him into it! Crushed by these multiple, piercing + + +preoccupations, it was not astounding that I had lost my fervor, and that the beautiful creatures selected and displayed by Mme. G— for the pleasure of her guests, left me cold. During dinner I behaved in an extremely disagreeable fashion, and scarcely spoke to my neighbors whose lovely bosoms gleamed amidst their flowers and jewels. It was believed that my electoral defeat was the cause of this somber mood in one so ordinarily joyful and gallant. “Cheer up!” they said to me. “What the devil, you're still young! You need guts for a political career. Better luck next time.” To these banal consolations, engaging smiles, and inviting bosoms, I obstinately replied: “No... no. Don't talk politics to me. It's infamous! Don't talk to me any more about universal suffrage. It's idiotic! I've had enough. I don't want to hear them mentioned again.” Then Mme. G—, her feathers, flowers and lace suddenly rising before me in variegated and scented waves whispered in my ear with the affected raptures and moist coquetries of an old procuress: “Love is everything, you see. There is never + + +anything but love! Try love! Listen: just tonight there is a young Romanian here... passionate... ah, a poet, my dear, and a countess! I'm sure she's mad about you. Anyhow, all women are mad about you. I'll introduce you.” I side−stepped this crudely arranged opportunity, and in a sullen and enervated silence persistently awaited the end of this interminable evening. Monopolized by everyone, it was quite late before Eugene could rejoin me. We took advantage of the fact that a celebrated diva was momentarily absorbing everyone's attention, to hide in a sort of little smoking−room which was lit by the discreet glow of a tall floor lamp, draped with rose−colored gauze. The Minister sat down on the couch, lit a cigarette, and while I negligently straddled a chair opposite him and crossed my arms on its back, he seriously said: “I've been thinking a lot about you these last few days.” Doubtless he expected some word of thanks, a friendly gesture, or a movement which might indicate interest or curiosity. I remained motionless, forcing + + +myself to preserve that air of haughty and almost insolent indifference, with which I had determined to receive the treacherous suggestions of my friend; for, from the beginning of the evening, I had set my heart on these suggestions being treacherous. Insolently, I pretended to look at the portrait of M. Thiers which occupied the top of the panel behind Eugene and was overcast by all the dark shadows which played across its over−varnished surface, with the exception, however, of his white pear shaped topknot which became of itself the unique and complete expression of the obliterated face. Muffled by the closed portieres, the sound of the party came to us like a distant hum. Shaking his head, the Minister went on: “Yes, I've thought of you a great deal. Well! it's difficult... quite difficult.” Again he grew silent, seeming to reflect on important matters. I took pleasure in prolonging the silence in order to enjoy the embarrassment into which this teasing attitude could not fail to throw my friend. Once more I was to see this dear protector before me, ridiculous and unmasked—perhaps suppliant! He remained + + +calm, however, and did not seem to be in the least concerned with the over—obvious hostility of my bearing. “You don't believe me,” he said, in a firm and tranquil voice. “Yes, I feel you don't believe me. You imagine I only think of fooling you, as I fool the others—isn't that true? Well, you're wrong, my boy. Besides, if this conversation bores you—it's easy enough to break it off.” He pretended to get up. “I didn't say that!” I protested, shifting my glance from M. Thiers' topknot to Eugene's icy face. “I didn't say anything.” “Then listen to me. Shall we talk, once and for all, and in all frankness, about our mutual situation?” “So be it! I'm listening.” Faced with his assurance, little by little I lost my own. Contrary to what I had so egotistically conjectured Eugene was regaining all his authority over me, and I felt him escaping me again. I felt it by that ease of gesture, that almost elegant manner, that firmness of tone and that entire self−possession which he never really displayed except when he was considering his most sinister strokes. At those times + + +he possessed a sort of forceful seductiveness, a magnetic power which it was difficult to resist, even though you were forewarned, Though I knew him, yet to my misfortune I had often been the victim of his malefic charm, which should never have surprised me again. Well! all my belligerence abandoned me, my hatred relaxed, and despite myself I found I was regaining confidence and so completely forgetting the past, that this man whose inexorable and fetid soul I had tracked to its darkest recesses—I discovered I was considering once more a generous friend, a hero of magnanimity—a savior! Ah, I would like the power to express the accent of force, crime, callousness and ease which he put into his words—and this is what he said to me: “You've seen politics close enough to know that a degree of power exists at which the most infamous man finds himself protected from himself by his own infamy; and even more strongly, against others, by the infamy of others. There is only one trait which is irreparable in a statesman: honesty! Honesty is negative and sterile; it is ignorant of the correct evaluation of appetite and ambition—the only powers + + +through which you can found anything durable. The proof of this is that idiot Favrot—the only honest man in the Cabinet, and also the only one whose political career is, by common consent, totally and forever lost! Just to let you know, my boy, that a campaign directed against me leaves me absolutely indifferent.” I made a rapid, ambiguous gesture: “Yes—yes... I know... they're talking about my ruin... my impending, downfall... the police.. the Mazas prison! 'Death to the robbers!' Absolutely! What don't they talk about? Well then? It makes me laugh, that's all! And you yourself, under pretext that you think you've been mixed up in some of my affairs of which, let me say in passing, you know only one side—under pretext of withholding—at least, you go shouting it all over—some vague papers about which, my boy, I give that!” Without interrupting himself, he showed me his extinguished cigarette, which he immediately crushed in an ashtray that lay on the little lacquer table beside him. “You yourself... you think you can terrify me into + + +compliance... blackmail me like an insolvent banker! You're a child! Think a minute. My downfall? Now, can you tell me who would dare, at this time, to assume the responsibility for such a piece of insanity? Who doesn't know that it would involve the cave−in of too many things; too many men whom it is no more possible to reach than I—under penalty of abdication or death? For I wouldn't be the only one to be overthrown. I wouldn't be the only one to wear the ball and chain. The entire Government, the entire Parliament, the entire Republic, whatever it may do, is linked up with what are called my transgressions, my embezzlements, my crimes. They think they've got me, and it's I who have them! Don't worry, I've got a good grip on them.” And he clutched an imaginary throat. The expression of his mouth, with its drooping corners, became hideous, and purple veinlets appeared in his eyeballs, which gave to his glance an implacable suggestion of murder. But he hastily composed himself, lit another cigarette, and went on: “Let them overthrow the Cabinet—agreed! And + + +I'll help in it. Thanks to the work of that honest Favrot, we're involved in a series of inextricable problem; whose logical solution is simply that they cannot possibly have any. A ministerial crisis is imminent, and an entirely new program. Please notice that I am, or at least I appear to be, alien to these difficulties. My responsibility is only a parliamentary fiction. In the hallways of the Chamber and in certain sections of the press, I am being adroitly separated from my colleagues. Thus, my personal situation of course remains politically clear. Better than that, upheld by the groups whose leaders I've succeeded in interesting in my career, sustained by the big banks and the great companies, I am becoming the one man indispensable to the new regime. I am the chosen President of the forthcoming Council. And it's ate the very moment when my downfall is proclaimed from all sides that I am attaining the peak of my career! I admit that it's comical, my boy, and that they haven't got hold of my hide yet.” Eugene had become sprightly again. The idea that there was no intermediate point for him between + + +these two poles: the Presidency of the Council or the Mazas prison, exhilarated his spirits. He drew close to me and tapping me on the knee, as he did in moments of relaxation or gaiety, he repeated: “Come... admit it's funny!” “Very funny!” I agreed. “But what place have I in all this?” “You? Well, here it is! You, my friend—must go away—disappear... a year... two years... what's that? You need to be forgotten.” And as I prepared to object: “But damn it all! Is it my fault?” Eugene cried, “If you've stupidly spoiled all the excellent jobs I've laid in your lap? A year—two years—it's soon over. You'll come back with a new virginity and I'll give you everything you want. Till then, nothing—I can do nothing. My word of honor! I can't do a thing.” I was still somewhat furious, but it was in a weak voice that, I cried: “Damn! damn! damn!” Eugene smiled, realizing that my resistance had ended with that outburst. “Come, come!” he said to me good−naturedly, “don't be obstinate. Listen to me. I've thought about it a good deal. You must go away. In your interest, for + + +your future. I can't think of anything else. Come! Are you... how shall I put it? Are you an embryologist?” He read my reply in the bewildered look I cast him. “No! you are no embryologist. Sad! very sad!” “Why do you ask that? Now what kind of a joke is it?” “Just this—that at this time I might easily obtain considerable funds—oh, relatively!—but at least substantial funds, for a scientific expedition they might be willing to entrust to you.” And without giving me time to reply, in short, humorous sentences accompanied by comical gestures he explained the business to me: “It involves going to India, Ceylon, I believe, to drag the sea, in the gulfs, and study what the scientists call the pelagic ooze, you understand? And among the gastropoda, the corals, the heteropoda, the madrepora, the siphonophora, the holothuroidea and radiolaria—how should I know?—to discover the primordial cell—pay close attention... the protoplasmic initum of organized life, or something like that. It's charming and as you see—very simple.” “Very simple indeed,” I murmured mechanically. + + +“Yes, but there it is,” concluded this true statesman, “you aren't an embryologist.” And with benevolent sorrow he added: “It's annoying!” My protector reflected a few moments. I was silent, not having had time to recover from the stupor into which this unexpected proposition had plunged me. “My God!” he went on, “there might be another expedition—for we actually have lots of expeditions and don't know what to spend the donor's money on. If I remember rightly, this one would be to go to the Fiji Islands and Tasmania, to study the various systems of penitentiary administration in use there, and their application to our social system. Only it's less amusing and I must warn you the funds are not enormous. And they're still cannibals down there, you know! You think I'm joking, eh? That I'm telling you a fairytale? But, my boy, all expeditions are like that. Ha!” Eugene started to laugh with gentle malice. “There is still the secret police. Ha ha! You might possibly find a good job in that... what do you say?” In difficult circumstances my mental faculties + + +become active and more acute, my energies are unleashed and I am endowed with a sudden influx of ideas, and a promptness of decision which always astonishes me and has often served me well. “Bah!” I cried, “after all I could easily be an embryologist once in my life. What do I risk? Science won't die of it. It's been through the mill! Done! I accept the expedition to Ceylon.” “And you're right. Bravo!” applauded the Minister; “seeing that embryology, my boy, Darwin, Haeckel... Carl Vogt, after all—it must be a great joke! Ah, my lad you won't be bored down there. Ceylon is marvelous. They say there are extraordinary women there, little lace makers—beautiful—temperamental! It's the earthly paradise! Come to the Ministry tomorrow and we'll wind up the business officially. In the meantime you don't have to shout it from the housetops, because you know I'm playing a dangerous joke which might cost me dearly. Come!” We arose and, while I went back to the salon on the Minister's arm, he said again, with charming irony: “Eh? After all! Suppose you discover the cell? + + +Who knows? Berthelot would make a face, eh?” This scheme had given me back a little courage and a little gaiety. Not that it pleased me entirely; I would have preferred a general receivership, for instance, to this commission as an illustrious embryologist, or a well−upholstered seat in the State's Council. But you have to compromise, and besides, the adventure was not without its amusing aspect. From a simple political vagabond, such as I had been a few moments before, you cannot, by a wave of the ministerial wand, become an eminent scientist about to violate the mysteries at the very springs of life, without experiencing something of a mystifying pride and a comical grandeur. The soiree, begun miserably, was ending in hilarity. I accosted Mme. G—, who was excitedly organizing love, and promenading adultery from group to group and couple to couple. “And that adorable Romanian countess,” I asked her, “"is she still mad about me?” “Still, my dear...” She took me by the arm. Her feathers were + + +drooping, her flowers wilted, and her flounces hung limply. “Come along!” she said; “she's in the little Guizot salon, flirting with Princess Onane.” “What! she too?” “But my dear,” replied this great politician, “at her age, and with her poetic nature, it would really be unfortunate if she had not tried everything!” + + +PART 4 + +My preparations were soon made. I was lucky in that the young Romanian countess, who had become quite attached to me, was willing to assist me with her advice and, I say it with shame—with her purse too. Besides I had all the luck. My expedition got off to a good start. By an exceptional anomaly of bureaucratic procedure, eight days after that conclusive conversation in Mme. G—'s salons, I obtained the above−mentioned funds without the slightest red tape or delay. They were more generously computed than I had dared to hope, for I was familiar with the swinishness of the government in these matters, and the poor little arbitrary budgets by which they so pitifully gratify scientists on expeditions—real scientists. Undoubtedly, lowed this unusual liberality the fact that, not being a scientist at all, I had more need than anyone else for greater resources, in order to play the part. They had counted on the maintenance of two secretaries and two servants, the costly purchase of + + +anatomical instruments, microscopes, photographic apparatus, collapsible boats, diving−bells, and even wide−mouthed jars for scientific collections, hunting rifles and cages designed to bring captured animals back alive. Truly, the government does things in grand style, and I could not help but praise it. It goes without saying that I did not buy any of these impedimenta, and that I decided not to take anyone along, counting upon my ingenuity alone to find my way in the midst of these untracked jungles of science and India. I profited by my leisure to inform myself about Ceylon, its customs and landscapes, and to construct an idea of the life I would lead down there in those terrible tropics. Even after eliminating the exaggerated, boastful, and mendacious elements of travelers' tales, I was enchanted by what I read—particularly by this detail, reported by a sober German savant: that in the suburbs of Colombo there exists, amid fairy gardens by the sea, a marvelous villa bungalow, as they say, in which a rich and eccentric Englishman maintains a sort of harem, where all the races of India, from the black + + +Tamoules to the sinuous bayaderes of Lahore, and the demoniac bacchantes of Benares, are represented by perfect specimens of femininity. I definitely made up my mind to find some means of gaining access to this amateur polygamist, and to confine my studies of comparative embryology to that spot. The Minister, whom I visited to say goodbye and confide my plans, approved all these projects, and quite gaily praised the virtue of my economy. When he left me he spoke with an emotional eloquence, while I, under the torrent of his words, experienced a tenderness—the pure, refreshing and sublime tenderness of a good man. “Go, my friend, and come back to us stronger... come back to us a new man and a glorious savant. Your exile, which I have no doubt you will employ in the accomplishment of great deeds, will replenish your energies for future struggles. It will temper them in the very springs of life, in the cradle of humanity which... of humanity, of which... Go... and if on your return you find—which I cannot believe—if you can, I say, bad memories persisting, difficulties... hostility... + + +an obstacle to your rightful ambitions... remember that you possess enough little memoranda about the governmental personnel to triumph over it with a high hand. Sursum corda! Count on me, besides. While you are down there, courageous pioneer of progress and a soldier of science... while you are sounding the gulfs and questing the mysterious atolls for France, for our dear France—I shan't forget you, you may well believe me. Cleverly, step by step, through the Agence Havas and in my own newspapers, I shall find a means of creating a commotion about you—our coming young embryologist. I'll devise magnificent and pathetic blurbs—'Our great embryologist'... 'We learn from our young and illustrious savant, whose embryological discoveries, etc.'... 'While he was studying a hitherto unknown holoihurian under twenty fathoms of water, our indefatigable embryologist barely escaped being carried off by a shark... a terrific struggle... etc.' Go, go, my friend, work fearlessly for the glory of the nation. Today a race is not only treat by virtue of its arms; it is great, above all, through its arts... through its sciences. The peaceful conquests of science + + +serve civilization more than the conquests of... etc., etc... Cedant arma sapientio!” I wept for joy, pride, grandeur and exaltation—the exaltation of my being towards something stupendous, and stupendously beautiful. Projected beyond my ego, I know not whence, I had, at that moment, another soul—an almost divine soul, a creative and sacrificial soul—the soul of some sublime hero in whom the supreme confidence of the nation resides—and all the strongest hopes of humanity. As for the Minister—that bandit Eugene—he could scarcely contain his emotion. He had real enthusiasm in his glance, a sincere quaver in his voice. Two little tears fell from his eyes. He almost crushed my hand in his grip. For several moments both of us were the unconscious and comic toys of our own deception. Ah, when I think of it! + + +PART 5 + +Armed with letters of Recommendation to the authorities at Ceylon, I finally embarked at Marseille one splendid afternoon, on the Saghalien. From the moment I set foot on the steamer, I was immediately aware of the value of an official title, and how, by the prestige which attaches to it, a fallen man, such as I was then, rises in the estimation of unknown people and passersby, and consequently in his own. The captain, who 'knew my works', overwhelmed me with attentions—almost with honors. The most comfortable cabin had been reserved for me, and also the best place at table. As the news had rapidly spread among the passengers of the presence on board of a celebrated scientist, everyone went out of his way to pay me his respects. I saw nothing but a glow of admiration on their faces. The women themselves gave evidence of curiosity and good will; some, discreetly, and others, by manifesting a bolder sentiment. One, above all, violently attracted my attention. She was a marvelous creature with heavy copper hair and + + +green eyes flecked with gold, like those of jungle beasts. She was traveling with three maids—one of whom was Chinese. I inquired about her from the captain. “She's English,” he said to me, “they call her Miss Clara. The most extraordinary woman on earth. Although she's only twenty−eight years old, she's been all over the world already. Just now she lives in China. This is the fourth time I've seen her aboard.” “Rich?” “Oh, very rich! They tell me her father, who's been dead a long time, was an opium dealer in Canton. That's where she was born, in fact. She's a little cracked, I think, but charming.” “Married?” “No.” “And?” Into that conjunction I put a whole battalion of intimate and even impertinent questions. The captain smiled. “That I can't say. I don't think so. I've never noticed anything—here.” Such was the reply of the good mariner who, it + + +seemed to me, knew a good deal more about it than he wished to say. I did not insist, but I said to myself: “You, my girl... absolutely!” The first passengers with whom I became acquainted were two Chinese of the London Embassy and a Norman gentleman who was on his way to Tonkin. The latter was immediately quite willing to confide in me. He was an ardent hunter. “I'm running away from France,” he told me. “I escape every time I can. Since we've become a republic, France is a lost country. There are too many poachers, and they're the masters. Would you believe that I can't keep any game on my place any more! The poachers kill it for me, and the courts uphold them. It's a bit too much! Without counting the fact that the few they leave croak of God knows what epidemics. So I'm going to Tonkin. What a fine hunting−ground! It's the fourth time, my dear sir, that I'm going to Tonkin.” “Ah, really?” “Yes! In Tonkin every sort of game is abundant. But especially the peacock. What shooting, sir! Besides, it's a dangerous sport; you have to have an + + +eye for it.” “Doubtless these are ferocious peacocks?” “My God, no. But this is the way it is: Wherever there are deer, there are tigers... and wherever there are tigers, there are peacocks!” “An aphorism?” “You must understand me. Follow carefully... the tiger eats the deer, and—” “The peacock eats the tiger?” I gravely suggested. “Absolutely... that is to say... here is the thing. When the tiger is gorged with the deer, 'he falls asleep; then he awakes, relieves himself and goes away. What does the peacock do? Perched in the neighboring trees, he prudently awaits this departure, then he drops to earth and eats the tiger's dung. And that is the precise moment you must surprise him... “ And with his arms raised as though holding a rifle, he made the gesture of ,aiming at an imaginary peacock: “Ah, what peacocks! you haven't the least idea! For, what you take for peacocks in our aviaries and gardens, aren't even turkeys. They're nothing. My dear sir, I've killed all sorts of things. I've even killed + + +men. Well! never has the report of a rifle given me so keen an emotion as the times I've fire at peacocks. Peacocks, how can I tell you, sir... are magnificent to kill!” Then, after a silence, he concluded: “Travel—that's the thing! In traveling you see extraordinary things which make you think.” “Doubtless,” I agreed, “but one must be a great observer, like you.” “It's true! I've observed a great deal,” the good gentleman ostentatiously said. “Well, of all the countries I've traveled in—Japan, China; Madagascar, Haiti, and a section of Australia—I know none more entertaining than Tonkin. Now perhaps you think you've seen hens?” “Yes, I believe so—” “Your error, my dear sir, you have never seen hens. You have to go to Tonkin for that, and then you won't see them. They're in the forests, and they hide in the trees. You never see them. Only, I have a trick. I travel upstream in a sampan, with a cock in a cage. I stop at the edge of the forest and hang the cage at the end of a branch. The cock crows. Then from all the depths of the forest, the hens come... + + +and come. They come in unnumbered bands. And I kill them! I have killed as many as twelve hundred in the same day!” “It's remarkable!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. But not as much so as peacocks, however. Ah, the peacocks!” But this gentleman was not only a hunter; he was also a gambler. Long before we were in sight of Naples, the two Chinese, the peacock−killer and I had gotten up a fast game of poker. Thanks to my special knowledge of that game, when we arrived at Port Said, I had relieved these three incomparable gentlemen of their money and tripled the capital I was bearing toward the joys of the tropics, and the Unknown of fictitious embryology. + + +PART 6 + +At that time I would have been incapable of the meagerest poetical description—poetry having come to me afterwards, with love. To be sure, I enjoyed the beauties of nature, like everybody else, but they had never overwhelmed me to the point of ecstasy; I enjoyed them, in my way, which was that of a conservative republican. And I said to myself: “Nature, seen from a train window or the porthole of a ship, is always and everywhere herself; her principal characteristic being that she lacks the ability for improvisation. She repeats herself constantly, possessing but a small stock of forms, combinations and aspects, which are found here and there in almost identical arrangements. In her immense and clumsy monotony, she varies only in scarcely perceptible nuances, which are only interesting to trainers of little animals, which I am not—though an embryologist—and to splitters of hairs. Briefly, when you have traveled over a hundred square miles of countryside, no matter where, you have seen everything.” And that little swine Eugene had + + +exclaimed: “You'll see nature... trees... flowers!” As far as I'm concerned, trees get on my nerves, and I only tolerate flowers in the modiste's shops, and on hats. As for tropical nature—Monte Carlo would have been amply sufficient to my needs as an esthetic connoisseur of landscapes, and my dreams of distant travel. I understand palm trees, cocoanuts, bananas, mangroves, shaddock and pandanus, only if I can gather in their shade all sorts of pretty little women who munch between their lips something better than the betel−nut. Coconut tree: the cocotte−tree. I only like trees of this truly Parisian classification. Ah, what a deaf and blind brute I was then! How could I, with such nauseating cynicism, have blasphemed the infinite beauty of Form, which passes from man to beast, from beast to plant, from the plant to the mountain, the mountain to the cloud, and from the cloud to the pebble, which contains in reflection all the splendors of life! Although it was the month of October, the crossing of the Red Sea was excruciating. The heat + + +was crushing, and the air so heavy on our European lungs that many times I thought I would die of asphyxiation. During the day we scarcely left the saloon where the great Indian punka, constantly in motion, gave us the evanescent illusion of a fresh breeze; and we passed the nights on the deck where, however, it was no more possible for us to sleep than in our cabins. The Norman gentleman panted like an ailing bull, and thought no more of relating his stories of the hunting in Tonkin. The most boastful and intrepid of the passengers were the most completely knocked out... inert of limb and wheezing like foundered beasts. There was nothing more ridiculous than the sight of these people, prostrate in their variegated pajamas. Only the two Chinese seemed insensible to this flaming temperature; they had changed their behavior no more than their clothes, and spent their time in silent promenades on the deck or playing cards or dice in their cabins. We couldn't get interested in anything. Besides, nothing distracted us from the torture of feeling ourselves cooking slowly and steadily, like a stew. + + +The steamer was sailing across the gulf: above us, around us, there was nothing but the blue sky and the blue sea—a dark blue—the blue of heated metal here and there reflecting the glow of the forge upon its surface. We could scarcely make out the coasts of Somaliland—that red and distant mass shrouded by the vaporous heat of mountains of burning sand, where no tree or grass grew, and whose shores contained this sinister sea—an immense reservoir of bailing water—in a constantly seething cauldron. I might say that during this crossing I displayed great courage, and succeeded in concealing my actual state of suffering. I attained it through conceit and love. Chance—was it really chance, or the captain?—had given me Miss Clara for a table−mate. An incident at table brought about our almost immediate acquaintance. Besides, my high station and the curiosity of which I was the object, authorized certain lapses from the ordinary conventions of good breeding. As I had learned from the captain, Miss Clara was returning to China after dividing her entire + + +summer between England, for her business affairs, Germany for her health, and France for her amusements. She confessed to me that Europe disgusted her more and more. She could no longer endure its provincial customs, its ridiculous habits, and its skimpy landscapes. She only felt happy and free in China. She was of a very resolute demeanor, a very extraordinary mode of life, talked sometimes at random and sometimes with a lively feeling for things; of a feverish gaiety pushed to the bizarre, sentimental and philosophic, ignorant and educated, impure and frank and mysterious. Finally, she was given to strange lapses, flights of fancy, incomprehensible caprices and terrible desires, and intrigued me greatly although one must expect everything of an eccentric Englishwoman. And I never doubted from the start I who, in the matter of women, had only known—Parisian cocottes—and what is worse, female politicians and literati—I never doubted that I might easily have conquered this one, and I looked forward to enjoying my trip with her in an unexpected and charming manner. With her reddish hair and gleaming skin, a laugh always ready + + +to peal forth from her fleshy red lips, she was truly the delight of the ship and like its soul was en route towards mad adventures and the idyllic freedom of virgin countries and the fiery tropics. The Eve of that marvelous paradise—a flower herself—flower of intoxication and the tasty fruit of eternal desire, I could see her wander and skip about amid the flowers and golden fruits of the primordial orchards, no longer in this dress of white poplin, which molded her lithe form and filled out her bosom with pulsating life, like a bud, but in the supernatural splendor of her biblical nudity. I was not slow to recognize the error of my gallant diagnosis, and the fact that Miss Clara) contrary to what I had so egotistically predicted, was impregnably virtuous. Far from being frustrated by this discovery, she appeared all the prettier to me, and I conceived an actual pride in the fact that she, the pure and virtuous, accepted me—vile and debauched as I was—with such simple and gracious confidence. I did not want to listen to the inner voices which were crying; 'This woman lies. This woman is laughing at you. Look, idiot! at those eyes which + + +have seen everything; that mouth which has kissed everything; those hands which have caressed very thing; that flesh which has so often trembled with all the lusts, and in every possible embrace! Pure? Ha! And those knowing gestures? And that softness and suppleness, and those movements of the body which retain all the gestures of the caress? And that bust, swollen like the calyx of a flower drunk with pollen?' No, in truth, I did not listen to them. And for me it was a deliciously chaste sensation, compounded of tenderness, gratitude and pride—a sensation of moral rehabilitation, to enter further every day into an intimacy with a lovely and virtuous person, whom I decided at the beginning would never be anything to me—nothing but a soul! This idea elevated me and rehabilitated me in my own eyes. Thanks to this pure daily contact, I was gaining—yes, gaining self−respect. All the mire of my past was being transformed to luminous azure, and I glimpsed the future through the tranquil, limpid emerald of continual happiness. Oh, how far from me were Eugene Mortain, Mme. G—, and their like! How all those faces of grinning phantoms were melting by + + +the minute, more and more, beneath the celestial glance of this lustral creature through whom I was being revealed to myself as a new man, with generosity, tenderness, and impulses I would never have expected of myself. Oh, the ironical tenderness of love! Ah, the comic enthusiasms which lie within the human soul! Often, beside Clara, I believed in the reality and grandeur of my mission, and that I had in me the genius to revolutionize the embryology of the entire universe. One thing leading to another, we soon arrived at mutual confidences. By a series of cleverly calculated lies which, prompted on one hand by vanity and on the other by a quite natural desire not to lower myself in the mind of my friend, I displayed myself entirely to my advantage in my role of scientist, narrated my biological discoveries, my academic successes, and all the hopes which the most illustrious men of science placed in my theory and my trip. Then, abandoning these somewhat arduous heights, I mixed anecdotes of my social life with appreciations of literature and art, half−sound and half−perverse, enough to interest the mind of a + + +woman without disturbing it. And these light and frivolous conversations to which I forced myself to give a witty turn, endowed my grave scientific personality with a particular and perhaps unique character. I succeeded in conquering Miss Clara during that crossing of the Red Sea. Overcoming my discomfort, I was able to devise ingenious and delicate attentions which assuaged her own discomfort. When the Saghalien touched at Aden to take on coal, she and I were perfect friends—friends blessed by that miraculous friendship which is not troubled by a single glance, and whose lovely lucidity is not tarnished by an ambiguous gesture or a guilty design. Still, the voices in me kept crying: 'But look at those nostrils which breathe in all life with terrific lust. Look at those teeth which so often have bitten into the bleeding fruit of sin.' Heroically, I silenced them. It was a great joy when we entered the waters of the Indian Ocean; after the excruciating and torturing days on the Red Sea, it seemed like a resurrection. A new life, a life of gaiety and activity took possession of the ship, although the temperature was still very warm, the air was delicious to breathe, + + +like the scent of furs that a woman has just laid aside. A light breeze, apparently impregnated with all the perfumes of the tropical flora, refreshed the body and the mind. And all about us there was a dazzling brilliance. The sky, translucid as a fairy grotto, was of a green gold, streaked with rose; the calm sea, heaving with a powerful rhythm under the breath of the monsoon, lay before us extraordinarily blue, and mottled here and there by great emerald−green whorls. We actually felt the physical caress of the approach of magic continents, the lands of light where life, one mysterious day, had uttered its first infantile cries. And on all our faces, even the Norman gentleman's, there was a little of that sky, that sea, and that light. Miss Clara—it goes without saying—attracted and greatly excited the men; she was always surrounded by a court of passionate adulators. I was not at all jealous, being certain that she considered them all ridiculous, and that she preferred me to all the others, even to the two Chinese with whom she held frequent conversations, but whom she did not look at (as she did me) with that strange look in + + +which I seemed several times, and with great reluctance, to have discovered moral complicity and a secret meaning. Among the most fervent there was a French explorer who Was going to the Malay Peninsula to study its copper−mines, and an English officer whom we had taken on at Aden, and who was returning to his post at Bombay. They were, each in his own way, heavy but amusing brutes, whom Clara loved to make fun of. The explorer was ceaselessly talking about his recent trek across central Africa. As for the English officer, who was a captain in the artillery, he tried to dazzle Us by describing all his inventions in ballistics. One evening on deck, after dinner, we were all gathered about Clara, who was delightfully lounging in a rocking−chair. Some smoked cigarettes and others dreamed. All of us, at heart, had this same desire for Clara, and all, with the same dream of ardent possession, followed the play of her little feet clad in their small pink mules, which, with the rocking of the chair, extended from the perfumed calyx of her skirts, like the pistils of a flower. We said nothing. + + +The night was magically balmy and the ship glided voluptuously along on the sea, as though on silk. Clara addressed the explorer: “Well?” she said, in a malicious voice, “you're not joking? You've actually eaten human flesh?” “Yes, certainly!” he replied proudly, and in a tone which established his indisputable superiority over us. “We simply had to... you eat what you can get.” “What does it taste like?” she asked, slightly disgusted. He thought a moment. Then making a vague gesture: “My God!” he said, “how can I explain it? Imagine, adorable lady—imagine pork—pork pickled slightly in nutmeg oil.” Careless and resigned, he added: “It's not very good. Besides, you don't eat it out of gluttony. I prefer a leg of mutton, or a beefsteak.” “Obviously!” consented Clara. And, as though out of politeness she had wished to minimize the horror of this anthropology, she specified: “Because, undoubtedly, you only ate negro flesh!” “Negro!” he exclaimed with a start. “Ugh! Luckily, + + +dear lady, I was not driven to that harsh necessity. We never lacked for whites, thank God! Our escort was large, and composed chiefly of Europeans. Marseillais, Germans, Italians... a little of everything. When we were too hungry, we slaughtered one of the escort, preferably a German. The German, divine lady, is fatter than the other races, and he provides more. And then, for us other Frenchmen, it was one German less! The Italian is dry and tough—.full of sinews—” “And the Marseillais?” I interrupted. “Ugh!” declared the traveler, tossing his head. “The Marseillais is much too rich; he smells of garlic and also, I don't know why, of grease. I wouldn't say he was appetizing... no... he's edible, that's all.” Turning to Clara with gestures of protestation, he insisted: “But negro flesh—never! I think I would have thrown it up. I know people who have eaten it... they fell sick. The negro is indigestible. There are even some, I assure you, who are poisonous.” But, scrupulously, he corrected himself: “After all, you have to try him once—like + + +mushrooms, eh? Perhaps the Indian negroes allow themselves to be eaten?” “No!” affirmed the English officer in an abrupt and categorical tone that, in the midst of laughter, closed this culinary discussion which was beginning to turn my stomach. A little discountenanced, the explorer went on: “No matter... despite all these slight annoyances, I am very happy to have left again. In Europe I'm sick... I'm not alive... I don't know where to go. In Europe I feel degraded and imprisoned, like a beast in a cage. Impossible to find elbow−room, extend your arms or open your mouth, without bumping into stupid prejudices and idiotic laws... evil customs. Last year, charming lady, I was walking through a wheat field. I mowed down the blades around me with my cane... it amused me. Surely I have the right to do what pleases me, haven't I? A peasant ran up and started to shout, insult me, order me out of his field. It's unimaginable! What would you have done in my place? I dealt him three vigorous blows on the head with my cane. He fell with a fractured skull. Well, imagine what happened to me—” + + +“Perhaps you ate him—?” Clara laughingly suggested. “No. They dragged me before some judges or other, who sentenced: me to two months in prison and ten thousand francs fine and damages. For a damned peasant! And they call that civilization! Can you believe it! Well, much obliged—in Africa, if I had been sentenced like that every time I'd kill a negro, or even a white—” “Oh, you've also killed negroes?” said Clara. “Yes, certainly, adorable lady.” “Why—since you don't eat them?” “Well—to civilize them—that is to say, to take their stocks of ivory and resins. And then, what do you expect? If the governments and business houses who entrust colonizing expeditions to us learned that we hadn't killed anyone, what would they say?” “That's true!” agreed the Norman gentleman. “Besides, negroes are wild beasts.—. poachers... tigers. “Negroes? What a mistake, my dear sir. They are gentle and gay... they are like children. Have you ever seen rabbits playing in the meadow in the + + +evening, at the edge of the woods?” “Certainly!” “They make pretty, frolicsome movements; they shine their fur with their paws and bound about and roll in the mint−leaves. Well, negroes are like young rabbits... it's very charming!” “However, it is certain that they're cannibals?” persisted the gentleman. “Negroes!” protested the explorer. “Not at all! in all the black Countries the whites are the only cannibals. The negroes eat bananas and graze on new grass. I know a scientist who even contends that the negro has a stomach like the ruminants. How can you expect him to eat flesh, especially human flesh?” “Then why kill them?” I objected, for I suddenly felt kind and full of pity. “But I just told you... to civilize them. And it's lots of fun! When, after marching and marching, we arrived in a negro village, they were very frightened! They immediately uttered cries of distress and didn't try to escape—they were so scared—and lay on the ground weeping. We gave them whiskey, for we + + +always kept a large supply of alcohol in our baggage, and when they were drunk we slaughtered them!” “Bad sportsmanship!” resumed the Norman gentleman with some disgust, for he was doubtless thinking right then of the Tonkin forests, and seeing those marvelous flocks of peacocks flying back and forth. The night trailed brilliantly on; the sky was ablaze; about us the ocean was spread with great sheets of phosphorescent light. And I was sad, longing for Clara, bored with these gross men, bored with myself and our conversation which offended silence and beauty! Suddenly: “Do you know Stanley?” Clara asked the explorer. “Yes, certainly I know him,” he replied. “And what do you think of him?” “Oh, him!” he said, shaking his head. And as though his mind were a prey to frightful memories, he said, in a grave voice: “He goes a bit too far, just the same!” I felt that for some minutes past the captain had wanted to speak. He profited by the moment of + + +respite which followed this declaration: “I!” he said, “I've done much more than all that. And your little massacres are nothing beside those owing me. I have invented a bullet. It's extraordinary. I call it the Dum−Dum, after the name of the little Hindu village where I had the honor to invent it.” “It kills lots of people? More than the others?” Clara asked. “Oh, dear lady—how can you ask!” he said, laughing. “It's incalculable!” And modestly, however, he added: “However, that's nothing... it's very small! Imagine a little thing... how do you say?... a little nut, that's it! Imagine a very little nut! It's charming.” “And what a pretty name, captain!” said Clara. “Very pretty, in fact,” agreed the captain, obviously flattered, “very poetic!” “You'd say—wouldn't you—you'd say it was the name of a fairy in one of Shakespeare's comedies. The fairy Dum−Dum! It enchants me. A laughing, light and quite blond fairy, hopping, dancing and bounding about amid the heather and the sunbeams. And there you are... Dum−Dum!” + + +“And there you are!” the officer repeated. “absolutely! Besides, it works quite well, adorable lady... I think the most unique thing about it is that, with it, there aren't, so to speak, any more wounded.” “Ah!” “There are only dead men! That's why it's so really exquisite!” He turned to me, and with an accent of regret in which our mutual patriotism became one, he sighed: “Ah, if you had had it in France at the time of that frightful Commune! What a triumph!” Then, switching abruptly to another line of thought: “I sometimes wonder if it's not a tale out of Edgar Allen Poe or a dream of our Thomas de Quincy. But no, since I myself tested that admirable little Dum−Dum. Here is the story. I stood up twelve Hindus—” “Alive?” “Naturally! The Emperor of Germany is the one who tries his ballistic experiments on corpses. Confess it's absurd and quite inconclusive. I work with people—not only living, but of robust constitution and in perfect health. At least you can + + +see what you're doing, and where you're going. I am no dreamer. I'm a scientist.” “A thousand pardons, captain! Go right on!” “Well, I had twelve Hindus stood up, one behind the other, in a geometrically straight line... and fired.” “Well?” Clara interrupted. “Well, my charming friend, this little Dum−Dum did marvels. Of the twelve Hindus, not one remained standing! The bullet had gone through their twelve bodies which, after the shot, were only twelve heaps of mangled flesh and bones literally ground to dust. Magic—absolute magic! And I'd never dreamed of such an admirable result.” “Admirable indeed, and smacking of the prodigious.” “Doesn't it?” And, thoughtfully, after some seconds of a stirring silence: “I am looking,” he murmured confidentially, “I am looking for something better... something more final. I am looking for a bullet, a little bullet which will annihilate what it hits, leaving nothing... nothing—nothing! Do you understand?” “How is that? What do you mean, nothing?” + + +“Oh, very little then!” explained the officer; “scarcely a heap of ashes, or even a light reddish smoke which will immediately vanish. It's possible.” “Automatic incineration, then?” “Absolutely! Have you considered the innumerable advantages of such an invention? In this way I eliminate army surgeons, nurses, ambulances, military hospitals, pensions for the wounded, etc. It would constitute an incalculable economy, a lightening of governmental budgets, not to mention hygiene! What a conquest for hygiene!” “And you might call that the Nib—Nibbulled?” I exclaimed. “Very pretty, very pretty!” applauded the artilleryman who, although he had not at all understood this slangy interruption, started to laugh uproariously, with that honest and frank laugh characteristic of soldiers of all ranks and all nations. When he had calmed down: “I foresee,” he said, “that when France comes to know about this splendid device she will abuse us again in all her newspapers. And it will be the fiercest of your patriots, the very men who shout loudly that + + +not enough millions are ever spent for war, and who only talk of killing and bombardment—it will be those who will once more make England the target for the execration of civilized races. But damn it all! we aren't logical in our state of universal barbarity. What! they admit that shells are explosive, and they don't want bullets to be! Why not? We live under the laws of war. Well, what constitutes war? It consists of massacring as many men as you can in the least possible time. In order to make It more and more murderous and expeditious, you have to find more and more formidable engines of destruction. It makes for humaneness, and also modern progress. “But captain,” I objected, “what about peoples rights? What do you think of that?” The officer sneered; and lifting his arms to the sky: “People's rights!” he replied, “it's merely the right we possess to massacre people en masse or singly, with shells or bullets—it doesn't matter—provided that people are duly massacred!” One of the Chinese interposed: “We are not savages, however!” he said. + + +“Not savages? and what else are we, I ask you? We are worse savages than the Australian bushmen, since, possessing the knowledge of our savagery, we persist in it. And since it's by war—that is to say theft, pillage and massacre—that we learn to govern, carryon commerce, arbitrate our differences, avenge our honor... Well! We have only to bear with the inconveniences of this state of brutality in which we nevertheless desire to remain. We are brutes—agreed! Let's act like brutes!” Then, in a gentle and profound voice, Clara said: “Besides, it would be a sacrilege to fight against death. Death is so beautiful!” She arose, white and mysterious beneath the electric deck light. The fine long silk shawl which enveloped her, wrapped her in pale and shifting reflections. “Till tomorrow!” she said. All of us stood around her, assiduously attentive. The officer had taken her hand, and kissed it, and I detested his masculine face, his supple loins, his taut limbs and his forceful demeanor. He apologized to his audience: “Forgive me,” he said, “for having allowed myself + + +to be carried away by such a subject, and for having forgotten that in the presence of a woman such as you, one should never talk of anything but love.” Clara replied: “But captain, when you speak of death, you also speak of love!” She took my arm, and I escorted her to her cabin where her women were waiting to prepare her for bed. The entire evening I was haunted by massacre and destruction. My sleep was quite feverish that night. Capering about over the red heather and amid the rays of a bloody sun, I saw the blond, laughing and leaping little fairy, Dum−Dum... the little fairy, Dum−Dum, which had the eyes, the mouth and all the unknown and unveiled flesh of Clara. + + +PART 7 + +One time my friend and I were leaning side by side against the rail, and looking at the sea and the sky. The day would soon be done. In the sky, great birds—blue kingfishers—were following the ship, balancing themselves with the exquisite movements of a ballerina; on the sea, schools of flying−fish rose at our approach and, gleaming in the sun, dove in farther off to reappear immediately, scudding over the water which was blue as brilliant turquoise that day. Then schools of jellyfish, red jellyfish, green jellyfish, purple, rose and mauve, floated like heaps of flowers on the soft surface, and their colors were so magnificent that every moment Clara uttered cries of admiration as she pointed them out to me. Then, suddenly, she asked: “Tell me. What is the name of these marvelous creatures?” I might have improvised bizarre names or sought scientific nomenclature. I did not even attempt it. Moved by an immediate, spontaneous and violent need of frankness: + + +“I don't know!” I firmly replied. I felt I was lost, that I was also losing this vague and charming dream which had cradled my hopes and soothed my anxieties—irrevocably losing it; that I was going to fall back even deeper than ever into the inevitable mire of my life as a pariah. I felt all this. But there was something stronger than all that in me, which commanded me to wash myself of all my impostures, all my lies; all this veritable abuse of confidence, by which I had fraudulently achieved, in a cowardly and criminal fashion, the friendship of a person who had had faith in my words. “No, really, I don't know!” I repeated, giving to this simple negation a quality of dramatic exaltation of which it did not admit. “How strangely you say that! Are you crazy? What's the matter with you?” said Clara, astonished at the sound of my voice and the strange incoherence of my gestures. “I don't know... I don't know... I don't know!” And to add more force of conviction to that triple 'I don't know!' I violently struck the rail three times. “What, you don't know? A scientist... a + + +naturalist?” “I am not a scientist, Miss Clara, I am not a naturalist—I am nothing,” I cried. “A wretch, yes... I am a wretch! I've lied to you, shamefully lied. You must know the sort of man I am. Listen to me...” Panting, agitated, I related my life: Eugene Mortain, Mme. G—, the imposture of my mission, all my filth, all my mire. I took an atrocious delight in accusing myself, making myself viler, more of an outcast and still blacker than I was. When I had finished this distressing tale, I said to my friend, in a flood of tears: “Now it's all over! You will detest me, despise me, like the others, you will turn away from me with disgust. And you will be right, and I won't complain. It's frightful! But I can't live like this any longer. I want no more lies between us.” I wept copiously, and I stuttered incoherent words, like a child. “It's horrible! It's horrible! and I who... for after all... it's true, I swear to you! I who... you understand. A whirlpool, that's it... a whirlpool. I was caught in a whirlpool. I didn't know it. And then your soul... ah, your soul!... your gentle soul... your pure glances... + + +and your... your dear... yes, after all... you know it well... your dear welcome, it was my salvation... my redemption... my... my. It's horrible... it's horrible! I'm losing all that! It's horrible!” While I was talking and weeping Miss Clara looked at me attentively. Oh, that look! Never—no never, shall I forget the glance that adorable woman fixed upon me—an extraordinary glance, which held at the same time astonishment, joy, pity, and love—yes, love—and malice too, and irony... and everything. A glance which entered into me, penetrated me, probed me and overwhelmed my soul and my flesh. “Well,” she said simply, “that doesn't astonish me very much. And I honestly believe all scientists are like you.” Without taking her eyes off me, she gave her clear and pretty laugh—a laugh like the song of a bird: “I knew one of them,” she went on. “He was a naturalist... of your type. He had been sent by the British government to study the coffee−parasite on the plantations in Ceylon. Well, for three months, he + + +did not leave Colombo. He spent his time playing poker and getting drunk on champagne.” Still looking at me with a strange, profound and voluptuous look—always focused on me—after some seconds of silence she added, in a tone of commiseration in which it seemed to me I heard all the exultation of forgiveness: “Oh the little swine!” I no longer knew what to say, or whether to laugh or weep again, or whether to kneel at her feet. Timidly, I mumbled: “Then... you're not angry with me? You don't despise me? You forgive me?” “Silly!” she said. “Oh, the little fool!” “Clara! Clara! Is it possible?” I cried, almost fainting for joy. As the dinner−bell had long since rung and there was no longer anyone on that part of the deck, I came closer to Clara, so close that I could feel her loins trembling against me, and her heart beating. And seizing her hands, which she left in mine, while my heart rose tempestuously in me, I cried: “Clara! Clara! do you love me? Ah, I beg you! Do + + +you love me?” She replied feebly: “I'll tell you that, this evening... in my cabin!” In her eyes I saw the flicker of a green flame, a terrible flame which terrified me. She withdrew her hands from my grasp, a heavy line suddenly crossed her forehead, and with her head bowed, she was silent and looked at the sea. What was she thinking about? I could tell nothing. And, looking out to sea myself, I thought: While I was an honorable man in her eyes, she did not love me. But the minute she understood what I was, when she breathed the true and foul odor of my soul, love was born in her—for she does love me! Well, well! There is nothing real, then, except evil! Evening had come; then, without any twilight, it was night. An ineffable sweetness floated in the air. The ship sailed through boiling phosphorescent foam. Great lights skimmed over the sea. You'd have thought the fairies were rising from the sea, trailing long fiery mantles on the surface, and shaking and hurling great handfuls of golden pearls into the water. + + +PART 8 + +One morning, coming out on deck, I could make out, thanks to the transparence of the atmosphere, and as clearly as though I were treading its soil, the enchanted island of Ceylon; that green and red island crowned by the fairylike rosy whiteness of Adam's Peak. We had already been warned of its approach the evening before by the new perfumes of the sea and a mysterious invasion of butterflies which, after accompanying the ship for a few hours, suddenly disappeared. And without desiring anything more, both Clara and I found it exquisite that the island had extended us a welcome through the medium of these dazzling and poetic messengers. I had then reached such a point of sentimental poeticism that the mere sight of a butterfly made all the strings of tenderness and ecstasy vibrate in my breast. But that morning the actual sight of Ceylon caused me great anguish—and more than anguish—terror. What I caught a glimpse of over there beyond the waves, which were then the color + + +of forget−me−not, was not a territory, not a port, nor the burning curiosity of everything that stirs the ultimately lifted veil of the unknown in man. It was the brutal summons to evil life, the return to my forsaken instincts, the bitter and desolating reawakening of all which, during the crossing, had slumbered in me, and which I had thought dead! It was something more distressing, of which I had never dreamed, and which it was impossible for me not only to understand, but even conceive of its possible reality: the end of the prodigious dream which Clara's love had been for me. For the first time, a woman held me. I was her slave; I desired none but her; I wanted none but her. Nothing any longer existed outside or beyond her. Instead of extinguishing the fire of my love, every day possession fanned its flame. I descended further into the burning gulf of her desire each time, and every day I realized more strongly that my entire life would be exhausted seeking to reach its bottom! How could I accept the fact that, after having been conquered—soul, body and brain—by this irrevocable, indissoluble and martyrizing love, I + + +would have to immediately give it up? Madness! This love was a part of me, like my own flesh; it had taken the place of my blood and marrow; it possessed me entirely; it was I! To separate me from it meant to separate me from myself; it meant to kill me. Worse still! It meant the extravagant nightmare that my head was in Ceylon, my feet in China, separated by abysses of ocean, and that I would continue to live in these two stumps which could never be reunited! That the very next day I would no longer possess those swooning eyes, those devouring lips, the nightly renewed miracle of that body with its divine contours and savage embraces; and, after long spasms as powerful as sin and as deep as death, that naive stammering, those little laughs, those little tears, those languid little songs of a child or a bird—was it possible! And I would lose all that was more necessary for breathing than my lungs; more necessary for thinking than my brain; more necessary for nourishing my veins with warm blood than my heart! Impossible! I belonged to Clara like the coal belongs to the fire which devours and consumes it. Both to her and me, a separation had + + +seemed so inconceivable and so insanely fantastic, so totally contrary to the laws of nature and life, that we had never spoken of it. The evening before, our communing hearts had thought of nothing—and without even mentioning it—but the eternity of the voyage, as though the ship which bore us on might carry us thus forever, and never, never arrive anywhere. For to arrive somewhere means to die! Yet, here I was about to get off, plunge into that green and that red, disappear over there in that unknown... more frightfully alone than ever! And here was Clara, soon to be no more than a phantom, then a little grey speck scarcely visible in space... then nothing... nothing... nothing! Ah, anything rather than that! Ah, let the sea engulf us both. The sea was gentle, calm and radiant. It exhaled the perfumes of a Utopian shore, a blossoming orchard and a bed of love, which made me weep. The deck was thronged; nothing but happy faces, eyes strained by waiting and curiosity: “We're entering the bay... we're in the bay!” “I see the shore.” “I see the trees.” + + +“I see the lighthouse.” “We're here... we're here!” Each of these exclamations fell heavily on my heart. I no longer wanted before me the sight of this island, still distant but so implacably clear—which every turn of the screw brought nearer to me, and turning from it, I gazed at the infinity of the sky into which I prayed I might disappear, like those birds over there, so high, which flew for a moment through the air and disappeared so easily. Clara hastened to join me. Was it from having loved too much? Was it from having wept too long? For her eyelids were darkened, and her eyes with their dark blue rings expressed more than sadness: there was actually an ardent pity in them, both belligerent and commiserative. Beneath her heavy golden−brown hair, her forehead was crossed by a line of shadow; that line which was there in desire, as well as in pain. A strangely intoxicating perfume emanated from her hair. She said to me, simply, this single word: “Already?” “Alas!” I sighed. + + +She finished adjusting her hat, a little sailor−hat which she fastened with a long gold pin. Her raised arms made her breasts stand out, and I could see their sculptural curves outlined beneath the white blouse which enveloped them. She continued in a voice which trembled slightly: “Had you thought about it?” “No!” Clara bit her lips. “And then?” she said. I did not answer. I had not the strength to answer. My head empty, my heart torn, I should have liked to slip into oblivion. She was moved, very pale, except her mouth which seemed redder, and heavy with kisses. For a long time her eyes questioned me with great intensity. “The ship touches at Colombo two days. Then it leaves again. Did you know it? “Yes! yes!” “And then?” “And then... it's over!” “Can I do something for you?” “Nothing... thanks! for it's all over!” + + +And stifling my sobs in my throat, I stuttered: “You've been everything to me. You've been more than everything to me! Don't speak to me any more, I beg you! It's too distressing... too uselessly distressing. Don't speak to me any more... for now, everything is over!” “Nothing is ever over,” proclaimed Clara; “nothing, not even death!” A bell rang. Ah, that bell! How it tolled in my heart! How it tolled the death−knell of my heart! The passengers crowded on the deck, shouting, exclaiming, questioning each other, leveling lorgnettes opera−glasses and cameras at the approaching island. The Norman gentleman, pointing out the masses of foliage, was describing the jungles impenetrable to the hunter. And amid the tumult and jostling, indifferent and reflective, their hands crossed in their wide sleeves, the two Chinese continued their slow, grave, daily promenade, like two priests reciting their breviaries. “We're here!” “Hurrah! hurrah! We're here!” “I see the city.'” + + +“Is that the city?'” “No! that's a coral ledge...” “I can make out the wharf...” “No! No!” “What's that coming, out there on the sea?” Already, in the distance, a little flotilla of barks with their pink sails was coming out to the steamer. The two smokestacks, belching clouds of black smoke, covered the sea with a mourning−pall, and the siren moaned forever... forever. No one paid any attention to us. Clara asked me, in a tone of imperious tenderness: “Well! what's to become of you?” “I don't know! And what difference does it make? I was lost... I met you. You have held me from the brink of the abyss for a few days. Now I'll fall back into it. It was inevitable!” “Why inevitable? You're a child! And you have no confidence in me. Do you really think it was by chance you met me?” After a long silence, she added: “It's so simple! I have powerful friends in China. They could undoubtedly do a lot for you! Would you + + +like—” I did not give her time to finish: “No, not that!” I begged, resisting feebly. “Anyway—above all, not that! I understand you... Don't say any more.” “You're a child,” Clara repeated, “and talk like they do in Europe, darling. And you have stupid scruples, like in Europe. In China life is free, joyous, complete, unconventional, unprejudiced, lawless... at least for us. No other limits to liberty than yourself... or to love, than the triumphant variety of your desire. Europe and its hypocritical, barbaric civilization is a lie. What else do you do there except lie—lie to yourself and others, lie about everything you recognize in your heart to be true? You're obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemn, and know lack all foundation. It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced. In that intolerable conflict you lose all + + +joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers. That's the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world. With us, there's nothing like it... you'll see! In Canton I own a palace amid marvelous gardens, where everything is conducive to a free life, and to love. What are you afraid of? What are you leaving behind? Who cares about you! When you don't love me any more, or when you are too unhappy... you go away. “Clara! Clara!” I implored. She stamped sharply on the deck of the ship: “You don't know me yet,” she said, “you don't know what I am, and you want to leave me already! Do I frighten you? Are you a coward?” “I could not live without you! Without you, I could only die!” “Well, stop trembling... and stop weeping... and come with me!” A light flashed in her green pupils, and in a low, almost raucous voice, she said: “I'll teach you terrible things... divine things... you'll know at last what love really is! I promise you'll descend with me to the very depths of the mystery of + + +love... and death!” And smiling an evil smile which made a shiver run through my bones, she said again: “Poor baby! You thought yourself a great debauchee... a great rebel! Ah! your little remorse... do you remember! And now your soul is as timid as a little child's!” It was true! I had vainly boasted of being an uncompromising swine, thought myself superior to moral prejudices. I still occasionally heard the voice of duty and honor which, at certain moments of nervous depression, rose from the troubled depths of my conscience. Whose honor? what duty? What a sink of madness is man's mind! In what way would my honor—my honor!—be compromised, in what way would I shirk my duty if I continued my voyage all the way to China, instead of rotting away in Ceylon? Had I actually crawled far enough into the skin of a scientist to imagine that I was going to 'study the pelagic ooze,' or discover 'the cell,' by plunging into the gulfs of the Singhalese coast? This quite grotesque idea, that I had taken my embryological mission seriously, quickly led me back + + +to the reality of my situation. What! fate or a miracle had willed it that I meet a woman, divinely beautiful, rich, exceptional, and whom I loved and who loved me, and who offered me an extraordinary life, joy in abundance, unique sensations, libertine adventures, luxurious protection... salvation after all... and more than salvation—bliss! And I was going to let it all slip through my fingers! Once more the demon of perversity, that stupid demon to whom lowed all my unhappiness—because I had so stupidly obeyed him—intervened again and advised me hypocritically to resist an un−hoped−for adventure, a fairy−tale come to life, which would never be encountered again and which I ardently desired from the bottom of my heart, and which had actually materialized. No... no! It was too stupid, after all! “You're right,” I said to Clara, ascribing solely to my defeat in love a submission which also included all my instincts of laziness and debauchery; you're right; I wouldn't be worthy of your eyes, your mouth and your heart... of all that paradise and that hell which is YOU, if I hesitated any longer. And then, I could not... I could not lose you. I can conceive of + + +everything but that. You are right, I belong to you; lead me where you wish. To suffer... to die... it makes no difference! since you—whom I still do not know—are my fate!” “Oh, baby! baby! baby!” said Clara in a singular tone whose true expression I could not unravel—whether it was joy, irony or pity! Then, almost maternally, she admonished me: “Now, don't worry about anything. Try to be happy. Stay here... look at the marvelous island. I'm going to arrange with the commissioner for your new status on board.” “Clara.” “Don't be afraid. I know what to say.” And as I was about to object: “Shush! Aren't you my baby, darling? You must obey. And then, you don't know... “ And she disappeared into the crowd of passengers huddled on deck, many of whom were already carrying their yalises and their lighter baggage. It had been decided that Clara and I would spend the two days in port at Colombo visiting the city and the suburbs, where my friend had stayed and which + + +she knew thoroughly. The heat there was torrid, so torrid that the coolest places—by comparison—in this atrocious land (where the scientists have located the earthly paradise), such as the gardens on the banks of the strand, seemed to me to be stifling steam rooms. The majority of our traveling−companions did not dare to risk this fiery temperature, which stripped them of the slightest desire to go out and the vaguest desire to move. I can still see them, ridiculous and moaning in the lobby of the hotel, wrapped in moistened and steaming napkins—elegant apparel renewed every quarter of an hour—which transformed the noblest part of their person into a chimney−pipe, crowned with its plume of steam. Slumped into rocking−chairs under the punka, their brains atrophied, their lungs congested, they drank iced drinks prepared for them by the boys who, by the color of their skin and the structure of their bodies, recalled the naive gingerbread men of our Parisian fairs; while other boys of the same hue and the same build kept the mosquitoes away from them by great sweeps of a fan. As for me, I recovered—perhaps a bit too + + +soon—all my gaiety and all my sprightly wit. My scruples had vanished; I no longer felt in a poetical mood. Relieved of my anxiety about the future, I once more became the man I was when I left Marseille; the stupid and critical Parisian, 'who can't be fooled'; the boulevardier who won't listen to nonsense, and who knows all about nature... even the tropics! To me Colombo seemed a boring and ridiculous city, unpicturesque and lacking in mystery. It was half Protestant, half Buddhist, besotted as a bronze and sullen as a pastor, and with what joy I congratulated myself on having miraculously escaped the profound boredom of its streets, its dead sky and its coarse vegetation. And I made jokes about the cocoanut trees, which I did not fail to compare to frightful plucked feather−dusters, as well as about the great plants which I accused of having been cut out of painted sheet−iron and polished zinc, by malicious workmen. Walking on Slave Island, which is the Bois of the place, or in Pettah, which is its Mouffetard quarter, we only encountered horrible Englishwomen out of an operetta, togged out as + + +though for a carnival, in light costumes, half−European and half Hindu; and Singhalese still more horrible than the Englishwomen, old at twelve years, wrinkled as prunes, twisted as aged vine−stalks, caved in like ruined straw huts, with gums like bleeding wounds, lips burned by the areca−nut and teeth the color of an old pipe. I sought in vain for the voluptuous women, the negresses with their wise love−techniques, the pert little lace makers of whom that liar Eugene Mortain had spoken, with their eyes so significantly provocative. And with all my heart I pitied the poor scientists they sent here, with their problematic mission of discovering the secret of life. But I realized Clara had no taste for these facile and Coarse jokes, and I found it prudent to attenuate them, not wishing to wound her either in her fervent cult or nature, or shrink in her estimation. On several occasions I had noticed that she listened to me with painful astonishment. “Why are you so gay?” She said to me, “I don't like people to be gay like that, darling. It hurts me. When you're gay it's because you're not in love. Love + + +is serious, sad and profound.” Which, however, did not prevent her from bursting into laughter apropos of anything or nothing. In this way she encouraged me greatly in a deception which I concocted, and which was this: Among the letters of recommendation I had brought from Paris, there was one to a certain Sir Oscar Terwick who, aside from his other scientific titles, was the president of the Association of Tropical Embryology and British Entomology at Colombo. At the hotel where I sought information, I learned, in fact, that Sir Oscar Terwick was quite a personage, the author of renowned works, and, in a word, a very great scientist. I decided to go to see him. Such a visit could no longer be dangerous to me, and besides, I was not sorry to know and make contact with an actual embryologist. He lived far off in a suburb called Kolpetty, which was, so to speak, the Passy of Colombo. There, in the midst of luxurious gardens, graced by the inevitable cocoanut tree, in spacious and bizarre villas, the rich merchants and notable officials of the city lived. Clara desired to accompany me. She waited for me + + +in the carriage not far from the savant's house, in a sort of little square shaded by immense teakwood trees. Sir Oscar Terwick received me politely—nothing more. He was a very tall man, very slender, very dry, very red in the face, and his white beard fell to his navel and was cut squarely like a pony's tail. He wore great trousers of yellow silk, and his hairy torso was wrapped in a sort of shawl of light wool. He gravely read the letter I handed him and, after having examined me out of the corner of his eye with a suspicious air—was he suspicious of me or of himself?—he asked me: “You... are... embryologist?” I nodded my head in assent. “All right!” he clucked. And making the gesture of trailing a net in the sea, he went on: “You... are... embryologist? Yes... You... You... comme ca... dans Ie mer... fish... fish... little fish?” “Little fish... absolutely... little fish,” I insisted, repeating the imitative gesture of the scientist. “Dans Ie mer?” “Yes!... yes.” + + +Tres interessant!... tres joli... tres curious! Yes.” Jabbering like this—and both of us continuing to drag our fanciful nets 'in the sea'—the noted scientist led me to a bamboo console on which three plaster busts were standing, crowned with artificial lotus. Indicating them respectively with his thumb, he presented them to me in so comically serious a tone I almost burst out laughing. “Master Darwin—very great—naturalist... very, very... great!... Yes!” I made a deep bow. “Master Haeckel... ires grand naturaliste... Not as great as he, no!... Mais tres grand! Master Haeckel ici... comme ca... lui... dans Ie mer... little fish.” I bowed again. And he exclaimed in a louder voice, laying his whole hand, red as a crab, upon the third bust: “Master Coqueline! Tres grand naturaliste... du miouseum... comment appelez?... du miouseum. Grevin—Yes!—Grevin! Tres joli—tres curious!” “Very interesting!” I agreed. “Yes!” After which he dismissed me. + + +I gave Clara a detailed and acted version of this interview. She laughed like a mad woman. “Oh baby!... baby... baby... how funny you are, you little devil!” This was the sole scientific episode of my mission. And I appreciated then what embryology was! The next morning, after a savage night of love, we put to sea again en route to China. +THE GARDEN +PART 1 + +“Why haven't you spoken to me yet about our dear Annie? Haven't you told her about my arrival? Won't she come today? Is she still as beautiful as ever?” What! Don't you know, darling? Annie is dead.” “Dead!” I exclaimed. “It's not possible. You're teasing me.” I looked at Clara. Divinely calm and pretty, naked in a transparent tunic of yellow silk, she was languidly stretched out on a tiger skin. Her head lay among the cushions, and with her hands, loaded with rings, she played with a long wisp of her flowing hair. A Laos dog with red hair slept beside her, its muzzle resting on her thigh and a paw upon her breast. “What?” Clara went on, “didn't you know? Why, that's funny!” All smiles, and stretching like a supple animal, she explained to me: “It was horrible, my dear! Annie died... died of that frightful scourge called elephantiasis... for everything here is frightful... love... disease... and the + + +flowers! Never have I wept so much, I assure you. I loved her so much—so much! And she was so beautiful!” She added, with a long and charming sigh: “Never again will we know the bitter taste of her kisses! It's a great misfortune!” “Then it's really true!” I stammered. “But how did it happen?” “I don't know. There are so many mysteries here, so many things that can't be understood. Both of us often used to go out on the river in the evening. I must tell you that there was a bayadere from Benares, in a flower—boat... a bewitching creature, my dear, whom the priests had taught certain cursed rites of the ancient Brahman cults. Perhaps it was that... or something else. One night when we were returning from the river, Annie complained of violent pains in the head and loins, and the next day her body was all covered with little purple spots. Her skin, rosier and finer than the althea flower, was hardening—thickening, swelling, and became an ashy grey. Great tumors and monstrous tubercles arose. It was something frightful. And the disease + + +which at first had attacked her legs, reached her thighs, her abdomen, her breasts, her face. Oh, her face, her face! Imagine an enormous pouch, a disgusting sack, all grey and striated with brown blood, and which hung and swayed with the least movement she made. Her eyes—her eyes, my darling! You could see no more of them than tiny, reddish, oozing holes. I still wonder if it's possible!” She twined the golden lock of her hair about her fingers. In his sleep the dog's paw had slipped along her silk tunic, entirely uncovering the globe of her breast, whose nipple arose, pink as a young flower. “Yes, I still wonder sometimes whether I'm not dreaming,” she said. “Clara... Clara!” I implored, aghast with horror, “don't tell me any more. I'd like the image of our divine Annie to remain intact in my memory. What can I do now to dispel this nightmare? Ah, Clara! don't say any more; or talk to me about Annie when she was so beautiful... when she was too beautiful!” Clara did not listen to me, but continued: “Annie isolated herself... shut herself up in her house, alone with a Chinese housekeeper who took + + +care of her. She had sent all her women away, and no longer wanted to see anyone... not even me. She summoned the cleverest practitioners of England. In vain, you may be Sure. The most celebrated sorcerers of Tibet—those who know the magic words and resuscitate the dead declared themselves powerless. You never recover from that disease; but you never die of it. It's frightful! “Then she killed herself. A few drops of poison, and that was the end of the most beautiful of women.” Terror sealed my lips. I looked at Clara, unable to utter a single word. “I learned from that Chinese woman,” Clara continued, “a really curious detail, which fascinated me. You know how much Annie loved pearls. She owned some incomparable specimens... the most marvelous, I believe, that ever existed. You also remember the almost physical joy, the carnal ecstasy, with which she adorned herself with them. Well, when she was sick that passion became a mania with her... a fury, like love! All day long she loved to touch them, caress them and kiss them j she made cushions of them, necklaces, capes, + + +cloaks. Then this extraordinary thing happened; the pearls died on her skin: first they tarnished, little by little... little by little they grew dim, and no light was reflected in their luster any more and, in a few days, tainted by the disease, they changed into tiny balls of ash. They were dead, dead like people, my darling. Did you know that pearls had souls? I think it's fascinating and delicious. And since then, I think of it every day.” After a short silence, she went on: “And that's not all! Annie often expressed the desire to be carried to the little Parsee cemetery when she died—over there, on the hill of the Blue Dog. She wanted her body to be torn to pieces by the beaks of vultures. You know what strange and violent ideas she had on all subjects? Well, the vultures refused this royal feast she offered them. They flew away from her corpse, uttering frightful cries. We had to cremate her. It was awful!” “But why didn't you write me all that?” I reproached Clara. With slow and charming gestures, Clara smoothed the red—gold of her hair and caressed the red fur of the dog, which had awakened, and she + + +said carelessly: “Really? Didn't I write you anything about that? Are you sure? Doubtless I'd forgotten. Poor Annie!” Again she spoke: Since that great misfortune, everything here bores me. I am too lonely. I would like to die... to die... I too. Ah, I assure you! And if you hadn't come back, I honestly believe I would be dead already.” She laid her head back on the cushions, bared her breast still more, and with a smile... the strange smile of both a child and a harlot: “Do my breasts still please you? Do you still think me beautiful? Then why were you gone so... so long? Yes... yes... I know... don't say anything more, don't answer... I know. You are a little fool, my darling!” I would have greatly liked to weep; but I couldn't. I would have greatly liked to speak again, but again I was unable. And we were in the garden, under the gilded kiosk, where the glycines hung in clusters, white clusters; and We finished having tea. Sparkling scarabees swarmed among the leaves, cetonia + + +beetles buzzed and died in the swooning hearts of the roses, and through the open door on the northern side, rising from the pool around which in the soft, mauve shadows, storks were sleeping, we could see the long stems of yellow irises, streaked with purple. Suddenly Clara asked me: “Would you like us to go and feed the Chinese Convicts? It's very curious... very amusing. It's really the only original and fashionable diversion we have here, in this God−forsaken corner of China. Would you like to, darling?” I felt fatigue, my head was heavy, all my being racked by the fever of that frightful climate. Besides, the story of Annie's death had overwhelmed my spirit. And the heat, moreover, was deadly as poison. “I don't know what you asked me, Clara dear, but I haven't recovered from that long trip across plains and plains... forests and forests. And that sun! I fear it more than death! Besides, I wanted so much to be alone with you, and you with me... today.” “That's right! If we were in Europe, and I'd asked you to accompany me to the races or the theatre, you wouldn't have hesitated. But it's so much nicer + + +than the races.” “Be kind! Tomorrow, if you like?” “Oh, tomorrow!” replied Clara, with an expression of surprise and her air of gentle reproach. “Always tomorrow! Don't you know that it's impossible tomorrow? Tomorrow—why it's strictly forbidden. The doors of the bagnio are closed, even to me. You can only feed the convicts on Wednesday; how is it you didn't know? If we miss this visit today, we'll have to wait a whole long week. How boring it would be! A whole week, think of it! Come, darling booby. Oh, come! I beg you. You could at least do that much for me. She lifted herself up on the cushions. The gaping tunic revealed patches of her ardent rosy flesh below the waist, amid the clouds of the silk. From a gold bonbon dish on a lacquer platter she took a quinine pellet with the tips of her fingers, and commanding me to approach, she put it gently between my lips. “You'll see how exciting it is... so exciting! You have no idea, darling. And how much more I'll love you tonight. How madly I'll love you tonight! Swallow, darling... swallow!” + + +Somber lights gleamed in her eyes, and as I was still sad and hesitant, to overcome my last objections, she said: “Listen! I've seen robbers hung in England; I've seen bullfights, and anarchists garroted in Spain. In Russia I've seen beautiful young girls whipped to death by soldiers. In Italy I've seen living phantoms—spectres of famine—disinter the bodies of cholera victims and eat them eagerly. I've seen thousands of souls beside a stream in India, stark naked, writhing and dying of the plague. In Berlin one evening I saw a woman I had loved the night before—a splendid creature in pink tights—I saw her devoured by a lion in a cage. All the horrors, all the human tortures—I have seen them. It was very lovely! But I've seen nothing lovelier... you understand?... than the Chinese convicts. It's lovelier than everything! You can't possibly know. I tell you, you can't possibly know. Annie and I never missed a Wednesday. Come, I beg you!” “Since it's so lovely, my dear Clara, and it gives you so much pleasure,” I answered sadly, “let's go and feed the convicts.” + + +“Really, you want to?” Clara expressed her delight, clapping her hands like a baby whose governess has just given it permission to torture a little dog. Then she jumped up on my knees, affectionate and feline, and threw her bare arms around my neck... and her hair smothered me, blinded my face with golden flames and intoxicating perfumes. “How nice you are... dear... dear darling. Kiss my lips... kiss my neck... kiss my hair... dear little devil!” Her hair possessed so powerful an animal odor and was so electrically stimulating, that its mere contact with my skin instantaneously made me forget fever, fatigue and pain... and I immediately felt heroic ardor and new strength flowing and surging through my veins. “Oh, what fun we'll have, sweetheart. When I go to see the convicts, it makes me dizzy, and thrills run through my entire body, like thrills of passion. It seems to me, you see... it seems to me that I'm sinking to the depths of my being... to the very deepest recesses of my being. Your mouth... give me your mouth... your mouth... your mouth!” Then + + +nimbly, quickly joyful and shameless, followed by the bounding red dog, she went to the women who dressed her. I was no longer very sad; I was no longer very tired. Clara's kiss, the taste of which I still had on my lips like a magic drop of opium—dulled my pain, relieved the throbbing of my fever, almost completely dispelled the monstrous image of Annie's death. And I looked calmly at the garden. Calmly? The garden descended in gentle slopes, graced everywhere by rare herbs and precious plants. An alley of enormous camphor trees began at the kiosk where I sat, and ended at a red door in the form of a temple, which opened out on the countryside. Between the leafy branches of the gigantic trees which concealed the view on the left, I could see the stream which gleamed like polished silver in the sun. I tried to become interested in the multiple decorations of the garden, in its strange flowers and grotesque vegetation. A man with two indolent panthers in leash, crossed the path. Here, in the center of a lawn, there stood an immense bronze + + +representing some divinity or other—obscene and cruel. There, cranes with blue plumage and red−throated toucans from tropical America, sacred pheasants, golden—crowned and golden−breasted ducks clad in brilliant purple like ancient warriors, and multicolored wading−birds, sought the shade beside the clumps of foliage. But neither the birds nor the felines, nor the gods, nor the flowers could hold my attention, nor the bizarre palace on my right which, between the dwarf cedars and the bamboos, lifted its bright terraces covered with flowers, and its shady balconies and covered roofs. My thoughts were elsewhere... very, very far away across the seas and the forests. They were centered in me, plunged into myself... in the very depths of my being! Calmly? Scarcely had Clara disappeared behind the foliage of the garden than I was seized with remorse at being there. Why had I returned? What madness and what cowardice had I obeyed? She had said to me one day you remember—on the ship: 'When you are too unhappy, you will go away.' I had believed myself fortified by my infamous past and, in fact, I + + +was only a worried and feeble child. Unhappy? Ah yes, I had been that—unhappy to the point of the worst possible torture; to the point of a prodigious disgust with myself. And I had gone away! With really vindictive irony I had profited by an English mission passing through Canton to escape from Clara—I was decidedly destined to follow missions. I was going to explore the lesser known regions of Annam. It meant forgetfulness, perhaps... and perhaps death. For two years—two long, cruel years, I had tramped and tramped—and there was neither forgetfulness nor death. Despite fatigue, danger and the accursed fever—I was not able for a day, nor for a minute, to cure myself of the frightful poison that woman had injected into my flesh—that woman to whom I felt myself attached and riveted. And I realized that the very thing that held me to her was the frightful rottenness of her soul and her crimes of love. She was a monster, and I loved her for being a monster! I had believed—had I really?—that her love could uplift me... and here I had descended even lower, to the floor of the tainted gulf out of which, having once inhaled its odor, you never climb again. + + +Often, in the depths of the forests, haunted by fever after the halts—in my tent—I tried to kill her monstrous and persistent image with opium. And the opium evoked her for me in a more material fashion, and more living, more imperious than ever. Then I wrote her mad, insulting and scurrilous letters—letters in which the most violent loathing was mingled with the most abject adoration. She answered me with charming, naive and plaintive letters which I sometimes found in the cities and post−offices we passed. She confessed to be unhappy over my abandonment... wept, supplicated and called me back. She found no other excuse than this: 'You must understand, my dear—' she wrote, 'that I have no soul for your horrid Europe. I bear in me the soul of old China, which is much more beautiful. Isn't it desolating that you can't grasp that idea?' In this way I learned that she had left Canton, where she could no longer live without me, to go and live with Annie in a city farther south in China, 'which is marvelous'. Ah, how could I have so long resisted the desire to abandon my companions and hasten to that sublime and cursed city, that exquisite and + + +agonizing hell where Clara breathed and lived, in the midst of fierce and unknown lusts for lack of which I was then dying. And I came back to her, like an assassin returns to the very scene of his crime... Laughter in the foliage, little cries, the bounding of a dog. It was Clara. She was dressed, half as a Chinese, half as a European. A blouse of pale mauve silk, embroidered with faintly gilded flowers, wrapped her in a thousand folds, outlining her lithe body and her rich contours. She had on a great hat of pale straw, in whose depths her face appeared like a pink flower in a slight shadow. And her little feet were clad in yellow leather. When she entered the kiosk, it was like an explosion of perfumes. “This is a queer get−up, isn't it? Oh, the sad, sad man from Europe, who hasn't laughed once since he returned! Don't you think me beautiful?” As I didn't get up from the divan on which I was stretched: “Quick! quick! darling—for we have to make the grand tour. I'll put on my gloves on the way. Come... come along! No, no... not you!” she added, gently, repulsing the dog which was yelping, leaping and + + +wagging its tail. She called a boy and instructed him to follow us with the provision−basket and the little pitchfork. “Ah,” she explained to me, “it's very amusing! A darling little basket woven by the best basket−maker in China; and the pitchfork... you'll see—a darling little fork whose teeth are platinum inlaid with gold, and the handle is made of green jade... green as the sky at the first flush of dawn... green as poor Annie's eyes! Come now—don't make that awful funereal face, darling... and come quickly... quickly!” And we started to walk in the sun, that horrible sun which blackened the grass, withered the peonies in the garden and bore down on my skull like a heavy laden helmet. + + +Part 2 + +The Bagnio is on the other side of the river, whose black and pestilential waters slowly and sinisterly flow between their low banks outside the city limits. To get to it, you have to make a long detour, and cross a bridge on which the Convict Meat Market is held every Wednesday, in the midst of a fashionable throng. Clara had refused to take a palanquin. We went down through the garden situated outside the city walls, on foot, and by a path bordered here and there by brown stones, thick hedges of white roses or clipped privet hedges, we reached the suburbs at the point where the dwindling city almost becomes countryside; where the houses, now shacks, are at great intervals from each other, and are situated in little yards fenced about with bamboo. From there on, there are only blossoming orchards, truck−gardens or empty lots. Men stripped to the waist and wearing bell−shaped hats worked laboriously in the sun planting lilies—those beautiful tiger lilies whose petals resemble the legs of marine + + +spiders and whose tasty bulbs serve as nourishment for the rich. We passed some wretched sheds where potters were turning their pots, where rag pickers squatting before huge baskets were taking stock of the morning harvest, while a flock of hungry and cackling condors wheeled back and forth above them. Not far off under an enormous fig tree, we saw a gentle and meticulous old man who was bathing birds at the edge of a fountain. Every few minutes we crossed in front of palanquins carrying foreign sailors, already drunk, towards the city. And behind us, sweltering and huddled, sprawling over the high hill, the city with its temples and strange red, green, and yellow houses, lay shimmering in the dazzling light. Clara walked rapidly, unmoved by my fatigue. Heedless of the sun which charged the atmosphere and burned our skin despite our parasols, she walked freely—supple, bold and happy. Occasionally, in a tone of merry reproach, she said to me: “How slow you are, sweetheart. God, you're slow! You're not getting anywhere. If only the doors + + +of the bagnio aren't open when we get there, and the convicts aren't already gorged! It would be frightful! Oh, how I would detest you!” From time to time she gave me a hamamelis tablet, whose property is to stimulate the respiration; and, her eyes mocking me: “Oh, little woman!... little woman... little, insignificant woman!” Then, half laughing, half angry, she started to run, and I had great difficulty in following her. Several times I had to stop and catch my breath. I felt that my arteries would burst in my chest. And Clara repeated, in her warbling voice: “Little woman! Little, insignificant woman.” The path comes out upon the quay of the stream. Two great steamers were unloading coal and European merchandise; there were a few junks equipped for fishing, and a considerable flotilla of sampans with their parti−colored tents lay at anchor, rocked by the light lapping of the water. There was not a breath of air. This quay was offensive to me. It was dirty arid battered, covered with black dust and strewn with the entrails of fish. The stench, the sound of quarreling, + + +notes of a flute, and the barking of a dog came to us from within the hovels that flanked it lice−infested tea−houses, cutthroat shops, suspicious work stalls. Laughingly, Clara showed me a sort of little booth where, spread out on caladium leaves, they sold portions of rats and quartered dogs, rotten fish and emaciated chickens smeared with copal, bunches of bananas and bleeding bats, threaded on the same spit. As we went on the stench became more unbearable and the filth thicker. On the stream the boats were jammed and huddled—a mass of sinister prows and miserable sail, torn to rags. A dense population lived here fishermen and pirates—frightful demons of the sea with wizened faces, lips reddened by the betel, and glances which made you shudder. They were playing dice, howling, and fighting; others, more peaceful, were gutting fish which they then strung in garlands and hung out in the sun to dry on ropes. Still others were training monkeys to perform a thousand tricks and obscenities. “Amazing, isn't it?” Clara said to me. “And there are more than thirty thousand who have no other + + +homes than their boats! The devil only knows how they manage!” She lifted her dress, exposing the lower part of her lithe and agile leg, and for a long time we followed the horrible road, as far as the bridge which, with its bizarre superstructure and five massive arches painted in violent colors, straddled the stream at the mercy of the current and the eddies. Upon the bridge the scene changed, but the odor grew stronger—that odor peculiar to all of China, and which in the cities, forests, and fields, makes you think constantly of decomposition and death. Little shops built like pagodas, tents in the shape of kiosks draped with bright silky materials, immense parasols set up in chariots, baskets on wheels—all were crowded together. In these shops and under these tents and parasols fat merchants with bellies like hippopotami, clad in yellow, blue, and green robes, howling and tapping on gongs to attract customers, were hawking carcasses of all sorts: dead rats, drowned dogs, quartered deer and horses, purulent fowl, all piled pell−mell in broad bronze pans. + + +“Here, here, this way! Come this way! Look... and choose! You can find no better any place else. There is none rottener.” And, delving into the basins, they brandished vile quarters of sanious meat like flags at the end of long iron−prongs, and with fierce grimaces accentuating the slashes of rouge on their faces painted like masks, amid the maddening reverberation of the gongs and the simultaneous uproar they repeated: “Here, here, this way! Come this way. Look... and choose! You can find no better any place else. There is none rottener.” As soon as we had reached the bridge, Clara said to me: “Now, you see, we're late. It's your fault! Let's hurry!” In fact, a great crowd of Chinese women, and among them some English and Russian women—for there were only a very few men, except for the shopkeepers—was swarming on the bridge. Gowns embroidered with flowers and weird designs, variegated parasols, fans fluttering like birds, laughter, exclamations of joy and squabbling—all + + +these vibrated, sang and hovered in the sunlight, like a celebration of life and love. “Here, here, this way! Come this way!” Bewildered by the jostling, deafened by the screeching of the merchants and the sonorous vibrations of the gongs. I almost had to fight to make a way through the throng and protect Clara from insults and blows. It was truly a grotesque combat, for I possessed no resistance or strength, and felt myself carried along by this human tumult as easily as a dead tree tumbled about in the furious waters of a torrent. Clara hurled herself into the thick of it with all her strength. She submitted to the brutal contact and, so to speak, the violation of this crowd, with passionate delight. Once she cried gloriously: “Look, sweetheart! My dress is all torn. It's delicious!” We had great difficulty in opening a passage to die booths, which were crowded and besieged as for a pillage. “Look and choose! You can find no better any place else!” “Here, here, this way! Right this way!” + + +Clara took the darling little pitchfork from the hands of the boy who was following us with her darling little basket, and she prodded about in the pans: “You pick too... pick, sweetheart!” I felt my heart would fail me, because of the appalling odor of the grave which was wafted from these booths... stirred−up pans... all this crowd rushing upon the corpses as though they were flowers. “Clara... Clara!” I implored. “Let's go away, I beg you!” “Oh, how pale you are! And why! Isn't it a lot of fun?” “Clara, dear Clara!” I insisted, “I can't possibly stand this odor any longer.” “But it doesn't smell bad, my love. It smells of death, that's all.” She did not seem to be affected. No grimace of disgust wrinkled her white skin, fresh as a cherry blossom. From the veiled ardor of her eyes, from the fluttering of her nostrils, she seemed to be experiencing thrills of passion. She inhaled the + + +stench with delight, like a perfume. “Oh, he lovely... lovely piece!” With graceful gestures, she filled the basket with the abominable scraps. And, painfully, through the excited crowd and amid the vile smells, we continued on our way. “Quick! quick!” +PART 3 + +The Bangniois built on the bank of the river. Its quadrangular walls enclose more than a hundred thousand square meters of land. There isn't a single window, and no other opening than the immense door crowned by red dragons and fortified by heavy iron bars. The watchtowers, square towers surmounted by roofs with upturned edges, mark the four corners of the sinister battlements. Other smaller turrets are spaced between them at regular intervals. At night these towers are lit up like lighthouses, and cast around the bagnio, over the meadows and the stream, a revelatory light. One of the walls dips its solid foundations into the black, fetid, deep water, and is hung with slimy algae. By means of a drawbridge, a low door communicates with the stockade which extends to mid−stream and to whose piles many trade−junks and sampans are moored. Two spearmen, lance in hand, keep watch at the door! On the right of the stockade, a little cruiser, like our river patrol−boats, lies motionless, the mouths of its three cannons trained on the + + +bagnio. On the left, as far as the eye can see along the river, twenty−five or thirty lines of boats mask the opposite shore with a jumble of variegated hulls, gaudy masts, rigging and grey sails. And from time to time, you can see those massive paddlewheel boats passing, propelled by wretches locked in a cage who painfully work them with their tense stiff arms. Behind the bagnio, and as far as the mountain which girdles the horizon with a somber line, extend rocky, rolling fields, here dirty brown and there the color of dried blood, in which grow only scant acres, bluish thistles and stunted cherry trees that never bloom. Infinite desolation! Overwhelming misery! During eight months of the year the sky is blue—a blue washed with red in which the reflections of a perpetual fire glow—an implacable blue into which no chance cloud ever dares to venture. The sun parches the earth, bakes the rocks, and vitrifies the pebbles which burst underfoot with the crunching of glass and the crackling of flame. No bird defies this aerial furnace. Only invisible organisms live there—clumps of bacilli which, toward evening, when + + +the bleak mists rise with the chant of the sailors on the sluggish stream, distinctly assume the shapes of fever, pestilence, and death. What a contrast with the other shore, where the fat, rich soil covered, with gardens and orchards, nourishes giant trees and marvelous flowers! On the other side of the bridge we luckily found a palanquin, \which carried us across the scorching fields almost to the bagnio, whose doors were still closed. A squad of police, armed with lances and yellow pennants, with great shields which almost covered them, held back the huge impatient crowd, which was swelling every minute. There were rows of tents where people were drinking tea, munching pretty bonbons and rose—or acacia—petals rolled in a fine scented paste sprinkled with sugar. In others, musicians played the flute and poets recited verses, while the punka, fanning the torrid air, produced a slight breeze which cooled their faces. Strolling merchants sold images, stories of famous crimes, models of torture and martyrdom, prints and ivories, curiously obscene. Clara bought one of the latter, and said to me: + + +“You can see that the Chinese, who are accused of being barbarians, are, to the contrary, more civilized than we; for they are grounded deeper in the logic of life and the harmony of nature! They do not consider the act of love a shameful thing that should be hidden. To the contrary, they glorify it, hymning all the gestures and caresses; just like the ancients, moreover, for whom the sexual organ, far from being an object of infamy and an image of impurity, was a God! You see how all Occidental art loses by the fact that the magnificent expressions of love have been denied it. With us, eroticism is poor, stupid and frigid. It is always presented in ambiguous attitudes of sin, while here it preserves all its vital scope, all its passionate poetry and the stupendous pulse of all nature. But you are only a European lover... a poor, timid, chilly little soul, in whom Catholicism has stupidly inculcated a fear of nature and a hatred of love. It has warped and perverted the sense of life in you.” “Dear Clara,” I objected, “is it really natural for you to seek sensuality in decomposition, and urge Your desires to greater heights by horrible + + +spectacles of suffering and death? Isn't that, to the contrary, a perversion of that nature whose cult you invoke, in order perhaps to excuse whatever criminal and monstrous qualities your sensuality involves?” “No!” said Clara, quickly, “since love and death are the same thing! And since decomposition is the eternal resurrection of life... Look—“ Suddenly she interrupted herself, and said: “But why do you tell me that? You're funny!” And with a charming pout, she added: “How provoking that you don't understand anything! How is it you don't feel it? How is it you haven't already felt that it is—I don't even say by love, but by the heightened sensuality which is the perfection of love—that all the intellectual faculties of man awaken and become more acute? And it's by this sensuality alone that you attain the full development of personality. Look! In the act of love, have you ever thought, for instance, of committing a beautiful crime? That is to say, lifting yourself above social prejudices and all the laws—above everything, in fact? And if you haven't thought if it, then why do you bother making love?” + + +“I haven't the strength to argue,” I stammered, “and it seems to me we are walking in a nightmare. This sun... this crowd... these smells... and your eyes—ah, your torturous and lustful eyes—and your voice... and your penchant for crime... all that terrifies me, and it's all driving me mad!” Clara gave a little mocking laugh. “Poor little pet!” she sighed, comically. “You won't say that tonight, when you're in my arms... and when I love you!” The crowd was growing more and more restless. Bonzes crouched under parasols, laid out long red gowns, like pools of blood, struck frenzied blows on gongs and hurled gross invectives at the passers—by who, to counteract their curses, devoutly threw large pieces of change into metal bowls. Clara led me into a tent all embroidered with peach flowers, made me sit down by her on a pile of cushions, and stroking my forehead with her exciting hand—with her hand which dispensed forgetfulness and intoxication, she said to me: “My God, how long it takes, darling! Every week + + +it's the same thing. They take so long to open the door. Why don't you speak? Do I frighten you? Are you glad you came? Are you happy to have me caress you, dear beloved little rascal? Oh, your beautiful tired eyes! It's the fever—and it's me too! Say it's me. Do you Want to drink some tea? Do you want another hamamelis tablet?” “I'd rather not stay here longer! I'd rather sleep.” “Sleep! How strange you are. Oh, you'll see how beautiful it is! And what extraordinary... what Unknown... what marvelous desires it instills into Your flesh! We'll come back by the river, in my sampan. And we'll spend the night in a flower−boat. Wouldn't you like to?” She lightly tapped my hands several times with her fan. “But you're not listening to me! Why aren't you listening to me? You're pale and melancholy. And, really, you're not listening to me at all.” She snuggled up against me, sinuous and caressing: “You're not listening to me, wretch,” she went on. “And you don't even caress me! Caress me, darling! Feel how cold and firm my breasts are.” And, in a hollow voice, her eyes darting green, voluptuous and + + +cruel flames, she spoke like this. “Listen! Eight days ago I saw an extraordinary thing. Oh, dear love, I saw a man whipped for stealing a fish. The judge simply said this: 'One must not always say of a man who carries a fish in his hand: He is a fisherman'! And he sentenced the man to die under the iron rods. For a fish, darling! It took place in the torture−garden. The man was kneeling on the ground—imagine it—and his head rested on a sort of block... a block all black with old blood. His back and loins were bare; a back and loins like old gold! I arrived just at the moment when a soldier, having gripped his queue, which was very long, was knotting it to a ring riveted in a stone slab in the ground. Beside the culprit, another soldier was heating a little... a very little iron switch, at the fire of a forge. And then—pay attention to me! Are you listening? When the switch was red, the soldier whipped the man on the loins. The switch hissed in the air, and it penetrated far into the muscles, which crackled, and a little reddish steam arose... you understand? Then the soldier let the switch cool in the flesh, which bubbled up and closed over it. Then, + + +when it was cold, he violently jerked it out with a single movement, along with little bleeding bits. And the man hurled frightful cries of agony. Then the soldier began again. He did it fifteen times! And I too, darling—it seemed to me that with every blow, the switch entered my loins. It was fierce and very sweet!” As I was silent: “It was fierce and very sweet,” she repeated. “If you knew how handsome that man was... how strong he was! Muscles like those of a statue. Kiss me, darling... kiss me!” Clara's pupils had rolled back. Between her half closed lids I could see nothing but the whites of her eyes. Again she spoke: “He did not budge. It made little waves on his back. Oh, your lips!” After some seconds of silence, she went on: “Last year, with Annie, I saw something much more astonishing: I saw a man who had attacked his mother and then disemboweled her with a knife. It seemed, besides, that he was crazy. He was sentenced to the torture of the caress. Yes, my + + +darling. Isn't it wonderful? Strangers aren't allowed to witness that torture, which, besides, is very rare today. But we gave some money to the guard, who hid us behind a screen. Annie and I saw everything! The madman—he didn't seem to be mad—was stretched out on a very low table, his limbs and body were tied by stout ropes, and his mouth was gagged, so he couldn't make movement or utter a cry. A woman with a grave face, not beautiful, not young, and dressed entirely in black, her bare arm circled by a broad gold band, came and kneeled beside the madman. She grasped him and set about her task. Oh darling, darling, if you could have seen! It lasted four hours... four hours, think of it! Four hours of frightful and skilled caresses, during which the woman's hand did not relax a moment, during which her face remained cold and gloomy! The culprit died in a jet of blood, which splattered the entire face of the tormentress. Never have I seen anything so atrocious; and it was so atrocious, my darling, that both Annie and I fainted. I still think of it!” With an air of regret, she added: “On one of her fingers that woman had a huge + + +ruby which, during the torture, flashed in the sunlight like a little red dancing flame. Annie bought it, but I don't know what became of it. I'd like very much to have it.” Clara was silent, her mind having undoubtedly returned to the bloody image of that abominable memory. Some minutes later a murmur ran through the tents and the crowd. Through my heavy eyelids which despite me had almost closed at the horror of this tale, I saw gown after gown passing, and parasols, and fans, and happy faces, and accursed faces, dancing, whirling, rushing. It was like a burst of immense flowers, like a whirl of fantastic birds. “The doors, darling,” cried Clara, “the doors are being opened! Come, come quickly! And don't be sad any more. Ah, I beg you! Think of all the beautiful things you're going to see, and the ones I told you about!” I got up... and seizing my arm, she dragged me along, I know not where. + + +PART 4 + +The door to the Bagnio opened on a wide, dark corridor. Through the corridor, but from beyond, there came to us the sound of a bell, muffled and deadened by the distance. And hearing it, Clara joyfully clapped her hands. “Oh, darling! The bell! The bell! We're in luck. Don't be unhappy any more... don't be ill any more, I beg you!” The crowd was milling so furiously at the entrance of the bagnio that the police had great difficulty in bringing about a little order in the tumult. It was into this crush of cackling, shouting, and suffocating people into this rubbing of cloth against cloth, and jostling, of parasols and fans, that Clara resolutely hurled her self, exalted by the ringing of the bell. I had not thought of asking her why it was ringing like that, or the meaning of its muffled distant tolling, which caused her so much pleasure. “The bell! The bell! The bell! Come!” But we couldn't get very far despite the efforts of the boys carrying baskets who, thrusting out violently + + +with their elbows, were attempting to make way for their mistresses. Tall porters with grimacing faces, frightfully emaciated, their chests bare and scarred beneath their rags, were holding baskets of meat above their heads, in which the sun was accelerating decomposition and hatching swarm of maggots. They were specters of crime and famine, images of nightmare and massacre, demons materialized from the darkest and most terrifying legends of China. Nearby I saw one whose laugh exposed a slash of saw−toothed mouth with its betel−lacquered teeth, and extended to the edge of his billy−goat beard, sinister and distorted. Some were cursing and cruelly pulling each others queues; others, with the gliding movements of felines, were slipping through the human thicket, picking pockets, cutting purses, snatching jewels and then disappearing with their loot. “The bell! The bell!” repeated Clara. “But what bell?” “You'll see. It's a surprise!” And the smells that arose from the crowd—smells of the latrine and the + + +slaughter−house, the stink of corpses and the perfumes of living flesh—nauseated me and chilled me to the marrow. I felt the same lethargic sensation I had so often experienced in the forests of Annam, in the evening, when the miasma rose from the deepest leaf—mold and death lurked behind every flower, every leaf, and every blade of grass. At the same time, shoved and jostled from every side, my breath almost failing, I was finally at the point of fainting. “Clara! Clara!” I called. She made me breathe salts, whose cordial power restored me a little. She was unrestrained and delighted in the midst of this crowd whose odor she inhaled, and to whose repugnant embraces she submitted with a sort of swooning lust. She offered her body—all her lithe and vibrant body—to the brutality, the blows, and the clawing. Her white skin was now a glowing pink; her eyes reflected a languid thrill of sensual delight; her lips were swollen, like firm buds ready to blossom. Once more, with a sort of mocking pity, she said to me: “Ah, little woman! little woman... little woman! You'll never be anything but a little, insignificant + + +woman!” Coming from the dazzling and blinding light of the sun, the corridor which we finally reached seemed at first full of shadow. Then little by little the shadows faded away, and I could get a clear idea of where I was. The passageway was vast and lit from above by windows which only allowed an attenuated light to pass through their opaque glass. The cool and moist air, almost cold, wrapped me from head to foot, like the breath of a woodland spring. The walls sweated like the galleries of a subterranean grotto. Under my feet, burned by the pebbles of the field, the sand which covered the flags of the tunnel possessed the gentle softness of seaside dunes. I breathed the air deeply, with full lungs. Clara said to me: “You see how nice they are to the convicts here. At least they're cool.” “But where are they?” I asked. “l can see nothing but walls on either side.” Clara smiled. “How strange you are! Here you are more impatient than I! Wait... wait a little! In a minute, darling. Listen!” + + +She halted and pointed out a vague spot in the tunnel, her eyes more brilliant, her nostrils palpitating, her ears attentive to sound, like a doe at bay in the forest. “Do you hear? There they are! Do you hear?” Then, from beyond the murmur of the crowd which thronged the passageway, from beyond the hum of voices, I perceived cries, hollow moans, the dragging of chains, breaths panting like a forge—a strange and prolonged growling of beasts. It seemed to come from the depths of the wall, from below the ground, from the very abyss of death. You could not tell whence. “Do you hear?” Clara went on. “There they are... you'll see them in a minute... let's go! Take my arm. Watch out... there they are! There they are!” We started to walk again, followed by the boy who was attentive to the gestures of his mistress. And the frightful corpse−odor also accompanied us, no longer left us, and was augmented by other odors whose ammoniacal acridity stung our eyes—and throats. The bell still rang down there—far off—slow and soft, muffled, like the cry of a man in agony. For the + + +third time Clara repeated: “Oh, that bell! He's dying, he's dying, my darling. Perhaps we'll see him!” Suddenly I felt her fingers clenched tensely in my flesh. “Darling! darling! On your right! How horrible!” Swiftly, I turned my head. The infernal procession had begun. In the wall at the right there were vast cells, or rather cages, enclosed by bars and separated from each other by thick stone partitions. The first ten were each occupied by ten condemned men; and all ten offered the same spectacle. Their necks were clasped in a pillory so wide it was impossible to see their bodies, and you'd have thought they were frightful severed living heads placed on tables. Crouched amid their filth, their hands and feet chained, they could neither stretch nor lie down, nor even take a rest. The slightest movement displaced the iron collars about their bare throats and bleeding necks, and made them utter howls of pain, alternately interspersed with fierce insults to us and supplications to the gods. I was mute with horror. Deftly, with pretty shivers and exquisite gestures, + + +Clara prodded in the boy's basket, and lifted out some small scraps of meat, which she gracefully tossed through the bars of the cage. Ten heads simultaneously turned in their balanced collars; simultaneously, twenty bulging eyeballs cast inflamed glances at the meat—glances of terror and hunger. Then one cry of agony arose from the ten contorted mouths. And, conscious of their impotence, the condemned men did not move again. They remained with their heads slightly inclined as though ready to roll down the slope of the collar, their pale and fleshless features convulsed in a rigid grimace, in a sort of frozen leer. “They can't eat,” Clara explained. “They can't reach the meat. Naturally, in such contraptions, it's understandable. After all, it's not very new. It's the torture of Tantalus, redoubled by the horror of the Chinese imagination, eh? Would you believe there were such unhappy people in the world?” Again she cast through the bars a small bit of carcass which, falling on the edge of one of the collars, made it sway slightly. Hollow groans were the answer to this gesture; a fiercer and more + + +desperate hatred lit up the twenty eyeballs at the same time. Instinctively, Clara recoiled: “You see,” she continued in a less assured tone, “it amuses them for me to give them meat. It helps these poor devils pass the time... it provides them with a little illusion. Come along... come along!” We passed slowly before the ten cages. Women standing before them shouted, or uttered bursts of laughter, or abandoned themselves to impassioned mimicry. I saw a very blond, Russian woman with a cold, limpid glance, hold out to the sufferers a vile greenish mess, which she alternately extended and withdrew on the tip of her parasol. Baring their fangs like mad dogs, with starving expressions which no longer expressed anything human, they tried to snatch the food which always escaped their sticky, slavering mouths. Curious women watched with attentive and joyful faces all the moves of this cruel game. “What whores!” said Clara, seriously indignant. “Really, there are some women who have no respect for anything. It's shameful!” I asked: + + +“What crimes have these creatures committed, to suffer such torment?” She replied carelessly: “l don't know. Nothing, perhaps, or doubtless very little. Petty thefts from shopkeepers, I suppose. Besides, they are only common people... wharf−rats... vagabonds... paupers! They don't interest me very much. But there are others. You'll see my poet in a minute. Yes, I have a favorite here, and he's actually a poet! Isn't it funny? Ah, but he's a great poet, you know! He composed an admirable satire against a prince who had robbed the treasury. And he detests the English. “One evening two years ago he was brought to my house. He sang delightful things. But he excelled especially in satire. You'll see him. He's the handsomest... at least if he's not dead already! You see, in this regime nothing is astonishing. What annoys me most is that he doesn't recognize me any more. I talk to him... I sing his poems to him... and he no longer recognizes them. It's really horrible, don't you think? Bah! It s also funny, after all!” She tried to be gay, but her gaiety sounded false. Her face was grave; her nostrils palpitated faster. + + +She leaned on my arm more heavily, and I felt shivers run all through her body. Then I noticed that in the left wall, opposite each cell, deep niches had been cut which contained painted and sculptured wood which, with the frightful realism peculiar to the art of the Far. East, represented every species of torture in use in China: scenes of decapitation, strangulation, flaying and tearing of flesh... demoniacal and mathematical conceptions which pushed the science of torture to a refinement unknown to our Occidental cruelty, inventive as it is. It was a museum of horror and despair, where no human ferocity had been overlooked, and which every minute of the day ceaselessly recalled to the convicts, by precise imagery, the skilful death to which their executioners destined them. “Don't look at that!” Clara said with a pout of disgust. “They're only painted wood, my love. Look this way, where it's real—Look! There's my poet—right there!” And she halted abruptly before his cage. Pale, fleshless, slashed with a skeletal grin, its + + +cheek bones bursting the gangrenous skin, its jaws bare beneath the flaps of its trembling lips—a face was pressed against the bars, between two long, bony hands, like the dry feet of a bird. That face, from which every trace of humanity had disappeared forever; those bleeding eyes, and those hands, now scabby claws, terrified me. I backed up with an instinctive movement, to escape the feel of the pestilential breath of that mouth against my skin, and to avoid the scratch of those claws. But Clara quickly led me back before the cage. In its depths, in ominous shadow, five living beings who had once been men, were walking and walking, and turning and turning, their torsos bare, their skulls black with dried, blood−streaked wounds. Panting, barking, howling, they vainly tried to shake the solid stone of the partition by pushing violently against it. Then they started to walk and turn again, with the suppleness of beasts and the obscenities of monkeys. A wide, transverse partition hid the lower part of their bodies, and from the invisible floor of the cell a suffocating, deadly stench arose. “Good−day, poet!” said Clara, addressing the + + +Face. “I'm nice, eh? I've come to see you once again, poor dear man! Do you recognize me today? No? Why don't you recognize me? I'm still beautiful, and I loved you a whole night!” The Face did not budge. Its eyes never left the meat basket the boy was carrying. And from its throat there came a raucous, bestial sound. “Are you hungry?” Clara continued. “I'll give you something to eat. I've chosen the best piece at the market for you. But, first, would you like me to recite Your poem: The Three Mistresses? Would you? You'll enjoy hearing it.” And she recited: I have three mistresses. The first has a spirit mobile as a bamboo leaf. Her light and Playful spirit is like the feathery blossom of the eulalia. Her eye is like the lotus. And her beast is as firm as the lemon. Her hair, twisted in a single braid, falls over her golden shoulder like a black serpent. Her voice has the sweetness of mountain honey. Her loins are slender and lithe. Her thighs are round as the supple trunk of the + + +banana−tree. Her gait is that of a young and playful elephant. She loves passion, knows how to give it birth and vary it! I have three mistresses. Clara interrupted herself: “Don't you remember?” she asked, “don't you love my voice any more?” The Face had not budged. It seemed not to hear. Its eyes still devoured the horrible basket, and its tongue clacked in its mouth, wet with saliva. “Come,” said Clara. “Listen again! And you'll eat, since you're so hungry.” And in a slow and rhythmic voice she continued: I have three mistresses. The second has abundant hair which gleams and flows in long silky garlands. Her glance would disturb the God of Love. And make the wagtail blush. The body of that graceful woman flows like a golden vine. Her earrings are encrusted with precious stones. Like a flower jeweled with frost on a cold and + + +sunny morning. Her clothes are summer gardens. And temples on festival−days. And her firm, full breasts shine like a pair of golden vases Filled with intoxicating liquors and perfumes. I have three mistresses. “Ouah! ouah!” barked the Face, while in the cage the five other condemned creatures echoed the sinister bark, walking and walking, turning and turning... Clara continued: I have three mistresses. The hair of the third is plaited, And rolled about her head. And never has known the sweetness of perfumed oils. That face which mirrors passion is deformed, Her body is like a pig's. You'd say she was always angry. She always scolds and complains. Her breasts and belly exhale a fishy odor. She is ill−favored in her entire person. She eats everything and drinks to excess. + + +And her wan eyes are always bleary. And her bed is more repugnant than a lapwing's nest. And she is the one I love. And I love her because there is something more mysteriously attractive than beauty: it is corruption. Corruption in which the eternal heat of life resides, In which the eternal renewal of metamorphoses unfolds! I have three mistresses... The poem was ended. Clara was silent. Its eyes avidly fixed upon the basket, the Face had not ceased barking during the recitation of the last stanza. Then, addressing me sadly, Clara said: “You see, he doesn't remember anything any more! He has lost the memory of his verses, like my face. And that mouth I kissed no longer knows the words of mankind! It's really unheard of!” From the basket of meat she chose the best and thickest piece, and her body prettily thrust forward, she held it out at the tip of her pitchfork, to the fleshless Face whose eyes glowed like two little + + +braziers. “Eat, poor poet!” she said. “Now eat” With the motions of a starved beast, the poet seized the horrible stinking scrap in his claws and carried it to his mouth where, for a moment, I saw it hanging like a piece of filth from the streets, between the fangs of a dog. But immediately, in the shaking cage, there was roaring and pouncing. Nothing could be seen but bare torsos, mingled and clasped to each other, grasped by long, thin arms, torn by jaws and claws, and contorted faces tearing at the meat. I could see nothing more. And I heard the noise of struggle on the floor of the cage, chests panting and wheezing with raucous respiration, the thumping fall of bodies, scuffling of flesh, cracking of bones, the muffled shocks of carnage, and a rattling of throats! From time to time a face appeared above the partition with the prey in its teeth, then disappeared. More barking, more rattling in their throats, and then silence—then nothing! Clara clung to me, trembling. “Ah, my darling... my darling!” I cried to her: “Throw them all the meat. You see they're killing each other.” She clasped me, embraced me. + + +“Kiss me. Caress me... It's horrible! It's too horrible!” And lifting herself up to my lips, she said, in a fierce kiss: “I can't hear anything. They're dead. Do you think they're all dead?” When we lifted our eyes to the cage again, a fleshless and bloody Face was pressed between the bars and was looking at us steadily, almost proudly. A strip of meat hung from its lips, amid threads of purple slaver. Its chest heaved. Clara applauded, her voice still trembling. “It's he! It's my poet! He's the strongest!” She threw him all the meat in the basket, and with her throat tightening: “I'm stifling,” she said. “And you too—you're all pale, my love. Let's breathe the air in the Torture Garden for a little while.” Slight drops of perspiration beaded her forehead. She wiped them away, and turning to the poet, she spoke, accompanying her words with a slight gesture of her ungloved hand: “I'm happy you were the strongest today! Eat! Eat! I'll come to see you again. Good−bye.” + + +She dismissed the boy who now was no longer needed. We went up the middle of the corridor with a hurried step, despite the hindrance of the crowd, careful to avoid looking to the right or left. The bell still rang. But its vibrations were diminishing, diminishing so that they were no more than the breath of a breeze, a tiny infant's cry, smothered behind a curtain. “What does that bell mean? Where does it come from?” I asked. “What? Don't you know? Why, it's the bell in the Torture Garden! Imagine... They bind a victim, and they lay him under the bell. Then they ring it wildly until the vibration kills him! And when death is near, they ring it gently, gently, so it doesn't come too soon—like they're doing down there, now! Do you hear?” I was going to speak, but Clara closed my mouth with a tap of her unfolded fan. “Now be quiet! Don't say anything! And listen, my love. And think what a dreadful death they must bring—those vibrations beneath the bell. And come with me. And say nothing... nothing.” When we came out of the corridor, the bell was + + +no more than the drone of an insect... a rustling of wings, scarcely perceptible in the distance. + + +PART 5 + +In the center of the prison, the Torture Garden occupies an immense quadrilateral space, enclosed by walls whose stones can no longer be seen because of a thick covering of tangled shrubs and climbing plants. It was built towards the middle of the last century by Li−Pe−Hang, superintendent of the imperial gardens and the cleverest botanist China ever had. In the stacks of the Musee Guimet you may consult many works which celebrate his fame, and very curious prints in which his most illustrious works are set forth. The wonderful Kew Gardens—the only ones in Europe which satisfy us—owe much to him from a technical point of view, and also from the point of view of floral ornamentation and landscape gardening, but they are still a far cry from the pure beauty of the Chinese model. According to Clara, that exquisite attraction is lacking which is implied by the mingling of torture with horticulture, blood with flowers. The earth, composed of sand and pebbles, like all that barren terrain, was largely dug up and + + +reworked with virgin soil brought at great expense from the other side of the river. It is related that more than thirty thousand coolies perished of fever in the construction of this gigantic garden, which took twenty−two years. These hecatombs were far from being useless. Mingled with the soil as fertilizer—for they were buried on the spot the dead enriched it by their slow decomposition, and besides, in no other place, even in the heart of the most fantastic tropical jungles, could a land richer in natural mould be found. Its extraordinary fertility, far from being exhausted in the end, still operates today through the excrement of the prisoners, the blood of the tortured, and all the organic debris the crowd deposits there every week which, carefully collected and cleverly rendered with the daily corpses in special retting vats, forms a potent compost for which plants are greedy and which makes them more vigorous and beautiful. Forks of the river, ingeniously diverted through the garden according to the requirements of the vegetation, provide a permanent moisture, and at the same time serve to fill the pools and canals, whose water is thus constantly renewed, and in + + +which almost extinct zoological forms are conserved—among others, the famous fish with six humps, celebrated by Yu−Sin and our compatriot, the poet Robert de Montesquiou. The Chinese are incomparable gardeners, quite superior to our vulgar horticulturists, who only attempt to destroy the beauty of plants by disrespectful practices and criminal hybridizations. The latter are actual malefactors, and I cannot imagine why very drastic penal laws have not already been passed against them, in the name of all life. I should even be happy to see them mercilessly guillotined, in preference to those anemic assassins whose social 'selectivism' is much more laudable and generous, since, the majority of the time, it only singles out very ugly old ladies and vile bourgeois, who are a perpetual outrage to life. Besides having pushed their infamy to the point of deforming the touching beauty of simple flowers, our gardeners have dared to perpetrate that degrading joke of giving to the fragility of roses, to the star like rays of the clematis, to the heavenly glory of the larkspur, to the heraldic mystery of the iris and to the modesty of + + +the violet—the names of old generals and disgraced politicians. In our flower−beds it is not rare to encounter an iris, for instance, baptized: General Archinard! There are narcissi—narcissi!—grotesquely designated: The Triumph of President Felix Faure; hollyhocks which, without protesting, accept the ridiculous appellation of: Mourning for Monsieur Thiers; violets—timid, sensitive and exquisite violets, to whom the names of General Skobeleff and Admiral Avellan have not seemed insulting nicknames! Flowers—all beauty, light and joy—all tenderness too, evoking the fierce mustachios and heavy riding−breeches of a soldier, or the parliamentary top−knot of a minister! Flowers mixing with political opinions and serving to spread electoral propaganda! To what aberrations and intellectual degeneration might such blasphemies and attempts at the divinity of things correspond? If it were possible that a being so stripped of a soul felt a hatred for flowers, European, and particularly French, gardeners would amply prove this inconceivably sacrilegious paradox! Being perfect artists and ingenuous poets, the + + +Chinese have piously preserved the love and holy cult of flowers; one of the very rare and most ancient traditions which has survived their decadence. And since flowers had to be distinguished from each other, they have attributed graceful analogies to them, dreamy images, pure and passionate names which perpetuate and harmonize in our minds the sensations of gentle charm and violent intoxication with which they inspire us. So it is that certain peonies, their favorite flower, are saluted by the Chinese, according to their form or color, by these delicious names, each an entire poem and an entire novel: The Young Girl Who Offers Her Breasts, or: The Water That Sleeps Beneath the Moon, or: The Sunlight in the Forest, or: The First Desire of the Reclining Virgin, or: My Gown Is No Longer All White Because in Tearing It the Son of Heaven Left a Little Rosy Stain; or, even better, this one: I Possessed My Lover in the Garden. And Clara who told me all these charming things, cried indignantly and stamped on the ground with her little feet, shod in yellow leather: “And they treat these divine poets, who call their + + +flowers I Possessed My Lover in the Garden, like lice and savages!” The Chinese are rightfully proud of the Torture Garden, the most thoroughly beautiful perhaps in all China, where, moreover, marvelous gardens are common. Here are gathered the rarest species of their flora, the most delicate as well as the hardiest, those which come from the snow−line on the mountains, or sprout in the burning furnace of the meadows, and also those, mysterious and fierce, which are hidden in the most impenetrable jungles, and to which popular superstition has given the names of evil genii. From the mangrove to the saxatile azalea, from the horned and biflorous violet to the distillating nepenthe, from the volubilate hibiscus to the stoloniferous helianthus, from the androsace, invisible in its rocky fissure, to the most wildly twining liana, each specie is represented by numerous specimens which, gorged with organic nourishment and treated according to the proper formula by clever gardeners, take on abnormal forms and colorations, whose prodigious intensity we have difficulty in imagining in our gloomy climate and our + + +uninspired gardens. In the hollow of a valley from which a number of sinuous alleys and paths branch out bordered by flowers in a supple and harmoniously flowing design, a vast pool crossed by the arch of a wooden bridge painted bright green, marks the center of the garden. White water lilies and nelumbos brighten its surface with their trailing leaves and floating corollas—yellow, mauve, white, rose and purple. Tufts of iris lift their slender stalks, on whose tops strange, symbolic birds seem to perch; and plumed rushes, galingales like hair, and giant luzula: mingle their incongruous leafage with the phalliform and vulvoid clusters of the most stupefying arum−lilies. On the edge of the pool, by an inspired calculation, amid the plaited hart's−tongue, globe−flowers and inulre, artistically trimmed glycines rise and arch over the water, which reflects their blue, swaying clusters. And pearl−grey cranes with silky plumes and scarlet wattles, white herons and white storks with Manchurian blue necks, stalk about amid the high grass with indolent grace and sacerdotal majesty. + + +Here and there on little hillocks and red rocks covered with dwarf ferns, androsace, saxifrage and creeping shrubs, slim and graceful kiosks lift above the bamboos and the dwarf cedars the pointed cones of their gilded roofs, and the delicate ribs of their framework whose extremities curve inward and up with a bold movement. Along the slopes, every species swarms: epimedia issuing from among the stones, with its frail flowers stirring and fluttering like insects; orange hemerocallis offering its calyx of a day to the hawk—moth and white renothera offering its calyx of an hour; fleshy opuntia, eomecons, morrea, and sheets, streams, and brooklets of primroses—those Chinese primroses which are so extremely polymorphous, and of which we possess only poverty−stricken images in our hot−houses. And there were so many charming and bizarre forms, and so many blending colors: and around the kiosks, between the patches of lawn, in the tremulous distance, it was like a rosy, mauve, and white rain, a variegated shimmering, a pearly, pink, and milky pulsation so tender and changing that it is impossible for me to express in words its infinite sweetness and + + +ineffable idyllic poetry. How had we come there? I knew nothing of it. Under Clara's hand a door had suddenly opened in the walls of the dark corridor. And suddenly, as though by the influence of a fairy wand, I was flooded with celestial light, and before me there were horizons and horizons! I gazed, dazzled; dazzled by the softer light, the gentler sky, dazzled even by the great blue shadows that the trees laid softly upon the grass, like voluptuous rugs; dazzled by the touching magic of the flowers and the floors of peonies that the slight shelter of the reeds shielded from the mortal heat of the sun. On one of the lawns, not far from us, a sprinkler sprayed water in which all the colors of the rainbow played, and through which the grass and flowers took on the translucence of precious stones. I gazed greedily, never tiring. But then I did not see all those details which I reconstructed later; I saw only an ensemble of mysteries and beauties whose sudden and consoling apparition I did not attempt to explain to myself. No more did I wonder whether it was reality that surrounded me, or only a + + +dream. I wondered about nothing, thought of nothing, said nothing. Clara talked and talked. Doubtless she was still telling me story after story. I wasn't listening to her, nor did I feel her at my side. At that moment, her presence beside me was so far from me! And her voice was so far away, and so strange. Little by little, I finally regained my self−possession, my memories, and a perception of the realities of things, and I understood why and how I happened to be there. Emerging from inferno, still pale from the horror of those faces of the damned, my nostrils still filled with the odor of decomposition and death, and my ears still humming with the howls of torture, the sight of this garden brought me sudden relaxation, after an exaltation and an unreal ascension of my entire being towards a dazzling land of dream. With delight, I drew in great gulps of the new air so impregnated with so many fine and soft aromas. It was the inexpressible joy of awakening after an oppressing nightmare. I tasted that ineffable impression of freedom which a man might feel who, having been buried alive in a frightful charnel house, has just lifted + + +its stone and been resurrected to the sunlight with his flesh intact, his limbs freed, and his soul reborn. A bench made of bamboo trunks was close by in the shadow of an immense ash whose purple leaves sparkled in the sun, creating the illusion of a dome of rubies. I sat down, or rather, I let myself fall back, for the joy of all this splendid life almost made me faint with an unsuspected passion. And at my left I saw a Buddha, the stone guardian of this garden, squatting on his rock and displaying his tranquil face—his face of sovereign kindness, bathed in azure and sunlight. Sheaves of flowers and baskets of fruit covered the pedestal of the statue with propitiatory and perfumed offerings. A young girl in a yellow dress reached up to the forehead of the inexorable god, and piously crowned it with lotus and lady−slipper. Swallows swooped about, uttering little joyful squeaks. Then I thought−and with what religious enthusiasm and mystic adoration!—of the sublime life of him who, long before our Christ, had preached purity to men, and enunciation, and love. But, hovering over me like sin itself, Clara, her + + +mouth red, and like the flower of the cydonia, Clara with her green eyes, the grey−green of the young fruit of the almond tree, hastened to lead me back to reality, and, indicating the garden with a broad gesture, she said: “See, my love, what marvelous artists the Chinese are, and how they contrive to make nature an accomplice of the refinement of their cruelty! In our frightful Europe which, for so long a time has not known what beauty is, they torture in secret, in the depths of their jails, or in public squares, among the vile drunken crowds. Here, it's among flowers, amid the prodigious enchantment and prodigious silence of ail the flowers, that the instruments of torture are erected, the stake, the scaffold and the cross. You'll see them right away, so intimately mingled with the splendor of this floral orgy and the harmony of this unique and magical nature, that they seem in some way to merge with her, and be the miraculous flowers of this soil and this light.” And, as I could not suppress a gesture of impatience: “Silly!” said Clara. “Little fool! You don't understand anything!” Her forehead barred by a hard + + +shadow, she continued: “Come! Have you ever been at a festival when you were sad or ill? Well, then you've felt how much your sadness was irritated and exasperated, as by an insult, by the joyful faces and the beauty of things. It's an intolerable feeling. Think of what it must mean to a victim who is going to die under torture. Think how much the torture is multiplied in his flesh and his soul by all the splendor which surrounds him; and how much more atrocious is his agony, how much more hopelessly atrocious, darling!” “I was thinking of love,” I replied in a tone of reproach, “and here you are talking to me again—forever—about torture!” “Doubtless! since it's the same thing—” She had been standing beside me, her hands on my shoulder. And the red shadow of the ash wrapped her in a fiery glow. She sat down on the bench and continued: “—and, since there are tortures wherever there are men, I can't do anything about it, my baby, and I try to adjust myself to it and enjoy it, for blood is a precious auxiliary of desire. It's the wine of love.” + + +With the tip of her parasol, she traced some naively indecent figures in the sand, and she said: “I'm sure you think the Chinese crueler than we. No... not at all! We English? Ah, don't mention it! And you French? In your Algeria, in the confines of the desert, I saw this: One day some soldiers captured some Arabs; poor Arabs who had committed no other crime than to try to escape the brutality of their conquerors. The Colonel commanded them to be put to death immediately, without an inquiry, without a trial. And this is what happened: There were thirty of them. They dug thirty holes in the sand, and they buried them up to their necks, naked, with their heads shaved, in the noonday sun. So they wouldn't die too fast they watered them from time to time, like cabbages. At the end of an hour their eyelids were swollen, their eyes bulged from their sockets, their swollen tongues filled their mouths, which gaped frightfully, and their skin cracked and roasted on their skulls. It was unimaginative, I assure you, and even devoid of terror—those thirty dead heads, sticking out of the sand like shapeless rocks! And we! It's still worse! Ah, I remember the strange sensation I felt + + +when, at Kandy, the gloomy former capital of Ceylon, I went up the steps of the temple where the English had stupidly, without torture, slaughtered the little Modeliar princes who, legends tell us, were so charming... like those skillfully made Chinese ikons, with so hieratically calm and pure of grace, and their golden halos and their long hands pressed together. I felt that what had happened there on those sacred steps, still uncleansed of that blood by eighty years of violent possession—was something more horrible than a human massacre; the destruction of a precious, touching and innocent beauty. The traces of that double European barbarity may be found at every step you take on the ancestral soil of that suffering and always mysterious India. The boulevards of Calcutta, the cool Himalayan villas in Darjeeling, the tribades of Benares and the sumptuous homes of the contractors in Bombay have not been able to efface the impression of mourning and death left everywhere by the atrocity of unskillful massacre, vandalism and senseless destruction. To the contrary, they accentuate it. No matter in what place it appears, civilization displays + + +that face which bears the double imprint of sterile blood and ruins forever dead. Like Attila, it might say: 'Grass no longer grows where my horse has trod.' Look here, before you and around you! There is not a grain of sand that has not been bathed in blood, and what is that grain of sand itself, if not the dust of death? But how rich this blood is, and how fertile is the dust! Look... the grass is thick... flowers swarm everywhere and love is everywhere!” Clara's face became exalted. A gentle melancholy softened the bar of shadow across her forehead and veiled the green flames of her eyes. She continued: “Ah, how sad and poignant the little dead city Kandy seemed to me that day! In the torrid heat, a heavy silence hovered over it, and vultures circled in the air. Some Hindus came out of the temple, where they had brought flowers to the Buddha. The gentle depth of their eyes, the nobility of their brows, the suffering fragility of their bodies, consumed by fever, the biblical slowness of their gait—all that moved me to the depths of my being. They seemed in exile on their native soil, close to their kindly God, chained + + +and watched over by Sepoys. And there was no longer anything earthly in their black pupils... nothing more than a dream of corporeal release, awaiting the dazzling light of nirvana. I do not know what feeling of respect for humanity prevented me from kneeling before these sorrowful, venerable fathers of my race—my parricidal race. I merely saluted them humbly, but they passed by without seeing me—without seeing my greeting—without seeing the tears in my eyes and the filial emotion which swelled my breast. And when they had passed by I felt that I hated Europe with a hatred that would never be extinguished.” Suddenly interrupting herself, she said: “But I'm boring you, eh? I don't know why I'm telling you all this. It has no bearing on the subject. I'm crazy!” “No, no, dear Clara,” I replied, kissing her hands. “To the contrary, I love you to talk to me like that. Always talk to me like that!” She continued: “After visiting the poor bare little temple, whose entrance was decorated by a gong—the only vestige of its former wealth—after breathing the odor of the + + +flowers with which the image of the Buddha was all strewn, I went sadly back to the city. It was deserted. That grotesque and sinister manifestation of Occidental progress, a pastor—the only human being—was prowling about, skirting the walls, a lotus blossom stuck in his mouth. In that blinding sunlight he had preserved—as in the city fogs—his ridiculous clergyman's costume; a soft black felt hat, a long black coat with a tight, greasy collar, and black trousers falling in ugly folds over the massive boots of a drayman. This dingy costume of a Protestant preacher was accompanied by a white parasol, a sort of ridiculous, portable punka, the sole concession the bigot made to the local customs and the Indian sun which the English have not to this day been able to turn into a sooty fog. And I irritably reflected that you can't take a step from the equator to the poles without running into that suspicious face, those rapacious eyes, those claw like hands and that vile mouth, which goes breathing the frightful verses of the Bible, in an odor of stale gin, over the charming divinities and adorable myths of naive religions.” + + +She grew excited. Her eyes expressed an overwhelming hatred which I would never have expected of them. Forgetting where we were, and her recent criminal enthusiasms and bloody exaltations, she said: “Wherever there is spilt blood to justify, piracy to consecrate, violation to bless, hideous traffic to protect, you are sure to see this British Tartuffe pursuing the work of abominable conquest under the pretext of religious proselytism or scientific study. His cruel and crafty shadow is cast over the wreckage of conquered people, coupled with that of the cutthroat soldier and the usurious Shylock. In the virgin forests where the European is more rightfully feared than the tiger, on the threshold of the humble, devastated hut, between the burning cabins, he appears after the massacre like the hangers−on of an army come to rifle the dead in the evening of a battle. A crony worthy of his rival, the Catholic missionary, who also brings civilization at the flame of a torch, and the point of a saber or a bayonet. Alas, China is invaded and devoured by these two scourges! In a few years nothing will remain of this marvelous country where I + + +love so much to live!” Suddenly she got up, uttering a cry: “And the bell, my love! I can't hear the bell any more. Ah, my God, he'll be dead! While we were here, talking, they probably took him to the morgue, and we won't see him! It's your fault too... “ She made me get up from the bench. “Quick, quick, darling!” “We're not in a hurry, my dear Clara. We'll always see enough horrors. Speak to me some more as you Were speaking a moment ago, when I loved your voice so much; when I loved your eyes so much!” She grew impatient: “Quick, quick! You don't know what you're saying!” Her eyes had become hard again, her voice panting, her mouth imperiously cruel and sensual. Then it seemed to me that the Buddha's face itself, distorted by the sunlight, became the twisted, sneering face of an executioner. And I saw the young girl who had made her offering, going away down a path between the lawns, in the distance. Her yellow dress was very small, light and gleaming, like a narcissus blossom. + + +The path we walked on was bordered by peach trees, cherry trees, wild quince and almond trees, some dwarfed and trimmed in bizarre shapes, others free, bushy, and thrusting their long branches laden with flowers in every direction. A little apple tree, whose wood, leaves, and blossoms were bright red, assumed the form of a bulging vase. I also noticed an admirable tree, which is called the birch−leaf pear tree. It rose in a perfect pyramid to a height of six meters, and from its wide base to its sharp cone−shaped tip, it was so covered with flowers that neither its leaves nor branches were visible. Innumerable petals continuously dropped off and others opened, and they fluttered around the pyramid and floated slowly onto the paths and lawns, covering them with the whiteness of snow. And the air in the distance was impregnated with the subtle scents of egrantine and mignonette. Then we skirted clumps of shrubbery decorated with tiny−flowered deutzias in large pink clusters, and those pretty Pekin ligustrums with their shaggy foliage and great feathery panicles of white flowers powdered with sulphur. + + +At every step there was a fresh delight and a surprise for the eyes, which made me utter cries of admiration. Here there was a vine, whose broad light leaves I had noticed in the mountains of Annam, irregularly indented and denticulated—as denticulated and indented and broad as castor−oil leaves, which enlaced an immense dead tree with its tendrils, climbed to the topmost branches and from there fell in a cascade, a cataract, an avalanche, sheltering from the sun an entire flora, which blossomed out at the base between the leaves, colonnades amid niches formed by its tumbling twigs. There, a stephanotis displayed its paradoxical foliage, preciously wrought like cloisonne, and I marveled at its multiple gradations of color, from peacock−green to steel−blue, from a delicate pink to a barbaric purple, and from a light yellow to a rich brown ochre. Close by, a group of gigantic viburnums, as high as oaks, shook snowy globes at the tip of every branch. From place to place gardeners, kneeling in the grass or perched on red ladders, were training clematis over fine bamboo armatures; others were + + +twining ipomcea and calystegia about long thin props of black wood. And everywhere on the lawns, lilies lifted their stalks ready to blossom. Trees, bushes, clumps of foliage, isolated or clustered plants, seemed at first to have grown wherever their seed had fallen at random, uncared for, without any other will than nature's, without any other design than that of life itself. It was an error. To the contrary, the location of every plant had been laboriously studied and chosen, either so the colors and forms would complement each other and set each other off, or so as not to interfere with plans, aerial perspectives and floral vistas, and thus multiply sensations by combining patterns. The humblest flower as well as the greatest tree assisted in an unbroken harmony by its very position,' in an ensemble of art whose effect was all the more stirring by the very fact that it gave no appearance of geometrical labor or decorative effort. Everything seemed also to have been arranged by the munificence of nature, for the triumph of peonies. On the gentle slopes, sown like lawns, lay strips + + +of odorous woodruff and pink crucianella, roses the color known as old rose, and fields of arborescent peonies like sumptuous carpets. Near by there were single blossoms that held out to us their immense calyxes, red, black, copper, orange, and purple. Others, ideally pure, offered the most virginal shades of pink and white. The peonies were actual fairies, miraculous queens of this miraculous garden. They were gathered in glistening masses, or lay singly beside the path, meditative at the foot of the trees and amorous beside the clumps of shrubbery. Wherever the eye wandered, it encountered a peony. On the stone bridges, entirely covered with saxatile plants, whose bold sweep bound the masses of rock together and lay on paths between the kiosks, peonies marched by like a holiday throng. Their brilliant procession scaled the hillocks around which the alleys and paths, bordered by slender silver prickwood and privet trimmed in hedges, climbed, crossed and tangled. I admired a little knoll where, protected by mats on very low, white walls built like snail−shells, there stretched the most precious species of peonies, warped by clever artists + + +onto an intricate lattice. In the gaps between these walls, perennial peonies bunched on high, bare stems, were spaced in square boxes. And the summit was crowned with thick clusters and massy bushes of the sacred plant which blossoms so rarely in Europe, but flourishes here throughout the year. And at my right, at my left, near by or quite lost in the distance, there lay forever and ever, peonies, peonies, and peonies... Clara had started to walk very rapidly again, almost insensible to all this beauty; she walked, her forehead barred by a hard shadow, her pupils glowing. She seemed carried away by some destructive power. She spoke, and I heard nothing—or very little, of what she said. The words, 'death', 'charm', 'torture', and 'love', which fell ceaselessly from her lips, seemed no more to me than a distant echo, the tiny voice of a scarcely audible bell far, far off, and melting into the glory, triumphs, and serene and stupendous passion of this dazzling life about me. Clara walked and walked, and I walked beside her, and everywhere there was a fresh surprise: + + +peonies, dreamlike or fantastic bushes, blue prickwood, violently streaked holly, plaited and twisting magnolias, dwarf cedars which were ruffled like a head of hair, aralia and tall grass, giant eulalia, whose ribbon−like leaves hung and swayed like snake−skins flaked with gold. There were also tropical species; unknown trees on whose trunks obscene orchids swayed; the Indian banyan, rooted in the soil by its multiple branches; immense nusas, and in the shade of their leaves, flowers like insects, like birds, such as the fairylike strelitzia, whose yellow petals are wings and flutter ceaselessly. Suddenly Clara halted as though an invisible hand had brutally been laid upon her. Anxious, tense, her nostrils palpitating like a doe's which has just scented the odor of the male on the wind, she inhaled the air about her. A shiver, which I recognized as the forerunner of a spasm, ran through her entire body. Her lips instantly became red and swollen. “Did you smell it?” she said, in an abrupt, hollow voice. “I smell the aroma of the peonies which fills the + + +garden,” I replied. She stamped on the earth with an impatient foot: “It's not that! Didn't you smell it? Try to remember!” And, her nostrils dilating, her eyes more brilliant, she said: “It smells like when I love you!” Then quickly, she bent over a plant, a thalictrum which lifted a long, branching, light violet stem beside the path. Each auxiliary branch issued from an ivory−like sheath the shape of a yoni, and ended in a cluster of tiny little flowers, thickly bunched and covered with pollen: “This is it! This is it! Oh my darling!” In fact, a powerful phosphoric odor, an odor of semen rose from this plant. Clara plucked its stalk, forced me to breathe the strange odor; then, sprinkling my face with pollen: “Oh, darling! darling!” she said, “what a lovely plant! How it intoxicates me. How it maddens me! Is it strange that there are plants that smell of love? Why not? You don't know? Well, I do! Why are there so many flowers like human organs, if not because nature ceaselessly cries to living beings in all her + + +forms, and all her perfumes: 'Love each other! love each other! Be like the flowers. There is nothing but love!' Oh, tell me quickly, darling little swine... “ She continued to inhale the odor of the thalictrum and chewed at the cluster, whose pollen stuck to her lips. And abruptly she declared: “I want them in my garden... I want them in my room... in the kiosk... in all the house. Smell, darling, smell! A simple plant, isn't it wonderful! And now, come... come! If only we don't get there too late... to the bell!” With a pout, which was both comical and tragic, she continued: “Why did you linger down there on that bench? Don't look at all these flowers; don't look at them anymore! You'll see them better later—after seeing suffering and death. You'll see how much more beautiful they are, and what ardent passion their perfumes excite! Smell again, darling; and come! And feel my breasts. How firm they are! The silk of my dress excites their nipples... it feels like a hot iron burning them. It's delicious. Come now!” She started to run, her face all yellow with pollen, and the stalk of the thalictrum between her teeth. + + +Clara did not care to halt before another image of Buddha, whose face, wrinkled and devoured by time, grimaced in the sunlight. A woman was offering it cydonia branches, and these flowers seemed like little children's hearts to me. At the turn of the alley, we passed a litter carried by two men, on which there stirred a bundle of bleeding flesh; a sort of human being, whose skin, cut in strips, trailed on the ground like rags. Although it was impossible to recognize the slightest vestige of humanity in that hideous wound which, moreover, once had been a man. I felt that by some miracle it was still breathing. And drops of blood spotted the pathway. Clara plucked two peonies and laid them silently upon the litter with a trembling hand. With a brutal smile, the porters bared their black gums and their lacquered teeth, and when the litter had passed: “Ah, ah! I see the bell,” said Clara, “I see the bell!” And all about us, and all about the litter disappearing in the distance, there was like a rosy, white, and mauve rain, a variegated shimmering, a pearly, pink, and milky pulsation so tender and changing that it is impossible for me to express in + + +words its infinite sweetness and ineffable idyllic poetry... + + +PART 6 + +We left the curving alley into which other alleys branch on their circuitous way to the center, and which runs along an embankment planted with many rare and precious, shrubs, and took a little path which follows a dip in the land and ends directly at the bell. Paths and alleys were sanded with pulverized brick, which gave to the green of the lawns and foliage an extraordinary intensity and the transparence of an emerald under the light of a chandelier. To the right there were flowering lawns; to the left, more shrubbery. Pink acers rubbed with pale silver, bright gold, bronze or red—copper; mahonia, whose leaves of reddish−brown copper were broad as the leaves of a cocoanut palm; eleagnus, which seemed to have been coated with polychrome lacquer; pyrus, powdered with mica; laurel, on which there twinkled and glittered the thousand facets of a variegated crystal; caladium, whose veins of old gold set off the embroidered silks and Pink lace of the blossom; arbor vitre both blue, mauve, silver and plumed with sickly yellows and + + +poisonous orange; pale tamarisk, green tamarisk, red tamarisk, whose branches swayed and floated in the air like slender alga: in the sea; cotton−plants, whose tufts took flight and traveled ceaselessly through the air; salix and its joyous swarm of winged seeds; and clerodendron, spreading its large scarlet bells like parasols. In the sunny spaces between these shrubs, anemones, ranunculus and heucliera were sprinkled through the grass; in the shady spots strange cryptograms showed themselves, mosses covered with minute white flowerlets, and lichens like agglomerations of polyps and clumps of madrepores. It was a perpetual enchantment. And in the midst of this floral magic, there arose scaffolds, the apparatus of crucifixion, gibbets with violent decorations and black gallows, on whose tops there leered frightful demon masks; high gallows for simple strangulation, lower gibbets mechanically equipped for the tearing of flesh. On the shafts of these torture columns—as a diabolic refinement—pubescent calystegia, ipomcea from Daoura, lophospermum and colocynth spread their blossoms, and clematis and atragene. Birds piped + + +their love−songs there. At the foot of one of these gibbets, covered with flowers like the column of a terrace, an executioner was seated, his instrument−case between his feet, cleaning his fine steel implements with silk cloths; his gown was all covered with splattered blood and his hands seemed gloved in red. Around him, as around a corpse, there hummed and whirled swarms of flies. But in this haven of flowers and perfumes, this was neither repugnant nor terrible—it seemed that petals from a neighboring quince tree had rained upon his robe. Besides, he had a peaceful and good−natured belly. His face, in repose, expressed kindliness and even joviality; the joviality of a surgeon who has just brought a difficult operation to a successful finish. As we passed, he lifted his eyes and greeted us politely. Clara spoke to him in English. “It's really too bad you didn't come along an hour earlier,” this good man said, “you'd have seen something very lovely... something that isn't seen every day. An extraordinary job, milady. I rebuilt a man from head to foot, after removing his entire skin. He was so badly built! Ha! ha!” + + +Trembling with laughter, his belly alternately swelled and sank with a hollow, rumbling sound. A nervous tic lifted the slit of his mouth up to his cheekbone and, at the same time, his lowered eyelids touched the edge of his lips, amid the fat folds of his face. And this grimace, which was a multitude of grimaces, gave his face an expression of comical and macabre cruelty. Clara asked: “Doubtless he's the one we met just now on the litter?” “Ah, you met him?” exclaimed the good man, flattered. “Well, what did you think of him?” “How horrible!” said Clara, in a tranquil voice which belied her exclamation of disgust. Then the executioner explained: “Be was a miserable harbor coolie... nothing at all, milady. He really didn't deserve the honor of so fine a piece of work. It seems he stole a sack of rice from the English... our dear, good friends, the English. When I had taken off his skin, and it hung to his shoulders only by two little buttons, I made him walk, milady! ha! ha! Truly, a great idea! You'd have split your sides. He seemed to be wearing—what do + + +you call the thing?—ah, yes, indeed! an inverness? Never had the dog been better dressed, nor by a better tailor. But he had bones so hard I chipped my saw on them—this beautiful saw.” A little, whitish, greasy bit remained between the teeth of the saw. With a flip of the nail he made it leap and sent it off into the grass, among the flowerlets. “That's marrow, milady,” said the jolly old fellow. “He didn't have too much of it.” And shaking his head, he added: “They very seldom have much of it, for we work almost exclusively with the lower class.” Then, with an air of tranquil satisfaction: “Yesterday, it was very strange. I made a woman out of a man. He! he! And it was such a good job you couldn't tell the difference, and I myself was fooled looking at him. Tomorrow, if the genii grant me a woman on this gibbet, I'll make a man of her. That's not as easy! Ha, ha!” Under the stimulus of another laugh, his triple chin, the pads of his neck, and his belly trembled like jelly. A single, red, arched line then joined the left corner of his mouth to the seam of his left eyelid, + + +among the puffs and furrows from which flowed little streams of sweat and tears of laughter. He put the cleansed and gleaming saw into the case and closed it. Its box was lovely and of an excellent lacquer: a flight of wild geese over a nocturnal pool, where the moon silvered the lotus and the iris. At that moment, the shadow of the gallows threw a transverse purple bar across the body of the executioner. “You see, milady,” continued the talkative fellow, “our trade, just like our lovely vases, our beautiful embroidered silks, and lovely lacquers, is disappearing little by little. Today we no longer know what torture really is, although I try to carryon its real tradition. I am swamped, and I can't stay its decadence all by myself. What can you do? Now they recruit executioners from God knows where! No more examinations, no more competitions. Influence and protection alone decide their choice. And what choices, if you only knew! It's shameful! In the olden days, they only entrusted these important functions to actual scientists, men of merit who knew the anatomy of the human body perfectly, who had + + +diplomas, experience, or natural talent. Today what the hell! The merest shoemaker can presume to fill these honorable and difficult positions. No more hierarchy,. no more traditions! Everything is disappearing, for we live in a chaotic age. There is something rotten in China, milady.” He sighed deeply, and showing us his red hands, and the instrument case gleaming in the grass beside him, he continued his long recital: “However, I do the best I can, as you have seen, to resurrect our abolished prestige. For I'm an old conservative myself, an uncompromising nationalist, and I despise all these practices, all these new methods which the Europeans, and particularly the English, are bringing us under pretext of civilization. I should not care to slander the English, milady; they are honest and very respectable people. But you must admit their influence on our customs has been disastrous. Every day they deprive our China of its unique character. From the point of view of torture alone, milady, they have done us much harm... much harm. It's a great shame!” “They know how, however,” Clara interrupted, + + +wounded in her national pride by this reproach; for though she really desired to display severity towards her compatriots, whom she detested, she intended to have them respected by all others. The executioner shrugged his shoulders and, compelled by his nervous tic, succeeded in displaying the most provocatively comical grimace that could ever be seen upon a human face. And while, despite our horror, we had great difficulty in suppressing our laughter, he declared peremptorily: “No, milady, they don't know how at all! In this matter, they are actual savages. Look—in India—let's consider India alone—what a vulgar, inartistic business! And how stupidly—yes, stupidly—they've wasted death!” He clasped his bloody hands as in prayer, lifted his eyes to heaven, and in a lugubrious voice which seemed to ring with tears of regret he went on to say: “When you think, milady,” he exclaimed, “of all the wonderful things they might have done down there... and which they haven't done... and which they'll never do! It's unpardonable!” “There, for instance,” Clara protested, “you don't + + +know what you're talking about.” “May the genii carry me off if I lie!” exclaimed the fat old fellow. And in a slower voice, with didactic gestures, he stated: “In torture, as in everything, the English are not artists; All the admirable qualities you wish, milady, but not that... no, no, no!” “Come now! they've made the whole world weep!” “Bad, milady... very bad,” corrected the executioner. “Art does not consist in killing multitudes... in slaughtering, massacring, and exterminating men in hordes. Really, it's too easy. Art, milady, consists in knowing how to kill, according to the rites of beauty, whose divine secret we Chinese alone possess. Know how to kill! Nothing is rarer, and everything depends on that. Know how to kill! That is to say, how to work the human body like a sculptor works his day or piece of ivory, and evoke the entire sum, every prodigy of suffering it conceals in the depths of its shadows and its mysteries. There! Science is required, variety, taste, imagination... genius, after all. But today, everything + + +is disappearing. The Occidental snobbery which is invading us, the gunboats, rapid−fire guns, long−range rifles, explosives... what else? Everything which makes death collective, administrative and bureaucratic—all the filth of your progress, in fact—is destroying, little by little, our beautiful traditions of the past. It is only here, in this garden, that they are conserved as well as can be... where we try at least to maintain them as well as possible. But what difficulties! what obstacles! what continual struggles—if you knew! Alas, I feel it won't last much longer. We have been conquered by mediocrity, and the bourgeois spirit is triumphing everywhere—” His face then possessed a singular expression of both melancholy and pride, while his gestures revealed profound lassitude. “And besides,” he said. “I who speak to you, milady—I'm certainly not just anybody. I can boast of having disinterestedly worked all my life to the glory of our great Empire. I have always been first in the competitive examinations in torture—and in many of them. I have invented—believe me—things actually sublime, wonderful tortures which, in another time + + +and under another dynasty, would have made my fortune and spelled immortality. Well, they scarcely pay any attention to me. I'm not understood. Let us say the word: they despise me. What can you expect? Today talent counts for nothing; it isn't given the slightest recognition. It's discouraging, I assure you! Poor China, once so artistic, so magnificently celebrated! Ah, I really fear it's ripe for conquest!” With a pessimistic and broken−hearted−gesture, he took Clara to witness to this decadence, and his grimaces were utterly untranslatable. “After all—look milady! Isn't it lamentable? I'm the man who invented the torture of the rat. May the genii devour my liver if it wasn't I! Ah, milady, an extraordinary torture, I swear. Originality, picturesqueness, psychology, the science of pain—it had everything in its favor. And the bargain, it was infinitely comical. It was inspired by that ancient Chinese gaiety, so neglected in our day. Ah, how it would have excited everyone's good spirits. What a resource for languishing conversations! Well, they've renounced it. Worse, they'd have nothing to do with it. And yet, the three trials we held before the judges + + +met with such a colossal success.” As we did not seem to pity him, and these recriminations of an old employee rather annoyed us, the executioner repeated, emphasizing the word: “Colossal... co−los−sal!” “What is this torture of the rat,” Clara asked, “and how does it happen that I don't know about it?” “A masterpiece, milady—a perfect masterpiece!” the fat man insisted in a resounding voice, and his flabby body settled more and more into the grass. “I heard you... and then?” “A masterpiece, in truth! And you see... you don't know about it... nobody knows anything about it. What a pity! How can you expect me not to be humiliated?” “Can you describe it to us?” “Can I! I absolutely can. I'm going to explain it to you, and you'll judge. Follow me carefully... “ And the fat man, sketching shapes in the air with precise gestures, spoke as follows: “You take a condemned man, charming lady, a condemned man, or anybody else—for it isn't necessary for the success of my torture that the + + +victim be condemned to anything at all—you take a man, as young and strong as possible, whose muscles are quite resistant; in virtue of this principle: the more strength, the more struggle and the more struggle, the more pain! Good. You undress him. Good. And when he is stark naked—yes, milady?—you make him kneel, his back bent, on the earth, where you fasten him with chains riveted to iron collars which bind his neck, his wrists, his calves and ankles. Good! I don't know whether I'm making myself understood? Then in a big pot, whose bottom is pierced with a little hole—a flowerpot, milady!—you place a very fat rat, whom it's wise to have deprived of nourishment for a couple of days, to excite its ferocity. And this pot, inhabited by this rat, you apply hermetically, like an enormous cupping−glass, to the back of the condemned by means of stout thongs attached to a leather girdle about the loins. Ah, hat Now the plot thickens!” He looked maliciously at us out of the corners of his lowered lids, to judge the effect his words were producing. “And then?” said Clara, simply. + + +“Then, milady, you introduce into the little hole into the pot—guess what!” “How should I know?” The good fellow rubbed his hands, smiled horribly, and then continued: “You introduce an iron rod, heated red−hot at the fire of a forge—a little portable forge which is there beside you. And when the iron rod is introduced, what happens? Ah, ha hat Imagine what must happen, milady—” “Oh, come on, you old gossip!” commanded my companion, and stamped angrily on the sandy path. “There, there!” said the prolix executioner. “A little patience, milady. And let us proceed methodically, if you please. Well, you introduce into the pot's hole, an iron rod, heated red−hot at the fire of a forge. The rat tries to escape the burning of the rod and its dazzling light. It goes mad, cuts capers, leaps and bounds, runs around the walls of the pot, crawls and gallops over the roan's flesh, which it first tickles and then tears with its nails, and bites with its sharp teeth, seeking an exit through the torn and bleeding skin. But there is no exit. During the first + + +frenzied moments, the rat can find none. And the iron rod, handled cleverly and slowly, still draws near the rat, threatens it, scorches its fur. What do you think of this for a beginning?” He caught his breath for a few seconds, then staidly, authoritatively, he instructed us: “It's great merit lies in the fact that you must know how to prolong this initial operation as much as possible, for the laws of physiology teach us that there is nothing more horrible to the human flesh than the combination of tickling and biting. It may even happen that the victim goes mad from it. He howls and struggles; his body, remaining free between the iron collars, palpitates, heaves and contorts, shaken by agonizing shudders. But his limbs are firmly held by the chains, and the pot, by the thongs. And the movements of the condemned man only augment the rat's fury, to which the intoxication of blood is often added. It's sublime, milady!” “And then?” said Clara, grown slightly pale, in an abrupt, unsteady voice. The executioner clacked his tongue, and + + +continued: “Finally—for I see you're anxious to know the climax of this wonderful and jolly story; finally threatened by the glowing rod and thanks to the excitation of a few well−chosen burns, the rat ends by finding an exit, milady. Ah, ha ha!” “How horrible!” exclaimed Clara. “Ah, you see... I'm proud of the interest you take in my torture. But wait! The rat penetrates the man's body, widening with claws and teeth the opening he madly digs, as in the earth. And he croaks, stifled, at the same time that the victim who, after a half−hour of ineffable, incomparable torture, ends by succumbing to a hemorrhage—when it isn't from too much suffering or even the congestion caused by a frightful insanity. In all cases, milady, and whatever the final cause of this death—you can be sure it's extremely beautiful!” Satisfied, and with an air of triumphant pride, he concluded: “Isn't it extremely beautiful, milady? Isn't it actually a prodigious invention? an admirable masterpiece, classic after a fashion, and whose + + +equivalent you may vainly seek in the past? I would not like to be lacking in modesty, milady, but agree that the demons who used to haunt the forests of Yunnam never conceived a like miracle. Well, the judges would have nothing to do with it! There I brought them, you'll admit, something infinitely glorious, something unique in its fashion, capable of inspiring our greatest artists. They didn't want it... they want nothing... nothing at all! The return to the classic tradition terrifies them. Without also counting all sorts of moral obstacles, painful to relate... intrigue, extortion, underhand rivalry, scorn of equity, horror of the beautiful—and what not? you'd have thought, at least, I'm sure, that for such a service they'd have made me a mandarin. Indeed! Nothing, milady—I received nothing! There are the symptoms characteristic of our downfall. Ah, we are a lost people, a dead people! Let the Japanese come; we can no longer resist them. Farewell China!” He was silent. The sun, sinking in the west, the shadow of the gallows then shifted with the sun, and lay stretched across the grass. The lawns became a brighter green; a sort of pink and gold mist rose from + + +the watered bushes, and the flowers shone more brilliantly, like little variegated stars in the firmament of foliage. A yellow bird carrying a long cotton−twig in its beak, repaired its nest in the depths of the leafage which covered the shaft of the torture column at whose foot the executioner was seated. Now he was dreaming, with a more placid countenance and less violent grimaces, in which cruelty was replaced by melancholy. “Just like the flowers,” he murmured, after a silence. A black cat which had emerged from the bushes, its back arched and its tail hanging, came and rubbed itself against him, purring. He caressed it gently. Then, having noticed a scarabee, the cat stretched out behind a tuft of grass and, its ears erect, its eyes glowing, started to follow the capricious flight of the insect in the air. The executioner, whose patriotic lamentations had been interrupted by the cat, shook his head and continued: “Just like the flowers! We have also lost the sense of flowers, for one thing follows another. We no longer know what flowers are. Would you believe that they are sending us some from Europe—we + + +who possess the most varied and extraordinary flora on the globe. What aren't they sending us today? Helmets, bicycles, furniture, coffee−mills, wine and flowers! And if you knew the sad stupidities, the sentimental nonsense and decadent follies our poets utter on the subject of flowers. It's frightful! There are some who assert they are perverse! Flowers perverse! In fact, they no longer know what to write. Have you ever heard such monstrous nonsense, milady? Why, flowers are violent, cruel, terrible and splendid... like love!” He picked a ranunculus which gently swayed its golden head above the grass beside him, and with infinite delicacy, slowly and amorously, he turned it between his fat red fingers, from which the dried blood scaled off in places: “Isn't it adorable?” he repeated, looking at it. “It's so little, so fragile, and besides, it's all of nature; all the beauty and power of nature. It contains the world. A puny and relentless organism which goes straight to the goal of its desire! Ah, milady, flowers do not indulge in sentiment. They indulge in passion, nothing but passion. And they make love all the time, + + +and in every fashion. They think of nothing else; and how right they are! Perverse? Because they obey the only law of life; because they are satisfied with the only need of life, which is love? But consider, milady, the flower is only a reproductive organ. Is there anything healthier, stronger, or more beautiful than that? These marvelous petals, these silks, these velvets... these soft, supple, and caressing materials are the curtains of the alcove, the draperies of the bridal chamber, the perfumed bed where they unite, where they pass their ephemeral and immortal life, swooning with love. What an admirable example for us!” He spread the petals of the flower, counted the stamens laden with pollen, and he spoke again, his eyes swimming in a comical ecstasy: “See, milady; one, two, five, ten, twenty. See how they quiver! Look! Sometimes twenty males are required for the delight of a single female! He! he! he! Sometimes it's the opposite.” One by one he tore off the petals of the flower: “And when they are gorged with love, then the curtains of the bed are torn away, the draperies of + + +the chamber wither and fall; and the flowers die, because they know well they have nothing more to do. They die, to be reborn later, and once again, to love!” Throwing the stripped peduncle away, he exclaimed: “Make love, milady... make love... like the flowers!” Then abruptly he took up his instrument−case, got up, his queue awry, and saluting us, went away across the lawn, treading with his heavy, swaying body upon the grass blossoming with squill, doronicum and narcissus. For some moments Clara followed him with her eyes, and as we started to walk towards the bell: “Isn't he funny! What a roly−poly!” she said. “He's so good natured.” I stupidly exclaimed in my horror: “How can you say such a thing, my dear Clara? Why, he's a monster! It's even frightful to think such a monster exists among men, somewhere in the world! I feel that from now on I'll always have the nightmare of that horrible face before me, and the horror of that conversation. You hurt me very much, I assure you.” Clara replied quickly: + + +“And you hurt me too. Why do you pretend the roly−poly is a monster? You don't know anything about it. He loves his art, that's all; like a sculptor loves sculpture, and like a musician loves music. And he talks about it marvelously! It's curious and aggravating that you refuse to get it into your head we are in China, and not, thank God, in Hyde Park or the Bodiniere, among all those dirty bourgeois you adore! As far as you're concerned, the customs of all countries should be identical—and what customs! A lovely idea! Don't you realize it would mean dying of monotony, and the end of travel, my dear!” Then suddenly, in a more decided tone of reproach: “Ah, really, you're not at all nice. Your egoism never relaxes for a second, not even when I request the slightest pleasure of you. It's impossible to even enjoy oneself a little with you; you're never happy with anything. Without counting the fact that thanks to you, we've probably missed the best!” She sighed sadly: “Here's another day lost! I have no luck.” I tried to justify myself and calm her: “No... no,” insisted Clara, “it's very bad. You're + + +not a man. Even when Annie was alive, it was the same thing. You spoiled all our pleasure—fainting like a little boarding−school girl or a pregnant woman. People like you stay at home. God, how stupid. We go out gaily, happily, to have a good−time, see sublime sights, be thrilled by extraordinary sensations... and then suddenly you're sad, and it's all over! No, no! It's stupid, stupid... it's too stupid!” She hung more heavily on my arm, and she pouted—a pout of annoyance and affection—so exquisite I felt a thrill of desire run through my veins. “And I who do everything you want, like a poor puppy,” she moaned. Then: “I'm sure you think me wicked, because I enjoy things that make you grow pale and tremble. You think me wicked and heartless, don't you?” Without waiting for a reply, she confessed: “But I grow pale too, and I also tremble. Otherwise I wouldn't enjoy myself. Well, do you think me wicked?” “No, dear Clara, you are not wicked... you are—” She quickly interrupted me, offered her lips to me: “I'm not wicked. I don't want you to think me + + +wicked. I'm a nice little woman... curious, like all women. And you, you're only an old hen! I don't love you any more. Kiss your mama, darling. Kiss hard... harder... harder. No, I don't love you any more—like milksop. Yes, by God, that's it... you're only a darling little insignificant milksop.” Gay, yet serious, smiling, but her forehead barred by the dark fold of shadow she possessed in anger as well as passion, she added: “Say I'm only a woman... a very little woman... a woman as fragile as a flower... as delicate and frail as a bamboo−stalk... and that of the two of us, I'm the man... and that I'm worth ten men like you!” And the desire her flesh provoked in me was augmented by an immense pity for her mad, lost soul. Once more, with a slight hiss of scorn, she said that phrase, which came so often to her lips: “Men! They don't know what love is, nor what death is, which is much more beautiful than love. They don't know anything, and they're always sad, and weep! And faint for no reason, Over nothings! Phht! phht! phht!” Changing her line of thought, like a beetle shifting from one flower to the next, she + + +suddenly asked: “Is it true what that roly−poly just told us?” “What, dear Clara? And ,what difference does he make to you?” “Just now the roly−poly said that among the flowers, twenty males were sometimes required for the delight of a single female. Is it true?” “Certainly!” “Really true? Really... really true?” “Obviously.” “The roly−poly wasn't making fun of us? Are you sure?” “You're funny! Why do you ask that? Why do you look at me with such strange eyes? Of course it's true.” “Ah!” She remained pensive, her lids closed for a moment. Her breath came hurriedly, her breast almost panted. Then, very low, she murmured, resting her head against my chest: “I'd like to be a flower. I'd like... I'd like to be—everything!” “Clara!” I begged, “my little Clara.” I held her fast + + +in my arms. I cradled her in my arms. “Wouldn't you? You wouldn't like to? Oh—you'd rather stay a little milksop all your life! Pugh, how naughty!” After a short silence, during which we even heard the red sand of the alley crunch beneath our heavy steps, she continued, in a singing voice: “And I'd also like... when I am dead... I'd like to have very strong perfumes put in my coffin... thalictrum blossoms... and images of sin... beautiful, exciting, naked images, like those that decorate the mats in my room. Or better, I'd like to be buried without a dress or a shroud, in the crypts of the temple of Elephanta, amid all those strange stone bacchantes, who caress and tear each other so furiously. Ah, my darling! I'd like... I'd like to be dead already!” And abruptly: “When you're dead, do your feet touch the wood of the coffin?” “Clara!” I implored. “Why are you always talking of death? And still you don't want me to be sad! I beg you, don't drive me completely mad. Give up these sordid ideas that torment me so and let's go home. For pity's sake, dear Clara, let's go home.” + + +She did not listen to my plea, and continued in a musical tone which I couldn't tell... no, truthfully, I could not tell whether it expressed emotion or irony, convulsive sobs or hysterical laughter. “If you are with me when I die... darling... listen to me! Please put... yes, that's the thing... please put a pretty little yellow silk cushion between my poor little feet and the wood of the casket. And then, please kill my handsome Laos hound... and stretch him out, still bleeding, beside me... like he himself is accustomed to stretch out, you know, with one paw on my thigh and another on my breast. And then... for a long, long time, please kiss me darling, on my teeth... and my hair. And tell me things... pretty things... things that soothe and excite... things like when you love me. Won't you, my darling? Promise me? Come now, don't make such a funereal face. It isn't dying that's sad; it's living when you're not happy. Swear! Swear that you promise me!” “Clara! Clara! I beg you! Be quiet!” I was undoubtedly at the end of my strength. A flood of tears gushed from my eyes. I wouldn't have been able to tell the reason for these tears, which + + +were not tears of distress, and which, to the contrary, gave me relief and relaxation. And Clara was deceived in attributing them to herself. It wasn't for her I was weeping, nor for her sin, nor for the pity which her poor, sick soul inspired in me, nor for the image of her death she had just evoked. It was for myself I was weeping, perhaps, for my presence in this garden, for this cursed love in which I felt that everything which then remained to me every generous impulse, every lost desire, and every noble ambition was profaned by the impure breath of these kisses, of which I was ashamed and for which I was also thirsty. Well, no! Why should I lie to myself? physical tears... tears of weakness, fatigue and fever, tears of enervation before sights too cruel for my debilitated senses, before odors too strong for my sense of smell, before the continual oscillation of my carnal desires from impotence to frenzy... the tears of a woman... tears for nothing at all! Certain that it was because of her, because of her dead... because of her stretched out in her coffin I was weeping, and happy in her power over me, Clara became deliciously cajoling: + + +“Poor little pet!” she sighed. “You're trying! Well then, say the roly−poly was good−natured. Say it to please me and I'll be quiet, and never talk of death again... never again. Come, right now, say it, little pig.” In a cowardly fashion, but also anxious to be finished at last with all these macabre ideas, I did what she asked. With clamorous joy, she fell on my neck, kissed me on the lips, and drying my eyes, exclaimed: “Ah, you're nice! You're a nice baby! A darling little baby, my darling! And I'm a vile woman, a wicked little woman who's always teasing you and making you cry. Well then, the roly−poly is a monster... I detest him. And I don't want you to kill my beautiful Laos hound. And I don't want to die. And I adore you, ah! And then... and then... all this is just to make you laugh, you understand. Don't cry any more, ah, don't cry any more! Now smile! Smile with your lovely eyes, with your mouth which can say such tender things... your mouth, your mouth! And let's walk faster. I love so much to walk very fast, on your arm!” + + +And head to head we walked, her parasol above us fluttering lightly, brilliantly, and madly, like an enormous butterfly. + + +PART 7 + +We were approaching the bell. On the right and left there were immense red and purple flowers and blood−colored peonies, and in the shade, under enormous parasol−shaped leaves, petasites and anthuriums like bleeding tissues seemed ironically to greet us on the way, and point out the path of torture to us. There were other flowers also, flowers of butchery and massacre, tiger−flowers with their gaping mutilated throats, diclytras and their garlands of little red hearts, and fierce labiates with their firm and fleshy pulp the tint of mucus; they were veritable human lips—Clara's lips crying from the tops of their tender stalks: “Come, my dears, come quickly. Where you are going there is still more pain, more torture, more blood flowing and dripping on the earth, more contorted and torn bodies breathing their last on iron tables... more ragged flesh swaying on the gallows−rope, more horror and more hell. Come, my loves, come, lip to lip and hand in hand. And look between the foliage and the lattice−work, look at the + + +infernal diorama unfolding, and the diabolic festival of death!” Clara was silent, shivering, her teeth clenched, her eyes more glowing and cruel. She was silent and walked, listening to these flower−voices in which she recognized her own, that voice of frightful days and homicidal nights, the voice of cruelty and lust, and also pain, which seemed to come not only from the depths of the earth and the abyss of death, but at the same time from the deeper and blacker depths of her own soul. A strident noise like the creaking of a pulley filled the air. Then there was another sound, very sweet, very pure, like the resonance of a crystal cup which a moth had struck in its evening flight. Then we entered a wide, curving alley, bordered on each side by high latticework which cast shadows riddled with little flecks of light upon the sand. Clara looked eagerly between the lattice and the foliage. And despite myself, despite my sincere determination to henceforth close my eyes to the damnable spectacle, drawn by the strange magnet of horror, overwhelmed by the invincible vertigo of abominable + + +sights, I too looked between the lattice and the foliage. And this is what we saw: On the plateau of a broad, low hillock, on which the alley ended in a continuous and scarcely perceptible rise, there was a round space, artistically laid out like an arboretum, by skilful gardeners. Enormous, squat, of a dull bronze lugubriously streaked with red, the bell in the center of this space was hung by block and tackle to the top beam of a sort of black wood guillotine whose pillars were ornamented with gilded inscriptions and terrifying masks. Four men, stripped to the waist, their muscles taut and their skin so distended that they were no more than a mass of shapeless lumps, pulled on the rope of the tackle, and their combined and rhythmic efforts could scarcely lift or budge the heavy mass of metal, which at each pull gave off an almost inaudible sound, that sweet, pure, plaintive sound we had just heard, and whose vibrations were lost and died away among the flowers. The clapper, a heavy iron pestle, was then gently oscillating, but no longer touched the sonorous walls of the bell, tired of having sounded a poor devil's death−knell for + + +so long a time. Under the cupola of the bell, two other men, their torsos rippling with sweat, their loins bare, and girdled with brown wool loin−cloths, were bending over something that could not be seen. Their chests with their protruding ribs and their lean flanks heaved like those of foundered horses. All this could be vaguely seen, a little confused, a little jumbled, broken suddenly by the intervention of a thousand things, and then recomposed in the gaps of the foliage and the interstices in the lattice. “We must hurry... we must hurry!” exclaimed Clara who, in order to walk faster, had closed her parasol and lifted her dress at the hips, with a bold gesture. 'The alley still curved, now flooded with sunlight, now shady, and it changed in appearance every moment, mingling with each floral beauty a more inexorable horror. “Look carefully, my darling,” said Clara. “Look all around. Here we are in the most beautiful and interesting section of the garden. Look! those flowers! oh, those flowers!” She indicated the bizarre plants which grew in a plot of earth where water could be seen gushing from all sides. I approached. + + +On high stalks, flecked with black and scaly like snake−skins, there were enormous spathes, sort of bell−shaped trumpets the deep violet of putrefaction on the inside, and the greenish yellow of decomposition on the outer, which were like the split thoraxes of dead beasts. From the bottom of these trumpets there issued long sanguinolent spadices, assuming the form of monstrous phalluses. Attracted by the cadaverous odor these horrible plants gave off, flies hovered about in compact swarms and were swallowed by the spathes, which were lined from top to bottom with contractile, silky threads that enlaced them and held them prisoner more surely than a spider's web. And along the stalks, finger−like leaves contracted and twisted like the hands of tortured men. “You see, my darling,” instructed Clara, “these flowers are not the creation of any sickly soul, nor of a raving genius... they are natural. Didn't I tell you nature loved death!” “Nature also creates monsters!” “Monsters, monsters! But there are no monsters! What you call 'monsters' are superior forms, or forms + + +simply beyond your understanding. Aren't the gods monsters? Isn't a man of genius a monster, like a tiger or a spider, like all individuals who live beyond social lies, in the dazzling and divine immorality of things? Why, I too then—am a monster!” We were then walking, between bamboo palisades, along which there ran honeysuckle, odorous jasmine, trumpet−flowers, arborescent mallow, and climbing hibiscus not yet in bloom. Moonseed embraced a stone column with its innumerable lianas. On the top of the column grimaced the face of a hideous divinity whose ears spread like the wings of a bat, and whose hair ended in flaming horns, incarvillea, hemerocallis, morrea, and larkspur with leafless stems concealed its base with their little pink bells, their scarlet thyrses, their golden calyxes and purple stars. Covered with ulcers and eaten by lice, a mendicant bonze who seemed to be the guardian of this structure, and who was training Touranian mongooses to make perilous leaps, insulted us as soon as we appeared. “Dogs! dogs! dogs!” We had to throw a few pieces of change to this + + +fanatic, whose invective surpassed all the outrageous obscenities which the indignation of the filthiest mind could conceive. “I know him!” said Clara. “He's like all priests of all religions; he wants to frighten us into giving him a little money, but he's not a bad devil!” From place to place in the recesses of the palisade which concealed verdant halls and beds of flowers, there were wooden benches equipped with chains and bronze collars, iron tables in the shapes of crosses,. blocks, gridirons, gibbets, automatic quartering machines, beds studded with cutting blades and bristling with iron spikes, stationary pillories, wooden horses, wheels, kettles and tanks suspended over extinguished fires—all the apparatus of sacrifice and torture, covered with blood, here dried and blackish, there sticky and red. Puddles of blood filled the hollow parts; long gobs of coagulated blood hung from disjointed machinery. Around these apparatus, the soil actually was wet with blood. Blood still starred the whiteness of the jasmine, marbled the pink coral of the honeysuckle and the mauve passion−flowers, and, bits of human + + +flesh which had flown under the whips and leather thongs, were stuck here and there to the edges of the petals and leaves. Since I grew faint and grumbled at the sight of these puddles, which expanded and reached the middle of the path, Clara encouraged me in a gentle voice: “This is nothing, yet, my darling... come along!” But it was difficult to proceed. Plants and trees, atmosphere and, earth were alive with flies, intoxicated insects, fierce and quarrelsome beetles, gorged mosquitoes. Around us all the fauna of the cadaver was hatching in myriads in the sun. Filthy maggots swarmed in the red pools, and dropped from the branches in soft clusters. The sand seemed to breathe and walk, lifted by the movement and pullulation of vermicular life. Deafened and blinded, we were halted at every step by these buzzing, multiplying swarms, and I was afraid for Clara—afraid of their deadly stings. And at times we had the horrible impression that our feet were sinking into the soaking earth, as though it had rained blood! “This is nothing yet,” repeated Clara, “come along with me!” + + +And here, to complete the drama, human faces appeared: squads of workmen who, with a nonchalant step, were coming to clean and repair the instruments of torture, for the hour of execution in the garden was over. They looked at us, doubtless astonished to encounter two people still standing at that time and in that place, two beings still alive, who still had their heads, their legs and arms. Further on, crouching on the earth in the posture of a grotesque china figure, we saw a big−bellied and good−natured potter who was varnishing freshly−baked flower−pots; near him, a weaver with indolent and exacting fingers was plaiting ingenious plant−shelters of supple reeds and rice−straws. A gardener was sharpening his grafting−tool on a grindstone, humming popular airs while an aged woman, chewing a betel−leaf and swaying her head in time, was placidly scouring a sort of iron maw whose sharp teeth still retained on their points some filthy human scraps. We also saw some children killing rats with sticks, and filling baskets with them. And along the palisades, hungry and fierce and dragging the imperial splendor of their tails in the + + +bloody mud, peacocks—troupes of peacocks, pecked at the blood which had spurted into the hearts of the flowers, and clucking fiercely, snapped up the scraps of flesh stuck to the foliage. The oppressive odor of the slaughter−house which persisted above all the other odors and dominated them, turned our stomachs and made us violently nauseous. Clara herself, fairy of the charnel−house, angel of decomposition and rot, not so well sustained by her nerves, perhaps, had grown slightly pale. Sweat beaded her temples. I saw her eyes roll back and her legs grow weak. “I'm cold!” she said. She gave me a glance of actual distress. Her nostrils, always distended like sails before the winds of death, had closed. I thought she was going to faint. “Clara!” I begged. “You see very well it's impossible. You see there's a degree of horror which even you yourself cannot exceed.” I stretched out my arms to her, but she refused them, and stiffening herself against sickness with all the indomitable energy of her frail organs: “Are you crazy?” she said. “Come, my darling... + + +faster... let's walk faster.” However, she took out her flask, and smelled its salts. “It's you who are all pale, and you walk like a drunken man. I'm not ill... I feel fine... and I'd like to sing.” She began to sing: Her clothes are summer gardens. And temples... But she had overestimated her strength, and her voice dried up in her throat. I thought this a good occasion to lead her back, persuade her, terrify her, perhaps. Vigorously, I attempted to draw her to me. “Clara! my little Clara! You must not defy your strength; you must not defy your heart. Let's go home, I beg you!” But she protested: “No... no... leave me alone... say nothing... it's nothing. I'm happy!” And quickly, she slipped out of my embrace. “You see! There isn't even any blood on my shoes.” Then, annoyed: “God, these flies are overwhelming! Why are there so many flies here? And these horrid peacocks—why don't they make them shut up?” I tried to chase them away; some persisted in + + +their bloody gleaning; others flew heavily off and, uttering more strident cries, perched not far from us on the top of the palisade and in the trees, from which their trains hung down like floods of material embroidered with dazzling jewels. “Filthy beasts!” said Clara. Thanks to the salts whose cordial odors she had breathed deeply, thanks especially to her implacable will not to faint, her face had already recovered its rosy tint, and her limbs their supple and vigorous movement. Then, in a firmer voice, she sang: Her clothes are summer gardens. And temples on festival−days. Her firm and swelling breasts, Gleam like a pair of golden vases, Filled with intoxicating liquors and perfumes. I have three mistresses... After a moment of silence, she started to sing in a stronger voice, which drowned out the buzzing of the insects: The hair of the third is plaited, And rolled about her head. And never has known the sweetness of + + +perfumed oils. That face which mirrors passion is deformed, And her body is like a pig's... And she always scolds and complains. Her breasts and belly exhale a fishy odor And her bed is more repugnant than a lapwing's nest. And she is the one I love. And I love her because there is something more mysteriously attractive than beauty: divine corruption. Corruption in which the eternal heat of life resides. Corruption in which the eternal renewal of metamorphoses unfolds. I have three mistresses. While she was singing, while her voice was floating among the horrors of the garden, a cloud arose, very high, very far away. In the immensity of the sky, it was like a little pink bark, a tiny little bark with silken sails which grew as it progressed in its gentle glide. And when she had finished singing: “Oh, the little cloud!” exclaimed Clara, suddenly joyful again. “Look how pretty it is, all pink against + + +the azure! Don't you know it? Have you never seen it? Why,. it's a very mysterious little cloud... and perhaps even because it's not a little cloud at all. It appears every day at the same time, from God knows where. And it's always alone, and always pink. It glides and glides and glides. Then it gets thinner, unravels, scatters, dissipates and melts into the firmament. And it's gone! And no one knows where it goes, any more than where it comes from! There are some very learned astronomers here who believe it's a genie. But I believe it's a wandering soul... a poor little bewildered soul, like mine. And speaking to herself, she added:” “What if it's poor Annie's soul?” For several minutes she contemplated the unknown cloud which was already growing pale, and little by little, fading away. “There! there it's melting... melting. It's all over. No more little cloud! It's gone.” She remained silent and fascinated, her eyes lost in the sky. A light breeze had arisen, making a gentle shiver run through the trees, and the sun was less fierce and less overwhelming, its light growing + + +magnificently copper towards the west and bathing the east in pearl−grey tones of infinite gradation. And the shadows of the kiosks and the great trees and the stone Buddhas lay slenderer, less defined, and altogether blue upon the lawns. + + +PART 8 + +We were near the bell. Very tall plum trees with twin blossoms, crowded together, intercepted our view of it. We discerned it from little shadows between the leaves and flowers, little decorative flowers, round and white like daisies. The peacocks had followed us for some distance, brazen and wary at the same time, stretching their necks and trailing the splendid trains of their oscillated tails across the red sand. There were also some all white, their breasts speckled with bloody spots, and their cruel heads crowned with a broad fan−shaped crest, each feather of which, slender and stiff, bore at its tip what looked like a trembling droplet of pink crystal. Iron tables, racks already set up, and sinister gear grew more numerous. In the shadow of a great tamarisk, we perceived a sort of rococo armchair. Its arms were made alternately of a saw and a steel blade, and its back and seat of iron spikes. A scrap of flesh hung from one of these spikes. Lightly, adroitly, Clara lifted it with the tip of her parasol and + + +tossed it to the hungry peacocks who hurled themselves upon it, striking out fiercely with their beaks. For several moments there was a dazzling scramble, a clash of gems whose marvelous spectacle I loitered to admire despite my disgust. Perched in the neighboring trees, some lophophores, sacred pheasants, and great fighting cocks from the Malay Peninsula with damascene breasts, watched the conflict of the peacocks and cunningly awaited feeding−time. Suddenly a wide gap opened in the wall of plum trees, a sort of light and flowery arch, and the bell was there before us—enormous and terrible before us. Its heavy beams, varnished black and decorated with gold inscriptions and red masks, seemed like the profile of a temple, and gleamed strangely in the sunlight. All around, the earth was covered with a layer of sand which muffled sound, and was surrounded by a wall of flowering plum trees blossoming with those heavy flowers which cover the entire length of their trunks with white bouquets. In the middle of this red and white circle, the bell was sinister to behold. It was somewhat like an abyss in + + +the air, a hanging void which seemed to rise from earth to sky, and whose bottom, filled with silent shadows, could not be seen. At that moment we understood what the two men were bending over—those men whose emaciated torsos and loins girdled with brown wool had appeared to us under the dome of the bell the moment we entered that part of the garden. They were bending over a corpse and unwrapping the ropes and leather thongs with which it had been firmly trussed. The corpse, the color of ochre clay, was entirely naked, and lay with its face to the ground. It was frightfully convulsed, the muscles bulging, its entire flesh violently disfigured, sunken here and bloated there, as by a tumor. You could see that the tortured man had struggled for a long time, vainly attempting to break his bonds, and that with the desperate and continuous effort both ropes and leather thongs had little by little sunk into his flesh, where they now made swellings of brown blood, coagulated pus, and greenish tissue. With one foot on the corpse, their backs arched, their arms taut as cables, the men were hauling on the bonds + + +which they could not pull away without tearing out strips of flesh. And a rhythmic grunt issued from their throats, which ended shortly in a raucous whistle. We approached. The peacocks had halted. Augmented by new flocks, they now filled the circular alley and the flowered opening, which they dared not cross. Behind us, we heard their murmuring and subdued shuffling. In fact, it was like a crowd which had come running to the threshold of a temple, a dense, eager, impatient, smothering, and respectful crowd, their necks stretched, their eyes round; haggard and loquacious, watching the performance of a mystery they could not understand. We came still nearer. “You see, my dear,” said Clara, “how curious and unique it all is... and what magnificence! In what other country could you find a like spectacle? A torture−chamber decked out as for a ball; and this dazzling crowd of peacocks, acting as audience, atmosphere, rabble, and setting for the festival! Wouldn't you think we were transported beyond life, amid the imagery and poetry of the very old legends? Aren't you really astounded? It seems to + + +me I'm always living in a dream here!” Pheasants with radiant plumage and long jeweled necks soared and crossed above us. From place to place, several dared to perch on the tips of flowering stalks. Clara, who was following all the chance forms and colors of these fantastic flights, continued after a few minutes of charmed silence: “Isn't it wonderful, my love, how the Chinese, so scorned by those who do not know them, are actually astounding people. No other race knows how to tame and domesticate nature with such painstaking skill. What unique artists! and what poets! See how that cadaver on the red sand takes on the tints of the old idols. Look at it carefully, for it's extraordinary, You'd think the vibrations of the bell, ringing wildly, had penetrated that body like some hard, compressing substance... that they'd forced the muscles out, made the veins burst, and twisted and ground the bones. A simple sound, so sweet to the ear, so deliciously musical, so touching to the mind, becoming something a thousand times more terrible and painful than all the old roly−poly's complicated instruments! Don't you think it's maddening? No, but + + +conceive of this prodigious fact—that the very thing that can make amorous virgins walking in the country in the evening cry with ecstasy and divine melancholy, can also make men roar with pain, and kill a miserable human carcass under the most ineffable agony. I say it's genius! Ah, what a wonderful torture!... and so discreet, for it takes place in the shadows, and its horror, when you come to think of it, could not be equaled by any other. Besides, like the torture of the caress, it's very rare today, and you're lucky to have seen it on your first visit to the garden. They tell me the Chinese brought it from Korea, where it's very old, and where, it seems, it's still frequently employed. We'll go to Korea, if you like. The Koreans are inimitably fierce tortures—and they manufacture the most beautiful vases in the world, thick white vases, quite unique, which seem to have been dipped... ah, if you knew!... in baths of seminal fluid!” Then, returning to the corpse: “I'd like to know who this man was! For here they never prescribe the torture of the bell, except for high−class criminals: conspiring princes and high + + +officials who no longer please the Emperor. It's an aristocratic and almost glorious torture.” She shook my arm: “You don't seem to be carried away by what I'm telling you. And you're not even listening to me! Just think—this bell, ringing and ringing. It's so sweet! When you bear it from a distance, it suggests some mystic sacrament, some joyous mass... baptisms... marriages. And it's the most terrifying of all deaths! I think it's wonderful. And you?” And as I did not answer: “Yes... yes,” she insisted. “Say it's wonderful! I want you to, I want you to! Be nice.” Faced with my persistent silence, she made a little angry movement. “How disagreeable you are!” she said. “You'll never be nice to me! What in the world can cheer you up? Ah, I don't want to love you any more. I have no more desire for you. Tonight you'll sleep alone, in the kiosk. I'll go and find my little Peach Blossom, who's so much nicer than you, and knows more about love than men.” I tried to stammer out something. + + +“No... no... never mind! It's over! I don't want to talk to you any more. And I'm sorry I didn't bring Peach Blossom. You're unbearable... and you make me sad. You make me stupid. It's odious! Here's a whole day wasted, which I'd planned to spend so thrillingly with you.” Her chatter and her voice irritated me. For some minutes I no longer noticed her beauty. Her eyes, her lips, her neck, her heavy golden hair, and the very ardor of her desire, and the very lustfulness of her sin, everything about her then seemed hideous to me. And from her gaping corsage, from the rosy nudity of her breast, where so often I had breathed, drunk, and feasted on the intoxication of such heady perfume, there arose an exhalation of putrefied flesh, that little mass of putrefied flesh which was her soul. Several times I had been tempted to interrupt her with a violent outburst... shut her mouth with my fists... wring her neck. I felt so savage a hatred rising in me against this woman, that seizing her arm roughly, I cried out in an unrestrained voice: “Shut up! Oh, shut up! Don't ever talk to me again—never! For I'd like to kill you, you devil! I + + +ought to kill you, and then throw you to the dogs, you beast!” In spite of my excitement, I was afraid of my own words. But to make them irrevocable after all, I repeated them, bruising her arm with my frantic hands: “Beast! beast! beast!” Clara made not the slightest movement to draw back, not even a flutter of the lids. She thrust out her throat and offered her breast. Her face lit up with an unknown and resplendent joy. Simply, slowly, with infinite sweetness, she said: “Well, kill me darling! I'd love to be killed by you, dear little darling!” That was the only flash of rebellion in the long and painful passivity of my submission. It died out as swiftly as it had flared up. Ashamed of the insultingly vile epithet I had just uttered, I released Clara's arm, and all the anger due to my nervous excitation suddenly melted in a great dejection. “Ah, you see,” said Clara, who did not care to take further advantage of my pitiful defeat and her too easy triumph, “you haven't even the courage for that, and it would be beautiful. Poor baby!” And as though nothing had happened between us, she + + +began to follow the frightful drama of the bell again, with passionate interest. During this short scene the two men had been resting. They seemed exhausted. Emaciated, panting, their ribs bulging beneath their skin; their thighs fleshless, they no longer seemed human. The sweat flowed, as from a spout, from the points of their mustaches, and their sides heaved like those of beasts hard pressed by dogs. But a guard suddenly appeared, whip in hand. He yelled, and with blow after blow, lashed the bony loins of the two wretches, who set to work again, howling. Frightened by the cracking of the whip, the peacocks screamed and flapped their wings. They fled in tumult, a whirling mass in panic−stricken disorder. Then, reassured little by little, they came back one by one, couple by couple, group by group, to take their places under the floral arch, swelling the splendor of their throats still more, and darting even fiercer glances upon the scene of death. The pheasants, red, yellow, blue and green, still wheeling over the white circle, embroidered the luminous ceiling of the sky with dazzling silks and soft + + +changing patterns. Clara called the guard, and engaged him in a brief conversation in Chinese which she related to me as fast as he replied. “These are the poor devils who rang the bell. Forty−two hours without a drink, without a single rest! Can you imagine it! And how is it they aren't dead too? I know very well the Chinese aren't made like us, and that in fatigue and physical pain they have extraordinary endurance. I too wanted to know how long a Chinese could work without taking nourishment. Twelve days, darling... they only drop at the end of the twelfth day! It's unbelievable! It's true that the work I imposed on him was nothing like this. I had him plow the earth, in the sun.” She'd forgotten my insults and her voice was amorous and caressing again, like when she told me love−stories. She continued: “For you don't question, darling, the violent, continuous, and superhuman effort it takes to set in action and work the clapper of the bell, do you? Even many of the strongest succumb at it. A ruptured artery... a lesion of the loins... and it's all over! They + + +fall dead suddenly, on the bell! And those who don't die of it in their tracks get diseases from which they never recover. Look how swollen and bloody their hands are from the friction of the rope! Besides, it seems that these are convicts, too. They die in killing, and the two tortures balance each other, see! All the same, you must be kind to these wretches... when the guard goes away, won't you give them a few taels?” And returning to the corpse: “Ah, you know... I know him now. He was a big city banker... was very rich and stole from everyone. But he wasn't sentenced to the torture of the bell for that. The guard doesn't know exactly why. They say he negotiated treacherously with the Japanese. They have to give some reason.” Scarcely had she uttered these words, than we heard some hollow moans, like stifled sobbing. They came from directly in front of us, from behind the white wall along which petals were falling off and slowly dropping onto the red sands. Tears and flowers falling! “It's his family,” Clara explained. “It's there according to the custom, waiting for them to deliver + + +the body of the tortured man.” At that moment the two exhausted men who, by a miracle of will, were still standing up, were turning the body over. Simultaneously, Clara and I uttered a single cry. And clasped to me, tearing my shoulder with her nails: “Oh, darling! darling! darling!” she cried; an exclamation by which she always expressed the intensity of her emotion at the approach of horror, as well as love. And we looked at the cadaver, and with the same horrified motion stretched our necks toward the cadaver, and we could not tear our eyes away from the cadaver. ' On its convulsed face, on which all the contracted muscles were outlined, frightful grimaces and hideous angles stood out, the twisted mouth revealing the teeth and gums, mimicked the frightful laugh of a madman, a laugh which death had stiffened, fixed and, so to say, modeled into all the folds of the skin. The two staring eyes darted a sightless glance at us, but their expression of the most terrifying insanity remained, and so prodigiously sneering and so fitfully mad was this stare, that never in the cells of an asylum had I been + + +destined to see its like in the eyes of a living man. Observing all these muscular displacements in the corpse, all these deviations of the tendons, all these projections of the bones, and on the face, this grin and this dementia of the eyes surviving death, I understood how much more horrible than any other torture must be the agony of a man lying forty−two hours in his bonds under the bell. Neither the dismembering knife, nor the red, burning iron, nor the ripping pincers, nor the wedges which spread the joints, crack the articulations, or split the bones like pieces of wood, can work greater ravages on organs of living flesh and fill the brain with more horror than this sound of an invisible and immaterial bell, combining in itself all the known instruments of torture, infuriating all the sensitive and thinking parts of an individual at the same time, and fulfilling the office of more than a hundred executioners. The two men had started to pull on the ropes again, their throats wheezing and their sides heaving more rapidly. But their strength was gone, and flowed from their limbs in rivulets of sweat. They could scarcely stand erect now, and with their stiff + + +and ankylosed fingers, pull on the leather thongs. “Dogs!” howled the guard. A blow of the whip wrapped their loins and did not even make them tense themselves against the pain. It seemed that, with their nerves unstrung, all feeling had disappeared. Their knees, giving and trembling more and more, now knocked against each other. What muscles remained under the flayed skin contracted in tetanic movements. Suddenly one of them, at the peak of exhaustion, gave a little raucous moan and throwing his arms forward, fell beside the corpse, his face against the earth, spewing a flood of black blood. “Up! coward! Up! dog!” the guard shouted again. Four times the lash hissed and snapped on the man's back. The pheasants perched on the flowering stalks flew off with a great whirring of wings. Behind us, I heard the startled chatter of the peacocks. But the man did not get up. He did not stir again, and the pool of blood grew wider on the sand. The man was dead! Then I dragged Clara away. Her little fingers dug into my skin. I felt very pale, and walked and + + +stumbled like a drunkard. “It's too much... too much!” I constantly repeated. And, Clara, who followed docilely, also repeated: “Ah, you see, my darling! I knew. Did I lie to you?” We reached an alley which led to the central pond, and the peacocks which had followed us that far left suddenly and scattered with a great noise across the bushes and lawns of the gardens. This very broad alley was bordered on either side by dead trees, immense tamarinds whose great bare branches crisscrossed in stern arabesques against the sky. A niche had been dug in every trunk. The majority were empty, while some enclosed the bodies of men and women, violently distorted and subjected to hideous and shameful tortures. Before the occupied niches, a sort of clerk in a black gown stood gravely, a writing desk swung in front of him, and a register in his hands. “This is the alley of the accused,” Clara told me. “And these people you see standing here are only present to take down the confessions which prolonged suffering might drag from these wretches. + + +They rarely confess, preferring to die like this rather than prolong their agony in the cages of the bagnio and finally perish under other tortures. Generally the tribunals do not make much use of accusations, except in political crimes. They judge in groups, in batches, willy−nilly. Besides, you see there are not many accused, and the majority of the niches are empty. It's none the less true that the idea is ingenious. I really believe they got it from Greek mythology. It's a horrible adaptation of that charming fable of the hamadryads, imprisoned in their trees. Clara approached a tree where a young woman was breathing her last. She was suspended by her wrists from an iron hook, and the wrists were clasped between two blocks of wood pressed together with great force. A knotted rope of coconut fiber covered with pulverized pimento and mustard and soaked in a salt solution, was wound about her arms. “They keep that rope ort,'“ my friend condescended to remark, “until the arms are swollen to four times their natural size. Then they take it off, and the sores it produces often burst, making hideous wounds. They frequently die of it, but never + + +recover.” “But if the accused is found innocent?” I asked. “Oh well... “ said Clara. Another woman in another niche had her limbs spread, or rather, torn apart; her neck and arms were clamped in iron collars. Her eyelids, nostrils, lips and other parts were rubbed with red pepper, and two thumbscrews crushed her nipples. Farther on a young man was suspended by means of a rope passed under his armpits; a great block of stone hung from his shoulders, and you could hear the cracking of his joints. Still another, his back arched, balanced by an iron wire which bound his neck to his two big toes, was crouching with sharp−pointed stones in the bend of his knees. The niches in the trunks were becoming empty. Only from place to place there was a man bound, crucified, or hanging, whose eyes were closed and seemed to be asleep—and perhaps was dead. Clara spoke no more, and no longer explained anything. She listened to the heavy flight of the vultures circling above the interlacing branches, and the cawing of crows sailing through the sky in countless flocks. The + + +lugubrious alley of tamarinds ended on a broad terrace flowering with peonies, from which we descended to the pond. The irises lifted their strangely flowered stalks above the water, their petals the color of old sandstone vases, precious, blood−purple enamels, sinister purples, blue flamed with orange ochre, velvet blacks, and their calilyxes sulphur−colored. Some, immense and twisted, looked like cabalistic characters. The water−lilies and nelumbos spread their great swooning blossoms on the golden water, and looked to me like severed, floating heads. We remained some minutes leaning on the balustrade of the bridge, looking silently at the water. All enormous carp whose golden snout alone could be seen, slept under a leaf, and between the Indian grass and the reeds smaller carp swam back and forth, like evil thoughts in a woman's brain. + + +PART 9 + +And so the day is ending. The sky becomes red, striped by broad, surprisingly translucent emerald bands. It is the hour when the flowers take on a mysterious brilliance, a glitter both hard and restrained. They flame everywhere, as though they gave the evening atmosphere its light—all the sunlight with which their pulp has been saturated during the day. Between the heightened green of the lawns and these flaming bands, the paths of pulverized brick seem like streams of incandescent lava. The birds are silent in the branches; the insects have hushed their humming and are dying or asleep. The nocturnal butterflies and bats alone begin to wander in the air. Everywhere, from the sky to the trees, and from the trees to the earth, there is silence. And I also feel it penetrate me, chilling me like death. A flock of cranes descends the slope of the lawn and forms a ring around the pool, not far from us. I can hear the patter of their feet in the tall grass, and the dry clicking of their bills. Then, standing on one leg, motionless, their heads beneath + + +their wings, they seem like bronze decorations. And the golden−snouted carp which was sleeping under a nelumbo leaf, tacks about in the water, then plunges and disappears, leaving broad circles on the surface which gently sway the closed calyxes of the water−lilies, then broaden and are lost among the tufts of iris whose diabolic flowers, strangely defined, inscribe, under the evening magic, symbolic signs out of the Book of Fate. Above the water an enormous arum−lily spreads the trumpet of its greenish flower mottled with brown spots, and wafts to us the strong odor of a corpse. For a long time the flies swarm persistently and intently about its carrion calyx. Leaning on the railing of the bridge, her forehead barred with shadow, her eyes intent, Clara looks at the water. The reflection of the setting sun glows on the back of her neck. Her flesh is slack and her lips compressed. She is grave and very sad. She looks at the water, but her glance goes further and deeper than the water; it sinks perhaps, towards something more impenetrable and blacker than the bottom of this pond; perhaps it plumbs her soul, the gulf of her + + +soul which, in eddies of flame and blood, unfolds the monstrous blossoms of its desire. What is she really looking at? What is she thinking of? I do no know. Perhaps thinking of nothing. Somewhat weary, her nerves bruised and torn under the lash of too many sins, she is silent, that is all. Unless by a last effort of cerebration, she is gathering all the memories and images of this horrible day, to offer them as a bouquet of red flowers to her sex. I don't know. I dare not speak to her. She frightens me, and she also troubles me to the very depths of my being, by her immobility and silence. Does she really exist? I wonder, somewhat fearfully. Was she not born of my debauchery and fever? Is she not one of those impossible visions to which nightmares give birth? One of those criminal temptations such as lust stirs in the imagination of those invalids called assassins and murderers? Might she not be nothing more than my soul, escaped from me despite myself and materialized in the form of sin? No... for I can touch her. My hand recognized the admirable, living realities of her body. Through the scant silky material which covers it, her skin burned my fingers. And + + +Clara did not tremble at their contact; she did not swoon, as she often has, at their caress. I desire her and I hate her. I would like to take her in my arms and embrace her till she smothered, till she was crushed and I could drink her death from her gushing veins. In a voice first threatening and then submissive, I exclaim: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” Clara does not reply, she does not budge. She still looks at the water which is growing darker and darker; but I really do not believe she is looking at the water, nor the red reflection of the sky in the water, nor the flower, nor herself. Then I draw away a little, in order not to see her any longer, or touch her, and I turn towards the disappearing light, towards the light which only remains in the sky as a great ephemeral glow, soon little by little to melt away and go out in the night. Shadow descends on the garden, trailing its blue veils, lightly over the bare lawns, heavily on the sharply outlined bushes. The white flowers on the cherry trees and peach trees, now a lunar white, seem to glide and wander and assume the weird + + +aspects of phantoms. And the gallows and stakes lift their sinister columns and black framework in the oriental sky, blue as steel. Horror! Above a bush, against the dying purple of the evening, turning and turning on the stakes, slowly turning in the void and swaying like flowers whose stalks would be visible at night, I can see the black silhouettes of five tortured men. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” My voice does not reach her. Clara does not reply, does not budge, does not turn. She remains bending over the water, over the gulf of water. And just as she does not hear me, no more does she hear the moans, cries, and death−rattles of all those dying in the garden. I feel something like a powerful oppression, like an immense fatigue after marching and marching across fever−laden jungles, or by the shores of deadly lakes—and I am flooded by discouragement, so that it seems I shall never be able to escape from myself again. At the same time, my brain is heavy and troubles me. It feels as though an iron band were clasping my temples, tight enough to burst my + + +skull. Then, little by little, my thoughts abandon the garden, the torture−arenas, the agony beneath the bell, the trees haunted by pain, the bloody and devouring flowers. They are trying to burst through the setting of this charnel−house, penetrate to pure light, knock once more upon the gates of life. Alas, the gates of life never swing open except upon death, never open except upon the palaces and gardens of death. And the universe appears to me like an immense, inexorable torture−garden. Blood everywhere and, where there is most life, horrible tormentors who dig your flesh, saw your bones, and retract your skin with sinister, joyful faces. Ah, yes! the Torture Garden! Passions, appetites, greed, hatred, and lies; law, social institutions, justice, love, glory, heroism, and religion: these are its monstrous flowers and its hideous instruments of eternal human suffering. What I saw today, and what I heard, exists and cries and howls beyond this garden, which is no more than a symbol to me of the entire earth. I have vainly sought a respite in quietude and repose in death, and I can + + +find them nowhere. I should like, yes, I should like to be reassured, cleanse my soul and brain with old memories, with the memory of friendly, familiar faces. I call Europe and its hypocritical civilization to my aid, and Paris—my joyful, laughing Paris. But it is the face of Eugene Mortain I see grimacing on the shoulders of the fat loquacious executioner who, at the foot of the gallows, in the flowers, was cleaning his saws and scalpels. These are the eyes, the mouth, the limp and pendant cheeks of Mme. G— I see bending over the wooden horses, and her rapacious hands I see touching and caressing the iron jaws, gorged with human flesh. On all those men and women I loved or thought I loved, little indifferent, frivolous souls, the indelible red stain now lies. And these are the judges, soldiers, and priests who everywhere, in the churches, barracks and temples of justice persist in the work of death. And it is in the individual man, and the man−crowd, and it is in the beast, the plant, the element; it is in all nature in fact which, urged on by the cosmic forces of love, rushes to murder, hoping thus to find beyond life satiation for the furious + + +desires of life which devour it and overflow it in jets of filthy scum! Just now I wondered who Clara was and whether she really existed. Does she exist! Why Clara! Clara is life, the actual presence of life and all of life! “Clara! Clara! Clara!” She does not reply, she does not budge, she does not turn around. A thicker blue and silver mist rises from the lawns and the pond and envelops the bushes, shrouding the gallows. And it seems to me that an odor of blood, an odor of the corpse rises with it—an incense that invisible censers, swung by invisible hands, offer to the deathless glory of death and to the everlasting glory of Clara! On the other bank of the pool, behind me, the gecko begins to sound the hours. Another gecko answers... then another... then, another, at regular intervals. They are like bells calling and conversing as they sing, festal bells of an extraordinarily pure timbre, crystalline and sweetly sonorous, so sweet they suddenly dissipate the nightmare shapes which haunt the garden and: give security to the silence, and the charm of a white dream to the night. These + + +notes, so clear, so inexpressibly clear, now evoke in me thousands and thousands of nocturnal landscapes, in which my lungs can breathe, and in which my thought quickens. In a few moments I have forgotten that I am beside Clara, that about me the soil and flowers actually are wet with blood, and I see myself wandering across the silvery night in the midst of the fantastic rice−fields of Annam. “Let's go home!” says Clara. This abrupt, aggressive, and weary voice recalls me to reality. Clara is before me. Her crossed legs are outlined beneath the clinging folds of her dress, and she leans on the handle of her parasol. In the twilight, her lips shine like a little light shielded by a pink shade, in a great closed room. As I do not stir, she speaks again: “Well, I'm waiting!” I try to take her arm but She refuses. “No... no. Let's walk side by side.” “The road is long from here to the river. Take my arm, I beg you.” “No... thank you. Be quiet; oh, be quiet!” “Clara! You are not the same.” + + +“If you want to please me, be quiet. I don't like to be spoken to at this time.” Her voice is dry, cutting and imperious. Now we are leaving. We cross the bridge, she first and I behind her, and we enter little alleys which meander across the lawns. Clara walks with abrupt steps, jerkily, and with difficulty. And such is the invulnerable beauty of her body that these efforts do not break its full, harmonious, and supple lines. Her hips retain a divinely voluptuous swing. Even when her mind is far from love, when it stiffens, writhes and protests against love, it is still love—all the forms, intoxication, and ardors of love which animate it and, so to speak, mould this predestined body. There is not an attitude about her, not a gesture, not a quiver, not a swish of her dress or a wave of her hair, which does not cry love, which does not ooze love, which does not shower love about her upon every being and on everything. The sand of the alley cries out beneath her little feet, and I hear the noise of the sand, like a cry of desire, like a kiss, in which I distinguish, clear and rhythmical, the name which is everywhere—which was in the creaking of the stake + + +and the death rattle of the dying men, and fills the twilight now with its exquisite, funereal murmur that fades and rises: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” The gecko is silent now, to hear that name more clearly. Everything is silent. The twilight is enchanting, infinitely sweet, and with a caressing coolness which intoxicates. We walk amid perfumes. We brush by marvelous flowers, more marvelous for being scarcely visible, which bow before us and greet us on our way, like mysterious fairies. Nothing remains of the horror of the garden; only its beauty remains, trembles and heightens as the night falls more and more deliciously about us. I feel recovered. It seems my fever is gone. My limbs become lighter, stronger, and more elastic. As I walk along, my fatigue vanishes, and I feel something like a violent need of love rising in me. I have caught up to Clara and I walk beside her... quite near her... excited by her. But Clara's face is no longer sinful, as when she was chewing the thalictrum blossom and passionately peppering her + + +lips with its bitter pollen. The frozen expression of her face belies all the sensuous ardor of her body. At least, as far as I can see, it really seems that the lust which trembled with so strange a flame in: her eyes and swooned upon her mouth, has disappeared, completely disappeared from her mouth and eyes, together with the bloody images of torture in the garden. In a trembling voice, I ask her: “You're angry at me, Clara? You detest me?” She replies in an irritable voice: “No! no! That's beside the point, my friend. I beg you, please be quiet. You don't know how much you fatigue me!” I insist: “Yes! yes! I can see you detest me... and it's frightful! I feel like weeping!” “God, you annoy me! Be quiet... and weep if it will give you any pleasure. But be quiet!” And as we pass the place where we stopped to talk to the old executioner, hoping by my stupid persistence to bring back a smile to Clara's dead lips, I say: “Do you remember the roly−poly, my love? How funny he was, with his gown covered with blood, and + + +his instrument−case, and his red fingers, darling... and his theories about the sex of flowers? Do you remember? Sometimes twenty males are required for; the delight of a single female.” This time a shrug of her shoulders is her reply. She does not even deign to be irritated by my words. Then, urged by crude desire, I clumsily try to embrace Clara, and with brutal hands I grasp her breasts. “I want you... here... you hear me?... in this garden... in this silence... at the foot of these gallows.” My voice is panting and a vile slaver flows from my mouth, and together with that slaver, abominable words... the words she loves! With a twist of the loins, Clara releases herself from my clumsy embrace, and in a voice, in which there is anger, irony and also lassitude and enervation: “God! how frightfully boring you are, if you only knew... and ridiculous, my poor friend! What a common goat you are! Leave me alone. In a little while, if you insist, you can work out your dirty desires on the harlots. You're really too ridiculous!” + + +Ridiculous! Yes, I feel ridiculous... and I become resigned to be quiet. I would not care to tumble into her silence again, like a heavy stone falling in a lake where swans are sleeping under the moon! + + +PART 10 + +The sampan, all illuminated with red lanterns, was waiting for us at the wharf of the bagnio. A Chinese woman with a coarse face, dressed in blouse and trousers of black silk, her arms bare and loaded with heavy gold bracelets, her ears hung with big gold hoops, was holding the hawser. Clara jumped into the bark, and I followed her. “Where do you want to go?” the Chinese woman asked in English. Clara answered in a jerky, trembling voice: “Anywhere you wish... it doesn't matter where... on the river. You know very well.” I noticed then that she was very pale. Her pinched nostrils, her drawn features, and her vague eyes expressed great suffering. The Chinese woman nodded her head vaguely at me. “Yes... yes, I know,” she said. Her thick lips were corroded by the betel−nut, and there was a bestial harshness in her glance. As she was still muttering words I did not understand: “Come, Ki−Pai,” commanded Clara in an abrupt + + +tone, “shut up, and do as I tell you. Besides, the gates of the city are closed.” “The gates of the garden are open—” “Do as I tell you.” Dropping the hawser, the Chinese woman grasped the sculling oar with a vigorous movement and handled it skillfully. We glided over the water. The night was very balmy. We breathed a warm but infinitely fragrant air. The water sang about the prow of the sampan, and the view on the river was like a great festival. On the opposite shore, and on our right and left, variegated lanterns lit up the masts, sails, and crowded decks of the boats. A strange murmur in the air—cries, chants, and music—came from them, as from a holiday crowd. The water was quite black, a dull, velvety black, with occasional dull, ripply gleams and no other bright lights than the shattered red and green reflections of the lanterns that illuminated the sampans with which the stream was literally jammed at this hour. Beyond a somber space in the dark sky, rising between the black masses of the trees, the city lay in the distance with its mounting terraces lit like + + +an immense red brazier, like a fiery mountain. As we went farther off we could make out, less distinctly, the high walls of the bagnio from which, at every round of the night watchmen, their swaying torches shot blinding triangles of light onto the stream and over the countryside. Clara had disappeared under the canopy which transformed this bark into a sort of cozy boudoir, lined with silk and breathing of love. Violent perfumes burned in a very ancient wrought−iron vase—a naive, synthetic image of an elephant whose four massive, barbaric feet rested on delicate interlacing roses. There were voluptuous prints on the hangings—boldly lustful scenes, executed strangely, cleverly, and magnificently. The frieze of the canopy, a precious piece in colored wood, exactly reproduced a fragment of that mural in the subterranean temple of Elephanta, which the archeologists, in accordance with Brahman traditions, modestly call: The Union of the Rooks. A broad deep mattress of embroidered silk occupied the center of the bark, and from the ceiling there hung a lantern with phallic inserts, a lantern partly + + +draped with orchids which shed the mysterious twilight of an alcove or a sanctuary over the interior of the sampan. Clara threw herself on the cushions. She was extraordinarily pale, and her body trembled, shaken by nervous spasms. I tried to take her hands, and they were icy. “Clara! Clara!” I implored, “what's the matter with you? What are you suffering from? Speak to me!” She replied in a raucous voice which issued painfully from her contracted throat: “Leave me alone. Don't touch me... don't talk to me. I'm sick.” Her pallor, her bloodless lips, and her rasping voice frightened me. I thought she was going to die. Terrified, I called the Chinese woman to my aid: “Quick! quick! Clara's dying! Clara's dying! Come quick!” But having parted the curtains and shown her chimera's face, Ki−Pai shrugged her shoulders and exclaimed brutally: “That's nothing. She's always like that when she comes back from down there.” And grumbling, she + + +returned to her oar. Under Ki−Pai's muscular exertions, the bark, lifted in the water, slid more rapidly over the stream. We crossed in front of sampans like our own, from whose canopies with their closed curtains there came songs, the sound of kisses, laughter, and the groans of love, which mingled with the lapping of the water and the distant, almost smothered reverberation of tom−toms and gongs. In a few minutes we had reached the other shore and for a long time glided by black, deserted hulks, and others lit and crowded; low dives, porter's teahouses, flower−boats for sailors and the riffraff of the port. Through portholes and lighted windows I caught fleeting scenes—strange painted faces, lewd dances, wild debauchery, faces of people under the influence of opium. Clara remained insensible to all that was taking place around her, both in the silken bark or on the stream. Her face was pressed into the pillow, and she chewed on it. I tried to make her breathe the smelling−salts. Three times she pushed the flask away with an exhausted, heavy gesture. Her throat bare, her breasts bursting the torn + + +material of her corsage, her legs tense and vibrant as the strings of a viol, she was breathing with difficulty. I didn't know what to do; I didn't know what to say. And I bent over her, with her agonizing soul, full of its tragic incertitudes and countless troubles. To reassure myself that it was really a passing crisis, that nothing in her had broken the springs of life, I grasped her wrist. Under my hand her pulse beat rapidly, light, and regular as the heart of a little bird or a little child. From time to time a sigh escaped her lips, a long and painful sigh which lifted and swelled her rosy breast. Trembling, I murmured in a low and very gentle voice: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” She did not hear me, did not see me, and her face was hidden in the pillow. Her hat had slipped from her hair whose red−gold, under the glow of the lantern, took on the tones of old mahogany, and projecting from her dress, her feet, clad in yellow leather, still were spotted here and there with bloody mud. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” Nothing but the song of the water and the distant + + +music and, between the curtains of the canopy, down there, the fiery mountain of the terrible city, and nearer, the red, green, alert, and sinuous reflections diving about in the black stream like slender, luminous eels. There was a slight shock, the Chinese woman called, and we drew up beside a sort of long terrace, the illuminated terrace of a flower−boat clamorous with music and excitement. Ki−Pai moored the bark to some iron hooks in front of a ladder whose red rungs dipped into the water. Two enormous, round lanterns gleamed on top of poles decked with fluttering yellow pennants. “Where are we?” I asked. “We are where she ordered me to bring you,” replied Ki−Pai in a surly tone of voice, “where she spends the night when she comes back from down there.” I suggested: “Wouldn't it be better to take her home, in her condition?” Ki−Pai replied: She's always like that after the bagnio. And then, the town is closed, and to get to the palace through + + +the gardens is too far now, and too dangerous.” And contemptuously, she added: “She's all right here. She's well known here.” I gave in. “Then help me,” I commanded, “and don't be rough with her.” Very gently, with infinite precaution, Ki−Pai and I took Clara in our arms, who offered no more resistance than a dead woman. Supporting her, or rather, carrying her, we got her out of the bark with difficulty, and helped her up the ladder. She was cold and heavy. Her head was thrown slightly back and her thick and sinuous hair, entirely undone, tumbled about her shoulders in fiery waves. Grasping Ki−Pai's coarse neck with a limp hand, and almost fainting, she uttered vague little moans and blurted out inarticulate little words, like a child. And panting slightly under my friend's weight, I groaned: “If only she doesn't die, my God! If only she doesn't die!” Ki−Pai sneered with her fierce mouth: “Die! She! There's no suffering in her body... only corruption!” We were received at the top of the ladder by two + + +women whose eyes were made up, and whose golden nakedness gleamed through the light, diaphanous veils which draped them. They had shameful jewels in their hair, jewels on their wrists and fingers, jewels on their ankles and bare feet, and their skin, rubbed with fine essences gave off scents of a garden. One of them clapped her hands joyfully: “Why it's our little friend!” she cried. “I told you she'd come, the darling. She always does. Quick... quick... lay her on the bed, the darling.” She indicated a sort of mattress, or rather litter, stretched out against the wall, and we laid Clara on it. She no longer moved. Under her frightfully open lids, only the whites of her eyes showed. Then the Chinese woman with the painted eyes bent over Clara, and in a deliciously rhythmic voice, as though she were singing, said: “Little, little friend of my breasts and my soul... how beautiful you are like that! You are as beautiful as a young girl dead. However, you are not dead. You are going to revive, little friend of my lips, revive under my caresses and the perfumes of my mouth.” She moistened Clara's forehead with a violent + + +perfume, and made her inhale the salts: “Yes, yes! dear little soul. You have fainted... and you cannot hear me! and you cannot feel my gentle fingers... but your heart beats, beats, beats. And love gallops in your veins like a young horse... love bounds in your veins like a young tiger.” She turned to me: “You must not be sad, because she has always fainted when she comes here. In a few minutes we'll cry with delight over her happy burning flesh.” And I stood there, inert, silent, my limbs leaden, my chest oppressed as in a nightmare. I had no further sensation of reality. All I had seen—mutilated visions rising from the surrounding shadows and the depths of the stream, then diving in again to reappear soon in fantastic shapes—terrified me. The long terrace hanging in the night, with its red−lacquered balustrades and slender columns supporting the bold slant of its roof, its garlands of lanterns alternating with garlands of flowers, was filled with a chattering, stirring and extraordinarily colorful crowd. A hundred painted glances fastened upon us, a hundred painted−mouths whispered + + +words I could not hear, but in which I seemed to hear Clara's name ceaselessly repeated perhaps only in my mind: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” And naked bodies, clasped bodies, tattooed arms loaded with gold bracelets, bellies and breasts, all twisted under their diaphanous, flying scarves. And in all this, around all this, above all this, there rose cries, laughter, songs, the notes of a flute, odors of tea and precious woods, the powerful aroma of opium, and breaths heavy with perfume. The intoxication of dream, debauch, torture and crime—all these hands, mouths, breasts, and all this living flesh came hurling upon Clara, to possess her dead flesh! I could not make a move or utter a word. At my side a very young and pretty Chinese girl, almost a child, with eyes both candid and provocative, was hawking strangely indelicate objects in a basket—shameless ivories, rose−colored rubber verges and illustrated books in which the thousand complicated joys of love were painted. “Love! love! who wants love? I have love for + + +everyone!” However I bent over Clara... “You must bring her to my room,” commanded the Chinese girl with painted eyes. Two powerful men lifted the litter, and mechanically, I followed them. Guided by the courtesan, they went through a wide corridor, sumptuous as a temple. On the right and left, doors opened upon great rooms spread with mats and lit by soft pink lights draped with muslin. Presiding over the thresholds, symbolic animals thrust out enormous and terrible organs, hermaphroditic divinities gave themselves to each other or straddled impassioned monsters. And perfumes burned in precious bronze vases. A silk portiere embroidered with peach blossoms parted and two women's heads were thrust through the opening. Watching us pass by, one of these women said: “Who's dead?” The other replied: “No! No one's dead. Can't you see it's the woman from the Torture Garden.” And Clara's name, whispered from mouth to mouth, from bed to bed, and room to room, soon filled the flower−boat like some monstrous jest. It even seemed to me that the + + +metal monsters repeated it in their ecstasy, howling it in their delirium of bloody passion. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” Here, I caught a glimpse of a young man stretched out on a bed. A little opium−lamp was burning within reach of his hand. In his strangely dilated eyes there was something like an agonizing ecstasy. Before him, mouth to mouth, and body to body, naked women clasping each other danced sacred dances while musicians, crouched behind a screen, blew into short flutes. There, seated in a circle or lying on the floor−mat in dissolute poses, their debauched faces sadder than the faces of the tortured, other women were waiting. At each door we passed there was moaning—panting voices, gestures of the damned, crushed and twisted bodies—a grimacing anguish sometimes howling under the lash of fierce passions and barbaric abuse. Guarding the entrance to one door, I saw a bronze group the mere arabesque of whose lines made me shudder with horror. An octopus, embracing the body of a virgin with its tentacles, was amorously crushing her. And I felt I was in a place of torture, not a house + + +of joy and love. The jam in the corridor became so great that for several seconds we were obliged to halt in the threshold of a room—the largest of them all—which differed from the others by its decorations and its sinister red lighting. At first, I only saw the women—a tangle of furious flesh and living scarves—women abandoning themselves to frantic dances and demoniac possession, around a sort of idol whose massive bronze, of a very ancient patina, rose in the center of the room and towered to the ceiling. Then the idol itself became clear, and I recognized it as that terrible idol known as the Idol of the Seven Verges. Three heads armed with red horns, coiffed with hair in twisted flames, crowned a single body, or rather a single belly, based on an enormous, pagan and phallic−form pillar. All around this pillar, at the exact point the monstrous belly ended, seven bronze verges thrust forth, to which the dancing women offered flowers and furious caresses. And the red glow of the room gave diabolic life to the jade balls which served as the Idol's eyes. At the moment we started again I witnessed a frightful spectacle whose + + +infernal, shuddering horror it is impossible for me to describe. Shouting and howling, seven women suddenly hurled themselves upon the seven bronzes. The Idol, embraced by all this raving flesh, vibrated under the multiple shocks of this possession and the kisses which rang out like the blows of a battering ram on the iron gates of a besieged city. Then there was a maddened clamor about the Idol, an insanity of savage abandon, a storm of bodies so frantically clasped and welded to each other that they assumed the fierce appearance of a massacre, resembling the carnage of those condemned men in their iron cages fighting over Clara's scrap of putrid meat! In that atrocious second I understood that desire can attain the darkest human terror and give an actual idea of hell and its horror. And it seemed to me that all these shocks, all these panting voices, all these groans, all these bites and the Idol itself, had only one word—a single word—to express and belch their rage of insatiability and the torture of their impotence: “Clara!” When we had reached the room and deposited + + +Clara, still unconscious, on a bed, I once more became aware of myself and where I was. These chants, debauches, sacrifices, devitalizing perfumes and impure contacts which further soiled the sleeping soul of my friend, flooded me with an overwhelming shame even more powerful than my horror. I had great difficulty in chasing away the curious and talkative women who had followed us, not only from the bed on which we had laid Clara, but even from the room where I wanted to be alone with her. I retained only Ki−Pai who, despite her surly airs and coarse remarks, revealed herself to be very devoted to her mistress and displayed great delicacy and tender skill in the care she took of her. Clara's pulse still beat with the same reassuring regularity as though she had been in robust health. Life had not for a moment left this flesh which seemed forever dead. And both Ki−Pai and I were eager for her recovery. Suddenly she began to moan; the muscles of her face contracted, and light nervous spasms shook her throat, her arms and legs. Ki−Pai said: “She will have a terrible crisis. You'll have to hold + + +her firmly and take good care she doesn't claw her face and tear out her hair with her nails.” I thought she could hear me, and that, knowing me there beside her, the crisis Ki−Pai had predicted would be moderated. I murmured in her ear, attempting to put in my words all the caress of my voice, all the affection of my heart and also all the compassion—ah yes!—all the compassion in the world. “Clara! Clara! It's I. Look at me... listen to me.” But Ki−Pai stopped my mouth. “Be quiet!” she said imperiously. “How can you expect her to hear us? She's still with the evil genii.” Then Clara began to struggle. All her muscles tightened, swelled and contracted frightfully... her articulations cracked, like the joints of a boat disabled in a storm. An expression of horrible suffering, all the more horrible for being silent, masked her face, contorted like the faces of the tortured men under the bell in the garden. Between her half−closed, twitching lids, only a slender bluish trace of her eyes showed. A little froth foamed at her lips. And, breathlessly, I groaned: “My God! my God! + + +Is it possible? What's going to happen?” Ki−Pai commanded me: “Hold her down... but leave her body free... for the demons must leave her body.” And she added: “It's the end. In a moment she will begin to cry.” We held her wrists, to prevent her from belaboring her face with her nails. And she had such strength I thought she would crush our hands. In a last convulsion her body was arched from her heels to her neck and taut skin quivered. Then, little by little the crisis abated. Her muscles relaxed, and she fell back exhausted on the bed, her eyes full of tears. For several moments she wept and wept. Tears flowed from her eyes, silently and ceaselessly, as from a spring! “It's over,” said Ki−Pai. “You may talk to her.” Her hand was now soft, moist, and burning in my own. Her eyes, still vague and distant, sought to recapture a consciousness of objects and shapes about her. She seemed to be returning from a long and agonizing sleep. “Clara! my little Clara!” I murmured. For a long time she looked at me through her tears with a sad, + + +hazy look. “You,” she said. “You... ah, yes.” And her voice was like a whisper. “It's I, it's I! Clara. Here I am. Do you recognize me?” She gave a sort of little hiccough, a little sob. And she stammered. “Oh, my darling! my darling! my poor darling!” Resting her head against mine, she begged me: “Don't move. I'm all right like this... I'm pure like this... I'm all white... all white... like an anemone!” I asked her if she was still suffering. “No, no! I'm not suffering... and I'm happy to be here by you, quite little, beside you... quite little, quite little... and all white, white as those little swallows in the Chinese tales... you know... those little swallows.” With great difficulty, she uttered only little words... little words of purity and whiteness. On her lips there were only little flowers, little birds, little stars, little springs... and souls and wings, and heaven... heaven... heaven. Then, interrupting her babbling from time to time, she pressed my hand more strongly and rested, nestling her head against + + +mine and saying more forcibly: “Oh, my darling! never again, I swear to you! Never again, never again... never again!” Ki−Pai had retired to the corner of the room, and in a low voice was singing a song, one of those songs which put little children to sleep and cradle them in their sleep. “Never again... never again... never again!” repeated Clara, in a slow voice which was lost and melted into the slower and slower song Ki−Pai was singing. And she fell asleep against me, with a calm, clear, and deep sleep—deep as a great, gentle lake under a summer night's moon. Ki−Pai got up gently, noiselessly. “I'm going,” she said. “I'm going to sleep in the sampan. Tomorrow morning, when dawn comes, you will bring my mistress back to the palace. And it will begin all over again! It will always begin all over again!” “Don't say that, Ki−Pai,” I begged. “Just look at her sleeping against me, look at her sleeping so calm and pure a sleep, against me.” The Chinese nodded her grimacing head, and with sad eyes, in + + +which pity had replaced disgust, she murmured: “I see her sleeping against you, and I tell you.—In eight days I'll accompany you both like this evening, on the river, coming from the Torture Garden. And after eight more years I'll accompany you the same way on the river, if you haven't gone away—and if I'm not dead!” She added: “And if I am dead, some one else will accompany you with my mistress, on the river. And if you have gone away, some one else will accompany my mistress on the river. And nothing will be changed.” “Ki−Pai! Ki−Pai! Why do you say that? Look at her sleeping again. You don't know what you're saying!” “Hush!” she said, placing her finger against her mouth. “Don't talk so loud. Don't move so much. Don't wake her up. At least, when she's asleep she can do no evil, either to others or herself.” Walking carefully on tiptoe, like a nurse, she went to the door and opened it. “Get out! Get out!” It was the voice of Ki−Pai, imperious among the buzzing voices of the women. And I could see nothing but painted eyes, painted + + +faces, red mouths, tattooed breasts... and I heard the cries and the moans, the dances, sounds of flutes, the resonance of metal, and that name which ran and panted from mouth to mouth and shook the whole flower−boat like a spasm of love. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” The door closed, the noises were muffled, and the faces disappeared. And I was alone in the room where two lamps burned, draped with pink crepe... alone with Clara who was asleep and from time to time, repeated in her sleep, like a little dreaming child: “Never again! Never again!” And as though to belie those words, a bronze which I had not yet noticed, a fiercely sneering bronze ape crouching in the corner of the room extended towards Clara a monstrous phallus. Ah, if only she might never awake! “Clara! Clara! Clara!” + +Dearest Sylvia + +We arrived here early this morning after a most melancholy journey. Time alone can remove the painful impressions which the appearance of poor Henry created as we parted. Never shall I forget the picture of despair he exhibited. Do all you can to comfort him, tell him although I obey my mother's and my uncle's wishes, still my heart in every clime will be true to him. Poor Eliza did everything in her power on the road to this place to amuse my wounded feelings, but it was beyond the extent of her artless sophistry to remove the weight that pressed upon my heart. Oh, Sylvia! how cruel is the sacrifice exacted in our obedience to our parents; how happy had I been if this uncle of mine had never existed! My mother, my friend, my lover—all, all I hold dear—sacrificed to the prospect of possessing this uncle's wealth. Heaven knows how fondly I dwelt upon the hopes of shortly becoming the happy wife of your brother, you may guess (but I pray that you may never feel) the anguish caused by such a separation. But it is decided. I can now only supplicate heaven for a speedy return. On our arrival we found the captain of the Indiaman anxiously expecting us. The wind having been fair for some hours, if we had not appeared as we did, he would have sailed without us; truly happy should I have been if he had; and if I had known that a trifling delay on the road would have prevented our departure, I most certainly would have created it. + +Adieu, my dear Sylvia, a long adieu. The boat waits to convey us on board at the Momerbank, as the captain calls it Farewell, Sylvia, comfort poor Henry, when I think of him I feel what it is impossible to describe. + +Your unhappy friend, + +EMILY BARLOW + + +LETTER 2 + +Ali, Dey of Algiers, to Muzra, Dey of Tunis + +20 September 1814. + +Muzra, thy friend greets thee, with thanks for thy late present. I allude to the Grecian maid (for so she was) you sent me with the treasure. The bearer of this dispatch has the care of a pair of beautiful stallions which I lately captured from a tribe of Askulites; they made an inroad into a part of my territories from the desert, but I came upon them by surprise, and properly chastised their presumption: not more than a hundred escaped out of two thousand; indeed I was in no humour to spare them, they having disturbed me in a scene of pleasure, for which mere could be no pardon, but more of this hereafter. The Grecian slave, I rejoice to say again, I found a pure maid; her virginity I sacrificed on the Beiram feast of our Holy Prophet. To cull her sweet flower, I was obliged to infuse an opiate in her coffee. Again, and again, I thank you for the present—her beauties are indeed luxurious; in her soft embraces I find a sure solace from my anxieties of state, but how strange it is, Muzra, that these slaves, whose destinies depend on our will, rarely give that fervent return to our pleasure so absolutely necessary to the full voluptuous energy of enjoyment. It is true nature will always exert its power over the softer sex, and they frequently give way to its excitement, but the pleasure they experience is merely animal. Thus it is with Zena (so I have named your present): even in the height of our ecstasies, a cloud seems to hang on her beauteous countenance, clearly indicating that it is nature, not love, that creates her transport. This knowledge considerably diminishes the enjoyment her beauties afford me, yet still she has become extremely necessary to my pleasures. Although the novelty of her charms has gone by, the certainty of having cropped her virgin rose has created a lasting interest in my bosom, which the dissolving lustre and modest, bashful expression of her eyes daily increases—indeed her charms frequently entice me from the arms of another beauty, whom I may say for these last two months I have continually enjoyed without me least abatement of my ardour—on the contrary, my appetite seems to increase by what I feed on. It is true when I think of the pensive charms of Zena I devote a few hours to her arms, but she only acts like the whetstone to the knife, and sends me back to the embraces of my English slave with redoubled vigour and zest. In my next dispatch I will give you an account of my becoming possessed of this girl, who has so enchanted thy friend's desires. May our Prophet have thee in his holy keeping. + +ALI + + +LETTER 3 + +Sylvia Carey to Emily Barlow + +London, 19 June + +Fare thee well, dear Emily, and a safe voyage is the nightly prayer of your now lonely friend. I received your letter of yesterday, and hope you will receive this before you sail. Poor Henry has only been once out of his room since your departure. I will not shock you with an account of his wretchedness, but be assured nothing will be left undone to relieve his sufferings, though I tremble for the result; your mother saw him today, she was much shocked at his dejection; but I trust time will do much, and that you may yet be happy in the possession of each other. The providence that separates may again join. It is useless to despond. Take every opportunity of writing to us, by every ship you meet on your passage! God bless you. + +SYLVIA CAREY + +(This letter Emily never received, the ship having sailed before it arrived at Portsmouth.) + + +LETTER 4 + +Emily Barlow to Sylvia Carey + +Algiers, 24 July 1814 + +Dearest Sylvia—I think I see the expression of surprise you experience on perceiving my letter dated from this place. Oh, God, Sylvia, to what a wretched fate has the intended kindness of my uncle devoted your miserable unfortunate friend. Pity me, Sylvia; pity my wretchedness. You have no doubt heard of the cruel treatment experienced by females who are unfortunate enough to fall into the power of these barbarous Turks, particularly those who have any pretensions to beauty; but it is utterly impossible for you, Sylvia, to conjecture anything like my sufferings since we parted. I shudder with agony when I look back to what I have been forced to undergo. Pity me, my dear friend. My tears blot out the words nearly as quick as I write them. Oh God, Sylvia, I have no longer any claim to chastity. Surely never was poor maid so unfeelingly deprived of her virtue. The very day the accursed pirate brought me to this place did the Dey, with cruel force, in spite of my entreaties, deprive me of my virginity. In vain I resisted with all the strength nature had bestowed on me. It was no use. In vain I made the harem resound with my cries but no help or assistance came to succour your poor friend; at length, wearied out by struggling in defence of my innocence, my strength at last completely failed me, and my powerful ravisher unrelentingly completed my undoing. Oh, Sylvia, your poor friend is now the polluted concubine of this most worthless Turk. + +You no doubt are anxious to hear how I came into his power. The story of my ruin is short. The day after I wrote to you from Portsmouth we sailed down the English Channel with most delightful weather, but in losing sight of land I became extremely seasick, so much so that I could not even crawl upon deck. In this state I continued about three weeks. One day I heard a most unusual noise upon deck, and when I sent Eliza to learn the cause of it, a mate told her that the ship was likely to be attacked by Moorish pirates. You may easily guess our terror at this information, which turned out to be all too true, for shortly the discharge of guns with the shouts of the combatants informed us the work of destruction was begun. The firing continued a considerable time without intermission, and when the discharge of our guns was discontinued, the uproar, cries and groans on the deck became too horrid to describe, or to last long. On a sudden everything became quiet, but a rush we heard coming towards the cabin too surely warned us of our approaching captivity. In an instant the door was burst open, and in rushed a crowd of armed Turks covered with blood. Unable longer to sustain the various emotions with which for the last two hours I had been agitated, and still suffering from the remains of my sickness, I fainted in the arms of Eliza. On recovering my senses I found myself in my berth attended by Eliza, from whom I learned we had been captured by an Algerine corsair, who had ordered every attention to be paid me, and she believed the corsair was making for the Straits of Gibraltar. + +In short, about a week after passing Gibraltar, the firing of a salute announced we were under the walls of Algiers; during the passage to this place I was not troubled with any visit from the captain, but immediately the vessel was safely anchored, he came to the cabin, and ordered us in good English to get ourselves ready to go ashore in the course of half an hour. Hearing him speak English so well, I took this opportunity of enquiring what his intentions were respecting us, but was struck speechless by his answering that his intention was to make a present of us to the Dey! He added he thought I was particularly worthy of that honour. So profound was my horror at this information, that I in vain essayed for several minutes to speak, and had I not found relief in a flood of tears, most certainly my emotions would have been fatal to me. The brute of a captain observed my tears and coolly remarked, 'Oh! oh! waterworks! Ah! ah!' he continued, laughing aloud, 'if you should happen to be a maid, the Dey will make you cry in another way I guess.' He then returned to the deck. I have since learned that this barbarian is an English renegade. + +Poor Eliza appeared as much overcome as myself, for in point of personal attractions few girls could be more well endowed. A strong presentiment of my approaching fate had taken forcible possession of my mind. All Eliza could do or say, brought no relief to my apprehensions. The expiration of this time again brought the captain to the cabin, who, covering us with thick veils, conducted us both on deck. In a few minutes we entered the Watergate of the Dey's harem. It was about half-past six o'clock in the evening of the 12th of this month that I entered this palace, so fatal to my modesty. I had scarcely been in it half an hour ere my virtue received so severe an insult that the complete loss of chastity only could exceed what I suffered. In less than five hours the cruel Dey had thoroughly deprived me of every claim to virginity. But you shall know all, just as it happened. Directly we were in the harem we were rather dragged than led into a most sumptuous chamber, at the far end of which sat the Dey, apparently about forty-five years of age, smoking a peculiar kind of pipe. The captain immediately prostrated himself, and spoke to him in the Turkish language, pointing at the same time to me and Eliza. The Dey surveyed us for a few moments without rising. He then said something to the captain, who rose from his prostrate position, took Eliza by the hand, and led her out of the room. I was about to follow, but was ordered by the captain to remain. Trembling with terror I was forced to obey. + +No sooner were the captain and Eliza withdrawn than the Dey rose from the couch, walked leisurely towards me, and laid hold of my hand, which trembled in his grasp. After considering a few moments, he chucked me under the chin and said in good English that Mahomet had been kind in blessing him with so fair a slave as myself. I was not much surprised to hear the Dey speak English, the captain having spoken it so well, but the terror his address gave me cannot be described, and indeed good reason I had for my apprehensions. Directly he had spoken, he began leading me towards the couch, but I instantaneously drew back, on which without further ceremony he caught me around the waist and in spite of the resistance I made, forced me to it; then, seating himself, he drew me to him and forced me to seat myself upon his knees. If it had been in my power to resist, the excess of my confusion alone would have prevented my throwing any effectual obstacle in the way of his proceedings. Directly he had got me thus he threw one of his arms round my neck, and drew my lips to his, closing my mouth with his audacious kisses. Whilst his lips were as it were glued to mine, he forced his tongue into my mouth in a manner which created a sensation it is quite impossible to describe. It was the first liberty of the kind I ever sustained. + +You may guess the shock it at first gave me, but you will scarcely credit it when I own that my indignation was not of long continuance. Nature, too powerful nature, had become aroused and assisted his lascivious proceedings, conveying his kisses, brutal as they were, to the inmost recesses of my heart On a sudden, new and wild sensations blended with my shame and rage, which exerted themselves but faintly; in fact, Sylvia, in a few short moments his kisses and his tongue threw my senses into a complete tumult and an unknown fire rushed through every part of me, hurried on by a strange pleasure. All my loud cries dwindled into gentle sighs, and in spite of my inward rage and grief, I could not resist; wanting strength for self-defence, I could only bewail my situation. I told you he had me on his knees, with one of his arms round my neck. Finding how little I resisted, and having me thus with our lips closely joined, his other hand he suddenly thrust under my petticoats. Incensed by this vital insult, I strove to break from his arms, but it was of no use. He held me firm, my cries and reproaches he heeded not! If by my struggles I contrived to free my lips, they were quickly regained again; thus with his hand and his lips he kept me in the greatest disorder, whilst in proportion as it increased I felt my fury and strength diminish. At last a dizzy sensation seized on every sense. I felt his hand rapidly divide my thighs, and quickly one of his fingers penetrated that place which, God knows, no male hand had ever before touched. If anything was wanting to complete my confusion, it was the thrilling sensation I felt, caused by the touches of his finger. What a dreadful moment was this for my virtue! with all the highest notions of the charms of that dear innocence which I was doomed to be so soon deprived of, dreading even in my soul's disorder nothing so much as losing it, how strange then it was that pleasure should not be overcome by such fears. Why did they not instantly snatch me from the pleasure? I wished some help would come to save me from the danger, but I no sooner formed the wish than a kiss and his finger created a contrary emotion, and each following kiss grew more and more pleasing, till at last I almost wished nothing might oppose my absolute defeat. In blushing at what I felt, I blush to write, I longed to feel more. Without an idea what that which I panted for could be, I eagerly awaited the instruction, until the impetuous ardour began to be too powerful for the senses. + +Finding that I made no attempt to withdraw my lips from his thrilling pressure, his arm which was around my neck he removed to my waist, thus drawing me more strongly to his bosom; his right arm became closely confined between his body and mine, my hand being placed and held firmly between his thighs. Whilst in this position, I felt something beneath his clothes gradually enlarging and moving against my hand; from the length I felt it against my arm, I judged it to be very long and thick also. If I had wished to remove my hand from its position I could not; and so wonderful was the fascination I felt from the mere touch of this unknown object, I think I could not have removed my hand had it been perfectly at liberty. Without knowing what it was, every throb created in me a tremor unaccountable. I little dreamed the dreadful anguish I was doomed to experience by that which my hand was warming and raising to life. + +By this time the Dey had satisfied himself of my being a virgin. Sunk though I was in sensual lethargy, I had not been able to silence an unfortunate monitor within my breast who, though hitherto unsuccessful, was yet reproaching me for my weakness. The Dey, fully perceiving the impression he had made, resolved to take immediate advantage of it. But how shall I describe what I still blush to think of, but it must be done. He withdrew his hand from between my thighs, forced me on my back on the couch, and in an instant turned up my clothes above my navel. Thus all my secret charms became exposed to his view. Exhausted as I was and lost in desire, I could make no further resistance. His hands quickly divided my thighs and he got between them. During my struggles my neckerchief had become loose and disordered. He now entirely removed it, leaving my neck and breast quite bare. + +Although I could scarcely keep my eyes open from the tumult of my senses, still I could not help observing as he was on his knees between my thighs that he was divesting himself of his lower garments. For the first time in my life I caught a view of that terrible instrument, that fatal foe to virginity. With unutterable sensations I felt his naked glowing body join mine, again my lips were glued to his, softening me to ruin with his inflamed suctions. In a delirium little short of pleasure, panting with desire, I waited my coming fate. (I really think if at this moment he had completed my seduction, I should not have regretted my loss of virtue; but no, it was decreed that on being deprived of my innocence I should be entirely free of all those soft desires he had so powerfully excited, and that I should suffer during my defloration every anguish a maid can feel, personal as well as mental. But to my unfortunate tale.) The Dey had properly fixed himself to do that which I ought but certainly at that moment did not dread. No, even as his daring hand fixed the head of his terrible instrument where his lascivious fingers had so potently assisted in reducing me to my then passive state, I own I felt it even with pleasure stiffly distending my until that moment untouched modesty. But on the very instant when I had willingly resigned everything to what I then considered my fixed destiny, his eyes, whose lustre and expression I could scarcely sustain of, on a sudden were filled with languor. He seemed as it were abashed, and kissing me with less violence, he grew by degrees even weaker than myself. Suddenly I felt my thighs overflowed by something warm that spurted in torrents from his instrument. At last he sank in my arms in a kind of trance. + +The Day's weakness continuing, my confusion began to dissipate so much that by making an effort I found no difficulty in disengaging myself from his arms. I got off the couch. As I grew composed and capable of recollection, the more I became sensible of my shame, together with the dreadful shock my modesty had experienced. A melancholy seized me. I shuddered at what I was likely to encounter judging by what I had already experienced. However, I returned thanks to heaven for my present escape. By this time I had adjusted my dress and the Dey had done the same thing and, coming up to me, he again placed his arm around my waist. Hardly recovered from my first confusion, I trembled for fear the same scene was again commencing, but fortunately I was deceived. He only kissed my cheek in a manner which had nothing displeasing in it, and said, as well as I can recollect, 'Lovely Christian, it is not the pleasure of our Holy prophet that I should at present be indulged in the enjoyment of your beauties, but when I return from a journey I am about to make, I shall no doubt be able to do justice to your charms. Until my return I shall order everything for your pleasure and amusement. But come,' he continued, 'I will conduct you to the apartment I intend you shall occupy.' I now summoned up courage to address him, although I could scarcely look in his face. I told him my exact situation, of my affection for Henry, that no doubt my uncle would pay a very high ransom if I was released without any further attempts against my virtue. This I threw out to tempt his cupidity, supposing, as I always understood the Algerines to be a most rapacious set of men, the hopes of gaining a large sum would induce him to spare me. He listened very patiently to all I advanced. Encouraged by his attention, I proceeded to add entreaties and supplications supported by tears, but on a sudden he drew me to his bosom and kissed away my tears, replying in these decisive words—'It cannot be; it is in vain you plead; your fate is fixed. I would not part with you for all the treasure of the combined world, let alone what one individual could produce. Do not indulge yourself, lovely one, with any vain hopes of ransom, for if the Commander of the Faithful was to order it, I would not part with you. The delicious odour of your virgin flower is reserved for my enjoyment In a few days I shall return, and then, lovely houri, you must resign yourself without reluctance or coyness to my fierce desires, and in return I will teach you such sweet pleasure that you will soon cease to regret having been thrown in my power. How could you for a moment imagine I should be foolish enough to resign beauties such as yours to the arms of a rival, too? to let a favoured Christian pluck your maiden rose. No, sweet virgin, the soft pleasure is surely reserved for me,' and he drew my lips to his; 'it is I that am doomed to cull the flower. To me belongs the delightful task of transforming you into a finished woman, and cropping that delicate treasure, so much sought after, but so seldom found.' My heart entirely failed me at the decided refusal, and he led me trembling to the apartments I was to occupy. They consisted of a suite of three rooms, situated at the end of a long gallery. As we entered he explained to me the use of each room. + +The first was the general apartment for eating or receiving company in, the second for dressing, whilst the third and innermost one was the bedroom; this last could be approached only through the other two rooms—at least so it appeared to me. In the bedroom were three large windows. On examination I found them to look out to the sea, which was beating the walls underneath at a great depth. There was no possibility of any approach or escape on that side. Whilst I was gazing at the shipping in the harbour, the Dey seized my hand and gently drew me towards the bed, which was in one of the corners of the room, made of large velvet cushions in the most magnificent style, after the Eastern fashion. The two sides of the wall which formed the angle in which the bed was placed were entirely covered with looking-glass, as was the ceiling above. A sudden trembling seized me on viewing the fatal bed, which the Dey observing, he took me in his arms and kissing me said, 'On my return I shall soon release you from all these tremblings and fear.' He kept his word, but it was much sooner than I expected or than he promised. After he had pointed out all the conveniences of the room, together with their several uses, he gave me a key, informing me it was the key of my sleeping apartment. He then took me in his arms, covering my lips and neck with kisses, and bid me to expect his return in a week, by which time, he said, he had no doubt of my entire submission to his desires. The way these intimations were given was so peculiar and new to me, combining so much of me authority of a master, that it was entirely out of my power to make any reply, and he left me. The first thing I did when he was gone was to inspect me door of the bedroom. To my great joy I found the lock was on the inside and the key being in my possession I felt comparatively safe. + +I next examined the room most attentively, and after a strict searching felt convinced there was no other entrance but the door, it being entirely impossible for anyone to approach by the windows. I was much relieved in mind after this inspection. + +Just as I had finished my examination, in came four female slaves whom the Dey had appointed to attend me. One of them spoke English. I enquired of her if I could have Eliza, but was informed me Dey considered her too handsome to be an attendant. At present she was considered one of his mistresses, and would remain so if she was found worthy of that honour by being still a maid. This information caused me to sigh for poor Eliza. The slaves now brought all kinds of refreshments, of which I stood much in need. + +After dinner I retired to the bedroom, and seated myself on a couch in one of the recesses of the windows; the prospect was beautiful; the sun had just sunk on me western horizon behind the white terraces of the city but still there was sufficient light to discern everything going on in the harbour, and on the mole—indeed the scene was delightful; for a few moments my unfortunate state was forgotten. I was disturbed by the slave who spoke English bringing in a parcel of English books, with a silver bell to ring should I want anything. Whilst she was in the room a discharge of guns took place from the castle and batteries, and she informed me that whenever the Dey left or returned to the city he was always saluted in that way. She further added he was not expected to return for a fortnight. Feeling assured I should not be troubled by the Dey for some time, and finding myself much overcome from what I had undergone, I rang for lights, determined to retire to bed. Directly they understood my intentions, the slaves came round me for the purpose of undressing me, but I commanded them to retire, which they did, after placing everything for my service. I then locked the door, determined on again searching the room; still finding nothing to create any fear, I proceeded to undress myself, but at the very moment I had taken off my chemise, preparatory to putting on night linen, you may guess my terror on hearing a noise by the side of the bed. Ere I could have turned my head I found myself in the arms of the Dey, who was as naked as myself. Oh, God! you cannot imagine my terror and despair at this moment. You see how I was lulled into security that I might become an easy victim. I felt assured the Dey had left Algiers—the firing of the guns, the slave's account, was all trumped up to lull me to my ruin, all invented to throw me off my guard; in short, he allowed me no time for reflection. Defenceless and naked in his arms, I was carried to the bed and thrown down on it. My shrieks must have been heard through the palace but no help was nigh to prevent my ruin. What could a feeble maid like myself effect against so powerful an antagonist? nothing—for in less time than it takes to write it, he forcibly extended my thighs and placed himself between them. Oh, God! even now, when it is all over, and recompensed as I have most certainly been for my sufferings, I tremble at the bare recollection of the dreadful anguish I suffered when he reduced my chastity to a bleeding ruin. I soon found it was useless to struggle or resist, I was a mere child in his arms; as to strength, he moved and placed me just as was convenient to his pleasure. I quickly felt his finger again introducing the head of that terrible engine I had before felt, and which now felt like a pillar of ivory entering me. + +Directly he had secured its head within me, he withdrew his hand, placed his arm round my neck, and drew my lips to his. At this moment I was nearly insensible to everything he did, so much were my feelings overcome by fear and shame. But I was not doomed to remain long in this state, for I quickly felt him forcing his way into me, with a fury that caused me to scream with anguish. My petitions, supplications and tears were of no use. I was on the altar, and, butcher-like, he was determined to complete the sacrifice; indeed, my cries seemed only to excite him to the finishing of my ruin, and sucking my lips and breasts with fury, he unrelentingly rooted up all obstacles my virginity offered, tearing and cutting me to pieces, until the complete junction of our bodies announced that the whole of his terrible shaft was buried within me. I could bear the dreadful torment no longer: uttering a piercing cry I sank insensible in the arms of my cruel ravisher. How long I continued in this happy state of insensibility, I know not, but I was brought back to life feeling the same thrilling agony which caused my fainting. Still grasped in his arms, I felt him moving up and down upon me with a force and energy that made me feel every motion of the instrument which I was impaled upon like the cutting of a knife. Every thrust he made was followed by some ejaculation, such as, 'Delicious creature, how tight she is! Holy Mahomet, I thank you. Oh! Ah! who would be without it. There sweet infidel,' as he drove himself up to the hilt in me, with many other words in the Turkish language which I did not understand, until the fury of his thrusts became so cruelly savage that I a second time fainted. + +Stretched beyond bearing, as I may say I was, by the instrument of my martyrdom before my second fainting, I now in spite of my suffering could not help being considerably surprised at the very great alteration I experienced, although I most sensibly felt it, but still it had lost most of that fierce stiffness with which it first tore me to pieces. Whilst my mind was thus occupied with reflections on this novel change, my astonishment was augmented by feeling it as it were, by degrees, assuming all its former strength and erection within me, while the Dey was amusing himself with sucking my lips, me nipples of my breasts, and arranging my hair over my shoulders and bosom, in various ways to please his fancy, also moving my face into different positions, as he said, to see which way it appeared the most lovely—until the return of the same cruel distention of the parts painfully informed me his instrument had recovered its fierce condition. The Dey now withdrew it all but the head, which he left between the lips of the sheath, which it had so lately formed for itself, and having with his hand satisfied himself as to its strength for performing the third assault, he withdrew his hand and keeping me firmly to his bosom, at one tremendous thrust drove it up into me, distending the tender, wounded and torn parts, until the mutual mixture of our hair stopped his further progress. He now lay for some time quiet in my arms, to all appearance from his various exclamations swimming in a sea of pleasure, sucking my breast and neck, until they became quite sore; all the time I lay gasping and stretched beyond bearing. Soon again I felt me commencement of his dreadful thrusts—at first, to be sure, they were not quite so fierce; but as his feelings were excited by enjoyment, so did the fury of his movements increase. I could not restrain my cries, and just at the moment his lunges were creating an anguish intolerable, a loud knocking at his door caused the Dey to jump from my arms. So dreadful was the anguish from the sudden way in which the cause of my suffering was withdrawn from me, that I again fainted. When I recovered, I found myself tying in the arms of the Dey, who was anxiously watching over me. He then informed me that the disturbance which had forced him so precipitately to leave my embraces was occasioned by one of his eunuchs coming to inform him of a sudden invasion of part of his territories by some Arabs which rendered it necessary he should immediately proceed to join his troops; but he swore by his Prophet severely to chastise them for disturbing him in a scene of pleasure so truly delicious—so he termed my ruin and shame. After kissing me over and over again, and bestowing various other caresses, he arose and retired through a sliding panel by the bedside, leaving me in the theatre of my undoing overpowered with anguish, more dead than alive. My sufferings, weakness and agitation soon threw me into slumber, in which my ruin and misery were for a time forgotten. Dreadful, indeed, were my sufferings in being deflowered. Never was poor maid so unceremoniously debauched, nor is it possible for anyone to suffer more cruel anguish than I did, in receiving my first lesson from this powerful Turk. + +I did not awake from the refreshing sleep I so soundly fell into until late next morning. Upon attempting to rise, I found I was unable, from the dreadful stiffness of the parts that had been so terribly and unmercifully stretched. Unable to rise, I was obliged to remain in the scene of my undoing until the slaves came to awake me. With their assistance I got out of bed. Had you seen the sheets, you would indeed have pitied your poor friend. I found by the care, tenderness and respect with which I was treated that the Dey's orders respecting me must have been very particular. + +I learned that he was not expected to return for some time. This news, being unexpected on my part, acted as reprieve would upon a condemned criminal. It, of course, contributed considerably to soothe my wounded feelings; but at the end of a week, just as the flurry of my spirits had in some measure subsided to a degree of composure, I was again thrown into a state of alarm on being informed of his return, as well as his intention to pass that very night with me. I had just retired to bed when the communication was made to me, and his orders were scarcely delivered ere he was in my chamber. The news of his arrival had thrown me into a kind of stupor, from which I did not recover until his fierce kisses brought me to a sense of collection, when I found my second martyrdom was about to commence. You may be assured, from what I have already described of him, that I had nothing to expect from supplication or entreaties; still I did not fail to use them, supported by torrents of tears. These he paid no regard to, but took me in his arms, drawing me to his bosom and calling me foolish and silly to make such opposition to his pleasures. 'Reason a little,' said he, drawing my lips to his, 'consider the indispensable necessity that all loving creatures like yourself are under to lose the sweet flower I so lately gathered from you, which seems to have been so dear to you; consider the great end that nature has created you for, give over these unavailing tears, which only delay your tasting of the sweetest joys. Then you talk about your virtue—pray, can you tell me in what it consists?' cried he, sucking my lips. I could only answer with tears. 'Do you think,' said he, 'if I enjoy you against your will, you are a bit the less virtuous? Or is it possible,' he continued, 'that you are so simple as to believe that virtue depends upon any part of your beautiful body being a little larger or a little less. Of what consideration can it be to Ali whether this part is opened or unopened by man?' and to make me understand the part he meant, he forced his hand between my thighs, where his fiery touches left me in no doubt as to the part he alluded to. He then was proceeding to place me in a situation convenient to satisfy his desires, but because I resisted his attempts, he flew upon me like a tiger, forcibly turned me on my back and divided my thighs; indeed, I found resistance of no avail. + +The few days he had been absent seemed to have augmented his desires into a kind of frenzy. I cannot give you anything like a description of my sufferings as he now again forced his dreadful engine into me. The pain I felt was as cruel as when he first deflowered me. The chamber resounded with my shrieks. But he heeded them not; on the contrary, he increased the fury of his thrusts. Three times in the course of a quarter of an hour did I faint in his arms from the dreadful anguish. On recovering I found, during my last insensibility, he had got off me. I cannot tell whether my tears and cries had made any impression on him, or what induced him to get out of bed; but he went to a closet in the room, where I plainly saw him anointing his instrument out of the contents of a small jar. After cleansing his hands, he returned to bed. It was not long ere he again got between my thighs. I lay trembling, expecting the cruel torment; but guess my astonishment when instead of experiencing the thrilling pain which had before always accompanied his penetration I felt him drive it into me up to the very hilt comparatively with no more pain than made me cry out two or three 'Ohs'; but I still felt an extreme tightness accompanied with heated stretching. When I had received him up to the very quick, he tenderly kissed me, and asked if he hurt as much as before. I could not answer such a question, but I believe my blushes must have satisfied him on the point. Indeed, so great was the difference I now felt that I sustained this assault with very little suffering, until nature, unable longer to bear the tumult of pleasure with which the Dey seemed agitated, assisted him, and I for the first time felt with indescribable emotion something warm flowing from him in rapid streams, which deliciously cooled the parts he had so potently warmed. As I felt the last drop ejected from him, he sank on my bosom, without the least sign of animation, stretching himself out to his utmost length, which was the means of drawing his instrument from within me. It hung between my thighs quite bereft of all its power and erection, apparently as lifeless as its owner. + +The reason of my escape from his first attack, the night I was brought to the harem, was now sufficiently explained to me. It was not long ere he recovered from his trance. I now perceived a wonderful attention in his behaviour. All his commanding and imperious looks had given way to respectful impassioned regards, although he still did just what he pleased; but there was some change in his manner of acting that I could not in any way account for. Remarkable as I found his attention, it was exceeded by what I soon experienced. Spite of my love for poor Henry, or the repugnance I naturally felt against the Dey as the violator of my chastity—spite of my sufferings in his furious embraces the difference of our religion and ages—can you credit what I felt, even at this early time of my undoing? I blush to write and confess it, but I am obliged to own I felt a voluptuous softness in his kisses, which acted as a balm, soothing me for the pains I had suffered. It is true my lips did not as yet return his pressures, but they submissively received them, inhaling every moment a dissolving poison, which quickly spread through my veins. + +By this time I was aware, from the excessive hardness of his instrument, which was now lying on my belly, that it had recovered its wanton life and vigour, and presently the movement of his right hand gave notice I was again about to receive it. But how shall I describe my emotion when, for the first time, I felt it enter me without the smallest particle of pain, with no more difficulty than the mere widening, as he penetrated and stretched each soft furrow, until the whole was completely sheathed and we reached the most complete union without my uttering anything more than a few tremulous sighs—which I could not prevent escaping me in view of the unutterable rapture which the fierce suction created, a sensation which, from being entirely new, was so deliriously indefinable. Do not think me a wanton for thus stating what I experienced. Believe me, I had not the power to resist the soft pleasure he now caused me to taste by the sweet to-and-fro friction of his voluptuous engine. + +You, Sylvia, who are yet, I believe, an inexperienced maid, can have no conception of the seductive powers of this wonderful instrument of nature—this terror of virgins, but delight of women. Indeed there can be no description given of the pure delight, I may even say agony of enjoyment, excited by the excessive friction which the rapidity of its thrusts caused. I was soon taught that it was the uncontrolled master key of my feelings. My trembling it quickly banished; my confusion became breathless astonishment, which with the rapidity of lightning changed to a respect for my enjoyer so submissive in its nature that I already looked upon him as the disposer of my future destiny, and my soul became completely and securely resigned to him as he enjoyed my soft body and instructed me in the softest pleasure nature can participate in. My heart, my soul, my very being was melted by his thrilling thrusts, until at last my recollection failed me. I lost sight, and then again sank insensible in his arms, but from a very different cause from my other faintness. + +I recovered from this lethargy of pleasure only to be again thrown into the same dissolving state, for the Dey, charmed with my entire submission, seemed determined that nothing should be wanting on his part to make my bliss complete. Being entirely relieved of pain, I swam in the sea of thrilling delight and enjoyment only known to the young maids just released from the pangs of expiring virginity. With these all my pains and fears vanished, together with the remains of my virgin bashfulness, the only thing that could throw any obstacle in the way of this luxurious novelty which so ravishingly filled my soul with ecstasy and astonishment. Although I yet had scarcely summed up courage to look my enjoyer in the face, the warmth of my caresses and tenderness of my kisses, the voluptuous agitation of my whole body, all sufficiently satisfied him how firmly the pleasure had fixed its seductive influence on my senses; and in the midst of our enjoyment, at the very moment he had worked my feelings into a state of delirium indescribable, he suddenly stopped his ravishing, luxurious movements, and kissing me with a softness that rushed thrilling to my heart, said, 'Lovely houri, will you pardon me for the little respect I paid you in teaching you the mysteries of love?' Nearly fainting with the joy I possessed, I languishingly, for the first time, ventured to lift my eyes full in the face of my seducer but, unable to bear the brilliant lustre of his eyes, I hid my blushes in his bosom, where he felt his pardon sealed by a burning kiss. This unequivocal and tender acknowledgement of his power over me rekindled all his nearly satisfied desires, and, drawing my lips to his with a gust of passion time can never obliterate the remembrance of, he made me feel him in a manner so exquisitely touching, by such lovely and timely degrees, that I blessed the happy chance that had thrown me into his powerful arms. + +In this manner was a great part of the night spent, until exhausted nature requiring a truce to our conflicts, we unconsciously fell asleep in each other's arms. In the morning I awoke first; the Dey was tying on his back, with one of his arms under his head, the other by his side. There was not the slightest particle of bedclothes on either of us. In my sleep the pillow had got from under my head; on raising myself to replace it, I caught a glimpse of that terrible machine which had so furiously agitated me with pain and pleasure. I assure you, Sylvia, I could not look at it without considerable remains of terror, but my alarm was strongly mixed up with feelings of tenderness and respect I thought my eyes would now be satisfied with inspecting it, but was much disappointed with its present appearance. It hung over his thigh shrunk up into a small size, seemingly perfectly incapable of exciting the various sensations I had so potently felt However, reduced as it was in appearance, it had the same power of fascination over me which is attributed to the serpent's eye over the bird. I could not withdraw mine from it, and so intense was my survey that I did not observe the Dey had awoke, and was enjoying my abstraction of mind. + +His laughing at me broke the spell which the sight I was engaged in had worked round my senses. To be caught in this occupation, you may be sure, threw me into infinite confusion; every part of me was covered with blushes, which I strived to hide in the bedclothes; but he took me in his arms, still laughing, covering me with kisses, and told me I had seen everything at a great disadvantage, but I should presently be gratified by a view which would please me. This kind of discourse, instead of diminishing, added to my confusion. But, to crown all, he seized my right hand, and, with gentle compulsion, forced into it what may be termed nature's grand masterpiece. I faintly struggled as I received it, but he was determined I should observe the effect of my hand on his sensible part. At first it was as soft as a piece of sponge, but immediately it felt the warmth of my pressure, it began to throb, then to expand, and in a few moments that which at first I held with ease became a column of ivory, which I declare I could not even grasp. As he drew my hand up and down, it every moment seemed to increase in strength and length, until it attained so magnificent an erection that I could scarcely credit my sight. Is it possible, said I to myself, that so tremendous a pillar could have been buried within me? My other hand, governed by my thoughts, strayed between my thighs to examine the possibility of my entertaining such a guest. This movement of my hand in an instant discovered my thoughts to the Dey, 'What,' said he, drawing me to his bosom, 'do you doubt the possibility? Come, come, I shall soon remove your doubts; besides it is just you should reap the crop your hand has raised. Saying this, he softly turned me on my back, and got between my thighs, which I now willingly extended to receive him. Seeing my hair was in considerable confusion from our overnight's conflict, he leisurely placed it in order, laying the curls on my neck and breasts in the manner he thought most tempting. Having finished this employment, with his right hand he seized my left and, forcing it between his thighs, told me to pilot the vessel, as: he called it, safe into port. You may guess how completely he had subdued and mastered my feelings when I tell you, Sylvia, that I instantly obeyed his directions. When he felt I had lodged it between the lips, he withdrew my hand, and I quickly felt the fierce insertion up to the quick. The narrowness was now no more than what heightened the pleasure of the Dey in the strict embraces of that tender, warm sheath round the instrument that had made it fit for that which it was so luxuriously adapted. After three or four thrusts, which he made, as it were, to satisfy me as to its being entirely engulfed, he directed me to place my legs over his back. I instantly did as he requested. As a reward for my compliance, he drew out his shaft, all but the head, then drove it home into me eight or nine times in rapid succession, until I was stirred beyond bearing by the furious agitation it caused within me. I lay gasping, gorged and crammed to suffocation with rapture, till his short breathings, faltering accents, eyes twinkling with humid fires, and lunges more furious with increased stiffness gave me full notice of the approach of the dissolving period. It came—he died away on my bosom, distilling a flood within me that shot into the innermost recesses of my body, every conduit of which was upon the flow to meet and voluptuously to mix with his melting essence. As our mutual juices met and became one fluid, I sank insensible, drowned in a sea of delight of which words can convey no description. + +Thus passed the second night of my undoing. After he had left me in the morning, and reason had resumed its empire, I was fully sensible of my deviation from strict virtue in the return I had made to his pleasure. This for a time filled my mind with melancholy thoughts, but I reflected it was the will of Heaven that my virginity should be reserved for the Dey. It was a thing settled by fate, that he should possess it, and I soon became entirely resigned, ceasing to reproach myself about that which I had no control over. The next day I was introduced to three of his other ladies—one French, one Italian, and one Greek. They were all lovely. The Grecian is named Zena, and I think I never beheld anything so lovely. She appeared about seventeen years of age, fair as a lily, with all the charms and freshness of her age, whilst the modest languish of her fine dark eyes, combined with a settled melancholy, gave an interesting appearance to her countenance which made her look peculiarly attractive. I felt great interest in this young girl, and will give you an outline of her history, and also that of the French and Italian ladies. I shall begin with the Italian, who spoke French equally as well as the Frenchwoman herself, and who related to me the short history of her coming into the possession of the Dey. I shall relate just as she repeated it to me. She was a most lovely woman, gracefully formed, with fine black languishing eyes, capable of creating the greatest interest; but she appeared of delicate health; her voice was tender, her mouth was rather large, but her admirably made lips with regular teeth, quite hid the defect; so fine and beautiful a head of hair I think I never saw; in fact, her person altogether was sufficient to create desire in the bosom of age itself. She related her story in nearly the following words: + +'The city of Genoa, where I was born, has been always famed above any town in Europe for the refinement of its gallantry. It is common there for a gentleman to profess himself the humble servant of a handsome woman and to wait upon her to serve in every public place for twenty years together without ever seeing her in private or being entitled to any greater favour than a kind look or a touch of her fair hand. Of all this sighing tribe, the most constant, and the most respectful of all those I knew was Signer Ludovico, my lover. My name is Honoria Grimaldi, I am the only daughter of a senator of that name, and I was esteemed a very great beauty in Genoa, but at the same time quite a prude, and most reserved.' The remark made me laugh, for she had the look of a very great libertine. 'You may smile, but so great was nicety then, in point of love, that although I could not be insensible to the address of Signer Ludovico, yet I could not bring myself to think of marrying my lover, which would have admitted him to freedoms which I thought entirely inconsistent with true modesty—freedoms which then, I assure you, made me shudder to think of.' + +I here asked whether the Dey had not rectified her ideas on that point. She blushed and sighed, 'Indeed, Madame, he was not long in effecting that change of opinion. In vain, Madame, did Ludovico speak of the violence of his passion for me. I answered that mine for him was no less so. But it was his mind I loved; I enjoyed that without having to go to bed with him, the very thought of which shocked and alarmed me. My lover was ready to despair at these discourses; he could not but admire such fine sentiments, yet he wished I had not been so perfect. He wrote me a long, melancholy letter. I returned him one for answer in verses, full of sublime expressions about my love, but not a word that tended to satisfy the poor man's impatience. At last he applied himself to my father, and to engage him to use his authority, offered to take me without a portion. My father, who was a plain man, was mighty pleased with this proposal, and made no difficulty to promise him success. Accordingly he very roughly told me that I must be married the next day or go to a nunnery. This dilemma startled me very much. In spite of all my repugnance to the marriage bed, I found something about me extremely averse to a cloister. An absolute separation from Ludovico was what I could not bear; it was even worse than absolute conjunction. In this distress, not knowing what to do, I turned over about a hundred romances in search for precedents. After many struggles with myself, I resolved to surrender upon terms; therefore, I told my lover I consented to be his wife, provided I might be so by degrees, and that after the ceremony was over he should not pretend at once to all the rights and privileges of a husband, but allow my modesty to make a decent and gradual surrender. Ludovico did not much like such a capitulation, but rather than not have me, he was content to pay the last compliment to my delicacy. We were united, and at the end of the first month he was happy to find himself arrived at full enjoyment of my lips. + +'Whilst he was thus gaining ground, inch by inch, his father died, and left him a large estate in Corsica. His presence was necessary there, but he could not think of parting with me, so we embarked together, and Ludovico had good hopes that he should not take possession of his estate only, but of my virginity too, at his arrival. Whether it was that Venus, who is said to have been born out of the sea, was more powerful mere than on land, or whether it was from the freedom that is usual on board a ship, but whatever the reason it is sure that during the voyage I indulged him in greater liberties than he ever presumed to take before, for my neck and breasts were moulded by his bold hand. But while he was thus by degrees, as it were, reducing me to his wishes, fortune, who took a pleasure in persecuting him, brought an African corsair in our way, who quickly put an end to our dalliance by making us both slaves. Who can express our affliction and despair at so sudden and ill-timed a captivity? Ludovico saw himself bereft of his virgin bride on the very point of obtaining all his wishes, and I had reason to apprehend from the rough hands I had fallen into that my virginity was likely to be taken from me, whether I resisted or not. But the martyrdom I looked for on the instant was unexpectedly deferred, for the corsair, seeing I was handsome, thought me worthy of the embraces of the Dey, and to him I was presented on our arrival here—unfortunate end to all my pure and heroic sentiments! The time was now arrived when I was doomed to be courted in a manner opposite to that adopted by Ludovico. My being a married woman was known to my captor, and was a fact which, of course, he communicated to the Dey. He naturally supposed me to be a finished woman. When I was brought to him he appeared much struck with my appearance, and instantly ordered everyone out of the apartment; then, rising off the couch he was sitting on, he took my hand and led me towards it. On approaching it to my great astonishment he desired me in good Italian to be seated. I obeyed trembling, and he seated himself by my side. Directly he had seated himself he took hold of one of my hands, and demanded from what part of Italy I came. From the mildness of his speech and manner, I thought I could assume the same authority with him as I had done with Ludovico, so would scarcely answer any of his questions, whereupon the Dey, seeing the more tender and respectful his behaviour was, the more I presumed on his forbearance, suddenly seized me round the waist, and drawing my lips forcibly to his, continued sucking them with such force that he nearly made me faint. The suddenness of the attack threw me into extreme confusion. Ere I recovered from it, the Dey had uncovered my breasts and was handling them just as he pleased, exclaiming every moment, as he pressed and handled them, "By Mahomet, how deliciously formed they are! how firm! how delightfully the nipples pout!" and such-like observations, which covered me with burning blushes. + +'By this time I had recovered somewhat from my confusion, observing which the Dey, rising from the coach, said, in a low, determined tone, "How now, audacious slave, do you presume to oppose the will of thy master? Show again the least opposition to my desires and in an instant I shall have thee scourged properly for thy presumption. So mark me, slave!" After this menace he again seated himself and drew me upon his knees, with his arms round my waist. His determined manner of treating me had such an effect that I dared not resist his forcing his hand again into my breasts; but after he had sufficiently satisfied himself with feeling and moulding them, he suddenly turned his hands under my petticoats. His threats were now forgotten; I again strenuously resisted and struggled, whereupon he immediately desisted, and getting off the couch, with a small whistle which hung on his belt, he called in his black eunuchs, to one of whom he gave some orders in the Turkish language; the fellow went out, but quickly returned with a whip, which had about a dozen tails. I was now seized by the two eunuchs, who forced me across the couch with my face downwards; each of the eunuchs held me over the couch by the arm, so that I could not possibly get away. Having me thus secure and unmindful of my tears or entreaties, the Dey lifted up my clothes, and threw them all over my shoulders, leaving everything below my waist as naked as when I was born. Would you believe it, Madame, he began to flog me in so unmerciful a manner that I could not retain my screams, of which he took not the least notice until he thought he had sufficiently punished my first offence. He then left off, and demanded if I would dare to oppose his wishes again. I could not at the moment have answered him, even if death had been the consequence. However, he allowed me very little time, but recommenced his flogging again, saying, "Oh, you are sullen are you? but I shall soon subdue you." Indeed, so painfully did I feel his lashes that at last I was able to cry that I would be submissive to his desires. + +'I was directly relieved from the position I was in, and the eunuchs were dismissed, when the Dey, just as if nothing had happened, placed himself by my side; but, seeing I sat extremely uneasily from the soreness of the part he had so unmercifully whipped, he caused me to lie down on my side, laying himself beside me. He then drew me to his bosom and after kissing away my tears, sucking my lips and forcing his tongue into my mouth (which created great disgust in me), presently demanded if I was not married, I shuddered out an affirmative. "Curses on the Christian dog, I say, that has plucked your virginity!" he replied; "by Ali, I would have possessed it." You may be sure, Madame, this made me blush, which made him remark how much my blushes increased my beauty. Again my lips became his prey. "How long have you been joined to the Christian dog?" demanded he, withdrawing his lips to let me answer him. I stammered out, "Only a month." "A month have thy blushes, then, been polluted. Well, I must be content with you as you are. Indeed, you are a feast fit for a monarch. How languishingly delicious is the modest cast of your eyes! Kiss me, trembler!" I dared not disobey, and, covered with blushes, joined my lips to his. He seemed much pleased with my obedience, and continued for some time most passionately kissing me. Whilst thus occupied, he slipped his right hand again under my petticoats and shift. A dreadful trembling seized me, but my fears prevented the least resistance, whilst his burning hand travelled over my most secret charms. Here was a change, Madame, from the respect of poor Ludovico! The smallest favour was not granted to him until after the most urgent persuasions, whilst the Dey took every liberty he thought fit, and I believe thought he was conferring an honour upon me. He had now got his hand between my thighs and, drawing my lips closer to his, he desired me to open them a little wider, that he might have full command of the shrine of pleasure where he said he meant presently to sacrifice. I did not at the moment obey him. "How now," he cried, changing his tone from the soliciting to the commanding, "darest thou neglect my orders?" Oh, Madame, the gradual extension of my thighs plainly spoke my fears. My tears flowed in torrents; my breasts heaved in convulsive agony. For a moment or so the Dey played with the soft down that crowns the mount of pleasure, and then slipped his finger between the lips of the road which until then had never been travelled, little dreaming of the discovery he was about to make. Indeed, on forcing his finger as far as he could into me, with great astonishment he found some difficulty in effecting entry, his efforts making me cry out that he hurt me. Surprised at my cries, he instantly started up, and forcing me on my back, extended my thighs to their utmost width, "Why, by Mahomet, you are a maid!" he cried, as he minutely examined me. "What punishment do you think you deserve for thus deceiving me as to your virginity?" Trembling and panting with shame and fear, I replied that I had not deceived him, as he had only asked how long I had been married, and I had told him the truth. "Then how is it," he demanded, "that your husband has not reaped his rights?" I at last confessed my maiden bashfulness had been the reason. At this the Dey laughed heartily, saying, "Whatever is the cause, holy Mahomet, I thank you for this unexpected treasure, but it shall not hang long on the stock for want of plucking." He then got off the couch, also assisting me to rise off my back; then applying the whistle to his mouth he summoned the same eunuchs, to whom he gave some directions as before. In obedience to his instructions they conducted me into a small room, every side of which was covered with glass: even the door at which I entered I could not discover when shut. In the centre of the room was a low dark-cushioned velvet couch, with one large cushion at the head; it was nothing but a plain broad couch, in the centre of which was fastened, properly extended, a beautiful white damask cloth. + +'I was stripped in an instant by the eunuchs of every particle of my dress; they even untied the fillets which fastened up my hair; then, having reduced me to a complete state of nature, they retired, taking away my clothes. So much were my feelings overcome, that I was obliged to seat myself on the couch, or else I must have fallen. I was not doomed to wait long in suspense, for in a few seconds the Dey entered, as naked as myself. You, Madame, no doubt well know how little ceremony, in cases of this kind, he uses. He took me in his arms, after kissing me, and told me he was now come to redress the wrongs I had suffered in the cruel neglect of my husband. "But," he said, "it will soon be repaired; you quickly shall taste such joys as your beauties so well deserve you should partake of. But why these tears and sighs? Is this the way you meet my caresses and kindness? Is this the return you make my generosity in preparing to teach you those pleasure which your husband has neglected. Come, come, let me have no more of this folly!" So drawing me to his bosom, he gently forced me on my back. "There now," he said, "lie down—no, not that way," seeing I was placing myself on my side, "it is on your back you must receive your first instructions. There, that's right; now open your soft thighs!" In an instant he was between them. I found I could not dare disobey. Finding my thighs were not quite extended enough, he soon widened them to his wish. I need not tell you how tremendously large the Dey is; turn in which way I would I could not help seeing in the glass the terrible pillar with which he was preparing to skewer me; quickly discovering the cause of my excessive alarm, whilst he was fixing its head between the lips of my virgin sheath, he tried by every kind of endearment to soothe me, assuring me the pain would be nothing—that my fears were unfounded; besides it was a sacrifice which nature had decreed, and once over the sweetest joys would be my reward; then why these foolish fears? Thus did he soften me to his desires. The head of his instrument was no sooner fixed in the opening than by four or five sudden shoves he contrived to insert the whole of it entirely, so that I could not see any part of it as my face turned towards the glass. At this moment his penetration was not deep enough to make me experience any great pain, but he, well knowing what was coming, forcibly secured one of his arms around my body. + +'Everything was now prepared and favourable. My legs were glued to his, and I lay in his arms as it were insensible from despair, shame and confusion. He now began to improve his advantage by forcibly deepening his penetration; his prodigious stiffness and size gave me such dreadful anguish, from the separation of the sides of the soft passage by such a hard substance, that I could not refrain from screaming. Delicate as I was, he found great difficulty; but his Herculean strength in the end broke down all my virgin defences. My piercing cries spoke of my sufferings. In my agony I strove to escape, but the Dey, perfectly used to such attempts, easily foiled them by his able thrusts, and quickly buried his tremendous instrument too far within me to leave me any chance of escape. He now paid no kind of attention to my sufferings, but followed up his movements with fury, until the tender texture altogether gave way to his fierce tearing and rending, and one merciless, violent thrust broke in and carried all before it, sending his weapon, imbued and reeking with the blood of my virginity, up to its utmost length in my body. The piercing shriek I gave proclaimed that I felt it up to the very quick; in short, his victory was complete. + +'What my sufferings at first were I need not dwell upon, as no doubt you must have experienced them as painfully as myself, from his extraordinary size. It was also increased from the want of delicacy he used in subduing me. But my suffering did not seem to be any consideration with him, for he gave me no respite in his proceedings, but by enjoyment after enjoyment very soon blunted the sharpness of the pain, and ere he withdrew from me I had sustained four assaults, which from their amorous fury had so stretched and opened me as to ensure I need never again complain on the score of suffering. Being satisfied on this point, he withdrew his shaft, and laying himself for a short time by my side, covered every part of me with burning kisses and caresses, assuring me that my sufferings were ended, and that I should shortly enjoy the pleasure of unmixed and pure delight in a manner that would reward me for all the anguish I had experienced in his fierce embraces. After reposing a short time on my bosom he got up and assisted me off the couch, which bore crimson evidence of my late loss. "Look," he cried, "my sweet slave," fondly pressing me in his arms, "I shall have your name worked in letters of gold on it, and it will then be deposited with a number of others that ornament a room in my harem. By virtue of this you are entitled to many privileges, which will be explained to you. Among others you are forever exempt from any kind of attendance on my wives or chief sultanas, unless you choose to amuse yourself. But the slaves who will attend you will explain all the things which the blushing testimony of your chastity entitles you to." He then placed such a thrilling kiss on my lips that it threw me into the greatest confusion. + +'He now called some Turkish slaves, who brought every kind of female clothing. They were not long in completing my toilet. This finished, he conducted me into a magnificent room, where refreshments were laid out During the repast the Dey, by the most assiduous attention, strove to render himself agreeable, but as yet I could scarcely venture to look on him. It was still early in the morning. When we had finished our repast, he tenderly enquired if I felt inclined to refresh myself by taking some repose alone. He could not have proposed anything more agreeable, which must have been evident by the immediate assent I gave to his offer. I was directly supported by him to a sleeping apartment, where, after again and again tenderly kissing me, he left me with a female slave, who soon undressed me; and in a soft slumber, which I soon fell into, my misfortunes were forgotten. My sleep was long and of course refreshing. I was awoken by the slave, who informed me that dinner was nearly ready, I got up and was assisted by her to dress. I then took dinner. After dinner the slave drew my attention to a large quantity of books, in my own language, which the Dey had caused to be sent to me. I found them to consist of our choicest authors. In my sitting-room he had occasioned a grand pianoforte to be placed, also an excellent lute, with a quantity of music, that I might not want amusement. I soon found several large portfolios of all kinds of prints, which alone were an inexhaustible store of amusement. The time imperceptibly passed in inspecting the various things which were placed for my recreation, until the slave reminded me that it was time I retired, as it was the Dey's intention to pass the night with me. What could I do? Resistance was now out of the question; my virtue and modesty had received their mortal wounds. I had, even if I wished, no resource; indeed, nothing was left to me but to submit to my fate. Scarcely knowing where I was going, I was conducted to the bedchamber, and soon was reduced to a proper state to meet the Dey's desires, being placed in bed in a state of panting, blushing confusion, very little different from that state I was in in the morning, when he debauched me. I was not long kept in suspense. I soon found myself in his strong arms. But, oh, how changed I now found him! All the authority of a master which he had so strongly assumed in the morning was now lost in the most passionate and tender regards of a most devoted and even submissive lover—even poor Ludovico could not be more so. I soon found his present proceedings more fatal to my morality than all the favours he had ravished from me by force under the influence of punishment. Indeed, I cannot explain the feeling he soon created. As I lay on his bosom he kissed me in a manner quite new, keeping my mouth to his several minutes, every now and then thrusting in his tongue and sucking mine. All the time he was doing this his hand was travelling over every part of my body with burning touches, creating the greatest disorder. The unopposed enjoyment of my lips, and feeling every secret beauty I possessed had now so heated his spirits, that to prevent the fluid that was boiling within him being improperly lost, it was absolutely necessary there should be no delay in my resigning to him the possession of the gates of pleasure. So for had his pressures and touches heated and inflamed me, that he found no obstacle in turning me on my back and again placing himself between my extended thighs. I scarcely recollect how it was, but I certainly felt at the moment he was fixing his instrument the soft prelude of pleasure illuminating within me. From trembling and fear I already began to desire; and, good God! how can I describe the surprise I felt when with one energetic shove he lodged himself up to the hilt in me without the smallest sensation of pain. Never, oh never shall I forget the delicious transports that followed the stiff insertion; and then, ah me! by what thrilling degrees did he, by his luxurious movements, fiery kisses, and strange touches of his hand in the most private parts of my body, reduce me to a voluptuous state of insensibility. I blush to say so powerfully did his ravishing instrument stir up nature within me, that by mere instinct I returned him kiss for kiss, responsively meeting his fierce thrusts, until the fury of the pleasure and ravishment became so overpowering that, unable longer to support the excitement I so luxuriously felt, I fainted in his arms with pleasure, Ludovico, the flogging, and everything else was entirely driven out of my head. So lively, so repeated were the enjoyments that the Dey caused me to participate in with him, I wondered how nature could have slumbered so long within me. I was lost in astonishment that in all the caresses I received from Ludovico he had not contrived to give the slightest alarm or feeling to nature. I could not help smiling at my ignorance when I considered the ridiculous airs I had assumed to Ludovico about my chastity. The Dey, indeed, had soon discovered my folly, and like a man of sense, took the proper method to subdue me. In this way, in one short night, you see, he put to the rout all my pure modest virgin scruples, rapturously teaching me the nature of love's sacred mysteries, and the great end for which we poor weak females are created. + +'During the first month of my captivity, my senses were kept in such a continual flow of rapture that what with sustaining his embraces at night and refreshing myself with sleep during the day, I had little else to do. But by degrees his visits to my apartment became less and less frequent, from the numerous beauties that came into his possession it could not be otherwise, but when I am honoured with embraces, so tender, so kind are his caresses, that I feel sufficiently repaid for his long absence, although I cannot but wish his visits were more frequent. But I am content with my lot. I have now been in the harem nearly two years. This is my short history. Of Ludovico I have never heard anything since we parted, and under all circumstances I think it as well I should not, for it would now be impossible for me to return to him with anything like satisfaction to myself, so firmly has the Dey fixed himself in my affections.' + +I have now, dear Sylvia, given you the history of the Italian beauty. I must confess the latter part of her history, which related to the gradual decrease of the Dey's visits, gave me a very uncomfortable sensation at first; but I was afterwards angry with myself for entertaining it a moment, when I considered during the whole time I have been in his possession, three nights out of every week have as yet been spent in his arms. Nor have I observed the least relaxation in either his attentions or desires. But I have been most dreadfully alarmed by something this Italian has communicated, which at first I did not give the least credit to. When we had related to each other our histories, of course we became considerably more intimate and familiar in our conversation. She asked me whether I felt any pleasure when the Dey enjoyed me behind. I told her I did not understand what she meant by behind. She laughed most immoderately at my ignorance, and would scarcely credit what I had asserted, particularly as she knew the Dey was so fond of the other route. I requested her to explain herself. 'Are you not aware,' said she, 'that a woman has two maidenheads to take?' On my replying in the negative, she answered, 'You have, though. Under the altar of Venus is another grotto, a little more obscure, to be sure; but there the Dey will offer up his sacrifices with characteristic energy.' I was all in a tremble at this discourse, and demanded of her if the Dey had ever enjoyed her in that position. 'Most certainly, many times,' was her reply. 'If you doubt what I say, the next time I am favoured with a morning visit by the Dey, you shall judge with your own eyes as to the fact; it can be easily managed, as our suites of rooms are contiguous.' + +'Is it possible,' cried I, 'that you receive any pleasure from a conjunction so beastly and unnatural?' + +'What innocence, my dear, what childishness!' replied the libertine. 'Do you not know that the men consider every part of us formed entirely for their pleasures; one enjoys us one way, one another, each man according to his lechery. You may rely upon it one of these days the Dey will instruct you in this way and rectify your ideas on the subject.' + +This conversation, and other matters which this Italian informed me of and which I could not drive from my thoughts, threw a considerable gloom over my feelings. In the evening the Dey visited me, and immediately saw by my countenance that something had disordered me. After considerable persuasion he contrived to extract what had caused my distress. + +'And why should this, dearest Zulima, give you any uneasiness?' said he, tenderly taking me in his arms and kissing me. 'I can see no reason why it should have raised a cloud on this lovely face; nor could I for a moment have supposed, if I had requested my sweet slave to have administered to my joys in that way, there would have been any denial. I hid my face in his bosom, and told him in our country it was considered the most degrading crime that could be committed, that it was punished with death. + +'I am aware,' replied he, 'that the English nation consider it a crime, but I was not acquainted with the magnitude of the punishment. But, Zulima' (I forgot to mention before that I received a new name from the Dey, as is customary with all captives), 'your country is the only one in the world that either considers it a crime or punishes it. Besides, Zulima, you are not in England now, nor are you likely ever to go there again. You are mine until one of us shall shake off this mortal form; therefore, you must submit to everything that I conceive will be an addition to my pleasures. Does not the English law direct that the wife shall be obedient to the husband in all lawful desires?' + +'Yes,' I replied. + +'Well, then, although you are not my wife in fact, still you are, according to our laws, considered the same. To become my married wife you must change your religion. But still you are considered my wife, therefore must submit to my lawful desires. By our laws we are permitted to enjoy our wives or concubines in any way that adds to our luxuries; in other words it is lawful that I may enjoy, and you must resign your second virginity whenever I require you to do so. After all, dear Zulima, how can it possibly be construed into a crime? It is true that the seed which I have so often distilled within you with such dissolving pleasure is given by nature to multiply our species, so to divert its natural course may in some measure be construed as an offence against nature by those who do not give it any consideration. Put the case thus: to divert and cast away seed is a crime. Now it is clear that the seed, even when deposited in its natural receiver, is entirely lost forty-nine times out of fifty. For instance, immediately sufficient seed is injected into the womb, the female conceives; then the mouth of the womb closes, and until the delivery of the child does not open again. If the female is fruitful, and properly enjoyed, she will conceive to a certainty in three months; it is six months more at least ere she will be delivered of her burden; consequently at every embrace the female sustains after conception, the seed that is shot within her is entirely lost or misused. Now what difference can there be as to where the seed is lost if it be lost? Where is the offence or crime? What difference whether the seed is uselessly deposited in the grotto of Venus, or injected in the temple below it? None in the world, lovely slave! My Grecian and Corsican slaves submit to any kind of enjoyment as a matter of duty and submission, in which they are instructed from their infancy. I have two Italians who think it no kind of crime; to my French slave it is a mere bagatelle. I was aware of the prejudices of your nation, and from the joys I found in your embraces did not like even to broach the subject to you.' + +'Then,' cried I, throwing my arms round his neck and fondly kissing him, 'let the pleasures you confess I have afforded you save me from what I consider would be the greatest disgrace I could possibly experience.' + +'This is folly,' cried the Dey, 'I can make no promise of the kind.' + +'But you must,' I replied. + +'How?' demanded he. 'You have sworn by your holy Prophet to grant me any favour I choose to request; you recollect your sacred oath?' + +'I do certainly.' + +'Well, then, the favour I request is that I may be spared the pollution we have been discoursing of.' + +'Can Zulima think that any act of Ali would pollute her?' cried he, rising from the couch with great heat and indignation. It was the first unkind word he had used to me since he had me. My heart sank within me whilst he continued, 'It is true I made the oath, and must religiously observe it. I shall leave you to reflect, foolish slave, on your childishness in thus attempting to bind my pleasures by an oath made in a moment when your deceitful blandishments had softened me into a belief that your love and devotion to me was as sincere as your person is beautiful. When you have altered your opinion you can inform the chief eunuch. I may, perhaps, then pardon this insult, and restore you to favour.' He then left me, muttering the word 'pollution', unmindful of my tears, which quickly began to flow at his angry looks. + +As he went out of the room my spirits failed me entirely. I sank on the couch overwhelmed with grief, railing against the mischance that brought me acquaintance with this Italian, whom I considered as the cause of my rupture with the Dey. My tears continued for nearly an hour after his departure, which no doubt considerably relieved me. However, I began to comfort myself with the hopes that his anger would not last. But, indeed, I did not properly estimate his character. The next day passed without my seeing him; a second, third, fourth passed in anxious, I may say almost breathless anguish, watching and listening for the approach of his well-known footstep. Guess the cruel suspense I suffered. Habituated to the sweet pleasure of his embraces, my desires began rapidly to overpower the scruples which early precept had instilled in me. My unsatisfied feelings became every hour stronger and stronger, until on the fifth day I was again visited by Honoria, the Italian, who entertained me with a long account of her happiness, having passed two nights running with the Dey; her transports went like daggers to my heart, but gave the decisive turn to my wavering indecision. I instantly resolved to submit to the Dey's desires, and wrote him a letter accordingly. + + +LETTER 5 + +Emily to the Dey + +Oh, Ali, is it possible that you, who have so often sworn that it made you unhappy to be for a day absent from your Zulima, can it be believed that for a whole week you would thus desert her? Your cruelty makes me suffer more than words can speak. You know I had no intention to give offence in what I uttered at our last interview. How could you leave me in the way you did? Oh, Ali, I am with child; hasten to comfort your miserable slave. You cannot doubt my love. Since the day you overpowered my innocence (the day I consider the happiest of my existence, although truly it was a painful one), how many proofs have you received of my love and devotion? Hasten then to do me justice, I conjure you. Surely I need not remind you of what I lost in becoming yours—my native country, innumerable friends, virtue. Oh, Ali, do not longer punish me; I am all devotion to your every desire, your submissive slave, + +ZULIMA + + +LETTER 6 + +Ali to his slave Zulima + +I have received your letter. I was aware of your being with child. Were it possible to increase my love for you this would be the cause, but lovely as you are, and dote upon you as I do, I am determined to tear myself from your tempting arms until I find your submission perfect You write about your loss of virtue, country and friends by falling into my power. Recollect the pleasure I have taught you and caused you to experience-have they not sufficiently rewarded you for the virginity you brought me? You say you are all devotion and submission to my every desire-be more explicit. Have you made up your mind to absolve me from my oath? Mark me! never more will these arms enfold you until by resigning your second maidenhead I have put it out of your power to dispute with me on this poin.t Write to me more explicitly—say you meant to absolve and submit to my embraces in the way I wish, and then you will meet with a return of my most ardent affection. + +ALI + +My veins were on fire -I could deny him nothing, and wrote the following note: + + +LETTER 7 + +Emily to the Dey + +I submit—I absolve you from your oath—fly to the arms of your longing + +ZULIMA + +Directly he was assured of my wish to absolve him of his oath, he appointed the same day to receive the last proof of my entire submission. In the evening when he entered my chamber I could not help flying to his arms. Unconsciously my eyes were filled with tears; but I did not consider them tears of sorrow, but rather of the pleasure I felt at feeling myself pressed in his arms again. He gave me a long and thrilling kiss, but seeing I was about to reproach him for his neglect, he stopped my mouth by informing me that he could not have his joys dampened by any silly upbraidings, but should instantly proceed, to prevent a repetition of our quarrel, by at once removing its cause; and he began immediately to undress me, which from the nature of my Turkish attire was soon accomplished. From the ardent caresses he placed upon my neck and breasts, and indeed every other part that became exposed, I felt assured the power of my attractions had not diminished. When he had stripped me naked he disrobed himself, then taking me in his arms, placed me on the couch, my stomach underneath, on two round pillows, one of them coming against the lower part of my belly, so as to elevate my bottom considerably. + +Having placed me thus, he divided my thighs to their utmost extension, leaving the route he intended to penetrate fairly open to his attack. He now got upon me, and having, as he thought, placed himself securely, he encircled my body round my loins with both his arms, and strove to penetrate the obstacle nature had placed in his way; but so largely is he proportioned that his efforts were at first without effect. Again he attempted, but again failed, and making a desperate lunge, his arrow, instead of piercing where he intended it should, slipped into the shrine of Venus, and before he found out his mistake, to my inexpressible delight it was nearly buried in its proper sanctuary. But he was not to be foiled in that way; he instantly withdrew it and again fixing its head proceeded with great caution and fierceness; in short, he soon got the head entirely fixed. His efforts then became more and more energetic. But he was as happy as the satisfying of his beastly will could make him. He regarded me not, but profiting by his success, soon completed my second undoing; and then, indeed, with mingled emotions of disgust and pain, I sensibly felt the debasement of being the slave of a luxurious Turk. + +I was now, indeed, wretched and oppressed with mental anguish, until at last my outraged feeling could no longer sustain the shock. A delirious fever seized me. Bereft of my senses, I know not what further took place at that time. The Dey has since informed me that a considerable time elapsed ere he found out my loss of reason, but immediately he ascertained the state I was in, he was compelled to desist by his religion, for it is sacrilege to touch or injure any person, Turk or Christian, who is deranged. Every advice and medical assistance were immediately procured to restore my senses, which was soon effected; and when my health was again sufficiently reestablished to enable me to receive his visits, again was I compelled in silence to resign myself to his infamous desires, until by repeated engagements I became accustomed to his proceedings. But the only result is, if anything, an augmentation of my disgust and horror. By my submission I was reinstated in his affections, and everything proceeds as usual. But the charm is broken. It is true he can, when he pleases, bewilder my senses in the softest confusion; but when the tumult is over, and my blood cooled from the fermentation he causes-when reason resumes its sway, I feel that the silken cords of affection which bound me so securely to him have been so much loosened that he will never again be able to draw them together so closely as they were before he subdued me to his abominable desires. + +My depression of spirits made me quite the laughing stock of the Italian woman and the French woman, who were perfectly acquainted with the cause. They affected to despise my feelings. The only consolation I received was from the Grecian girl, with whom I had become extremely intimate and to whom I was much attached. She was a beautiful girl, tall and slender; her face was rather pale and languid, overcast with a melancholy resignation, but her light-blue eyes were mild and expressive as the soft ray of an autumnal moon tingeing a fading evening sky. With the help of books I had been able to teach her the English language, and her progress in attaining it was almost incredible. We could now converse freely together, and mourn over our misfortunes and captivity. I shall narrate her distressing history in nearly the same words as she stated it to me. + +History of Adianti the Grecian Slave + +My name is Adianti. I was born in the delightful island of Macaria, where my father was a merchant, called Theodoricus. I am his only child. Like all Greeks or Christians who reside under the power of Turks, my father was obliged to live in a style of the utmost simplicity. It was only by stealth he ventured on any little luxurious indulgence, well knowing that the governor of the district was upon the watch to pounce upon him the moment he made a show of property. Slavery, the most powerful agent in the degradation of mankind, has given to the modern Greeks a melancholy propensity to indulge in all kinds of gloomy presages and forebodings. I was not exempt from the feelings of my countrymen, and my very name, being that of one of the Danaides, whenever I heard it mentioned, always carried an ominous feeling to my heart. + +In our neighbourhood resided a youth named Demetrius, the only son of an aged and infirm widow. He was born for a land of freedom, and one might have predicted from his appearance that he was destined to chafe and struggle not a little under the restraints and mortifications which ever fall to the lot of those who show the least spirit of independence. His stature was tall; he carried his head higher than a Bashaw; he was of easy carriage, and his body as straight as a palm; active and graceful in his walk, clear in his eye, and impatient of insult to the last degree. He was eloquent, poetical, romantic, enterprising and a lover of the arts—he could have achieved great things had his lot been cast in a more happy age and country. Were he now living he would be foremost among the heroes who are defending our religion. + +An ancient intimacy had subsisted between our families, and we were much together. Demetrius had never exhibited any particular marks of affection for me, yet I cannot deny that I had for some time cherished a growing preference for the handsome, high-spirited companion of my youth. It was the superstitious feeling I have before mentioned that induced me to consult the Oracle of the Sweet Waters as to how my young passion for Demetrius would thrive; and I returned from my enquiry disconsolate and overpowered, as all the answers of the oracle turned out unfavourable to my hopes. Under the dominion of a long cherished superstition, handed down from generation to generation, and sanctioned by the examples of all around, I would as soon have thought of counteracting the declared decrees of providence as of cherishing a hope in opposition to the oracle. You may suppose my agitation on being informed by my father that he was going to the governor to request permission for our marriage. With trembling anxiety I waited the result. Our governor was a Bashaw of three tails who, although a native of Stampalier and originally a Latin Christian, had long ago changed the cross for the crescent Ali Ozman was the Turkish name he assumed. It is usual, in asking a favour of our governors, to accompany it with a present. The one my father carried with him in support of his petition did not exactly please Ozman (for, of course, my father was afraid of exciting suspicions of his wealth by being too liberal), and Ozman received it with contemptuous indifference. Though he had turned Turk, he had enough of the Latin Christian in him to hate one of the Greek church mortally. My father prostrated himself three times as he presented his offering. 'Is thy daughter handsome, Christian dog?' asked Ozman. At this, a French renegade, who had insinuated himself into the confidence of Ozman, whispered to him that I was the fairest virgin in the isle. Ozman considered a few moments, and said with a smile, 'I accept thy present, and permit thy daughter to wed the young Greek on condition that thou grant a feast before the marriage, and bid me be a guest.' My father returned home in a melancholy mood, and gave direction for the preparation of the feast and the reception of the cruel Ozman. From a sudden recollection of the disastrous omen of the oracle, darker and more dreary became my thoughts than they had ever been since the hour I became convinced Demetrius loved me. He also all that day seemed labouring under a depression, and departed early in the evening oppressed by vague forebodings he could not define. The feast was, however, prepared, the company bidden and, after waiting a considerable time for the arrival of Ozman, who did not appear, the ceremony proceeded with Demetrius and myself each choosing a godfather to attend us. At the altar we were met by the aged papa, or Greek priest, who, after blessing two crowns of foliage intertwined with ribbons and laces, placed them on our heads. He then in like manner blessed two rings, one of silver, the other of gold, placing the former on my finger, the latter on that of Demetrius. After these rings had been exchanged and we had taken our vows, the old priest was preparing to distribute the bread and wine which was to conclude the ceremony when a light strain of Turkish music at a distance caught our attention. In a little while Ozman was seen advancing at the head of twenty or thirty of his guards. Demetrius earnestly besought the priest to finish the ceremony before the barbarians should arrive to interrupt it, but the old man trembled so that the wine was spilled and the consecrated bread fell from his hands. In a few moments Ozman and his train entered the church with their scimitars drawn and scattered the bridal train, leaving me, my father, Demetrius and the priest alone at the altar. + +'Stop, dog!' cried Ozman. 'I forbid the marriage in the name of the prophet.' + +'It is too late,' replied the old priest, meekly. + +'Be silent, Christian dog! or I will stop thy howlings,' Ozman cried. 'But what is this I smell—wine? You have been carousing, you swine! You have been swilling of that accursed beverage abhorred by Allah, and denounced by his Prophet. It is enough; seize the virgin and trample into dust all that oppose us.' During the whole of the fateful proceedings my poor father supported himself against the side of the smouldering altar in speechless horror. I could not speak, but my eyes were fixed on Demetrius, whose inflexible silence I but too well understood. The youth was too indignant to speak, but the clenched hands, quivering lips and blazing eye spoke a prologue to opposition and vengeance. + +'Seize the virgin!' repeated Ozman, 'she will be only too honoured and happy to escape the pollution of this blaspheming wine bibber.' Ozman advanced as he uttered these insulting words. At that instant Demetrius sprang like lightning upon the foremost of the ravishers, and wrenched the scimitar from his hand before he was aware of his purpose. He rushed on Ozman: the first blow made his scimitar fly ringing into the air, the second was arrested by one of the guards, which saved the life of the tyrant, who exclaimed, almost choking with passion, 'He has struck a Mussulman; he has outraged the law of the Prophet; he has polluted the person of the representative of the Commander of the Faithful. Hew him to the earth! cut him into atoms! scatter his flesh to the beasts of the field! let the dogs feed on the Christian reptile!' The crisis was come; my poor father took courage from despair, and seizing upon Ozman's scimitar, which still lay upon the ground, placed himself besides Demetrius, determined to share his fate and the with him. Guess my indescribable anguish. I was seized by several of the guards, whilst others attacked my father and lover. A desperate conflict ensued. My father fought bravely, but soon fell dead by the side of Demetrius, who had rushed towards the tyrant thinking he had him within his power, but a scimitar from behind had cleaved open his head. He sank on the ground never more to rise. At this dreadful sight my senses forsook me, and I do not know how long I continued insensible, for when I was brought back to life I was in a state of raving delirium, in which I have been informed I continued for many weeks. When I finally recovered, I found myself the property of a slave merchant on board a Turkish vessel which was sailing for Tunis. On arriving there I was sold to the Dey. It was at Tunis I learned how I escaped the brutish lust of the villain Ozman. After the slaughter of my father and lover he had me conveyed to his harem, no doubt for the purpose of sacrificing my chastity to his abominable desires; but from the state I was in it became necessary for a doctor to be sent for, and he, after administering such medicines as brought me to myself, instantly declared me to be in a state of complete insanity. By the laws of Mahomet no one, under penalty of death, can abuse or take any liberty with the person of one of unsound mind. Thus for the moment I escaped ravishment. Shortly afterwards, in consequence of some act of peculation the wretch committed, the Sultan caused him to be strangled and his effects to be sold; being found among his slaves I became the property of the slave merchant, who quickly conveyed me from my country, home and friends, well knowing where my person would find a good market. + +It appears such as I am I did not exactly strike the taste of the Dey, for he shortly afterwards sent me as a gift to our present master, who it seems it was decreed should enjoy the virgin treasures which the wicked Ozman dared not deprive me of and the Dey of Tunis neglected or did not think worth his time to take from me. After my first interview with the Dey I clearly saw that my chastity was in considerably more danger than it had been while I was in the power of Ozman, and that I was now without the protection I then enjoyed. After my recovery from the dreadful malady with which I was seized at the cruel butchery of my lover and father, a fixed melancholy settled on me in the place of the disorder. This the Dey on seeing me perceived, and he became anxious to know the cause why one so young and beautiful (as he was pleased to describe me) should be afflicted with such a determined lowness of spirits. In compliance with his urgent wishes, I related the history of my misfortunes. During my narrative he sat by my side and took one of my hands in his. I could clearly feel and see by his agitation how much my story affected him; The tear of sensibility stood trembling in his eye at the relation of my sufferings. + +When I had finished he drew me trembling to his bosom, and tenderly kissing my forehead, said he blushed that such a villain as Ozman should disgrace the name of Mussulman. 'Have you no relations that I can return you to?' he demanded. I told him I knew of no relation but my father, and he and Demetrius were dead. 'No wonder,' he continued, your beauties are clouded; the misfortunes felt by one so young have been enough to sink you to the very earth. But cheer up, sweet maid, here you shall be free from all importunity. It is true you are my slave, and by our laws I can, if I think fit, violate your beauties; but no. As yet you have experienced nothing but oppression at our hands. I will try by kindness to deserve the enjoyment of your charms.' + +Again he pressed me fondly to his bosom, but instead of kissing me as before, my lips received his pressures until their fierceness threw me into a confusion indescribable; but on seeing me in tears he immediately desisted, assuring me that my modesty had nothing to fear from him. But young and inexperienced as I was, nature assured me I had more to fear from the soft pity and seeming sensibility of the amorous Ali than the villainous proceedings of the ferocious Ozman. Ozman might have debauched me by force it is true, but with Ali I had more than force to guard against—I mean nature, which the persuasive Ali, even on my first interview, had contrived to alarm by his kisses, which (I know not why) I scarcely dared to refuse him, particularly as he always desisted when the fervency of his proceedings gave my modesty reason to complain. But I soon became conscious that at each new interview the liberties he took became more daring, so much so that I had determined to request he would send me home to my native isle as he had offered to do. + +The very evening I had come to this resolution he sent word by one of his eunuchs that he would take his coffee with me. He came accordingly. After coffee was served (as was his usual custom) he reclined on the sofa, directing me to place myself by his side. I obeyed, as he never had refused to permit my rising when the fear of his proceedings had alarmed me. This evening I though he seemed particularly tender, but somewhat thoughtful. As usual, my lips became his prey. Without my knowledge he contrived to unbutton my bodice at the bosom, and ere I could oppose it his burning hand had invaded and was moulding one of my breasts. This new proceeding threw me into considerable agitation. I requested him to desist; to take his hand away. He immediately complied, merely demanding whether his caresses gave me uneasiness. Indeed so very kind did he appear that evening, I at last summoned up courage to make my request of being sent home. His kindness I confessed I should never forget I supported my petition with all the artless sophistry I was capable of. Ah, I little knew the value of the favour I was soliciting. + +At first he seemed much astonished, and I thought affected, but with pleasure I saw the frown fade from his brow. He called me unkind, ungenerous, to wish to desert him at the very moment he had nearly persuaded himself that his attention and forbearance had created a sentiment in my bosom favourable to his hopes. 'Say, sweet maid,' he cried, fondly kissing me, 'you cannot, will not abandon me.' I hardly know how I resisted his pressure and importunities, but I did, and at last received the joyful assurance from him that I should return to my country-home I had none. But his promise was all deception, for even at the very moment he made it, his plans for my ruin were taking effect. Determined on my enjoyment, he had caused to be infused in the coffee which had been handed to me, a strong sleeping draught. Thus at the very moment I was soliciting for the safety of my virtue, my virgin hour was rapidly expiring, and my eyes were growing heavy with the effect of the opium. In fact, sleep overtook me in his arms, and I did not recover from the stupefying quality of the narcotic drug before my virginity and all hopes of escape were destroyed. I was no sooner asleep than the Dey had me undressed and conveyed to bed, whereupon he quickly followed. I became his unresisting prey. The acuteness of the painful sensations which I am told always accompany the transformation of the maid into the finished woman are unknown to me, for so powerful was the medicine that I continued buried all the night in the most profound insensibility—in fact, during all the time the Dey was in uncontrolled possession of my person; indeed so thoroughly had he prepared me to meet his pleasures when I should recover my senses, that during his first enjoyment of me, when perfectly awake, I felt not the least sensation that could be possibly called painful. You may guess my astonishment and sorrow, on awakening from my deathlike stupor, to find myself naked in the arms of the Dey, who was fast asleep, his head reclining on my bosom. From a certain stiffness I felt in a particular part, the truth crashed upon my mind instantly. I could not refrain from crying aloud, which awoke the Dey. He was not slow in pleading an excuse for what he had done, stating that, burning for my enjoyment, and plainly seeing my invincible modesty would oppose the most strenuous resistance to the completion of his desires, he determined, by rendering me insensible to my seduction, to spare my feelings and blushes. + +'How could you suppose, lovely creature,' he cried, passionately, 'that it was possible I could part with charms like yours? Where would you fly to? no one to protect you—no home! your beauties are too great to suffer you long to escape the snares which some brutal renegade like Ozman would set to trap you. Then, sweet slave, pardon my offence; in me you will always find a kind and faithful protector. Come, dry those lovely eyes,' he continued; 'no longer rend my heart with those agonising looks.' In this manner, joined with the softest caresses, did Ali strive to soothe me after giving my first burst of passion its free vent. What he said was very true. I had no home or friend. Where was I to fly to? My state of wretchedness was too apparent. It required very little reflection to convince me the grand ordeal was past, my virginity being his. In short, he soothed me with the soft asseverations of the tenderest love, giving his persuasions with the most lively caresses, until at last by degrees he stemmed the tide of sorrow that flowed over my feelings. Seeing my grief was somewhat pacified, he considered this a fit opportunity to begin to prepare me to submit to his desires. I was entirely unconscious of his intentions. He suddenly turned me on my back, forcibly extended my thighs with one of his knees and in an instant was secure between them; without further ceremony he fixed himself in me, and vigorously making play, his quick thrusts soon sent him in fierce erection to his utmost length into me; indeed, I felt him up to the very quick; I was literally gorged by him. You may suppose my astonishment at finding the insertion of his instrument unaccompanied by the least particle of pain. [I interrupted her by enquiring if she felt not the least suffering.] None whatever, and I can only attribute it to the number of times he must have enjoyed me while I was under the influence of the opiate, for I assure you the pains accompanying the loss of virginity are entirely unknown to me. Nay, on the contrary, I felt not the least inconvenience. So you may guess my emotions at the awful moment when he had driven himself into me, joining as it were our bodies into one by the close junction of the parts. My hands were clenched—my whole body immovable—my teeth, fixed. I was lost to everything but the wonderful instrument that was sheathed within me. I call it wonderful, and I think not improperly; for wonderful must that thing be that in the midst of the most poignant grief can so rapidly dissolve our senses with the softest sensations, spite of inclination, so quickly cause us to forget our early impressions, our first affections, and in the most forlorn and wretched moments of our existence make us taste such voluptuous delight and lustful pleasure! This was my case. At the very moment I thought myself the most wretched of all human beings did the Dey, by his luxurious movements, cause me to experience the most sensual of all enjoyments, which every instant became more and more poignant and dissolving, until I was completely ravished with unutterable delight. I unconsciously grasped him in my arms, unable to conceal the joys I was convulsed with; and soon in my agony of bliss, amounting to little less than delirium, did I feel spouting from him the milk of life, which rushed in delicious streams into my womb, and quickly drew down from me with shuddering ecstasy my maiden tribute of the melting essence. After the first ecstasy, as he lay in my arms, whilst I was still languishing from the joy I had experienced, did he extract from me an unqualified kiss of forgiveness for his deceit and treachery, and on my lips did he seal an oath to Allah never to desert me. I now became passive if not resigned to my fate. Drawing his shaft out of me, and removing himself from between my thighs, he informed me that in the evening when his strength was sufficiently recruited, it was his intention to give me my finishing instructions in love's mysteries; for as yet, though it was evident to him I had enjoyed the pleasure, yet I had much to learn and to do ere (as he said) I could enjoy the ecstasy properly. He then left me. I shall not tire you with an account of how I passed the day; it is sufficient to say that towards evening the female slaves, after having conducted me to the bath, and properly ornamented my hair, and every way prepared me, helped me into bed to await the Dey's coming. He came covered only by a robe, which thrown off left him entirely naked, and he came to bed to me. If I had any repugnance left, this might certainly have removed it entirely. Directly he was laid by my side he first threw off the bedclothes, then untying the ribbons which closed my dress in front, he threw it open, leaving my person naked to his view. He then examined every part of me, covering me as he did so with numberless kisses. Having satisfied his curiosity as to my person, he drew me to his bosom, and desired me to place my lips to his. He then taught me several ways of kissing. The first was merely drawing my lips softly across his, which he called dove-kissing. The second was keeping my lips glued to his, returning his suction until he withdrew his lips: this he called the kiss of enjoyment; and the third was the same with the difference of thrusting his tongue into my mouth—this was described by him as the kiss of desire. + +When he thought he had sufficiently taught me the manner of kissing which pleased him, he desired me particularly to remember that whenever he got between my thighs I must immediately extend them to their utmost width, and when I found he had completely entered me, then, and not till then, I was to embrace his body with my arms, and pass my lips softly over his when I felt him beginning to thrust; as he withdrew out of me, I was also to withdraw from him, but not so much as to throw him out; and as he thrust home again, I was also to meet him with all my force, my arms all the time encircling him firmly—all my kisses to be entirely governed by his manner of kissing, and immediately I felt him beginning to discharge himself within me, I was instantly to throw my legs over his back and keep myself immovably fixed in the closest junction with him, until the very last drop was ejected from him; but, above all, he particularly pressed upon me to obey him in everything he directed implicitly, assuring me I should find my reward in obedience. With blushes I promised to obey his desires in every particular. He then got between my thighs, which I extended to his wishes; this I saw gratified him; then, on his knees between them, he desired me to take hold of his instrument, and pass my hand up and down it two or three times. I did as he directed, but could not look him in the face. Ah, I could scarcely grasp the stately pillar! As my hand slipped up and down it, I felt it throb and leap freely. I was struck with astonishment at how I could have entertained so superb and magnificent a shaft! I was not given long to consider about it. He laid himself down on me; with his left hand he unclosed the luscious lips of the mouth of nature, while with the right he bent his mighty instrument—so stiff was its erection that he appeared with difficulty to force it down to the opening—and presently I felt its broad shelving head entering between the lips which the fingers kept extended. When he got in, as if he meant to spin out his pleasure and give it more play, he passed his instrument up so slowly that it appeared an age to me until I had fairly received it into the soft laboratory of love. At last our mossy mounts fairly rubbed against each other. But ah! how silly were the directions he had given me as to not embracing him until this moment! it was out of my power to resist the impulse I felt. If my life had depended upon it I could not have forborne from grasping him to my breast. As to his other directions, I believe I gave him perfect satisfaction. At first I was passive by force, but as he made play, the in-and-out friction soon awakened, touched and roused me to the quick, so that, unable to contain myself, I could not but comply with his motions as quickly as the delicacy of my make and my inexperience would admit of, until the pleasure rose to such a height that it made me wild with ravishing sensations, in fact I threw my legs about at random, entirely lost in the sweet agitation. As to the Dey, his ecstasy declared itself by the increasing quickness and fierceness of his thrusts, his rough grasping of my body, his burning kisses and eyes darting humid fires. As the last moment, the critical moment came, I had barely sufficient recollection to follow my instructions. I instantly entwined my legs over his loins, every part of us was strictly joined, and, oh God! he distilled into me a flood of rapture which was met by me, I scarcely know how, for the transport was so great that I actually fainted in his arms. + +When I recovered, the endearing language and tender caresses of the Dey fully spoke his entire satisfaction, and from that moment I became his favourite slave; so I continued until you were brought into the harem. But pray, Madame [she said, tenderly throwing herself into my arms and kissing me], do not think me jealous of your superior attractions, for although in our unfortunate situations the pleasures of the Dey's embraces are an extreme source of consolation as well as gratification, yet I assure you [her beautiful eyes filled with tears as she spoke] no one but Demetrius could ever make me jealous. Demetrius was my true, my only love. + + +LETTER 8 + +Emily Barlow to Sylvia Carey (continued) + +I had forgot to mention before the unhappy fate of my companion Eliza, whom I never saw after my first introduction to the Dey; she was presented by the Dey to the Dey of Tunis, whose shocking barbarity to his female slaves was the common gossip of our harem. One day the Dey came into my room, and throwing down a letter, told me it contained all the particulars of the ravishment of my friend, adding, 'She has had a little worse treatment than my slaves generally meet with.' + +I seized the letter, and you may judge my feelings on reading the following: + + +LETTER 9 + +The Dey of Tunis to the Dey of Algiers + +A pretty trick you have played me. By Mahomet's beard, it is abominable! to look at her, who would have credited it? such a meek-eyed, timid-looking thing! By Allah, Ali, merely for thrusting my hands into her breasts did she fly at me like a tiger, and my face was instantly furrowed by her cursed nails like unto a field new ploughed. But I wrong you to suppose you could have known what a termagant she was; if you had, you certainly would have communicated the character of your present. I may properly say she was a termagant for she is now tamed. When somewhat recovered from the surprise her sudden attack created, I summoned some of the eunuchs, into whose care I delivered her, determined to defer my revenge until the wounds of my face were healed—and you shall hear how then this vixen was subdued. + +In a few days my face was well; my directions that she should be treated with every possible respect in the meantime had quite put her off her guard. One morning the eunuchs conveyed her to my experiment room, where, before she could tell what they were about, her hands were securely fastened together and drawn above her head, through a pulley fixed in the ceiling. I directed her to be pulled up so as not to lift her off the ground, but that she should not be able to throw herself down. When this was effected I entered the room and dismissed the eunuchs. There she stood trembling with rage, but unable to help herself. I now drew a couch towards her, and having seated myself close to her, placed one arm around her waist, and with the other was about to lift up her clothes. + +It is impossible to describe the exertions she made to prevent my proceedings, she twisted herself about and writhed and kicked until I was obliged to abandon my attempt for a moment and call in the eunuchs, who quickly (in spite of her kicking) secured each of her feet to a ring placed in the floor, about two feet and a half from each other. This, of course, considerably extended her legs and thighs. She was then secure every way. After dismissing the eunuchs, I again drew the couch close to her, and without further ceremony lifted up her clothes. Oh, Ali, what delicious transport shot through my veins at the voluptuous charms exhibited to my ardent gaze! How lovely was her round mount of love, just above the temple of Venus, superbly covered with beautiful black hair, how soft and smooth as ivory her belly and her swelling, delicately formed thighs! The cygnet down instantly disclosed that she was a maid, for where the bodies have been properly joined in the fierce encounter, the hair (particularly of the female) loses that sleek downy appearance, and by the constant friction the smooth hair becomes rubbed into delightful little curls. But, to put the fact beyond dispute, I thrust my forefinger into the little hole below. Her loud cries, and the difficulty of entering which was found, set the fact beyond dispute. Immediately dropping on my knees, grasping in each hand one of her buttocks, I placed on her virgin toy a most delicious kiss. I then got up and began to undress her. She appeared nearly choked with passion; her tears flowed down her beautiful face in torrents. But her rage was of no use. Proceeding leisurely, first taking off one thing, then another, and with the help of scissors, I quickly rid her of every covering. + +Holy Mahomet! What a glorious sight she exhibited: beautiful breasts-finely placed, sufficiently firm to support themselves—shoulders, belly, thighs, legs, everything was deliriously voluptuous! But what most struck my fancy was the beautiful whiteness, roundness and voluptuous swell of firm flesh of her lovely buttocks and thighs. 'Soon,' I said to myself, handling her delicious bum, 'soon shall this lovely whiteness be mixed with a crimson blush!' I placed burning kisses upon every part of her; wherever my lips travelled instantly the part was covered with scarlet blushes. Having directed two rods to be placed on the couch, also a leather whip with broad lashes, I took one of the rods and (shoving the couch out of the way) began gently to lay it on the beautiful posterior of my sobbing captive. At first I did it gently enough—it could have no other effect than just to tickle her; but shortly I began every now and then to lay on a smart lash, which made her wince and cry out. This tickling and cutting I kept up for some time—until the alabaster cheeks of her bum had become suffused with a slight blush—then suddenly I began to give the rod with all my might; then indeed was every lash followed by a cry, or an exclamation for pity, such as 'Oh! spare me, for God's sake! have pity on me! you cut me in pieces!' + +'Ah, I cannot bear it! I shall die!' Her winces and the delicious wiggling of her backside increased in proportion to the increase of the force of my lashes and these continued, heedless of her cries, entreaties and complaints, until both the rods and myself were exhausted. To recover breath I drew the couch close to her and seated myself; the entire surface of her beautiful buttocks was covered with welts; every here and there, where the stem of the leaves had caught her, appeared a little spot of crimson blood, which went trickling down the lily thighs. Again and again did I slide my hand over her numerous beauties. Again and again did my forefinger intrude itself into her delicate little hole of pleasure. She could not avoid anything I thought fit to do. Her thighs were stretched wide enough for me to have enjoyed her if I had thought fit, but that was not my immediate intention. I had settled she was to receive the quantity of punishment allotted her before she was deflowered. + +Having recovered my breath, I stripped myself, and, seizing the leather whip, began to flog her with such effect that the blood followed every lash. Vain were her cries and supplications—still lash followed lash in rapid succession. I was now in so princely a state of erection that I could have made a hole where there had been none before, let alone drive myself into a place which nature had been so bountiful as to form of stretching material. Quickly summoning the eunuchs, I directed them to lay her on her back on the couch, properly securing an arm on each side to one of the legs of the couch. It was accomplished as quickly as ordered. They retired, leaving me with my exhausted victim to complete the sacrifice. I was not long in rooting up her modesty, deprived as she was of the use of her arms and exhausted by her sufferings. A pillow having been placed under her sufficiently to raise her bottom so as to leave a fair mark for my engine, I threw her legs over my shoulders, and softly (as a tender mother playing with her infant) opened the lips of paradise and love to reveal its coral hue and mossy little grotto—and each fold closed upon the intruding finger, repelling the unwelcome guest. Inconceivable is the delight one feels in these transporting situations! There is nothing on earth so much enhances the joy with me as to know the object that affords me the pleasure detests me, but cannot help from satisfying my desires—her tears and looks of anguish are sources of unutterable joy to me! Being satisfied in every way, by sight, by touch, by every sense, that I was the first possessor, I placed the head of my instrument between the distended lips, grasping her thighs with her legs over my shoulders, then making a formidable thrust, lodged the head entirely in her; she turned her beautiful eyes up to heaven as if looking there for assistance—her exhaustion precluded any opposition; another fierce thrust deepened the insertion; tears in torrents followed my efforts, but she disdained to speak; still I thrust, but no complaint; but growing fiercer, one formidable plunge proved too mighty for her forbearance—she not only screamed, but struggled. However, I was safely in her. Another thrust finished the job; it was done, and nobly done, by Mahomet! Europa was never half so well unvirgined, although love might have had the strength of a bull. After having cooled my burning passion by a copious discharge, I withdrew myself. Crimson tears followed my exit; with a handkerchief I wiped away the precious drops, and falling on my knees between her thighs, placed on the torn and wounded lips a delicious kiss—delicious beyond measure. Only consider, Ali, to know beyond dispute that no one but myself had divided these pouting, fresh, warm, clasping and gaping gates of pleasure! Indeed it was rapturous beyond description. I now thought it time to untie the silken cord that confined the arms of this young vixen. On feeling her arms released, her only motion was to cover her eyes with her hands; there she lay on her back immovable—but for her sobs I could not have told whether she existed. I left her, but ordered the eunuchs to convey her to her apartments, directing the greatest care to be taken of her until my return from an excursion I was about to make to Bona. + +I was gone twelve days. During my journey, I had refrained from women, consequently on my return I felt myself in an extremely amorous mood. Not intending to give her modesty (if she had any left) an excuse for resistance, I directed her to be again secured, but this time I had her fastened face downwards to a curious couch made on purpose, at the end of which, by means of a handle, the positions may be elevated or lowered to any height convenient. On lifting up her clothes, to my great joy I found there was not the least remains of the flagellation so liberally administered to her. Her swelling ivory thighs and voluptuous firm buttocks had perfectly recovered their beautiful freshness. I think it is utterly impossible for anyone to possess charms exceeding in beauty the rising plumpness of her lovely limbs! How delightful the touch and squeeze of her bum! After tucking her clothes securely up as high as the small of her back, so that her twisting could not unloosen them, I undressed myself, and arming myself with a magnificent rod, commenced giving her a second lesson in birch discipline. Not intending this bout to make her suffer much, having (as I said) completely broken her spirit when I deflowered her, all that I now intended was to enjoy the luxurious wriggling, plunging and kicking which usually attends a smart flagellation. From the tears that already filled her beautiful eyes, I plainly perceived she expected the same treatment she had before experienced; but she was deceived—for this time I did not lay into her with more strength than was necessary to cover her posterior with a slight carnation blush. But still the delicious struggles and writhes, as the expected cat fell upon her round buttocks, threw me into so luxurious a frenzy that it caused me soon to abandon the rod. By means of the wheel and handle I raised her buttocks until her delicate little hole of pleasure was properly placed to receive me. I directed myself to the entrance. Having thoroughly stretched her on my first attack, three or four thrusts were enough to engulf my fullest length into her; in fact she sustained the insertion without making any great complaint, only a little cry or so. Nothing adds to the enjoyment so much as the active reciprocation of the female when she returns the transport; when that return is not willingly given, its place must be supplied in the best way available. It could hardly be expected that any return would be made by my captive, consequently I was obliged to make the best substitute I could; so, seizing her round the loins as I drove myself into her, grasping her close and drawing her towards me, I made her meet the coming thrusts, thus famously supplying the want of her own free will in the exertions of my pleasures. Master of the place, I gave way with all my energy to the voluptuous joys with which my senses were surrounded. At every fierce insertion my stones slapped against the soft lips of her delicate slit. Everything conspired to excite, to gratify my senses. Driving close into her, I for a moment stopped my furious thrusts to play with the soft silly hair which covered her mount of love; then slipping my hand over her ivory belly up to her breasts, I made her rosy nipples my next prey. Then, Ali, I again commenced my ravishing in-and-out strokes. Oh, how beautiful was the sight in the mirror by my side, as I drew myself out of her, of the rosy lips of her sheath protruding out clasping my instrument as if fearing to lose it! then again, as the column returned up to the quick, to see the crimson edging that surrounded me gradually retreating inwards, until it was entirely lost in the black circles of her mossy hair! In short, Ali, overcome with voluptuous sensations, the crisis seized me. I distilled, as it were, my very soul into her! Satisfied, I now withdrew myself, then releasing her hands, I stripped her of her clothes (all but her shift) and carried her to a more commodious couch, on which I threw her, and placed myself by her side. She had now nothing to lose. Fear, no doubt, prevented her making resistance to my proceedings. The view and touch of so many beauties again fired my blood. I seized her, threw myself upon her, divided her thighs, quickly buried myself in her, and again and again drowned myself in a sea of sensual delight, in which it must be confessed the sweet girl did not to appearances participate. But in my next I hope to give a better account of her. + +MUZRA + +This letter you may be assured made me feel quite unhappy. While on this subject I will give you the contents of the subsequent letter, written about a week afterwards. + + +LETTER 10 + +Muzra to Ali + +Ah, Ali, the English slave has indeed been a fatal present to your friend. You will scarcely credit the dreadful recompense she has taken for her lost virginity. + +Yes, Ali, nothing but my life would satisfy her. Doubtless her wishes will be gratified, for I feel life ebbing fast from me. As I informed you in my last, I supposed that her spirit was quite subdued; but I little knew the mind I had to contend with, or how terrible a retribution she would exact for my trespass on her charms! But I must quickly finish. Several times I had enjoyed her in the daytime, but had not slept with her. One night, truly fatal for me, I ordered the eunuchs to bring her to my sleeping apartment. Oh, Ali, nothing could exceed the docility, mixed with the timid bashfulness of her behaviour. In the midst of my joys she clasped me in her arms, returning my kisses as ardently as they were given, and appearing to receive as much ecstatic pleasure as she herself gave. But it was all deceit, to lull me to my destruction. Wearied by bliss, I sank by her side into a delightful slumber, from which I was awoken by the piercing of a knife through my bosom. It was daylight; she was leaning over me with a savage joy, brandishing the fatal instrument that had already pierced me. Again it fell on my defenceless bosom. 'That's for my lost virtue!' she cried. Again she struck me, 'That's for my cruel scourging!' And again flourishing it before my eyes, she cried, 'Receive that for the many times you have forced my poor body to submit to your loathsome pollutions.' Again it fell unerring on my breast. I shrieked aloud for help. Two of the eunuchs rushed in. She had sprung out of bed. The first (who attempted to seize her) paid with his life the forfeit of temerity, but the other overpowered her. Weak from the loss of blood, I had still strength enough to order she should not be hurt. My orders were obeyed. To prevent any ill usage to her in case I should not recover, I have sent her back to you. I can dictate no more at present. If I should depart to Paradise, as you respect your friend, let no one injure her. Farewell. May happiness attend you. + +MUZRA + +I can hardly describe my feelings on reading this last letter. I was pleased to think Eliza has returned, for I am in hopes now of having some of her company. I have asked the Dey to permit her to visit me, and he has promised me that I shall be gratified. The Dey of Tunis is recovering from his wounds, but will not, I presume, want Eliza back again, for fear of her taking further vengeance on him. Adieu, dearest Sylvia. + +EMILY BARLOW + + +LETTER 11 + +Sylvia Carey to Emily Barlow + +Toulon, France + +Emily—It is impossible at once to shake off our earliest acquaintance; if it had been you ought not to have expected that I should have taken any notice of your disgusting letters. What offence have I ever given that you should insult me by writing in the language you have? Why annoy me with an account of the libidinous scenes acted between you and the beast whose infamous and lustful acts you so particularly describe? Did I not know the character of your writing well, I should be in hopes I was deceived by some wretch. But no, every part of your writing carries conviction. I have to thank God the letters fell into my hands, else your infamy would have dragged another crime on your guilty head by the death of my unfortunate brother who most certainly would have fallen under the dreadful discovery if he had by accident gone (which he most usually does) to the post office for our letters. Although the letters were directed to me, he would assuredly have opened them had he seen your writing. But thank God this pang has at present been spared him. After you sailed from Portsmouth, Henry's health became daily worse, and the physicians declared that nothing but a warmer climate would save his life. I was therefore determined to pass the summer in the South of France and the neighbourhood of this place was fixed upon for our residence. Your mother determined to accompany us. We made the journey by stages, and on arriving here hired a most delightful cottage, a short walk outside the fortifications of the town, opposite the sea. Here Henry's health has daily improved, and both our parents are in hopes of his entire recovery. The time when he expects to hear from you in India is not yet expired, so at present he is easy on this point. God knows what the result will be when he hears of your debased situation, and the infamous satisfaction it gives you! Your mother is the only person I have dared to communicate the sad tidings to, and we have given particular direction to the postmaster at Toulon not to permit Henry to have any letters directed to either of us. We therefore feel sure that none of your letters can fall into his hands. I cannot describe your mother's grief, which she is obliged to hide from my brother; it is evidently making rapid inroads on her constitution. I am enabled to write to you direct as a vessel is now leaving for the port of Algiers with some missionaries on board for the redemption of slaves; but the nature of your letters has so distracted your mother that she does not know how to proceed, or whether it is your wish to be released from the infamous subjection in which your beastly ravisher seems to hold both your person and senses. If there is a spark of feeling, on your mother's account (or modesty on your own) left, make no delay in letting me know if you wish to escape from the wretch who thus holds you in his thraldom. I subscribe myself still your friend (if you deserve it), + +SYLVIA CAREY + +This letter was written before the receipt of Emily's last letter. + + +LETTER 12 + +The Dey to Abdallah + +Abdallah—A short time back several missionaries arrived here from the South of France since their arrival they have been employed in redeeming several worn-out old male slaves, mostly Frenchmen. They have petitioned me to grant them a passage home in the first ship that leaves for the port of Toulon. + +For the reason herein explained, I have appointed you to carry them to France. As these holy hypocrites have great influence in their own country, be careful you treat them with the proper respect and attention during their voyage, as their countenance may be serviceable, particularly Father Angelo, who will supply you with every information you want respecting an English family now residing in the neighbourhood of Toulon. In this family is a young woman named Sylvia Carey. This girl, Abdallah, you must contrive to secure and bring back with you to Algiers. + +The eunuch who delivers this will give you a private signet, which you may show as soon as you think proper to Father Angelo; it will command his services, and you may rely implicitly upon everything the Christian dog says or does. Mind, Abdallah, I have set my mind on having possession of the girl; do not return without her. Name your own reward, but be careful she is mine. + +ALI + + +LETTER 13 + +Pedro to Angelo + +Angelo—You remember my informing you of the young and lovely daughter of the Marquis of Mezzia having been forced to take the veil in our neighbouring Ursuline Convent. It now appears this beautiful creature has become a sacrifice to the pride of the family; its revenue being comparatively beggarly, no fortune could be given with her in marriage, so there was no choice. Either the brother must have been reduced to the necessity of seeking a support by some profession (or other means equally disgusting to the pride of the old Marquis), or this young innocent must be sacrificed. I need not explain to you, who was so long the confessor of the late Marquis, the poverty and pride of both him and young Mezzia. Paternal feeling or any other social tie which should have protected and supported the beauteous flower, all sank before the imaginary stain that might be inflicted on the honour of the house by curtailing the means of one of its descendants. This quickly decided the proud, unfeeling father and cruel brother, so at the age of seventeen, all her young beauties just ripening into perfection, was the almost broken-hearted Julia Mezzia forced to utter oaths her heart abhorred, devoting her voluptuous charms to the service of religioncharms, Angelina, only fit for the service of vigorous man. + +As I before gave you the full particulars of the distressing ceremony, I need not revert to it. But although beauty may be strictly confined by walls and bars, nature will still assume its mighty empire. This lovely virgin has been caught in an attempt to escape from the horrors of a cell for life. She was taken in the act of descending the wall, being betrayed by a sister of the convent, to whom in youthful confidence she had imparted her design. The penalty is death, unless mercy can be purchased for her; but such means as is necessary I do not think the Mezzia family can command, and if they could I shall take care with his Holiness that it has no effect. + +You see, Angelo, this blushing rose must be mine. She will be shortly brought to her trial and condemned by the abbess to be buried alive. A report will then be forwarded to the grand vicar, who will procure his Holiness's fiat. It will be my duty to prevent any petitions in her favour being heard. Fare thee well! you will soon hear of my success. + +PEDRO, ABBOT OF ST FRANCIS + + +LETTER 14 + +Pedro to Angelo + +She is mine, soul and body mine. I have the delicious angel safe in my secret apartments in the convent, where uncontrolled I revel and feed upon her thrilling beauties. She came to my fierce embrace a blushing, timid maid. Oh, Angelo, how delicious were the moments spent in unravelling the Gordian knot of her coy chastity! How sweet to the ear was the soft cry that announced the expiration of her virginity. Angelo (believe me when I write it), the very moment I saw the parlour grating close upon the lovely Mezzia on the afternoon she received the veil, a prophetic spirit whispered in mine ear, 'She is mine.' She is mine—only mine—wholly mine. Nearly the whole of last night was I voluptuously encircled by her wary limbs, her young budding breasts rapturously beating against my manly bosom, her glowing cheek fondly pressed to mine, and only removed to resign her balmy lips to my burning kisses. Night of exquisite rapture! May it never be weakened in the tablet of memory! As I predicted, Angelo, for her attempt to escape from the convent, the austere Abbess of St Ursuline immediately called a chapter to try this lovely disgrace to our holy religion. Her friends were notified of her infamous attempt, and in due time the trial took place, in the presence of her father, brother and friends. Sister Sophia, the nun in whom my young pupil had misplaced her confidence, was the principal evidence against her. It appears before she was excluded from the world an attachment had subsisted between her and a young nobleman, whose name was the only thing Julia had not acquainted Sister Sophia with. As he luckily escaped in the confusion of securing Julia, he has nothing to fear. The poor girl had no defence. The detection was too public. What she urged in mitigation of her fault not only incensed the abbess more and more against her, but absolutely caused her father and brother to deny and abandon her to her fate altogether. + +She publicly avowed that she was compelled to take the veil by her father and brother, and called on heaven to witness the truth of her assertion and protect her in her distress. Her father and brother fled the convent venting curses on her, and she was condemned by the chapter to be buried alive. Oh, Angelo, how great was my joy at hearing this sentence. You are the only one of the order to whom I have communicated the fact of the existence of a subterraneous passage from my dormitory to the tomb of death in the convent of St Ursuline. Guess with what impatience I waited the result of the case from Rome. The sentence of the chapter being confirmed, the following day was appointed for depositing the victim in the dreadful sepulchre. In the meantime, I descended and conveyed by our subterraneous entrance a comfortable mattress and other conveniences, and I also cleaned out the dungeon of the filth and vermin, so that the tender girl should be able at least to sleep without interruption during the time I intended she should stay there; that you may be sure would be no longer than to make her thankful to surrender her person to my desires when I afforded her an opportunity to escape from death by starvation. I shall not disgust you with an account of the ceremony of forcing this young creature down the marble jaws of the tomb opened in the Ursuline church. Suffice it to say that a rope of sufficient length was fixed firmly round her waist, and, in spite of her struggles and screams, she was carried and held over the dreadful opening and then gradually lowered into the frightful abyss, her cries making the church echo, until the marble slab enclosed her, as it was supposed, from the world forever. I had placed by the side of the mattress sufficient provisions to last her for a day, intending to leave her to reflection for about two or three days; by that time I had no doubt hunger and fear would have so reduced her that to escape from her horrid prison she would quickly submit to any terms I should propose. + +On the third day of the incarceration, after vespers, I took my dark lantern and again trod the subterraneous passage. On arriving at the secret entrance of the tomb, I waited a considerable time ere I could ascertain whether she was awake. At last I was assured she slept. With caution I opened the door and silently approached the unconscious sleeper. Removing the shade off the light by degrees, I turned it on her face, fearing to awaken her by letting it flash instantly on her. Poor girl! how evident was the inroad of care and despair on her lovely countenance. She lay her full length on the mattress, her head resting on her right arm, her beautiful tresses playing in confusion over her ivory neck, while the disorder of her veil only half concealed her young, delicious breasts. Her cheeks still retained the traces of recent tears, and her slumbers were disturbed with the horrors of her situation, for unknowingly she uttered, 'Oh, Father, save me!' her whole frame becoming convulsed with the agony even in her dream. I could bear this no longer, but shading my light, coughed loud enough to break the bonds of sleep. + +'What noise was that?' exclaimed the poor sufferer. 'I thought I heard someone move. Oh, no, it was the deception of my giddy brain. Alas, there is no hope for a wretch like me!' + +I seized this opportunity and slowly uttered the word 'Hope.' + +A faint scream, evidently mixed with pleasure, followed my response. After a few second's silence she exclaimed, 'Oh, pray do not play with my wretchedness! If there is anyone near do not drive to despair a miserable girl!' + +'Help is nigh,' was my reply. 'But let not joy deceive you with hopes that may not be fulfilled, your release from death depends entirely upon your submission to certain terms.' + +'Oh, for heaven's sake name them,' she cried; 'keep me not thus in agonising suspense! say what I am to do to save myself from the dreadful lingering anguish of famine I now so powerfully feel.' + +'Listen,' I replied, 'the only terms upon which you can be released from this den of horrors and certain lingering death is the entire submission of your person to enjoyment; this is the only way you can be saved.' At this moment I unshaded my lamp, and let it reflect full on my face. She covered her eyes with her hands, but she did not answer. 'Come,' I cried, 'time wears apace, you must be quick in your resolve, if I leave this dungeon your fate is fixed for ever.' Still there was no answer. I again covered the lamp and solemnly said, 'Well then, farewell,' and moved from her as if I were leaving the tomb. + +'Oh, save me,' she cried, believing I was going. + +'Well then, you consent to submit to my desires—to every desire or request I choose to make?' + +'Oh, yes, everything; save me from death, I will submit to anything.' + +'Then you are saved,' I replied, approaching and taking her in my arms. Her soft lips I drew to mine, and sucking her perfumed breath, I sealed our contract. I now told her it was sometimes the case that the abbess would cause the marble covering to be removed from the tomb to point out to any disobedient nuns the punishment that might await them, therefore her clothes must be laid immediately under the opening that they might be seen. Should such event occur, the depth of the tomb would prevent any possibility of ascertaining whether she was in them, else an immediate search might be made in the tomb, and perhaps her retreat eventually discovered, in which case the power of the church would drag her back to her punishment. I again uncovered my lantern and could clearly see her modesty struggling with her fears. Therefore I told her there must be no delay made. 'Come, come,' I cried; 'we must depart this moment, you must yield to the necessity of plucking off your habit.' She trembled, and said she could not think of being naked, with a confusion which made her look on the escape as scarcely a recompense for the shame she must undergo. No doubt she would have debated the proprietary of it, but I peremptorily cut her short by beginning to get rid of her dress by degrees, getting off one thing, then another, until she was wholly stripped of everything. For the trouble I took in her toilet I rewarded myself as I proceeded. I laid her dress at full length on the ground immediately under the opening of the vault, so that it could plainly be perceived from above bearing the appearance of covering a body. I then fixed a handkerchief over the eyes of Julia, and taking her round the waist, led her out of the vault. In a few minutes she was safe in my private apartments, where a table well laid out with every kind of refreshment awaited her. Carrying her to the sofa by the side of the table, I gently laid her on it, and taking off the bandage from her eyes, with a loving kiss assured her of her safety. Although I well knew she must have been suffering considerably from hunger at the time, still I could not refrain from indulging myself with a few moments' toying with her young beauties ere I permitted her to satisfy nature's wants. It is true as I conducted her through the subterraneous passage, every part of her delicate body had been felt by my eager hands, but that you know, Angelo, was in the dark. Now I had her in my arms, every charm was exposed to the broad glare of day. The unrivalled whiteness of her skin was emphasised by the black velvet of the sofa on which she was laid. Quickly my daring hand seized her most secret treasure, regardless of her soft complaints, which my burning kisses reduced to mere murmurs, while my fingers penetrated into the covered way of love. How transporting is the combat between coy modesty and newborn pleasure. How delicious appears the first blushes of shame on the snowy purity of the virgin's bosom. Ah! Angelo, do you not envy my joys? Guess how I dissolved as my lips wandered over her sweet body! How soft were her cries of 'Ah!' and 'Fie!' I discerned a bright falling tear, but it was the tear of pleasure. Then she tried (but in vain) to remove my hand, whilst her closed eyes clearly told the soft languor was gently creeping on her senses. I scarcely know how to account for my not at that moment exacting my recompense for saving her from the jaws of death. But I did not. I suddenly desisted, and raising her from the position I held her in, drew the table towards the couch, desired she would assist herself to what she thought fit and left the apartment. In my bedroom I had some fine chemises, one of which I brought her and assisted her to put on; it was quite large enough, but of course it was no defence to my curious hands, which I could easily slip to any part of her I pleased. However, I did not interrupt her during her repast, but attended to her wants with the greatest care, forcing her to take two or three glasses of mulled wine, which was already prepared. As the cravings of her appetite were assuaged, mine were every minute growing more furious. Seeing she had finished, although she pretended still to be eating, I gently encircled my arm around her neck; I drew this soft, languishing, sighing and nearly fainting beauty to my bosom, then fixing upon her humid lips a long, burning kiss, I nearly sucked her life away. Whilst occupied in this sweet employment, I unloosened the cord which kept my gown tight around me, and told her I then intended to reap the reward for the service I had rendered her. + +The poor affrighted maid pleaded hard for a moment's pause and, weeping, strove to persuade me to spare her innocence—a token defence of virtue's laws. But I took her into my arms, and then began the soft contention preparatory to the fiercer fight. How delicious was the glow upon her beauteous neck and bare ivory shoulders, as I forced her on her back on the couch! With what voluptuous modesty did she hang her head as in the full tide of vigour I divided her swelling thighs. Quickly was the unspotted maid placed in that position which I did not permit her to rise from until she had forfeited every claim on that name. How luxuriously did her snowy hillocks rise against my bosom in wild confusion. Luckily she did not know what she was about to suffer. The confusion which seized her on my fingers again entering the cell of Venus for the purpose of introducing myself considerably favoured my proceedings. I felt the head of my weapon between her lips, and with a vigorous thrust strove to penetrate, but so cruelly tore her delicate little entrance that she screamed, tried to escape, and effectually threw me out. Inflamed with lechery and rage at this repulse, I swore by heaven if she again resisted I would convey her back to the tomb. Again I forcibly fixed myself between the lips of her yet untasted first fruits. I saw she was much alarmed at my rage and threats. It had a good effect: her fears lessened her defence. I then took every care to make my attack quite certain, and I began the fight of fierce delight, of pleasure mixed with pain. However enormous the disproportion between the place assailed and the attacking instrument, I soon found it piercing inward; her loud cries announced its victorious progress. Nothing now could appease my fury; the more she implored grace the more I pressed on with vigour. But never was conquest more difficult. Oh, how I was obliged to tear her up in forcing her virgin defences! With what delicious tightness she clasped my rod of Aaron, as it entered the inmost recesses of her till then virgin sanctuary. How voluptuous was the heat of her young body! I was mad with enjoyment! Her young breasts rising and falling in wild confusion attracted my caresses. Guess my state of excitement. I sucked them, and at last bit them with delight. Although Julia was much overcome with her suffering, still she reproachfully turned her lovely eyes swimming with pain and languor on me. At this instant, with a final energetic thrust, I buried myself up to the very hair in her. A shriek proclaimed the change in her state; the ecstasy seized me and I shot into the inmost recesses of the womb of this innocent and beautiful child as copious a flood of burning sperm as ever was fermented under the cloak of a monk; whereupon, oh, marvellous effects of nature, the lovely Mezzia, spite of her cruel sufferings, ceded to my vigorous impressments. The pleasure overcame the pain, and the stretching of her ivory limbs, the quivering of her body, the eager clasping of her delicate arms, clearly spoke that nature's first effusion was distilling within her. When somewhat recovered from my ecstasy, without giving up possession of my prize, I lay on her soft bosom contemplating the numerous beauties fate had thrown into my possession. A profusion of dark brown tresses flowed negligently in luxurious curls to below her slender waist; under her fine-formed brows beamed the brightest eyes of ethereal blue ever created; her nose is Roman; her soft blushing cheeks imitate the rose; her teeth are like oriental pearls, whilst her yielding, pouting lips are most admirably turned. But at that moment these delicious inhalers of our fondest impressments were terribly wounded, so boisterous had been my enjoyment of them. Her face is decidedly Grecian, her bosom, shoulders, and neck resemble the purest ivory. On turning my eyes lower, on her young snowy hillocks, I blushed to see the crimson marks which my teeth had left on those lovely orbs. Softly insinuating my arms round her neck, I drew her blushing face to mine, and after impressing a few soft kisses on her yet bleeding lips, anxiously entreated the sweet girl to pardon my cruelty, assuring her with the tenderest oaths that I knew not what I was about, so much had the maddening transports overpowered me. She replied not. I placed one of her beautiful arms around my neck. She suffered it to remain. Again from her pouting lips did I inhale luxurious sweets. + +Although I thought I had distilled my very existence into her, the life-inspiring suction completely reanimated my whole frame. I felt myself in as proud a state of erection within her as when I commenced her defloration; her young breasts heaving quickly, soft sighs, blushes and tremblings, sufficiently told that my prey also felt the return of my vigour. I determined the second enjoyment should amply repay her for all she had suffered, and began my movements with a caution and slowness which made her sigh with voluptuous ecstasy. It was now indeed that I leisurely enjoyed the lingering bliss, as by tender and ravishing degrees I forced myself up to the very quick within her. Scarcely mistress of her feelings, her yielding lips with delicious kisses joined more and more close to mine, blushes deeper and deeper covered her neck and blooming cheeks, her arms closely grasped me. By degrees my thrusts became quicker, but no complaint interrupted my joys. She panted with rapture; her limbs encircled me; she voluptuously heaved to my thrusts, whilst the wanton movements of her body and limbs, her ardent transports, her soft kisses, gave ample testimony of how quick the transition is from coy chastity to unrestrained luxurious enjoyment. + +In short, I was as blessed as youth and voluptuous beauty could make me, until forced to retire from her arms to attend to my monastery duties. They were quickly dispatched, and after refreshing myself with a few hours' rest, I returned to my captive with recruited strength for the night's soft enjoyment. A smile of welcome was on her lovely countenance; she was dressed from a wardrobe I had pointed out to her, containing everything fit for her sex, with grateful pleasure I instantly perceived that her toilet had not been made for the mere purpose of covering her person, but every attention had been paid to setting off her numerous charms. The most care had been given to the disposing of her hair, whilst the lawn which covered her broad voluptuous breasts was so temptingly disposed that it was impossible to look upon her without burning desire. She sprang off the couch to meet me; for a moment I held her from me in an ecstasy of astonishment, then drawing her to my bosom, planted on her lips a kiss so long and so thrilling it was some moments ere we recovered from its effects. My passions were instantly in a blaze. I carried her to the side of the couch, placed her on it, and whilst sucking her delicious lips, uncovered her neck and breasts, then seizing her legs lifted them up, and threw up her clothes. A dissolving sentiment struggled with my more amorous desires. I stooped down to examine the voluptuous, glorious view. How luscious was the sight! Every part of her body was ivory whiteness, firmness and delicacy; the whole was perfect, everything charming; the white interspersed with small blue veins showed the transparency of the skin, whilst the darkness of the hair, softer than velvet, formed most beautiful shades, making a delicious contrast with the vermilion lips of her new-stretched love sheath, the brilliant vermilion of the shell evidently heightened with the blood of her defunct virginity. Tired of admiring without enjoyment, I carried my mouth and hand to everything before me, until I could no longer bear myself. Raising myself from my stooping position, I extended her thighs to the utmost, and placed myself standing between them, then letting loose my rod of Aaron, which was no sooner at liberty but it flew up with the same impetuosity with which a tree straightens itself when the cord that keeps it bent towards the ground comes to be cut, with my right hand I directed it towards the pouting slit so that the head was soon in. Laying myself down on her, I drew her lips to mine; again I thrust, I entered. Another thrust buried it deeper; she closed her eyes, but tenderly squeezed me to her bosom; again I pushed; her soft lips rewarded me. Another shove caused her to sigh deliciously—another push made our junction complete. I scarcely knew what I was about; everything now was in active exertion—tongues, lips, bellies, arms, thighs, legs, bottoms, every part in voluptuous motion until our spirits completely abandoned every part of our bodies to convey themselves into the place where pleasures reigned with so furious but still with so delicious a sentiment. I dissolved myself into her at the very moment nature had caused her to give down her tribute to the intoxicating joy. My lovely prey soon came to herself, but it was only to invite me by her numberless charms to plunge her into the same condition. She passed her arms round my neck and sucked my lips with dovelike kisses. I opened my eyes and fixed them on hers; they were filled with dissolving languor; I moved within her, her eyes closed instantly. The tender squeeze of her love sheath round my instrument satisfied me as to the state she was in. Again I thrust. 'Ah!' she sighed, 'the pleasure suffocates me.' I thrust furiously; her limbs gradually stiffened, she gave one more movement in response to the fierce thrusts made into her organ; we both discharged together. + +It will be no use, Angelo, to give you any further description of my enjoyment of this adorable child, but the agonising reflection that I must part with my delicious prize nearly drives me to distraction. During cooler moments I have explained to her the necessity of a separation, and pointed out to her the danger of her remaining in this country. The solemn assurance I have given her of her safety from the fangs of the church has tendered to comfort her. But then, Angelo, how can I force myself to part with so voluptuous a creature? Advise and counsel your friend. + +PEDRO + + +LETTER 15 + +Angelo to Pedro + +Holy St Peter, spare me! What in the name of Beelzebub has taken possession of you? How can you force yourself to part with this voluptuous creature? How did your reverence contrive to force yourself from the arms of Camilla, Rosa St Peter, the poor fisherman's daughter Bianca, and the half a dozen other young beauties whom I have conveyed over the sea to the great gratification of the Turks in Algiers and Tunis, but to the much greater gratification of ourselves, by well lining our own pockets with African gold? Write to me again in about a fortnight; let me know if the fever is still hot upon you. I guess about that time you will be somewhat cooler; at all events a month is the utmost time I can afford you for your amusement with your new-found charmer. In six weeks I shall be ready to depart with the cartel for Algiers. You know that under our agreement I ought to have at least a fortnight's enjoyment of the girl on shore. The time spent on the voyage to Algiers is so very short that these young creatures, from sickness, very rarely afford me any pleasure. I wish you could contrive to get a pure maid or two for the Dey of Algiers. I could get almost any price for one, so fond is he of cutting off maidenheads. But I forget myself, you are equally as bad as the Dey himself in that respect, so I must try to procure one myself. Let me know at your earliest leisure when I may expect the young Mezzia. + + +LETTER 16 + +Pedro to Angelo + +You are correct in your observation, Angelo—uncontrolled possession, in time, surely abates the fiercest passions. It is now three weeks since I relieved the youthful Mezzia of her virginity, every subsequent night having been passed in her delicious arms, the novelty of her beauties begins I find to lose its invigorating effect. But still, Angelo, I dread the arrival of the day I must part with her. She has been particularly inquisitive as to where she is to be sent. I have pacified her by stating she is going to Ireland, part of the kingdom of Great Britain, where the great mass of the population are Catholic. When she heard they were Catholic her fears at first resumed their sway, but were removed when she was solemnly assured that it was out of the power of the clergy there to contemn or punish anyone, convents and incarceration of females being no part of the law of that kingdom. + +This day week is appointed for our separation. She has begun to amuse herself by sorting the clothes I have given her in trunks previous to her departure. I have been extremely liberal in my gifts, particularly in the old jewels and ornaments which you know have served for the same purpose so many times. She is very lovely, Angelo, and will fetch a magnificent price, maid or no maid. I suppose it would be of no use attempting to pass her off at Algiers as a virgin? I am afraid the eunuchs belonging to the Dey's seraglio are too well experienced in these matters. Farewell. But I forgot I have informed her that she will be consigned to my sister, the Lady Abbess at the Convent of St Theresa. So you must for a few hours assume your old disguise of the abbess, which will deliver her to your enjoyment without trouble. May the saint you most approve of have you in his holy keeping. + +PEDRO + + +LETTER 17 + +Angelo to Pedro + +I do not wonder at your regret at parting with the young, beautiful Mezzia. She is indeed a bijou. Happy Pedro! indeed I envy you the joys supreme—joys you must have tasted in her arms when with amorous fury you plucked the virgin rose. She arrived here in safety. I had her conveyed unseen into our unknown and private retreat. Of course I assumed the disguise of the lady abbess, your sister, which I think I acted extremely well. The poor innocent had no suspicion of the deception, although the kiss I gave her in receiving her from your messenger was warm enough. I gave her to understand that I was aware of her escape from the tomb, but made not the least hint of any knowledge as to what had passed between you. She appeared extremely low and dejected. I did everything to comfort her. But I must leave off until tomorrow, when you shall hear how I get on with her. After supper I told her, as it was a very lonely part of the convent, we would pass the night together, but that for a short time I should leave her to get the key of the convent from the porter sister; during my absence she might get into bed, which, you know, is quite large enough for two. In seven or eight minutes I returned with a key in my hand, which I laid on the table. She was nearly undressed. I sat down pretending to read a missal, but in fact was wandering over the numerous charms she disclosed at every turn to my ardent (but to her unseen) gaze. At last she got into bed, upon which I drew the curtains and got undressed myself. This I despatched as well as the awkwardness of the dress would let me, and having put on a proper female nightdress, I got into bed, intending to lie still until she was asleep, and then to make myself master of her person whilst she was unconscious of what I was about. But accident gave her up to my enjoyment sooner than I expected. + +You may suppose the state I was in, placed by the side of such a delicious creature. In fact I was in the most fierce erection possible when, in turning herself, the unsuspecting girl placed her hand upon my throbbing instrument. You had too well cultivated her to leave her in doubt as to what she had felt. A faint scream satisfied me as to the discovery. It was no use to carry on the deception further with her. I therefore seized her in my arms and stopped her cries with my kisses; in fact she screamed so loud at being suddenly grasped by me that I was almost afraid she might be heard by someone. I quickly reminded her of how much depended on her silence—her life might be the forfeit of her folly, you may rely upon it that whilst trying to quiet her screams I was not otherwise idle. I threw myself on her—her thighs were quickly divided. Her cries subsided but tears flowed. I gave her very little time to reflect whether it was best to alarm the convent, or to suffer in peace. It was not more than fourteen or fifteen seconds from the time of her discovering my sex ere what she had laid her hand on was safely lodged to its full extent in its natural receiver. There can be no doubt she gained by its discovery. How magical is the influence of the distinction of our sex over the feelings of the softer one. Shrieks, cries, tears and resistance accompanied the discovery and my seizing of her, but directly she felt its head dividing her lips of life her resistance ceased, and her cries became hushed; as it penetrated her tears became dried; but when it pierced her up to the quick, soft exclamations, tremulous sighs and a general trembling of the limbs and body only accompanied our complete junction. Nature had already assumed its sway—a few rapid thrusts gave a fillip to pleasure and as my movements became quicker, so did the seduction overpower the little remains of modesty you had left her. In short, she quickly received as much pleasure as she bestowed, if I may judge from the sweetness of her kisses, the ardency of her pressures, with a thousand other little etceteras which cannot be described and are only felt in the high enjoyment. In short, so mutually had the ecstasy operated on us that the dissolving moment seized us at the same time. Oh, Pedro, how ecstatic was her joy as the essence of life was shot up to her vitals! Her delicate arms closely encircled my body, her legs were crossed over my loins holding me as strongly as if grasped by a vice, nor did she loosen her hold until she had extracted the very last drop from me. Then the gradual unclasping of her arms and legs, the conclusive stretching of her body, the delicious trembling shudder, all feelingly spoke how much her senses had been gratified. This was indeed a night of joy for me! I had for a month refrained from sexual intercourse and consequently was in a state to give as well as taste myself the most luxurious transports. If beauty is necessary to renew the vigour after repeated enjoyment, Mezzia possesses every charm to excite the desires enjoyment has cooled. We did not close our eyes during the night, which was spent in a continued round of varied pleasure of the most delicious nature. The sun had risen in the east ere Morpheus placed his heavy finger on our eyelids. + +She has asked me the reason for your deceiving her about your sister. I put the best face on it, and informed her it arose from your wish not to alarm her by letting her know she was to be consigned to a friar. I also gave her to understand that I was perfectly acquainted with all that had passed between you and her, and as an excuse for myself boldly told her it was utterly impossible to resist the temptation thrown in my way by fortune of making myself as happy with her as you had been. I only regretted that the time she was doomed to be mine was so short. After three or four days passed with her she became extremely curious in her enquiries as to what kind of place Ireland was. I parried her enquiries by informing her that so much had her charms affected me that I had determined to abandon Italy altogether, and should marry her when we arrived in Ireland (when we do, perhaps I may). The child believed me. Indeed her charms do provoke me exceedingly. + +Although every night is spent in her soft embraces, there is not a day passes but I gratify my senses of seeing, feeling and enjoying her with every excitement the sight and touch are capable of giving. In fact I do not recollect a female who had the power of so strongly exciting my passions, nor do I think I ever enjoyed a girl with half the assiduity or rapidity I have her. I consider her superior in her motions to any woman I ever enjoyed, and the heat and tightness of her love sheath give an indescribable voluptuousness to the rapture. Adieu, Pedro. If I do not write to you again before I sail for Algiers, you may not expect to hear from me until I return. + +ANGELO + + +LETTER 18 + +Emily Barlow to Maria Williams + +London, 8 May 1816 + +Dearest Maria—You requested me in your last letter to write you an account of my life while at Algiers. I thought I could not do better than send you a copy of my letter to Sylvia Carey. I have also sent with them a parcel of letters belonging to Father Angelo, a Roman Catholic priest, who left them by accident on board Abdallah's ship while at Toulon. This priest was employed by the Dey in concert with Abdallah to secure my friend Sylvia, as you will see by the Dey's letter to Abdallah. + +I will now continue my history from the time that I received Sylvia's last letter. I had been with child about six months, when the Dey's neglect assured me some fresh worthy engaged his amorous moments. A rumour ran that it was a countrywoman of mine. The Dey was immovable; neither myself nor any of my companions could get the secret out of him, until one day the chief eunuch told me in a confidential manner that if I chose I could see my rival. Although I hated her in my heart for robbing me of that which was dear to me, my curiosity got the better of my feelings, and I accepted his offer. He led me through several rooms I had never been in before, until we came to a large chamber parted in the middle by a curtain. My guide motioned me to look as he drew the curtain apart. The first object that met my eyes was a naked female leaning on a couch, face downward, and the Dey with his noble shaft plunged up to the hilt in her. At this moment the Dey turned his head and discovered me. Surprise nailed me to the spot. He clasped his hands around his lady, raised her from the recumbent position, still keeping his weapon in her, wheeled round and brought her full to my view. Imagine to yourself, dearest Maria, what must have been my emotions on my beholding in his arms my friend Sylvia, she who had added to my anxiety by her unfeeling letter. I uttered a hurried exclamation and fainted. + +On my recovery I found myself in bed and Sylvia bending over me. 'Forgive me, dearest Emily,' she exclaimed, 'for the harsh letter I wrote you. Little did I then think that I too should fall a sacrifice to the dear wicked Dey. I now wonder how you could have so eloquently described the very things that have occurred to me. But compose yourself, my dear, the Dey has forbid me giving you any account of myself, as he wishes to narrate it himself.' + +The next day I was sitting on the sofa when the Dey entered my apartment. I tried to frown on him, but could not, for he drew his robe on one side and disclosed that delightful instrument that attunes my heart to harmony. I threw myself on my back, and in a moment his highness was in the pinnacle of bliss. Thrice did he return my embraces ere he withdrew; then, seating himself beside me on the couch, he began as follows. + +'You no doubt are dying with curiosity to know how your friend came into my possession, but what a silly child you must have been to suppose that I would have permitted you to write letters and receive answers without myself knowing the contents. I had a hearty laugh over what you told your friend, and I assure you I equally enjoyed the answer you received from her, but was determined to pay the minx for calling me a beast if it lay in my power. You recollect she stated she was at Toulon. One of my ships was about to sail for that port. I sent for Captain Abdallah and offered him a liberal reward to abduct the young lady. He found little difficulty in effecting his purpose, and about a month since he returned with this coy lady to Algiers. Whilst he was gone I was much puzzled how I should proceed with her. After canvassing twenty different modes of subduing her to my pleasure, I determined on the following as the most likely to add to my gratification in debauching her. I determined on her arrival to represent a French physician, and make her fly into my arms in that character to avoid me in my real one. + +'In pursuance of this scheme I fitted up the slave driver's house at the bottom of the palace gardens in every way proper to represent the house of a medical man of some eminence. For a purpose which I shall by and by explain I caused to be made in the principal sitting-room a secret recess or cupboard, so well contrived that no one could discover it, although at the same time those inside could see and hear quite plainly everything passing in the room. My arrangements were quite finished before she arrived. I had an interview with Abdallah prior to her being brought on shore. When he had received his instructions for his little part in the drama of deception, his description of her gratified me much. I longed for the moment to arrive when her naked beauties were to be offered to my inspection. + +'If there is anything that tends to the subjection of a haughty woman, it is the attacking of her modesty at once in the most sensible part. Nothing tends to humble coy chastity so much as our system of the slave market where captives are exposed, naked, and left unreservedly to the sight and feel of whoever chooses to bid for them. The most stubborn beauty will in time inevitably fall under its subduing influence. Next morning she was brought on shore and placed in one of the slave bazaars, under the direction of Abdallah. She was stripped entirely naked, then a silk cloak was given her to wrap herself in, until my eunuch came to examine whether she was worthy of being sent to my serail, as I had first choice. This Abdallah informed her of in her own language. You may guess her state of alarm. In the course of the morning one of my eunuchs, attended by four black slaves, went to the bazaar in state. Abdallah requested her to throw off her cloak; this she refused to do; consequently they were obliged to take it from her by force, as they were also obliged to lay her on her back on a couch so that the eunuch might examine her properly as to her virginity. The four slaves with difficulty held her down whilst the eunuch performed his duty. + +'She struggled and screamed without intermission whilst Hassan, the eunuch, made his survey. When he had finished he asked Abdallah, in French, what was demanded for her; he answered (in the same language), twelve purses. Hassan replied that he doubted whether she was a virgin, and that he did not think she would suit the Dey. "But," asked he, "of what country is she?"' + +'On being informed she was English, "Oh," he replied, "the Dey has sworn never to have another Englishwoman, since he was obliged to strangle Zulima a few days ago." Theodora (the name I had ordered for her), who understood perfectly every word that was spoken, on hearing of your supposed death, forgot her own troubles and feinted. By proper remedies she was quickly restored to her senses, but every precaution was taken to make her believe no one cared about her swooning. + +Hassan refused to purchase her and left the bazaar. This farce was repeated by several of my eunuchs during the day, some objecting to the price, some finding fault with her person—all declining to purchase her, but all examining her and feeling her parts as to her fitness for the station she was doomed to be placed in. It was evident to Abdallah that she began to submit to her destiny, she plainly saw, however it might outrage her modesty, there was no evading the examinations which were scrupulously attended to in that most secret part for which to be touched by man is nearly a death blow to chastity. Of course, I did not permit her to be seen by anyone but my own slaves, in various disguises; all the while the poor girl thought she was in the public market for sale. + +'Abdallah now, in her own language, began to abuse her for want of attraction in not finding a quick sale. This was the moment appointed for the performance of my part of the play. I accordingly entered the room like the others, and made her undergo the necessary examinations, first feeling her beautiful ivory breasts, then slipping my hand down over her smooth satin belly till, descending, my fingers mixed with the soft down which covered and beautifully shaded her grotto of love. + +'The poor girl I thought would have sunk to the ground whilst undergoing this touching ceremony—indeed she would have had I not supported her; but I proceeded in my search, heedless of her tears. Softly I seized on the delicious lips of her virgin opening, and forced my forefinger half in. I finished my search and asked Abdallah her price. He treated me as if I had been a person of no consequence, and lowered his demand from twelve to eight purses. I bid him seven purses for her, which he refused to take. I told him I could not afford to give more, and then enquired what country she came from. He then informed me from France, at which, pretending to be much astonished, I asked her in French (in which we had been talking all along) whether she had understood what we said if she was a Frenchwoman? As well as her feeling would permit her, she answered in good French that she was English. Nearly choked with tears, she informed me of the manner in which she had been torn from her friends, and submissively entreated me to give the price demanded for her, assuring me I should have it and much more for ransom. I pretended to take great interest in what she said; asked her many questions as to the rank and property of her friends, which she represented, there is no doubt, in their true light. On my expressing doubts if I should get the sum back if I bought her, she assured me over and over again there was no occasion to have the least mistrust, and again and again piteously entreated me to save her from further shame. I at last pretended to be overcome by her tears and supplications and therefore told Abdallah he should have his demand. He appeared quite glad to get rid of her. Under the pretence of ordering a palanquin to convey her to my home, and purchasing some dresses, I went out. Whilst I was absent Abdallah informed her I was a Frenchman, and first physician in Algiers, also deputy consul for that nation, and that she could not have fallen into better hands. On returning I observed with pleasure a considerable alteration for the better in her looks. When she had attired herself in the robes and veil I had brought her, she was conducted to the palanquin, and the maid was soon in the house at the bottom of the garden. + +The large room had been fitted up in a very handsome style, suitable to a man of my supposed rank. Among the necessaries, you may suppose convenient couches were not omitted. Adjoining was a smaller room, only partitioned off by a fine silk curtain; this was arranged for sleeping or (more properly speaking) for the purpose of enjoyment. In introducing her to the boudoir I plainly felt the hand of Theodora tremble; no doubt the appearance of the place strongly indicated its use. However, I took no notice of her fears, but told her at present they were the apartments she was to occupy. I pointed out to her where she would find every article of dress, and also informed her I would send one of my women to attend and help her at her toilet, as she might be in some difficulty as to how the garments were worn. She timidly asked me what I meant by one of my women. I explained to her the custom of the country—that it was usual to have as many women here as we could support, who were bought in the same manner as I had purchased her, that I had two slaves of the kind, one of whom should attend and assist her; that it was impossible for me to marry a Mahometan, being myself a Protestant Christian. She looked at me fearfully, and said she hoped no advantage would be taken of her unhappy condition and waited with breathless anxiety my answer. I approached her, and taking one of her hands in mine and encircling her waist with the other, solemnly assured her that her modesty or virtue had nothing to fear from me. "I have bought you for the purpose of returning you to your country and friends, and by this kiss of friendship," said I, drawing her soft lips to mine, "you have nothing to fear." She blushingly submitted her lips to my pressure. I did not encroach upon her good nature, but requested she would make herself as happy as possible and assured her that no time should be lost in communicating with her friends. + +'I left her and sent a handsome Circassian girl to assist her in dressing. As the slave could not speak a word except in her native language, there was no fear of her betraying who I was. I told her what she was to do, and to return when she had finished. In about an hour the slave came back, and I returned to the apartment of Theodora. I was indeed struck by the blaze of beauty she exhibited when dressed after our fashion, her coal-black hair, beautifully parted over her noble ivory forehead, peeping out from beneath her headdress. "My God," I cried, "how is it possible the chief eunuch of the Dey could have passed over charms such as you possess?" The name of the Dey brought the recollection of him to her, and she dropped on a couch overcome by her feelings. She entreated me with tears not to name the Dey again to her. Of course, I promised to comply with her wishes, but demanded how it was the name of the Dey affected her so much, a person she could know nothing of. "Ah," she replied, "I know more of him than you are aware, of." On my expressing my surprise and incredulity, she was induced to enter into the history of your falling into my hands. Every now and then I interrupted her revelations with expressions of astonishment, but she did not mention the last letter she had written to you. Then she related what she had heard between Abdallah and Hassan in the morning, and enquired whether I believed there was any truth in it. I assured her it was impossible to tell, but such things the Dey was particular in. It was nothing to him to order a female to be strangled in consequence of the slightest offence. The poor girl was much affected at my corroboration of Hassan's assertion. My respectful behaviour was evidently every moment establishing me in her confidence. After we had dined I informed her that the greater part of the morning was devoted to attending my patients, but tomorrow afternoon should be spent in preparing the necessary correspondence with her friends in France. Towards the evening I asked her if she would walk in the garden towards the sea. I had taken care to give very particular orders that no one should be permitted in there, or on the sea beach at the back of the harem. She took hold of my arm during our walk, and seemed to gain courage and spirits as her fears evidently decreased at my seeming respect. After walking until we were tired, we returned to the house— + +A blushing lovely maid she entered it, +But ere she left was quite another thing. + +'I did not accompany her to her apartments, but took leave below, respectfully kissing her hand, and assuring her that on the morrow I would get back from my professional pursuits as early as possible, and the remainder of the day should be devoted to her service. She little dreamt of the service I meant. + +'I had selected a slave to attend on her who spoke French, so there was no difficulty as to anything she might want. Next day, in the afternoon, on being announced to her I found her comparatively easy in her mind. After the usual compliments I proceeded to business. The writing materials were brought and we set to work opposite the window which commanded a view of the garden and the long walk but left us entirely screened ourselves. Whilst busy on the letter, on a signal given by one of my attendants, which was merely the imitation of the chirping of a bird, I pretended to look accidentally out of the window, and started up with astonishment, saying, "What can he want here?" Getting up so suddenly alarmed Theodora, who with horror instantly recognised Hassan coming up the long walk. "My God," said I aloud to myself, without paying any attention to her, but alive to her state of mind. Her fears immediately acted just as I wished. She sprang forward and clung round my neck, saying, "Oh, save me, save me! It is me he wants; I fear it; I feel it. Oh, in the name of God save me." "I dare not—my life, everything is at stake," I replied. "But stop, perhaps you are alarmed without cause." I rang the bell. The servant who answered was directed to meet Hassan, and if he asked for me to say I was gone to my country house with a female slave. The papers were quickly carried to the private recess ready provided, in which we also hid ourselves. We had not been concealed long ere a considerable noise was heard between Hassan and my servant. Presently they both entered the room wrangling. The servant said, '"You see, he is not here." Hassan replied, "But my orders are peremptory. I am to search for the English slave and bring her to the Dey's harem. I have nearly lost my life for not purchasing her yesterday." + +'Here Theodora had sunk on my bosom; it was only with the greatest difficulty I could stop her sobs. But there was no fear of Hassan hearing her, even had she made more noise than she did. However, I took the opportunity of closing her mouth with my lips, softly encouraging her not to give way to her fears, assuring her she would be protected at the risk of my life. Hassan proceeded to search the sleeping apartments, but did not find what he sought. He told my servant that he must proceed after me to my country seat, for his life depended on his success. When he was gone we emerged from our confinement. It was now necessary something should be done. To escape from Algiers was utterly impossible. In the course of five or six hours Hassan would surely return. For some time I appeared utterly lost. How to act I knew not. She still clung to me, bathing me with tears, entreating me to kill her rather than deliver her up to the cruel Dey. Time rapidly slipped away—three hours had already passed—nothing decided on. Every moment her despair was growing stronger. She was in my arms, her head resting on my bosom, my waistcoat moistened with her tears. Suddenly, starting up, I summoned the attendant and demanded if he was a true believer. He replied he was. "Is it written," said I anxiously, "in your Koran, and expressly forbidden by Mahomet, that no true believer should meddle with the wife of another, whether Mussulman or otherwise?" It was his reply, "So has the Prophet written." "Fetch me a Koran." It was brought. The attendant pointed out a verse which I pretended to translate to her. "It is your only chance of escape," I cried. "Become my wife and you escape pollution, and perhaps something more; there is no other way of avoiding the tyrant." Her fears of the Dey quickly decided her fate; she consented. + +'I instantly pretended to write a letter to the Protestant minister of the English consul's family, which we both signed—I told her he would not attend unless we both requested it. Everything had been fully prepared. She saw me direct the letter to the English Consul. Everything tended to lull her into security, in about an hour more Ben Izacks, the English Jew diamond merchant whom I had directed to perfect himself in the part of an English priest for the completion of my scheme, arrived with all the assurance of his sect, cleverly disguised to perform the ceremony. The ring was ready, the contract made out, when my bride requested to speak a few words to the clergyman in private. I immediately withdrew with the witnesses who were of course my own slaves, in a few minutes I was summoned by the Jew. I afterwards learned from him that the only question she asked of him was whether he was certain I was a Christian. You may suppose he perfectly satisfied her on that point. Without further delay the ceremony proceeded. Izacks performed his part with proper solemnity. She had just sufficient strength left to pronounce the mystic oath, and at the very instant the ceremony was finished she sank fainting in my arms, unable longer to support the flurry and disorder of her feelings. I instantly dismissed Izacks and the attendants. Alone I supported her into the boudoir, where I intended the consummation should directly take place. + +'Assuming now the privileges of a husband, I placed her on the couch, and tenderly clasping her to my bosom soon reaped a rich harvest of soft thrilling kisses. With a trembling sigh the languishing maid opened her heavenly black eyes, but unable to bear my gaze quickly shut them again. I now boldly explained to her the absolute and immediate necessity of her resigning to me the blessing I was entitled to in the enjoyment of her person, for in this country a marriage is a nullity until the husband has consummated it. Should the wretch Hassan return and find we had omitted any part of the ceremony, instant advantage would be taken of it, therefore all we had done would be of no use. Whilst I was thus explaining myself, I was also busily unbuttoning the bodice which covered the beauties of her bosom, every now and then placing on her soft rosy lips the most delicious kisses. She but feebly resisted. How shall I describe her delightful confusion when my hand boldly slid over her panting globes? It is impossible; words cannot do justice to the situation. Although I was using the absolute authority of a husband over her you will recollect that her submission to my proceedings was entirely from fear created by the dread of myself, only in another shape. Ours was not a union of love, but one hastily submitted to by her to save herself from the embraces of an imaginary brutal monster created by her fears and false information alone. Under such circumstances there could of course be very little love on her side, although there might be some little respect for the service I had rendered her—in the supposed risk I was running in offending the Dey by marrying her. Thus, although she had no pretext left on which to oppose every liberty I now took with her beautiful person, still I could plainly see, as I was divesting her voluptuous body of its coverings, how dreadful was the shock her modesty sustained in being obliged to resign herself even to a husband. Modesty may struggle, but it very seldom struggles successfully with me. It was evident from her agitation that her bashfulness would have struggled against my proceedings had she not been fettered by the oath of obedience she had just sworn on the altar of God. If she had even found out the deception which had been practised on her, any opposition would have now been fruitless. Her hour of instruction was arrived. I had determined she should receive her lesson. Although not assisted by any tie on her affections, I of course was perfectly aware how quick is the influence of pleasure on the softer sex. If the land is properly cultivated, it will always produce its crops. So it is with lovely women. Rid them of their virginity, enjoy them properly, and it is wonderful to observe the rapidity with which the seed of pleasure will thrive and yield a rich harvest to the happy cultivator. You may guess I was not long preparing myself or my trembling victim for the mighty business. Clasping my lovely beauty in my arms I easily laid her on the cushion and myself by her side. Her swelling snowy breasts heaved with her laboured breathing, with one arm round her neck, the other hand unresistedly traversed all her beauties, until suddenly forcing my hand between her smooth, polished thighs, I took possession of the port of love. Her tremblings, her sighs, increased rapidly; with bashful modesty she entreated, she prayed me to remove my hand. I promised everything for a kiss. However, the kiss taken, I did not keep my word. My reasons were good. It had not been agreed whether it should be given or taken. By dint of bargaining we agreed on a second, which was to be received by me. Then with my unoccupied hand guiding her trembling delicate arms around my neck, and leaning over her to receive it, the soft, thrilling, delicious kiss was not only received, but perfectly given, in such a manner that love could not have done it better. So much good faith deserved to be rewarded. I immediately withdrew my hand, but I do not know by what accident one of my knees occupied the place I had just vacated. A soft struggle ensued, during which half-breathed words and sighs escaped her—every now and then, "Ah", and "you must not", "pray do not", and so on until I had securely placed myself between her soft swelling thighs. This effected, I found not the smallest difficulty in stretching them at pleasure to their utmost spread. Shame and surprise had now quite overpowered my charming, panting, blushing prize. + +'I was not very eager or in great haste to finish my task. I delight in delays when I am certain of coming to the end of the journey. I clearly saw, in spite of her modesty, that my kisses and touches had considerably inflamed her senses, so seizing her left hand with my right, with gentle force I conducted it to the key which I told her was to open the road to the sweetest enjoyments. I entreated her to take it in her hand. She did not reply, but requested me to spare her modesty. "In the name of God," she cried, "have pity on me." Her tears began to flow, but they only added to her beauty, and inflamed me more strongly, so pretending to be much astonished, I reminded her that she was on the conjugal bed, and therefore it was necessary to our common pleasure she should not now show any opposition to my wishes. But it was of no use; she would not be persuaded to take it in her hand. During this contention my member had become furious, and was beating his head against the lips of the port shortly doomed to receive it. + +'Finding her modesty was not to be overcome on this point, I desisted, and taking my instrument in my hand, placed the head between the lips and with my finger and thumb contrived to stretch the delicate little opening sufficiently wide to insert the head entirely. As the moment of her martyrdom approached, so by degrees did her confusion and agitation increase. The insertion of the head of my stiff virgin-stretcher caused her delicious ivory breasts to beat against my bosom with the rapidity of lightning, whilst her milk-white neck and shoulders were covered with burning blushes. She would have spoken, but could not give utterance to the words. However, talking just then was of no great consequence, so making a furious thrust I strove to penetrate her virgin sanctuary, but the avenue was too tight to give way to a first attempt. A second thrust, made with circumspection, was a little more successful; a third and fourth deepened my penetration; at last, as I followed up my success with strength and rapidity, the sweet obstacle began to give way, until I had pierced myself halfway into her. How delicious were the varying expressions which her sweet countenance now exhibited. When she first felt the penetration her confusion was so great she could not keep her eyes open, but as ground was gained the confusion began to dissipate, her eyes lost their unconsciousness, astonishment mixed with pain became clearly marked on her lovely countenance and soft cries began to find vent in spite of my fierce kisses. I now made a desperate effort to break through the remaining defences of her coy chastity, but was prevented by the ecstasy seizing me; the seed of life distilled from me like a deluge. + +'This stopped my proceedings for some moments, but did not force me to withdraw from her. In fact, though I quite overflowed the part penetrated, still very little of my stiffness or vigour was lost. Her soft lips, the nipples of her well-formed breasts, soon renewed my strength. During the cessation of hostilities she entreated me, if I loved her, to withdraw my furious instrument. "You will kill me," she cried in a most piteous voice. "I certainly shall die; it is impossible to sustain your cruel tearing." "If I love you? Can you doubt it? Have I not risked my life for you?" replied I, tenderly sucking her lips, and thrusting my tongue into her mouth. "No doubt, delicious love, the pain you suffer is cruel, but it is entailed upon your sex and it will quickly subside; nor can you participate in the soft joys of love without undergoing the ordeal; therefore, dear maid, submit with courage, the most voluptuous joys will be your reward." At this moment I began to pierce again with all my force; the overflowing of my seed within her considerably assisted, having oiled the road so much that I felt myself gradually stretching her, but still it must have hurt her dreadfully, as her loud cries testified. Pity for her sufferings caused me to stop a moment, to assure her that it was nearly over. "Feel," I cried, "my sweet life, it is nearly all entered." Agitation with her sufferings, or fear of further anguish, I know not which, induced her to obey. She found the truth of my assertion, my instrument was three parts within her, but there it stuck as if it were too thick to enter further. Whilst her hand was upon it, I made a furious effort—again it penetrated. "Ah!" she cried, "stay your cruel thrusts, you murder me!" but collecting all my strength, and making one tremendous lunge, I sent it gloriously and triumphantly into her to the utmost length. The couch which was the field of battle trembled under the shock. You may judge of my vigour for the very curtains of the apartment shook In vain she entreated me to withdraw the arrow which was pierced up to her very entrails. + +'"No," I replied, "it is now all over; you have nothing further to apprehend; from a pure virgin you have become a chaste wife and all that remains to be done is to make the travelling easy to me and pleasurable to you. This, sweet love, can only be effected by judicious and frequent enjoyments. Believe me, from the moment the close union of our bodies proclaimed your maidenhead taken, your sufferings must become less and less acute." My words were supported by actions. Master of the citadel, I assumed all the conqueror's rights. Drawing myself nearly out of her, with one vigorous thrust I plunged back Again and again was the experiment repeated. Her tears flowed, intermixed with cries, sobs and sighs. I desisted not, but whispered, "Courage, courage, my dear love, soon you will feel the softest pleasure." At every fresh thrust the difficulty of entry decreased. Now lost in ravishment indefinable, I grasped her strongly in my arms, and thrust with fury and without care. + +'Her cries had subsided. The ecstatic moment again approaching, I drove myself up to the very hilt; it was impossible to enjoy a more voluptuous conjunction, a copious discharge filled the recesses of her womb; her virginity was gone. I sank insensible in her arms, entirely overcome with the most delicious the most perfect of all earthly enjoyments. + +'On recovering my senses I was still buried securely in my lovely Theodora; her head was reclining on her right shoulder; with gentle respiration her ivory breasts deliriously heaved against my bosom; her eyes were closed, but the pearly dew still glistened in her dark silken eyelashes. Tenderly encircling her neck with my arms, I kissed off the trembling drops. How exquisite was the gratification of my senses at this moment! Still trembling with the ecstasy of having deflowered as pure and lovely a virgin as ever was stretched on the altar of Venus, how thrilling was the joy when I again drew her soft lips to mine, feeding my senses with the luxurious inhalement of her balmy breath, amidst a shower of dove-like kisses! One of her arms, which lay by my side, I gently placed around my neck. She withdrew it not. Gradually her lovely eyes opened and although I could clearly read in their dissolving expression how great was the pain she felt from the enormous machine buried within her, but still with joy I saw by the expression of her eyes that complete possession of her lovely body had reared the bud of tenderness in the senses of my victim. Although at present its blossom was a painful one, the sweetness of her kisses, the voluptuous heaving of her breasts, that indescribable look which true modesty surely shows at the moment it has received its irreparable shock from powerful man, all tended quickly to renew the vigour I had lost in unloosening her virgin zone. The burning blushes which with rapidity covered her neck and shoulders, the increasing heaving of her breasts, the trembling of her limbs and body, all proclaimed the distention she internally felt, caused by her external beauties. To be in this state and be quiet between the swelling thighs of such a beauty was impossible. I gradually withdrew myself nearly out of her. A loud sigh followed my motion—then in like gradual manner I sheathed myself up to the hair—but again on our close junction a cry escaped her. "Idol of my soul," I cried, "does it hurt you? Fear not; bear up but a short time; your sufferings will cease forever." "Indeed, dear sir," she sobbed, "you hurt me cruelly. I shall die—pray spare me." Again I slowly and gradually withdrew myself and returned my instrument into its delicious sheath; but, instead of driving it up to the hilt until our hair mixed as before, when it was all but an inch and a half in I stopped. Finding the insertion accompanied by a deep sigh only, again and again I repeated the movement, tremulous agitation being the only response. Satisfied as I was that this manner of enjoying her did not hurt her much, still it was impossible to continue it long. The enjoyment of her was too exciting to permit me to have complete command of my feelings from the beginning to the end of enjoyment, consequently her beauties soon worked me up into a fury, an agony of delight, my thrusts keeping pace and becoming fiercer as the excitement increased. The strength of my furious shocks made everything around us tremble by their violence. In the intervals between lunges, as I withdrew myself from her, she renewed her painful cries, loudly vociferating, "Oh, pray, sir, spare me—for heaven's sake stop. I cannot bear it—indeed you tear me to pieces—cruel. Ah! oh, I shall die." Then, "Oh, my God." Then again (her voice subduing into softer supplication), "Oh, dear sir, for pity's sake spare me! dear sir, pray forbear." I murmured it was impossible to desist, I could only stop her complaints by closing her mouth with kisses. She saw from my agitation it was in vain to supplicate, so became resigned to her fate. No doubt she felt some consolation as every moment lessened the pain; sighs began to usurp the place of cries and when she withdrew her lips from mine it was only to regain the breath I had nearly sucked away. At this moment I plainly saw that her nature was touched by my energetic proceedings. The ecstasy again seized me, and for the third time I dissolved myself away within her. + +'Thus did I consummate my marriage, and thus did the tender girl forfeit her virginity for her prudery in attacking your feelings. It is true the Rubicon was now passed with her, but I had made up my mind not to undeceive her as to who possessed her maidenhead until she had enjoyed the soft pleasures of coition sufficiently to reward her for the loss, and to make the discovery a matter of no great consequence. Twice more thereafter (making five in the whole) did I make play and force the defunct maid to sustain the assault, each time piercing her up to the quick with the most redoubtable and lively thrusts, and bedewing her burning receiver with the dew of life; then thinking I had effected sufficient for her first instruction, I got up for the purpose of meeting Hassan on his return (as I assured her) but desired she would not disturb herself. After a few more caresses I resigned her to the God of sleep, the only arms but my own or a female's I intend she shall ever repose in. + +'Hassan came at the appointed time. Theodora had fallen into a refreshing slumber, out of which I was obliged to disturb her, but desired her not to be alarmed, assuring her no one should injure her. I explained as quickly as possible that the Dey's eunuch was not satisfied with the assertion that our marriage had been consummated, which rendered it necessary she should again submit to be examined. I pacified her as well as I could, assuring her there was no help for it, but this was the last exposure her modesty would suffer. A pearly tear or two dropped from her lovely eyes, but she submitted. I withdrew the clothes whilst Hassan laid hold of her legs by the ankles, gently dividing them; the bottom of her lily thighs and the sheet were covered with crimson drops; the delicious entrance in the grove of Venus, which before she had received my luxurious stretches had so much the appearance of the bud of the rose, now hung flabby, loose and inflamed by the tremendous friction it had suffered, satisfying the beholder in a moment that the hymen had been broken and the deflowering completed. Hassan immediately bowed his head as satisfied and I conducted him out of the boudoir. On my return to her she was still in tears, but I soon dried them. Having ordered dinner, I told her a slave would attend to help her dress, and by the time her toilet was finished the meal would be ready. I sent by the slave a beautiful white satin dress, with diamond eardrops and pearl necklace and with a letter stating it was my wish she would wear these ornaments as a marriage gift. + +'I waited her approach in the outer room. She came leaning on a slave. Her appearing to be scarcely able to walk caused me to fly to her support and her head sank on my shoulder unresistingly. I carried her to a couch, where throwing my arms around her, I drew her to my bosom and placing numerous soft kisses on her lips and neck, bestowed on her every endearing tide I could give utterance to. But although she trembled, blushed and sighed, and could hardly keep her eyes open, still, to my great gratification, her lips returned my soft pressures, and altogether there was something in her behaviour that satisfied me I had created an interest in her feelings that was tantamount to reciprocation; indeed every moment had the effect of removing the natural coyness which every girl must feel in the company of the happy possessor of her virginity so shortly after the loss. Dinner was served, of which she partook with apparent satisfaction. During our repast I caught her examining me when she thought I was engaged or did not observe her; her cheeks, neck and shoulders were instantly suffused with blushes on her discovering I had remarked what she was about. I tenderly drew her to my bosom, assuring her there was no reason for her blushes. In short the repast was enjoyed with double zest by me from the numerous nameless delicate pleasures I received from the maidenly confusion caused by the novelty of the situation in the lovely girl. After the banquet was removed it was past sunset. As she lay in my arms her eyes seemed heavy, which induced me to ask if she would retire and snatch an hour or two of repose before I came to pass the night with her, at the same time telling her she must not expect to get much sleep that night. She agreed to avail herself of my offer, on which, summoning the slave to assist her to undress, I supported her to the entrance of the boudoir, there resigning her into the slave's hands and giving instructions to leave all the lamps burning and properly supplied with oil. + +'After reposing on a couch for about two hours I undressed myself. On entering the boudoir, I saw that Theodora slept naked from the heat of the weather; in her sleep she had removed nearly all the bedclothes. Her head lay on one of her arms on the pillow, her other arm lying carelessly by her side, whilst the treasures of her lovely breasts and shoulders were unprotected by the slightest covering. Without disturbing her, I laid myself by her side, bringing my mouth as nearly as possibly to hers. Our lips at last touched for a moment. I sucked her balmy breath. Lying thus examining the beauties of her delicate limbs, suddenly I perceived a strange confusion seem to seize upon her. She appeared as if struggling with someone; then she sighed. I caught the flying dream and gave her another soft kiss; still she slept. Her sweet disorder and struggles seemed to increase; she uttered some words, broken and inarticulate. A blush spread itself on her face and bosom; she turned upon her back as if impelled by the agency of someone, her lovely thighs spread of themselves, her breasts heaved rapidly, her whole body was agitated, her arms spread then of a sudden fell, and then she became motionless as death. Certainly she had tasted in a dream all those joys which the waking sense can know. A soft emotion succeed the calm in which she had been absorbed. "Yes, thou lovest me," she sighed, in the most tender accents; then sighed, breathed short, and again said, "Oh, I cannot doubt it." + +'More lost in transport even than she, I had not power to move. A moment afterwards she became no less confounded than myself; her soul seemed to give itself up to an ecstasy; again she trembled and seemed convulsed with pleasure. Mahomet, how beautiful she appeared! how infinitely did this confusion become her! I could bear it no longer, but seized her in my arms and thus broke in upon her joys by awakening her—thereafter there remained no more of the illusion that had engrossed her faculties than that tender languishment to which she had abandoned herself with a warmth that rendered her worthy of the pleasures she had possessed. When she opened her eyes, where love itself reigned, the glances she darted appeared still full of the fire that was diffused through her veins; she had not yet lost the impression that had been made in her sleeping fancy. Oh, how touching was her very look. "Theodora," I cried, with rapture, pressing her to my bosom, "lovely, amiable Theodora, how beautiful you appeared just now," kissing her with all the ardour I was capable of expressing. The dream still retained some influence over her waking mind, the memory of her late impulse insensibly increased upon her, and desires to which she had hitherto been a stranger thrilled in her veins. + +'Experienced as I am in womankind, my passion for Theodora now not only made me attentive to all her motions but also enabled me to make true conjectures as to their meaning. I saw quite enough to convince me I was not an object of indifference to her, and that now more than ever she regarded me with pleasure. The charming girl, altogether artless and sincere by nature, knew not how to disguise her thoughts; so if she did not tell me all she felt in my favour, it was only because of a shamefacedness. However, I discovered everything I wished to know, since I was alive to a consciousness of something more than her modesty would let her speak. But my kisses and touches, combined with her dream, now began to warm her. She now blushed less at every liberty I took than she had done before at those she apprehended I should take. In fact, in spite of herself she was beginning to partake of my transport. Whilst I was sucking her soft lips my hand slipped between her thighs but although it was between them still she kept them closed. "How is this," I cried, "lovely Theodora; do you refuse to make me happy again?" "Ah," she replied, unthinkingly, "you were but too much so just now, and before you awoke me had all the advantage you could wish." On pressure to explain the seeming mystery her words contained, she held out against my entreaties longer than I expected she would. Kisses and caresses, however, got the better of her in the end, and her reluctance to speak of the subject vanished by degrees. "If I should tell you," she said in a trembling voice, "do not abuse me." I swore I would not, but with transports which instead of removing her apprehension might have assured her it would be impossible for me to keep my promise. Too little skilled in mankind to be sensible of the effect of what she was about to reveal, she at least confessed to me that being in a slumber the moment before I spoke to her, she had seen me in a dream, and through my agency she felt a rapture which before she had notice of. 'Was I between your thighs?' cried I, pressing her strenuously in my arms. Covered with blushes but looking on me with eyes swimming with languor, she tremblingly replied, "Yes." "Ah, then," rejoined I, more inflamed, "You love me more in the idea than you do in my real person?" "That," she said, "would be impossible—I could not love you more; but it is certain I was less ashamed to tell you so." "But what more?" impatiently demanded I. "Oh, ask me not," replied she, hiding her blushes on my bosom; "I cannot enter in particulars; but I was indeed happy without regret." Here she paused for a moment, and then added, "or pain." + +'Whilst she was thus explaining the effect of her dream I had extended her thighs, and with my forefinger for a few moments had been tickling the inside of her delicious love-sheath. Her eyes were turned full on me, charged with all the fires of love and soft desire, plainly intimating what her thoughts were. It was impossible longer to restrain my burning impatience, so turning her on her back, I got between her thighs, and laying myself on her, entreated her to say she loved me. She only answered with sighs, more impressive than words. I read in every look and motion what she would have said if not restrained by shame. One arm held her lips to mine, the other hand directed the instrument which in her dream had made her so happy. Faint murmurings and half-stifled sighs combating with the remains of modesty rendered her if possible more beautiful than ever, whilst with energy my vigorous instrument was driven up till it was at the end of its penetration, its progress sending up through her eyes the sparks of the love fire that now blazed in every vein—aye, in every pore in her. She had now taken in love's arrow (from the point to the feather) in that part where, now causing no pain, the lips, which owed their first breathing to my potent instrument, clung as if sensible of gratitude in eager suction around it with a warmth of zest, a compressive energy that gave it in its way the most delicious welcome in nature, every part of her sheath gathering tight around me, and straining as it were to come in for its blissful touch. Buried in her this way, we were both lost in an ecstasy and forgetfulness of ourselves or of what further was requisite to satisfy the demands of nature. We seemed to breathe out our whole souls upon each other's lips. + +'We lay motionless through excess of bliss. After languishing for some moments on her bosom, I at length recovered, but the lovely girl could not bear the fierceness of my glances, and moved her head a little on one side, with a sigh breathing nothing but love. "Ah, Theodora," I softly exclaimed, "surely you did not in your dream turn away those swimming eyes, those soft lips?" at the same time trying if it were possible to strain myself further into her. Suddenly her arms encircled my neck, her lips joined mine with soft thrilling pressures, whilst with voluptuous activity she moved her young body to receive my thrusts, murmuring with tenderness, "Does that content you, dear sir?—is it thus?—how else can I act to satisfy you?' I had now no command of myself. Holy Mahomet, how wild was ecstasy. The soft joy had seized upon her senses, her tremblings, heaving, soft shudders, the active movements of her arms and legs, quick breathings, graspings, return of my kisses, all bespoke her dream realised. But nature, unable to support the torrent of pleasure, deserted us both: we sank insensible in each other's arms. + +'I need not trouble you or excite your jealousy with any further account of the amorous scenes which took place between us. Long before morn she became (if anything) more submissive to my wishes than you were on your education. In the morning as she lay on my bosom, half asleep, moaning from the lassitude which a fierce enjoyment had just thrown her into, she suddenly sighed out, "Poor Emily!" I instantly comprehended the subject her thoughts were wandering on, particularly as a tear escaped from beneath her beautiful eyelid, rolled over her cheek and fell on my bosom. Pretending great alarm, I anxiously enquired the cause of her sorrow, when in the fullness of her grief she related the whole circumstances of the letter she had received from you, nor did she conceal (as she did in her first relation) the unkind reply she had written, which she now much regretted. "How could I," said she fondly, hiding her face in my bosom, "a poor silly maid as I was then, have any imagination of the transports I have tasted in your arms tonight? But it was very cruel to write to her as I did. Are you sure that the Dey ordered her to be strangled?" "Why," I replied, "there was a report that an English slave had been strangled; but there is no relying on anything we hear as to what takes place in the seraglio, even if it comes from the eunuchs themselves; there is so much deception carried on in respect of the Dey's women." "Indeed?" she sighed. "Yes," I continued, "if by any chance the letter you mention should have fallen into the Dey's hands, there is no danger, trouble or expense that would have deterred him from getting possession of your lovely person, and every artifice would have been used until he had enjoyed your virginity; and if he could not have enjoyed you by your own consent or deceit, he would not scruple in using force for the satisfying of his desires." "How can he expect anyone to love him?" she tenderly enquired. "It is reported," said I, "that very few women can resist him long, so well does he know how to please them. Besides, you do not form a true estimate of the power of man over the passions of women. Yesterday you were an ignorant maid who scarcely knew me! Now how many times during the night have your lips with the sweetest caresses called on your God as a witness to your love of me, whom a few short hours ago you had never seen before? Is it not true,? said I fondly kissing her. "It is," she replied, throwing her arms around my neck "But though at our marriage there was no reason for love on my side, either my gratitude or what you have taught me since yesterday have engendered it, and certainly the Dey would not have made me feel as I do towards you now." This tender avowal again forced my almost unbounded passions; I clasped her with transport to my bosom, our lips joined, our breaths mingled; when gently I turned her on her back, her swelling thighs, now obedient to the intimations of love and nature, willingly extended, resigning up the gateway to the entrance of pleasure. Dividing the pouting lips and entering its velvet tip, the member was quickly wedged into her to its extremity—she had it now to her heart's content—ravished to its utmost capacity by being so. Stretched as she was almost to suffocation on a rack of pleasure, its point stung her so much that catching at length the rage from my furious driving, she went wholly out of her mind, her sense concentrating in that favourite part of her body, the whole of which was so luxuriously filled and employed. There alone she existed, all lost in those delicious transports, those ecstasies of the senses, which her winking eyes, the brightened vermilion of her lips and sighs of pleasure deeply fetched so pathetically expressed. In short she was a machine (like any other piece of machinery) obeying the impulses of the key that so potently set her in motion, till the sense of pleasure foaming to a height triggered the shower that was to allay this hurricane. She kept me faithful company, going off with the old symptoms-a delicious delirium, a tremulous shudder, an "Ah, me, where am I?" and two or three long sighs, followed by the critical, dying, "Oh, oh!" When I got off her, she lay motionless, pleasure-filled—stretched and drenched—quite spent and gasping for breath, without any other sensations of life than in those exquisite vibrations that trembled yet on the strings of delight which had been so ravishingly touched and which nature had too intensely striven with for the senses to be quickly at peace from. 'In this manner did I gratify my senses and take my revenge on the lovely Theodora for the insult paid to me. Thus she became the slave of my pleasures. She little knew the effect of the storm she was raising and how potently she would feel it when it exploded. Having deposited in her womb my burning revenge, I was satisfied, and all that now remained was to undeceive her and to introduce you. It did not require much ingenuity to bring this about. Foreseeing clearly there would be a few pearly tears shed between you, also that I should have to listen to a few tender reproaches from Theodora, this also was no great matter. Having devoted nearly three weeks to the enjoyment of Theodora, yesterday I intended to withdraw the curtain which hung before her eyes. I desired Hassan at a particular hour to bring you to the apartments of Theodora, and when he heard me use a particular expression to let you enter the boudoir. It is scarcely necessary to explain that Theodora was now brought to submit to every, indeed any, wish I could form. On this occasion I had stripped her entirely naked, having nothing but a loose robe on myself. In this state I directed her to lean on the couch with her face downwards, raising her a little by placing a footstool for each foot to stand on at some distance from each other, so that her thighs were properly extended, and the entrance perfectly exposed. The head of my instrument was then fixed in her. At this moment you entered according to my directions, but dress disguised you so much that she did not know you, and Hassan caught you as you fainted. I motioned for him to take you away, then immediately resheathed the weapon in her hungry gap, as I well knew that would suppress all enquiry regarding you for the present. I seized her round the loins and demanded of her if she should like to be placed in that situation with the Dey. She turned round her head, with evident fear of some unknown danger marked in her lovely face, and replied, "Ah, sir, you make me tremble." "Why should you tremble, sweet one? He has been often near you during the last weeks and is at this moment nearer than you suppose." "Oh, where," cried the visibly alarmed girl, "where is he?" "Why up to your very quick," was my reply, and I forced myself into her as far as I could go. "It is the Dey who has enjoyed your virginity, whose wife you suppose yourself to be, and whom you now feel up to the hilt in your vitals." She fainted, but my violent thrusts soon brought her to life. The ecstasy seized me, I discharged myself into her, and withdrawing from her exclaimed, "There, my child, the deception is finished, you now know the beast in all his beastliness. Know, sweet charmer," I exclaimed, "it was that letter of yours that has procured the pleasure you have received in my embraces; the female that just now interrupted us is your friend Emily." To this she uttered a faint scream and fainted again. As I was ready for action I was soon in her again, and a few fierce thrusts quickly brought her to. To be brief, while my instrument was in her I had no difficulty in obtaining her pardon. She entreated permission to fly to you, and I granted her request. The rest you know.' + +As the Dey ceased speaking his rampant tool (which I must confess I was handling during his confession) gave tokens of preparation and soon I had the delicious morsel where I fain would have kept it forever. After this the Dey would often amuse himself with us alternately, compelling one of us to guide into the other his instrument and handle his pendant jewels; then he would throw his hand back and insert his finger into the gaping place that awaited its turn. In this way we were frequently (all three) dissolved at the same time in a flood of bliss. This had continued for several weeks, when an awful catastrophe put an end to our enjoyments. The Dey had received a Greek girl from one of his captains. She passively submitted to his embraces, and uttered no complaint until he commenced the attack upon her second maidenhead; then did she seem inspired with the strength of a Hercules. She suddenly seized a knife, which she had concealed under a cushion, grasped his pinnacle of strength, and in less than a thought drew the knife across it and severed it from his body, she then plunged it into her own heart and expired immediately. + +Aid was immediately summoned to stop the Dey's bleeding to death, and with the fortitude that ever characterises greatness, he ordered his physician to relieve him of his now useless remaining appendages, his receptacles of the soul-stirring juice, remarking at the same time that life would be hell if he retained the desire after the power was dead. When the Dey had nearly recovered he sent for us, and disclosed to our view the lost members preserved in spirits of wine in glass vases. He affectionately bade us farewell, telling us that a ship would sail for England in a few days, and as he had no further use for us, he would send us back to our native land. His kindness had such an effect on my feelings as to cause a miscarriage. I lay dangerously ill for two weeks, during which time Sylvia attended me with the care of a mother. At length the time of departure arrived. The Dey sent for us, and presented one of his valuable vases to Sylvia and the other to me. It fell to my lot to have the shaft. He also made us several other valuable presents, and bade us farewell, hoping that in our own country we should find partners to supply him. We left him with a heavy heart. We embarked on board the ship and arrived here without accident. Our friends here hushed up matters and reported that we had been at a boarding school in France, instead of the boarding school of the Dey of Algiers. Sylvia afterwards married a baronet, who lost his charge before he effected his entrance, so well did she play the prude. As for myself, you well know what my sentiments are. I will never marry until I am assured that the chosen one possesses sufficient charm and weight not only to erase the Dey's impression from my heart, but also from a more sensitive part. I have a young willing maid who possesses wiles enough to catch any man, and sufficient experience to answer my purpose; out of ten suitors, seven have passed through her ordeal and been found wanting. My hopes at present are centred on an Irish earl, who I have a presentiment will be found worthy of acceptance. When I have changed my name, rest assured you shall know the particulars. + +You no doubt wish to know what became of the vases, therefore I must ease your mind on that score. Sylvia has a female friend who keeps a fashionable boarding school in London, and she persuaded me to leave mine with hers in the keeping of this lady, who shows them as a reward for good behaviour to the little lady scholars. Poor girls, how their little mousetraps must gape at the sight! + +EMILY BARLOW + +THE END + +Madam, + +I sit down to give you an undeniable proof of my considering your desires as indispensable orders. Ungracious then as the task may be, I shall recall to view those scandalous stages of my life, out of which I emerg'd, at length, to the enjoyment of every blessing in the power of love, health, and fortune to bestow; whilst yet in the flower of youth, and not too late to employ the leisure afforded me by great ease and affluence, to cultivate an understanding, naturally not a despicable one, and which had, even amidst the whirl of loose pleasures I had been tost in, exerted more observation on the characters and manners of the world than what is common to those of my unhappy profession, who looking on all thought or reflection as their capital enemy, keep it at as great a distance as they can, or destroy it without mercy. + +Hating, as I mortally do, all long unnecessary preface, I shall give you good quarter in this, and use no farther apology, than to prepare you for seeing the loose part of my life, wrote with the same liberty that I led it. + +Truth! stark, naked truth, is the word; and I will not so much as take the pains to bestow the strip of a gauze wrapper on it, but paint situations such as they actually rose to me in nature, careless of violating those laws of decency that were never made for such unreserved intimacies as ours; and you have too much sense, too much knowledge of the originals themselves, to sniff prudishly and out of character at the pictures of them. The greatest men, those of the first and most leading taste, will not scruple adorning their private closets with nudities, though, in compliance with vulgar prejudices, they may not think them decent decorations of the staircase, or salon. + +This, and enough, premised, I go souse into my personal history. My maiden name was Frances Hill. I was born at a small village near Liverpool, in Lancashire, of parents extremely poor, and, I piously believe, extremely honest. + +My father, who had received a maim on his limbs that disabled him from following the more laborious branches of country-drudgery, got, by making of nets, a scanty subsistence, which was not much enlarg'd by my mother's keeping a little day-school for the girls in her neighbourhood. They had had several children; but none lived to any age except myself, who had received from nature a constitution perfectly healthy. + +My education, till past fourteen, was no better than very vulgar; reading, or rather spelling, an illegible scrawl, and a little ordinary plain work composed the whole system of it; and then all my foundation in virtue was no other than a total ignorance of vice, and the shy timidity general to our sex, in the tender stage of life when objects alarm or frighten more by their novelty than anything else. But then, this is a fear too often cured at the expence of innocence, when Miss, by degrees, begins no longer to look on a man as a creature of prey that will eat her. + +My poor mother had divided her time so entirely between her scholars and her little domestic cares, that she had spared very little of it to my instruction, having, from her own innocence from all ill, no hint or thought of guarding me against any. + +I was now entering on my fifteenth year, when the worst of ills befell me in the loss of my tender fond parents, who were both carried off by the small-pox, within a few days of each other; my father dying first, and thereby hastening the death of my mother; so that I was now left an unhappy friendless orphan (for my father's coming to settle there was accidental, he being originally a Kentishman). That cruel distemper which had proved so fatal to them, had indeed seized me, but with such mild and favourable symptoms, that I was presently out of danger, and, what I then did not know the value of, was entirely unmark'd. I skip over here an account of the natural grief and affliction which I felt on this melancholy occasion. A little time, and the giddiness of that age dissipated, too soon, my reflections on that irreparable loss; but nothing contributed more to reconcile me to it, than the notions that were immediately put into my head, of going to London, and looking out for a service, in which I was promised all assistance and advice from one Esther Davis, a young woman that had been down to see her friends, and who, after the stay of a few days, was to return to her place. + +As I had now nobody left alive in the village who had concern enough about what should become of me to start any objections to this scheme, and the woman who took care of me after my parents; death rather encouraged me to pursue it, I soon came to a resolution of making this launch into the wide world, by repairing to London, in order to seek my fortune, a phrase which, by the bye, has ruined more adventurers of both sexes, from the country, than ever it made or advanced. + +Nor did Esther Davis a little comfort and inspirit me to venture with her, by piquing my childish curiosity with the fine sights that were to be seen in London: the Tombs, the Lions, the King, the Royal Family, the fine Plays and Operas, and, in short, all the diversions which fell within her sphere of life to come at; the detail of all which perfectly turn'd the little head of me. + +Nor can I remember, without laughing, the innocent admiration, not without a spice of envy, with which we poor girls, whose church-going clothes did not rise above dowlass shifts and stuff gowns, beheld Esther's scowered satin gowns, caps border'd with an inch of lace, taudry ribbons, and shoes belaced with silver: all which we imagined grew in London, and entered for a great deal into my determination of trying to come in for my share of them. + +The idea however of having the company of a townswoman with her, was the trivial, and all the motives that engaged Esther to take charge of me during my journey to town, where she told me, after her manner and style, "as how several maids out of the country had made themselves and all their kin for ever: that by preserving their virtue, some had taken so with their masters, that they had married them, and kept them coaches, and lived vastly grand and happy; and some, may-hap, came to be Duchesses; luck was all, and why not I, as well as another?"; with other almanacs to this purpose, which set me a tip-toe to begin this promising journey, and to leave a place which, though my native one, contained no relations that I had reason to regret, and was grown insupportable to me, from the change of the tenderest usage into a cold air of charity, with which I was entertain'd even at the only friend's house that I had the least expectation of care and protection from. She was, however, so just to me, as to manage the turning into money of the little matters that remained to me after the debts and burial charges were accounted for, and, at my departure, put my whole fortune into my hands; which consisted of a very slender wardrobe, pack'd up in a very portable box, and eight guineas, with seventeen shillings in silver; stowed up in a spring-pouch, which was a greater treasure than ever I had yet seen together, and which I could not conceive there was a possibility of running out; and indeed, I was so entirely taken up with the joy of seeing myself mistress of such an immense sum, that I gave very little attention to a world of good advice which was given me with it. + +Places, then, being taken for Esther and me in the London waggon, I pass over a very immaterial scene of leavetaking, at which I dropt a few tears betwixt grief and joy; and, for the same reasons of insignificance, skip over all that happened to me on the road, such as the waggoner's looking liquorish on me, the schemes laid for me by some of the passengers, which were defeated by the vigilance of my guardian Esther; who, to do her justice, took a motherly care of me, at the same time that she taxed me for her protection by making me bear all travelling charges, which I defrayed with the utmost cheerfulness, and thought myself much obliged to her into the bargain. + +She took indeed great care that we were not over-rated, or imposed on, as well as of managing as frugally as possible; expensiveness was not her vice. + +It was pretty late in a summer evening when we reached London-town, in our slow conveyance, though drawn by six at length. As we passed through the greatest streets that led to our inn, the noise of the coaches, the hurry, the crowds of foot passengers, in short, the new scenery of the shops and houses, at once pleased and amazed me. + +But guess at my mortification and surprize when we came to the inn, and our things were landed and deliver'd to us, when my fellow traveller and protectress, Esther Davis, who had used me with the utmost tenderness during the journey, and prepared me by no preceding signs for the stunning blow I was to receive, when I say, my only dependence and friend, in this strange place, all of a sudden assumed a strange and cool air towards me, as if she dreaded my becoming a burden to her. + +Instead, then, of proffering me the continuance of her assistance and good offices, which I relied upon, and never more wanted, she thought herself, it seems, abundantly acquitted of her engagements to me, by having brought me safe to my journey's end; and seeing nothing in her procedure towards me but what was natural and in order, began to embrace me by way of taking leave, whilst I was so confounded, so struck, that I had not spirit or sense enough so much as to mention my hopes or expectations from her experience, and knowledge of the place she had brought me to. + +Whilst I stood thus stupid and mute, which she doubtless attributed to nothing more than a concern at parting, this idea procured me perhaps a slight alleviation of it, in the following harangue: That now we were got safe to London, and that she was obliged to go to her place, she advised me by all means to get into one as soon as possible; that I need not fear getting one; there were more places than parish-churches; that she advised me to go to an intelligence office; that if she heard of any thing stirring, she would find me out and let me know; that in the meantime, I should take a private lodging, and acquaint her where to send to me; that she wish'd me good luck, and hoped I should always have the grace to keep myself honest, and not bring a disgrace on my parentage. With this, she took her leave of me, and left me, as it were, on my own hands, full as lightly as I had been put into hers. + +Left thus alone, absolutely destitute and friendless, I began then to feel most bitterly the severity of this separation, the scene of which had passed in a little room in the inn; and no sooner was her back turned, but the affliction I felt at my helpless strange circumstances burst out into a flood of tears, which infinitely relieved the oppression of my heart; though I still remained stupefied, and most perfectly perplex'd how to dispose of myself. + +One of the waiters coming in, added yet more to my uncertainty by asking me, in a short way, if I called for anything? to which I replied innocently: "No." But I wished him to tell me where I might get a lodging for that night. He said he would go and speak to his mistress, who accordingly came, and told me drily, without entering in the least into the distress she saw me in, that I might have a bed for a shilling, and that, as she supposed I had some friends in town (here I fetched a deep sigh in vain!) I might provide for myself in the morning. + +'Tis incredible what trifling consolations the human mind will seize in its greatest afflictions. The assurance of nothing more than a bed to lie on that night, calmed my agonies; and being asham'd to acquaint the mistress of the inn that I had no friends to apply to in town, I proposed to myself to proceed, the very next morning, to an intelligence office, to which I was furnish'd with written directions on the back of a ballad Esther had given me. There I counted on getting information of any place that such a country girl as I might be fit for, and where I could get into any sort of being, before my little stock should be consumed; and as to a character, Esther had often repeated to me that I might depend on her managing me one; nor, however affected I was at her leaving me thus, did I entirely cease to rely on her, as I began to think, good-naturedly, that her procedure was all in course, and that it was only my ignorance of life that had made me take it in the light I at first did. + +Accordingly, the next morning I dress'd myself as clean and as neat as my rustic wardrobe would permit me; and having left my box, with special recommendation, with the landlady, I ventured out by myself, and without any more difficulty than can be supposed of a young country girl, barely fifteen, and to whom every sign or shop was a gazing trap, I got to the wish'd-for intelligence office. + +It was kept by an elderly woman, who sat at the receipt of custom, with a book before her in great form and order, and several scrolls, ready made out, of directions for places. + +I made up then to this important personage, without lifting up my eyes or observing any of the people round me, who were attending there on the same errand as myself, and dropping her curtsies nine-deep, just made a shift to stammer out my business to her. + +Madam having heard me out, with all the gravity and brow of a petty minister of State, and seeing at one glance over my figure what I was, made me no answer, but to ask me the preliminary shilling, on receipt of which she told me places for women were exceedingly scarce, especially as I seemed too slight built for hard work; but that she would look over her book, and see what was to be done for me, desiring me to stay a little till she had dispatched some other customers. + +On this I drew back a little, most heartily mortified at a declaration which carried with it a killing uncertainty that my circumstances could not well endure. + +Presently, assuming more courage, and seeking some diversion from my uneasy thoughts, I ventured to lift up my head a little, and sent my eyes on a course round the room, wherein they met full tilt with those of a lady (for such my extreme innocence pronounc'd her) sitting in a corner of the room, dress'd in a velvet mantle (nota bene, in the midst of summer), with her bonnet off; squab-fat, red-faced, and at least fifty. + +She look'd as if she would devour me with her eyes, staring at me from head to foot, without the least regard to the confusion and blushes her eyeing me so fixedly put me to, and which were to her, no doubt, the strongest recommendation and marks of my being fit for her purpose. After a little time, in which my air, person and whole figure had undergone a strict examination, which I had, on my part, tried to render favourable to me, by primming, drawing up my neck, and setting my best looks, she advanced and spoke to me with the greatest demureness: + +"Sweet-heart, do you want a place?" + +"Yes, and please you" (with a curtsy down to the ground). + +Upon this she acquainted me that she was actually come to the office herself to look out for a servant; that she believed I might do, with a little of her instructions; that she could take my very looks for a sufficient character; that London was a very wicked, vile place; that she hoped I would be tractable, and keep out of bad company; in short, she said all to me that an old experienced practitioner in town could think of, and which was much more than was necessary to take in an artless inexperienced country-maid, who was even afraid of becoming a wanderer about the streets, and therefore gladly jump'd at the first offer of a shelter, especially from so grave and matron-like a lady, for such my flattering fancy assured me this new mistress of mine was; I being actually hired under the nose of the good woman that kept the office, whose shrewd smiles and shrugs I could not help observing, and innocently interpreted them as marks of her being pleased at my getting into place so soon; but, as I afterwards came to know, these beldams understood one another very well, and this was a market where Mrs. Brown, my mistress, frequently attended, on the watch for any fresh goods that might offer there, for the use of her customers, and her own profit. + +Madam was, however, so well pleased with her bargain, that fearing, I presume, lest better advice or some accident might occasion my slipping through her fingers, she would officiously take me in a coach to my inn, where, calling herself for my box, it was, I being present, delivered without the least scruple or explanation as to where I was going. + +This being over, she bid the coachman drive to a shop in St. Paul's Churchyard, where she bought a pair of gloves, which she gave me, and thence renewed her directions to the coachman to drive to her house in *** street, who accordingly landed us at her door, after I had been cheer'd up and entertain'd by the way with the most plausible flams, without one syllable from which I could conclude anything but that I was, by the greatest good luck, fallen into the hands of the kindest mistress, not to say friend, that the varsal world could afford; and accordingly I enter'd her doors with most compleat confidence and exultation, promising myself that, as soon as I should be a little settled, I would acquaint Esther Davis with my rare good fortune. + +You may be sure the good opinion of my place was not lessen'd by the appearance of a very handsome back parlour, into which I was led and which seemed to me magnificently furnished, who had never seen better rooms than the ordinary ones in inns upon the road. There were two gilt pierglasses, and a buffet, on which a few pieces of plates, set out to the most shew, dazzled, and altogether persuaded me that I must be got into a very reputable family. + +Here my mistress first began her part, with telling me that I must have good spirits, and learn to be free with her; that she had not taken me to be a common servant, to do domestic drudgery, but to be a kind of companion to her; and that if I would be a good girl, she would do more than twenty mothers for me; to all which I answered only by the profoundest and the awkwardest curtsies, and a few monosyllables, such as "yes! no! to be sure!" + +Presently my mistress touch'd the bell, and in came a strapping maid-servant, who had let us in. "Here, Martha," said Mrs. Brown—"I have just hir'd this young woman to look after my linen; so step up and shew her her chamber; and I charge you to use her with as much respect as you would myself, for I have taken a prodigious liking to her, and I do not know what I shall do for her." + +Martha, who was an arch-jade, and, being used to this decoy, had her cue perfect, made me a kind of half curtsy, and asked me to walk up with her; and accordingly shew'd me a neat room, two pair of stairs backwards, in which there was a handsome bed, where Martha told me I was to lie with a young gentlewoman, a cousin of my mistress's, who she was sure would be vastly good to me. Then she ran out into such affected encomiums on her good mistress! her sweet mistress! and how happy I was to light upon her! that I could not have bespoke a better; with other the like gross stuff, such as would itself have started suspicions in any but such an unpractised simpleton, who was perfectly new to life, and who took every word she said in the very sense she laid out for me to take it; but she readily saw what a penetration she had to deal with, and measured me very rightly in her manner of whistling to me, so as to make me pleased with my cage, and blind to the wires. + +In the midst of these false explanations of the nature of my future service, we were rung for down again, and I was reintroduced into the same parlour, where there was a table laid with three covers; and my mistress had now got with her one of her favourite girls, a notable manager of her house, and whose business it was to prepare and break such young fillies as I was to the mounting-block; and she was accordingly, in that view, allotted me for a bed-fellow; and, to give her the more authority, she had the title of cousin conferr'd on her by the venerable president of this college. + +Here I underwent a second survey, which ended in the full approbation of Mrs. Phoebe Ayres, the name of my tutoress elect, to whose care and instructions I was affectionately recommended. + +Dinner was now set on table, and in pursuance of treating me as a companion, Mrs. Brown, with a tone to cut off all dispute, soon over-rul'd my most humble and most confused protestations against sitting down with her ladyship, which my very short breeding just suggested to me could not be right, or in the order of things. + +At table, the conversation was chiefly kept up by the two madams, and carried on in double-meaning expressions, interrupted every now and then by kind assurance to me, all tending to confirm and fix my satisfaction with my present condition: augment it they could not, so very a novice was I then. + +It was here agreed that I should keep myself up and out of sight for a few days, till such cloaths could be procured for me as were fit for the character I was to appear in, of my mistress's companion, observing withal, that on the first impressions of my figure much might depend; and, as they well judged, the prospect of exchanging my country cloaths for London finery, made the clause of confinement digest perfectly well with me. But the truth was, Mrs. Brown did not care that I should be seen or talked to by any, either of her customers, or her does (as they call'd the girls provided for them), till she had secured a good market for my maidenhead, which I had at least all the appearances of having brought into her ladyship's service. + +To slip over minutes of no importance to the main of my story, I pass the interval to bed-time, in which I was more and more pleas'd with the views that opened to me, of an easy service under these good people; and after supper being shew'd up to bed, Miss Phoebe, who observed a kind of reluctance in me to strip and go to bed, in my shift, before her, now the maid was withdrawn, came up to me, and beginning with unpinning my handkerchief and gown, soon encouraged me to go on with undressing myself; and, still blushing at now seeing myself naked to my shift, I hurried to get under the bedcloaths out of sight. Phoebe laugh'd and was not long before she placed herself by my side. She was about five and twenty, by her most suspicious account, in which, according to all appearances, she must have sunk at least ten good years; allowance, too, being made for the havoc which a long course of hackneyship and hot waters must have made of her constitution, and which had already brought on, upon the spur, that stale stage in which those of her profession are reduced to think of showing company, instead of seeing it. + +No sooner then was this precious substitute of my mistress's laid down, but she, who was never out of her way when any occasion of lewdness presented itself, turned to me, embraced and kiss'd me with great eagerness. This was new, this was odd; but imputing it to nothing but pure kindness, which, for aught I knew, it might be the London way to express in that manner, I was determin'd not to be behind hand with her, and returned her the kiss and embrace, with all the fervour that perfect innocence knew. + +Encouraged by this, her hands became extremely free, and wander'd over my whole body, with touches, squeezes, pressures, that rather warm'd and surpriz'd me with their novelty, than they either shock'd or alarm'd me. + +The flattering praises she intermingled with these invasions, contributed also not a little to bribe my passiveness; and, knowing no ill, I feared none, especially from one who had prevented all doubt of her womanhood by conducting my hands to a pair of breasts that hung loosely down, in a size and volume that full sufficiently distinguished her sex, to me at least, who had never made any other comparison... + +I lay then all tame and passive as she could wish, whilst her freedom raised no other emotions but those of a strange, and, till then, unfelt pleasure. Every part of me was open and exposed to the licentious courses of her hands, which, like a lambent fire, ran over my whole body, and thaw'd all coldness as they went. + +My breasts, if it is not too bold a figure to call so two hard, firm, rising hillocks, that just began to shew themselves, or signify anything to the touch, employ'd and amus'd her hands a-while, till, slipping down lower, over a smooth track, she could just feel the soft silky down that had but a few months before put forth and garnish'd the mount-pleasant of those parts, and promised to spread a grateful shelter over the seat of the most exquisite sensation, and which had been, till that instant, the seat of the most insensible innocence. Her fingers play'd and strove to twine in the young tendrils of that moss, which nature has contrived at once for use and ornament. + +But, not contented with these outer posts, she now attempts the main spot, and began to twitch, to insinuate, and at length to force an introduction of a finger into the quick itself, in such a manner, that had she not proceeded by insensible gradations that inflamed me beyond the power of modesty to oppose its resistance to their progress, I should have jump'd out of bed and cried for help against such strange assaults. + +Instead of which, her lascivious touches had lighted up a new fire that wanton'd through all my veins, but fix'd with violence in that center appointed them by nature, where the first strange hands were now busied in feeling, squeezing, compressing the lips, then opening them again, with a finger between, till an "Oh!" express'd her hurting me, where the narrowness of the unbroken passage refused it entrance to any depth. + +In the meantime, the extension of my limbs, languid stretchings, sighs, short heavings, all conspired to assure that experienced wanton that I was more pleased than offended at her proceedings, which she seasoned with repeated kisses and exclamations, such as "Oh! what a charming creature thou art! . . . What a happy man will he be that first makes a woman of you! . . . Oh! that I were a man for your sake! ... with the like broken expressions, interrupted by kisses as fierce and fervent as ever I received from the other sex. + +For my part, I was transported, confused, and out of myself; feelings so new were too much for me. My heated and alarm'd senses were in a tumult that robbed me of all liberty of thought; tears of pleasure gush'd from my eyes, and somewhat assuaged the fire that rag'd all over me. + +Phoebe, herself, the hackney'd, thorough-bred Phoebe, to whom all modes and devices of pleasure were known and familiar, found, it seems, in this exercise of her art to break young girls, the gratification of one of those arbitrary tastes, for which there is no accounting. Not that she hated men, or did not even prefer them to her own sex; but when she met with such occasions as this was, a satiety of enjoyments in the common road, perhaps too, a secret bias, inclined her to make the most of pleasure, wherever she could find it, without distinction of sexes. In this view, now well assured that she had, by her touches, sufficiently inflamed me for her purpose, she roll'd down the bed-cloaths gently, and I saw myself stretched nak'd, my shift being turned up to my neck, whilst I had no power or sense to oppose it. Even my glowing blushes expressed more desire than modesty, whilst the candle, left (to be sure not undesignedly) burning, threw a full light on my whole body. + +"No!" says Phoebe, "you must not, my sweet girl, think to hide all these treasures from me. My sight must be feasted as well as my touch . . . I must devour with my eyes this springing bosom . . . Suffer me to kiss it . . . I have not seen it enough . . . Let me kiss it once more . . . What firm, smooth, white flesh is here! . . . How delicately shaped! . . . Then this delicious down! Oh! let me view the small, dear, tender cleft! . . . This is too much, I cannot bear it! . . . I must . . . I must . . ." Here she took my hand, and in a transport carried it where you will easily guess. But what a difference in the state of the same thing! . . . A spreading thicket of bushy curls marked the full-grown, complete woman. Then the cavity to which she guided my hand easily received it; and as soon as she felt it within her, she moved herself to and fro, with so rapid a friction that I presently withdrew it, wet and clammy, when instantly Phoebe grew more composed, after two or three sighs, and heart-fetched Oh's! and giving me a kiss that seemed to exhale her soul through her lips, she replaced the bed-cloaths over us. What pleasure she had found I will not say; but this I know, that the first sparks of kindling nature, the first ideas of pollution, were caught by me that night; and that the acquaintance and communication with the bad of our own sex, is often as fatal to innocence as all the seductions of the other. But to go on. When Phoebe was restor'd to that calm, which I was far from the enjoyment of myself, she artfully sounded me on all the points necessary to govern the designs of my virtuous mistress on me, and by my answers, drawn from pure undissembled nature, she had no reason but to promise herself all imaginable success, so far as it depended on my ignorance, easiness, and warmth of constitution. + +After a sufficient length of dialogue, my bedfellow left me to my rest, and I fell asleep, through pure weariness from the violent emotions I had been led into, when nature (which had been too warmly stir'd and fermented to subside without allaying by some means or other) relieved me by one of those luscious dreams, the transports of which are scarce inferior to those of waking real action. + +We breakfasted, and the tea things were scarce removed, when in were brought two bundles of linen and wearing apparel: in short, all the necessaries for rigging me out, as they termed it, completely. + +In the morning I awoke about ten, perfectly gay and refreshed. Phoebe was up before me, and asked me in the kindest manner how I did, how I had rested, and if I was ready for breakfast, carefully, at the same time, avoiding to increase the confusion she saw I was in, at looking her in the face, by any hint of the night's bed scene. I told her if she pleased I would get up, and begin any work she would be pleased to set me about. She smil'd; presently the maid brought in the tea-equipage, and I had just huddled my cloaths on, when in waddled my mistress. I expected no less than to be told of, if not chid for, my late rising, when I was agreeably disappointed by her compliments on my pure and fresh looks. I was "a bud of beauty" (this was her style), "and how vastly all the fine men would admire me!" to all which my answer did not, I can assure you, wrong my breeding; they were as simple and silly as they could wish, and, no doubt, flattered them infinitely more than had they proved me enlightened by education and a knowledge of the world. + +Imagine to yourself, Madam, how my little coquette heart flutter'd with joy at the sight of a white lute-string, flower'd with silver, scoured indeed, but passed on me for spick-and-span new, a Brussels lace cap, braided shoes, and the rest in proportion, all second-hand finery, and procured instantly for the occasion, by the diligence and industry of the good Mrs. Brown, who had already a chapman for me in the house, before whom my charms were to pass in review; for he had not only, in course, insisted on a previous sight of the premises, but also on immediate surrender to him, in case of his agreeing for me; concluding very wisely that such a place as I was in was of the hottest to trust the keeping of such a perishable commodity in as a maidenhead. + +The care of dressing, and tricking me out for the market, was then left to Phoebe, who acquitted herself, if not well, at least perfectly to the satisfaction of every thing but my impatience of seeing myself dress'd. When it was over, and I view'd myself in the glass, I was, no doubt, too natural, too artless, to hide my childish joy at the change; a change, in the real truth, for much the worse, since I must have much better become the neat easy simplicity of my rustic dress than the awkward, untoward, taudry finery that I could not conceal my strangeness to. + +Phoebe's compliments, however, in which her own share in dressing me was not forgot, did not a little confirm me in the first notions I had ever entertained concerning my person; which, be it said without vanity, was then tolerable to justify a taste for me, and of which it may not be out of place here to sketch you an unflatter'd picture. + +I was tall, yet not too tall for my age, which, as I before remark'd, was barely turned of fifteen; my shape perfectly straight, thin waisted, and light and free, without owing any thing to stays; my hair was a glossy auburn, and as soft as silk, flowing down my neck in natural buckles, and did not a little set off the whiteness of a smooth skin; my face was rather too ruddy, though its features were delicate, and the shape a roundish oval, except where a pit on my chin had far from a disagreeable effect; my eyes were as black as can be imagin'd, and rather languishing than sparkling, except on certain occasions, when I have been told they struck fire fast enough; my teeth, which I ever carefully perserv'd, were small, even and white; my bosom was finely rais'd, and one might then discern rather the promise, than the actual growth, of the round, firm breasts, that in a little time made that promise good. In short, all the points of beauty that are most universally in request, I had, or at least my vanity forbade me to appeal from the decision of our sovereign judges the men, who all, that I ever knew at least, gave it thus highly in my favour; and I met with, even in my own sex, some that were above denying me that justice, whilst others praised me yet more unsuspectedly, by endeavouring to detract from me, in points of person and figure that I obviously excelled in. This is, I own, too strong of self praise; but should I not be ungrateful to nature, and to a form to which I owe such singular blessings of pleasure and fortune, were I to suppress, through and affectation of modesty, the mention of such valuable gifts? + +Well then, dress'd I was, and little did it then enter into my head that all this gay attire was no more than decking the victim out for sacrifice, whilst I innocently attributed all to mere friendship and kindness in the sweet good Mrs. Brown; who, I was forgetting to mention, had, under pretence of keeping my money safe, got from me, without the least hesitation, the driblet (so I now call it) which remained to me after the expences of my journey. + +After some little time most agreeably spent before the glass, in scarce self-admiration, since my new dress had by much the greatest share in it, I was sent for down to the parlour, where the old lady saluted me, and wished me joy of my new cloaths, which she was not asham'd to say, fitted me as if I had worn nothing but the finest all my life-time; but what was it she could not see me silly enough to swallow? At the same time, she presented me to another cousin of her own creation, an elderly gentleman, who got up, at my entry into the room, and on my dropping a curtsy to him, saluted me, and seemed a little affronted that I had only presented my cheek to him; a mistake, which, if one, he immediately corrected, by glewing his lips to mine, with an ardour which his figure had not at all disposed me to thank him for; his figure, I say, than which nothing could be more shocking or detestable: for ugly, and disagreeable, were terms too gentle to convey a just idea of it. + +Imagine to yourself a man rather past threescore, short and ill-made, with a yellow cadaverous hue, great goggling eyes that stared as if he was strangled; and out-mouth from two more properly tusks than teeth, livid-lips, and breath like a jake's: then he had a peculiar ghastliness in his grin that made him perfectly frightful, if not dangerous to women with child; yet, made as he was thus in mock of man, he was so blind to his own staring deformities as to think himself born for pleasing, and that no woman could see him with impunity: in consequence of which idea, he had lavish'd great sums on such wretches as could gain upon themselves to pretend love to his person, whilst to those who had not art or patience to dissemble the horror it inspir'd, he behaved even brutally. Impotence, more than necessity, made him seek in variety the provocative that was wanting to raise him to the pitch of enjoyment, which too he often saw himself baulked of, by the failure of his powers: and this always threw him into a fit of rage, which he wreak'd, as far as he durst, on the innocent objects of his fit of momentary desire. + +This then was the monster to which my conscientious benefactress, who had long been his purveyor in this way, had doom'd me, and sent for me down purposely for his examination. Accordingly she made me stand up before him, turn'd me round, unpinn'd my handkerchief, remark'd to him the rise and fall, the turn and whiteness of a bosom just beginning to fill; then made me walk, and took even a handle from the rusticity of my gait, to inflame the inventory of my charms: in short, she omitted no point of jockeyship; to which he only answer'd by gracious nods of approbation, whilst he look'd goats and monkies at me: for I sometimes stole a corner glance at him, and encountering his fiery, eager stare, looked another way from pure horror and affright, which he, doubtless in character, attributed to nothing more than maiden modesty, or at least the affectation of it. + +However, I was soon dismiss'd, and reconducted to my room by Phoebe, who stuck close to me, not leaving me alone and at leisure to make such reflections as might naturally rise to any one, not an idiot, on such a scene as I had just gone through; but to my shame be it confess'd, such was my invincible stupidity, or rather portentous innocence, that I did not yet open my eyes to Mrs. Brown's designs, and saw nothing in this titular cousin of hers but a shocking hideous person which did not at all concern me, unless that my respect to all her cousinhood. + +Phoebe, however, began to sift the state and pulses of my heart towards this monster, asking me how I should approve of such a fine gentleman for a husband? (fine gentleman, I suppose she called him, from his being daubed with lace). I answered her very naturally, that I had no thoughts of a husband, but that if I was to choose one, it should be among my own degree, sure! So much had my aversion to that wretch's hideous figure indisposed me to all "fine gentlemen," and confounded my ideas, as if those of that rank had been necessarily cast in the same mould that he was! But Phoebe was not to be beat off so, but went on with her endeavours to melt and soften me for the purposes of my reception into that hospitable house: and whilst she talked of the sex in general, she had no reason to despair of a compliance, which more than one reason shewed her would be easily enough obtained of me; but then she had too much experience not to discover that my particular fix'd aversion to that frightful cousin would be a block not so readily to be removed, as suited the consummation of their bargain, and sale of me. + +Mother Brown had in the mean time agreed the terms with this liquorish old goat, which I afterwards understood were to be fifty guineas peremptory for the liberty of attempting me, and a hundred more at the compleat gratification of his desires, in the triumph over my virginity: and as for me, I was to be left entirely at the discretion of his liking and generosity. This unrighteous contract being thus settled, he was so eager to be put in possession, that he insisted on being introduc'd to drink tea with me that afternoon, when we were to be left alone; nor would he hearken to the procuress's remonstrances, that I was not sufficiently prepared and ripened for such an attack; that I was too green and untam'd, having been scarce twenty-four hours in the house: it is the character of lust to be impatient, and his vanity arming him against any supposition of other than the common resistance of a maid on those occasions, made him reject all proposals of a delay, and my dreadful trial was thus fix'd, unknown to me, for that very evening. + +At dinner, Mrs. Brown and Phoebe did nothing but run riot in praises of this wonderful cousin, and how happy that woman would be that he would favour with his addresses; in short my two gossips exhausted all their rhetoric to persuade me to accept them: "that the gentleman was violently smitten with me at first sight . . . that he would make my fortune if I would be a good girl and not stand in my own light . . . that I should trust his honour . . . that I should be made for ever, and have a chariot to go abroad in . . . ," with all such stuff as was fit to turn the head of such a silly ignorant girl as I then was: but luckily here my aversion had taken already such deep root in me, my heart was so strongly defended from him by my senses, that wanting the art to mask my sentiments, I gave them no hopes of their employer's succeeding, at least very easily, with me. The glass too march'd pretty quick, with a view, I suppose, to make a friend of the warmth of my constitution, in the minutes of the imminent attack. + +Thus they kept me pretty long at table, and about six in the evening, after I was retired to my own apartment, and the tea board was set, enters my venerable mistress, follow'd close by that satyr, who came in grinning in a way peculiar to him, and by his odious presence confirm'd me in all the sentiments of detestation which his first appearance had given birth to. + +He sat down fronting me, and all tea time kept ogling me in a manner that gave me the utmost pain and confusion, all the marks of which he still explained to be my bashfulness, and not being used to see company. + +Tea over, the commoding old lady pleaded urgent business (which indeed was true) to go out, and earnestly desir'd me to entertain her cousin kindly till she came back, both for my own sake and her's; and then with a "Pray, sir, be very good, be very tender of the sweet child," she went out of the room, leaving me staring, with my mouth open, and unprepar'd, by the suddenness of her departure, to oppose it. + +We were now alone; and on that idea a sudden fit of trembling seiz'd me. I was so afraid, without a precise notion of why, and what I had to fear, that I sat on the settee, by the fire-side, motionless, and petrified, without life or spirit, not knowing how to look or how to stir. + +But long I was not suffered to remain in this state of stupefaction: the monster squatted down by me on the settee, and without farther ceremony or preamble, flings his arms about my neck, and drawing me pretty forcibly towards him, oblig'd me to receive, in spite of my struggles to disengage from him, his pestilential kisses, which quite overcame me. Finding me then next to senseless, and unresisting, he tears off my neck handkerchief, and laid all open there to his eyes and hands: still I endur'd all without flinching, till embolden'd by my sufferance and silence, for I had not the power to speak or cry out, he attempted to lay me down on the settee, and I felt his hand on the lower part of my naked thighs, which were cross'd, and which he endeavoured to unlock . . . Oh then! I was roused out of my passive endurance, and springing from him with an activity he was not prepar'd for, threw myself at his feet, and begg'd him, in the most moving tone, not to be rude, and that he would not hurt me:—"Hurt you, my dear?" says the brute; "I intend you no harm . . . has not the old lady told you that I love you? . . . that I shall do handsomely by you?" "She has indeed, sir," said I; "but I cannot love you, indeed I can not! . . . pray let me alone . . . yes! I will love you dearly if you will let me alone, and go away . . . " But I was talking to the wind; for whether my tears, my attitude, or the disorder of my dress prov'd fresh incentives, or whether he was not under the dominion of desires he could not bridle, but snorting and foaming with lust and rage, he renews his attack, seizes me, and again attempts to extend and fix me on the settee: in which he succeeded so far as to lay me along, and even to toss my petticoats over my head, and lay my thighs bare, which I obstinately kept close, nor could he, though he attempted with his knee to force them open, effect it so as to stand fair for being master of the main avenue; he was unbuttoned, both waistcoat and breeches, yet I only felt the weight of his body upon me, whilst I lay struggling with indignation, and dying with terror; but he stopped all of a sudden, and got off, panting, blowing, cursing, and repeating "old and ugly!" for so I had very naturally called him in the heat of my defence. + +The brute had, it seems, as I afterwards understood, brought on, by his eagerness and struggle, the ultimate period of his hot fit of lust, which his power was too short liv'd to carry him through the full execution of; of which my thighs and linen received the effusion. + +When it was over he bid me, with a tone of displeasure, get up, saying that he would not do me the honour to think of me any more . . . that the old bitch might look out for another cully . . . that he would not be fool'd so by e'er a country mock modesty in England . . . that he supposed I had left my maidenhead with some hobnail in the country, and was come to dispose of my skin-milk in town, with a volley of the like abuse; which I listened to with more pleasure than ever fond woman did to protestations of love from her darling minion: for, incapable as I was of receiving any addition to my perfect hatred and aversion to him, I look'd on this railing as my security against his renewing his most odious caresses. + +Yet, plain as Mrs. Brown's views were now come out, I had not the heart or spirit to open my eyes to them: still I could not part with my dependence on that beldam, so much did I think myself her's, soul and body: or rather, I sought to deceive myself with the continuation of my good opinion of her, and chose to wait the worst at her hands sooner than be turn'd out to starve in the streets, without a penny of money or a friend to apply to: these fears were my folly. + +Whilst this confusion of ideas was passing in my head, and I sat pensive by the fire, with my eyes brimming with tears, my neck still bare, and my cap fall'n off in the struggle, so that my hair was in the disorder you may guess, the villain's lust began, I suppose, to be again in flow, at the sight of all that bloom of youth which presented itself to his view, a bloom yet unenjoy'd, and of course not yet indifferent to him. + +After some pause, he ask'd me, with a tone of voice mightily softened, whether I would make it up with him before the old lady returned and all should be well; he would restore me his affections, at the same time offering to kiss me and feel my breasts. But now my extreme aversion, my fears, my indignation, all acting upon me, gave me a spirit not natural to me, so that breaking loose from him, I ran to the bell and rang it, before he was aware, with such violence and effect as brought up the maid to know what was the matter, or whether the gentleman wanted any thing; and before he could proceed to greater extremities, she bounc'd into the room, and seeing me stretch'd on the floor, my hair all dishevell'd, my nose gushing out blood, which did not a little tragedize the scene, and my odious persecutor still intent of pushing his brutal point, unmoved by all my cries and distress, she was herself confounded and did not know what to say. + +As much, however, as Martha might be prepared and hardened to transactions of this sort, all womanhood must have been out of her heart, could she have seen this unmov'd. Besides that, on the face of things, she imagined that matters had gone greater lengths than they really had, and that the courtesy of the house had been actually consummated on me, and flung me into the condition I was in: in this notion she instantly took my part, and advis'd the gentleman to go down and leave me to recover myself, and "that all would be soon over with me . . . that when Mrs. Brown and Phoebe, who were gone out, were return'd, they would take order for every thing to his satisfaction . . . that nothing would be lost by a little patience with the poor tender thing . . . that for her part she was . . . frighten'd . . . she could not tell what to say to such doings . . . but that she would stay by me till my mistress came home." As the wench said all this in a resolute tone, and the monster himself began to perceive that things would not mend by his staying, he took his hat and went out of the room, murmuring, and pleating his brows like an old ape, so that I was delivered from the horrors of his detestable presence. + +As soon as he was gone, Martha very tenderly offered me her assistance in any thing, and would have got me some hartshorn drops, and put me to bed; which last, I at first positively refused, in the fear that the monster might return and take me at that advantage. However, with much persuasion, and assurances that I should not be molested that night, she prevailed on me to lie down; and indeed I was so weakened by my struggles, so dejected by my fearful apprehensions, so terror-struck, that I had not power to sit up, or hardly to give answers to the questions with which the curious Martha ply'd and perplex'd me. + +Such too, and so cruel was my fate, that I dreaded the sight of Mrs. Brown, as if I had been the criminal and she the person injur'd; a mistake which you will not think so strange, on distinguishing that neither virtue nor principles had the least share in the defence I had made, but only the particular aversion I had conceiv'd against the first brutal and frightful invader of my tender innocence. + +I pass'd then the time till Mrs. Brown's return home, under all the agitations of fear and despair that may easily be guessed. + +There were three of us—Mary, Eliza, and myself. I was approaching fifteen, Mary was about a year younger, and Eliza between twelve and thirteen years of age. Mamma treated us all as children, and was blind to the fact that I was no longer what I had been. Although not tall for my age, nor outwardly presenting a manly appearance, my passions were awakening, and the distinctive feature of my sex, although in repose it looked magnificent enough, was very sufficiently developed when under the influence of feminine excitement. + +As yet, I had absolutely no knowledge of the uses of the different organs of sex. My sisters and I all slept in the same room. They together in one bed, I alone in another. When no one was present, we had often mutually examined the different formations of our sexes. + +We had discovered that mutual handlings gave a certain amount of pleasing sensation; and, latterly, my eldest sister had discovered that the hooding and unhooding of my doodle, as she called it, instantly caused it to swell up and stiffen as hard as a piece of wood. My feeling of her little pinky slit gave rise in her to nice sensations, but on the slightest attempt to insert even my finger, the pain was too great. We had made so little progress in the attouchements that not the slightest inkling of what could be done in that way dawned upon us. I had begun to develope a slight growth of moss-like curls round the root of my cock; and then, to our surprise, Mary began to show a similar tendency. As yet, Eliza was as bald as her hand, but both were prettily formed, with wonderfully full and fat mounts of Venus. We were perfectly innocent of guile and quite habituated to let each other look at all our naked bodies without the slightest hesitation; and when playing in the garden, if one wanted to relieve the pressure on the bladder, we all squatted down together, and crossed waters, each trying who could piddle fastest. Notwithstanding these symptoms of passion when excited, in a state of calm I might have passed for a boy of ten or eleven. + +My father had left us but moderately provided for, and mamma, wishing to live comfortably, preferred giving me lessons along with my sisters at home to sending me to school; but her health beginning to fail, she inserted an advertisement in the Times for a governess. Out of a large number of applicants, a young lady, of the name of Evelyn, was selected. Some ten days afterwards she arrived, and became one of the family. + +We did not see much of her the first evening, but after breakfast the following morning, mamma accompanied her to what was considered our school-room, and said, "Now, my dears, I place you under Miss Evelyn's care; you must obey her in all things; she will teach you your lessons, as I am unable to do so any longer." Then, turning to our new governess, "I fear you will find them somewhat spoiled, and unruly; but there is a horse, and Susan will make you excellent birch rods whenever you require them. If you spare their bottoms when they deserve whipping, you will seriously offend me." As mamma said this, I observed Miss Evelyn's eyes appeared to dilate with a sort of joy, and I felt certain that, severely as mamma had often whipped us, if we should now deserve it, Miss Evelyn would administer it much more severely. She looked amiability itself, and was truly beautiful in face and person, twenty-two years of age, full and finely formed, and dressed always with the most studied neatness. She was, in truth, a seductive creature. She made an instantaneous impression on my senses. There was, however, somewhat of a sternness of expression, and a dignity of carriage, which caused at once to fear and respect her. Of course, at first, all went smoothly enough, and seeing that mamma treated me precisely as she did my sisters, I came to be regarded as quite a child by Miss Evelyn. She found that she had to sleep in the same room with my sisters and myself. I fancied that on the first night Miss Evelyn did not approve of this arrangement, but gradually became familiarized with it, and seemed to think no more about it. + +When bedtime came, we all kissed mamma and retired early, as usual. Miss Evelyn followed some hours later. When she came in, she carefully locked the door, then looked at me to see if I was asleep. Why, I know not, but I was instinctively prompted to feign sleep. I did so successfully, notwithstanding the passing of the candle before my eyes. So she at once commenced undressing. When her back was turned, I opened my eyes, and greedily devoured her naked charms as they were gradually exhibited before me. The moment she turned round, I was again as if asleep. I have said that my passions had begun to develope themselves, but as yet I did not understand their force or direction. I well remember this first night, when a fine ripe woman gradually removed every particle of dress within a couple of yards of me—the effect of each succeeding charm, from her lovely and beautifully formed bubbies to the taking off her shoes and stockings from her well-formed legs and small feet and ankles, caused my prick to swell and stiffen to a painful extent. When all but her chemise was removed, she stopped to pick up her petticoats that she had allowed to fall to her feet, and in lifting them, raised also her chemise, and exposed to my view a most glorious bottom—dazzlingly white and shining like satin. As the light was full upon it, and she was still in a stooping position, I could see that below her slit she was well covered with dark hair. Turning round, to put her petticoats on a chair, and to take up her night-gown, she slipped her chemise from her arm, and letting it fall to the ground while she lifted the night-gown over her head, I had for some seconds a view of her beautiful belly, thickly covered with dark curly hair over the mount of Venus. So voluptuous was the sight, I almost shuddered, so intense was my excitement. She now sat down on the bed to take off her shoes and stockings. Oh! what beautiful thighs, legs, ankles, and feet she had! + +I am now advanced in life, and have had many handsome and well-formed women, but I never saw limbs more voluptuously formed. + +In a few minutes the light was extinguished, and a rushing rill flowed into the night vase; very different from the gentle tricklings from myself and sisters as we often squatted down opposite each other and crossed water, laughing at the different sources from which they flowed. My sisters often envied me the power of directing the spurt where I pleased, so little were we from dreaming of the real intent of that projecting little instrument. + +I heard the charming creature get into bed, and shortly breath hard. As for me, I could not sleep. I lay awake the greater part of the night, afraid to be restless, lest I should disturb Miss Evelyn and give her reason to think I had been observant of her undressing. When at last I dozed off, it was but to dream of all the charms I has seen. + +About a month passed thus. Every night Miss Evelyn became more and more at her ease, and confident of my mere childishness, often gave me glorious and lengthened glimpses of her beautifully developed charms: although it was only about every other night that I could enjoy them, for, as they always produced sleeplessness afterwards, the following night nature assured her rights, and I usually slept profoundly when I would have preferred continued gazing on the charms of my lovely governess. But, doubtless, those exhausting sleeps helped to throw her off her guard, and gave me better opportunities than I should otherwise have had. Once or twice she used the night ware before putting on her night-gown, and I could see the rosy-lipped opening embosomed in exquisite dark curls, pouring out its full measure of water; showing a fine force of nature, and driving me wild with excitement. Yet it is singular that I never once thought of applying to my fingers for relief from the painful stiffness that nearly burst my prick asunder. + +Whether mamma had observed my very frequent projection of my trousers, or began to think it better I should not sleep in the same room as Miss Evelyn, I cannot say, but she had my bed removed into her own. However, I was so thoroughly treated as a mere boy by every one in the house, that Miss Evelyn seemed to forget my sex; and there was at all times a freedom of carriage and an abandon in her attitudes that she certainly would not have indulged in if she had felt any restraint from considering herself in the presence of a youth of the age of puberty. + +In cold weather I used to sit on a low stool by the fire—Miss Evelyn was seated in front, I had my lesson book on my knee, and she herself would place her beautiful feet on the high school fender, with her work in her lap, while she heard my sisters repeat their lesson, totally unconscious that for half an hour at a time she was exposing her beautiful legs and thighs to my ardent gaze; for sitting much below her, and bending my head as if intent on my lesson, my eyes were below her raised petticoats. Her close and tight-fitting white stockings displayed her well-formed legs, for while confined to the house during our morning lessons she did not wear drawers; so that in the position she sat in, with her knees higher than her feet on the already high fender, and her legs somewhat apart to hold her work in her lap more easily, the whole glorious underswell of both thighs, and the lower part of her fine large bottom, with the pinky slit quite visible, nestled in a rich profusion of dark curls, were fully exposed to my view. The light from the fire glancing under her raised petticoats tinged the whole with a glow, and set me equally in a blaze of desire until I was almost ready to faint. I could have rushed headlong under her petticoats, and kissed and fondled that delicious opening and all its surroundings. Oh, how little she thought of the passion she was raising. Oh! dear Miss Evelyn, how I did love you from the dainty kid slipper and tight glossy silk stocking, up to the glorious swell of the beautiful bubbies, that were so fully exposed to me nearly every night, and the lovely lips of all that I longed to lovingly embrace. + +Thus day after day passed away, and Miss Evelyn became to me a goddess, a creature whom, in my heart of hearts, I literally worshiped. When she left the school-room, and I was alone, I kissed that part of the fender her feet had pressed, and the seat on which she sat, and even the air an inch above, imagination placing there her lovely cunt. I craved for something beyond this without knowing exactly what I wanted; for, as yet, I really was utterly ignorant of anything appertaining to the conjunction of the sexes. + +One day I had gone up to my sisters' bedroom where the governess slept, that I might throw myself on her bed, and in imagination embrace her beautiful body. I heard some one approaching, and knowing that I had no business there, I hid myself under the bed. The next moment Miss Evelyn herself entered, and locked the door. It was about an hour before dinner. Taking off her dress, and hanging it on the wardrobe, she drew out a piece of furniture, which had been bought for her, the use of which had often puzzled me; she took off the lid, poured water into its basin, and placed a sponge near it. She then took off her gown, drew her petticoats and chemise up to her waist and fastened them there, straddled across it, and seated herself upon it. + +I thus had the intoxicating delight of gazing on all her beautiful charms, for when she tucked up her clothes she stood before her glass, presenting to my devouring glance her glorious white bottom in all its fullness, turning to approach the bidet, she equally exposed her lower belly and beautiful mount, with all its wealth of hair. While straddling over the bidet before she sat down, the whole of her pinky-lipped cunt broke on my enraptured sight. Never shall I forget the wild excitement of the moment. It was almost too much for my excited senses; fortunately, when seated, the immediate cause of my almost madness vanished. She sponged herself well between the thighs for about five minutes. She then raised herself off the bidet, and for a moment again displayed the pouting lips of her cunt—then stood fronting me for two or three minutes while she removed, with the rinsed sponge, the trickling drops of water which still gathered on the rich bush of curls around her quim. Thus her belly, mount and thighs, whose massy-fleshed and most voluptuous shape were more fully seen by me than they had heretofore been, and it may easily be conceived into what a state such a deliberate view threw me. + +Oh, Miss Evelyn, dear, delicious Miss Evelyn! what would you have thought had you known that I was gazing on all your angelic charms, and that my eager eyes had been straining themselves to penetrate the richness of those charming pouting lips which lay so snugly in that rich mass of dark curling hair. Oh! how I do long to kiss them; for at that time I had no other idea of embracing and still less of penetrating them. + +When her ablutions were completed, she sat down and drew off her stockings, displaying her beautiful white calves and charming little feet. I believe it was this first admiration of really exquisitely formed legs, ankles and feet, which were extraordinarily perfect in make, that first awakened my passion for those objects, which have since always exercised a peculiar charm over me. She was also so particularly neat in her shoes—little dark ones—that were bijoux to look at, I often took them up and kissed them, when left in the room. Then her silk stockings, always drawn up tight and fitting like a glove, set off to the greatest advantage the remarkable fine shape of her legs. + +Putting on silk for cotton stockings, she took down a low-bodiced dress, finished her toilet, and left the room. I crawled out from under the bed, washed my face and hands in the water of the bidet, and even drank some in my excitement. + +Some six weeks had now elapsed since the arrival of Miss Evelyn. The passion that had seized me for her had so far kept me most obedient to her slightest command, or even wish, and, from the same cause, attentive to my lessons, when not distracted by the circumstances already detailed. My example had also had the effect of keeping my sisters much in the same groove, but it was impossible this could last —it was not nature. As long as all went smoothly, Miss Evelyn seemed to be all amiability. We fancied we could do as we liked, and we grew more careless. + +Miss Evelyn became more reserved, and cautioned us at first, and then threatened us with the rod. We did not think she would make use of it. Mary grew impertinent, and one afternoon turned sulky over her lessons, and set our teacher at defiance. Miss Evelyn, who had been growing more and more angry, had her rise from her seat. She obeyed with an impudent leer. Seizing her by the arm, Miss Evelyn dragged the struggling girl to the horse. My sister was strong and fought hard, using both teeth and nails, but it was to no purpose. The anger of our governess was fully roused, and raising her in her arms, she carried her forcibly to the horse, placed her on it, held her firmly with one hand while she put the noose round her with the other, which, when drawn, secured her body; other nooses secured each ankle to rings in the floor, keeping her legs apart by the projection of the horse, and also forcing the knees to bend a little, by which the most complete exposure of the bottom, and, in fact, of all her private parts too, was obtained. + +Miss Evelyn then left her, and went to mamma for a rod. In a few minutes she returned, evidently flushed with passion, and proceded to tie Mary's petticoats well up to her waist, leaving her bottom and her pinky slit quite bare and exposed directly before my eyes. It was quite two months since I had seen her private parts, and I was well surprised to observe the lips more pouting and swelled out, as well as the symptoms of a mossy covering of the mount much more developed. Indeed, it was in itself more exciting than I had expected, for my thoughts had so long dwelt only on the riper beauties of Miss Evelyn that I had quite ceased to have any toying with Mary. + +This full view of all her private parts reawakened former sensations and strengthened them. Miss Evelyn first removed her own scarf, laying bare her plump ivory shoulders, and showing the upper halves of her beautiful bubbies, which were heaving with the excitement of her anger. She bared her fine right arm, and grasping the rod, stepped back and raised her arm; her eyes glistened in a peculiar way. She was indeed beautiful to see. + +I shall never forget that moment—it was but a moment. The rod whistled through the air and fell with a cruel cut on poor Mary's plump little bottom. The flesh quivered again, and Mary, who had resolved not to cry, flushed in her face, and bit the damask with which the horse was covered. + +Again the arm was raised, and again, with a sharp whistle, it fell on the palpating buttocks below it. Still her stubborn temper bore her up, and although we saw how she winced, not a sound escaped her lips. Drawing back a step, Miss Evelyn again raised her hand and arm, and this time her aim was so true that the longer points of the rod doubled between the buttocks and concentrated themselves between the lips of Mary's privates. So agonising was the pain that she screamed out dreadfully. Again the rod fell precisely on the same spot. + +"Oh! oh! oh! Dear Miss Evelyn. I will never, no, never, do so again." + +Her shrieks were of no avail. Cut succeeded cut, yell succeeded yell —until the rod was worn to a stump, and poor Mary's bottom was one mass of weals and red as raw beef. It was fearful to see, and yet such is our nature that to see it was, at the same time, exciting. I could not keep my eyes from her pouting quim, the swelling lips of which, under the severity of the punishment it was undergoing, not only seemed to thicken, but actually opened and shut, and evidently throbbed with agony. But all this was highly exciting for me to witness. I then and there resolved to have a closer inspection at a more convenient opportunity, which did not fail me in the end. + +Meanwhile, her spirit was completely cowed, or rather, crushed. Indeed, we were all fully frightened, and now knew what we had to expect, if we did not behave ourselves. There was now no fear of any manifestation of temper, and we felt we must indeed obey implicitly whatever our governess chose to order. We instinctively learned to fear her. + +A very few days after this memorable whipping, some visitors arrived —a gentleman and lady. The gentleman was an old friend of mamma's, who had lately married, and mamma had asked them to visit her on their wedding tour and spent a short time with us. + +The gentleman was a fine-looking man, tall and powerfully built; the lady rather delicate looking, but well shaped, with good breasts and shoulders, small waist, and spreading haunches, well-formed arms, small hands and feet, and very brilliant eyes. + +I think it was about three days after their arrival that one afternoon I went into the spare room, which was occupied by these visitors; while there, I heard them coming upstairs. The lady entered first, and I had just time to slip into a closet and draw the door to; it was not quite closed, but nearly so. In a minute the gentleman followed, and gently shutting the door, locked it. Mrs. Benson smiled, and said— + +"Well, my love, you are a sad teaser; you let me have no rest. Surely, you had enough last night and this morning without wanting it again so soon?" + +"Indeed, I had not," he said, "I never can have enough of your delicious person. So come, we must not be long about it, or our absence will be observed." + +He seized her round the waist, and drew her lips to his, and gave her a long, long kiss; squeezing her to him, and moving himself against her. Then seating himself, he pulled her on his knee, and thrust his hand up her petticoats, their mouths being glued together for some time. + +"We must be quick, dear," she murmured. + +He got up, and lifted her on the edge of the bed, threw her back, and taking her legs under his arms, exposed everything to my view. She had not so much hair on her mount of Venus as Miss Evelyn, but her slit showed more pouting lips, and appeared more open. Judge of my excitement when I saw Mr. Benson unbutton his trousers and pull out an immense cock. Oh, dear, how large it looked; it almost frightened me. With his fingers he placed the head between the lips of Mrs. Benson's sheath, and then letting go his hold, and placing both arms so as to support her legs, he pushed it all right into her to the hilt at once. I was thunderstruck that Mrs. Benson did not shriek with agony, it did seem such a large thing to thrust right into her belly. However, far from screaming with pain, she appeared to enjoy it. Her eyes glistened, her face flushed, and she smiled most graciously on Mr. B. The two appeared very happy. His large cock slipped in and out quite smoothly, and his hands pressed the large glossy buttocks and pulled them to him at each home thrust. This lasted nearly five minutes, when all at once Mr. B. stopped short, and then followed one or two convulsive shoves—he grinning in a very absurd way at her. He remained quiet for a few minutes, and the drew out his cock, all soft, with slimy drops falling from it onto the carpet. Taking a towel, he wiped up the carpet, and wrapping it round his cock, went to the basin and washed it. + +Mrs. Benson lay for a few minutes longer all exposed, her quim more open than before, and I could see a white slime oozing from it. + +You can hardly imagine the wild excitement this scene occasioned me. First, the grand mystery was at once explained to me, and my ignorant longings now knew to what they tended. After giving me plenty of time to realise all the beauties of her private parts, she slipped down on the floor, adjusted her petticoats, and smoothed the disordered counterpane, and then went to the glass to arrange her hair. This done, she quietly unlocked the door, and Mr. Benson went out. The door was then relocked, and Mrs. B. went to the basin, emptied and filled it, then raised up her petticoats, and bathed the parts between her legs with a sponge, and then rubbed all dry with a towel; all this time exposing everything to my ardent gaze. But, horror of horrors! she after this came straight to the closet and gave a slight scream on discovering me there. I blushed up to the ears, and tried to stammer out an excuse. She stared at me at first in silent amasement; but at last said— + +"How came you here, sir, tell me?" + +"I was here when you came up; I wanted my football, which was in this closet, and when I heard you coming, I hid myself, I don't know why." + +For some minutes she seemed to consider and examine me attentively. She then said— + +"Can you be discreet?" + +"Oh, yes, ma'am." + +"You will never tell any one what you have seen?" + +"No ma'am." + +"Well, keep this promise, and I shall try what I can do to reward you. Now, go downstairs." + +I went to the school-room, but I was greatly agitated, I scarcely knew what I was doing. The scene I had witnessed had complete possession of my thoughts. In years but a boy, the mystery now practically explained to me had awakened all the passions of a man. Instead of studying my lessons, my thoughts wandered to Mrs. B., thrown back on the bed with her fine legs and thighs fully exposed; above all, the sight of the pinky gash, with its fleecy hair at the bottom of her belly, which I had seen for some minutes all open and oozing out the slimy juice that followed the amorous encounter they had been indulging in. It seemed so much more developed than Miss Evelyn's. I felt sure that Miss Evelyn could never take in such a thick long thing as Mr. B. had thrust into his wife, and yet it appeared to go in so easily, and moved about so smoothly, and so evidently to the satisfaction and utmost delight of both, as was proved by their ardent embracings, fond murmurs, and voluptuous movements, especially just before they both ceased together all movement whatever. + +Then I thought, how delicious it would be to treat Miss Evelyn in the same way, and to revel with my stiff-standing prick in her delicious quim, which in my mind's eye I saw before me as I had viewed in on her rising from the bidet, when I lay hid under the bed. Then I thought of my sister Mary's smaller, although attractive little quim, and I resolved, as that was the easiest to get hold of, to initiate her in all the newly discovered mysteries. I fully determined that my own first lesson, as well as hers, should be taken on her little fat chubby cunt. Then the recollection of its pouting and throbbing lips under the fearful flagellation she had undergone, began to excite me, and made my cock stand stiff and throb again. All the weeks of excitement I had now constantly been under had produced a wonderful effect on my pego, which had become considerably more developed when in a state of erection. As you may suppose, with such distracting thoughts, I did not get on with my lessons. Miss Evelyn, for some reason or other, was out of humour that morning, and more than once spoke crossly to me for my evident inattention. At length she called me to her, and finding that I had scarcely done anything, she said— + +"Now, Charles, I give you ten minutes longer to finish that sum, if not done in that time I shall whip you; you are exhibiting the mere spirit of idleness. I do not know what has come over you, but if persisted in, you shall certainly be punished." + +The idea of the beautiful Miss Evelyn whipping my bare bottom did not tend to calm my excitement, on the contrary, it turned my lewd thoughts upon the beauties of her person, which I had so often furtively gazed upon. + +It was close upon four o'clock, at which hour we always broke up for a run in the garden for an hour, and during this period I had resolved to begin instructing Mary in the secret mysteries I had so lately been a witness to. But fate had ordered it otherwise, and I was to receive my first practical lesson and be initiated on the person of a riper and more beautiful woman; but of this hereafter. At four o'clock I had done nothing with my task—Miss Evelyn looked grave: + +"Mary and Eliza, you may go out, Charles will remain here." + +My sisters, simply imagining that I was kept to finish my lessons, ran into the garden. Miss Evelyn turned the key in the door, opened a cupboard, and withdrew a birch rod neatly tied up with blue ribbons. Now my blood coursed through my veins, and my fingers trembled so that I could hardly hold my pencil. + +"Put down your slate, Charles, and come to me." + +I obeyed, and stood before my beautiful governess, with a strange commixture of fear and desire. + +"Unfasten your braces, and pull down your trousers." + +I commenced doing this, though but very slowly. Angry at my delay her delicate fingers speedily accomplished the work. My trousers fell to my feet. + +"Place yourself across my knees." + +Tremblingly, with the same commixture of feeling, I obeyed. Her silk dress was drawn up to prevent its being creased—my naked flesh pressed against her snowy white petticoats. A delicate perfume of violet and vervain assailed my nerves. As I felt her soft and delicate fingers drawing up my shirt, and passing over my bare posteriors, while the warmth of her pulpy form beneath me penetrated my flesh, nature exerted her power, and my prick began to swell out to a most painful extent. I had but little time, however, to notice this before a rapid succession of the most cruel cuts lacerated my bottom. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, Miss Evelyn. I will do the sum if you will only forgive me. Oh, oh, oh, &c." + +Holding me firmly with her left arm, Miss Evelyn used the rod most unmercifully. At first, the pain was excruciating, and I roared out as loud as I could, but gradually the pain ceased to be so acute, and was succeeded by the most delicious tickling sensation. My struggles at first had been so violent as to greatly disorder Miss Evelyn's petticoats, and to raise them up so as to expose to my delighted eyes her beautifully formed silk-clad legs up to the knees, and even an inch or two of naked thigh above. + +This, together with the intense tickling irritation communicated to my bottom, as well as to the friction of my cock against the person of Miss Evelyn in my struggles, rendered me almost delirious, and I tossed and pushed myself about on her knees in a state of perfect frenzy as the blows continued to be showered down upon my poor bottom. At last the rod was worn to a stump, and I was pushed off her knees. As I rose before her, with my cheeks streaming with tears, my shirt was jutting out considerably in front in an unmistakeable and most prominent manner, and my prick was at the same time throbbing beneath it with convulsive jerks, which I could by no means restrain. + +Miss Evelyn glared at the projection in marked astonishment, and her open eyes were fixed upon it as I stood rubbing my bottom and crying, without attempting to move or button up my trousers. She continued for a minute or two to stare at the object of attraction, flushing scarlet up to the forehead, and the she suddenly seemed to recollect herself, drew a heavy breath, and rapidly left room. She did not return until after my sisters came back from the garden, and seemed still confused, and avoided fixing her eye upon me. + +In two days afterwards, all disagreeable marks of this very severe whipping had disappeared. On the following day we were invited to pass the afternoon at the grange, a beautiful place about two miles from us. The afternoon was fine and warm; we walked there, and arrived about four o'clock. Mr. and Mrs. Robinson were in the drawing-room, but at once desired us to go in the garden and amuse ourselves with their three daughters, whom we would find there. We went at once, and found them amusing themselves on a swing. Sophia, the eldest, about nineteen, was swinging a sister about two years younger, a very fine, fully developed young woman. Indeed, all three sisters were finer women and more beautiful than the average of young ladies. + +Another sister, Agnes, was not seated, but standing on the board between the ropes. Sophia was making both mount as high as possible. They were laughing loudly, when we found them, at the exposure each made—one in advancing, the other retiring. Agnes's light dress of muslin and single petticoat, as she retired and the wind came up from behind, was bulged out in front, and exposed her limbs up to her belly, so that one could see that her mount was already well furnished. The other, in advancing, threw her legs up, and exposed all the underside of her thighs and a part of her bottom, and you could just discern that there was dark hair between the lower thighs and bottom. + +As they considered me but a child, I was no check to their mirth and sport. On the contrary, the gave me a long rope to pull down the swing when at its highest, and I sat down on the grass in front for greater convenience. The fine limbs and hairy quims exposed freely before me from moment to moment excited my passions. None of them wore more than one petticoat, and they had no drawers, so that when they mounted to the highest point from me, I had the fullest possible view of all. My cock soon rose to a painful extent, which I really believe was noticed and enjoyed by them, I observed, too, that I was an object of attention to Miss Evelyn, who shortly seated herself in the swing, and allowed me to swing her with the end of the rope. I even fancied that she threw up her legs more than was at all necessary; at all events, she naturally, with the strong feelings I had towards her, excited me more than all the rest. + +We were as merry as could be, and we passed a delightful evening until eight o'clock, when it began to rain. As it continued, and became very heavy, Mr. Robinson ordered out the closed carriage to take us home. It was a brougham, only seated for two. Mary took Eliza on her knee, Miss Evelyn took me upon hers. I know not how it happened, but her lovely arm soon passed round my body as if to hold me on her knee, and her hand fell, apparently by accident, exactly on my cock—the touch was electric. In an instant, my member stood stiff and strong beneath her hand. Still Miss Evelyn, who must have felt the movement going on beneath her fingers, did not remove her hand, but rather seemed to press more upon it. In my boyish ignorance, I imagined she was not aware of what was happening. The motion and jolting of the carriage over rough road caused her hand to rub up and down upon my erected and throbbing member. I was almost beside myself, and to conceal my condition I feigned sleep. I let my head fall on Miss Evelyn's shoulder and neck—she allowed this. + +Whether she thought I had really fallen asleep I know not, but I was quite sensible that her fingers pressed my swollen and throbbing cock, and I fancied she was measuring its size. + +The tight grasp she managed to gain, and the continued jolting of the carriage, brought me up at last to such a pitch state that a greater jolt than usual, repeated two or three times in succession, each followed by a firmer pressure of her charming fingers, caused me such an excess of excitement that I actually swooned away with the most delicious sensation I had ever experienced in my life. I was some time before I knew where I was, or what I was about, and was only made conscious of our arrival at home by Miss Evelyn shaking me to rouse me up. I stumbled up, but though partially stupefied, I fancied Miss Evelyn's eyes shone with a brilliancy I had never before observed, and that there was a bright hectic flush on her cheek. She refused to go into the parlour, but hurried to bed on pretence of a headache. + +When I retired to bed, and took off my shirt, I found it all sticky and wet in front. + +It was thus I paid down my first tribute to Venus. I thought long over this evident approach to familiarity on the part of Miss Evelyn, and went to sleep with a lively hope of a more private interview with her, when I trusted that her evident passion would initiate me in the pleasures to be derived from her beauteous body. + +But again fate intervened, and another, not less beautiful, more experienced, and more inclined for the sport, was to be my charming mistress in love's revels. + +Two days after this, Mr. Benson was unexpectedly called away on pressing affairs, which he feared might detain him three weeks. He left Mrs. B. with us. As he had to be driven about nine miles to the town where the coach passed, mamma took the opportunity of going to the town with him. Mrs. B. complained of not being equal to the fatigue, and mamma told Miss Evelyn she would like her company, and as the two girls wanted new shoes, they could go also; I was to remain at home, and mamma desired me to be quiet and attentive to Mrs. Benson, who, observing no one, said to me, with a peculiar look: + +"I shall want you to hold my skeins, Charlie, so don't go out of the way, but be ready for me as soon as they are gone." + +She then went up to her bedroom, where Mr. B. immediately joined her, no doubt to re-enact the scene I had already witnessed from the closet on a previous day. They were fully half an hour occupied together. At length, all was ready, and off they went, leaving me to a fate I had little dreamt of. + +Mrs. B. proposed we should go up to the drawing-room, which looked out to the garden, and was nowhere overlooked. I followed her, and could not help admiring her fine figure as she preceded me in going upstairs. Although pale in complexion, she was well made, and very elegant in her carriage, and sat down on a low easy chair, throwing herself completely back, and crossing one leg over the other, apparently without being aware that she carried her petticoats up with the action, and exhibited the beautiful underleg up to the garter. + +I had never forgotten the day, when secreted in the closet, I had seen them completely exposed, and how charming they were. Her present negligent attitude, although far from the same exposure I speak of, was still, with the former recollection running in my head, enough to set my whole blood on fire. I have before remarked what a power beautiful and well-stockinged legs, and ankles and small feet, had upon my nervous system, and so it was now. As I gazed upon her handsome legs, ankles, and feet, I felt my prick swell and throb in a manner that could not fail to be perceptible to Mrs. B, especially as her head lay on a level with that part of my person as I stood before her. + +Although she continued knitting, I could see that her eyes were directed to that part of my person, and fixed upon the increasing distention of my trousers. In a few minutes she gave me a skein of worsted to hold, and desired me to kneel in front of her, so as to bring my hands down to the level of the low chair on which she was seated. + +I knelt close to the footstool on which her foot rested; it was raised up, and a very slight movement brought it against my person, at first rather below where my throbbing prick was distending my trousers. As she commenced to wind her ball, she gradually pushed her foot further forward, until the toe actually touched the knob of my cock, and occasionally moved it right and left, exciting me beyond measure. + +I flushed up to the very ears, and trembled so violently that I thought I should have dropped the skein. + +"My dear boy, what is the matter with you, that you blush and tremble so, are you unwell?" + +I could not answer, blushed more than ever. The skein at length was finished. + +"Charles," she said, "get up, and come here." + +I rose and stood by her side. + +"What have you got in your trousers that is moving?" + +And here her busy fingers commenced unbuttoning them. Released from confinement, out started my prick—stiff as iron, and as large as that of a youth of eighteen. Indeed, I was better hung than one boy selected out of five hundred of that age. Mrs. B., who had pretended to be perfectly astonished, exclaimed— + +"Good gracious, what a pego! Why Charles, my darling, you are a man not a boy. What a size to be sure!" and she gently handled it. "Is it often in this state?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"For how long?" + +"Ever since Miss Evelyn came." + +"And pray, sir, what has Miss Evelyn's coming had to do with it?" + +"I—I—I—I—" + +"Come now, Charles, be candid with me; what is it you mean where you say Miss Evelyn has caused you to be in such a state, have you shown her this, and has she handled it?" + +"Oh! dear no; never, never!" + +"Is it her face, her bosom, or her legs that have captivated you?" + +"It was her feet and ankles, ma'am, with her beautiful legs, which she sometimes exhibited without knowing." + +"And do all ladies' legs and ankles produce this effect upon you?" + +"Oh, yes, ma'am, if they are neat and pretty!" + +"And what make you so excited now?" + +"It was the sight of your beautiful legs just now, and the recollection of what I saw the other day, ma'am," I stammered out, blushing more than ever. + +While this conversation was going on, her soft hand grasped my distended prick, and had commenced slowly slipping the loose skin over the swollen head, and allowing it to slip back again. + +"I suppose, Charles, after what you saw in the closet, you know what this is meant to do." + +I muttered out an indistinct reply that I did, and I hung down my blushing face. + +"You have never out it into a lady, have you?" + +"Oh! dear no, ma'am." + +"Would you like to do so?" + +I did not answer, but sheepishly held down my head. + +"Did you see what I had in the same place, when you were in the closet?" + +I muttered, "Yes, ma'am." + +"Would it afford you any pleasure to see it again?" + +"Oh, yes; so much!" + +Mrs. B. rose, went to the window, drew down the blind, then gently turned the key in the door. Returning to the chair, and drawing well up her dress, petticoats and chemise, she exposed all her person up to the middle of her belly; and sat down stretching herself backwards, and opening her thighs well. + +"Well, my dear boy, look at it if you wish." + +I was no longer shy. Nature prompted me to an act of gallantry that gratified the lady immensely. Falling on my knees, I glued my lips to the delicious spot, pushing my tongue in as far as I could, and sucked it. It was quite spunky; I had no doubt but that Mr. B. had fucked her two or three times just before leaving. This, however, made no difference to me. The attack was as unexpected as it was delightful to the lady. She placed both hands on my head and pressed my face against her throbbing cunt. She was evidently hotly excited, not only by what I was then doing, but by the scene, the conversation, and the handling of my prick, which she had been indulging in. She wriggled her bottom nervously below me, I continued to greedily lick her moist and juicy cunt. + +"Oh! oh! dear Charles, what exquisite delight you are giving me. Oh! oh!" + +And she pressed my face more fully into the gaping sheath, and thrusting her bottom up at the same time, spent right into my mouth, over my cheeks, chin, and neck. Her thighs closed convulsively round my head, and for some moments she remained still. I continued to lick away, and swallowed the delicious spunk that still flowed from her. At last she spoke again— + +"Oh! you darling Charles, I love you for ever; but get up, it is now my turn to give you a taste of the exquisite pleasure you have given me." + +I raised myself, and she drew me to her, and gave me a long kiss, licking her own sperm from off my lips and cheek; and desiring me to thrust my tongue into her mouth, she sucked it deliciously, while her soft hand and gentle fingers had again sought, found, and caressed my stiff-standing prick. She then desired me to lay myself on the floor, with three pillows to raise my head, and lifting up all her petticoats, and striding across me, with her back to my face, she knelt down, then stooping forward, she took my standing prick in her mouth, and at the same time lowering her buttocks, brought her beautiful cunt right over and down upon my mouth, the pillows exactly supporting my head at the proper level, to command a thorough enjoyment of the whole, which now I had completely before my eyes. + +In the former sucking my own position hid everything from view beyond the rich mass of hair adorning her splendid mount of Venus, which I found to be much more abundant than it had appeared to me when I had seen it from the closet. When I applied my lips to the delicious gap, I found that she had the most beautiful silky light curls running up to and around her charming pink bottom-hole, and losing themselves in the chink between the buttocks. I applied myself furiously to the delicious gash, and sucked and thrust my tongue in alternately. I could see by the nervous twitching of her buttocks, and the bearing down of her whole bottom on my face, how much she was enjoying it. I, to, was in an extasy of delight. One hand gently frigged the lower portion of my prick, while the other played with my balls, and her beautiful mouth, lips, and tongue sucked, pressed, and tickled the head of my excited prick. The more furiously I sucked her cunt, the more her lips compressed the head of my pego, and her tongue sought to enter the urethra, giving me almost overpowering delight. Such reciprocal efforts soon brought on the extatic crisis, I cried out: + +"Oh, lady! oh, dear lady! let me go; I am dying!" + +She knew well enough what was coming, but she had her own way, and at the instant that she again poured down upon my mouth and face a plenteous discharge, her own rosy mouth received a torrent of my sperm. + +For some minutes we lay mutually breathless and exhausted. Then Mrs. B. rose, shook down her clothes, assisted me to rise, and taking me in her arms, and pressing me lovingly to her bosom, told me I was a dear charming fellow, and had enraptured her beyond measure. She then embraced me fondly, kissing my mouth and eyes, and desiring me to give her my tongue, sucked it so sweetly. + +"Now, fasten up your trousers, my darling boy." + +When I had done so, the blind was drawn up, and the door unlocked. + +We sat down, I by her side with one arm round her lovely neck, and the other clasped in her hand. + +"I am sure I can depend upon your prudence, my dear Charles, to keep all this a profound secret from every one. Your mamma thinks you a child, and will suspect nothing. I shall take an opportunity of suggesting that you shall sleep in the small room adjoining my bedroom, and with which there is a door of communication. When every one is gone to bed, I shall open the door, and you shall come and sleep with me, and I will let you enjoy me as you saw Mr. B. do the other day. Will you like that?" + +"Oh! above all things, oh, yes. But you must also allow me to kiss that delicious spot again that has just given me such pleasure. Will you not, ma'am?" + +"Oh, yes, my darling boy, whenever we can do so safely, and unobserved; but I must impress upon you never to seem very familiar with me before any one, or to take the slightest liberty unless I invite you to do so. Anything of the sort would certainly draw attention, and lead to our detection, and at once put an end to what I mean shall be a delightful connection for you as well as myself." + +I, of course, promised the most perfect obedience to her very prudent directions. The ice was broken, and we allowed no ceremony to stand between us. I grew again very excited, and would fain have proceeded at once to try again to fuck her as well as suck her, but she was inexorable, and told me I should only spoil the pleasure we should afterwards have in bed. The day passed like an hour in her charming society. + +The carriage brought mamma and party to dinner. Mamma hoped I had behaved well, and been attentive to Mrs. B. in her absence. She answered nothing could be better, and that I was quite a model youth—so gentle and so obedient. + +My mother found that she had caught cold, and had febrile symptoms after dinner. Mrs. B. persuaded her to retire to bed, and accompanied her. When in her room, she apparently noticed, for the first time, my little bed. She took the opportunity of suggesting that it would be much better to remove it to the small room, so as to leave my mother in perfect quiet, which my coming to bed might disturb. + +This was said in such an innocent natural manner, that no suspicion was excited on the part of mamma or anybody else. Mamma only making the objection that my early rising might by my noise disturb Mrs. B. in the next room. + +"Oh, no; I am not so easily disturbed, besides he has been so well behaved all day, that I am sure, if I tell him to be quiet in the morning, he will not fail to do so." + +So it was settled, and my bed was at once removed to the little room. + +I know not what Miss Evelyn thought of this; at any rate, she made no remark, and I went to bed early. It will easily be conceived that I did not go to sleep. The hours struck one after the other, and no appearance of my amiable instructress. The remembrance of all her charms was ever present to my mind's eye, and I longed once more to dart my tongue into her moist and juicy cunt, as well as to try the new method that was to initiate me into the real secrets of Venus. + +The long delay of her coming put me in a perfect fever. I tossed and tumbled in bed; my prick throbbed almost to bursting. Fortunately, I had never frigged myself, and that resource never occured to me, or I might have rendered myself quite incapable of enjoying the raptures my beautiful benefactress afterwards entranced me with. At last I heard voices and footsteps on the stairs. Mrs. B. bid Miss Evelyn good night, and the next minute her door was opened, closed again, and the key turned in the lock. I had taken the precaution to do so with my door. I heard her use the night vase, and then she opened my door, at once coming to my bed side. Seeing me awake and quite flushed, she kissed me, and whispered— + +"Have you not been to sleep, Charles?" + +"No, ma'am," I answered, in the same subdued tone, "I could not sleep." + +"Why, dear boy?" + +"Because I was going to sleep with you." + +Her lips pressed mine, and her soft hand, thrust under the clothes; sought for and caressed my stiff-standing prick—it was as hard as iron. + +"Poor boy, I am afraid you have been suffering. How long has it been in this state?" + +"All the evening, ma'am, and I did think you were such a long time in coming." + +"Well, Charles, I could not come sooner without causing suspicion—I thought Miss Evelyn was suspicious, so I pretended to have no desire to go to bed; and even when she showed evident symptoms of drowsiness after her long ride, I rallied her upon it, and begged her to sit up with me yet a little; until at last she could hold out no longer, and begged me to let her retire. I grumblingly complied, and she is thrown completely off any scent on our account, as she could never suppose I was impatient as you to come here. I shall undress as fast as possible, and then do my best to relieve you of this painful stiffness. Get up, shut this door, and come to my bed. My room has an inner baize door, and we shall there be certain of not being overheard." + +I instantly complied, and she commenced undressing. Every detail of her charming toilet was devoured by my greedy eyes. Her smooth, glossy, and abundant hair, arranged in braids, was neatly fastened in under a coquettish lace cap with pretty blue ribbons. Her chemise de nuit of the finest, almost transparent cambric was edged with fine openwork. She looked devine. The drawers of the commode contained scent bags of that peculiar odour which is generally found to perfume the persons of the most seductive women. In another moment she was in bed, clasping me in her arms. + +"Now, Charles, you must be a good boy, and make no noise, and allow me to teach you your first love lesson, see I will lay myself down on my back, thus—do you place yourself on your knees between my out-spread thighs—there, that is a darling—now let me lay hold of your dear instrument. Now lay yourself down on me." + +I placed myself on her beautiful smooth and white belly and pressed against the hair of her mount. With her long taper fingers she guided my prick—I trembled in every limb and almost felt sick with excitement—but when I felt the delicious sensation caused by the insertion of my skinned pintle between the smooth warm oily folds of the lady's cunt—I gave but one shove which carried me up so that I swooned away on her belly and milk-white bosom. + +When I came to myself I still lay on her belly, enfolded in her lovely arms, my prick sheathed up to the cods in her delicious cunt, which was throbbing in the most extatic way and pressing and closing with every fold on my prick—which had hardly lost any of its pristine stiffness; as my eyes began to discern her features, an exquisite smile played upon my darling companion's lips. + +"You sad rogue," she whispered, "you have given me a baby; what have you been doing to make you spend so soon, and in such a quantity, Did you like it?" + +"Oh, dearest madam, I have been in heaven—surely no joy can be greater than you have given me." + +"But you do not know as yet everything that is to be done, and to how much greater an extent the pleasure may be enhanced by mutual efforts; move your instrument gently in and out—there, that is delicious, but not so fast. Good, is it not nice!" + +And she moved in unison with me, meeting each slow thrust down by an equal movement upwards, and squeezing my prick in the most delicious manner internally, as she retired again to meet succeeding thrusts in the same way. + +Oh! it was extatic—my prick, swollen to its utmost size, seemed to fill her exquisite vagina, which although capable of easily accommodating the larger prick of Mr. B., appeared to be sufficiently contracted to embrace tightly with its smooth and slippery folds my stiff throbbing prick. So we continued, I shoving myself into her, and she upheaving her beautiful bottom to meet me. My hands removed everywhere, and my mouth sucked her lips and tongue, or wandered over her pulpy breasts sucking their tiny nipples. It was a long bout indeed, prolonged by Mrs. Benson's instructions, and she enjoyed it thoroughly, encouraged me by every endearing epithet, and by the most voluptuous manoeuvres. I was quite beside myself. The consciousness that I was thrusting my most private part into that part of a lady's person which is regarded with such sacred delicacy caused me to experience the most enraptured pleasure. Maddened by the intensity of my feeling I at length quickened my pace. My charming companion did the same, and we together yielded down a most copious and delicious discharge. + +Although I retained sufficient rigidity to keep him in his place, Mrs. B. would not allow any further connection with her, and she made me withdraw, and bade me go to sleep like a good boy, and she would give me a further lesson in the morning. + +Finding that she was determined on this point, and that she disposed herself to slumber, I felt I was obliged to follow her example, and at last fell fast asleep. It might be about five in the morning, quite light at that time of year, when I awoke, and instead of finding myself, as usual, in my own little bed—I found my arms round the person of a charming woman, whose large plump smooth bottom lay in my lap, pressing against my belly and thigh. I found my prick already in a rampant state, and it at once began throbbing and forcing its way between the delicious cheeks of her immense bottom, seeking the delightful sheath it had so enjoyed the previous part of the night. Whether Mrs. B, was asleep or not, I do not know, but am inclined to think she really was so, from the muttered mistake she made in waking. She was probably dreaming, for she mechanically raised her thighs. I pressed my prick stoutly forward against her luxurious body, knowing that the entrance to the temple of pleasure which had so entranced me the night before lay in that direction. I found more difficulties than I expected, but at length began to penetrate, although the orifice appeared much tighter than on the previous evening. Excited by the difficulties of entrance, I clasped the lady firmly round the waist and pushed forcibly and steadily forward. I felt the folds give way to the iron stiffness of my prick, and one-half of it was fairly embedded in my extremely tight sheath. I put down my hand to press my prick a little downwards to facilitate the further entrance; you may imagine my astonishment when on so doing I found myself in the lady's bottom-hole, instead of her cunt. This at once explained the difficulty of entrance. I was about to withdraw and place it in the proper orifice when a convulsive pressure of the sphincter caused me such exquisite satisfaction by the pressure of the folds on the more sensitive upper half of my prick, which was so delicious, and so much tighter, and more exciting than my previous experience of the cunt that I could not resist the temptation of carrying the experiment to the end. Therefore, thrusting my two fingers into her cunt, I pressed my belly forwards with all my might, and sheathed my prick in her bottom-hole to its full extent. Mrs. B at this awoke, and exclaimed, "Good Heavens! Fred, you hurt me cruelly. I wish you would be content with my cunt, I shall be unable to walk tomorrow. You know it always has that effect. It is downright cruel of you—but since you are in, stay quiet a little, and then continue to frig me with your fingers, as you know that eventually gives me great pleasure." + +She calls me Fred, what can she mean? I was, however, too agreeably situated to speculate on anything, but as I was now buried within her bottom-hole, I lay quiet for a few minutes as she had requested; and as her complaints subsided, and I felt a slight reciprocating movement, I, too, moved within her, working at the same time my two fingers in her cunt. By this time she was wide awake, and became conscious of who was her bed-fellow. + +"What are you about, Charles?" she exclaimed, "do you know where you are?" + +"I did not know I was doing anything wrong." + +"Doing wrong, indeed! My, a lady's bottom-hole was never intended for a pego. How came you to put it in there?" + +"I cannot tell; I did not do it on purpose. I thought I was going into the same delightful place I was in last night." + +All this time I was moving my prick in and out of one aperture, and my fingers were working away in the other. The tightness of the sheath round my prick was delicious beyond anything I could conceive, and I think, from the way the lady conducted herself, she liked it as much as I did. At any rate, she permitted me to go on until I had a delicious discharge; and she herself spent all over my hand. + +When the bout was over, she jumped out of bed, went to the basin, and with a sponge purified herself. After which, she said— + +"My dear boy, you had better come and wash yourself, too; and take care not to make a mistake of this kind again, as it is sometimes attended with disagreeable consequences." + +It was now perfect sunny daylight, and my enchanting mistress looked so lovely in her almost transparent cambric night-shirt that I was emboldened to ask her to let me see her perfectly naked in all her glorious beauty of form. She gratified me at once; but laughingly, pulled off my night-shirt, and said— + +"I, too, must have the pleasure not only of contemplating your promising youthful charms, but of embracing your dear form disencumbered of all the superfluities of dress." + +We clasped each other in a most enrapturing embrace, and then my lovely and engaging companion allowed me to turn her in every direction so as to see, admire, and devour every charm of her exquisitely formed body. Oh! she was indeed beautiful—shoulders broad, bosom, or rather upper neck, flat, not showing any projection of the collar bone; bubbies firm, well separated and round, with most exquisite rosy nipples not much developed; a perfect waist, small naturally, with charming swelling hips, and an immense bottom—it was almost out of proportion, large, but oh, how beautiful. Then her belly, undulating so enticingly, and swelling out, the lowest part into a very fine and prominent mons Veneris, covered with a thick crop of silky and curly light hair; then the entrance to the grotto of Venus had such delicious pouting lips, rosy, but with hair still thick on each side, which is often not the case even with women who have a sufficient tuft above, how beautiful where it exists as it did in this charming and perfect woman, continuing in beautiful little curls not only down to but around her lovely pinky and puckered little bottom-hole, the delights of which I had already, in this infancy of my love education, tasted and enjoyed. Her two alabaster thighs, worthily supporting by their large well-rounded fleshy forms, the exquisite perfections of the upper body, I have already described. How beautiful, elegant, and elongated her legs were, rising from well-turned ankles and most tiny beautiful feet. Her skin was white as milk, and dazzlingly fair and smooth. To my young eyes she was a perfect goddess of beauty. Even now, in advanced life, I can remember nothing that, as a whole surpassed her, although I have met many with points unsurpassingly beautiful—some carry it in the bosom, some in the general carriage, some in the mount of Venus and bottom together, and some in legs and thighs; but this devine creature, without having the appearance of it when dressed, was, when stripped, perfect in all her parts as well as beautiful in face—caressing and voluptuous by nature, and lending herself, with the most enchanting graces to instruct me in all the mysteries of love, and let me say, of lust also. + +We caressed each other with such mutual satisfaction that nature soon drove us to a closer and more active union of the bodies. Fondly embracing one another, we approached the bed, and being equally excited threw ourselves upon it, and, in the exquisite contact of our naked flesh, enjoyed a long, long bout of love, in which my most charming companion exhibited all the resources of amorous enjoyment. Never shall I forget the luxury of that embrace. She checked my natural tendency to rush at once to a completion. I think we must have enjoyed the raptures of that embrace fully half an hour before bringing on the grand finale, in which my active companion showed the extraordinary suppleness of her delicious body by throwing her legs over my back, pushing my bottom forward with her heels, and raising and sinking her bottom in unison with each thrust of my terribly stiff prick, which seemed to swell and become thicker and harder than ever. In retiring from each thrust, her cunt seemed to close upon my prick with the force of a pair of pincers. We both came to the extatic moment at the same time, and both actually screamed with delight; my ardent mistress in her fury of excitement actually bit my shoulder and drew blood; but I felt it not—I was in the seventh heaven of delight, and lay for long almost insensible on her beauteous body, clasped in her loving arms. On coming to our senses: + +"Oh, my beloved boy," she said, "never, never, have I experienced such pleasure. You are a perfect angel. I only fear I shall come to love you too much." + +We turned on our sides without dislodging the dear instrument of our enjoyment, and my lovely friend prattled on and delighted me with her toying, embracing, and gaiety. My prick had once more swelled up, and I wished to quietly enjoy a fuck in the luxurious position in which we lay; but my lovely friend said— + +"That must not be, my dear Charles, I must consider your health. You have already done more than your age warrants, and you must rise and go to your bed to recover, by a sound sleep, your strength." + +"But feel how strong I am," and I gave a forcible thrust into her glowing and well-moistened sheath. But, though she certainly was greatly excited, she suddenly turned round and unseated me, and drew away from me, refusing to take it again. As she was quite naked, the movements of her beauteous form were most graceful and enchanting, and one leg being thrown backwards left her lovely cunt full in view, and actually gaping open before me. Seized with the strongest desire to suck and kiss it, as I had done the night before, I begged that at least she would grant me that last favour, as it could not in any way do me harm. To this she readily consented, and lay down on her back, opening her glorious thighs, and with a pillow under her bottom so as to raise up her cunt into a better position for me to gamahuche her, as she called it. Before letting me begin, she said— + +"My dear Charles, do you see that little projection at the upper part of my quim, that is my clitoris, and is the site of the most exquisite sensation; you see it is rather hard, even now, but you will find as you titillate it with your tongue or suck it, that it will become harder and more projecting, so apply your lips there." + +I did as my lovely mistress desired, and soon found it stiffen and stand up nearly an inch into my mouth. + +The convulsive twitches of her buttocks, the pressure forward of her hand on my head, all proved the exquisite felicity my lovely friend was enjoying. I slipped my hand under my chin—the position was awkward, but I managed to thrust my thumb into her cunt. My forefinger was somewhat in the way—but finding it exactly opposite the rosy hole of her bottom, and all being very moist there, I pushed it forward and it easily entered. I could not move my hand very actively, but I continued to gently draw my finger and thumb a little back together, and then thrust forward again. It seemed to add immensely to the pleasure I was giving her; her whole body quivered with excessive excitement. My head was pressed so firmly against her cunt that I had difficulty in breathing, but I managed to keep up the action of tongue and fingers until I brought on the exquisite crisis—her buttocks rose, her hand pressed hard on my head and her two powerful and fleshy thighs closed on my cheeks on each side and fixed me as if in a vice, while she poured down into my mouth and all over my chin, neck, and hand a perfect rush of sperm, and then lay in convulsive movements of enjoyment, hardly knowing what she was doing. As she held me so fast in every way, I continued to lick up the delicious discharge, and continued at the same time to pass my tongue over her clitoris. This, by producing a new excitement, brought her senses round. So relaxing her hold of me with her thighs she said— + +"Oh, my darling Charles, come up to my arms that I may kiss you for the exquisite delight you have given me." I did so, but took care, in drawing myself up, to engroove my stiff-standing prick in the well-moistened open cunt that lay raised on a pillow so conveniently in the way. + +"Oh, you sad traitor," cried my sweet companion. "No, I cannot, I must not allow it," but I held her tight round the waist, and her position was too favourable for me to be easily unhorsed. + +"Ah! you must not, my dear boy. If you will not consider yourself, consider me. I shall be quite exhausted." I shut her mouth with my kisses and tongue, and soon the active movements I was making within her charming vagina exercised their usual influence on her lubricity, so as to make her as eager for the fray as myself. + +"Stop, my dear Charles, and you shall have it in a new position, which will give you as much more pleasure as it will me." + +"You are not going to cheat me, are you?" + +"Oh, no! my darling, I am now as much on fire as you are—withdraw." + +I obeyed, half in fear. My fair mistress turned herself round, and getting on her hands and knees, presented to my ardent gaze her magnificent bottom. I thought she meant me to once more put it into the rosy little orifice, and said so. + +"Oh! no," she replied, "not there"; but putting her hand under her belly, and projecting it backwards between her thighs, she said— + +"Give it me and I will guide it into the proper place." + +Before doing so I stooped forward and pushing my face between the glorious cheeks of her bottom, sought and found the lovely little orifice, kissed it, and thrust my tongue in. + +"Oh! don't Charles, dear, you tickle me so," then flinching, and squeezing her buttocks together, I had nothing for it but to put my prick in her hand. She immediately guided it to and engulphed it in her burning cunt up to the very hair. I found I apparently got in fully an inch further this way—the position also gave my beautiful instructress more power of pressure on my prick—then her glorious buttocks, heaving under my movements, and exposed in all their immensity, was most exciting and beautiful. I seized her below the waist with a hand upon each hip, pressing her magnificent backside against me each time that I thrust forward. Oh! it was indeed glorious to see. I was beside myself, and furious with the excitement the view of all these charms produced upon me. My charming mistress seemed equally to enjoy it, as was evinced by the splendid movements of her body; till at last overcome by the grand finale, she sank forward on her belly, and I followed on her back, without losing the position of my throbbing prick within her. We both lay for some time incapable of movement, but the internal squeezing and convulsive pressure of her cunt on my softened, but still enlarged prick, were exquisite beyond imagining. At last she begged me to relieve her. Getting out of bed, she sighed deeply, kissed me tenderly, and said, "My dear Charles, we must not be so extravagant in future, it will destroy us both—come, let me see you to your bed." The sight of my lovely mistress standing naked in all the glory of her beauty and perfection of form began to have its usual effect upon my prick, which showed symptoms of raising his head again; she gave it a pat, stooped down, and for a moment plunged its head into her beautiful mouth, then seizing my night-shirt, she threw it over my head and conducted me to my own bed, put me in, tucked me up, and tenderly kissing me, left the room, first unlocking my door and then locking the door of communication between the two rooms. Thus passed the first glorious night of my initiation into all the rites of Venus, and at the hands of a lovely, fresh and beautiful woman, who had only been married long enough to make her a perfect adept in the art. Never, oh never! have I passed such a night. Many and many a fine woman, perfect too in the art of fucking, have I enjoyed, but the novelty and the charm, the variety and the superiority of the teacher, all combined to make this night the ne plus ultra of erotic pleasure. + +It need not be said that, exhausted by the numerous encounters I had in love's battlefield, I fell into a deep and sound sleep, until aroused by being rudely shaked up. I opened my eyes in astonishment. It was my sister Mary. She threw her arms round my neck, and kissing me, said— + +"You lazy boy, do you know they are all down at breakfast, and you still asleep. What has come over you?" + +"Oh!" I said, "I got frightened with a horrible dream, and lay awake so long afterwards that when I did sleep, I overslept myself." + +"Well, get up at once," and pulling the clothes quite off me, she laid bare my whole private parts, with my cock, as usual in youth on waking, at full stand. + +"Oh! Charlie," said Mary, fixing her eyes upon it in astonishment at its thickness and length. "How your doodle has grown," and she laid hold of it. "Why it is as hard as wood, and see how red its head is." Without her knowing why, it evidently had its natural effect on her sense, and she flushed as she squeezed it. + +"Ah! my dear Mary, I have learnt a great secret about that thing, which I will tell you the first time we can be quite alone and secure from interruption. Just now there is no time, but before you go downstairs, let me see how your poor little Fanny is." + +We had been used to these infantile expressions when in our ignorance and innocence we had mutual examinations of the difference of our sexes, and my sister was still as ignorant and innocent as ever. So when I said that I had not seen it since it was so ill-treated in the terrible whipping she had received from Miss Evelyn, she at once pulled up all her petticoats for me to look at it. + +"Lie back for a moment on the bed." + +She complied. I was delighted. The prominence her mons Veneris had assumed, the increased growth of moss-like little curls, and the pouting lips of her tiny slit—all was most promising and charming. I stooped and kissed it, licking her little prominent clitoris with my tongue; it instantly hardened, and she gave a convulsive twitch of her loins. + +"Oh! Charlie, how nice it is! What is it you are doing? Oh, how nice! Oh, pray go on." + +But I stopped, and said— + +"Not at present, my darling sister, but when we can get away together I will do that and something much better, all connected with the great secret I have got to tell you. So run downstairs, and tell them why I had overslept myself, but not a word to anyone about what I have told you. I will be down in a trice." + +She went away, saying— + +"Oh, Charlie, dear, what you did just now was so nice, and has made me feel so queer; do find an early opportunity of telling me all about it." + +Very few minutes sufficed to finish my toilet and bring me to the breakfast table. + +"Why, Charlie," broke out my mother, "what is this horrid dream?" + +"I can hardly tell you, my dear mother, it was so confused; but I was threatened to be murdered by horrid-looking men, and at last taken to high rocks and thrown down. The agony and fright awoke me, screaming, and all over perspiration. I could not sleep for hours after, even though I hid my head under the clothes." + +"Poor child," said Mrs. Benson, who was quietly eating her breakfast. "What a fright you must have had." + +"Yes, ma'am, and at the same time, as I awoke with a scream, I was afraid I might have disturbed you, for all at once I remembered I was no longer in mamma's room, but next door to you. I hope I did not wake you?" + +"Oh, no, my dear boy; I never heard you, or I should have got up to see what was the matter." + +So it passed off, and no further observation was made about it, but I once caught Mrs. Benson's eye, and the expression and a slight nod was a sign of approval of my story. After breakfast we went as usual to the school-room. I thought Miss Evelyn was kinder in her manner to me than usual. She made me stand close to her when saying my lessons, occasionally letting her left arm fall round my neck, while she pointed to my book with the finger of the right, and there was always a certain pressure before raising her arm again. These little caresses were frequently repeated, as if she were wishing either to accustom me or herself to a habit of it, so as, doubtless, gradually to increase them to something more definite. I could not help feeling what a different effect these endearments would have had twenty-four hours earlier; but now, momentarily satisfied passions, and the new love that had seized me for Mrs. B., prevented at first the inevitable cockstand that would otherwise have been produced by these approaches of Miss Evelyn. Not that I had given up all desire to possess her. On the contrary, my last night's instruction only made me more anxious to have Miss Evelyn too. Therefore, I by no means repulsed her present caresses, but looked up innocently in her face, and smiled affectionately. In the afternoon she was more expansive, and drew me to her by her arm round my waist, and pressed me gently to her person, saying how well I was attending to my lessons, and how sorry she was to have been obliged to punish me so severely the week before. + +"You will be a good boy in future, will you not, dear Charlie?" + +"Oh, yes; as long as you are so kind to me. I love you so much, and you are so beautiful when you speak so kindly to me." + +"Oh, you little flatterer." + +And she drew me to her lips and gave me a sweet kiss, which I returned with eagerness. I felt my prick had raised itself up to its full extent as these caresses were exchanged, and as Miss Evelyn held me tight pressed against her thigh, she must have felt it throbbing against her. That she did so, I have no doubt, as her face flushed, and she said— + +"There, now, that will do, go to your seat." + +I obeyed; she rose in an agitated manner, left the room, and was absent for a quarter of an hour. I had no doubt but that she was overcome by her feelings, and I thought to myself she will manage to have me some of these days. I could afford to leave it to her own discretion, as my charming mistress of last night was there to keep me in exercise and cool the effervescence of passion under which I should otherwise have laboured. Nothing particular occured during the day; Mrs. B. was apparently indifferent about me, and never sought to approach or be in any way familiar; I studied her looks and followed her example. Mamma sent me early to bed, as she feared I had not had sleep enough the previous night by reason of my bad dream, and hoped I should have no more of the kind. This time my beautiful mistress found me sound asleep when she came to bed. She did not awake me until she had completed her night toilet, and was all ready to receive me in her arms. I sprung up, and in an instant, without a word being said, had her on her back, and was into her delicious cunt as far as I could drive my stiff-standing prick. My energy and fury seemed to please and stimulate the lady, for she replied to every eager thrust with as eager a spring forward. In such haste matters were very speedily brought to a crisis—with mutual sighs, and "oh's" and "ah's," we sank exhausted, and lay for a very short time, when charming Mrs. B. said— + +"Why, Charles, you are quite wild to me; what a hurry you have been in, but it was very nice, and I forgive you, but you must be more rational in future." + +"Oh, my beloved mistress, how can I help it; you are so beautiful, and so good to me; I quite adore and love every part of your charming body. I know I was too impetuous, but I must make it up by kissing and fondling the dear source of all my joys." + +She did not resist, but let me do as I liked. Pushing myself down the bed, I applied my lips and tongue to her lovely cunt, all wet with our mutual discharge, which was so sweet to the taste that I first began licking between the lips, and the applied myself to her excited clitoris, and with my finger and thumb working as on the previous morning I threw her into an extasy of delight, until again she had a delicious discharge. Then creeping up, I thrust my prick into her well-moistened and velvety cunt—as you may imagine it was rampant as ever after my mouth contact with the exquisite quim I had been sucking. + +"Stop, Charles, darling, I will show you another position, where you can lie easily with your dear delightful prick up to the hilt in the sheath you have so charmingly excited. Here, lie down by my right side —on your side." + +She lay down on her back, and throwing her right leg over my hips, told me to bend my knees forward and open my legs, or rather lift up my right leg. She placed her left thigh between my thighs, then slightly twisting her bottom up towards me brought the lips of her cunt directly before my prick, which she seized with her delicate fingers, and guided safely into Venus's grotto. I gave one or two shoves, and she a heave or two, to house him comfortably. + +"And now," she said, "we will take it reasonably in this way; we can go on, or stay occasionally; embrace, cuddle, or talk, just as we please. Are you quite comfortable?" + +"Oh! deliciously so!" I replied, as my hand wandered all over her beautiful belly and bubbies, and then my mouth sucked the last. + +"There, darling, that will do for the moment; I want to have some talk with you. First, let me thank you for your very discreet behaviour this day, it quite justifies the confidence I had in you. Your story of the dream was capital, and just suited the purpose. I hope, my dear Charlie, that under my auspices you will become a model lover—your aptitude has already proved in several ways. First and best, with all the appearance of a boy, you are quite a man, and even superior to many. You have already shown great discretion and ready wit, and there is no reason to fear that you will become a general favourite with our sex, who soon find out who is discreet and who is otherwise—discretion is the trump card of success with us. Alas! few of your sex understand this. Let me impress one lesson on you, my dear Charles. You and I cannot continue long on our present footing. My husband will return and carry me away, and although circumstances will throw us at intervals into each other's arms—for you may be sure you will be always welcome to me—yet my very absence will force you to seek other outlets to the passions I have awakened and taught their power. I have one piece of advice to give you as to your conduct to newer lovers—for have them you must, my dear Charles, however much you may fancy yourself now attached to me; with these, let them all for some time imagine that each possesses you for the first time. First of all, it doubles their satisfaction, and so increases your pleasure. Your early discretion causes me to think that you will see all the advantages of this conduct. I may add that if they suppose you have had previous instruction, they, if they are women, will never rest until they have drawn from you the secret of your first instructress. You might, of course, tell some tale of a 'cock and a bull,' but in searching for the truth and cross-questioning you when you are least aware of it, they will lead you into contradictions, and the truth will at last be ferreted out. Now this would be unjust to me, who have risked a good deal to give you the delightful instructions of last night, and, as I hope, of many more. So you see, my dear Charles, in all early cases you must enact the part of an ignoramus seeking for instruction, with vague ideas of how to set about it. I hope, while I am near you," she added, "no such occasion will arise, but I feel certain, with your passions and your power, dear, darling fellow—push away—I!—I!—I feel for cer—certain they will ar—arise." + +Thus ended the very wise and excellent advice this charming woman was giving me. Do not imagine that I did not pay great attention, and, indeed, her very reasonable maxims became the guide of my after-life, and I owe to them a success with women rarely otherwise obtained. Her sensible remark had been drawn out to such a length, that my prick had so far rebelled that he had throbbed inside of her delicious cunt so forcibly as to produce a happy movement of her body that interrupted and cut short her words. + +"Charlie, my darling, pass your middle finger down and rub it on my clitoris, and then suck the nipple of my bubby next you, and work away with your glorious prick." + +I did as desired. She seconded me with an art quite peculiar to herself, and at last we both died away in that love's death which is so overpowering and so delicious. The glorious position we were in rendered it almost impossible to lose ground, spend as often as you please; but if my prick had been one that would have shrunk to nothing, the wonderful power of retaining it within her possessed by my delicious mistress would have prevented the possibility of exit. + +In after-nights I have often fallen sound asleep with it entirely engulphed within her, and awoke hours afterwards to find her extraordinary power of retention had held him firm, notwithstanding his having shrunk up to a mere piece of doughy flesh. In this instance, after recovering our senses, I still retained my place, and we recommenced our conversation; my lovely instructress giving me many and most useful hints for my after-life. I have often since dwelt on the wisdom of all she so charmingly taught me, and wondered how so young a woman could have so thorough a knowledge of her sex and the world. I suppose love is a great master and inspired her on this occasion. I may here remark that for forty years afterwards this charming woman and I remained the fastest of friends after being the most ardent of lovers. She was the depository of all my erotic extravagancies, and never showed any jealousy, but really enjoyed the recital of my wildest love combats with others. + +Alas! death at last took her from me, and I lost the mainstay of my existence. Forgive this digression, but I am writing long after these events, and sorrows will have their vent. Woe is me! + +To return to present joys. We continued talking and toying, until I was again anxious to commence love's combat. My prudent mistress wished me to finish for the time, and to sleep and refresh ourselves for renewed efforts; but youth and strength nerved me for the fight, and being securely fixed, I held her as in a vice, with my thighs around only one of hers that could have allowed her to escape. Passing my finger down on her stiffened clitoris I so excited her that she had no wish but to bring matters to a crisis. + +"Stop, my dear," she said, "and we will renew our pleasure in another attitude." + +So withdrawing her leg off my loins, she turned on her side, so as to present her glorious buttocks before me, and pressed them into my belly and against my thighs, which seemed to introduce my prick even further than he was within before. Besides, in all these positions, where a woman presents her splendid backside to you, it is always more exciting, and has a greater hold of you than any other way. We did most thoroughly enjoy this splendid fuck, and without withdrawing, both fell into the sweetest imaginable slumber. This was one of those occasions in which, having fallen asleep engulphed, I awoke some five hours later, to find my prick still lightly held within the velvety folds of one of the most delicious cunts ever created for the felicity of man, or, I may say, woman either. You may easily imagine how soon my prick swelled to his wonted size on finding himself still in such charming quarters. I let him lay quite still, barring the involuntary throbs he could not avoid making, and bending my body away from my lovely mistress, I admired her breadth of shoulders, the beauty of her upper arm, the exquisite chute of her loins, the swell of her hips, and the glorious projection and rotundity of her immense buttocks. I slowly and gently pushed in and out of her juicy sheath, until, awakened by the exquisite sensations of my slow movements, all her lubricity was excited, and we ended one of our most delicious encounters, finishing, as usual, with a death-like exhaustion. She declared I had done enough for one night, and jumping out of bed, compelled me to betake myself to my own room, where, I must confess, I very shortly slept as sound as could be, without at the same time oversleeping myself. + +Thus passed several successive nights, until the fall of the moon, when one day Mrs. B. complained of headache and feeling unwell. I was very much alarmed, but she took occasion to tell me it was quite natural, and she would explain to me how it was so at night. I was obliged to be content with this. At night, she came and sat on my bed, and told me all the mysteries of the case. How women, not with child, had these bleedings monthly, which, so far from being hurtful, were a relief to the system, and that they happened at the full or the new moon, generally at the former. Further, that all connection with men must cease at such a time. I was in despair, for my prick was stiff enough to burst. However, my kind and darling mistress, to relieve me from the pain of distention, took my prick in her mouth, and performed a new manoeuvre. Wetting her middle finger with her saliva, she thrust it up my bottom-hole, and worked in unison with the suction of the knob, and the frigging of the root of my prick with the other hand. I had a most exquisite and copious discharge, the pleasure being greatly enhanced by the action of the finger up my fundament. My charming mistress swallowed all I could give her, and did not cease sucking until the last drop had exuded from my throbbing prick. + +I was obliged to be satisfied with this, and my mistress informed me I could have no more enjoyment for four or five days; which, to my impatience, was like condemning me to as many ages of hope deferred. I observed, while she was kissing me, that her breath had a peculiar odour, and I asked her what she had been eating. + +"Why do you ask, my dear boy?" + +"Because of the difference of your breath, generally so sweet and fragrant." + +She smiled and said it was all from the same cause she had just been explaining to me, and was very generally so with women at that period. I mention this because it was the means of my discovering that Miss Evelyn was exactly in the same state. She had continued her endearing caresses without proceeding much further than I have already described, except more frequently kissing me. She now always did so on first entering the school-room, and also when we were dismissed. I suppose to prevent an observation or inference, she had adopted the same habit with my sisters. On this day, having drawn me with her arm round my waist close to her, when she kissed me I felt the very same odour of breath that I had observed in Mrs. Benson. She too was languid that day and complained of headache. I also observed a dark line under her eyes, and on afterwards observing Mrs. B., saw precisely the same—so I became convinced they were unwell from the same cause. Mrs. B. had told me that most women were so at the full of the moon—which was then the case. + +The next day my mother proposed to drive to town, and probably knowing the state of the case, asked Mrs. B. and Miss Evelyn to accompany her, as she thought the airing would be beneficial. They at once accepted—my younger sister cried out, "Oh, mamma, let me go with you also." Mary interposed, and thought she had the best right—but Lizzie said she had spoken first. I managed to give Mary a wink and a shake of the head, which she instantly comprehended, so gracefully giving way, although with apparent reluctance, it was arranged that Eliza should accompany the ladies. I now felt my opportunity was at hand to initiate my darling sister into the delightful mysteries that I had just been myself instructed in. + +At eleven o'clock the carriage drove up, and we stood looking after them until they were lost to sight. Then returning into the parlour, Mary threw her arms round my neck, and kissing me, said— + +"Oh! I am glad, Charlie, you winked to me, for now you know we can do as we like, and you can tell me all about this secret, and you must kiss my little Fanny as you did before, it was so nice. I have thought of nothing else, but how to have it done again." + +"Well, my darling, I shall do all that, and more, but we cannot do so here. I tell you what we will do—we will pretend to go for a long walk in the country, but instead of that, we will pass through the shrubbery into the orchard and hazelwood, and so gain the little remote summer house, of which I have secured the key; there we shall be safe from all observation." + +This little summer house was at some distance from the house, and in a lonely corner of the orchard, raised on an artificial mount, so that its windows should command a lovely view beyond the walls of the grounds. It was about ten feet square—was beautifully sheltered, and the ladies in summer took their work there, and occupied it for hours every fine day; so it was furnished with tables and chairs, and on one side a long couch without a back. It had already entered into my idea that this was the spot I should contrive to get to with Mary—little thinking how chance would throw so glorious an opportunity in my way so soon. It was always kept locked to prevent it being used by the servants, gardeners, or others. I knew where the key was kept, and secured it when the ladies were dressing for their drive—so after staying sufficiently long to prevent any suspicion, and saying then we were going for a long walk in the country, so as to prevent them seeking for us at the summer house if any visitors should chance to call, we sallied out, but re-entered the grounds where we could not be observed, and speedily gained the spot we had in view—entered and locked the door. Then I drew down the blinds, threw off my coat and waistcoat, and told Mary to take off her shawl and bonnet, and outer gown. + +"But why all this, Charlie, dear?" + +"First, my darling—all those are in the way of kissing and toying with your charming little Fanny, and next, I don't want anything to appear tumbled when we go back." + +This was enough, and she did everything as I desired, indeed, more, for she took off her petticoat and little corset, saying she would be cooler thus. So, following her example, I took off my trousers, saying she would be better able to see and play with my doodle. When these preliminaries were accomplished, I drew her on my knees—first pulling up her shift and my own shirt, so that our naked flesh should be in contact. Seeing that her chemise fell off from her bosom, I first felt her little bubbies, which were beginning to develope themselves, and had the tiniest little pink nipples that even my lips could hardly get hold of. She had pulled up my shirt to look again at the great change that had occured to my prick—of course, our preliminaries had already excited it to a stiff-standing position. + +"Oh, Charlie, what a size it is to be sure; and how nice to pull this skin over its head; look how it runs back again. Oh! how funny!" + +It was time to stop this, or she would have soon made me discharge. + +"Well, then, what is this great secret, and what has it to do with your doodle and my Fanny?" + +"I will tell you, but you must never say a word to a soul—not even to Eliza, she is too young yet." + +"Well, go on." + +"I was one day seeking something in the closet in Mrs. Benson's room, when I heard them coming, and had only the time to slip into the closet. They entered, locked the door, and Mr. B. laid her on the bed, and lifted up all her petticoats so that I saw her Fanny quite surrounded with hairs, as yours will be by and by. Mr. B, stooped down, and applied his tongue as I did to you the other morning." + +"Oh, yes; and it was so nice, Charlie!" + +That is exactly what Mrs. B. said when he had done. Then he pulled out his doodle, such a size, much bigger than mine, and whipped it into her Fanny. I was quite frightened, and thought he must have killed her. But no, it went in quite easy; and she hugged and kissed him while he pushed it up and down for some time, till they both stopped all at once. He then drew it out, hanging down all wet, and asked if it had not given her great pleasure. 'Delightful,' she said. 'I have now got used to it, but you know you hurt me, and made me so sore the first time you did it.' After this they left the room, and I got away without being discovered. But I found out what our two things were made for, we will do as they did, so lie down on the couch whilst I kneel at the end, and begin in the way I kissed it the other morning." + +"Oh, Charlie, if it is all like that, I shall be so pleased with it." + +Down she squatted, drawing up her chemise. My hand wandered all over her charming belly and mount. Then kneeling down, and putting her legs over my shoulders, and my hands under her thighs and bottoms, I applied my tongue at once to her little clitoris, which I found was already stiff, and showing its head at the upper part of her pinky slit. The action of my agile tongue produced an instantaneous effect—her loins and thighs heaved up her bottom to press her little pouting cunt against my face. Mechanically she put her hand on my head, and muttered terms of endearment— + +"Oh, darling Charlie, how delicious! Oh! do go on! it is so nice, &c." + +I wanted no stimulant, but licked away until, with shortened breath; and greater heavings of her body, she began to stammer— + +"Oh! oh! I feel so queer—ah, stop; I am going to faint—I, I, I, can't—can't bear it any longer—oh!—oh!" Her limbs relaxed, and she died away in her first discharge, which was very glutinous and nice, but only scanty in quantity. I let her quiet until she came to; then looking in her face, and smiling, I asked her how she liked it. + +"Oh! I was in heaven, dear Charlie, but I thought it was killing me —it was almost too much to bear—nothing could be more delicious." + +"Oh, yes!" I replied, "there is something more delicious still, but, I must kiss you in this way again before we try the other; the more moist the inside is the easier I shall get in." + +"But, Charlie, you don't mean to say you will ever get in your doodle, now that it has grown so big." + +"Well, we will try, and if it hurts you too much we can stop." + +So I began again to gamahuche her; this time it took a longer effort to produce the ultimate result; but apparently with still greater effect, and a more copious discharge. Her little cunt being now relaxed, and well moistened with her own discharge and my saliva, and well inclined to receive my prick, I spat upon it and lubricated it from head to root. Then rising from my knees, I stretched myself over Mary's belly, and gently directing my prick, and rubbing it up and down first between the lips, and exciting her clitoris by the same action, I gently and gradually inserted its head between the lips of her charming little cunt. There was less difficulty than might have been expected, the gamahuching and double spending had relaxed the muscles, and her passions being excited also acted on her organs of generation; at all events, I got in the head, and about two inches of its length without her murmuring anything beyond— + +"How big it feels—it seems to stretch me so." + +All this was exciting me dreadfully, and it was only by the greatest effort that I did not thrust rudely forward. I now felt I was pushing against some obstacle, I thrust hard and hurt her. She cried out, begged me to stop. I was so near the finale that I felt I must go on. So, plunging forward, I rushed, at the impediment, and made her cry out most lustily. Probably another push would have decided my position, but nature could hold out no longer, and I yielded down my erotic tribute to her virginal charms, without having actually deflowered her. So far, perhaps, it was fortunate, because I poured into her a torrent of sperm which was not only balm to her partially wounded hymen, but so relaxed and lubricated the interior of her cunt as greatly to facilitate my after-efforts. + +I lay quiet still for some time, and the gradual swelling out and throbbing of my prick reawakened her young passions. She said— + +"Charlie, my dear, you said that it would prove delicious in the end, and I can feel it is becoming so. I have no more pain, and you shall go on just as you like." + +As my prick stiffened at her endearing words and involuntary pressures, and as I had it completely under control, since I had taken the edge off its immediate appetite by the last discharge, I held it literally well in hand; and as I had lost no ground by withdrawing, I started with the advantage of possession. First I slipped my hand down between our two bellies and began frigging her clitoris, which immediately excited her passions to the highest pitch. + +"Oh! Charlie, dear, now push it all in—I do so long for it—and I don't care how it hurts me." + +I had been giving short thrusts more to stimulate her passions than to alleviate my own; and as she was totally unaware of what was going to happen, she widened her thighs and heaved up her bottom, expanding her vagina in the act. I gathered my strength together, and as my cock was standing as stiff as iron, I suddenly drove it forward, and felt that I broke through something, and gained two inches more insertion at least. The effect on my poor sister was most painful, she shrieked out lustily; strove hard to unsheath me, wriggled her body in all directions to effect this; but I was too securely engulphed for that, and all her struggles only enabled me the more easily to sheathe him up to the very hairs. So excited was I by her tears and screams, that I was no sooner there than a torrent of sperm burst from me, and I lay like a corpse on her body, but perfectly maintaining the ground I possessed. This death-like quiet lasted some minutes, and, to a certain extent, assuaged the violence of the pain I put poor Mary to. Doubtless, also, the balmy nature of the ample quantity of sperm I had shot up to her womb helped to soothe her suffering. At all events, when we were both able again to converse, she upbraided me with the agony I had caused her, and wished me to get off her at once; but retaining the advantageous possession of her very tight and delicious sheath, I told her all was now over, and we might look forward to nothing but enrapturing pleasure. + +Some minutes had elapsed in these remonstrances on one side; and coaxings on the other, when I suddenly felt her charming little cunt actually throb upon and give an involuntary squeeze to my prick, which was still throbbing her. He was far too ready to stand at any time, still more when engulphed in the exquisite young cunt he had just initiated into love's mysteries—bref—he stood stiff as ever, and Mary, at first with a shudder of fright, then with all the energy of awakened passion, began to move her body under me. I held off from any interference, feeling certain that if the desire came naturally to her it would doubly enhance my own pleasure. My foresight did not fail me. Mary's passions became fully aroused, and when so, the trifling soreness passed out of mind, and we actually had a most delicious fuck, in which my prick appeared as if in a vice, and Mary wriggled her backside almost as well as the more artistic movements of Mrs. Benson. All things must come to an end, but this did so amid screams of delight on both sides. This single bout began and finished the education of my darling sister. She hugged and fondled me afterwards, declaring I was quite right in telling her pleasure followed pain; for nothing could exceed the enrapturing nature of the sensation my prick had produced. She thought now that it was not a bit too big, but just made to give the utmost satisfaction. We remained locked in each other's arms, my prick still engulphed in its tight and exciting sheath. We fondled and prattled, until it became again in a state of violent erection, equally stimulating her tight little cunt, so that we were forced to recommence our love encounter. I found that my dear little sister possessed naturally the power of throbbing on or nipping a prick, which the French call casse-noisette. It is a great gift and adds immensely to the man's pleasure, and I should think to the woman's too. In my sister's case it began from the very first complete insertion of my prick and the years that I afterwards continued to fuck her added nothing to this delicious accomplishment, except in the variety of positions in which it could be exercised. + +The dear girl was in extasies at the pleasure she had received, and at the pain which seemed to be past. Oh! she was so sweetly caressing that I could not withdraw from her, and we fondled and toyed until again my cock rose to his first vigour, and she nothing loath, began her new and naturally taught gift of bottom upheavings and cunt pressures until again we sank exhausted in the death-like ending of love's battles. On recovering our senses, I was obliged to withdraw and relieve my sister of the dead weight of my body on her person. + +It has always struck me as extraordinary how the most delicate women will support a heavy man on their persons, not only without flinching, but even with ease and pleasure—but so it is. On rising and withdrawing, we were both alarmed to see that my prick was all bloody, and that blood and semen were oozing from her cunt. We had no idea this would be the case, and at first I was as frightened as she was. A moment's reflection showed me that it was only the natural result of forcing my way in, and that the pleasure since enjoyed proved it to be of no consequence. I soon convinced and calmed my sister on the point—fortunately the sofa covering was red, and applying my handkerchief, I wiped up all the semen mixture, and, in fact, no marks remained; the same handkerchief wiped all results from Mary's dear little cunt, and as her shift had been kept well up, fortunately no stains appeared upon that. + +We now ate some luncheon and drank some wine that we had prudently brought with us. We then began playing and romping together—she wanting always to get hold of my prick, and I to pull her about in every way. It was gloriously warm weather, so I proposed we should off with every thing. In a trice we were as naked as we were born, and flew into each other's arms in a frenzy of delight, then we had a mutual thorough inspection. My darling sister gave every promise of becoming a magnificent woman—her shoulders were already wide—her arms well shaped, although still thin—her waist small—the swell of the hips already well developed—as to her bottom, it stuck out well and hard behind, quite charming to see, and giving promise of very ample dimensions hereafter. + +I made her kneel on the low couch, with her head well up and her thighs open; kneeling behind, I gamahuched her until she spent; then rising, shoved my prick into her cunt, in her then position, and had a downright good poke, which she, too, found was a way that gave her extra excitement. We passed thus some hours in mutual delights. I taught her the side fuck which had so charmed me with my delightful instructress, and I found dear Mary even an apter scholar than myself had proved. The afternoon advancing, we dressed, and eradicating all signs of what we had been doing, returned to the house, mutually promising to keep thoroughly secret all that had passed and agreeing that no sign of unusual familiarity should escape us. I strongly advised Mary to get some warm water and bathe her cunt well, for, as may be supposed, I had taken the opportunity of teaching her the true erotic language as applied to the organs of generation of both sexes, and the name of the connection itself, "fucking." + +Thus delightfully ended the first lesson in love taught to my sister, and such was my first triumph over a maidenhead, double enhanced by the idea of the close ties of parentage between us. In after-life, I have always found the nearer we are related, the more this idea of incest stimulates our passions and stiffens our pricks, so that if even we be in the wane of life, fresh vigour is imparted by reason of the very fact of our evasion of conventional laws. + +We had both returned to the drawing-room for more than an hour before the arrival of the ladies. Dear Mary complained of feeling sore and stiff in every limb. I had advised her to lie down on the sofa and try to sleep. I did the same, and happily we both dozed off, and never awoke until the loud rat-tat of arrival at the house door roused us up. I told Mary to hide all appearance of pain, and only to say, as an excuse for going early to bed, that we had gone further afield than we at first intended, and that she was very tired. We were both sent early to bed, for I was still treated as quite a boy, and I was sound asleep when my charming Mrs. B. woke me up by her warm caresses. I could well have spared them that night, but when did one of my years not respond to the endearments of the woman he loved, and who yielded all to him. She sucked me dry as usual, and I slept soundly till morning. + +The next three days passed without anything to record. Mary did not allow her real soreness to appear, but heroically went through her sufferings, for she told me afterwards she felt very severe pains all over, doubtless her whole nervous system had been overexcited, and this was the natural reaction; it was so far fortunate that not a shadow of a chance of our having fresh connection occurred, so she had time to perfectly recover from the ill effects of her first initiation into the erotic raptures. I continued to have the relief each night of the charming mouth of my loved and beautiful instructress. At last, the abominable menses, as she called them, were past and gone. For a full twenty-four hours after, she would not allow me to reassume all the privileges she had previously granted, and admit me to share her bed. She told me this was necessary to prevent any recurrence, and also that in some cases a virulent white discharge occasionally followed for some hours, sufficiently acrid to affect my local health, and "that," she added, "was now too precious in her estimation to risk it in any way." I thought it hard at the time, but it was only another proof of the thoughtful wisdom of this estimable woman. At last, I was again in full possession of her charming person. Oh! how we did revel in all the luxuries and lubricity; almost every night my enchanting friend found some new position to vary and enhance our erotic raptures. One new dose was laying me down flat on my back, then straddling over me, she sank on her knees, and with body erect, lifted up or rather bent back my stiff-standing prick, until he was fairly below her open cunt, then guiding it exactly to the proper entrance, she sank her body slowly down upon it until fully engulphed, hair crushed hair, then as slowly raising again, she drew off until all but the nut was uncovered, to again sink down. In this position we could both see the whole process. At length, becoming too excited, she sank on my bosom, then one arm and hand pressed her splendid buttocks down on my throbbing prick after every elevation of her magnificent backside while my other hand, doubling round behind her, introduced the middle finger up her charming bottom-hole, and worked in and out in unison with both our heaving movements, until stopped by the grand crisis, when death-like langour overcame us both almost at the same moment. I must not forget to mention that from time to time I paid a visit to the small and rosy orifice that lay so near to the more legitimate altar of Venus. It was a variety of enjoyment that my lovely mistress acknowledged to me she at times felt much inclined to enjoy, but only after having the front path of pleasure well fucked and lubricated with sperm, which alone caused the other mucous membrane to feel inclined that way. + +I will here insert a characteristic letter from my loved mistress to her intimate and bosom school friend, with the reply thereto. It was several years before they were shown to me, and some time after I had possessed both the charming writers, for we all three became fast friends; indeed, I may call myself or rather my prick, the pivot on which their friendship turned, yet there never was the shade of jealousy on either part, but in these remarks I am anticipating what I may, perhaps, be hereafter tempted to describe more fully. I give these letters now, because they immediately refer to the events I am at present relating. They show the secret working of my loved mistress's mind, and the voluptuous nature of her temperament, and the satisfaction that my delicious initiation had given. Her affectionate and flattering remarks, relating to myself, are greater than I deserved. The following is the first letter addressed to her friend: + + +MRS. BENSON TO THE HON. MRS. EGERTON. + +Dear Carry, + +I am about to keep my promise, and give you an account of our honeymoon. You, my dear, must be equally faithful, and reply as frankly as I am now about to write to you. + +Two giddier girls than you and I never entered the bonds of matrimony, or more earnestly longed for the sights connected with it. Well, after the usual breakfast, we left by rail for Leamington, where we were to pass our first night. We had a coupé to ourselves; and beyond seating me on his knee, and kissing me, Fred behaved with much decency and propriety. We arrived and dined. The hour between tea and bedtime was sufficiently tedious, as both of us were naturally much preoccupied. My husband wrote a letter to mamma, telling her of our safe arrival, and of his intense happiness. After which he asked me if I would go to bed, in the most matter-of-fact way imaginable. I murmured an affirmative, scarcely knowing what to say. He rang for a candle, and told me he would follow shortly. It seemed like a dream to me. The maid showed me to a room containing a large four-post bedstead, heavily hung with curtains, and provided with old-fashioned furniture. + +I seated myself on the edge of the bed and began to meditate. I sat thus, for, I dare say, ten minutes, and then commenced undressing. I had put on my night-gown, and removed everything but my stockings, when I heard footsteps approach the door. I opened, and my husband entered, closed it, and turned the key. Oh! Carry, I did feel so funny. I was undressed in a bedroom with a man, and that man had a right to my person. He seated himself in an armchair, and drew me on his knee. Nothing but my thin night-gown separated my bottom from his bare knee, for he had quite undressed in an adjoining room and had nothing on but his shirt under his dressing-gown, which flew open as he sat down. He drew my lips to his, and kissing me, thrust his tongue between them, while his hand first caressed and squeezed my bosom, which, you know, is pretty full and well developed; it then wandered down upon my thigh, pressed and felt the fleshy form. Little by little he approached my belly, and for a moment pressed my mount. These preliminaries are at all times exciting, but now they made me almost ill, so great was my confusion. Seeing this, he drew up my night-gown, and placed his hand, first on my naked thigh, then on my mount, and you know, Carry dear, what a forest I have got there. He seemed delighted with it. His fingers played with the silky curls, drawing them out to their full length, so long that it appeared to surprise him, and his eyes sparkled, and his face showed much excitement. + +"Open your thighs, dearest," he whispered. + +I obeyed mechanically, and his middle finger forced itself between the lips of my cunt, and commenced rubbing my clitoris. You know, by experience, what an excitable one it is and to what a size it developes itself when excited. Again Fred seemed delighted with his discovery. + +"Does that please you, my darling?" + +"Yes," I faltered out. + +He thrust his finger up my cunt, then rose up, threw off his dressing-gown, took me in his arms, and lifted me on the bed, placing a pillow under my head. Then letting my legs fall over the sides, he knelt on the floor, and separating my thighs with his arms, stooped and kissed my quim. He did more, he sucked and then licked with his tongue my already excited clitoris. It set me on fire, and I could not avoid showing it by the convulsive twitchings of my loins and buttocks. + +"Do you like that, my love?" + +"Oh! yes; so much!—so very much!" + +I was nearly mad with the excitement he was putting me into. He again stood up, and lifting my legs, his hands pressed them again and again. + +"What delicious legs," he exclaimed. + +I could see his shirt bulging out. He leant forward, and with his arms under my legs, lifted them well up, and I felt a stiff thick thing pressing against my cunt. His left hand opened the lips, his right hand guided it between them, and a cruel push lodged its great head completely within. Neither you, or I, Carry, were strictly virgins, our fingers and other means had opened our vaginas to a certain extent. We had played too many tricks together to have left our maidenheads quite intact, so that the passage was less difficult than it might have been. Nevertheless, it had never been penetrated by the male organ, and that of my husband was of the largest. I experienced, therefore, a great deal of pain, and cried out— + +"Oh, my dear Fred, you hurt me dreadfully, what are you doing?" + +"Doing, my darling! why, I am getting into you. Have a little patience, and I will make you mad with pleasure." + +Another determined thrust sent him halfway, and then with another, still more violent, he lodged himself up to the hilt within. I screamed with real pain, and struggled to free myself. + +"Good heavens, sir, you are killing me; I will not endure such treatment." + +He heeded me not, but holding me fast by the thighs commenced shoving in and out furiously. A sensitive woman never receives an insertion of this kind with impunity. The friction began to excite feelings that first deadened the pain of entrance, and then began to awaken the delicious sensations of lubricity. The enjoyment I began to experience was delicious, and I could not refrain from heaving up to meet his thrusts. + +"That is right, my angel; was I not correct in saying it would soon turn from pain to pleasure? Do you not enjoy it now?" + +"Yes; but you make me feel so funny. I don't know what—it—is." + +His increased and rapid movement filled me with delight; I bounded up and down in response to his thrusts, and felt so queer when, all of a sudden, he gasped for breath, stopped, and I felt a greater and stiffer swelling of his instrument, and then a gush of hot liquid dashed against my womb, which continued running for some seconds. This, Carry, was my first experience of what a man can do for us. + +Withdrawing his huge affair—for he since admits he is larger than most men—letting go my thighs—he pressed down upon me, and tenderly embraced me, and said that I had behaved admirably; in future there would be no more pain, and from what he had already experienced he felt sure I was made for the fullest enjoyment that husband and wife could indulge in. After a little fondling, he rose, drew off my stockings, and helped me into bed, immediately following me. On throwing back the clothes to enter the bed, he said he must kiss the dear little hairy thing that had given him such pleasure. He kissed and toyed with it admiring the profusion of hair on my mount, the whiteness and beauty of my belly, and then, baring my breasts, admired, kissed, and sucked them. All this not only excited me, but I could see very well it had again caused his affair to stick out. Seeing that I was timidly glancing at it, he seized my hand, and made me lay hold of it, showed me how the skin covered and uncovered its head; then becoming rampageous, he got on my belly and between my thighs, and again introduced his cock to where it had already given such pleasure. He still rather hurt me, and made me smart for a little while, but as the interior was well lubricated by his former discharge, the penetration was easily accomplished. When up to the hilt, and the two hairs were closely joined, he paused and said— + +"We will take it less impatiently this time, that my darling Bessie may enter into all the joys of fucking, for that is what we call it my dear; so I shall go slowly to work until my darling's passions awake and urgently call for more rapid movements." + +He did so, and gradually produced the most lascivious excitement in my whole body. I writhed beneath him in the utmost extasy, threw my arms round his body, and hugged him to me. + +"Oh! you are an angel," he cried, "and made for enjoyment. Throw your legs also over my back—there, that is it—and now I will hasten my movements, and we will die away together." + +Oh, the delight he gave me was inexpressibly delicious; his rapid and eager thrusts were as eagerly met by the upheaving of my bottom to reciprocate them. The grand crisis seized us simultaneously, and we sank momentarily exhausted in each other's arms, leaving the dear exciter of such joys soaking within. My dear husband was so pleased, he kissed and fondled me in the sweetest manner, telling me that never woman before had yielded him such intense pleasure, that nature had prompted me to as much enjoyment as if I had been already married a month. + +We were locked closely in the warmest embrace; his tenderness and fondling began to have its effect on my passions, and involuntarily I made some internal convulsive twitchings. + +"I feel you, my darling, calling on my instrument for renewed efforts; he will soon respond." + +And, in fact, I felt it swelling and swelling so deliciously that I could not help continuing the interior pressures, although feeling confusedly ashamed of the notice my husband took of it. + +"Don't be afraid, my sweetest love, but give way to whatever your passions dictate, and thus you will best please me, and give to yourself double enjoyment. I mean to initiate you into every secret that the rites of Venus possess, and wish that my loved wife should become a devoted votary, and I will do my best that she may revel in all the luxuries of perfect coition." + +We completed this course with even greater abandon than before, and I began to enjoy his embraces beyond anything our imaginations used to suggest. This time he withdrew and lay down by my side, and taking me within both his arms, continued his charming endearments. I never slept that night; I was in a fever of restless excitement. My husband fucked me five times before he dozed off. Towards morning I tossed and tumbled, and could not sleep. Daylight soon came, my restlessness had shaken all the bed clothes off, except a part of the sheet, and turning towards my husband, I perceived that the sheet stuck up over the lower part of his body. Curiosity seized me—I looked at him, and saw he was evidently sleeping. So gently removing the sheet, I beheld the dear instrument of all my last night's joys as well as pains. You know how we used to long to see man's cock when we were at school, and how, when we did sometimes see a boy's limp thing hanging down, we used to wonder what change would come over it, and how. Well, here was an opportunity of examining, at my ease, the wonderful curiosity that had so puzzled us. The last edge of the sheet passing over it touched its ruby head; it throbbed and pulsated to the view. I was afraid this had awakened Fred, but no, he slept as sound as ever. So I gently raised myself on my bottom, and gazed on the dear object I had so longed to see and feel. There it stood up like a pillar, rather bending towards his belly: and what surprised me much was to see a dark strongly wrinkled bag at its roots, with apparently two large balls inside; the hair on its roots spread in dark mass up to his navel, and beautifully bright and curling it was. I approached my lips, and made the action of kissing, without touching it. Whether it felt my warm breath, I know not, but it actually throbbed a response. What a great big thing it was, equally long as it was thick, I did not think I could encircle it with my hand; I longed to try, but was afraid I should waken Fred, and what would he think of me, I blushed at the very idea; but my passions became excited, and too strong to resist the temptation. So first lying gently down again, I very quietly dropped my arm over him and touched his cock, it throbbed at the touch, but Fred slept on. So raising myself again, I very gently laid bold of it. It was as much as I could grasp below the head, but was beyond my grasp at the root; I found it took three of my hands to measure its length from the root to the nut, which stood out in all its redness above. I was almost breathless with excitement, and lost some of my caution. Stooping down, I gently kissed the ruby head, when, before I knew where I was, it was pushed up into my mouth, and my husband's voice said— + +"Oh, you dear darling creature! how kind of you to waken me so luxuriously!" + +I was horrified at being discovered; and blushing up to the eyes, I hid my face in his bosom. + +"Do not be ashamed, my angel, it is now as much yours as mine, and have you not as much right to see, kiss, and handle it? come, don't be ashamed." + +However, I could not face him, and when he tried to raise my head I turned my back. He seized me round the waist, and, before I knew where I was, passed a hand between my thighs, and guided his huge cock to the lips of my cunt, and was in me, I thought further than ever, in a moment. It is true the previous toying with his instrument had terribly excited me, and I had felt that my cunt had become very moist, but I had no idea that anything could be accomplished in that position. I was most delightfully undeceived, for not only did it feel tighter in it, but transferring his fingers from guiding his prick, he touched and played with my clitoris, and produced such excessive lubricity that I went off and spent with a scream of delight before he was ready; but continuing with finger and cock to ravish me inside and out, he soon brought me again to such a pitch of lewdness that I was quite ready to spend with him when the grand crisis arrived. Nothing could exceed the pleasure; my internal pressures, he declared, were the most exquisite he had ever experienced. My clitoris, too, he declared was quite unique. You remember how it used to stick out when excited as far as the first thumb joint, and how, when sometimes I played the husband on your belly, you declared that it actually entered between the lips of your cunt, rubbed against your smaller development, and gave you great pleasure, as indeed it gave me. My husband has often examined and sucked it, and admires it beyond measure. At present he did not withdraw, declaring that I held him so tight he did not think he could pull it out if he tried. In fact, it was involuntary on my part, and I could not help clinging to his dear instrument for the life of me. + +Oh, how he fondled and embraced me, making me partially turn my body so that he might kiss and tongue me, and then suck my bubbies; his busy finger all the time tickling and frigging my clitoris. I soon felt his cock swelling so deliciously within me, and he shortly recommenced his rapturous pushings in and out. We made a long, long bout of it, and I am sure that I spent twice before joining him at the last moment, when he died away in a shout of joy that I feared must have been heard by the servants in the house, who long before this had been on the move. After this we lay soaking and enjoying it for more than half an hour, when my husband declared he felt as if a wolf was at his stomach, and that he must have some breakfast. He got up and quickly dressed, desiring me to lie still, and he would bring me some breakfast in bed, and that, while it was getting ready, he would order some warm water to bathe myself with. I felt his delicacy, and loved him for it. The water came, I was much refreshed after using it, and got into bed again, but I felt awfully stiff and done up all that and next day. + +My darling husband waited on me himself at breakfast, stimulating me to eat freely as a means of restoring my lost strength; which he very soon put to the test again, for he fucked me three times during the day, and each time he gave me greater pleasure than before. He was just as active at night. And the whole three weeks we stayed at Leamington, he never fucked me less than four times a night, declaring that I had become most perfect in the exercise. + +We then came here, our old friend, Mrs. Roberts, having kindly insisted upon our paying her a long visit Fred has been called away suddenly and will not return for a month. I am sure you will pity me, as you know my temperament is too hot to keep chaste so long. You remember Charlie Roberts; you would consider him a child, but he is not so. One afternoon Fred followed me into my bedroom, as was usual, and gamahuched and fucked me on the edge of the bed. I was about to leave the room after he was gone, when on opening a closet, in which my dresses were hung, who should I discover but this same Charlie. I was in a fix. + +There was no doubt the lad had seen everything. I spoke kindly to him, and he promised secrecy. In order to ensure it, I determined to have his maidenhead. A few days afterwards my husband left me, and the girls with their mamma and the governess went to town with him, leaving Charlie to keep me company. I went upstairs with him to the drawing-room, and seating myself in a low chair, crossed my legs carelessly, exposing them, and letting the garter and part of the bare skin of one thigh be visible. The effect was what I expected. I saw Charlie's eyes fixed on the exposure, he blushed scarlet, and I could distinctly see his cock swell out under his trousers. In a little while I had unbuttoned them, and, oh, Carry, would you imagine it, I found he had the cock of a man. I could scarcely believe my eyes. He is not quite fifteen, and yet he is almost as large as Fred. Here was a godsend, indeed! I drew up my petticoats, and the gallant little fellow instantly fell on his knees, kissed and sucked my cunt. To reward him, I placed him on his back on the couch, and got on the top of him. I took his pego into my mouth, and pressed my cunt against his face, we devoured each other with our luxurious caresses until we both spent copiously. Nothing was lost, we both greedily swallowed all we could get. + +At home he is looked upon as still a child, and I had little difficulty in arranging for him to sleep in a little dressing-room adjoining my bedroom, with which there is a door of communication. He was sent early to bed, but when I came I found him still awake, expecting me, and I had the delicious treat of initiating him into the pleasures of fucking. If you ever wish to enjoy par excellence this pleasure, get hold of a vigorous boy who has never had a woman. My good fortune threw into my hands a wonderfully provided youth, whose aptitude, as well as size and powers, it would be very difficult to match. I had already given him several lessons in the enrapturing art when we fell asleep, and now I must mention a little episode, which it would not do to omit. + +In the morning I was dreaming of Fred, when I became conscious that something was entering me. I was in that half-dreaming state when it is difficult to be quite certain what is happening, but gradually I became aware that although there was no doubt I was being entered, it was not in the usual way. My husband had frequently of late pushed his prick up my bottom-hole, and as he told me that all husbands did so, I could make no objections. I, therefore, at first took it for granted that Fred, finding my naked bottom in his lap, could not resist the temptation of entering it. I, therefore, humoured him, and so moved my bottom as to facilitate his complete entrance, and began to feel myself the excitement it occasioned, but as I became wider awake, I gradually called to mind that Fred had left me, and that Charlie was my bedfellow. The audacity of the young rogue paralysed me, but his delicious movements had become too nice for me to think of dislodging him. He insisted that he was quite unconscious of his mistake, and that he believed himself buried in the delicious grotto of the night before. It probably was so, for so perfect an ignoramus as he is, although ever so apt a scholar in Venus's rites, he could hardly have imagined there could be any entrance in the smaller orifice. I let him go on, and with his well hung cock in my bottom, and two or three fingers in my cunt, he fucked and frigged me most deliciously, until we both spent in an agony of pleasure. If, Carry, you have not tried this route I strongly recommend you to do so without delay, but you must be well fucked in the first instance, to stimulate a desire in those parts, and your lover must be up to the art of frigging you at the same time, or you can pass your hand under your belly, and rub your clitoris, which was the plan I adopted with Charlie, until I taught him the art of rubbing the clitoris properly. As there is always more excitement when this is done by a male, it is better to have them when one can, but, faute de mieux—one can do it oneself with much additional lascivious satisfaction. + +To give you an instance of the precocious aptitude of this dear little fellow, I mounted upon him one morning, keeping my body erect, that we might see the delicious instrument in its action of being engulphed and then withdrawn, a most exciting pose which I recommend you to try, if your husband has not already taught it to you. At last, overcome by the lascivious movements, I sank on his bosom. He pressed my bottom down with one hand, and with the other embracing the nearer buttock, introduced his middle finger up the rosy orifice of my bottom, and frigged me in unison with our ups and downs of fucking, giving me the most delicious additional sensations. + +What do you think of that for a tyro? His discretion, too, is extraordinary. The first night after I sent him to his own bed, he overslept himself. I had not thought of that, and had not looked into his little room before descending to breakfast. His sister was sent to call him. He at once excused himself by saying he had had a bad dream, she came down and told us. In a few minutes he followed, and in the most natural way possible, told a tale of fright, declared he had awoke screaming and afterwards had been so frightened that he could not sleep, and turning to me in the most natural way, hoped his scream had not disturbed me. He never came near me, or appeared in any way attracted by me—a discretion worthy of a man of the world. Oh! my dear Carry, I shall make a great deal of this boy. We have had several delicious nights since, and he improves wonderfully. Splendidly as my husband fucks, Charley already beats him. He is quite as often ready, indeed, oftener, and it is I that hold him back, but there is something still so charmingly infantine in his way of caressing me, and then the lascivious idea he is all my own, and that I initiated him in love's mysteries, adds an inexpressible charm to our lascivious encounters. I feel that I shall almost regret my husband's return, as it will force me to give up this delicious indulgence. Not the slightest shadow of suspicion of our doings is excited in the family, thanks to the very guarded and admirable conduct of Charlie, which is above all praise. + +Write to me soon, my dear Carry, and be sure you are as candid as this long, long letter is to you, for the life of me I could not make it shorter. I only hope you will give me one as long, and have as much delicious intelligence for me. I know you too well to suppose that you have not found means as I have done, to try what other men are made of, although you can scarcely have had such wonderful luck as mine. Write then, and write without reserve. Our mutual affection is too sincere to allow of any concealment whatever between two such loving and lewd lascivious friends. + +Ever your affectionate friend, + +E. BENSON. + + +Such was the long letter my adored mistress wrote at the time to her school companion. It will be seen that their attachment had led to something more than the usual fingerings and caressings of school girls, indeed, had led them on to the lewdest and most lascivious indulgences that two girls could practise in common, and had first excited their passions and given them the delicious power of pleasing coition they were both so perfect in, for, as I before said, about two years after this time, I was the possessor of both and many and many an orgy we three had together, without the shadow of jealousy on any side. It will be seen that Mrs. Egerton, in her reply, even looks forward to the delicious indulgence, which in the end was happily effected and long continued. The following is her reply— + + +THE HON. MRS. EGERTON TO MRS. BENSON. + +How can I ever sufficiently thank my darling Lizzie for her delicious letter, I have devoured its delightful details a dozen times already. I keep it in my bosom, and renew the pleasure of its perusal at every spare moment. Too long? Oh! with such a charming power of description, why did you not cover fifty more pages. Never in my life have I enjoyed such an exquisite description of those dear lascivious encounters. How delighted I am at your good fortune in meeting with such a miracle of a boy as that dear Charlie Roberts. Why, he has every quality of a man, united to the charm of extreme youth. What a splendid man he will become, the very perfection of a lover, and already possessing so lewd and lascivious a lubricity. Oh! how I envy you his possession. What luck for him too, to have fallen into the hands of so delicious a teacher as my beloved Lizzie is. Am I not myself her pupil, and were you not my own delicious instructress in all that one of our sex could teach each the other. + +You will remember a long-standing engagement entered into, between us made, when we were both so lewd and so longing for the real knowledge of man, and how we pledged ourselves that if either got possession of a lover, we should manage after a while to share him between us. Your description of Charlie Roberts has brought this pledge most vividly to my recollection. I am sure my dear Lizzie will not be angry or jealous when I avow that I long to participate with her in the possession of that darling boy; and if my Lizzie is as of old, I feel certain she will rather indulge and cultivate this propensity than otherwise. Think how easy it will be for us both to arrange the meeting of all three together, because I wish to possess him in common, certain that it will increase the lascivious pleasure of coition. No one will suspect us when we drive out, two women with one man. It will naturally be supposed that one fears the other, and so there will be no danger. See, here I am at once anticipating future scenes, but it is all owing to the extremely exciting and lascivious details you have so vividly given me. + +I have no such delicious scenes to depict as those you have so delightfully described to me. My honeymoon passed off in a much more common-place way than yours. Our marriage, which was performed within a day of your own, went off as such events do. My husband was loving, without being very warm. I felt very much as you describe on going to bed the first night, but the discretion or delicacy of my husband, which I could well have pardoned him for dispensing with, left me time not only to get into bed, but kept me waiting there some time. He entered like yours in his dressing-gown, but immediately put out the light and found his way into bed, as best he could. He crept to my side and embraced me tenderly enough, and began to fondle and kiss me, telling me how dearly he loved me, etc., but for some time he avoided any indecent liberties. I suppose he thought it necessary to gain my confidence and quiet any alarm I might be in. He might have saved himself the trouble, for in reality I was longing for and at the same time somewhat dreading an attack on my maiden charms. At last, little by little, he approached the object of delight, and eventually begging me not to be alarmed, he mounted upon me and effected the object of his desires. He did not hurt me much, not nearly as much as I expected, nor so much as you seem to have suffered. I deemed it politic to affect more suffering than he really inflicted. Towards the end I had slight scintillations of pleasure, but not worth mentioning; it is true my husband is not so well-armed as yours and Charlie appear to be, and he is also much colder in his passions; for instance, he did not attempt to fuck me again, although I would have been gratified if he had done so; perhaps it was considerate towards me in his idea, but, merely embracing me in his arms, he talked himself and me to sleep. + +In the morning he again fucked me, this time giving me something like pleasure, but I was altogether disappointed with my night's experience. It was not such as you or I, my dear Lizzie, had pictured to ourselves, in our anticipations of the marriage night. My husband since has never exceeded twice a night, but he has become more exciting, and has generally made me spend twice to his once, first exciting my passions by feeling all my private parts, and frigging my clitoris, so that I generally have lubricated the passage by my own discharge before he attempts to make an entrance. I find he likes this, and so far it pleases me, because only one discharge would leave me in a state of excitement unbearable. He has never attempted any of those lewder and more lascivious methods, of which you have had such delicious experience. Altogether, I cannot but say I am disappointed. My husband is loving, and very anxious that I should improve my mind in every way. You know I was rather more proficient than usual at school in Italian. My husband speaks it fluently, and as we mean to spend a winter at Rome, was anxious that I should have further instruction. He asked me if my school teacher was a good one, but I did not encourage that idea. You may remember our former master was a Count Fortunio, so handsome and so enterprising that you and I had both formed the plan of having him, and had already put over some of the preliminaries when, unfortunately, he was caught with that impudent Miss Peace, with whom, doubtless, he had accomplished everything. Of course, he was instantly changed for another, and we saw no more of him, to the sad disappointment of our then libidinous hopes. My husband proposed advertising for a master, when I had the happy instinct to tell him that schoolmistresses generally applied to Rolandi, of Berner's Street, for language masters, and that, if he would write or call, he would be sure to get every information. That evening, after dinner, as we sat dozing over the fire in the library—very imperfectly lighted—my husband informed me that he had seen Rolandi, who had most strongly recommended a very gentlemanly man, moving in good society, namely, the Count Fortunio. I started in amazement; fortunately, owing to the half-light we were in, my surprise and confusion were unnoticed by my husband. He said that he had been referred to one or two gentlemen of standing as to the Count's character, that he called upon them, and felt satisfied that I could not be in better hands. You may imagine what an effect this information had upon me. All night long I could think of nothing else. What seemed most difficult to me was the hiding from my husband our previous knowledge of each other. I feared the Count would at once recognise me and claim acquaintance, which was what I most wished to avoid; to you, from whom I have no secrets, I may own it immediately occurred to me that this would be an opportunity (for which I had in heart been longing) of obtaining the services of a lover I could trust. How to manage it I knew not, but chance, that favourer of all wrongdoers, stood me in good stead. + +My husband had intended to be present to receive the Count. Fortunately, a letter arrived in the morning requiring his instant attendance in the City about the sale of some stock, of which he was trustee. He begged me to see the Count, and arranged as to hours of attendance, &c., the more frequently the better. I felt my embarrassment was at an end; the next thing was to avoid letting the servants, those domestic spies on our conduct, see the first meeting. There was a small room off our drawing-room that had no door but the opening into the drawing-room; this was fitted up as a sort of boudoir writing-room, and my husband had pointed it out as a convenient place for me to take my lessons in. Here, therefore, I posted myself, and awaited the hour of arrival, to which he was punctual. He was announced and I told the servants to show him in. I sat purposely with my back to the entrance, apparently engaged in writing, as if I did not know he had approached, until I heard the door of the drawing-room shut. I then rose, turned, and smilingly held out my hand. He started with surprise, but immediately and gallantly kissed the hand held out to him. + +"I hope you are not disappointed in finding who is going to be your pupil." + +"Oh, no, certainly not; I did not know you under your married name; but I am so happy to renew an acquaintance which at one time had such charming promise." + +"Stop, signor, I am now married, and it is necessary to be very cautious. I do not wish to deny that I am much pleased to renew acquaintance with you, but it must be with great reserve. Sit down by my side, and be reasonable." + +"Reasonable! and by the side of one whom I so much loved, and from whom I had such hope. Oh! dear Mrs. Egerton, you are surely not going to treat me as a mere master. You would render me miserable if you did so. How can I help admiring one whom I so fondly loved, and with whom I hoped for such happiness long ago." + +Here, having possession of my hand, his other arm was passed round my waist, and he drew me to his lips, and I must own, I reciprocated the ardent kiss he gave me. You remember how handsome he is, and how soft and loving was the expression of his eyes. Well, my dear, to cut matters short, I was so excited that I hardly observed that he had passed his hand up to my petticoats, until I found he had got it on my mount. My passions being excited, and knowing that my husband could not return, and also that he had given strict orders that I was not to be disturbed in my Italian lessons, I gave way unreservedly to the excitement the Count raised. Before I well knew where I was, he was on his knees in front of the low chair on which I was seated. He had thrown up my petticoats, and I felt a long and extremely hard prick rush up my cunt, and begin the most lively action. In fact, he carried me (not unwillingly I must avow) by storm, and made haste to secure the fortress at once, so that I had a very quick fuck, that did not assuage the fire he had raised within me. He has since apologised for his haste, saying that he wished to secure possession of me before I could think of resistance, so as to ensure more facilities of connection hereafter. We had no lesson in language that day, but another bout of love, in which he did his utmost, and with perfect success, to give me the most delicious enjoyment. + +In fact, my dear Lizzie, I may say it was the first fuck that thoroughly realised my, or rather our, anticipations of the act. We arranged the line of conduct necessary to be followed so as neither to compromise me or him either. In a short time we had again a delicious fuck. Seated, with outstretched legs, on a chair, he got me to straddle over him, and sink down on his stiff upstanding prick. I have tried this position kneeling, with my husband on his back; but it does not equal the chair fuck. One has so much better a spring from one's feet than from one's knees, besides, the man is brought more face to face, and there is more facility for mutual embracings; but both ways have their charm. I had repeatedly observed that the Count apparently lost his place, and on recovering it, partially penetrated the smaller orifice, which you so picturesquely describe. I thought it accident, and as it hurt, I always put him back, and joked him on his awkwardness. But after I read your dear delightful letter. I became convinced that he had a wish to penetrate there, without the courage to tell me so. + +I must confess to you, that our stolen embraces at home had become too unsatisfactory, and the Count had arranged for a private house to be at our disposal. Of an afternoon I drove out shopping, called at Swan and Edgar's in Regent Street, leaving the carriage at the door, walked upstairs, made some trifling purchase, paid for and left it until I should call in an hour; then descending by another staircase, left by the Piccadilly entrance, and taking a cab, joined my expectant lover, where he was waiting for me. There stripping perfectly naked, we enjoyed each other most lasciviously, and practised every act of lubricity. When satiated with our efforts, a second cab conducted me to St. James's passage, in Jermyn Street, from whence I gained on foot Swan and Edgar's in Piccadilly, received my parcel, and rejoined my carriage. Thus no suspicions were excited, either in the household or otherwise. + +We have met thrice since your dear delicious letter fired my imagination, and I have seized the occasion to taste the sweets of the neighbouring altar to Venus's legitimate one. After the Count had fucked me twice I turned my back as if wishing it in a way we often enjoyed it, but took care to place my bottom in such a position that the smaller orifice was nearest to his standing prick. Whether he saw my drift I know not, but finding with his finger how conveniently it lay, he plunged boldly forward, and half sheathed himself at the first push. I started with the sudden pain, and should have disengaged myself at once, notwithstanding that I purposely placed myself to receive his prick in my bottom-hole, but with his arms round my waist I was perfectly powerless, and another thrust sent him up to the hilt, but really hurting me most sensitively; I begged him to desist and withdraw, but he said— + +"I will remain quite quiet for a time, and you will see that your pain will diminish, and then you will like it." + +I could not help myself, and sure enough he was right. Shortly I felt no pain; slipping one hand down, he began to frig my clitoris, and in a little time, finding by the involuntary movements of my loins that my passions were excited, he began to move very slightly and slowly. I soon found a strange excitement seize me, which increased to such a degree that I almost fainted, when my nature gave down its divinest essence. We have since repeated the new experience, but I quite agree with you in thinking that we must be well fucked first. + +The Count is a master of his weapon, which, neither quite so long as you describe your husband's nor nearly so thick at the point, is very much so at the root, and as stiff and hard as iron. I assure you, the wild excess of passion he drives me into is indescribable. You shall experience the delight of his fucking, for, with you and me, there must be no difficulty, diversion, nor jealousy. Nay, I shall try to seduce your husband, with a view to cover our delinquencies. I would offer you mine, but, truly, he is not worth having to a woman who can find better, as my dear Lizzie so charmingly does. We have managed matters so prudently that my husband has taken a great fancy to the Count, and he dines frequently at our house. + +We have often talked of you. I told him of your marriage, and of a probability of your eventually settling in London. I marked the sparkle of his eyes at the news, but was silent as to your letter and adventures. It is better we should manage the affair between us when you are here. + +So you see, after all, I have not come off so badly, although, I must say, tamely in comparison with the delicious adventures of my dear and charming Lizzie. I think, when we meet, we shall be able to get up parties of the most delightful kind. I even hope we may induce the Count to join you and Charlie in a partie carrée; what fun and pleasure we should have, and then the delight of exchanging lovers at each bout. Oh! the very idea has set me on fire; fortunately, I am expecting my lover at every moment. I will close my letter with this lascivious picture, and in hopes of some day realizing it with my loved Lizzie, Whose most affectionate and attached friend, + +I shall ever remain, + +CARRY EGERTON. + + +Such were these two charming letters, and I may immediately mention now that the lascivious picture dear Carry drew of a partie carrée—we four the actors—was afterwards realised to the utmost extent of every salacious enjoyment that the most experienced lubricity could suggest. + +The Count and I often sandwiched them between us, which they declared to be the ne plus ultra of pleasure, while the upper operator gamahuched the unoccupied quim. Nay, these giddy delicious creatures were not satisfied until they had induced us to alternate the joys of coition with each other; but that was rarely the case. These enchanting women were so exquisitely seductive that, while we had them at our disposal, we sought no other source of delight. But I am digressing, and talking of events that occurred long after the period which I am more particularly describing. + +The three weeks' absence of Mr. Benson terminated, alas, far too soon; in fact, time flew so quick that it hardly appeared three days when a letter arrived announcing his return for the next day. My heart was ready to burst, but I managed to make no show or mention when Mrs. B. told the news at breakfast Mrs. B. observed that I turned pale, but no one else remarked anything. We contrived to meet for a short time in the middle of the day, and she embraced me tenderly, with tears in her eyes, and looking so loving that my passions became overexcited, and hers too. Notwithstanding the imprudence of the risk, we there and then had a most delightful and salacious fuck; and at night this charming woman allowed me full liberty to do anything I liked; and as often as nature would support us we revelled in a sea of lubricity. How often I cannot say, although my loved mistress declared that I had spent ten times, I am certain she did oftener than that, for neither closed an eye, nor ceased from the most loving embraces. She exerted all the wonderful powers of seduction for which she was so distinguished. Never mortal man could have passed a more intoxicating night of pleasure. We heard movements in the house before we parted with mutual tears coursing down our cheeks. + +It was with difficulty I tore myself from her; indeed, I could not have done so if she had not herself risen, and tenderly embracing me, told me to have courage and hope, for, some how or other, we should manage an occasional interview. Particularly cautioning me to be perfectly on my guard when her husband came, she said it would be better if I kept out of the way until after the first interview was over, as it might he too much for me to see him embrace her. I did as she desired. No one noticed me in the confusion of his arrival. + +Mamma had insisted upon my returning to my bed in her room, as she was sure Mr. Benson would require the dressing-room. Mrs. B., from policy, objected, saying that there was no occasion, that I had been so quiet she had never once been conscious of my being there, &c., but mamma had her own way, and I really believe very much to the satisfaction of Mrs. B. herself; for I doubt, if Mr. B. had been aware of my close proximity, whether he would altogether have liked it. Nevertheless, he so completely treated me as little more than a child that I am quite sure he had no suspicion of my having occupied his place so continuously during his absence. + +Mr. and Mrs. B. retired shortly after his arrival, doubtless to plunge into all the joys of venery after his long absence, and his wife's supposed privation of them. The idea of that being the case did not so much annoy me as I expected; on the contrary, imagination portrayed them in all the agonies of delight, and actually excited me extremely. All at once, the idea struck me that I might be purposely hid in the closet, behold all their delicious encounters, and when he had left his wife to put herself to rights, and the key was turned upon him, I might then in my turn, fly into my enchanting mistress's arms, and revel in all the joys her well moistened and juicy cunt could give. I determined to propose this to dear Mrs. Benson the first moment I could get her apart from all observation. + +I was a little distrait in the school-room that day, but an appeal from Miss Evelyn recalled me to my senses. She asked me what I could be thinking of; I held down my head and blushed. Already an adept in dissimulation, I faltered out that it was of herself and of her endearing caresses the day before, which had made me feel so queer all over. In fact, the previous day she had hugged me rather close to her, and kissed me more lovingly than usual, which really had, at the time, inflamed my desires, and given me great hope of matters coming to a more satisfactory termination with her. She patted my check, and kissed me again, saying I was a naughty boy to have any such thoughts, and I must not indulge in them, or she would not love me any more. But there was a sparkle in her eye, and a flush on her cheek, which showed me she was anything but displeased. + +At our usual break-up at four o'clock, I went to the parlour to see if, by chance, I could get a secret word with Mrs. B., but found that she and her husband had again retired. I knew what that meant; it set me too on fire, and I flew to the garden where my sisters had gone to play. I gave Mary a hint, which she readily understood, and proposed a game of hide and seek. To prevent Eliza interrupting us, I took up a stone, which I furtively dropped again, and proposed that Eliza should guess first, in which hand I had got it, and if she guessed wrong she was to be the seeker. Of course, she guessed wrong. So we bound up her eyes, and she was to stand behind a tree and count one hundred before she attempted to look for or seek us. We made a detour, and as fast as we could run reached the summer house, which, as all the ladies were in the house occupied, I knew to be untenanted. We entered and locked the door, in an instant I had Mary down on her back on the sofa, my head between her thighs, and my tongue in her cunt, and then on her clitoris. She was as eager for it as myself. A week had passed since the happy day of giving up her maidenhead to me. She had thoroughly got over all the pains and inconveniences of that day, and was as ready for a renewal of what could only be joys now as I was. She spent in my mouth almost as soon as I began to gamahuche her clitoris. Waiting an instant to lick up and swallow the soft and delicious young discharge, I rose, pulled out my bursting prick, and engulphed it in her well-moistened sheath with one rapturous shove up to the hilt, positively taking away her breath by the energy of the attack. I was almost as rapid in coming to a conclusion as she had been. Nevertheless, she died away a second time, the moment she felt the warm gush of my raging discharge. We lay some minutes rapt in the lascivious lap of lubricity. But in our young and unbroken energies, nature soon reasserted her power. I must give my sister the palm. It was the internal pressures of the inner folds of her deliciously tight cunt that first awakened my vigour. Somewhat more slowly we began another love encounter, which speedily became much more rapid and energetic, ending as usual in an extasy of delight, and closing with actual cries of intense pleasure. + +It was well we had completed our second course, for we heard the footsteps of Eliza, who, after in vain searching for us near to where we had left her, had at last sought us in the summer house. I had just time to arrange my trousers and unlock the door when she arrived and burst in upon us. She said it was unfair to go so far away, but we only laughed, and proposed that Mary should now seek us. We were standing outside below the mound, tying on the handkerchief, when Miss Evelyn was seen approaching. She came up and noticed the flush still on Mary's cheeks, but we at once told her that we had been playing at hide and seek, and had had a good run, and that it was now Mary's turn to be the seeker. However, Miss Evelyn said she thought we had had enough exercise for the time, and that it would be better to walk gently about to get cool, as it only wanted a few minutes of the hour for renewing our lessons, so we all demurely returned to the house. A reflection struck me that it would be necessary to initiate my sister Eliza in our secrets, and although she might be too young for the complete insertion of my increasingly large cock, I might gamahuche her while fucking Mary, and give her intense pleasure. In this way we could retire without difficulty to spots where we should be quite in safety, and even when such was not the case, we could employ Eliza as a watch, to give us early notice of any one approaching. It will be seen that this idea was afterwards most successfully carried out to the immense increase of my pleasure. + +It was a lovely summer evening. After dinner Mr. B., who, doubtless, had no longer any amorous longing, after having twice retired during the day, challenged Miss Evelyn to a game at chess, of which she was a great proficient. Mamma, Mrs. B., and the two girls stepped out into the flower garden, to enjoy the beauty of the evening. Fortunately mamma fancied she felt chilly, and shortly went back again, taking the two girls with her, and setting Mary down to the piano. I seized the happy moment, and drew Mrs. B. to a seat, far removed beyond the hearing of any listeners, but in sight of the windows. There I unfolded to her the plan I had proposed to myself; she smiled at my precocious ingenuity, but added it would not be safe to leave the closet door open, even partially, as by chance Mr. B. might open it, and that would never do; but she might lock me in—or rather I might do so from the inside. + +"Ahh! but then I want to see it all—it is so exciting to see Mr. B. working into that divine body of yours." + +She laughed heartily at my remark, and said I was a lewd lascivious young rascal—adding: + +"But are you not jealous to see another in possession of me?" + +I admitted that that was my first impression, but on thinking over it, I had become convinced I should like her and enjoy her all the more lasciviously if I were a witness to their love contests, but I must be able to see them. + +"Well! can you not bore a couple of holes an inch and a half apart, below the middle panel and cut a narrow slit from hole to hole? I will take care to place myself in a proper position, and do my best to gratify your premature lubricity. My darling boy, you progress wonderfully, and make me proud of my pupil." + +Seeing she took it thus kindly, I said— + +"Do tell me, my beloved mistress, how often he has fucked you to-day?" + +"Will it please you really, my dear Charlie, to know that?" + +"Oh! yes, so much." + +"Well, then, six times in the morning, and four before dinner. He was bursting with desire, and could not hold. He spent twice before giving me time to come once, but then you know, my dear Charlie, how actively you had been employing your time all the previous night, you sad rogue that you are." + +"Did you enjoy it much, my dear Mrs. B.?" + +"Why, if I must tell you, you little curiosity box, I did; you know how powerfully my husband is hung, and loving him as I do, it is impossible to undergo his powerful and lascivious embraces without feeling all one's libidinous passions stirred up within me, but even while in his possession, my dear boy, I thought of your young charms, and the fierce delights we had enjoyed together last night. My husband little imagined it was of you, not him, that I was thinking and stimulating myself to wild upheavings of voluptuous movements, while he was revelling in all the lubricity of his own passions, and fucking me to my heart's content." + +"Oh! how delicious! my angelic mistress," I cried, "the pleasure of your vivid description almost makes me faint with desire—oh! that I could possess you at once." + +"You must not think of that, my dear darling boy. We must manage it to-morrow; I shall go into the house at once, and occupy your mother's attention, do you get a gimlet and chisel, slip up at once to my bedroom, and prepare a peep-hole for to-morrow; be careful to put it low down, below the projection of the middle panel of the door in which the lock is placed, and take care to remove the pieces of wood you take out. I shall put the key inside of the door. Your sisters always take two hours at the piano after your midday meal, our luncheon is served at the same time. Mr. B. is sure to require my attendance in my room after that, but I shall detain him by some excuse till I observe that you have disappeared, and after giving you sufficient time, we shall follow, and you shall have the extraordinary satisfaction you require; but above all remember—not a movement to betray yourself until my husband leaves and I have locked the door behind him." So saying, she pressed her lovely hand on my stiffly excited member, rose and joined mamma. I lost no time in following her advice, and happily executed all I wanted, and returned unconcernedly to the drawing-room, without my absence having occasioned any remark Next day I got safely to my hiding-room, and had comfortably stowed myself away in such a position that the opening I had made was on a level with my eyes, before they arrived. She, dear creature, anticipating my vista, had merely slipped on a dress, without a corset, and told her husband that he was so insatiate that she was obliged to be ready at a moment's notice to satisfy his inordinate passion, so she had only to take off her gown to be at her ease. "Most admirable, my darling wife, but drop off every thing, and let me contemplate, at my ease, all the beauties of your exquisite body." + +No sooner said than done, and my lovely mistress stood in all the glory of her magnificent and beautiful naked form. He kissed and fondled her from head to foot, laid her on the bed and gamahuched her till she squealed again with pleasure. Then pulling out his magnificent prick, he plunged it into her delicious cunt at a single bound, evidently giving her the most exquisite delight, as was evidenced by the instantaneous clasping of him with her arms and legs, and the rapid wriggling of her backside. They soon ran a first course, but Mr. B. remained engulphed in the closely fitting sheath of his salacious wife. She evidently exerted herself more than usual, both for her own pleasure as well as to give satisfaction to me, for once when she turned her head in my direction I caught her eyes, and she smiled, giving a still more vigorous heave than usual, and showing me all her cunt at full stretch with the noble prick in it. I was ready to burst. At last their bout was over for the present; Mr. B. withdrew his prick, all slimy from its sheath, pendant, but still full of size. + +Most extraordinary! I would have given a good deal to have dared to rush out, put it in my mouth and suck it dry, I can hardly describe how strongly this desire took possession of me. It was the first promptings of a passion I have since often indulged in, where I have met with companions with whom I could join in orgies of both sexes. Mrs. B. professed to be dead beaten by the constant and frequent renewals of these interviews in addition to night work and lay perfectly still, while he performed his ablutions and readjusted, his habiliments. + +"Fasten the door after me." said he, as he ardently pressed her form in his arms and kissed her. She had continued stretched on the bed, exactly facing me, with legs widely extended, so as to show me the whole of her lovely cunt, which I could see still panted under its late excitement. My charming mistress told me it was palpitating not for what had passed, but for what it was waiting for. She rose at last and closed the door, turning the key upon her husband. She then approached the bidet to purify herself, but I bounded from the closet, seized her in my arms, dashed her back on the bed and immediately glued my lips to her glowing and foaming cunt, with all the froth and spending of her husband oozing out. I greedily devoured it, and raised her to such a frenzy of lewdness that she dragged me up and cried, frantically— + +"For God's sake fuck me—fuck me!" + +Of course my cock was bursting to do so; with one shove he was sheathed to the cods; my loved mistress spent with that alone, so highly was she excited, not only by the preparations, but as she herself acknowledged to me, by the idea of the instantaneous infidelity to her husband, at the moment after he had just fucked her—such is the wild imagination of women when they give way to every libidinous thought. It would have been exactly the same if some equally fortunate lover had been awaiting my retiring from the field. The idea of success in deception is a passion with them, and they would almost sacrifice any thing to obtain it. Before I could arrive at the grand crisis, she was again ready, and we died away in an agony of blissful lubricity—she held me, as usual, so tight that I never thought of withdrawing from the folds of her delicious cunt, but lay still enjoying the never ceasing compressions of its velvety folds, which sometimes really had almost the force of a vice. I was rapidly ready for a second bout, which, like the first, ended in extatic joys, beyond the power of description. My charming mistress thought I ought now to desist, but pleading my forty hours' fast (for, of course, she knew nothing of my fucking Mary), I begged her to allow me to run one more course. + +"Then, my darling Charlie, you must let me turn on my side, for I am so heated with your weight and my husband's that I must have some relief, but there is no occasion for you to withdraw, leave me to manage it." + +With an art quite her own, she accomplished her object, her splendid buttocks' pressing before my eyes against my belly fired me immediately. My cock swelled and stood firm as ever. Then passing an arm round her body, I used my fingers on her excited and stiffly projecting clitoris. We had a much longer and more voluptuous fuck than before; nothing could exceed the delicious movements of my divine mistress; she twisted her body so, that I could suck one of her bubbies, while I fucked and frigged her; she spent with such a scream of delight that I am sure she must have been heard in the house, had it not been for the inner baize door to the room. She continued throbbing so deliciously on my prick that I began to flatter myself I should obtain a fourth favour, but she suddenly bolted out of my arms and out of bed. Turning round, and taking my whole prick into her mouth, and giving it a voluptuous suck, she said— + +"No, my loved boy, we must be prudent if we mean to have a repetition of these most exquisite interviews. You have given me most extatic pleasure, and by moderation, and running no risk in too long indulgence of our passions, we may safely manage to enjoy similar interviews every day. Get into the dressing-room, remain there until I leave my room and pass your door. After I have seen that no one is near, I will cough twice, wait a minute longer, then quietly leave and descend by the back stairs." + +All was happily effected, and for the week longer they remained with us, I found means to repeat the charming lesson every day, without raising suspicion in any one's mind. + +At last this admirable woman departed. It was with difficulty I could bear the scene, but I gulphed down my feelings as best I could. She had become a universal favourite, and all regretted her leaving, so that my distress was not noticed in the general regret. It was more than two years before fortune favoured me in again meeting with this charming woman. And then we saw very much of each other, both alone and with other congenial spirits, of which, perhaps, I may hereafter write a detail; but at present I have got events to relate that followed fast on her departure. + +I have said that Miss Evelyn had been gradually growing more familiar in her manner of partially caressing me. She drew me closer to her, almost invariably placing her arm round my waist, frequently kissing and pressing me against her firm and well-formed bosom. This had frequently an evident effect on my lower person, even while I was kept less excitable by the constant relief my passions were obtaining in the arms of my adored Mrs. B. Now I no longer had that vent, for the little relief I could get at rare intervals from my sister Mary was as nothing, after the constant exercise I had been provided with for a whole month. Ever since I had practised that little deception on Miss Evelyn by attributing to her embraces the evident distraction I was in on the day of Mr. Benson's return, she had increased her pressures of my person, and could not but feel my stiff prick throbbing against her thigh, while she closely pressed my body against it with her arm. I often noted the increased sparkle of her eyes and changes of colour on her face when she kissed me, and I put up my hand and caressed her cheek. At times she would push me suddenly away, and beg me to resume my seat; frequently she would quit the room in an agitated manner, till this led me to suppose that an internal conflict was going on, and that passion urged one course, reason another. Remembering the sage advice given to me by my loved and beautiful mistress, Mrs. B., I resolved to play the part of an innocent ignoramus, and let her own passions develope and produce the result I so longed for. I doubt if I could have held out but for the relief I found in dear Mary's embraces, who, each time we could manage to meet, became more and more attractive, and more capable of giving and receiving pleasure. We had some difficulty in keeping Eliza blind to our doings. At last Mary agreed to initiate her into gamahuching, and to tell her I did so to her when we shut ourselves up together, and that if she would keep the secret, I would do the same to her; but that it was necessary that one should keep watch while the other amused herself with me, for fear Miss Evelyn should chance to come. Mary proceeded to gamahuche her, which delighted Eliza beyond measure; indeed, although a year and a half younger, she speedily showed a developement of passion superior to Mary. At first I only gamahuched her, letting her play with my prick as I did so, but not attempting to instruct her in the art of insertion into her charming little quim, which already showed symptoms of a hairy growth on her well-formed and very prominent mount. When I had done enough in this way, Mary, who had previously been fucked by me, returned, and Eliza took up the watch, while I appeased in Mary's deliciously tight cunt the thirst that gamahuching Eliza had raised. + +It was thus I could more coolly await the gradual approximation that Miss Evelyn's evident passion for me was bringing about. That she struggled against it was evident, but passion was gaining the advantage, as was shown by her nervous tremblings and sudden clutches, drawing me up to her parched lips, and sometimes pushing me away with a shudder that shook her frame and paled her lovely cheeks. I fancied that nature had been too much for her on these occasions, and that in reality the sudden clutching was the approach of love's crisis, and that when she shuddered, and suddenly repulsed me, she was discharging. It was evident this could not continue. At last the happy day for which I so longed arrived. Mamma was going to go to the town, and taking my two sisters with her, to get something or other for them. She invited Miss Evelyn to accompany her, but the latter declined, on the excuse of an alleged headache. In truth, the violent nature of the conflict going on between her passions and her prudence had visibly affected her health; she had become pale and anxious-looking, and my mother was somewhat uneasy about her. She told her not to occupy herself too much with my lessons that day, and only give me work for an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon, and begged her to take a quiet stroll in the garden, and rest as much as possible. + +On leaving us, she cautioned me to be as gentle and obedient as possible, as Miss Evelyn was poorly and out of spirits. Mamma and the girls departed. Miss Evelyn, almost as pale as death, and quite visibly trembling, falteringly begged me to go to our school-room and study the lesson she had given me the previous evening, saying she would join me shortly. I went, but no lesson could I do that day. The evident agitation and apparent illness of Miss Evelyn distressed if not alarmed me; I was still too inexperienced in her mind. It was a phase of woman's nature which I had as yet no knowledge of. I had merely a vague kind of idea that it all tended to the ultimate gratification of my libidinous hopes, and I only held off to a certain extent in obedience to the counsel my loved Mrs. Benson had so wisely impressed upon me, and was waiting in lively, hopes of the result I so ardently wished for. + +At last Miss Evelyn joined me, her eyes were swollen and red as if she had been weeping; my own filled with tears when I saw her, and I approached, hesitatingly, and said— + +"Oh, my dear governess, I am so grieved to see you look so poorly. Oh, do nothing to-day, and I promise to work twice as hard to-morrow." + +At the moment I really felt quite distressed at the sad expression of her features. For an instant she smiled languidly, then, by some compulsion of feeling, she seized me in both arms and drawing me to her bosom, covered me with kisses; her eyes became almost perfectly brilliant. + +"Oh, you dear, dear, darling boy, I love you beyond expression. Kiss, oh, kiss me! my darling! and comfort me, because I love you all too well." + +Then, again, there was a change, she seemed to fear she had said too much, and turned away her head and tears started to her eyes, but her arms did not relax the embrace in which she held me. I was deeply moved at her evident agitation. I thought she was really ill, and suffering greatly; so I threw my arms round her neck, kissing her tenderly, and weeping myself, tried to comfort her in my inexperienced way, sobbing out— + +"Oh, dear, dear Miss Evelyn, do be comforted, I so dearly love you that it makes my heart bleed to see you so unhappy. Oh, let me see you smile, and do try not to cry so. Why are you so unhappy and low spirited? Oh, that I could do anything to make you happy?" And redoubling my endearments, she again turned her lovely face to me. Again there was the unnatural fire in her eyes, and a hectic glow flushed her cheek. + +"You darling angel of a boy; it is you that makes me so unhappy." + +I started back in surprise. + +"I make you unhappy! Oh! Miss Evelyn, how can that be, when I adore the very ground you stand on, and love (sobbing)—love (sob)—love you more than anything in the world." + +She seized my head in her two lands, glued her lips to mine, gave me a long, long kiss of love; then, pressing me to her bosom— + +"Oh, say that again, my loved, my darling boy; it is the love I feel for you that is breaking my heart, but I can resist it no longer. Will my Charlie love his Evelyn always as he does now?" + +"Oh, how could I do otherwise? I have worshipped you from the first moment of your arrival, and have had no other idea. What can I do to prove it—try, oh, try me. I have never breathed a syllable of my love for you, even to yourself, let alone other people." + +Her eyes, sparkling with passion, were searching the depths of mine, as if to fathom my thoughts. I, too, began to feel my amorous passions excited by her warm embraces and kisses. She held me tight to her body, and could not help feeling the hard substance that jutted out against her. + +"I believe you, my Charlie, and will trust you with my life—with more, with my honour! I can no longer resist my fate. But, oh! Charlie, love me always, for I run a fearful risk in loving you as I do." + +She again drew me to her lips, my hands clasped her neck in a close embrace. Her hands wandered—pressed upon my throbbing prick. With trembling and hasty fingers she unbuttoned, or rather tore open, my trousers, and her soft fingers clasped my naked instrument. + +"Oh, I shall die, dear Miss Evelyn; what must I do to make you happy?" + +My apparent ignorance could not but please her. She sank back on the long low chair on which she was seated, apparently accidentally drawing up her petticoats with her hand in falling back. I threw myself on my knees, and pushing her petticoats further up disclosed the rich, dark, curly beauty of her mount. She covered her burning face with her hand, while, pressing my head forward, I began pressing her beauteous cunt, sucking it without daring to lick her clitoris. She tried to push me away—"No! no! I must not." + +But I suppose my proceedings fired her passions still more, for she was quite moist and juicy, and I have no doubt had already had one discharge while embracing me so warmly. She suddenly said— + +"Come then, my loved boy, and I will be all in all to you." + +Drawing me up—nothing loath—I was soon extended on her belly, with my stiff-standing cock pressing against her cunt. I had still the prudence not to show any knowledge of the act. I sighed deeply— + +"Oh! my loved Miss Evelyn, do help me, I know not what to do." + +Her hand glided down between us, she guided my glowing instrument between the longing lips of her delicious cunt. I pushed, and buried the head and two inches of its body at the first thrust. The second brought it against an unexpected obstacle, for it never had struck me that Miss Evelyn was a virgin. I pushed hard at it. + +"Oh, Charlie, love, be gentle, you are hurting me very much." + +Knowing that the best way would be to excite her by short shoves, without at first trying to go further, I did so, and she began to feel all the raging desires that so formidable a prick as mine must excite, when moving between the soft velvety folds of her tight and juicy quim. I held myself in, and continued my proceedings until the convulsive movements of her loins, and the increased pressure of the folds of her cunt, showed me that the crisis was approaching, and she was about to spend. She hugged me close in her arms, and at the moment of spending involuntarily heaved up her bottom. This was the very moment I was with difficulty waiting for. I retired a little and plunged forward with irresistible force. I burst my way through every barrier, up to the very roots of my prick. The attack was as painful as unexpected. Miss Evelyn gave a shriek of agony and swooned away. I at once improved the opportunity, and thrusting in and out with the utmost vigour, broke down every obstacle, and enlarged the opening by side movements as much as possible, while she was insensible to the pain. I then died away myself in an agony of delight. I lay soaking within the delicious sheath until her convulsive shudders and short sobs showed that my now fully deflowered mistress was recovering her senses. The thought of the unexpected victory I had won had already begun to make my cock stand again, although it was still comparatively soft. I could feel an involuntary pressure on it, as she came to a full consciousness of our position. She threw her arms round my neck, gave me a most impassioned kiss, and then sobbed and cried as if her heart would break. + +It is a curious idiosyncracy of my nature to be most libidinously excited by a woman's tears, and although I really suffered to see her in such grief, it stiffened my prick to its utmost dimensions. I tried to comfort her with words, but she sobbed, sobbed on. I suddenly thought that a renewal of action might bring about a revulsion of feeling, and began vigorous movements. She sighed deeply, but I could tell by the nervous twitchings of her loins that her passions were being excited. They soon decided the contest. She threw her arms round my waist, and pressed me to her, devouring my mouth with her kisses. Nature prompted her movements, and in a very few minutes we both poured down a plenteous offering on Venus's altar. She shook and trembled as she felt the warm gush within her, and squeezed me with all her might to her bosom. We lay in a trance for some ten minutes, my charming governess fainting with love, and giving my delighted prick the most luscious pressure, which speedily fired him to new efforts. Miss Evelyn herself was most amorously excited, and we again dashed on love's delicious path—to end, as usual, in the death-like swoon of satiated passion. When we came to our senses, my loved mistress, embracing me tenderly, and throwing her eyes up to heaven, said— + +"Oh, my dear darling boy, you made me suffer horribly at first, but I have been in heaven since. Oh, how I love and adore you. But we must rise, my Charlie, we may be discovered. We have, in fact, run great risk, as the door has not been fastened." + +I rose, and withdrew my prick from her reeking quim, which seemed by its close pressure to let me go with regret. I found it was all bloody. + +"Stop, Charles, let me wipe it with my handkerchief, lest it stain your shirt." + +She did so, and folding it up and placing it in her bosom, said— + +"I shall keep this precious relic as a memorial of the sacrifice I have made to you, my loved boy. Ah! Charlie, you cannot yet understand the value of that sacrifice and the risk of ruin I have run for your sake. I love you as I never loved anyone before, or can ever love again. My honour and happiness are now in your hands, and it is on your discretion they rest. Be careful never to exhibit any liberty of conduct towards me or to mention to anyone what has occurred." + +It may readily be imagined I gave her every assurance on that head, and told her I loved her too dearly, and was too grateful for the extatic happiness she had taught me how to enjoy, for any chance of betrayal to take place through my indiscretion. She embraced me tenderly, told me to go straight to the garden, that she must seek some repose after all that had happened, and we should meet again at midday meal. + +I did as desired, full of sweet thoughts at the exquisite delights she had afforded me, and already longing for the afternoon school hour to renew the enrapturing union of our souls and bodies. Miss Evelyn did not come down to her luncheon, but had something sent up to her room. However, she joined me in the school-room at two o'clock, as usual. She was very pale, but embraced me tenderly, and was very endearing. Of course, I immediately became excited, and very enterprising, but she gently repulsed me, and requested that I would leave her quiet that day, as she felt not only exhausted, but in pain, and would be all the better for perfect repose. I begged hard to be allowed some slight favours, if not all, but she was inexorable. Finding that I could neither do any lessons nor be quiet, she said— + +"Then we must go into the garden, I think the fresh air and a gentle walk will do me good." + +It instantly occurred to me that if I could draw her away to the summer house, I should have a better chance of succeeding in again enjoying her delicious embraces. Accordingly, when she went up to her room to put on her bonnet and shawl, I possessed myself of the key, to be prepared for my chance of success. + +We walked about the flower garden for a time, Miss Evelyn taking my arm, and most lovingly conversing with me. She walked somewhat stiffly. We sat down for a rest, shortly she felt the heat of the sun too great, so I proposed a walk in the shaded shrubbery. I kept prattling on, so as not to let her see how far I was leading her away, she appeared surprised that we had got so far, when we came in sight of the summer house. + +"Oh! Charlie, my dear, I am afraid it will fatigue me too much to walk all the way back without rest and we have not the key." + +"Sometimes it is left in the door, I will run and see." Off I bounded, slipped the key in the lock, and ran back to say it was there, she followed me in, and sank on the long backless sofa, which had already served me so often. I begged her to extend herself at length. I placed pillows for her head, and drew a chair for myself near her. She did not appear to have any suspicion of any act on my part, but lay down on her side. She took my hand in hers, and we began a conversation, very interesting, in as much as it was how we should regulate our conduct, so as not to raise any suspicion of our amorous connection, and also of how we should manage to meet from time to time. + +"You, dear boy," she said, "I cannot now live without the comfort of your embraces, but you must remember, in my dependent position, discovery would be my ruin. I rely on your silence and discretion, and if I am as dear to you as you, my adored Charlie, are to me, I may safely trust to you." I threw my arms round her neck, and told her I loved her all too dearly, and longed too much to return to her endearing and delicious embraces, for her to have any fear of my committing either her or myself. She fondly embraced and kissed me. I became fired with passion. My hand wandered, her position only enabled her to make a feeble resistance, I reached her beauteously covered mount, she murmured supplications to be left alone, and held her thighs close together. + +She was not aware of my knowledge of the parts, so inserting my finger into the upper part of the lips, I reached her clitoris, and began rubbing in and out, purposely, in an awkward way, but taking care to hit the right point. + +"Charlie, my Charlie, you must not do that—I—I cannot bear it." + +At the same time she threw her arm round my neck and drew me to her lips, which glued themselves to mine. I felt her thighs yield and open. I immediately improved the occasion, and began frigging her with my middle finger up her quim. Her passions became inflamed. + +"Come then, my darling boy, to my arms, I cannot resist you longer." + +In an instant I was unbuttoned and had my trousers down, and was between her legs almost before she had concluded her sentence. The excitement of my caresses had moistened her juicy cunt, and the head of my prick entered without any difficulty. In my ardour I was about to rush on with a vigorous shove, when she implored me to be more gentle, as she still smarted from our morning encounter. Moderating my movements, and gently insinuating my stiff instrument, I gradually made my way up to its utmost limits, and hardly occasioned even a grimace of pain. Here I stopped, leaving it sheathed up to the root, and making it throb from instant to instant. Then seeking my loved Miss Evelyn's mouth, our lips and tongues met. Her arms round my waist became tighter in their embrace. The delicious folds of her luscious juicy quim began to throb and press on my excited member. Allowing her to become thoroughly excited, I waited until she actually quite unexpectedly yielded down her nature, and spent profusely, to the exquisite pleasure of my saturated organ. I still held all off, to give her time after the delight of that spend, which was probably the first of unalloyed extatic pleasure she enjoyed; for as I was an inactive participator, there was nothing to cause any action on the still raw edges of her broken maidenhead. Her internal pressures were most exquisite. Our embraces with tongues and lips were like the billing and cooing of doves, and very rapidly brought her again to a raging point of desire. I then began with slow and gentle movements, drawing my prick slowly nearly all the way out, and then as slowly driving it up to the hilt. Her previous very copious discharge had so oiled the delicious folds of her cunt, that no pain was felt, only the intense pleasure. At last it became overpowering; her arms were thrown round my waist, and her legs were involuntary cast over my hips. Nature prompted her to the most delicious movements of her bottom; she met my forward thrusts, and responded to them in the most libidinous manner. + +"Go on, go on, dear Charlie—faster!—faster!" + +I wanted no spur. Fast and furious grew our movements, until at last, with a mutual cry of delight, we sank in each other's arms in the blissful extasy of the most complete enjoyment. It was several minutes before we regained our senses, and both our organs of generation were pulsating, the one within the other, in all the luxury of satiated passion. With her beauteous legs still thrown over mine, she moved her arms to my neck, kissed me voluptuously, and mingled the sweetest accents of gratification with the most endearing caresses and flatteries. I lay, as it were, in the paphian bower of bliss, in a state of exquisite sensations quite impossible to describe. It seemed even a greater pleasure than the more active state of delight we had been to. I could have lain so for hours, but for that excitable prick of mine, whose sensibilities were far too rapidly set in motion by the luscious pressures of that most delightful cunt in which it lay engulphed. It had gradually resumed its pristine firmness, and was now at full stand, throbbing impatiently for further combats. I began to move. Miss Evelyn said— + +"Oh, my Charlie, you must cease, my dear boy; we must not only be prudent, but consider your youth and health. Do, oh! do! my dear boy. Oh!—pray cease." + +Her words were cut short by the increasing passion that the vigorous movements of my prick occasioned to her whole system. She could resist no longer, but with arms and legs closely embracing me, and devouring me with kisses, she threw herself into the fight, and with body and soul so seconded me that we died away in screams of delight, and sank quite insensible in each other's arms. + +It was many minutes before we recovered speech. I still lay entirely embedded in her most exquisite cunt, and would have liked to have continued in her delicious embrace. But Miss Evelyn so imploringly beseeched me to cease for this time, and pointed out how necessary prudency was, if we ever wished to meet again, that I felt compelled to raise myself from her body. But, in doing so, I slid off downwards, and before she could prevent me, I glued my lips to the open pouters below me, and greedily devoured all her delicious discharge, and did not desist until I had so licked her clitoris as to make her spend most copiously again. At first she had tried to resist, saying— + +"Charlie, what on earth are you at? You must not, my dear boy, it is dreadful." + +But, as I roused her passions, her hand, instead of trying to draw away my head, held it firm and pushed it well against her throbbing and delicious quim, her thighs closed against the sides of my head, and she almost swooned away with the extasy of her discharge. I greedily swallowed it and rising completely, took her in my arms, and placing her on her bottom, sweetly kissed her. + +"Oh, what a charming creature you are, my beloved Miss Evelyn, I adore you from the sole of your feet to the crown of your bead." + +"But you, my beloved Charlie, have more than justified my imprudence. You have given me a joy which I could never have dreamt of. I am yours, body and soul; do with me as you like. I, too, adore the very ground you tread on." + +We continued exchanging the sweetest vows of affection, until, seeing my prick rising to its usual stiffness, she said— + +"Oh, my darling, you must put this away; it would be most imprudent to continue any longer. Now, let me button it up." + +First stooping and kissing it, she put it into my trousers with some difficulty, buttoned me up, and we strolled towards the house. + +Our conversation turned on our chance of fresh encounters. She begged I would not think of attempting anything of the kind next day, and she would try and arrange for the day after, although my sisters were terribly in the way. + +I suggested she should keep me in as when she flogged me, nay, indeed, she should flog me in reality if she liked. + +She laughed at my idea, but said something might be done in that way as a blind. So I said— + +"I will neglect my lesson on purpose to furnish an excuse." + +"We shall see—we shall see. Meanwhile, remember to be very prudent." + +We reached the house; she retired to her room until mamma returned. Very kind inquiries were made, she said she had suffered severely from headache, but, on the whole, felt better and hoped that a good night's rest would put her all to rights. We all retired early, both mamma and the girls were tired with their drive and shopping. I had resumed my bed in the little dressing-room, and went to sleep with thoughts of my delicious day's doings, to dream of re-enacting them with every amorous excess that the utmost lubricity could suggest. + +The next day Miss Evelyn began to resume her former looks—the struggle was at an end. She was very gentle in her manner, and seemed even more affectionate than usual to my sisters, who, fancying she was not very well, were attentive, rather trying to anticipate her wishes than following them. + +There was rather a greater appearance of reserve than previously in her manner to me, but when I went up to her to repeat my lessons, there was a warmer clasping of my waist and a suppressed manner that showed she was restraining her desire to press me to her bosom. Her face slightly flushed, and she turned her beautiful eyes upon me with such an endearing expression of affection that I could have thrown myself into her arms but for the check upon my ardour which her own reserve imposed upon me. + +Nothing more took place between us that day. At our usual hour of recreation, from four till five, Miss Evelyn retired to her room to repose after the efforts of restraint that she had put upon herself all day, and left us to ourselves. I need not say an immediate resort to the summer house followed. There, first deliciously fucking Mary, and then gamahuching Eliza, with the addition of gently introducing, at the same time, a finger a short distance up her quim, I finished off with another voluptuous fuck with Mary. I thus was enabled to bear the bridle Miss Evelyn put upon the indulgence of my appetite in her person, and was apparently more reasonable than in reality. She again, on the second day, failed to give me the opportunity I so longed for. Thinking she might hesitate, from fear of discovery, and the fact of having no apparently reasonable excuse of being alone with me, I determined to play the idler next day in the afternoon. On being called up, I had done nothing. Miss Evelyn looked grave, but blushed deeply at the same time. + +"What do you mean, Charlie, by this idleness? Go, do your lesson, or I shall be obliged to punish you." + +She took me by the arm, and gently pressed it as she told me to resume my seat. At four o'clock, of course, my lesson was as far as before from being done. + +"Mary and Eliza, you can go into the garden. Charles will remain until he finishes his lesson, or is punished for his idleness." + +They left and Miss Evelyn locked the door after them. Then we flew into each other's arms, and indulged in the most endearing caresses for a very few seconds. I had been in a state of most violent erection for some time, so that my hand was up her petticoats immediately. I gently pushed her back on her low long easy chair, and kneeling in front, first thrust my head between her thighs, and taking a glance at her beautifully haired cunt, already all moist and juicy, showing that she was as ready as myself, I gamahuched her until she spent in my mouth, and sucked the delicious liquid most greedily. There was something peculiarly sweet in her spend, and my tongue sought the innermost lining of her delicious quim as far as its limited length would admit, that I might not lose a drop of her exquisite nectar, worthy of the gods. The excitement I occasioned her was almost too much for her to bear, she drew me up, saying— + +"Oh! Charlie, my angel of a boy, come, oh, come to my arms." I raised myself up, threw myself into her arms, and in a moment I was engulphed up to the cods in her exquisite and throbbing cunt; she closed upon me with arms and legs, we were both too violently excited to pause for any of the more voluptuous movements of less violent desires, but rushed on in passion's wildest extasy, both far too eager to think of any restraint, and with the utmost vigour on both our parts, we ran our first course with great rapidity. My adored Miss Evelyn had quite got over every feeling of pain, and could not but be delighted with the heat and vigour of my attack. We both died away together, at the extatic moment pouring down a mutual flood of spunk to cool the inflamed members that had the instant before been in such tumultuous action. Darling Miss Evelyn hugged me close to her bosom, and threw her beautiful eyes, screaming with passion, up to the ceiling, as if to thank heaven for the joys she had felt. Our lips then met and glued themselves together in one long, long kiss of love, which quickly lighted up our lust; she was as eager as myself, and we had another vigorous encounter, ending in all the agonies of delight, as before. Then after a longer interval of the most endearing caresses and fond accents of murmured love, we ran our third course, with more abandon—lengthening out our exquisite sensations, by slower and quicker movements and pauses between—in which my beautiful governess began to develope an art in which she shortly became even superior to the more experienced Mrs. Benson, who had so charmingly initiated me into love's mysteries. + +There was a peculiar charming and endearing softness in the manner of Miss Evelyn most winning and most exquisitely attractive. It was evidenced even in her mode of handling my prick; without grasping it, her hand appeared to pass over it hardly touching it, but in so exciting a manner that after any number of encounters, she could raise it by her fairy touch in a moment. Our third encounter lasted quite half an hour, and we sank in the death-like luxury of discharge, our whole souls seemed to exude with the exquisite distillation of our seed. We had long before regained our senses. I was still engulphed in her delicious cunt, but she begged me to relieve her of my weight. We rose, she shook her petticoats down, and assisted me to arrange my trousers. I then sat down and took her on my knee. Our lips met in a mutual warm kiss of gratified passion. She thanked me for the joys of paradise I had given her—and for my discretion in procuring an excuse for our meeting. She acknowledged that she had been as impatient as myself, but was obliged to take every precaution against raising the slightest suspicion in the house. + +"You must always remember, my darling boy, that for me discovery would be my ruin for ever. I risk every thing to possess you, my beloved boy, I would care little for discovery, if it would not also separate us for ever. That idea, my adored Charlie, is insupportable, I can no longer exist without you." Here she threw her arms round my neck, and burst into tears. + +I have already described the effect of tears on my unruly member, which, while I was consoling and vowing eternal attachment to my loved mistress, burst from its bonds and stood out in all its glory. I took her soft and beautiful little hand, and laid it on it. She grasped it tightly, and looking at it, while smiling through her tears, said— + +"My Charlie, what a great big thing it is. I wonder how it could ever get into me, without killing me." + +"You shall soon see that," said I, and changing places, I laid her down, lifted her petticoats and was into her in a moment. She begged me to proceed slowly, and to lengthen out our pleasures as much as possible. We had a most glorious and truly delicious fuck; my lovely and charming mistress giving me most extatic pleasure by the exquisite pressures of the internal folds of her delicious and lascivious cunt. + +We lay enraptured for long after we had spent, and then resumed our sitting position, and arranged every thing in order, as the time for the return of my sisters from their hour of recreation was close at hand. + +Our conversation naturally turned upon how we should arrange for our next meeting. Miss Evelyn insisted that we must not think of meeting more than once in three or four days, as otherwise we might raise suspicions fatal to our meeting at all. However reasonable this was, I raised an outcry against such a tantalizing delay, and begged hard for a shorter period between our intervals. + +"It cannot be my darling boy, remember discovery would separate us for ever. By prudence, we may long continue these delicious meetings." I suddenly suggested that as I slept alone in the little room, which, when the spare room was unoccupied, was far away from every one, she might steal along at night, when all were asleep, and thus I could enjoy the whole of her exquisite charms, without hindrance. She did not reply, but I could see her eye sparkled, and her cheek flushed as if already in imagination she was revelling untrammelled in all the luxury of voluptuousness such a plan opened out. However, she did not at once accept, but kissing me fondly, called me her dear and ingenious boy, and said she would think over my suggestion. We resumed our lessons on my sisters' return. Miss Evelyn was again four days before she gave me another opportunity of an amorous meeting. It was only my purposed insubordination that obtained me this interview. We again indulged in all the luxuries of carnal enjoyment, as far as could be done, incommoded as we both were by dress and locality. Reverting more strongly than ever to my plan of meeting in my lonely room, I begged so hard that at last she promised to come the night of the following day. I was obliged to put up with this, although I would fain have had her come that very night, but as her passions were evidently gaining stronger possession of her, and she was becoming more loving, and more voluptuous than ever, I felt certain she would not disappoint me on the next night. The delicious idea of revelling in charms I had so often furtively gazed on, kept me away from my sisters next day. Under a plea of headache I went early to bed, and took up some oil, to oil the hinges and lock of the door, to be prepared for my loved mistress. I lay long awake, and was almost in despair of her coming, when I heard the clock strike twelve. All at once I became aware she was at my bedside. She had entered the room with so gentle a step that though on the watch for her, I did not hear her even when she opened the door, shut, and locked it. She had come in her dark-grey cloak, and when at my bedside this was dropped on the floor, she stood in nothing but a very fine and thin chemise. She flung herself in my arms, as I rose to embrace her, and we instantly sank closely clasped in each other's arms. I was far too sharply set to practise any preliminaries. I turned her on her back, and was into her in a moment, with one vigorous thrust, which almost took away her breath, and gave her intense delight. I was too quick for her, however, as I spent in two or three shoves into that delight-giving cunt. But as this hardly allayed the fires of my too ardent desires, the convulsive internal movements of her unsatisfied orbit quickly restored my scarcely reduced member to a renewed vigour. Miss Evelyn being greatly excited by the unsatisfying nature of my first bout, was extremely warm, and throwing her arms and legs around my body, we again rushed headlong into all the fury of fucking, and as my previous spendings had somewhat reduced the power of immediate discharge, I was able to suit my movements exactly to those of my most active companion, and we sank together in all the voluptuousness of satisfied desires, lying long locked in each other's arms, before we were again in a state to renew our combats in love's delicious domain. We spent the interval in whispered vows and fond endearments and embracings of each other's naked charms, both of us admiringly passing our hands over every part of our bodies. + +Miss Evelyn at last concentrated all her attention on my well-developed member, which she most endearingly embraced and fondled tenderly, very quickly putting him into an ungovernable state of erection. I was lying on my back, and she partially raised herself to kiss my formidable weapon; so gently putting her upon me, I told her it was her turn to do the work. She laughed, but at once mounted upon me, and bringing her delicious cunt right over my prick, and guiding it to the entrance of love's grotto, she gently sank down upon it and engulphed it until the two hairs pressed against each other. A few slow up and down movements followed, when becoming too libidinous for such temporizing delays, she sank on my belly, and began to show most wonderful activity of loins and bottom. I seconded her to the utmost, and finding she was so excited, I slipped my hand round behind and introduced my middle finger in the rosy and very tight orifice of her glorious backside. I continued to move in and out in unison with her up and down heavings. It seemed to spur her on to more vigorous actions, and in the midst of short gaspings and suppressed sighs, she sank almost senseless on my bosom, I, too, had quickened my action, and shot into her gaping womb a torrent of boiling sperm. + +We lay entranced in the raptures of satiated desire for a long time. At last she came to her senses, and fondly kissing me, turned off, and we lay side by side closely embraced. + +"Oh! my beloved Charlie, what exquisite delight you have given me; you are the most delicious and loving creature that ever could be created. You kill me with pleasure, but what was that you were doing to my bottom? What put such an idea into your head?" + +"I don't know," I replied. "I put my arm round to feel the beautiful globes of your bottom, and found in grasping one that my finger was against a hole, all wet with our previous encounters, and pressing it, found that my finger slipped in; you gave it such a delicious pressure when in that the idea entered into my head that, as it resembled the delicious pressure your enchanting other orifice gives my shaft when embracing you, this orifice would like a similar movement to that which my shaft exercised in your quim. So I did so, and it seemed to add to your excitement, if I may judge by the extraordinary convulsive pressures you gave my finger when you died away in all the agony of our final rapture. Tell me, my beloved Miss Evelyn, did it add to your pleasure as much as I fancied?" + +"Well, my darling Charlie, I must own it did, very much to my surprise; it seemed to make the final pleasure almost too exciting to bear, and I can only account it a happy accident leading to an increase to pleasure I already thought beyond the power of nature to surpass. Naughty boy, I feel your great instrument at full stretch again, but you must moderate yourself, my darling, we have done enough for to-night No, no, no! I am not going to let him in again." + +Passing her hand down, she turned away its head from the charming entrance of her cunt, and began handling and feeling it in apparent admiration of its length, thickness, and stiffness. Her gentle touch did anything but allay the passion that was rising to fever heat; so sucking one of her bubbies, while I pressed her to me with one arm under her, and embracing her on the other side, I passed my hand between our moist and warm bodies, reached her charming clitoris, already stiff with the excitement of handling my prick. My titillations soon decided her passions, and gently prompting her with the arm under her body, I turned her once more on the top of me. She murmured an objection, but offered no resistance; on the contrary, she herself guided my throbbing and eager prick into the voluptuous sheath that was longing to engulph it. Our movements this time were less hurried and more voluptuous. For some time she kept her body upright, rising and falling from her knees. I put my finger to her clitoris, and added to the extatic pleasure she was so salaciously enjoying. She soon found she must come to more rapid and vigorous movements, and lying down on my belly embraced and kissed me. Toying with our tongues I put an arm round her waist, and held her tight, while her glorious buttocks and most supple loins kept up the most delicious thrust and pressures on my thoroughly engulphed weapon. I again stimulated her to the highest pitch of excited desires by introducing my finger behind, and we both came to the grand crisis in a tumultuous state of enraptured agony, unable to do ought, but from moment to moment convulsively throb in and on our engulphed members. We must have lain thus languidly, and deliciously enjoying all the raptures of the most complete and voluptuous gratification of our passions, for fully thirty minutes before we recovered complete consciousness. Miss Evelyn was first to remember where she was. She sprang up, embraced me tenderly, and said she must leave me at once, she was afraid she had already stayed imprudently long. In fact, it was near five o'clock in the morning. I rose from the bed to fling my arms round her lovely body, to fondle and embrace her exquisite bubbies. With difficulty she tore herself from my arms. I accompanied her to the door, and with a mutual and loving kiss we parted. I to return and rapidly sink into the sweetest slumber after such a delicious night of most voluptuous fucking. + +She came again three times in the next six nights; each time we renewed our mutual joys, with ever increasing voluptuous indulgencies. On coming to me for the fifth time, she said— + +"Dear Charlie, I have only come to kiss you, and say I cannot stop." + +"Cannot stop!" I cried, "and why not, beloved Miss Evelyn?" + +"I am not well, but cannot explain more." + +I had sprung out of bed, and clasped her in my arms, then passing a hand down to her beauteous and well-covered mons Veneris, I found that she was tied up there in cloth. I immediately remembered how my loved Mrs. Benson had been exactly in the same way. I then also remarked the peculiar odour of breath, but pretending ignorance, I begged to know what had happened to my darling little grotto. + +"I cannot tell you more, my dear boy, but it will keep me away from you for four or five nights." + +"But why should that be the case; cannot you let me enter that delicious cave of delight only once?" + +"No, no, impossible! my dear Charlie, absolutely impossible! It would do me very great harm, and you too. Let us be quiet in that way, and I shall be the sooner well again to come and embrace you as before." + +"Oh! but darling, how can I support five nights' absence, I shall go mad with desire and burst—feel how he grows, and is longing for his loved companion." + +Her soft and gentle hand caressed it. I thought to succeed by a coup de main, but she was too quick for me. + +"No, Charles, I am serious, and you must not try to force me, or I shall never come near you again." + +I saw she was in earnest, and flung myself on the bed in a pet. + +"Come, my darling Charlie, be reasonable, and I will do my best to give you some satisfaction. Lay yourself on your back—so. I will kneel on the floor at right angles to you, because you must not attempt to touch me down there. That is a dear boy." + +So taking my prick in her soft hand, she gently moved it up and down; then, suddenly stopping, took it into her mouth, sucking as much as she could get in, and titillating the knob with her tongue, while one hand frigged at the root of my prick and the other gently handled my two crisped-up cods. She prolonged the pleasure by occasional pauses, and at last, on finding the electric-like sensations coming, she hastened her movement, and I poured a torrent of sperm into her mouth. She continued her delicious sucking until not a drop more was left for her to swallow. This was the first time she ever gamahuched me, but it was not the last by scores of times. Ever after we improved upon the model, and added other endearments. When not under her courses, we mutually gamahuched each other, and she was the first to repeat upon me, with the intensest gratification, the delicious introduction of a finger behind while gamahuching me. At present, when she had thus taken the edge off my carnal appetite, she lovingly embraced me, and left me to my lovely slumbers. Of course, the four days' grace, saving two more passing visits "to keep me cool," as she said, turned all to the advantage of my sisters, whom I fucked and frigged to their utmost gratification and delight. + +I thus passed about four months. Miss Evelyn becoming a perfect adept in love's delicious mysteries; but, although I had attempted to enjoy the orifice of the lower temple of Venus, my member was too large, and gave too much pain, to completely succeed, so that I became the faithful worshipper at the more legitimate altar of love. My sisters were gradually developing their forms. Mary particularly so. The hair on her quim had increased to a most charming curling profusion. Her hips spread out, and her bottom, hard and prominent, promised to be very large. Eliza, too, began to show increased bubbies, and an enlarged and mossy mons Veneris. + +We were approaching summer, and near the full of the moon, Mary had complained of feeling very low spirited, and very much inclined to cry. I tried to comfort her, and thought success would best attend my efforts if I fucked her. So enticing her down into the garden, we entered the summer house, and I at once proceeded to action. She was rather unwilling, she could not say why, but had an instinctive reluctance. She yielded, however, to my entreaties, and I fucked her without apparently exciting her in the usual way. I consequently withdrew as soon as I had run the first course, and at once discovered what ailed poor Mary. My member was covered with blood. For the first time her courses had come upon her. She was greatly alarmed, but I told her I had beard it was quite natural to young women when they reached a certain age, that she had better tell mamma at once, who would instruct her what to do. I carefully wiped my reddened member, and then retired to my room to purify myself. That very night, on Miss Evelyn coming to me, I found she was exactly in the same state. She gave me my usual relief with her soft hand and caressing lips, and then left me for five nights, as at that time. + +I now found myself reduced to my dear little sister Eliza. Up to this time I had never actually fucked her, and her maidenhead was still intact. She was now approaching fourteen, and the down on her charming little cunt was becoming more decided; her bubbies too, under the erotic excitement of my attouchements and gamahuching, had assumed a decided prominence. My finger had somewhat rendered the opening of her little pinky slit more easy of access. So I resolved to complete her carnal education and fuck her thoroughly. The opportunity was perfect; both Miss Evelyn and Mary retired to their rooms to lie down at our usual hour's recreation, Eliza and I at once hied to the summer house, and locked ourselves in. I immediately laid her down on the long couch, and gamahuched her until she spent in my mouth, and then continued until she was again almost mad with desire. I then told her I should initiate her into a new mystery, more delicious than any she had yet experienced, but that the first initiation was always painful. + +"Oh! what is it, my dear Charlie, everything you do is so nice, I know I shall like it—what is it?" + +"Then you must know, dear Eliza, that this little cunt of yours is made for the express purpose of having a prick put into it; only, as mine is so large, and you are still so small and so young, I was afraid it would give you too much pain to do it sooner; but now, I think, I may get it in, if I do it gently." + +"Oh, Charlie, dear, put it in at once, I have often felt I should like it so; but, as you never attempted to do it, I thought it was a mere fancy of mine. Have you ever put it inside Mary's quim?" + +"Often; nay, always, my darling." + +"Does she like it?" + +"She adores it." + +"Then put it into me directly, Charlie." + +I wanted nothing better, and told her that in order to thoroughly enjoy it, she must strip. In a minute she dropped off everything, while I took off my trousers—coat and waistcoat having been already laid aside. I had brought a towel to lay on the couch below her bottom, to prevent any telltale stains. Laying her down on her back, with her bottom close to the end, her legs gathered up, and her two feet resting on the sofa, with her knees falling outwards (in the very best position for my intended operation), I put a pillow on the floor, on which I knelt, thus bringing my cock a little above her quim to give me a good purchase. I then first gamahuched her well again, until she spent and cried out— + +"Oh, put it in, my dear Charlie, I do feel to want it so!" + +She was already well moistened by her previous discharges, and by my licking the lips of her cunt, and covering them with saliva, with which I also, at the same time, wetted my prick itself. I then made the point approach the charming pouting and longing lips of her sweet little cunt, and rubbing it first up and down between the lips, proceeded to insert its knob between them. Thanks to the precautions taken, and the excitement I had raised by my previous caresses with tongue and prick, the immediate entrance was effected with greater ease than might have been expected. No sooner was it in about an inch beyond the knob than the passion of excitement I had raised so stimulated the natural lubricity of Eliza's nature that she heaved up her buttocks energetically, letting her knees drop quite down sideways, thus favouring to the utmost my forward thrust made at the moment, so that my prick was sheathed in an instant more than half his length, and but for the obstacle of her maidenhead, which he then met with, would have been entirely engulphed. As it was, it gave her a very sharp pang of pain, which made her shrink back, and utter an— + +"Oh! Charlie!" + +"Do not fear, I will be gentle, keep still a moment and then you will find the pain pass away, and great pleasure follow." + +So we lay still for a time, until I felt those involuntary internal pressures, the true precursors and infallible indicators of rising desires; so commencing a slow and continuous in and out movement, I shortly produced such an excess of pleasure in her delicious orbit, that her movements became almost furious, and nature alone prompted her to second me with as much art as if she had already been long instructed in the delicious movements so calculated to add to the libidinous delights of true enjoyment. + +But Eliza was a rare example of a truly salacious and voluptuous nature, and proved herself in that way far in advance of Mary; although she was of a very warm temperament, Eliza's passions were far more excitable, and in the end she became one of the most voluptuous fuckers possible, abandoning herself to all the wildest raptures that the most erotic nature could suggest. Of this, hereafter; at present I had worked her up to the utmost pitch of excited desire; she was in the very act of discharging, and as I withdrew for a final thrust, she heaved up her buttocks in an agony of pleasure, I felt it was now or never, and striking home with all my force, I burst with irresistible strength through every obstacle, and tore my way inwards, until sheathed to my very cods. Poor Eliza! at the very moment she thought herself in the seventh heaven of delight, she experienced the most excruciating agony. She gave a piercing cry and fainted away; her arms fell senseless from my body—her legs would have also fallen, but twining my arms round them, I continued for several successive thrusts to penetrate fully and easily into every recess, for I myself was wound up to a fearful state of excitement. I died away in an excess of joy, sending a torrent of balmy sperm to soften and mitigate the pain of her terribly torn quim. Finding that Eliza could not regain consciousness, I rose somewhat in alarm, and was horrified to see the quantity of blood that followed my withdrawal. It was fortunate my forethought of the towel, as it had not only saved the sofa, but helped to stanch her swollen and bleeding quim, and to wipe the blood from her thighs and bottom. I had effected all this before the dear girl showed the least symptoms of animation. She first sighed, then shivered, and at last opened her eyes, and looked confusedly at me, and asked— + +"What has happened to me, Charlie?" + +Then observing how she was lying naked, she recovered her complete consciousness of all the circumstances of the case. + +"Oh! Charlie, now I know; I thought you had killed me; Charlie, oh! it was so frightfully painful. How could you hurt me so, and just as I thought it was the most heavenly pleasure I had ever experienced in all my life." + +"My darling, it is all over now, and it will never hurt again, and we shall both of us have greater pleasure than ever, but not just now; it has been greater pain to you than I thought it would be, and for the present we must not attempt any more." I helped her to rise, but she felt very faint, and I had great difficulty in getting her dressed. She was shocked to see the bloody state of the towel. I told her to put my handkerchief between her thighs, and partly up her slit, to prevent any marks of blood staining her shift. I then laid her down on the sofa, while I ran to get some water from the fountain in the garden. I took a glass and the towel with me. I returned with the water, which greatly refreshed Eliza. I begged her to lie still as long as she could stay. However, when she attempted to walk, she found herself very much incommoded with the smarting pain. I was terribly afraid lest this would be observed when we got to the house, so I suggested she should purposely fall down when in sight of any one, and say she could not move because she had hurt her knee by the fall. + +This stratagem succeeded admirably. We were seen approaching by Miss Evelyn, my mother, and Mary. Dear Eliza acted her part admirably, was seen to fall heavily, and screamed. They all rushed out, we lifted her carefully on her legs, and supported her to the house, she complaining of the pain in the knee and ankle. My mother insisted on her going to bed at once, and having embrocations and hot towels applied. Eliza let them do as they liked, and eventually was left to quiet repose, which soon relieved the painful sensations she had undergone. Next day she complained of great stiffness, and walked lame, but thought the hot applications had prevented the swelling, so thus happily passed off all observations of suspicion of the real circumstances of the case. It was not until the third day after that I attempted to make an entrance. Of course, I excited her first to the utmost by a long continued gamahuching. She then let me, but with fear and trembling, introduce my bursting member into the delicate folds of her cunt. As I was very gentle in my movements, the pain was scarcely felt, and when once well sheathed, and the first thrusts given slowly and luxuriously, the whole lubricity of her nature was soon awakened, and by the time I was ready to spend she was as ready to second me, and we died away in a mutual flood of delighted extasy. She held me close, and would not let me withdraw. + +"No, Charlie, it took some trouble to get it in, let it stop where it is so deliciously engulphed," and at once anticipating her natural desires, she began the most exquisite pressures upon me, which very shortly brought us both up to the point of demanding more active measures. However, I rather restrained her, and told her we must retard our movements to increase our pleasures, because mere quick repetitions would only exhaust her, without yielding the true extasies of enjoyment. I, therefore, taught her the pleasures of the slow movements, and I worked her up to spending point, without giving way myself. The dear little creature clung to me with the most close and endearing embraces, as if she should force a complete amalgamation of our two bodies, and died away in the sweetest bliss of contented desire, with such a heavenly expression of extasy on her face as made me devour it with kisses. I had great difficulty in restraining myself from precipitately following her example; her delicious movements at the moment of spending, and the close pressures on my prick, were so exciting that resisting them was quite a triumph of control. I succeeded, and lay quite quiet, embalmed in the delicious suction of those exquisite folds of her charming little cunt, which exercised the most delightful pressures as well as suction on my enraptured prick. I left it entirely to her to lie as we were as long as she pleased, or to again begin the dear delightful friction that should once more make us dash on passion's furious course, to end as usual in the ever delicious extasies of the final crisis. + +This last bout had been a double one for my sister; she all but swooned away with the rapture my spending in unison with her produced. She declared it was a death of the most delicious extasy, which it was perfectly impossible to describe. She clung to me, kissing me in the most endearing manner, and telling me how happy I had at last made her by completing the insertion of my prick in her cunt. It was worth the suffering of twenty times as much agony to arrive at so exquisite a result as every fuck I now gave her conferred upon her. We adjourned to the flower garden, that we might be seen playing together, and not excite suspicion by our constant disappearance, now that we were only two together. Of course, Mary knew what we were at and probably guessed that I had completed the initiation of Eliza. She smiled, and gave me a significant pressure of the hand, when we met again in the school-room to resume our lessons. For two days more I enjoyed Eliza all to myself; at each new fuck she became more and more perfect in conferring as well as receiving pleasure. + +On the third day, Miss Evelyn whispered, "to-night," as she gave me a stolen pressure of the hand. She came, and we indulged in every whim of our fancy. I had further the delicious pleasure of gazing on all her naked beauties, as it was daylight before we parted; I had gamahuched her twice, and fucked her five times. She gave me credit for a long fast, and allowed so much indulgence on that account, but told me I must in future be more moderate, for her sake, if not for my own. She allowed three nights to pass before again coming to me. I cannot say I regretted it, because now that Eliza as initiated, as well as Mary, we indulged in the most delightful orgies of fucking and gamahuching at the same time. At first we used to fuck with one laid on her back to be fucked, while the other backed on her knees over the face of the one being fucked, and was gamahuched by her, while I introduced my finger into the rosy orifice of the bottom before me. But we found the most voluptuous way was for one to lie down on her back, and the other on hands and knees over her. She thus brought her mouth over the cunt of the one lying down, and presented her bottom to me, who knelt behind her. The one below guided my prick into the cunt above her face; she had thus all the satisfaction of seeing our action, while with one hand she tickled my cods, and the other felt my bottom-hole, and inserted a finger. Meanwhile, she was gamahuched and bottom-frigged at the same time by the one I was fucking, and we used all three to die away in agonies of enraptured delight, to recommence with a change of places between the two girls. Sometimes I tried to introduce my prick into the rosy little orifice of Mary's backside, but, although the finger-frigging gave her much additional pleasure while her cunt was operated upon by my virile member, she as yet could not support the insertion of my large prick. I had not even attempted little Lizzie, but one day, when Miss Evelyn and Mary were again under menstruation, and I had dear Lizzie all to myself, she was seized with such an irresistible desire to ease herself, that she had only time to get behind a bush and squat down. I remained waiting for her, when she called to me, to ask if I had any paper. I advanced to give her some. She was in a half-standing position, with her clothes held up to her waist. While giving her the paper, my eyes accidentally fell upon what she had voided. I was struck with its extraordinary thickness. I made no observation at the time, but it raised an idea that preoccupied me much. I had often thought over the pleasure that fucking Mrs. Benson's bum-hole had given me, hence I had tried to initiate both Miss Evelyn and Mary in that delightful route of pleasure, but, as before stated, had been unable to succeed with them from the great developement of my weapon. Thinking that if they could not bear the insertion, there could be no possibility of success with my younger and less developed sister, I had never attempted with Lizzie more than the insertion of one finger. It is true, with her it seemed to produce more excitement than either upon Miss Evelyn or Mary. The sight of the extraordinary dimensions of the matter she had voided now suggested the idea that if her apparently very small and rosy-lipped bottom-hole could allow so large a mass to come out, with gentle efforts my scarcely larger machine might be inserted. I determined to try the initiation into that route of delight the very next day. Remembering that dear Mrs. Benson always made it a rule that she should be first well fucked and gamahuched, and the prick well moistened, I began by exciting dear Lizzie to the utmost. I first fucked her, and made her spend twice to my once; then gamahuched her until she implored me to shove my prick into her. I had managed to introduce my two forefingers at once into her bottom, and had frigged her while sucking her cunt, without apparently giving any pain; on the contrary, from her movements I fancied she felt greater excitement. I took care to enlarge, as much as possible, or rather to stretch her bottom-hole as open as I could with two fingers. It was at the moment of her greatest excitement, when she was pressing me to fuck her at once, that I said— + +"My dearest sister, there is still another mystery of sensual voluptuousness that you have as yet not experienced or been initiated into, and I am about to instruct you in it." + +"Oh, what is it? dear Charlie; but do anything you like, and as quick as possible." + +"Well, then dear, it is this sweet little orifice in your bottom that I am going to introduce my prick into. It may give you some little pain the first time, but by gentleness of movement, and halting from time to time when it hurts too much, we shall get him completely inserted, and then it will be an immense pleasure to both of us." + +"Dear, dear Charlie, do as you like, your darling prick can only give me the greatest delight; I am dying to have him into me, I don't care where, as long as I get the dear creature into me. I suppose I must be on my hands and knees." + +Upon which she turned with great agility, and presented the two hard and already promising globes of her charming backside. I lost no time in first thrusting my prick up to the hilt in her cunt, to moisten it. It made her shudder again with excess of lust, and she exercised such a pressure upon it that I had some difficulty in withdrawing it. It was so snug and nice therein that was a great temptation to run a course in her cunt at once, but having the other object in view, and knowing that I wanted all its stiffness to succeed, I did summon up courage enough to withdraw; then applying the very plenteous saliva in my mouth that gamahuching her had stimulated, I added it to the already moistened prick, and applying some to her bum-hole, and introducing a well-wetted finger, I put the knob of my formidable prick to the small and smiling orifice that lay before me. The disproportion struck me as so great that I dreaded success would be much too painful for her, but remembering the dimensions of what had come out of it, I boldly proceeded with the operation. I got in over the knob without making her flinch, but, as I proceded to push gently forward, and had got in about two inches, she cried— + +"Stop a little, Charlie, it feels so queer—I can't bear it in further." + +I stopped where I was, but slipping a hand under her, I applied my finger to her clitoris, holding her bottom tight against me with the other hand round her waist, so as not to lose ground. My agile finger soon worked her passions up, and I felt her bottom give convulsive twitches on my prick. I allowed her to become still more excited, and then gently pushing forward found I was slowly, and almost imperceptibly, gaining ground. My prick was then inserted almost two-thirds of its length, when, thrusting rather too sharply, she again cried out, and, but for the arm that held her fast round the waist, would have unseated me. + +"Oh, Charlie, dear, do stop; it seems to choke me, and makes me feel so queer, that I thought I was going to faint." + +"I shall lie quite still, now dear Lizzie. It is quite in"—this was a little bit of deception to calm her fears—"and when the pain of insertion passes, which will be the case in a minute, we shall have nothing but pleasure." + +So I kept my prick just where he was, but redoubled my frigging her clitoris, and very soon brought her up to spending point, resolved that I would not attempt complete insertion until I felt she was in the raptures of sensual discharge. This quickly came upon her, and it was the delicious movement of her own buttocks that sheathed my prick to the hilt without an effort on my part, and so far from giving her pain, made her positively scream with the intense voluptuousness of her sensation in spending. She could not speak for many minutes, but continued the exquisite pressures of the sphincter muscle on my enraptured prick. But for my determination not to give way, and rather to wait for another bout that would completely initiate dear Lizzie in all the luxury and abandon of this delicious mode, I must have at once vigorously finished my own course. My restraint was well rewarded. The first words my beloved sister uttered were those of almost delirious joy at the extraordinary delight I had given her. Never, never, had any fuck so enraptured her. She turned up her lovely face to me, and tears of sensuality and voluptuousness filled her eyes. + +I had hardly begun my titillations on her still excited clitoris, which, by the way, had lately considerably developed itself, when she was as eager for another bout as I was. I held sufficient restraint on myself to practice every salacious movement, that I might give Lizzie such exquisite pleasure as should induce her on future occasions to grant me the use of her charming bottom-hole whenever I should desire. I worked her up to the utmost pitch of the most salacious excitement, and at the moment when she spent, in an agony of shrieking extasy, I poured a perfect flood of spunk right up into her entrails, and we both sank forward, but without unseating me, quite overpowered by the intensity of our delight. When we came to our senses I rose from off her. On withdrawing my prick I found a few traces of blood, but of no moment. I wiped my prick on a handkerchief, and also wiped between the cheeks of dear Lizzie's bottom, for fear any tell-tale marks should be made on her linen. I then helped her up, and she threw her arms round my neck, and sweetly kissing me, thanked me for a new lesson in love, which had overwhelmed her with delight. + +Thus ended the first lesson that Lizzie ever received by that route of pleasure, and I may incidentally state that she was peculiarly constituted for giving and receiving the most exquisite pleasure in that way. She afterwards developed into a magnificent woman, with one of the naturally largest and finest backsides I almost ever met with; and she came to love backward fucking to the utmost extent. In after-days, when married, she told me that her husband was a muff, who had no idea of enjoying a woman but in one way. She had often deceived him, and slipped it into her bottom-hole without his ever having any suspicion of the sort of pleasure he had given her. + +Three months passed with the rapidity of a dream, while we indulged in these scenes of delicious lubricity and voluptuousness, without ever attracting any observation within the house and, more curious, without Miss Evelyn either discovering or suspecting anything between my sisters and myself—thanks to my natural powers and the unfailing resources of youth. Both she and my sisters thought they each gave me as much as I could get through, and, therefore, neither ever imagined I could seek carnal delights in other arms. So it was but now there happened one or two events which had a considerable effect on the after-tenour of our loves. + +A neighbour, a very nice good-looking man, about thirty-five years of age, a gentleman farmer, very well off, had for some time past always waited for us at the church door on Sundays, apparently for a chat with mamma, Miss Evelyn, and us. He treated and evidently considered us as mere children, nor did he appear to fix particular attention to any one. + +One Monday my mother received a note from him, to beg she would grant him a short interview on the following day, as he wished for her advice on a subject of much interest to him. Mamma's reply begged him to come at eleven o'clock, when she would be happy to see him. + +He came, and was particularly neatly dressed. My mother had been very agitated all the morning, and looked flushed and nervous as the hour drew near; I really believe the old lady fancied it was for an idle avowal to herself that he was coming. Be that however as it may, the object of his visit turned out to be a proposal to Miss Evelyn, with an offer of marriage. He was ready to make such settlements upon her as could not but be satisfactory. He told my mother that before speaking to Miss Evelyn, whom he had loved from her first appearance in the parish, and whose quiet, modest character had daily made a deeper impression, he thought it only his duty to first break the subject to her, and to ask her permission for an interview with Miss Evelyn, and next, if he was acceptable to her, for leave to visit at our house, while courting his wished-for wife. He further stated that he had never ventured to hint the state of his feelings to Miss Evelyn, and prayed my mother to be the kind intermediary in opening the subject to her, and to beg as a favour that she would grant him an interview to state his case in person on the following day, so that he might learn his fate from her own lips. My mother, although probably inwardly a little disappointed, had the interest of Miss Evelyn too much at heart not to take up the matter warmly, and urged, with all the volubility elderly ladies can so well exercise, whenever the marriage of a younger friend is in question, all the benefit that would accrue to her from so advantageous a proposal. Miss Evelyn was really taken quite by surprise, and stammered out some vague expressions of wishing for time to consider. + +"Stuff and nonsense, my dear, remember your dependent position, and the advantages this match holds out to you. You must not think or talk of delay. He will be here to-morrow, and I hope his lover eloquence will soon decide the question in his favour." + +Poor Miss Evelyn burst into tears and said it was so sudden, and she was so ill-prepared to take any decision. She would, however, think over it very seriously and in the morning be better able to give an answer. My mother seeing that she was much agitated by what she had told her, very kindly said— + +"Give the children a holiday this afternoon, and I advise you to keep your own room, and write to your widowed mother, to tell her of the offer, and to ask her advice how you should act." + +We thus had many hours to ourselves; I had heard all that had passed, and felt a sad pressure at my heart, when I began to realise the fact that the proposal of Mr. Vincent would, if accepted, lead to our separation, and deprive me of my loved Miss Evelyn. The idea made me very sad, and I showed no alacrity in taking advantage of our extra hours of recreation with my sisters, until Mary began to rally me about my melancholy, and asked what I meant by it. I at once said— + +"Don't you see, if Miss Evelyn marries Mr. Vincent we shall get another governess, and can we ever expect to get one who is so kind and excellent a teacher, and who troubles us so little at our games." + +"Ah! that is very true, and we should be horribly annoyed if we were watched and interrupted. However, more reason that we should make the most of the present moment, so come along, Charlie, and let us have some real good fucking. We have plenty of time, mamma is not very well. No one will come near us, and there is nothing to hinder our having a jolly time of it, all three stark naked together, so come along." + +Her words had already changed the current of my ideas; before she ceased speaking my prick responded, which her quick eye immediately observed, and patting it with her hand, she said— + +"Ah! my dear little dummy, I am glad to see you are of my opinion, so come along." + +Away we went, and a most glorious afternoon of orgies we spent. + +Miss Evelyn came to me at night and threw herself into my arms, in an agony of sobs and tears, and pressing me to her throbbing bosom, she sobbed out— + +"Oh! my dear Charlie, I love you so dearly, you have become as necessary to me as life itself. I cannot bear the thought of parting from you, my loved one. You, whom I have initiated into all the delights of mutual love. Oh! the thought of parting is bitter, and breaks my heart. Oh! love me, my own darling boy, and press me to your heart." + +I did more, for, as I have before stated, a woman's tears have a never failing effect on the erective nerves of my machine. It was but the commencement of a night of most luxurious enjoyment. Miss Evelyn put no restraint either on herself or me, but indulged in every act of lubricity and voluptuousness were drawing to a close. In fact, when eventually she left me in the morning, and I thought over all she had said, it became evident to me that she had already made up her mind to accept the very advantageous offer made to her. The instinctive intelligence of woman had at once shown to her that such an opportunity was not to be lost for the sake of a mere boy, whom circumstances must naturally soon remove far away from her. At the same time, doubtless, the idea that I was all her own making, for she never had any suspicion of my previous initiation, held a charm over her, to say nothing of the powerful weapon she had so unexpectedly found by her side, and which had so great an influence over her passions. We spent a most luxurious night, and hardly closed our eyes, notwithstanding my afternoon's debauch; such is the power and resources of nature, in a well-constituted youth of fifteen and upwards, that Miss Evelyn had rather to force our embraces, than to stimulate by any artificial excitement my ever ready prick. I won from her a promise to come next night, and let me know what fate was in store for us. + +Next day Mr. Vincent was true to his appointment. Mamma received him with Miss Evelyn by her side, and after the usual compliments, rose and apologised for leaving them, as she had household duties to attend to. Miss Evelyn informed me afterwards that Mr. Vincent, on my mother leaving the room, rose from his seat, and approaching her, said, in the most frank gentlemanly manner— + +"You are aware, my dear Miss Evelyn, of the object of my visit, and I augur from your kind condescension in giving me this interview that my suit is not disagreeable to you." + +Then taking her passive hand, and pressing it to his heart, he continued— + +"I have loved you, Miss Evelyn, from the first moment of my seeing you. I feel that my future happiness hangs on your lips, for without your love, my life would now be a blank. I am here to-day to offer you my hand and fortune. If I have not yet your heart, I seek to be allowed to cultivate your society, that I may try to win it." + +Then seeing that she was greatly agitated, he begged her to be seated (for she had risen when he approached and took her hand), he led her to a sofa, and seated himself by her side. He pressed for an answer. She said— + +"You must be fully aware, Mr. Vincent, that your generous offer has taken me greatly by surprise. I feel most grateful to you for it, but must implore you to allow me to pause, until at least I have heard from my mother, to whom I will communicate the noble offer you have made to me, a poor governess, who cannot but feel grateful to you for condescending to think of her in such a way." + +"Ah! say not so, my dear Miss Evelyn, and believe me, it is no sudden impulse that has driven me to your feet, but ardent love, and real admiration of your great beauty and admirable conduct ever since you entered this family." + +The dear creature smiled through her tears upon me when she recounted those terms of affection that Mr. Vincent poured out to her. + +To be brief—before they parted he won from her that his frequent meetings at church, and elsewhere, had gained him something more than esteem, but hopeless of ever becoming his wife, she had done her utmost to suppress wanner feelings. Oh! woman, thy name is deception! So she sent him away the happiest man in existence. He rode over every day afterwards, and was with Miss Evelyn from four to five; indeed, he was often the cause of our having half an hour's longer recreation. He also frequently dined with us. Miss Evelyn's mother naturally jumped at the offer, and most delightedly gave her consent. + +When Mr. Vincent heard of this, be became very urgent in claiming an early day for making him the happiest of men. Miss Evelyn wanted a delay of six weeks, but this raised such an outcry on his part, seconded by my mother, that at last she was driven from six weeks to a month, and then to a fortnight from that date; so all became extremely busy in getting ready marriage dresses, &c. The marriage was to take place from our house, and my mother insisted that she should provide the marriage breakfast. Mrs. Evelyn was invited to our house for a week at the time of the marriage, to keep my mother company. My two sisters and a young sister of Mr. Vincent's were to be the bridesmaids, and a young man, courting Miss Vincent, to be bridegroom's man. So all was thus arranged, and eventually came off most happily. When Mrs. Evelyn arrived she occupied the spare room, where charming Mrs. Benson had so deliciously initiated me in all the pleasures of sensuality and passion. + +To return to the day when Mr. Vincent had his first interview, and declared his love and admiration, and ended with the offer of marriage. Before going away, he rang for mamma, thanked her for all her kindness to him, informed her how happy Miss Evelyn had made him in granting permission to prosecute his suit for her hand, &c. Then begging the favour of a chaste kiss, he left all radiant with hope. + +The interview had naturally been very trying tor Miss Evelyn, and she was so evidently nervously agitated that my mother begged her to go to her room, and lie down to repose herself, as after so much agitation she must be quite unfit for any school work, and that she herself would hear our lessons that morning and give us an afternoon's holiday in honour of the happy event that had occurred. + +We thus, my sisters and I, were thrown again into another prolonged opportunity of fully enjoying ourselves, but, notwithstanding the wonderfully regenerative power that nature had gifted me with, I felt that if I wanted to enjoy again my dear Miss Evelyn, who had promised to be with me that night. I must not only restrain myself from such excess as we had indulged in the previous day, but also manage to get some sleep, of which I had scarcely tasted the night before, so I contented myself with first gamahuching and then fucking each sister; afterwards again gamahuching them, and making them each spend five times, so as to satisfy them without exhausting myself, and then finishing off with a delicious fuck in Lizzie's bottom-hole, while each gamahuched the other. This quite satisfied them, and they allowed me to steal up to my room to sleep, Mary promising to call me in time for tea. I slept the sleep of the just for some three hours, and came to tea perfectly ready for anything that could happen that night. It was well it was so, for now that there could not be any long lapse of time before we must part, Miss Evelyn became a very glutton for pleasure, and every art and position was made use of to stimulate and lengthen out our joys. She came every night, even up to the very night before the marriage, although in the last three nights before the event came off, her mother, Mrs. Evelyn, slept in the spare bedroom with which my room communicated. Nevertheless, we met and carried on our amorous sports with bated breath and suppressed sighs. + +We had of late often tried in our moments of greatest excitement to introduce my prick into her delicious tight little bottom-hole. Once, by a sudden manoeuvre, I managed to get in at the moment she was spending, and actually made an entrance as far as about two inches beyond the nut, and I think I should have fully succeeded at that time if my own excitement had not made me spend too soon. This oiled the way, and my prick, having already fucked several times, becoming too limp, the squeeze of her bottom actually forced him out, as if she were voiding herself naturally. I fancied that, at the moment, but for my too excited passion, she would have rather I had completely initiated her. However, the night preceding her marriage, I at last succeeded. We had fucked in every varied way. She was on her knees, with her head on the pillow, and I on my knees, behind her; this was a favourite way of hers, as she declared I got further in, nay, seemed to touch her heart and fill her whole body; besides the frigging her clitoris and the action of my finger in her bottom-hole added greatly to the raptures this position gave her. She had been already well fucked, and we had mutually gamahuched each other, so her whole system was in a most excited and well-moistened state. Taking care to put two fingers at once into her bottom-hole, I worked them so as to stretch it as much as possible, while exciting her with my prick in her cunt, and a finger on her clitoris. Just as she was going into the raptures of spending I dropped from my mouth a quantity of saliva onto her bottom-hole, and as she was pushing her buttocks back to me I suddenly withdrew my prick, and with one vigorous thrust housed him half his length in her delicious bum-hole. She almost cried out aloud at the suddenness of the attack, and would have flinched away but for the grasp of both my hands upon her hips; a more vigorous shove sent me up to the hilt against her beautiful buttocks. She whispered— + +"For heaven's sake, dear Charles, do stop a moment, I can't bear it, and must cry out if you do not be quiet for a time at least." + +As I was safely fixed, it exactly suited me to remain still, for had I gone on, a push or two would have made me spend. Now fairly engulphed, I wished not only to fully enjoy it myself but, if possible, make her enjoy it too. So remaining quite still, as far as regarded my prick, I stole one hand down to her clitoris, and began to excite that; the other I ran up to her bubbies, and played with the nipples, a thing which I had found out excited her almost as much as playing with her clitoris. Her passions were soon reawakened, and the involuntary twistings of her loins and pressures of her sphincter convinced me that in a very short time I should work her up to the utmost; and so it was, and immensely she enjoyed both her own spend and mine when she felt my hot spunk shooting up into her very entrails. We sunk gently on our sides after this bout, but without unsheathing me; and here embracing, kissing and tonguing each other when she turned her head, and sometimes sucking the nearest nipple to me, we soon once more were in a state to renew our delicious combat; and a second course was run in the delightful callipygian recesses of Venus's second temple of lubricity. This was our last bout, for, alas, it was getting the hour when the house would be all astir. My lovely mistress embraced me most tenderly, and acknowledged that I had at last taught her a new pleasure. She wept as she tore herself from my arms, and I wept too when she left me, as I thought I had now lost her for ever as a mistress, and what a charming one she had been to me! + +Morning came, and with it bridesmaids, bridegroom, and man. To church we all went, my sisters perfectly enchanted with the idea of being bridesmaids, and beautifully arrayed in new dresses. They were also still more delighted with some handsome jewelry presented by Mr. Vincent. In their eyes he became the handsomest and finest man they had ever seen. The breakfast went off as usual, and when the bride, who had changed her bridal dress for a neat travelling one, came down, pretty near all were in tears on taking leave of her. She pressed me tenderly to her bosom, and whispered— + +"Courage, Charlie, dear." + +It was almost too much for me, but I managed to restrain any extreme demonstration of my grief. The carriage door was shut, and off they rattled to spend the honeymoon at Leamington. The friends assembled remained until the evening, and after the sensations of the day, and the fatigues of the previous night, I was glad to get to bed. I cried myself to sleep, thinking that another at that moment was revelling in all the delights of amorous enjoyment of those charms that had been so long in my sole possession. + +Thus ended one of the most delightful episodes of my life, and although I, at some rare intervals, from time to time found an opportunity of enjoying my loved mistress, they were flying fucks, very delicious, but very unsatisfactory. + +This was the first great incident that had an effect of changing the tenour of our existence for some time, but I will reserve the details of our after-adventures for a second part of these reminiscences of Early Experiences. + +The house was scarcely itself even the day after the marriage. Mrs. Evelyn was still with us, and did not leave until the following day. She and my mother spent most of the day in the summer house, so that our pastimes therein were interrupted. Mary complained of severe headache, which, in fact, was the premonitory symptom of her courses, which declared themselves violently in the evening. I had arranged with my sisters to steal up to their room when all were asleep, as now that we had lost our governess they had it all to themselves. I went, of course, but found only Eliza capable of entering into our sensual enjoyments. I made her come to me in Miss Evelyn's bed, and while fucking her, was thinking all the time of my darling governess; and even when I was fucking her I could only remember the complete insertion of my prick into Miss Evelyn's bum-hole the very night before her marriage, and wondered whether or not her husband had discovered her loss of maidenhead. And yet, I fancied woman's natural cunning would easily deceive him, as millions before him have been deceived. Coupling Mary's attack and Miss Evelyn's choice of the marriage day on the full moon, I could not help imagining that she intended to help her deception by the advent of her menstruation. It will be seen hereafter how far I was correct in my conjecture. I passed a delicious night in the arms of my charming Lizzie, and only stole away just in time not to be observed by the early-rising servants. Mrs. Evelyn departed the next day. My mother, feeling poorly, desired Lizzie to sleep with her, so perforce I had to pass a very quiet night, but which the agitation and excessive venery of the last week rendered very acceptable. + +Another week passed without anything particular beyond Mary being able to join Lizzie and me in our orgies. The doctor had recommended my mother to go for a few weeks to the seaside, and she resolved that we should all go for six weeks before engaging a new governess. So we left town for a charming little retired village on the west Welsh coast. It was but a small place, with one street, and some straggling houses here and there, but with a beautiful stretch of sand ending in abrupt rocks. Our lodgings were but small; a sitting-room and bedroom above a shop, and two rooms over that. I slept in the small back room off the sitting-room, my mother had the front upper room, and my two sisters were in the room beside her, with only a thin partition between them, so we found ourselves obliged to seek for some outside place to enjoy the erotic pleasures that had now become necessary to us. Very few visitors ever came near the retired little village. In our explorations we found that at the far end of the sands there were some nice retired spots behind the rocks, which soon became the scenes of our sensual enjoyments. The place was more than a mile from the village, and we could see if any one was coming towards us for the whole distance; but still as we might forget how fast time flies, we prudently established either one or the other of my sisters as a sentinel to give us warning if any one was approaching. So I took them in turn, laid them down, had a mutual gamahuche, and then a fuck; after which the previous watcher took the place of the one just fucked, and the same process was followed in her case. We had done this for three days, and were congratulating ourselves upon having found out so safe a place to indulge all our propensities in. We always spent the mornings with mamma, who kept us so far to our lessons, but after our midday meal, which mamma also made her dinner hour, she retired for a siesta, and we went out for a long walk and something better. I have said we fully enjoyed the first three days without any apparent chance of discovery. On the fourth, while Lizzie was on the watch in front, and Mary and I after a delicious gamahuche had just died away in all the ecstasies of a prolonged fuck up to the moment of discharge, and I was saying to her— + +"Did not that feel delicious, and was it not up to the hilt? + +"I should think so, with such a rammer as that up her cunt," said a strange voice close to us. + +You may easily suppose how we startled with surprise. + +"Oh, don't do that, I did not mean to spoil sport," said the same voice. + +It was a very gentlemanly man, with a soft quiet voice, and charming amiable expression of countenance, who stood smiling upon us close to our side, with his breeches open, and his standing pego in his hand. So great was our surprise that we never thought of the state we were in. Mary lay with legs spread out, and belly exposed, and cunt gaping open; and I with my breeches down, and my great big cock pendent, it is true, but hardly diminished in thickness. The stranger said again— + +"I am not here to spoil sport, on the contrary, to aid you in every way. I accidentally observed you two days ago. I am here, a stranger, like yourselves. I know you to be brother and sisters, and admire you all the more for being above the usual prejudices of that relationship. But you must be aware that as I know all about you, the best way is to let me be a participator in your sport; and then you not only shut my mouth, but it will be the means of vastly adding to all your pleasures, as well as giving me the most intense satisfaction. Now, for instance, your elder sister there, who was about to replace the younger on the watch, will be all the more satisfied, if I first fuck her. Don't be alarmed, my dear," said he, as he observed a sudden move of Mary, who all at once recollected how exposed her whole person was. "I shall do nothing without your full consent, but I am quite sure your brother, who takes you each in turn, will rather be pleased than otherwise, to see you in my arms, or I much mistake his character." + +I could not help, internally, thinking how exactly be had hit off my very thought, for I had just been calculating, in my own mind, how much better it would be for us to make him a participator with us, rather than an enemy by a refusal. So I at once averred that as it had turned out, it was likely to add greatly to all our pleasure, and I begged Mary to let him have his way. The natural reluctance of woman to appear too easy of access made her simulate a refusal, but as she still lay on her back, I leant over her, and opening her legs, begged him to kneel between and help himself. He gallantly, on kneeling, first stooped forward, and gave a good lick-up of all her cunt's spunk-covered lips, and then proceeded to gamahuche her, which quickly made her as anxious for his prick as he was to fuck her. As soon as they were fairly at it, I whistled, and beckoned to Lizzie to come up. You may easily imagine her surprise to see Mary in the arms of a strange man; but as the sight had had its usual effect on my sensitive organ, and as it was standing, almost ready to burst, I made her kneel opposite to them, and introduced my prick into her cunt from behind, so that we could both see the delicious fuck going on before us. It redoubled our excitement, and all four of us spent together in cries of rapture. After this bout we sat down to make further acquaintance, which, you may suppose, was not difficult, after such an introduction. Our new friend gave us some hints very useful for future proceedings, meanwhile he was feeling young Lizzie's cunt with one hand, and my prick with the other, very nicely and gently frigging it. He brought me to full stand very quickly, and then made me lie on my back, while he proceeded to admire and praise the extraordinary development which he declared was the greatest for one of my age he had ever met with, and his experience was very extensive. When it was at full stand, he stooped forward, and in the most delicious manner sucked my prick. It was more exciting than when either of my sisters, Miss Evelyn, or Mrs. Benson had gamahuched me. He also inserted a finger in my bottom-hole, and eventually made me spend in his mouth, which he greedily swallowed, nor did he cease sucking until every drop was drawn out of me. This had, of course, excited him, and he said— + +"Now, I must have the young one in her turn." + +Lizzie, nothing loath, lay down on the grass at once, I conducted his prick into her cunt, and frigged his bottom-hole, while their bout lasted. His prick was one of the middlings, not very long, nor very thick, but of a uniform size throughout, without any large projection of the nut, like mine. He advised us to stop for that day, and to walk towards the village with him, and then when in full sight, but far beyond hearing, we could sit down and concert measures for future pleasures of the most delicious lubricity. + +"I see," he said, "that we shall just hit it. I shall greatly add to your pleasures, and you to mine; you have something yet to learn, and I am the very person to instruct you in even higher delights than any of you have yet enjoyed." + +We followed him as desired, and, seated on a sand hillock, we held a long conversation, and arranged everything for future indulgencies. We agreed to meet at the rocks next day at our usual hour, he undertaking to be there ahead of us, to see that no lurking stranger should have hidden himself as he had done that day. He would think over the matter in the meantime, and contrive some way of meeting where we could be fully at ease, and strip ourselves naked, so as to enjoy a complete orgie of the most salacious lubricity. He showed us where he was lodged, a small inn a little way out of the village with its front to the road, and behind the stables there was attached to it a small cottage, consisting of a bedroom above, with a dressing-room, or small bedroom if necessary, over the passage; the door opened upon the coast, and there was no other communication with the inn than by going round past the stable yard to the front door. The servant of the inn came round in the morning, and laid his modest breakfast of tea, eggs and toast, and when he was done, cleared away and made his bed, &c. He took his dinner in the inn parlour at the hour the landlord and family dined. Nothing overlooked his windows, and he was sufficiently away from the village not to be easily observed, still less so from the inn; so that on approaching his lodgings from the sands he was almost as safe from observation as if he had lived in a lonely house far distant from any other. I am thus particular in describing his lodgings, as the advantages of the situation afterwards induced us to turn them to a profitable use. Our friend's name was MacCallum, James MacCallum, an offshoot of the great Scotch clan of that name, then in about his thirtieth year, fond of sporting, particularly fishing. His room was surrounded with the necessary implements, and he much frequented Wales from its advantage of possessing so many good trout streams. He it was who gave me a taste for the piscatory art, and I afterwards accompanied him on many a fishing excursion, which often led to new and singular erotic adventures, of which I may, perhaps, hereafter recount a few. His ordinary residence was London, and our present acquaintance led to some most intimate relations of true erotic extravagance, of which more anon. + +Meanwhile we met at the rocks on the next day, a Saturday. We found Mr. MacCallum at his post, and all being secure, proceeded to action. It was Mary's turn to take the first watch. Our friend constituted himself master of the ceremonies. He desired me to take off my breeches, and Lizzie to take off her gown and ease her corset, for as yet she wore no stays; then telling me to lie down on my back, he made Lizzie kneel at my head, with her bottom to me, and then to press back so as to bring her charming little cunt over my mouth, her under-petticoat and chemise being well canted over her shoulders. I thus had complete command of her clitoris with my tongue, and she could sink her buttocks quite down on my face, so that I could shove my tongue well up her cunt, and lick up all her spendings when she discharged; and at the same time, while embracing the charming plump hard buttocks with one hand, the other was left free to frig her bum-hole, and stimulate her passions up to the utmost. I have already told you how naturally she had taken to posterior pleasures. While thus engaged, Mr. MacCallum proceeded to gamahuche my prick in the most delicious manner, for he had an art in this delightful accomplishment that far exceeded that of the many by whom I have been gamahuched—of course, he added the postilion, as the French say, by frigging my bottom-hole at the same time. He made me most voluptuously discharge in his mouth at the very instant dear Lizzie was pouring into mine her delicious spendings. We lay enraptured for some time before we could stir. Then rising, I wished to return the compliment Mr. M. had paid my prick, by sucking his. But this he declined, saying— + +"I shall teach you all a new pleasure before we part, and my powers are not quite so active as your youth enables you to be, so for the moment we will indulge in close observation and sweet caresses of our members until by gentle titillations I get you two more prepared for the amorous contest—" + +He gamahuched Lizzie while handling my prick, and a very short period elapsed before he had us both in such a state of excitement that we were ready for anything he chose to direct. This time he also required me to lie down on my back, but he placed Lizzie on the top of me, and guided my prick himself into her delicious tight little notch. When fully inserted, which was completely accomplished before she quite lay down upon me, he desired us to go slowly to work. For a short time, with his face close to my cods, he watched the in and out movement of my prick, inserting a finger into both Lizzie's bottom and mine. Then rising, he said— + +"Stop a little, my dears, but don't withdraw. I am about to give your sister a lesson in the double action of most delicious pleasure." + +Then spitting on his prick, and applying a quantity of saliva to the rosy orifice of her bottom, he proceeded to insert his prick—little thinking how fond she was of taking pleasure in this route, and how often she had already enjoyed it. He took every precaution not to hurt her, and to be as gentle as possible, telling her to push out her bottom, and to strain as if she wanted to void something, which he told her would facilitate his entrance, and give her less pain. You may imagine how secretly pleased Lizzie was; she did all he desired—and with great gentleness he succeeded in sheathing his prick up to the close junction of his belly against her buttocks. + +"Capital, my dear, you have borne it admirably. I see you will make an apt scholar; now you will have nothing but the most ecstatic raptures from the action of two pricks at once. Now, Charles, it is for you to work, and for your most charming sister to continue only the exquisite pressures she is already at this moment so rapturously conferring on our excited members." + +We thus commenced the first lesson we ever had in the double fuck. Dear Lizzie was almost mad with the agonising sensations of rapturous pleasure the double thrusting produced upon her erotic nerves. I, too, felt the rubbing of Mr. M.'s prick so closely upon mine, for the slight membrane dividing the bottom passage from the vagina, by the powerful stretching of the two members between which it was sandwiched, became so thin a division that it really appeared as if there was nothing between our pricks. Such ecstatic excitement brought matters to a speedy conclusion. Lizzie screamed so loudly with her excess of pleasure that it somewhat alarmed Mary, who came running up to see what was the matter. Her surprise was great at the sight she beheld, but we were far too deliriously wrapt in the lap of most salacious luxury and lubricity to be sensible to any interruption. As for Lizzie she was in convulsions of ecstasy, which ended in quite a hysteric attack which rather alarmed us, and made us withdraw from the exquisite sheaths in which we had been engulphed with such rapture. It was some time before dear Lizzie recovered her senses, and then she burst into tears, declaring she had never before known what pleasure meant, and she had been in the seventh heaven of delight, that she could wish for no better death than to die in such agony of pleasure. She then threw herself into Mr. M.'s arms, and kissing him with the utmost fervour, said— + +"Oh, you dear man, how I love you for teaching me such a delicious way of loving; you shall have me whenever and wherever you please. I shall love you as much as I do my darling brother Charlie." + +She then turned to me and warmly embraced me too. Then, putting on her gown, she proceeded to take up the watch, while Mary remained to be likewise initiated in the luxury of the double fuck. She somewhat dreaded the experiment, but having witnessed the ecstasies of pleasure it had thrown Lizzie into, she was not unwilling to try if it could be accomplished with Mr. MacCallum's somewhat less massive member. He put us through the same preliminary manoeuvres of backing Mary on her knees over my mouth, and while he sucked my prick, he feasted his eyes at the same time on Mary's really finely developed buttocks, giving him promise of great after-pleasure. He even begged me to leave her bottom-hole to his finger so that he frigged the bum-hole of the sister while he sucked the prick of the brother, a combination which afforded him the most racy delight, Mary was greatly excited, and spent most copiously in my mouth, while I quickly followed suit in the mouth of Mr. M., who did not allow a drop to be wasted. When we had reposed ourselves sufficiently, his lascivious touches and caresses and praises of our parts soon sufficiently re-excited us to let him see if we might again proceed to action. As before, I lay down on my back, and Mary, straddling across me, had my prick guided into her longing cunt by the hand of Mr. M. When I was fairly engulphed in her hot and throbbing cunt, she began her exquisite casse-noisette pressures, which talent she possessed in the greatest perfection; then bending down to me I clasped her in my arms, and glued my lips to hers in a loving kiss and tongue embrace. Her bottom presented itself in all its beauty to our worthy master of the ceremonies, who, delighted with its more fully blown beauties than that of the younger sister, paid first due homage to it by fondly kissing it, and thrusting his tongue up the rosy orifice, titillating her excessively, then wetting his prick he applied it to the tender rosebud-like dimple at first without success, Mary telling him she did not think he could possibly succeed. + +"Patience and perseverance, my dear girl," said he, "will enable me to get into a mouse; we must try another way; it is that great huge monster of a prick in your cunt that is so blocking up the route as to close almost entirely the way to the more secret temple of salacious delights. Withdraw for a moment." + +I did so; upon which he plunged in an instant up to the hilt in her cunt and gave a few shoves to excite her and throw her off her guard, for he told us afterwards, the first difficulty was all owing to Mary's involuntary opposition, by squeezing in her bottom-hole, instead of pushing it out. When he thought he had sufficiently excited her, and made her suppose he was going to continue regularly fucking her, he suddenly withdrew the two fingers he had in her bum-hole, by a jerk substituted his prick, and before Mary was aware, had sheathed it more than halfway into her bottom. She gave a half scream, but his hold of her hips, and my close embrace of her waist, for I all along knew what he was at, prevented her from flinching and throwing him out, which was her first impulse. He said— + +"I will keep still, and any unpleasant feeling will go off in a moment." + +He stopped for two or three minutes, which I occupied in first rubbing the end of my prick on Mary's clitoris, which was a well-developed one, and when by her nervous movements I found her passions were being roused, I slipped it into her tightened cunt without much difficulty. Mr. M. took the opportunity of finding me penetrating to glide in on his point of attack up to his utmost limit. Mary gasped again, and declared it was choking her. However, by a little more patience, and then by very gentle movements, we gradually worked her up to the utmost state of excitement, and she, as well as both of us, went off in a delirium of enraptured felicity. She lay panting and throbbing between us for nearly a quarter of an hour. + +I was already in a state for renewed efforts, but Mr. M. rose, and withdrew his reeking prick from the tight recess in which it had enjoyed such ecstasies, and told us we must be content with that day's work, expressly as he had a plan in his head for the next day, that would require us to have all our erotic powers at command. Then, as before, we approached the village, so as to be seen, but not overheard, so that our going away to more distant places should create no suspicion. Mr. M. then informed us that we could come to his cottage the next afternoon, instead of the rocks; we should be able to undress ourselves in the buff, and have a perfect orgie of salacious delights. We heartily approved of this plan, and after an amusing conversation, we parted to meet the next day on the sands, but in the contrary directions to the rocks, for the purpose of afterwards approaching his cottage from the least observable site. + +After dinner the next day we started at our usual hour apparently for our ordinary promenade, but after leaving the village, and allowing most of the people to be safely stowed away in church for the afternoon service, we turned on our steps and made for Mr. M.'s door. He saw us coming, and was ready to admit us, without knocking. We immediately adjourned to the bedroom upstairs, and lost no time in all of us stripping stark naked. After some preliminary admiration of the two girls, whose forms were certainly cast in beauty's mould, we lay down in bed. I and Lizzie mutually gamahuched each other, with the usual accompaniments in the charming orifices of our bottoms. Mr. MacCallum and Mary, for he had taken a great fancy to her and her splendid bottom, followed our example, After we had a happy and most delicious spend, and then mutual embraces and kisses, we put the girls into all conceivable poses, until we were once more ready to go on with something more serious than gamahuching. Mr. M., as usual, acted as master of the ceremonies, and ordered Mary to lie down on her back, then Lizzie reversed upon her, so that she could gamahuche Mary's cunt, and tickle her bum-hole, while Mary was to frig Lizzie's clitoris with one hand, and play with my cods with the other, Mr. M. himself guided my prick into the delicious bottom-hole of Lizzie, and when we were all fixed, and he had frigged my bum-hole with two fingers, he said— + +"Now I am going to initiate you, Charlie, into the delight of being alike operator and receiver." + +So saying, he moistened his tool and spit in my bum-hole, and proceeded very gently to introduce his prick therein. I have described his cock as not very thick at the point, consequently the first part introduced itself very easily, but when the pillar pushed its way in, and began to stretch the parts, it produced a curious sickening feeling, very like as if I had received a kick on the bottom; so I was obliged to ask him to halt a little. He was too experienced in the art not to fully understand my feelings, and knew well it would go off in a minute or two, if I was left quiet. So pausing until I told him he might now try to get in further, he drew back a little and applying more spittle to the shaft, gently and firmly, and slowly guided his prick up to the hilt, or as far as his belly and my buttocks would allow. Again pausing a little, until feeling by the throbbing of my prick, which produced the same pressure on my bum-hole, that I was warming to the work, he began slow movements of thrusts in and out, which, together with the hot and voluptuous pressures and movements of my own little partner excited both by Mary's finger and my prick, began to fire my passions, and we soon grew very fierce in our movements. Nothing I could ever have imagined equalled the extraordinary and delicious ecstasy that the double action produced upon my erotic nerves. I gasped, I shuddered with the agony of intense pleasure, and at the moment when the grand and rapturous finale approached, I actually brayed exactly like a donkey, which, in after cooler moments, amused all of us. The action of pleasure had come upon all at once, and we sank in an inert mass on those below us. How poor Mary endured it astonished us, but the scene had so excited her that she said it never occurred to her, and she felt nothing. We eventually rose, and after a necessary purification, partook of wine and cake, which Mr. MacCallum, with great foresight, had provided. After that he would not allow us to fuck for some time; and we had a regular romp all about the room, which we enjoyed very much, and nothing was heard but slaps on our bottoms, and the wildest rollicking laughter—until our two cocks, by their stiff-standing, showed that we were again ready to enter on new combats. This time Lizzie lay down, Mary gamahuched her. Mr. M. got into her bum-hole, and I proceeded to attempt to do the same to him, but all to no purpose. I was too heavy hung for his bottom-hole, a very small one for a man. He had every wish to accommodate me, but do what I would, I could not overcome the physical difficulties. So reversing our positions, I lay on my back, Mary straddled over me, my prick was put into her cunt, and stooping down, and presenting her anus, M. succeeded more easily than the day before in getting into her bum-hole. Lizzie standing up with a leg on each side of Mary's and my body, brought her quim up to M.'s mouth, and he luxuriously gamahuched her, while his finger acted postilion in her bottom. The erotic storm raged with great fury for a long time, and then, growing more fast and furious, brought us all standing in ecstasies of the most salacious enjoyment, for us to sink once more into the annihilation of satiated desire. We lay long wrapped in close embrace. Recovering our senses in long-drawn sighs, we again refreshed ourselves with wine and cake, and as our passions were not so quickly reawakened as those of our more excitable companions, we proceeded to gamahuche them, without their exercising a like skill upon our pricks. We then had another romp, and replacing Mary below and Lizzie above, I, this time, fucked her cunt, at her request, as she said it must not be altogether neglected. M., as previously, took me behind, and as there was a greater facility, so there was greater enjoyment, and as our previous exertions had taken off the sharper appetite, we were enabled to draw out our pleasure to a much greater length, until at last we died away in all the agony of such a glorious conjunction of parts. We had one more delicious general fuck before we parted. Lizzie was again fucked by me, and buggered by Mr. M., which she declared she preferred to any other combination, my prick so deliriously gorging her tight little cunt, and making M.'s prick, from the pressure of my larger weapon in the cunt, feel as tight in her bottom as my prick did, when nothing but Mary's finger was in her cunt. We ran our course with even greater luxury and lasciviousness than before. Lizzie actually was hysterical with the force of her enjoyment, and we all sank sideways off poor Mary, and lay long locked in each other's arms. This, for that day, ended our most delightful orgie. We purified ourselves, and then dressed. We parted with many sweet embraces, and promises of renewing the delightful scenes we had just gone through, and, in fact, we often and often repeated them, varying from time to time with a visit to the rocks, lest we should draw observation upon us by constantly going to the cottage. + +Our six weeks came to an end so rapidly that we could hardly believe the time had already passed. Mamma one morning informed us we were to leave on the day after the next. You may suppose our disappointment, but there was no help for it. We met that day at the rocks, we were melancholy at the thought of parting with our charming friend, whom we now really loved. We were not near so fiery as usual, but resolved to have one thorough good orgie the next day at the cottage, as a farewell benefit to us all. We met, as agreed on, and put in force every art to augment our pleasures, and every contrivance to excite anew our powers to the utmost. Both M. and I must have spent six to seven times, but the girls being more easily excited in their finer organs of coition, went off in ecstasies some nine or ten times; until fairly exhausted, we had, from want of power, to give up the game, dress and part. We hoped to meet again. The girls wept at parting with our delightful friend, to whom we owed so many delicious orgies. We exchanged addresses, and he promised to come on a fishing excursion to our neighbourhood, where he hoped we should find means of renewing the lascivious sports we had already so much enjoyed. We tore ourselves away from him at last. It will be seen in the sequel, that unforeseen events carried me to London, or rather away from home, before we could meet again; and it was in London, at his own chambers, where we again renewed our charming intercourse, and practised every art of venery. + +We returned home, and mamma again advertised for a governess, and stated that she required one of not less than thirty years of age, and with much experience in teaching. Numerous responses were made to the advertisement; but one lady desired to see mamma and her pupils before accepting the place, at the same time forwarding very satisfactory testimonials. Mamma was rather struck with the style of letter, and the unusual demand of previous acquaintance before entering into final arrangements. So she wrote to Miss Frankland, begging her to come and spend three days with us, and if her visit should prove as agreeable to both as her letter had done to mamma, she had no doubt matters might be arranged to their mutual satisfaction. Accordingly, at the expected hour, Miss Frankland arrived. She was, to our then thinking, an elderly lady, rather above thirty years of age than under, of tall and commanding figure, somewhat large, but no superfluous fat, broad shouldered, and wide hipped, with bosoms well separated, but not too prominent. Her hair was coal black, and her eyes equally so, but with the most determined expression, rendered more so by very thick eyebrows, which met in the middle. She showed also a well marked downy moustache, and the small curly hairs below her head, at the back of her neck, literally lost themselves beneath her high-necked dress. She always wore long sleeves, and never showed bare arms. I afterwards found the reason of this was that her arms were so black with thick hair that she was ashamed to let them be seen, although, in reality, beautifully formed and plump. Her mouth was large; it showed animal passion, but at the same time determined firmness of character. You could not call her handsome, but there was altogether an appearance of face, expression, and person that might well be styled a fine woman. As for us, at the period of first seeing her, we only marked the determined character of her countenance, and at once dreaded her becoming our governess, as we felt we should not only have one who would master us, but who would also be severe in every way. Youth is often a better physiognomist than it is credited with. It will be seen in the sequel whether we had judged correctly or not. Suffice it to say that her three days' visit ended in her being perfectly satisfied with the offered position, and mamma being equally satisfied with her. We did not know at the time, but afterwards found out, that she had made it a sine qua non that she should have carte blanche as to the use of the rod. She had observed to mamma that she thought we had been too leniently treated by our late governess, and it would be necessary to exert severe discipline, which, in her own experience, she had always found most efficacious. My mother, who had during the last two months found us rather headstrong and wilful, quite chimed in with her idea, and gave every authority to do quite as she liked, either with her girls or her son. + +Terms being so arranged, Miss Frankland required a week to make all her arrangements before definitely taking up her new residence. My mother, thinking we should be well kept in on the arrival of Miss Frankland, left us in uninterrupted liberty until then, you may be sure we improved the occasion, and did our best to make up for the loss of our inestimable and amiable friend, Mr. MacCallum. Not only did we make use of the summer house by day, but every night I stole up to my loved sisters' room, where we tried to emulate the luxurious scenes of lubricity we had lately been so deliriously indulging in at the seaside in Wales. Of course, the week passed far too quickly, and on the appointed day my mother drove into the town to bring Miss Frankland home, on the arrival of the coach. My two sisters accompanied her, as something or other was always wanted for the girls; and as Miss Frankland and her luggage would quite fill the carriage on their return, I was left by myself at home, a most fortunate circumstance, as it turned out. + +I was somewhat annoyed at being left alone. But how true it is that "man proposes and God disposes." Had I gone with them I should have missed a most delicious and unexpected treat. I had strolled to the summer house in a sort of despair at the lost opportunity of again fucking my sisters before the arrival of the dreaded governess. I was listlessly gazing out of the window when I suddenly became aware of a lady waving her hand to me from a gig coming down the road which our summer house commanded. In an instant I recognised Mrs. Vincent. To run down the hillock, unbolt the private door, and welcome her to our house, was the work of a moment. I begged her to get out and walk to the house through the grounds, her servant could drive round to the stables and wait there. She did so at once. I never said a word of all being absent until I had her safe in the summer house. Without a word I seized her round the waist, and pressing her back on the couch, quickly unbuttoned my trousers, and pulling up her petticoats, was pushing my stiff prick against her belly before she was almost aware of my intentions. + +"My dear Charlie," she cried, "what are you at? We shall be discovered, and it will be my ruin." + +"Oh, no, my ever loved Mrs. Vincent; they are all away to town, and we have nothing to fear." + +She loved me too well to make further resistance; on the contrary, seconding me with all her accustomed art, we both quickly sunk in all the voluptuous raptures of satisfied desire. I would not quit my position, but kissing her rapturously, I shoved my tongue into her mouth, and stopped her remonstrances. The excitement of meeting her after a two months' separation stimulated my passions to the utmost, and with hardly bated breath I began a fresh career, but with more moderation and greater pains to make her a perfect participant in the raptures I myself was receiving. She thoroughly enjoyed it, and being relieved from any fear of surprise, after my informing her of the absence of all the family, she gave way to all the force of her ardent amorous propensities, enjoyed our delicious fuck thoroughly, and spent at the same time as myself with screams of satiated passion. After this I withdrew. She kissed me most tenderly, and said I was as bad and wild a boy as ever, that she loved me too tenderly ever to refuse me anything I desired, and begged me to sit by her side and talk of old times. + +"No," I said, "on the contrary, tell me all about yourself; I have not seen you since your marriage day, and I want to know how the after-part went off. I was in dread lest our embracings should have left traces that would make your husband suspect you were not all he had anticipated." + +"You are a strange boy, my dear Charlie, and more of a man in every way than many ten years older than yourself. Who would have thought such ideas would have been running through so young a head. Well, my darling boy, I was somewhat uneasy on that very point myself, and, indeed, had fixed the marriage day when I expected I should be unwell on the very night, but in that I was disappointed; nothing came, and I was driven to act in the best way I could. I kept my legs close together. I got my hand down to that part of my person, and kept squeezing my affair as close as possible. I pressed hard with my fingers on his weapon as he forced an entrance, and all at once gave way with a scream of apparent pain, as he gave an extra thrust, and let him penetrate at once. An inexperienced husband takes much on credit and imagination, I quite satisfied him that he was the first possessor of my person; but, oh! my beloved Charlie, I found I was really ready in the family-way, and you, my dear fellow, are the father of the baby now within my womb." + +"What? I! I! the father of your baby? Oh, dear, darling Mrs. Vincent; oh, say that again." + +"It is indeed true, my dear Charlie; and the knowledge that I first possessed you, and you me, reconciles me to giving my husband a child that is not his." + +"My child! my child!" I cried, and I danced round in a paroxysm of delight at the idea of being a father. It seemed at once to elevate me to manhood, and puffed me up with pride. I rushed upon dear Mrs. V., embraced her most warmly, and pushing her back on the sofa, said— + +"I must see how the little angel looks in his cell." + +I turned up her petticoats, and exposed all her beauteous belly, already by its swelling showing there was more there than ever went into her mouth. Her cunt too had become more prominent. I stooped, kissed her lovely quim, gave it a good suck, then gamahuched her till she cried out for my prick to fuck her, and a most exquisite and rapturous fuck we had. The thought that I was baptising my own babe with my sperm stimulated my lubricity, and we ran a course of the most libidinous delights until we dissolved away in the most voluptuous death-like exhaustion of satisfied desires. + +"Charlie, my darling, you must get up; remember you may injure the dear little creature by too great an excess, so pray rise." + +I rose at once, but only to embrace her most tenderly. She complained of feeling somewhat faint, and said we must now go to the house to get some wine. We put ourselves in order, and all radiant at the thoughts of paternity, I strutted along as proud as a peacock, and thinking no small beer of myself. I hardly knew whether I stood on my head or my heels, and was quite extravagant in my conduct. Dear Mrs. V. was obliged seriously to caution me before I could come to a proper reserved behaviour in presence of the servants. She rested about half an hour, and was about to order the gig up to the door, but I implored her to send it round to the road below the summer house, as I should all the longer have the pleasure of being with her. She smiled, and again gave me a pat on the cheek, as much as to say, "I understand you, you rogue," but did as I suggested. So we proceeded through the grounds, and were at the summer house some time before the gig could be harnessed and come round to the road below. I did not wait for that, but embracing darling Mrs. V., wanted to push her down on the sofa. + +"No, no, dear Charlie, that will tumble my dress too much, and we shall have no time to put it in order; stop, I will kneel on the low couch, and you will stand behind, I can guide you from below, and you know I always thought you got further in and gave me more pleasure that way than any other." + +She knelt down, and I canted her clothes right over her shoulders, and exhibited her fine buttocks, which, now she was in the family-way, had widened out, and were fatter and rounder than ever. First gluttonously kissing them, I brought my prick right against them. Mrs. Vincent projected her hand behind, seized and guided him into her glowing and longing cunt, and he plunged at one bound up to the hilt. + +"Gently, Charlie dear," she cried, "remember our dear baby is there, and you must not be too violent." + +This at once reduced me to moderation. I had a hand on each hip, and as I slowly glided in, I pressed her splendid buttocks backwards to meet me. I kept my body upright so as to enjoy the lovely sight of the movement of her bottom. + +"Put your arm round and feel my clitoris, Charlie, dear." + +I did so for a minute, and then whispered— + +"It is such delight to gaze on your splendid bum in action, so pray apply your own finger to your clitoris, and let me enjoy the lovely sight." + +"Very well, darling." + +And I could feel her frigging away most furiously. This enabled me to introduce first one and then two fingers into her most delicious bottom-hole. When I found she was in the greatest state of excitement, I suddenly shifted my prick, and substituted it for my fingers. In her surprise and excitement, she had no time to resist, and I glided in, not too rapidly, quite up as far as I could go. She flinched a little, and called me a bad fellow, but I held her hips too tight to allow of her unseating me, even if she had wished. I begged she would let me go on, for I had never forgotten the delight of doing it this way the night before her marriage. She made no reply, but I could feel redoubled action with her finger on her clitoris; and the muscular twitchings of her loins and sphincter soon convinced me that nothing would please her better than finishing our course where I was—and most delicious it proved. We should have died away in loud cries of agonised delight but for the necessity of prudence, for doubtless the gig was then awaiting but a few yards off. My darling mistress seemed unwilling to let me withdraw; she held my prick in such close and firm embrace, throbbing on it from moment to moment, and so exciting him that she shortly felt he was again stiffening inside of her. She rose on her legs, and by that action unsheathed me. Then, turning round, she threw her arms about my neck, and most tenderly embraced me, thanking me for having given her such exquisite proofs of love. + +"But I must go, my dear Charlie, and I hope we shall have occasionally some other delicious opportunity of enjoying such raptures again. Say everything kind to your mother and the girls, and tell them I shall come ever again shortly and see them all." + +I saw her into her gig, and watched her until a turn in the road hid her from my sight. I returned to the summer house, and kissed the spot she had last pressed with her lovely body. My soul was filled with love of her, and pride that I was man enough to put a babe into her belly. I strutted about the room, and if any one could have seen me I should doubtless have appeared ridiculous. Mamma, our new governess, and the girls returned to tea. I told them of Mrs. Vincent's visit, and her regret at finding them absent, also of her promise to drive over again on an early day. My mother hoped I had been attentive to her. I said I had, as well as I could, and had got some wine and biscuits, as she complained of not feeling very well, she thought the jolting road had tired her. + +It may well be supposed that after the impression our new governess had made upon us, we were very attentive for some time. Indeed, her system of teaching was really excellent, far superior, in that respect, to our former governess. She had a method of interesting you in what she was teaching, and for quite two months we paid such great attention, and made such really extraordinary progress, that she could not help praising us highly to mamma while we were in the room. This was bad policy, because, with the natural thoughtlessness of youth, we fancied ourselves so clever that we became less attentive. This was patiently borne with for some time, probably in consequence of our previous good behaviour. But at last Lizzie was somewhat impudent when blamed rather harshly by Miss Frankland. + +"Oh! it has come to that, has it? We shall see." She continued our lessons until four o'clock as usual, and then desired Lizzie to remain where she was; she dismissed Mary and me, locked the door on poor Lizzie, and went away, doubtless for a rod. She soon returned, and locking herself in, most severely whipped poor Lizzie's bottom. She sent her out when it was finished, and Lizzie joined us, weeping bitterly from the pain she was suffering. We laid her on the couch, and turned her petticoats over her head to cool her bottom, which she declared felt as if burning hot coals were spread over it. I kissed the dear red buttocks that were all covered with weals and looked like raw beef, but no blood had been drawn. We fanned her with our handkerchiefs, which she said was a delightful relief. In a very few minutes she began to wriggle her bottom in a state of excitement, and cried out— + +"Dear Charlie, do shove your prick into my cunt, it has begun to long for a fuck." + +I wanted nothing but this to instantly act, for the sight of her bare bum had already made my cock stand as stiff as iron. She raised herself on her hands and knees, presenting the back entrance to her cunt, and telling me it was there she must have it instantly. I plunged up to the hilt in a moment, for she was as juicy and moist as if she had spent, which it is more than probable was the case. Very few powerful thrusts on my part, seconded by energetic action on hers, and she spent again with a scream of delight, and with a pressure on my cock that almost hurt it. She hardly paused a moment before she cried out— + +"Shove on, dear Charlie, push it in further if you can, I am burning with desire." + +She wriggled her backside in every way in the most lascivious and delicious manner, and when she felt the crisis approaching, by the increased swelling and hardness of my prick as well as the peculiar electric effect at the moment, she met my flood of sperm with so copious a discharge that it literally spurted out and deluged my cods and thighs. She held me tight, and would not allow me to withdraw until I had myself spent four times and she seven at least. We then rose, her nerves calmed by the repeated doses of hot boiling sperm shot into her interior. She declared that never in all her fucking had she felt such insatiable desire, or more ravishing delight in satisfying it, that she would undergo a dozen such floggings to have the same rapturous enjoyment. + +"I am sure," she said, "it was all the effect of the rod, I never felt anything like it before." + +Mary all this time had been but a spectator, and a pleased one to see the erotic fury of her sister and my powerful efforts to allay it. It is true we had both had a delicious fuck during the time poor Lizzie was catching it on her backside, and I had just gamahuched her deliciously afterwards as Lizzie came in in such pain. + +Miss Frankland had retired to her room, and looked still flushed and somewhat wild looking when she joined us after the usual hour's recreation. As may well be supposed, we were all as attentive as possible. There was one circumstance that evidently pleased Miss Frankland immensely. When Lizzie, in her turn, went up to repeat her lesson, she suddenly threw her arms round Miss Frankland's neck, and with tears running over her cheeks, sobbed out— + +"Dear Miss Frankland, pray forgive me, and let me kiss you, for I love you dearly." + +There was a bright sparkle of delight in Miss Frankland's eyes. She clasped Lizzie round the waist, and drew her to her lips in a long sweet kiss of love, which seemed as if it would never end. We observed Miss Frankland's colour rise. She at last put Lizzie away, and said she was a dear amiable girl, whom she could not help loving. + +"Go to your seat, you are too agitated, my dear, to say your lesson just now; so send Mary up." + +Lizzie came back to her seat, but I could not help fancying I saw a complete expression of erotic desire on her countenance. When afterwards we were alone together, she told us that when the governess kissed her, she felt Miss F.'s tongue glide into her mouth, and "tip her the velvet" in a most delicious and exciting manner, and she believed that if they had been alone they must have given each other mutual embraces of a warmer description. This led me to think that Miss Frankland was herself rendered lecherous by the action of even wielding the rod. Lizzie during the whole of the next week did nothing but rave of the excessive excitement that her whipping had put her into, and the extreme felicity she felt in having her salacious lechery satisfied. We were not able to meet every day, for frequently Miss Frankland accompanied us, and joined in the youthful sports we then gave way to. Lizzie continuing to harp on the extraordinary enjoyment the whipping had procured her, after it was over, fired the imagination of Mary, until she was wound up to a pitch of actually longing to be whipped. In such a case it was easy to incur the penalty; she had but wilfully to neglect her studies, and she was sure to get it. This she accordingly did, and it resulted as before. When released, she rushed to the summer house, and without any preliminaries, called upon me to fuck her directly; and a very similar scene followed to that which had occurred when dear Lizzie was whipped. Mary did not, however, give way to the uncontrollable desire to throw herself into Miss Frankland's arms as Lizzie had done. Miss F., as usual, retired to her room after the punishment was over, and was late in coming down, with the same flushed face and excited eye. I became convinced that she herself was salaciously excited by the act, and I began to fancy that with such passions, if I could but excite her in any way, it might be worth my while. When once these lecherous ideas were raised in my imagination, desire soon painted her with every charm of beauty, and I became excessively lewd and anxious to possess her. The more I looked at and scanned the really beauteous proportions of her finely developed form, the more my determination to have her took root, and grew strong within me. + +About this time Miss Frankland, who had become a great favourite with mamma, obtained permission to take possession of the spare bedroom, with an understanding that she was to cede it to any visitor who might come. Of course, this circumstance made my desire to get into her good graces doubly strong, inasmuch as the opportunity of sleeping with her afterwards could be so easily effected. I determined to watch her when retiring to bed, and try to get a view of her naked form. For this purpose I removed the stopping of moistened bread I had put in the hole I made to see Mr. Benson fucking his wife. I lay awake, until she came to bed. I saw her undress, but only caught sight of her naked bubbies, over her chemise. As I have said, they were not large, but widely separated, with a fine flat neck up to the throat. I mean that she showed no collar bone, which is a great beauty in woman. She had evidently been quite naked, and had used the bidet, but the extent of the slit in the door did not allow me to command the part of the room where she had used it. I remedied this defect next day, and the following night was rewarded with a most glorious sight. You may well suppose that I did not let sleep overcome me, but was at my post as soon as ever I heard her enter her room. I was on my knees in a moment, at my peephole, and saw her deliberately undress to her chemise. She then arranged all her magnificent head of hair, brushing it out as far and further than her arms would extend; and after well brushing and combing it, she plaited and rolled it up, in a great big rouleau behind, then washing her hands, she drew out the bidet, poured water into it, and then divested herself of her shift. She was standing in front of the dressing-table, with two candles shining on her, so that when she lifted her shift over her head; I had a well-lighted full view of her wonderfully covered belly. She was all over hair; it was as black as coal, and shone as if polished in all its beautiful curls. I am now an old man, but never have I seen the equal to that dear woman in a hairy belly. It was quite up to her navel, and several inches down the inside of her thighs, besides running thickly in the chinks of her bottom, and with two bunches where the beautiful back dimple is usually situated, as thick, and even thicker than ordinary women have in on their mounts. In addition to this, there was a beautiful little line of curls that ran up her belly, as far as between her bubbies, to say nothing of the very hairy thighs, legs, and arms. I never saw a more deliciously hairy woman, and she was all that such excessive growth of hair denoted—passionate and lecherous to a degree, when once she had confidence in her companion, to let her feelings have vent. Of course, I am now describing my after-experience; at the moment I was only dazzled by the extraordinary richness and quantity of that exquisite ornament—hair—not only in splendid quantity on the head, but in a profusion such as I had never then and have not since witnessed. I was struck dumb with astonishment and admiration. She laved her hairy cunt, and all the adjacent parts, then wiped herself dry, put on her night-gown, extinguished her light, and, of course, got into bed. So did I but only to toss and tumble, and at last, in troubled sleep, to dream of that most gloriously covered cunt, and to imagine myself revelling therein. So great was my excitement that I had the first wet dream I ever experienced. It is needless to say, it was under the dreaming idea that I was enjoying to the utmost that wonder cunt. + +I was quite exhausted by morning with such a restless night, and was not only very distrait, but was really so fatigued that I could not attend to my lessons. Of course Miss Frankland noticed this, and being unaware of the cause, attributed it to wilful idleness and bravado of her authority. She spoke very gravely and seriously to me, and told me if I did not improve my conduct by next day it would be her painful duty to punish me with severity. + +"I expect to see you exhibit very different conduct tomorrow, otherwise you will drive me to do that which I would much rather not." + +It rained hard that afternoon, and we had to amuse ourselves within doors. On retiring for the night, I determined to watch again for Miss Frankland, but my want of rest the previous night overpowered me, and I fell fast asleep until far in the night. I rose and crept to my peep-hole, but all was dark. I could hear Miss Frankland breathing heavily. The thought at once struck me that I might safely steal up to my sisters' room, as they were now alone, since Miss F. had the previous night removed to the spare bedroom, where she was now fast asleep. So softly opening my door, and leaving it ajar, I crept along the passage, gained my sisters' room, and gently awakening them, jumped in between them, to their great joy and satisfaction. We immediately began with a gamahuche, I taking Mary's cunt, while Lizzie crossed her legs over her head, and was gamahuched by Mary, whose finger was at the same time acting postilion to her charming bottom-hole, while I had the exquisite prospect before me of their operations. As soon as ever Mary spent I made Lizzie lie down on her back, with her head towards the bottom of the bed, Mary knelt over her in the opposite direction, presenting her very full backside, which was daily developing larger proportions. I plunged into her cunt, plugging her little rosy bum-hole at the same time with my middle finger, while Lizzie did as much for me, at the same time rubbing Mary's clitoris with the fleshy end of the thumb, while Mary, at the same time she herself was fucked and frigged in two places, was employed in gamahuching Lizzie, and frigging her bottom-hole with two fingers, Lizzie declaring that one finger felt as nothing. We lengthened out our delicious proceedings until excess of excitement compelled us to give way to all the fury of our feelings, and we managed to spend all together with such rapturous and lascivious delight as rendered us quite powerless for some time. We then had a delicious cuddle, the girls having each one hand on my prick and the other on my buttocks. When we had once more worked ourselves up to fucking heat, we reversed the previous position, and I fucked Lizzie. Mary was gamahuched and bottom-fingered by Lizzie, while she employed herself with Lizzie's clitoris and my bum-hole. Lizzie was far hotter and more salacious than any of us, and spent copiously on my delighted prick, which enjoyed excessively the warm bath of glutinous liquid that was poured down upon it. I gave a few slow-drawn thrusts in and out, to moisten well its whole shaft, and removing my two fingers from her delicious bottom-hole, and wetting it with my saliva, I withdrew my prick from the reeking sheath of her cunt, and to her great delight slowly housed it in her longing and exquisitely delicious bottom-hole, keeping it quiet there for some time, so as not to spend before Lizzie was ready. I enjoyed the delicious throbbing of her body, which at last becoming too exciting, I stooped over her, passed a hand under her belly, replaced Mary's fingers, rubbing her clitoris while Mary frigged her cunt with two fingers thrust into it. We thus quickly brought matters to an end, and died off in all the ecstasies of satiated lust. As daylight was beginning to dawn, I tore myself from their loving embraces, gained my room in safety, and slept the sleep of the just until late in the morning. + +My orgie with my sisters had so far satisfied my animal passions that I rather began to dread the severity I knew Miss Frankland would use if I came under her hand. This made me so far attentive next day as to satisfy her; and as it was a fine afternoon she came out to walk in the garden, while we innocently amused ourselves. That evening I kept awake, and again enjoyed the superb display of Miss Frankland's wonderfully hairy cunt, all the lower part of her body was as black as a chimney sweeper's. The sight awakened every lustful feeling within me. I felt I must possess her, and determined to brave the severest infliction she could give me with the rod. I somehow, instinctively, arrived at the conclusion that this extraordinary profusion of hair could only grow where nature had implanted the hottest animal passions, and had but to greatly excite them to turn their lust to my advantage. I determined that to-morrow I should bring things to a crisis, and that I might be equal to every effort I went to my bed, and did not attempt to steal up to my sisters' room. Next day nothing could be made of me in the morning; Miss Frankland sternly warned me that if such conduct was pursued after dinner nothing should save my skin from a severe scourging. However, my mind was made up, and I went in "for the whole hog," as our vulgar Yankee cousins say. I was more idle and insubordinate than ever. Miss F. looked thunder; at four o'clock she ordered me to stay, and the girls to go. She then locked the door, took out from the desk a formidable rod, and told me to approach her. I did so—really half in fear, for she could look dreadfully fierce and determined, in which case I came up to her side. + +"Now, Charles," she said, "your conduct, for two or three days past, has been such as I cannot put up with. Your mother has given me full power to punish any of you severely, if I think you deserve it; you are getting to be of an age that I hoped you would have so acted as to give me no cause of offence, but I am sorry to see my hopes are disappointed. I am now about to punish you, submit to it quietly, or it will be all the worse for you. Unbutton and put down your trousers." + +I felt I must submit, but when brought to this point I really so much dreaded her that there was not the slightest erection in poor cockey. + +While I was undoing my trousers, I observed that Miss Frankland had quite lifted up her outer frock, and had sat down, evidently intending to flog me across her knee. Both being ready, she told me to put the footstool by her side and kneel upon it, then desiring me to bend forward over her knees she put one hand over my body to hold me down; then uncovering my bottom, and taking the rod, which was by her side, she raised her arm and gave me a fearful cut, which made me not only flinch, but cry out most lustily. Blow followed blow, causing at first great agony, that made me cry again in good earnest; then the very continuance of the blows seemed to deaden the parts until I hardly felt them. This was succeeded by a titillation and lascivious excitement which speedily brought my prick out in the fullest vigour. I then began to push it against Miss Frankland's thigh, and to wriggle myself nearly off her knees. Seemingly to prevent this, she passed her left arm quite round my body, bringing her hand under my belly, and, apparently by accident, against my prick, which she grasped, and I could feel her hand pass both up and down it as if she was measuring its length and thickness, continuing all the time to shower down blow after blow on my devoted backside. As she held a firm grasp on my prick, I pretended to be evading the blows, while in reality I was thrusting it in and out of her hand with the utmost energy and excitement, which speedily brought on the delightful crisis, and with a cry of rapture I gave down a copious discharge into her hand, and sank almost senseless on her lap. I pretended complete loss of consciousness, which she believing, she gently felt, and even frigged a little, my prick, pressing me the while close to her body, and then I felt a shudder run through her whole frame. I have no doubt she was in a paroxysm of lust, and had spent, I gave her time to recover a little, and then pretending to come to my senses, but in a confused state of ideas, said— + +"Oh, what has happened? I have been in heaven!" + +Then raising myself, and apparently only just recognising Miss Frankland, I threw my arms round her neck, and exclaimed— + +"Dear Miss Frankland, do flog me again if it will produce again such ecstasies as I never before experienced." + +Her face was flushed, her eye shone with all the fire of libidinous passion. My prick had hardly lost its stiffness when I spent, and was now projecting out firmer than ever. + +"Why, Charles, I thought you a mere boy, while you are quite a man with such a thing as this." + +"Oh!" I cried, "do continue to hold it, you give me such pleasure!" + +"Has anyone else ever held it in this way?" + +"No, I never felt anything like it before." + +"But don't you know what this is meant to do?" + +"Oh, yes, it is what I piddle from." + +She laughed, and asked if it was often in its present state of stiffness. + +"Every morning when I awake it is so, and it hurts me very much until I piddle." + +"And has no one ever taught you any other use of it?" + +"No, what use can it be of?" + +"You dear innocent boy, if I could trust you, I would teach you a secret that this dear thing would greatly enjoy. But can I trust you?" + +"Oh, certainly, dear Miss Frankland, I know what you mean now, to repeat the delicious sensations you gave me a few minutes ago. Oh, do, do! do it again, it was far too nice for me ever to tell anybody, as long as you will do it for me." + +"Well, Charles, I will trust you. Do you know that women are differently formed from you?" + +"Yes, I used to sleep in mamma's room, and I have often been surprised to see that she piddled from a long hole, and had not got a doodle like I have to piddle from." + +"My dear innocent Charlie, that long hole was made to take in this dear fellow here that is throbbing almost to bursting in my hand, and if you promise me faithfully never to tell any one, I will teach you how it is done." + +You may be sure my protestations of secrecy were most earnest. + +"Look here then, my dear boy, and see what I have got between my legs." + +She laid herself back on the long chair, drew up her petticoats, and exhibited to my charmed gaze the wondrous wealth of hair she possessed. Opening her legs, I saw the wide-spread rosy lips showing themselves in beautiful contrast to the coal-black hair that grew in the greatest profusion all round the lower lips, and extended also some five or six inches down the side of each thigh. But what at the moment most astonished me, and drew all my attention, was to see a deep red clitoris standing out from the upper part of her cunt quite stiff, and as long and as thick as the middle finger of a man. I very nearly betrayed myself at the sight, but, fortunately, was able to keep up the character of apparent ignorance I had hitherto shown, and said—"You, also, have got a little doodle to piddle with?" + +She laughed, and said— + +"It is very different from yours. Give me yours here, that I may kiss it." + +She fondled it for a second or two, and then could not resist the impulse to take it into her mouth and suck it. + +"Oh, what pleasure! I shall die!" + +"Not yet, dear boy; kneel down there, and I shall instruct you in the real secret of pleasure." + +But, before she could do anything, I threw my head down, crying out— + +"I must give this pretty little fellow a taste of the pleasure you have just given mine." + +And in an instant I had the delicious thing up to the root in my mouth, sucking furiously at it. Her twistings, and up and down action of her loins, showed how rapturously I was exciting her, in fact, I brought on the crisis, when she pressed my head down hard upon it, and closed her thighs on each side of my head, as she poured over my chin and breast a perfect torrent of sperm. A minute after she seized my arms, and drew me up on her belly, then slipping her hand down between us, she seized my prick and guided him, nothing loath, into her burning hot and foaming cunt. She placed her hands on my buttocks, and pressing me right up to the hilt, began a movement which she told me how to second, that in a very short time brought down an exquisite spend from me. The idea that she was giving me the first lesson in love, and of being the first possessor of my person, seemed to excite her lust to the utmost, and she immediately followed my discharge with another, so copious that it spurted all over my thighs. Her force of pressure on my prick in her agonies of enjoyment was so great as nearly to hurt me. I never knew any one but her with such strength of pressure of cunt on the prick. She has often actually brought tears into my eyes, so powerful was her grip that it made me really feel as if in a vice. She lay back with closed eyes and panting bosom in a rapturous trance of lascivious lubricity, her throbbing cunt holding me tightly pressed between its palpitating folds in the most delicious imprisonment, and from time to time grasping my prick with a pressure that very shortly restored it to its fullest vigour and stiffness. She was as hot as fire and responded immediately to the renewed life she found stirring within me. She gave way to her salacious lust with, if anything, a more passionate excess than the first time. My superb weapon seemed to stir up within her a force of lubricity that nothing could seem to satisfy. Her hands clutched my buttocks convulsively, and seemed to wish to force my whole body into her wildly excited cunt. With such vigour was the action carried on that the grand crisis soon arrived, most rapturous to both, and almost maddening to Miss Frankland. The heavings of her body and gaspings for breath were quite hysterical, while, with one of those real vice-like pressures, I felt as if she were nipping my prick in two. It was not a mere throbbing pressure, but a long continued convulsive squeeze, as if her cunt had been seized like the jaws of the mouth with lock-jaw, and could not open. It was nearly ten minutes before she recovered her senses. She seized my head between her hands, kissed me most lovingly, declared I was the dearest creature that ever lived, that she had never before had any one who had so satisfied her, and filled her with inexpressible rapture, &c. This fondling had again brought up my prick to full stand. Miss Frankland said— + +"Dear Charlie, we must be prudent, as the time is drawing near for your sisters' return." + +But there was no stopping, the exquisite pleasure of her splendid interior cunt pressures was irresistible. My movements speedily determined matters in my favour. Miss Frankland's temperament was far too warm not to quickly set her passions to the highest fucking heat; and again we had a most exquisite fuck, lengthened out more luxuriously by the more urgent fires of desire having been moderated by the three previous discharges. With more abandon we both sank in the death-like ecstasies of the delicious melting away in all the luxury of contented and voluptuous discharges. Miss Frankland lay for some short time luxuriously closing in my delighted prick, but raising her body, she said— + +"Charles, we must cease for the present." + +And, pushing me away, I was forced to withdraw; but her dear cunt seemed as reluctant as myself, and held my prick so tight that I had to pull hard to draw it out, and, at last, he left with a noise like drawing a cork from a well-corked bottle. Before I rose, or she could hinder me, I threw myself down and glued my lips to her reeking cunt, and greedily licked up the foaming sperm that had surged out of her well-gorged quim. She with difficulty drew away her body, but as I rose she clasped me to her bosom and kissed me most fervently, and licked her own sperm off my richly covered lips. Begging me to button up, and putting herself to rights, she desired me to sit down by her side. She wiped my mouth with her handkerchief, arranged my disordered neck-tie, collar, and hair. We then embraced most tenderly, and she thanked me for the immense gratification I had given her; she praised my parts as being of extraordinary development and more satisfying than any she had yet had any experience of. This was the second time she referred to other experiences. I took no notice of this all the time, as if I was supposed to be too ignorant or innocent to think any harm of it, but I determined in some excess of passion to get her to give me a recital of some of her previous experiences. + +Before my sisters came in, she said— + +"I shall try and arrange some means for our meeting unobserved to-morrow. Meanwhile, you must sit as if you had been severely punished, and I shall assert that you had done everything to resist my authority, for which I had punished you further by not allowing you to leave the school-room." + +I said not a word to Miss F. about the ease of meeting by merely opening the door of communication between our rooms. I was afraid to make her suspicious of a former use of it. But I determined, when she came to bed, to rap at the door and beg her to open it, and I had no doubt she would be as delighted as myself to find with what facility she could indulge to the utmost every libidinous passion which her lascivious nature could suggest. My sisters returned, and appeared disappointed that I had not been able to join them, as they had anticipated a glorious fuck or two each, after the whipping had excited me as it did them. They told me afterwards they had been obliged to content themselves with a double mutual gamahuche, but it did not make up for my absence. + +While they were all engaged after tea, I slipped up to Miss Frankland's room to see that the key was in the lock of the door between our two rooms. I opened it, oiled the hinges, and locked it again from her side. I also, with a view to sometimes slipping up to my sisters' room, oiled my own and their doors, hinges, and locks, as now that the ice was broken with Miss Frankland, it would be necessary to be doubly careful not to excite suspicion of my visits to my sisters. Having finished everything to my satisfaction, I joined them in the drawing-room, and while my sisters were playing duets on the piano to mamma, I challenged Miss Frankland to a game of chess. She, of course, was a far superior player to me, but our legs meeting under the chess table, her little charming foot sought mine, rested on it, and pressed it from time to time. This distraction of her ideas enabled me to win two games successively. My mother sent the girls to bed, and told me to follow their example, but as I did not wish to lie long waiting for Miss Frankland's appearance in her bedroom, I pleaded for relaxation in the hour of retiring, to enable Miss Frankland to regain her chance of beating me, at the same time pressing her foot as a sign to her to second my request. She took the hint, though she had no idea of the object. Mamma came near us to look over our game. This induced Miss Frankland to play with more caution and thought, and she won three games in succession, making her the final winner. Mamma now said I must go to bed, as it was very late for me. She still treated me as a child. I, however, had gained my object in obtaining nearly two hours' delay in going to bed, so that I had not long to wait before I heard Miss Frankland enter her room. I determined to let her finish her toilet before I called her attention to me. I watched through my peep-hole, and could now calmly and leisurely see all the beauties of her well-developed form, and the rich wealth of hair she possessed. She went through all her ablutions as usual. I observed she also used a syringe to thoroughly purify the inside of her glorious cunt. When she had dried herself, and was about to pull on her chemise, I rapped on the door of communication, and in a loud whisper called her attention to me. + +"Are you there, Charlie?" + +"Yes, pray unlock the door and open it, that I may come to you." + +She actually had not yet discovered that the door, locked and bolted on her side, communicated with my bedroom, but her delight at the discovery was greater than her surprise. I flew into her arms, and was hugged to her bosom, and covered with kisses. But as my prick was in a bursting state of erection, I drew her to the bed, upon which we both threw ourselves, she on her back, and I above, and in an instant I was engulphed up to the cods in her glorious and glowing cunt, and we ran an eager course of rapturous thrustings, until nature could stand no more, and we sank in all the delights of a most delicious mutual spend. I lay soaking in bliss for some time, and after fondling each other, Miss Frankland said—, + +"Get up, dear Charlie, and let us get into bed." + +For we had been in too great haste to do otherwise than tumble on the top to it. My charming bed-fellow also rose for a necessary purpose, which I had interrupted when I knocked at the door. She sat down on the pot de chambre, and a mighty rush of water followed. I cried— + +"Oh, do let me see you piddle from your beautiful fanny." + +I still kept up my character of innocence, and used none but infantine words in reference to our organs of generation. + +She laughed, but pulled up her shift, and raised her thighs above the pot, so advancing the light, I had the delicious sight of her wide-stretched cunt, pouring out a stream of piddle with great force. Her position brought out all the beauties of the vast wide-spread mass of black curly hair that thickly covered all the lower part of her magnificent quim, ran down each thigh, up between her buttocks, and opening out on her back, had two bunches just below the two beautiful dimples that were so charmingly developed below her waist. There was as much hair there as most women have on their mons Veneris. Her whole body had fine straight silky hair on it, very thick on the shoulders, arms and legs, with a beautiful creamy skin showing below. She was the hairiest woman I ever saw, which, doubtless, arose from or was the cause of her extraordinary lustful and luxurious temperament. The sight I was indulging in brought out my pego in full bloom; as we both rose she saw it sticking out under my shirt. + +"Off with all that, and let me gaze on your charming young perfections." + +I did as she desired, begged her to do the same, and there she stood, in all the glory of her superb form. We encircled each other's naked bodies, and then turned each other round to gaze on all the exciting charms displayed to each other. + +"Come, my darling boy, and let me kiss and fondle you all over." + +She laid me on my back, reversed herself above me, and taking my prick in her mouth, after first feeling it most gently, and praising its large proportions, again declaring it was the finest she had ever seen, she began to gamahuche me with a skill such as I had never before experienced, and gave me the most exquisite and most luxurious delight. For my part, seeing her wonderful clitoris, stiff standing out of the bright red lips of her luscious cunt, I took it bodily into my mouth, sucked it, and rolled my tongue about it, to the evident delight of my salacious companion. Her buttocks rose and fell, and the lips of her cunt immediately before my eyes opened, or closely pressed the lips together, showing the delicious nature of her enjoyment. I felt her put her hand to my bottom and insert her finger, and begin frigging me there. I let her see how it pleased me. She stopped a moment, to beg me to do the same to her, anticipating my earnest desire to do so. I lost no time in following her example. The parts adjacent were well lubricated by our previous indulgence, and first inserting two fingers into her deliciously juicy cunt to moisten them, I slipped one of them into her charming bottom-hole, and finding great ease of space, slipped the second in as well. My other hand and arm embraced and caressed her magnificent backside, which rose and fell on my face with unwearied speed, as my finger frigged her bottom-hole in unison with her movements, and my mouth more closely sucked her stiffly excited clitoris. + +Her whole body became convulsed with erotic movements, showing what force of lubricity our mutual embracings were most rapturously exciting. I, too, grew wild with desire, and was equally energetic in my movements, and would have thrust my prick down her throat but for her hand, which grasped the lower part of the shaft. The rapturous crisis came at last and laid us prostrate with soul-killing ecstasies. We each retained the dear object of our mutual caresses within our lips and our fingers remained within the delightful recesses that had so much contributed to the excessive raptures we had enjoyed. We lay for some time in this sweet languid enjoyment. Miss Frankland then rose from off me, saying— + +"My darling boy, we must now get into bed." We did so, quite naked as we were, closely embracing, and covering each other with kisses and caresses, murmuring soft terms of endearment, and in whispered accents told of the ecstatic joys each had given the other. Our hands wandered over every charm. Miss Frankland had an art of gently passing her fingers over my prick that had the instant effect of raising him into the fullest vigour. It was the most exquisite method of feeling my cock I ever experienced. She seemed scarcely to touch it, but drew her fingers along its length, from foot to head, with a delicacy of touch I have never found equalled by any other woman. The effect was magical, and invariable, no matter how many times I might have fucked her before. With her hot temperament, and excessive lubricity, it was almost a necessary art. She was one of those libidinous natures that could well employ several men at once. At my happy age, she found ready to her hand one who could respond to her every desire in every way, so happily does nature second youth and health that she never found me wanting, when called on. There was no excess of lubricity we did not afterwards practise. We satisfied our passions in every way in which they could be indulged, nor did we hesitate at any thing which imagination could fancy would stimulate them. She was surprised at my aptitude, and rejoiced and congratulated herself on having found so powerful and charming a satisfier of her libidinous nature. How delighted she was to think she was the first to cull the sweets of my innocence, and how happy to find so apt a scholar, who in one sweet lesson became a master of the art. The more I gained experience of the charming sex, the more I appreciated the wisdom of the counsels of my really first and ever loved mistress, dear, charming, lovely Mrs. Benson. How truly she had foretold that all who might hereafter think that they were giving me the first lesson in love would doubly, trebly, a hundred fold enjoy the sweet intercourse from such self-deception. Here was my fiery Miss Frankland, who had had considerable experience in the amatory world, pluming herself upon instructing an innocent youth in all the mysteries of the passions for the first time. It evidently added immensely to her excitement. Indeed, in our after-conversation, she avowed that as it was the first time she had ever taken the maidenhead of a youth, so it had been the greatest degree of excitement she had ever experienced. I might fancy her delight at finding combined with such a satisfaction a wonderfully well-hung youth, and who proved so apt, and so equal to every luxurious whim that the most erotic lust could suggest. But I digress. At present, her magic touch had brought me up to bursting point, she threw a leg over me, and raising her body, said she would help herself this time. Guiding my prick to the wanton lips that were longing for him, she sank slowly down on the stiff pole on which she was so delightedly impaling herself, until our hairs were crushed beneath her weight, and nothing more could be engulphed. She again rose, until the edge of the nut showed itself at the mouth of her cunt, and then as slowly sheathed it again. She continued this exquisite movement for some time, to our delicious mutual enjoyment, then falling down on my belly, and telling me to pass my arm round her bottom and finger her as before, she glued herself to my lips, our tongues interlaced, and shot in and out of our luxurious mouths; our movement grew fast and furious, until we again sank in all the luxury of the last grand crisis. It was the very act of voluptuous rapture, and we lay lost to every sense but that of erotic ecstasy and satisfied lust. When we recovered our senses, she lay down by my side, cuddling me most closely, and toying and prattling, until she thought we had paused long enough. She slid her hand down to my prick, and very quickly, by her delicious and delicate handling of it, renewed its full vigour. Throwing her right leg over me, while lying on her back, she heaved up her body into a position half turned to my belly, I lying on my side; she then bid me embrace her other thigh between mine, then guiding cockey to the entrance, she gave a push backwards, to meet my forward thrust, when it was instantly sheathed to the hilt. + +"Now, my darling boy, in this way we can lengthen out our pleasures as long as we please; you can make me spend oftener than yourself, which will satisfy my very lustful nature, and not over exhaust your young powers." + +Giving one or two delicious side wriggles to her bottom, and nestling her backside close to my belly, she told me to pass my left arm under her waist that I might embrace her left bubby and finger its nipple, a proceeding which she told me was as exciting as playing with her clitoris—then turning her head, our tongues interlaced; she put my right hand down to her stiff-projecting clitoris, which I continued to frig just as I might have done to a boy's cock. Keeping up a slow in and out movement with my prick, excited by so many points of lascivious friction, she spent most copiously before I was prepared to join her. Her head sank back in the ecstasy of her discharge, drawing away from me, and leaving my mouth free. I instantly dropped it upon her other firm and elastic bubby, at which I sucked away, pushing my prick as far as possible into her cunt, and leaving it there, without movement, to enjoy the rapture-giving pressures of her delicious cunt, slowly passing my hand up and down her still sufficiently indured clitoris. She lay for some time in the luxurious enjoyment of the position, then once more sucking my lips, she thanked me over and over again for the pleasure I had given her, heightened as it was by knowing that it had not exhausted me. I began to move slowly in and out, keeping up my movements at the other points of excitement. She was ready on the instant to second me, and as she meant this time that we should spend together she left nothing to desire. Her movements were of the most exciting and stimulating description, and we were not long before the ecstatic moment arrived, and we sank in the lap of luxury, pouring forth streams of ecstatic bliss. We lay close locked in the most delicious embrace, only conscious of unutterable joy. It was some time before we could venture to break this exquisite trance of enjoyment. It was followed by the sweetest toyings and prattlings, until again my delighted prick, stimulated by the internal pressures of the luxurious sheath in which it had remained engulphed, again awoke her scarce-slumbering passions to dash on pleasure's heavenly course. Again she spent before me with, if anything, increased rapture, and, after a pause, renewing her lascivious movements in response to my own, we sank in a perfect death-like swoon of thoroughly satiated lust, and gradually and imperceptibly fell into the deepest slumber for many hours, locked as we were in each other's arms. Her wonderfully retentive power of cunt held my happy prick a willing prisoner through our long sleep. I awoke first, to find it standing stiff within the charmed circle which even in her sleep was deliciously grasping it with its nervous folds. I passed my hand down to her clitoris, and began fucking her. She heaved her bottom up and down, and murmured some incoherent words, being evidently still under the influence of sleep, and probably dreaming of some former events, for in her half expressed murmurings, I could make out something— + +"Henry—my only—ever loved one—meet again—oh! how ineffable—how exquisitely delicious. Do push it in—more faster—beloved of my soul." + +She clasped me with a hug, as if she would make but one body of us both, and spent with a scream of agonized delight, pouring down and spurting out a perfect torrent of boiling spunk all over my cods and thighs. + +"Dearest, beloved Henry, it is too much," she uttered, and fainted away. + +I lay quite still, and determined not to speak until she should come to herself. It was evident her dreams had brought back some former loved and happy man and no doubt the fact of my being in possession, in full fuck, had made her believe in the reality of her sleeping thoughts. She was quite a quarter of an hour before recovering her senses; daylight had broken, and she looked round in a sort of alarm, and exclaimed— + +"Where am I?" + +Then her eye catching my face— + +"Oh! my darling Charlie, it is you! I have been dreaming of being far away, and, I suppose, the fact of your dear weapon throbbing within me made me think of former events. Well, the dream had its pleasures, if only in a dream." + +"It was no dream, my dear Miss Frankland, or at least, only partially so, as far as regarded your loved Henry—for that was the name you applied to me, and most deliciously did you embrace me under the idea, and die away in an excess of pleasure I quite envied; but you alarmed me by really fainting afterwards. I am so pleased to have turned a mere vision of the night into ecstatic reality, and I am not at all jealous of your former lover, because had you not had any, you would, probably, never have loved me. Oh, no! I should never be jealous of you my dear mistress. I would even like to see you in all the ecstasies of passion, in the arms of another, provided that I should share in your delights." + +She listened in an astonishment, acknowledged that she had imagined herself in the arms of one she had greatly loved, and had thought the whole affair was a dream, and was not conscious of its absolute reality as to her being fucked. + +"Well, I must have mine now, feel how it is bursting for relief." + +"Yes, yes, the dear fellow, push him away, my Charlie, and you will see, I shall enjoy the real Charlie quite as much as the dreamt-of Henry—of whom I shall some day speak to you. You are worthy of him and of me—and I fear I shall love you as I do him, far too dearly." + +Then lending herself to the work we were at, she did, indeed, exert all her lascivious power, and we enjoyed such a fuck as seldom falls to mortals here below. We lay prostrate and panting with satisfied lust, until prompted by the urgency of natural wants we were both obliged to rise and relieve ourselves. My darling mistress then used her bidet and told me to lave my parts in the basin, as it was not only cool and refreshing, but also reinvigorating. After which as it was now broad daylight, she allowed me to pose her, and turn her in every position, that I might admire and handle every part of her superb form. Her bottom was larger and harder than any I had yet seen, and, indeed, excepting one, of which, dear reader you will presently hear something, it was about the finest in form and size of any I ever met with. Of course, this handling was not effected without producing erotic excitement in both parties. Miss Frankland had occupied herself as much with me as I had done with her, and her beautifully large clitoris was showing its head in full stand out from among the vast mass of bushy curls surrounding it. I proposed we should have a mutual suck on the floor, with her bottom to the light, that I might have a full view of all her glorious parts. She humoured my fancy, and pulling a couple of pillows off the bed to prop up my head, she stepped across my body, and kneeling down, took my prick in her mouth, and brought her splendid backside and lascivious cunt down to my face. I first glued my lips to the open cunt, thrust my chin in, and then my tongue, as far as I could reach, licking the luscious moisture which our previous handlings had excited; it was as sweet and delicious as cream. This stimulated her very much, and she closed the sides of her cunt upon my tongue so closely as to give it a good squeeze. I never saw a woman but her, who had such a wonderful power in that way. My nose actually felt it was reciprocating the pressures of the cunt, so I changed the venue, and slipped my tongue into her bottom-hole, evidently to her excessive delight. But things were approaching a crisis, and she cried to me to take her clitoris in my mouth, and substitute fingers in both the other orifices. This I quickly did, while she sucked and postillioned me, handling the root of my prick, and my buttocks with the delicious gentle titillations in which she had such skill, until, in an excess of joy, we both poured a tribute of sperm into each other's mouths, and both greedily swallowed it. After this we got into bed again, to have one loving cuddle before parting. Of course, it ended in raising such a storm of desire as a fuck could only allay—she said— + +"My loved Charlie, this must really be the last." + +I told her it had so excited me to see her splendid bum before my eyes when we were on the floor that I should like to kneel behind and put it in that way. I really meant into her cunt, but she thought I meant her bottom-hole, and said— + +"Well, you are a strange boy, what on earth made you think you could put that great big thing of yours into my bottom-hole; but, to tell you the truth, after being well fucked, I rather like it that way, so you shall try, but you must be gentle in getting in." + +I said, "I did not know I could do it that way with my prick, I meant to put it into your cunt from behind, but now, from what you say, I should like to try what the other is like." + +You see, I was keeping up my apparent ignorance. She turned on her face, and keeping her head on the pillow, drew up her knees to her belly and exposed to the greatest advantage her glorious backside. I knelt behind, but previous to beginning, I glued my lips to the delicious orifice, and shoved my tongue in as far as I could, and deliriously excited her. Then approaching my stiff-standing prick, and thrusting it into her cunt up to the roots two or three times, so as thoroughly to lubricate it, I withdrew and placed it before the smaller temple of lust; then, by a gentle uniform pressure, I gradually and almost imperceptibly glided in to the utmost extent. She pushed her bottom out, and, I could feel, was straining as if to void something, which is the real method to accelerate the entrance of a prick in that enchanting channel with the least difficulty and pain. We then commenced a slow movement—she wanted me to stoop forward and place my arm round her body, and frig her clitoris, but I begged her to do it herself, and allow me the luxury of looking on the delightful wriggling of her superb backside, and also the sight of my own prick surging in and then withdrawing. She humoured me, and we had a most exquisite fuck. Her bottom-hole had hardly so tight a pressure as she could exercise with her cunt, but, nevertheless, it held me in very firmly, and had a peculiar heat which was most exciting. We both died off together, she so completely overcome with ecstatic delight that her body sank flat on the bed, drawing me with her, without unsheathing my weapon. We lay for a short period, she convulsively shuddering from time to time with the intense degree of excitement this delicious route had produced upon her. At last she begged me to rise and relieve her. As we must now separate, I rose. She assisted me in my ablutions, put on my night-shirt, conducted me to my bed, fondly kissed and thanked me for the exquisite night of every species of delight I had conferred upon her, promising a repetition the following night. She left me and locked the door of communication, but previously unlocked mine, in case I should oversleep myself. + +Thus ended the first delightful night I ever passed with that most charming and deliciously lascivious woman—the first of many scores that followed, but in none of which were her raptures more intense, if as much. She ever after dwelt on the night when she had been the happy means of initiating me into all love's mysteries, for she never knew of my previous experiences, and always plumed and prided herself on being my first instructress. + +The next day I was somewhat somnolent, of which you may be sure Miss Frankland took no notice. She retired to her own room when we went for our recreation. My sisters scolded me for not coming to them the previous night, but I told them that Miss F. had continued to move about her room for so long a time that I had fallen fast asleep, and even then had not had enough, as they might have observed how sleepy I had been all day. However, to satisfy them, I gamahuched them both, and fucked them both while each was giving the other a second gamahuche, so that then each spent three times to my twice. I thus kept in my forces for the renewed delights I anticipated at night. I went to bed early and slept soundly at once, having no anxiety about keeping awake, feeling certain that Miss F. would awaken me as soon as she was ready to take me to her arms. She came, and we passed another most delicious night of every salacious and libidinous enjoyment. A third night followed, which differed only in the lascivious proposition of Miss Frankland to deflower my bottom-hole with her wonderfully prominent and elongated clitoris, little dreaming that there, too, she had been anticipated by our loved and charming friend MacCallum. She had, however, all the imaginary pleasure of first possession. As you may well suppose, I did not attempt in any way to enlighten her ignorance thereon. We had gamahuched each other, I had fucked her twice in the cunt and once in her bottom-hole, when the fancy seized her to bugger me with her clitoris. Of course, I made no objection; on the contrary, sucking it up to a proper stiffness, I placed myself on my hands and knees in the most favourable position to satisfy her erotic fancy. She first slipped her tongue into my bottom-hole, then spit upon her clitoris, and then anointed my aperture with the delicious slime of her well-fucked cunt, and then with the utmost ease pushed the dear thing up to its utmost limits. I humoured her in every way, wriggling my bottom sideways, which she declared was a vast improvement on her back and forward movements. She passed her arm round my belly, and with that exquisitely delightful touch on my prick for which she was so distinguished, she excited me to the utmost, making my sphincter ani respond to the throbbings of my exquisitely delighted prick, and equally exciting her lascivious passions with the idea of first possession of that narrow abode of voluptuousness. She could feel by the electric excitement of my prick how near I was to spending, and quickening the action of hand and clitoris, we both died away together in all the raptures that such an extra exciting conjunction could produce. + +Several nights thus passed in the indulgence of every form of the most lascivious enjoyment. We used to amuse our moments of relaxation in trying who could suggest any new position or varied manner of effecting the delicious junction of our bodies. On one occasion, recurring to the state of excitement her flogging had thrown me into, I asked her, as if I did not know the fact very well already, if the application of the rod on the bottom of a woman, or the mere act of being flogged, at all excited her sex. She told me both acted with great force on her erotic nerves. She thought, from experience, that being whipped caused the greatest excitement and produced the greatest longing to be fucked. + +"Then," said I, "do you think it had erotically excited my sisters?" + +"Certainly, especially your sister Eliza. I do not know whether you noticed her sudden impulse to embrace and kiss me after her return to school work the day I flogged her; that was a stray erotic impulse, and had we been alone, I could not have avoided responding to it in a way that would have delighted her, and initiated her into some of the delicious mysteries of venery. Nay, I think, but for my happy discovery of your great and delightful merits, I should have sought for and found an opportunity of being alone with that dear girl, for you must know we can lasciviously embrace our own sex with immense mutual pleasure, and although not equal to that which this noble fellow"—(taking hold of my prick)—"inspires, is not without its merit, and even as a little variety from time to time is very enticing." + +"Then, I suppose, you still have some hankerings after the virgin charms of dear Lizzie?" + +"I have, and what is more, I believe both Mary's and her passions have already developed themselves. I have sometimes fancied I heard suppressed sighs and gentle movements going on in their beds, and I shrewdly suspect they were practising masturbation on each other. I did not interfere, and after what has passed between you and me, I will tell you that I had a little plan in my head to let them proceed to such lengths that when I chose to make the discovery they would be at my mercy. I then could initiate them in every lascivious and voluptuous delight that woman can have with woman. The happy discovery of your excellences, and the perfect facility my change of room has given for meeting without the slightest chance of discovery, has for the present driven that idea out of my head. I am, however, indebted to it for the change of room, as I asked for it solely to leave the two girls the utmost liberty to indulge in their voluptuous mutual enjoyments, certain that it would increase and give them every desire for the further instruction I could impart to them." + +"I suppose you would have fucked them with this dear stiff little thing?" said I. + +"Oh, yes, you darling, but you have so excited me talking about it, that you must fuck me directly." + +We indulged in a most exciting fuck, and when recovered from the confusion of ideas the delightful crisis always produces, we resumed our conversation on the interesting subject of my sisters. I observed that she had not lately flogged them again. + +"All your fault; I am now so satisfied with you that I no longer seek for relief to pent-up desires in that way." + +"Tell me, dear Miss Frankland, did flogging my sisters excite you much?" + +"It did, even to spending; but the fear of proceeding further with them at that time rendered me ferocious. The very severity I used was as it were in revenge for stopping short of other salacious embraces, but if once I had gone so far as to make them partakers of my lubricity, I should never have flogged them again so severely, but only to such a gentle extent as would raise their passions to an uncomfortable pitch, rendering them slaves to my burning lust. Even now I have, from time to time, a desire to do so, especially with dear Eliza, as I think she had far more of venereal lust in her nature than Mary. You would not object, dear Charlie?" + +"Not in the least, if you will only give me the voluptuous satisfaction of hearing all the details from your lips afterwards; it would stimulate us both to additional raptures, and spur our desires to renewed combats." + +"I don't think it wants much to do that; your glorious prick is as hard as iron." + +"It was the lascivious idea of your enjoying Lizzie that made it get up, but I must fuck you again or it will burst." + +"I, too, my dear boy, am inflamed at the idea; put it in behind this time; I have a great letch in that way at this moment." + +I did as I was directed, and so great was the agony of delight when we died away that she sank on the bed dragging me after her, and we lay almost insensible, soaking in bliss for quite half an hour. We did not again renew our conversation that night, but I determined to push her forward to carry out her idea, and also to give Lizzie a hint to second her wishes in every way, without giving her any idea of what had passed between Lizzie and me, and being equally reserved as to my nightly connection with Miss Frankland. + +The following night we passed again in all the amatory delights we could imagine. After our deep midnight sleep, which always took place locked in each other's arms, and poor cockey held firm as if in a vice, I awoke her first, and found my prick stiff-standing in her cunt, which was involuntarily pressing it in the delicious interior folds. I began moving gently, until she was so excited as to quite wake up, when she joined me in all the raptures of a delicious and voluptuous fresh morning fuck. We then rose to satisfy natural wants, and cool our excited nerves by a copious ablution. As we were returning to bed, I observed that Miss Frankland took something out of her wardrobe wrapped up in a handkerchief, and placed it under her pillow with a certain air of mystery. I said nothing. After purifying ourselves we always indulged in a voluptuous gamahuche; after which Miss Frankland generally asked, as a favour, that I should finish off in culo. I loved her delicious bottom-hole too dearly ever to refuse. She placed herself as usual on her knees, thighs well drawn up, and head down, so as to make the most of her glorious backside. After I had followed the usual preamble of thrusting in and out of her luscious and juicy cunt so as to lubricate my prick well, I then introduced it, always with the slow and gradual pressure, until it was sheathed to the hilt, when we generally paused some minutes to reciprocate mutual throbs and pressures. In this lascivious pause I saw her hand steal under the pillow, and draw out the handkerchief and put it under her belly. I shortly found a considerable substance entering her cunt, and making my quarters still more tight and narrow. I began to move, and found the substance in the other entrance keeping time to my movements. I had a tight hold of her projecting clitoris, which I had frigged up to a stiff-standing point. I slipped my hand down and found she was dildoing herself with what proved to be a very handsome dildo, in not very formidable proportions. + +"That's right, my darling," I cried, "why did you not do it openly, you ought to know that my greatest wish is for you to enjoy these salacious meetings in every possible voluptuous manner; frig on then, my beloved, and be sure that if it adds to your delight it adds to mine." + +"Thank you, my darling Charlie, shove away, I am in the seventh heaven of delight in having as good as two pricks working in me at once." + +She would have explained more, but her words were cut short by the ecstasies the double fuck produced, and she spent copiously before me, on finding which I held back, and was rewarded by making her spend eventually with the utmost excess of delight twice to my once. By this time it was broad daylight, and too late in the morning to enter into any conversation on the new partner in our amatory combats, which was reserved for the next meeting. + +This did not occur so soon as we expected, for that day Miss Frankland's flowers declared themselves. It was a fortunate thing for me that she had them at the period of the new moon, and as Mary had them at the full, it enabled me to dedicate a night or two to my beloved sisters, who considered I had been neglecting them of late. I said I had not felt very well, and that I began to think that our excessive fucking was becoming too much for me; that they must remember I was one to two, and I felt if I continued to overexert myself I should break down and fail altogether. + +"That would never do, dear Charlie, and it is very true you do twice our work and more, because we don't pour down such a torrent as you do when we spend; you must take care of yourself, we will not be so exacting in future, but cool ourselves first by a mutual gamahuche between Lizzie and me." + +I thus arranged a certain amount of cessation of fucking in that quarter that I might dedicate the more to the far more exciting powers of the delicious and salacious Miss Frankland. + +I had always remained in my own bed until I heard her heavy breathing, denoting that she slept, before I dared to leave my own room to go to my sisters. The desire of racking me off, as dear charming Mrs. Benson used to call it, might have seized her, and my absence would have discovered all. + +However, she had, no doubt, considered that it would be all to her advantage that I should be left perfectly quiet to recruit my system, after the heavy drain on my amatory resources which she had kept up for the previous fortnight. She never sought in any way to excite me until a day and a night after the cessation of her menses. She told me it was much better to have done with it entirely at once, rather than by erotic excitement keep up the discharge for a week or more. + +"And it is not, my dear Charlie, from any want of randy lust on my part, for, especially at first, there is an extreme desire to be well laboured by the biggest prick one could find in existence; the natural irritation of the parts seem to be increased by the way in which the sensual system is affected in that quarter. Former experience has taught me that it is much better to bear this, than by seeking for erotic excitement to keep up the natural discharge for twice as long as it would otherwise endure. Besides which, there would have been a danger of affecting your dear health. Sometimes conjunctions, at such a period, produce a urethral irritation very prejudicial to a man, and such as might deprive me of the delight of your embraces for some weeks. So you see, my own beloved boy, that in every way it is prudent to avoid any amorous excitement at such a period, however hard nature may press for venereal relief. Some women hazard all this, and for a momentary gratification, run risks perfectly unwarrantable, not only for themselves, but above all for their lovers. I, too, my darling, have had my day of imprudence, and knowing the result, I should be both cruel and stupidly insensate to let you run the risk of what already occurred." + +As she recounted those sage counsels, I could not but remember my loved Mrs. Benson, whose advice had been of such service to me, and here was another loved mistress instructing me in further matters connected with the sex. It certainly was a stroke of great good fortune for me to have met at so early an age two such admirable women, not only most amorous and lascivious, but instructing me in the real knowledge of their sex, and the world, at the very time that they were indulging my every lascivious desire, as well as their own. Mistresses of their art, no mystery in love's catalogue of excitements, and of means of gratifying the same, was unknown to them. But they knew, too, how to inculcate wisdom for future conduct. I owe every amatory success of my after-life to the admirable teachings of these two charming and estimable women. + +The next night, after we had sacrificed sufficiently often to Venus to enable us more calmly to resume the delightful discussion on the various ways of pampering and exciting the passions, I turned the conversation on flogging; for to take you, dear reader, into my confidence, I was seized with an uncontrollable letch to flog the superb bottom of my loved mistress. I had often seen it palpitating under the vigorous attacks of my stiff-standing pego, while belabouring either of the delicious entrances to the temples of lust. I had often given her glorious bottom good sound slaps of the hand, but I longed to apply to it in earnest a good birch rod, see it flush to a raw meat hue, and then to shove my prick with the utmost force into either or both of the delicious orifices. I thought the best way of arriving at this desired object was to recur to her own description of a less severe flogging exciting the passions with pain; and as she had also admitted that it excited her equally to be flogger or flogee, I proposed that she should exercise a gentle discipline on my bottom, to try its efficacy. She jumped at the idea, but there was no rod in her room, perforce the ceremony was put off until the next night. On that occasion, she advised me first to indulge in every excess of lubricity, and when nature should begin to flag, then the real efficacy of the rod would be experienced. She aided me with the utmost skill in every act of most voluptuous and luxurious venery, and we mutually poured down six tributes to our blessed Mother Venus, with very little cessation, for we both wished to feel somewhat exhausted, before trying the effects of the birching system. We lay quiet for a short time, and then dear Miss Frankland began exciting me, but only in an ordinary way. My prick had already been too well satiated with the previous encounters to respond at once to the calls made on it. + +"Ah," said she, in her sweetest way, "I see we want the rod here. Prepare yourself, sir, and take care to make no resistance, or it will be the worse for your bottom." + +Following her cue, I began to implore pity, to promise I would behave better in short time, etc., etc. But she was inexorable, and ordered me to lie across her knees. Then, taking me round the waist, she gave a smart cut or two, really sharp, that made me for the moment wince. + +"Take care, sir, you are resisting, and you know your punishment will be severe, if you so continue." + +"Forgive me, mistress dear, and I will never do so again." + +"We shall see." + +Cut three, sharp, though not so severe. I did not flinch. "Ah! that is something like a good boy, now we shall have no difficulty." + +She began a series of less and less severe blows, until it ended in a gentle irritable titillation which very shortly began to show its effects by the stiffness of my pego—fiercely shoving against the naked thigh of my loved castigator, who, passing a hand round my body, laid hold of it, delighted to find how efficacious her proceedings had been. Pretending to be quite exhausted, she sank back on the bed, and said she could do no more. I sprang upon her, and we had two more coups without withdrawing, with the greatest excess of voluptuousness. It was now my turn, and as she let me slip out of her delicious cunt, I took that up as a cause of dissatisfaction. + +"What! you naughty girl," I cried, "is that the way you treat your master, bundling him out of his room in that manner; here, give me the rod, I must make your bottom pay for your ill conduct—here, kneel on this footstool, and lay your body over my thighs, no resistance, or it will be the worse for you." + +"Oh! pray, sir, do forgive me this time," and she knelt at my side, and pretended to cry. I forced her down, and she presented her glorious backside, in all its splendour of rotundity and size, before my delighted gaze. I seized her round the waist, and first gloated my sight with all the full and lascivious charms, not only displayed, but in my power, and I armed with a splendid rod. I gave her two or three sharp cuts, which made her beauteous buttocks wriggle, but called forth no remonstrances; but as I continued, in all the rage of lust the exercise excited, to flog away most severely, she begged me to be somewhat more gentle. But I flogged on with increased vigour, until she began to writhe under the severity of the punishment I was inflicting. She struggled fiercely, at last, to be free, but she was completely in my power, and I did not spare her until I saw that, changing from severe pain, her feelings were turning to a storm of lechery and lust. She became frantic with excitement, and screamed out— + +"Cease, darling Charlie, and fuck me directly. I am dying for it." + +I threw down the rod, jumped on the bed, and drew up her loins, so that she was placed in a kneeling position; she herself seized my bursting prick, and carried it to the lips of her cunt, where he instantly engulphed himself to the hilt. Her movements became lascivious beyond expression, and were urged with a vigour, which brought down in a very short time a torrent of sperm from both of us. We were too much excited to stop short, and almost without a pause, a second course was run still more voluptuously. She was not even then satisfied, but making me lie on my back, she reversed herself upon me, and we commenced a mutual gamahuche. I succeeded in making her spend again, and she was able to bring my pego up to a standing point. + +"Now, Charlie, dear, we must finish off behind." + +So getting again on her hands and knees, she guided my willing prick to the narrower abode of felicity. After first steeping it for a moment in the moisture of her foaming and reeking cunt, I thrust it into her bottom-hole. I seized hold of her clitoris, she had her dildo all ready, and working it herself with one hand, we ran a last course of most lustful and lecherous enjoyment, which ended in such killing raptures that we both sank all but insensible on the bed. Exhausted as we were by the wild excesses we had indulged in, we fell, without moving or regaining our senses, into a deep and profound slumber, until almost too late in the morning, so that I had to regain my room the moment we awoke, without attempting any further amorous toyings. Thus ended my first experiences as a flogger. The sensation was so new, and the temptation to lay on with a vengeance was so great, that I had gone beyond all reasonable bounds in inflicting such a severe punishment on the glorious bum of my beloved Miss Frankland. I must, however, do her the justice to say that she comprehended and excused the feelings under which I acted, only begging me, on any future occasion not to let them carry me away so far as they had done on this. We several times renewed this bum flogging, but with more moderate inflictions—sufficient to highly excite without actually punishing the patient, whichever of us it might be. + +We often after this made flogging the theme of our discussions, and I gradually led on to the idea she had expressed of Lizzie's evidently amorous disposition. She still affirmed that such was her conviction. I then suggested that it would be worth her while to try and gratify it, as well for Lizzie's sake as for the satisfaction of her own letch in that way. + +"I suppose you could easily find a pretext if you desired to do so?" + +"Yes, easily enough, the idea excites me, and I shall indulge it." + +I do not remember what the pretext was, but Lizzie was kept in next afternoon at four o'clock—Mary and I proceeded to the summer house. I knew we should not be interrupted by Lizzie, and that I need not hold in for her satisfaction. So I gave Mary all the benefit of our being alone, and we had four most exquisite and refined indulgencies in every attitude admitted of by the legitimate entrance to love's temple. For, as yet, I had never been able to gain an entrance to the narrower orifice, which was too small for my formidable weapon to penetrate. It is odd how easily Lizzie accommodated me in her delicious bottom-hole, while Mary, older and more womanly in form, was as yet unable to make room for me in that strait path of bliss. When night came I was all curiosity to know how my dear mistress had carried on matters with Lizzie. She told me that Lizzie had been somewhat nervous at first, but she had spoken kindly to her, told her how her amiable and loving conduct after her first whipping had won her affection; that she did not mean to be so severe as on the former occasion, but that discipline must be kept up. + +"So come, my dear girl, drop off your frock, as I shall mine, that the bundle of clothes may be out of the way, as well as to avoid their being creased." + +Seeing that Lizzie still trembled a little after she had dropped her gown, she took her in her arms, and kissing her lovingly, desired her not to be afraid—she would not punish her much. + +"Lift up all your things, my dear, and let me see if any marks of the former punishment remain." + +Lizzie had a very prominent and very promising bottom. Miss Frankland felt it all over, and admired loudly its form and firmness, declaring it was quite beautiful to look at, and how womanly it was growing. + +"Turn round, and let me see if you are as womanly in front. Upon my word, a well-formed mount with a charming mossy covering." + +Her hand wandering over her form excited Lizzie, whose face flushed and eyes glistened with rising desires. Miss Frankland herself became moved, but proceeded at once to lay her across her lap, and began with gentle switches, just sufficiently sharp to attract the blood in that direction, which, of course, acted with double force on all the already excited erotic organs, and Lizzie began to wriggle her bum in all the lasciviousness of lust under the excited gaze of Miss Frankland, who, seeing how matters were going on in her favour, increased the force of her blows, but only sufficiently to still more lecherously excite her patient—until, driven to an excess of lust, she cried out— + +"Oh, my loved Miss Frankland, I am dying with pleasure, do embrace and caress me." + +Miss Frankland lifted her up, and drew her to her bosom and lips, and, while sucking her tongue, slipped her hand down and found Lizzie's quim wet with her flowing spunk, and her little clitoris stiff with the erotic passion that was consuming her. She frigged her until she spent again, while their tongues were in each other's mouth. As Lizzie spent, Miss F. shoved a finger up her cunt, which, of course, met with no resistance, but as Lizzie possessed in perfection the art of nipping, she was sufficiently tight to leave a doubt of anything but finger-fucking. + +"Ah, you little puss, you have been playing with this before now, tell me the truth?" + +"I will tell you everything, if you will only play with me again. Ever since you flogged Mary and myself, we have both been so often burning down there, and have found out that feeling it, and pushing fingers in, was so nice, although at first we often hurt ourselves. But you do it so much better than Mary—oh, do, do it again, dear Miss Frankland!" + +"I shall do it much better, my darling, with what I have got down there—look here!" + +And, lifting up her petticoat and chemise, she exposed, to the absolute astonishment of Lizzie, her extraordinary mass of hair, and her fiery red clitoris glowing and sticking out of its black mass of curls. + +"How beautiful!" cried Lizzie. "I declare, you have got a doodle, for which I have been so longing; I must kiss it." + +Stooping down, she took it in her mouth, and sucked it. + +"Stop, dear Lizzie, we shall both enjoy it." + +Taking the cushion from the chair, she lay down on her back on the floor, telling Lizzie to turn her face the other way, and to kneel down across her body, so that both their mouths could adapt themselves to each other's quim. + +Lizzie told me afterwards that she took care to show no previous knowledge, but to let Miss Frankland apparently initiate her into all the ceremonies of gamahuching. + +Miss Frankland glued her lips to dear Lizzie's charming quim, while Lizzie took her extraordinary clitoris into her mouth. After a few ardent caresses Miss Frankland pushed a finger up Lizzie's bottom-hole, then paused an instant to tell Lizzie not only to follow her example in that respect, but to use her other hand in her quim while sucking her clitoris. Then, both adapting themselves as prescribed, they gamahuched on, until both could no longer move from the excessive raptures produced by their profuse discharge. After this first bout Lizzie became curious to see all the wonderful hair-covered organ and limbs of Miss Frankland, who gratified her to the utmost extent of her wishes. Nor did she leave this inspection entirely to Lizzie, but reciprocated it. Undoing her dress above, she uncovered the charming budding beauties of Lizzie's bubbies, and began sucking the nipples. Their mutual caresses and handlings very quickly refired these hot and lecherous women. After a little renewed gamahuching, until both were wild with excitement, Miss Frankland proposed to put her clitoris into Lizzie's quim; told her to kneel down, and kneeling behind her, she sheathed it with ease in the hot and juicy folds of Lizzie's beautiful cunt. Passing her hand under Lizzie's belly, she frigged her clitoris until again nature gave down her delicious tribute, and they sank in all the voluptuous languor that follows. A third time they renewed their salacious and lascivious raptures, then resumed their dresses so as to be ready to receive us. Miss Frankland begged Lizzie to keep her counsel and not reveal, even to Mary, what had passed. But Lizzie urged Miss F. to admit Mary into the new mysteries she had just herself been taught, and said she could assure her that Mary had a far more beautiful body than hers, and would like it quite as well as she did. + +"Well, my dear, I shall think of it, and find an occasion to flog her, as I have done you." + +"Oh, that will be jolly!" cried Lizzie. "She will like it just as much as I do; it is so nice, you must flog me every day, dear Miss Frankland. I loved you from the first, I adore you now." + +They embraced most lovingly, but our return put an end for the present to any further conversation. + +These details were accompanied and interrupted by two or three delicious and most voluptuous fucks, without once withdrawing my burning prick from her equally heated and throbbing cunt—for her description of these proceedings was most exciting. When she had finished, I withdrew, that we might gamahuche each other, and lick up all the delicious spunk in which her juicy cunt abounded. We then renewed our combats, sacrificing to holy Mother Venus in both orifices. Then we slept as only easy-conscienced people like ourselves could sleep; and, like giants refreshed by slumber, renewed our devotions on every altar before separating in the morning. + +Two days later Mary was initiated by Miss Frankland in a like manner to Lizzie, while Lizzie and I made the most of our time in the summer house. Excited by her naive description of her scene with Miss Frankland, we indulged in every salacious device that we could cram into the hour's absence, which, by the way, we lengthened out by more than a quarter of an hour, for which Miss Frankland thanked me at night. Her scene with Mary had been one of even greater lubricity, in consequence of Mary at once lending herself to everything, and acknowledging that she knew from Lizzie what she had to expect. Besides, Mary's more developed form and something about her greatly excited Miss F., and she was quite amorous upon her. She had done so much in the way of spending, that after I had gamahuched and fucked her two entrances three times, she required the stimulus of the rod to bring her up to the highest point of lascivious lubricity. And, to tell the truth, I afterwards required and received it myself. Thus our voluptuous passions acted one on the other, and we passed an exhausting night in every excess and refinement of venery, in which Miss Frankland's dildoes, for she had two, of different sizes, played no small part in both our persons. + +Now that the ice was broken, I easily persuaded Miss F. to have occasionally first one and then the other of my sisters to sleep with her, alleging that an occasional early night's rest would recruit my powers, and that when she dismissed her bedfellow in the morning, I could finish her off in force; she could thus initiate them in mutual floggings, and in the use of dildo. Of course, I need not say that my ultimate object was to succeed in our making it a general orgie. In this indeed it ended, but not exactly as I had intended. That mattered not, as long as the desired object was attained. I had the delightful opportunity, too, of watching through my peep-hole many of the delicious scenes of lubricity enacted, and when driven to the fiercest excess of passion, I used to withdraw, steal up to the unoccupied sister, and vent my raging lust in every indulgence with her. + +This had been carried on for about a fortnight, one or other of the girls sleeping every other night with Miss Frankland. Lizzie, it appeared, had often professed to long to see a real cock, and had managed to worm out of Miss F. that she had enjoyment of mine. The little hussey importuned Miss F. to let her see me fucking her, saying that she could easily hide behind the curtains, and I would never know. Miss F., whose passions were at the utmost tension of desire, consented, and placing Lizzie where she could see without being seen, opened my door, but found an empty bed. She at first suspected that I had gone to one of the female servants, but thought she would make sure and see if Mary was not the object. So she stole softly upstairs, and found us in the act of enjoying a double gamahuche, which as it was early morning light, she could see without difficulty. She had the kindness to let us enjoy it to the end, and then dragging me off, said— + +"Oh! Charles! this is dreadful! Why could you not be content with me?—have I ever refused you? Do you know this would be the ruin of all of us if ever it should become known? You are too young to know the dreadful consequences of discovery." + +Here she burst out in a torrent of tears—it was evident from real fear of the sad results that might ensue, and not from any feeling of jealousy. I threw myself into her arms, and as she had herself acknowledged our intimacy, I had less difficulty in alluding to it. I caressed and fondled her, and told her there was no fear of discovery—less now than ever—as we would be all interested alike in keeping our secret; she would cover my intimacy with my sisters, and they would cover my intimacy with her. All at once she said— + +"How long has this been going on?—tell me truly." + +I had long prepared myself for such a question, and at once replied that after the description of the libidinous scenes that had taken place between her and them, and her exquisite account of their young charms, I got so lecherous upon them that I had sought Mary out while she was engaged with Lizzie, and Lizzie when Mary was with her; they were both too much delighted to refuse me anything, and we had now enjoyed each other about a dozen times. I had previously told my sisters to support any story I might recount to Miss F. Lizzie had stolen up after she found Miss Frankland had passed through my room, and now both confirmed the tale told. We surrounded Miss Frankland, caressing her in every way. My pego got terribly excited. Drawing up my nightshirt, I said— + +"Let this dear fellow make peace between us, and become equally dear to all. I know, my loved mistress, that my sisters are longing to see him exercised on your glorious person, and buried in your delicious hairy cunt, so let me offer up sacrifice to its juicy charms. Lizzie has just said you sought me for the purpose—see, the dear clitoris is raising its head—let Mary lie down under you to suck your clitoris, and see my prick close above her eyes in vigorous action filling your exquisite cunt. You can gamahuche her and Lizzie can look on behind, witness the glorious sight, and act postillion to my bottom-hole." + +"Well, my beloved children, the die is cast, it is no use crying after spilt milk, so let us make the best of it. I never could resist the eloquent look of this loved and long thick thing, that was made for giving poor woman all she could crave for." + +So arranging our relative positions as I had prescribed, we ran a course of the most luxurious and salacious enjoyment imaginable. Lizzie, who had taken possession of one of the dildoes, manipulated herself, while watching every voluptuous movement of our bodies, and we all managed to spend most rapturously together. We could not afford to do more at that moment, as time was creeping on, and the household would soon be astir. Miss Frankland regained with me my room, her own door being locked, and kissing me tenderly, said I was a bad boy, but she supposed it must eventually have come to this, so it was well it was sooner than later. + +Thus passed our first general orgie, which was the precursor of many much more luxuriously and salaciously libidinous, and which I shall more minutely describe as events progress. + +Miss Frankland would not allow us to have a general orgie the next night. She was now aware of our summer house doings—only of late begun, as she supposed—for my story had been too plausibly off-hand not to deceive her, especially as she had felt convinced by all that occurred on our first fucking that she had had the delightful pleasure of taking my maidenhead. She was quite satisfied on that head. But she now suspected that what I had just begun I should be too glad to repeat. She accompanied us to the garden in our recreation hour, so that nothing erotic took place. We sat down all together after a little running about, and Miss F. opened to us a rule of conduct we must in future pursue. She said— + +"However delightful it would be for you all, as well as for myself, to meet every night, it would in the first instance become a dangerous habit, dangerous because of engendering carelessness in the necessary precautions against discovery; and next, and above all, because it would be the destruction of our loved and darling Charlie, who could not possibly long continue such excessive venery as three loved objects at once would constantly require of him." + +Seeing my inclination to interrupt her, and declare that I felt quite equal to it, she stopped me, and told us I was too young to know what such excessive indulgence would lead to; that we must trust to her experience and be guided by her, and we should all find the advantage of it. Three times a week was the utmost she could allow, when we should be all together. The other nights she would take care that I committed no excess. Such were the sage counsels of this admirable woman, and such in future became the programme of our proceedings. I rebelled and kicked against what I thought at the time too great a restriction, but I eventually became convinced that greater pleasure followed the enforced delays. Of course I slept with Miss Frankland on what might be called our off nights, but she soon established a custom of restraining my spendings to twice a night, allowing me to excite and make her spend as often as I pleased. I was difficult to manage at first, but eventually settled down in great regularity to the rules she dictated, and, indeed, enforced. I soon found out the wisdom of her proceeding, for often afterwards my lagging efforts required the spur of the rod to be applied in earnest for the completion of our orgies. + +The second night after the discovery of my intercourse with my sisters was the first of meeting all four together, in Miss Frankland's room. We had been sent, as usual, early to bed, and Miss F. had privately recommended us to go quietly to sleep as soon as possible, and not to be under any anxiety, as she herself would go for the girls, after all the household had retired. As for me, it was the plan I had always adopted, as it enabled me to reap the greater amount of enjoyment, and its longer continuance, by the rest I had previously secured. Winter had passed away, and summer came round again. It was a lovely, warm, moonlight night. As soon as we were all assembled, stripping to the buff was the order of the night; then followed charming embraces and mutual posings, so as each should admire the beauties of all. Hands wandered everywhere over every charm, chiefly concentrating on the wonderful and finely developed form of the fascinating Frankland, whose richness of coal-black hair was so deliciously exciting. It soon became necessary to calm the first effervescence of our passions, which we always did by a general gamahuche. Miss Frankland, who had taken an extraordinary letch for Mary, paired off with her, while Lizzie and I accommodated each other. Miss Frankland, who had provided herself with a store of dildoes, furnished us all with one, differing in size, according to the intention of their application. As Mary's bottom-hole as yet could only accommodate a moderate size, Miss F. kept the smallest for her particular use, the others were indiscriminately used. Thus armed, we proceeded to enter on all the voluptuous excesses of gamahuching in every form, lengthening out our pleasures as much and as long as possible, that we might pass the whole night in the most libidinous raptures. When the ecstatic moment overtook us, our mouths had to cease their operations to give vent to the expressions of the rapturous nature of our feelings. We lay panting for some time before being able to rise and resume our mutual caresses. Now that we had taken off the edge of our lustful appetite, we prepared more calmly for further and more voluptuous combinations. The upper coverings of the bed were entirely removed, so that it presented nearly a square field of combat for love's encounters, admirably adapted for its purpose. We held a council as to our next movements, and finally decided to begin as follows: Mary to lie down on her back, Lizzie reversed above her, Miss Frankland was to indulge in her letch for Lizzie, which was that of fucking her bottom-hole with her extraordinary clitoris, while I was to fuck Miss Frankland's cunt, and postillion her smaller orifice with two fingers, Lizzie was to postillion Mary with her finger, while gamahuching her, Mary to apply the smaller dildo to my bottom-hole, and frig Lizzie's cunt with a larger one. It was also agreed we should run two courses in this voluptuous group, varying only in the substitution of my prick in Miss Frankland's bottom-hole, instead of her cunt, in which was to be placed one of the dildoes. We were none of us to press matters to a speedy termination, but to make the most of the exquisite conjunction of our parts. We enjoyed a most salacious and voluptuous fuck, and so managed matters as all should spend together in perfect raptures of lubricity and lust. Notwithstanding the pleasure of the final discharge, we managed, as previously agreed, to hold our mutual positions, our parts palpitating with repeated throbbings on or in the delicious quarters with which they were conjoined. These soon reawakened our passions, which we as yet had done but little to calm, and when sufficiently heated, the slight change agreed upon was effected, and I plunged up to the hilt in the glorious and hairy bottom-hole of the divine Frankland, who gave almost a scream of delight as she felt my huge pego rushing up into her burning entrails. We had to pause some minutes to allow her excitement to subside to a certain extent, or she would have discharged after two or three thrusts of my potent weapon. We then proceeded more leisurely, and after drawing out our enjoyment in the most salacious and voluptuous manner, the ecstatic moment seized us all together, with such an excess of wild enjoyment that with screams of almost agonised delight, we poured into or upon each other whole torrents of hot boiling sperm, and sank almost insensible into a confused heap of naked forms. We were a long time in recovering our senses. Then disentangling ourselves, we rose and laved our parts in cold water, not only to purify ourselves, but as a stimulant to further exertions in all the wildest excesses of lubricity that any of us could fancy. But we always managed so as to make Miss F. think that she was the author of any new salacious idea or suggestion. In fact she nearly was so in every case, for her experience in every letch, and its gratification in every form of libidinous refinement, was great and we owed to her many new and delicious combinations in our salacious orgies. After partaking of wine and cake, which Miss F. had taken care to secure, we indulged in some delicious romping and pulling about of the rich curls and hairy coverings of nearly all Miss Frankland's superb form. The girls above all admired the magnitude, hardness, and beauty of her truly magnificent buttocks, and what with one now and then sucking her bubbies, and at other times toying with her already standing clitoris, we soon brought her to such a state of excitement that, seizing hold of Mary, she got her on the table and gamahuched her, while Lizzie, creeping under, sucked her clitoris, and I pushed my prick from behind into her cunt. We brought on a delicious spend, and the glorious creature died away in excess of pleasure along with Mary, while I had not yet arrived at the climax. So I contented myself with making my prick throb to her delicious squeezings, until the fatigue of the position required us to break up the pose. She was so far calmed that she could now propose and discuss after-proceedings, and what our next form of enjoyment should be. As Mary had had an extra spend with Miss Frankland, Lizzie was now placed on her knees, with her head well down. I thrust my prick into her longing cunt. Miss Frankland standing up, strode across Lizzie's body in front of me, here I introduced first a smaller dildo up her bottom-hole and then a larger one up her cunt, both up to the cod pieces. She then pushed forward her belly and put her stiff-standing clitoris into my mouth, and placed her two hands on my head. I then passed one hand under her open legs, and seizing both dildoes in one hand, proceeded to work them up and down both holes at once, in unison with my suction of her clitoris, and my fucking movements in Lizzie's cunt, who at the same time was frigging her own clitoris with her fingers. Mary, armed with two dildoes, applied one to my bottom-hole, while she fucked herself with the other. In this way we ran a most exciting and delicious course. Miss F., in the ecstatic moments, seemed as if she would have pressed my head into her belly. She was so charmed with the voluptuous delights this pose had given that she cried out we must not change until another course was run. Lizzie said she must change from front to back, and begged Mary to hand her a dildo with which she might frig herself. The women were ready directly, but my pego was longer in answering the call, so Miss Frankland told Mary to apply the birch rod skilfully. + +This she did with great art, working the dildo, which was still in her cunt while so occupied. The effect was almost electrical, and my glorious rampant prick filled dear Lizzie's delicious and longing bottom-hole to her utmost delight. Miss F. begged Mary to give her a gentle stimulus with the rod. Nothing could better have pleased Mary, for she afterwards admitted she had long had the greatest letch to flog that glorious and immense backside. With such stimulants as these this course proved one of the most salacious and voluptuous we had yet had, and the ecstatic ending was accompanied with screams of delight, as we died away in the deathlike swoon of rapturous and satiated desires. We again rose to purify and refresh ourselves, and for some time after lay closely embraced on the bed. As Mary had not yet had my prick in her cunt, Miss F. proposed that I should fuck her, that Lizzie should kneel close behind us, she could fuck Lizzie's bottom-hole with her clitoris, and work one dildo up my bottom, while she worked a second in her own. No sooner said that done. Lizzie's head was shoved almost below Mary's belly, so as to bring Miss F. close enough to me to operate as she desired, and we ran another delicious course with such extreme pleasure that all sank sideways down on the bed and dropped into a sound slumber. We did not awaken until so late that we only had time to lave ourselves in cold water, finish off with a general gamahuche, and then regain our separate rooms. On this last occasion Miss Frankland said she must gamahuche me, as she delighted to break her fast on cream. The joke amused the two girls amazingly. + +It was about this time Mrs. Vincent gave birth to a fine boy. I have not spoken of her since our first interview after her marriage in the summer house, when all had gone into the town to bring out Miss Frankland. We had only had two stolen interviews since that time, which I have not mentioned, because they were too hasty, and with too little comfort to have been thoroughly enjoyed; then she became too heavy with child to afford me any further opportunity. Mamma wrote a congratulating letter to Mr. Vincent, wishing him joy of the advent of a son and heir, little dreaming that her own son was the father thereof. This brought a visit from Mr. Vincent to beg that mamma would kindly become godmother to the little fellow. My mother at once assented, and asked who the godfathers were. He said an uncle, from whom they had expectations, had consented to be one, but he was at a loss to know whom to ask as second. + +"Why not ask Charlie, he was always very fond of your wife as his governess, and he, too, has an uncle from whom we hope some day to receive something handsome." + +"That is a very good idea of yours, Mrs. Roberts, and if you will kindly send for Charles I shall put it to him, and if he consents, it saves me all further trouble." + +I was sent for, and, you may be sure, accepted immediately, thanking Mr. Vincent for the honour he did me, and hoping that Mrs. Vincent would be equally agreeable that I should be godfather, although so young. + +"Leave that to me, my dear wife is so much attached to me that my wish is her law, so do not make yourself uneasy on that head." + +It may well be supposed I was not at all uneasy, but quite certain that it was the very thing Mrs. V. would have proposed if she had not been withheld by prudence. We heard afterwards from Mr. V. that she had simulated objections on account of my youth, but the very first moment she could say a word to me in private it was to tell me what delight it had given her that her husband should have fulfilled in the matter the very wish nearest and dearest to her heart. + +The ceremony eventually came off as had been proposed, but it was at very rare intervals that I could find an opportunity of renewing our old combats in the field of Venus. Meanwhile I had no reason to regret this as far as indulgence of my erotic passions went, because, for nearly two years, that is until I had passed my eighteenth birthday, I continued to enjoy uninterrupted bliss in the arms of the luxurious and fascinating Miss Frankland, or in orgies with her and my sisters, which culminated in every excess of venery capable of being enjoyed by three women and one youth. In fact, we all indulged rather too freely, if I may judge from the fact that, at least to Miss Frankland and myself, the rod had almost become a necessity, and occasionally even my sisters admitted it gave them a fillip. Under the able tutorship of Miss Frankland we became the most perfect adepts in every voluptuous indulgence of lubricity. But I must also give her the credit of never neglecting our education. Indeed, I may say it gained by the intimate union of our bodies. For that estimable woman impressed upon us that to keep her friendship and confidence we must do justice to her teaching. I have already said her system of instruction was very superior to anything we had previously known, and now that she had won our unbounded love and affection, there was nothing we were not ready to do in school to second her efforts for our mutual improvement. She had very superior attainments—spoke French and German like a native, had sufficient knowledge of Latin and Greek to ground me well in them, and her knowledge of music was very superior. I have hardly ever heard anyone with a more charming touch on the piano. In the two years that followed our first orgie we made really astonishing progress. We all spoke French very fairly, had a pretty good knowledge of German, especially Mary, who really spoke it well; as for myself I was well up in French, fairly so in German, and with a very good ground work of Latin and Greek. + +It was about this time that an event happened which completely changed the order of my life. My mother had hinted that I had some expectations from an uncle. These were very vague. He was my father's brother, but they had never agreed, and we were almost strangers to each other. He died, and one day we were all surprised, not to say delighted, to hear from his executor, a Mr. Nixon, a rich merchant in London, that my uncle had left my mother four hundred pounds a year as long as she did not marry again, but at her death the said annuity was to be divided between my two sisters, independent of any coverture. The residue and bulk of the property was settled on me, under trust to Mr. Nixon until I was of age, with a request that I should be brought up to the law and entered as a barrister in the Inner Temple. Further, a sum of five hundred pounds was allowed for a new outfit, in every way becoming to all of us. Mr. Nixon announced that in a fortnight he would take the opportunity of being in our neighbourhood to come over and make the necessary arrangements consequent upon the altered state of affairs. He added that the residue of the property would yield about one thousand pounds a year, and that, therefore, my education must be looked to more closely than it probably had been. Here was, indeed, a change. My father had left the house and grounds, and something like six hundred pounds a year in the funds, entirely to my mother as long as she remained a widow, or until her death. Afterwards one hundred and fifty pounds per annum to each of my sisters, and the house and residue to me—a moderate income requiring other efforts to make it comfortable to one's upbringing. Here I was now the heir eventually to something like fifteen hundred pounds a year, two country houses, and a very fair house besides attached to my uncle's house. You may easily imagine the joy of the whole family when from somewhat pinched economy, we found ourselves in easy circumstances, with at once quite double our previous income. We indulged in somewhat wild dreams of what all this might produce; but mamma brought us to our senses by informing us that until I was of age Mr. Nixon would entirely control our destinies, and that it was more than probable he would insist upon sending me to a public school. This news dashed all our hopes to pieces with a vengeance, because it was precisely on our greater freedom that we had been counting, and now there was every probability our delightful intercourse and delicious orgies would come to an abrupt termination. We exchanged sad and crestfallen looks on hearing this from mamma, and met in a very disconsolate humour that night in Miss Frankland's room; but that charming and estimable woman cheered us up with the hope that if a temporary separation did occur, it would only lead to our safer and more perfect reunion hereafter. + +"And, to tell you the truth," she said, "my dear Charlie, we have been of late too much for you, and your health and constitution will benefit by a forced inactivity, for I have observed some symptoms about you lately that prove we three have taxed you too hard. I have no doubt I shall be retained as governess to your sisters, and leave me alone to keep them to a point that will not disappoint you when we meet again, which must always occur at intervals of not longer than six months." + +To our loving minds six months seemed an age. At the same time Miss F.'s remarks had, to a certain extent, reassured us, and although we could not enter into our orgie with the usual fury and letch, nevertheless we managed to pass a night sufficiently rapturous in the enjoyment of our libidinous passions, which many would have thought excessive. + +In due course Mr. Nixon made his appearance. He was a pleasant-looking elderly gentleman, and a complete man of the world. Finding that I had been educated entirely at home under governesses, he fancied I must be a milk-and-watery ignorant youth, and had already hinted as much to mamma—who, having told me, put me on my mettle. Mr. Nixon sent for me into the parlour alone, and began an agreeable conversation apparently leading to nothing, probably with a view not to render me nervous and timid, gradually turning the conversation upon educational subjects. He was agreeably surprised to find the progress I had made, not only in historical and geographical subjects, but in languages, and above all was surprised at my knowledge of Latin and Greek. He was particular in asking if some clergyman had not lent his aid to the governess. After dinner, during which he paid great attention to Miss Frankland, he warmly complimented her on her system of teaching and its extraordinary success. At the same time he observed that, as his dear old friend had desired that his nephew should become a barrister, it would be necessary he should be sent to some clergyman taking a few boys, and then to King's College, London, before entering a barrister's chambers. Miss Frankland at once admitted the justice of the remark, and hoped that Charles would not shame her teaching. + +"Quite the contrary, I assure you, Miss Frankland. I have been struck with the admirable ground work you have established, and especially the advantages you have given him of the knowledge of modern languages. I am so much pleased that I intend to beg of Mrs. Roberts to keep you as the able governess of the girls until they are so much older as to require a little knowledge of the world which a metropolitan ladies' school is sure to impart." + +All this was said with a certain deference of manner to Miss Frankland, that I felt certain the old gentleman was greatly struck with her person, as well as her system of teaching. But of this it is probable my readers will learn more hereafter. + +My mother, hearing of the intention of sending me to some clergyman, immediately suggested that her own brother-in-law, the Rev. Mr. Brownlow, rector of Leeds, in Kent, a retired village close to the castle of that name, would be a suitable person. He was a gentleman who had taken honours at Cambridge, and was in the habit of receiving one, two or even three young gentlemen, but never more, to prepare them for the universities. At that moment she knew by a letter from her sister that he had a vacancy. His name, she said, stood high as an instructor, as Mr. Nixon would find on inquiry; and as Charles had never been away from home, it would be a great satisfaction to her to know that he was under the care of her own sister. Mr. Nixon said he perfectly agreed to her suggestion, provided, as to which he had no doubt, his inquiries justified his sending me there. He left us with a promise of an early decision, and, indeed, before the week had passed we received his full concurrence to my mother's suggestion. So my aunt was written to, and it being the period of the holidays, Mr. and Mrs. Brownlow were asked to come over and spend a week, and then I could return with them to Kent. We had not seen aunt or uncle since we were little children, and only remembered her as a very tall immense person. The distance had prevented personal intercourse, and we only knew of them by interchanges of hams, Canterbury brawn, and oysters at Christmas time. As they replied by return of post, saying they would be with us in two or three days following their letter, you may be sure Miss Frankland and all of us made the most of what was to be the last of our mutual orgies for the time. No restrictions were put upon us, and every night was dedicated to the god of lust and voluptuousness. + +At last the fatal day arrived. My mother and the two girls went into the town to fetch uncle and aunt out, leaving Miss Frankland and me to our studies. You may well suppose it was the prosody of love and not that of grammar that occupied us. There was a tenderness of manner, and a loving kindness and fondling, which I had not before observed in Miss Frankland, and which I should have thought alien to her character. Embracing me tenderly, and pressing me lovingly to her bosom, she burst into a flood of tears, and sobbed as if her heart would break as her head sank on my shoulder. I tried to comfort her in the best way I could, and as my kind reader knows, a woman's tears always had a most potent effect on my prick, I placed it in her hand, she hysterically laughed amidst her crying, but instantly sank her head down to the loved object, embraced, sucked, and frigged it until I poured a flood of boiling sperm into her mouth, which she greedily swallowed, and continued sucking until not a drop was left. Then rising once more to caress and embrace me, she said— + +"Yes, my own beloved boy, that was indeed a means to stop my tears, I not only adore it, but have come to love you, my darling, more than I ever loved anything in my life—you are my own scholar, bodily and mentally. I shall miss you greatly, and I bitterly regret our parting; but we shall meet again, although never with such freedom and ease as we have done. You will spend your holidays at home, and we shall make the most of them. I can feel the dear object already to be made the most of again, and so it shall, dear fellow, so come to its own nest." + +These last fond words were addressed to my prick, which, already rampant again, was claiming attention. We went at it, hammer and tongs. Recruited at luncheon, we renewed the raptures of lubricity as that estimable woman alone knew how to indulge them. We were the less reasonable, as it had been decided by us the night before that I was to find out the habits of the coming couple before I should venture on leaving my room to slip up to theirs, and thus I had a night of relaxation before me. + +At five o'clock the carriage drove up, and uncle and aunt were welcomed to our house. My uncle was a tall, portly, unctuous-looking clergyman, quite a gentleman in his manners, and with a very agreeable voice. My aunt, who was some fifteen years my uncle's junior, was very tall for her sex, a fine portly figure, broad shouldered, large bubbies well apart, a small waist for her size, immense hips and evidently buttocks to more than match. She was very stout, but stood firm upon her pins, and walked with great elasticity of step, showing there was a good deal in her, or rather she could take a good deal out of anybody. She had a profusion of fair hair, with thick eyebrows, that promised abundance elsewhere. Her eyes were of a deep blue that could look very far into you. She had a very pleasing expression, a small mouth, and very white teeth. Her complexion was exceedingly fair, her arms immense, but beautifully formed, hands and feet small, fat and plump. She looked thirty-five, but was nearly forty, and was altogether a most desirable woman to look at, on a large scale. She embraced me tenderly, which I did not fail to return, and complimented me and the whole family on our late good fortune. The first introduction was altogether most agreeable, and I already began to imagine I might not be so badly off after all. + +We were allowed to sit up rather later than usual, and as my aunt was fatigued with her day and night's journey, they were glad to follow our example almost immediately. I had only just time to get undressed, when I heard them enter the room which Miss Frankland had vacated the previous day. This had previously been arranged, and she now slept in my sisters' room, as formerly, until we should depart. I quickly blew out my light, for fear they should observe it shining through the chinks I had made. Kneeling down, I began to watch the proceedings. The first thing my aunt did was to squat on the pot just opposite my peep-hole, and as she held up her dress well, I could see that she had a most prominent mons Veneris, thickly covered with very fair ringlets. Her power of piss was something wonderful, it was like a cataract in force and quantity, and at once made my mutinous prick stand at the mighty rush of waters that could be so plainly heard. As she rose, and before she dropped her dress, I saw her splendid proportions of limb, the like of which had never before met my eyes. Alas! it was but a passing glimpse. However, I determined to watch on, hoping to see a further display in the course of undressing. She took off all her upper clothes, until nothing but her stays and chemise remained. I could now mark the real grandeur of her proportions. The stays kept in the waist, and allowed the splendour of her hips and buttocks to stand out in all their glory. Never in my life have I seen a finer backside than my aunt had got. I am now speaking from a vast amount of after-inspection and adoration, but in its covered magnificence in which I at this moment viewed it, it appeared the finest backside I have ever met with, and was in fact the one I alluded to some time back, when I observed that Miss Frankland 's was the finest but one I ever saw. It is true, her stoutness added greatly to its prominence, but though stout, even very stout, it was not a stoutness you could call fat. For in after-intimacy, which became of the very closest and most voluptuous nature, I was never able to pinch her in any muscular part. She had the hardest, as well as the biggest, backside I ever met with. I am quite sure that when she was standing upright, a child might have stood on the immense projections of her buttocks. Her thighs were positively monstrous in their mighty proportions, as hard as iron, exquisitely moulded, and of a fairness and smoothness that rivalled ivory, which, in another respect, they much resembled, namely, in feeling cold to the touch. Her legs were worthy of the glorious frame they supported, and finished off with a pair of charming, clean-run ankles, and very small feet for her size. As her chemise was short sleeved, the grand magnificence and beauty of form of her splendid arms and neck, where the bubbies came out in all their perfection and brilliancy of skin, were fully displayed. As may be supposed, not a bone was to be traced in her upper neck, but all was dazzling in colour and flesh, which is such a beauty in woman. When a woman shows her gaunt collar bones, it is a proof of bad breeding, and a common nature. Aunt's truly grand bubbies rose magnificently over her bodice, which I thought at the time was their support, but this glorious woman required nothing of the sort, for when perfectly stripped, her bubbies stood out firm and projecting in all their grandeur, and they were of the largest, worthy of all her other fully developed charms. Her belly alone was somewhat too prominent, when standing up, but as she never had had children, it did not at all hang flabbily, and ended in one of the most prominent and largely developed montis Veneris I have ever met with, profusely covered with the fairest of curls, which did not prevent her lovely creamy skin from shining through them. She was well provided with hair on that part, but after the extraordinary hairy covering that Miss Frankland possessed, and with which I had so often toyed, all other women appeared as nothing in that way. My aunt, after donning a night-robe, sat down to her toilet, and proceeded to let down her massive bunch of tresses. Here, she was, indeed, richly gifted, her hair was all her own, in the utmost profusion, and, tall as she was, fell much below her buttocks, and was so thick that she could let it spread over both back and front, and completely cover her nakedness. Titian must have had such another magnificent head of hair for one of his models, for it exactly resembled, except in being somewhat of a fairer hue, his celebrated Magdalen, in the Pitti Palace, at Florence, where she is represented covered only with the rich profusion of her ringlets. Such was my aunt, and often and often afterwards has she indulged all my fancies, by showing herself off in every voluptuous attitude with this, the greatest ornament of woman, flowing in the utmost profusion over her glorious and mighty charms. Meanwhile, the doctor had undressed, but it may well be supposed perfectly unnoticed by me. I had better game in view. He, too, had donned a robe de chambre, and sat down by his wife to have a chat over the occurrences of the day. Of course, their conversation very naturally turned upon myself. They began by congratulating themselves that the good fortune of the family was partly reflected on them by the circumstances of my being put under the doctor's care. The lady remarked how doubly fortunate it was, as the little scandal that had happened had, for some time, prevented their having any pupils at all. The doctor said— + +"Never mind that, my love, this little fellow will soon be the decoy duck for others; he seems a nice, gentle lad, but I shall seek to have some talk with him to-morrow, and see what he is made of; boys, under women's instructions, are generally mere milk-sops." + +"I don't think you will find it so in this case," added my aunt. "I am not a bad judge of character, and I feel certain that Miss Frankland is too stern and firm of purpose not to have bent any boy's will to her bidding; I fear, on the contrary, she has, if anything, been too severe with him, for my sister told me that she had full power to wield the rod, but, after one or two severe bouts, she completely mastered them, and that their progress was really very great, and most satisfactory, as Mr. Nixon, Charles's guardian, who had examined him, had reported most favourably thereon. But he appears to be insignificant, and undersized, thin as a whipping post, pale, and somewhat sickly-looking, he appears much younger than he is, and seems hardly fitted for what you and I would delight in. Eh! dear doctor?" + +I did not understand at this time what her allusion meant, but it was followed by the doctor stooping forwards, kissing her, and, I have no doubt, tongueing her too. He first thrust a hand below her beauteous bubbies, and then pulling up her chemise, began foraging between her legs. She put down her hair brush; and laid hold of his cock, but quickly said— + +"Don't excite me, my dear, you see this poor fellow can do nothing without a rod, and we have none here, so be quiet and go to bed, that is a good boy." + +Obeying her, he rose, threw off his robe, put on a nightcap, and tumbled into bed, and was sound asleep before his magnificent spouse had finished her toilet. When it was concluded, she took off her stays, and drew her chemise over her head, I doubt if it could have fallen over her enormous buttocks. She then walked across the room in my direction, stark naked as nature made her, and strikingly magnificent in the firmness of her tread, and the glorious uprightness of her truly superb grandeur of form. I was positively awestruck. I could imagine her to be Juno in all her glory before Jupiter, and well he might be tempted to stray to the forbidden path of love, if Juno had such a backside as the enormous and glorious one my aunt possessed. She again squatted down, naked as she was, and poured out another torrent into the pot. I felt overpowered at the sight, and staggered back to my bed, and for the first time in my life felt constrained to rack off by self-pollution the excess of lust the gazing on such superhuman beauties had engendered. I could hardly refrain from shouting out to relieve my till then suppressed excitement, especially when nature gave way, and there spurted forth a jet of sperm, actually from the bed against the door towards which I had pointed my prick while wildly frigging it, and in imagination shoving it into aunt—anywhere; for if ever the saying that "there was plenty of good fucking about all these parts" was applicable to any one, it was supremely so in my glorious aunt's case. Any one might shove his prick against any part of her body, and spend at once from excess of lust, at her very beauty and splendour of form and exquisite colour and fineness of skin. Never, never have I met her equal. Her power of fuck, too, was on a par with the immensity of size, and of a quality to please the most fastidious, or the most lustful. Such were the first experiences that I had of my aunt's person, and as my narrative extends, the reader will become more intimate with her person and proceedings. I sank to sleep, to dream of possessing her in every way, rivalling Jupiter with Juno, and Mars with Venus, mere visions of the night, but which were in after-days converted into sweet realisations of the most voluptuous and rapturous nature. + +The next day, at our hour of recreation, Miss Frankland walked out with us, and seeking a retired part of the grounds, while the girls amused themselves, I recounted to Miss F. all I had seen and heard. She at once came to the conclusion that I was destined to fall into the arms of my aunt. + +"I am so far pleased, my dear Charlie, that it will be into those of an extraordinary fine woman; you must, after your present experiences with me, have had some one to go to, and certainly you could not have a finer. There will, evidently, be every facility, for I read those hints, which have puzzled you, as intimating any thing but reserve once you are admitted into the inner arcana of their lives, or I am much mistaken. There is one point I must strongly caution you about, and your general prudence and great good sense will make you appreciate its importance. Your aunt is evidently much experienced in erotic pleasures. If at once she found in you the extraordinary adept you are, she would never cease tormenting you until she discovered who had been your instructress. Now it must be evident to you that if she thought you and I were intimate in that way, she might draw evil inferences with regard to your sisters, or if not going so far as to think we had equally corrupted them, it is probable enough she might seek to remove me from their society. So you see, my darling boy, though it may be very difficult to do, you must, for all our sakes, determine to appear quite innocent and ignorant of every thing connected with indulgence in amorous passions. You must not let yourself appear excited, but leave her to take all the initiatory steps, and I much mistake if she will not be extremely ready to do so, but all the more so if she finds you apparently innocent. However much you now know of love's proceedings, you must keep a guarded check upon your feelings, so as not to let your knowledge become apparent in the smallest degree. She will, eventually, be twice as well pleased if she fancies she has had your first fruits. Before you leave I shall give you some short hints as to how to conduct yourself." + +All this time I was getting rampageous, so begging her to stoop forward upon a stump, I tilted up her petticoats and fucked her from behind, frigging her delicious clitoris, and making her spend at the same time as myself. It was a hasty fly, but very sweet nevertheless, for we were both conscious that it was necessary to make the most of the short time I had yet to remain at home. I mentioned my aunt's remark about having no rod at hand, and it was agreed that Miss Frankland should put one on an upper shelf of her wardrobe, and accidently leave the key in the door. As this wardrobe remained in the room uncle and aunt were sleeping in, woman's curiosity was sure to induce an examination of it. This answered a double purpose, for Miss F. so arranged things that some excellent books full of little bits of paper inserted here and there, at highly moral or religious passages, led both uncle and aunt to have a very high idea of her moral character—for these were works that apparently could only be for her own private reading. + +The rod was placed, and the bait laid next day. Meanwhile, that afternoon, the doctor called me aside, and put me through a conversational sort of examination. I was studiously modest, but being very fairly grounded by the admirable system of teaching pursued by Miss Frankland, I not only satisfied him, but he took occasion to compliment Miss Frankland very highly for the admirable groundwork she had laid. I fancied also, as he continued in conversation with her, that he grew more kindly and unctuous, as if the spirit of lust was infusing itself in his veins, as he continued to converse with and gaze on that most engaging and lust-creating creature. + +That night I watched, as before, their preparations for sleep, and heard their conversation. This time the doctor was profuse in his praise of me, but aunt thought I was timid and lifeless; there seemed no spirit about me, as there ought to be, she added, at his age, but this education by females makes girls of boys. I thought to myself, I guess, I shall very soon undeceive you on that point, my dear aunt. The doctor went quietly to bed; aunt stripped and used the bidet, giving me a most exciting and voluptuous view of all her full-blown charms. No sooner was her light out, and she in bed, than I slipped out and crept up to my sisters' room, where three randy cunts were impatiently awaiting my advent with an equally randy and inflamed pego. We indulged in every complicated combination of lust and lubricity, and never ceased until daylight forced my unwilling retreat. Before leaving, as the rod was to be put in the wardrobe, and the key left in the door, it was arranged that the next night the girls, and Miss F., too, if she could, were to endeavour to sleep soundly before I came. For if our stratagem succeeded, I should remain to see the result which would probably occupy more than an hour or two, and I would awaken them by applying Moses's rod to their water courses as doubtless I would be in a rampageous state, if our expectations of the doctor's and aunt's tendencies that way were realised. + +I kept myself awake until aunt and uncle came to bed, and then I immediately placed myself en vedette. At first no notice was taken of the key being in the lock. Aunt continued her operations, and uncle became somewhat more tentative than usual, when aunt, finding by placing her hand on his prick that it was mere useless desire, rose and scolded him. He grew more emboldened, and followed her up, wishing to feel her splendid cunt. It so happened she had drawn back as far as the wardrobe itself, until the key actually hurt her back. + +"Ah what have we here?" she cried, and then turning round, said that as the key had been left in the lock, there could be no harm in looking in. Her husband became as curious as she. Of course, the first things they saw were the prearranged books. They were seized upon with avidity probably with the expectation of finding something smutty, but to their surprise, and especially that of the doctor, it was quite the reverse. + +"Well, I should never have thought this; do you know, my dear, I had begun to suspect that, under a demure exterior, there was lurking an enormous deal of animal passion in that Miss Frankland, but if so, these works prove that it is under complete regulation. More's the pity, for she is made for the real enjoyment of the passions." + +"Oh you have been speculating in that quarter, have you, you old lecher?" + +"Well, my dear, you know we have both liberty to stray now and then, and you, yourself, have not a little availed yourself on our mutual understanding." + +"Now, doctor, you are too bad; do I not quite overlook all your weakness for the younger members of your own sex, and do I not lend myself to your fantasies in that way, when chance deprives you of any opportunity of pederasty?" + +"Well, well, my love, I was not upbraiding you, you are too dear and too kind to me to permit of any thing beyond a joking allusion; but what have we here? A birch rod! by all that is holy." + +Reaching up to the high shelf, he drew down the rod. At first they suspected Miss Frankland operating on herself, but the perfectly untouched state of the rod proved that it was there in reserve only, and had not yet been used. + +"What a lucky chance," cried my aunt. "I shall now be able to birch you into something like a fit state to fuck me—and you shall birch me afterwards, if it will only produce a second fuck, back or front, whichever you like." + +"You are an angel, my darling wife, and I shall try to content both orifices; it is an abominable shame that with such a gloriously made magnificent woman as God has given me in your noble form, I should ever require any other stimulant than a glance at your exquisitely exciting proportions; but I suppose it is age that weakens our sensibilities." + +"You are right, my dear John, for I, who used to think your dear old cock was enough for me, find I require the excitement of younger ones to give me the real excess of pleasure my constitution demands; it would be a shame if I did not humour all your little caprices, when you so readily throw opportunities in my way. I only wish this nephew of mine had been more worthy of us, we should have made him a glorious bonne bouche between us, equally to his satisfaction as to ours." + +"Well, my dear, the air of Kent, and more manly treatment, may yet develop his somewhat stinted growth, and under your tuition, he may yet prove not so bad an object as you seem to think, at all events, he may serve as a pis aller, until a better turns up; but you must proceed with caution, for he seems as modest as a maid." + +"My dear John, your modest ones always make the best, when once broken in. I only wish his physique had been more to my liking, but we shall see, we shall see; meanwhile let us both strip to the buff, and proceed to make the most of this happy discovery of the rod—the very thing we most wanted and wished for." + +Aunt rapidly twisted up her magnificent tresses, and as rapidly stripped to the skin; the doctor likewise. I assure you he was a well-made, muscular, portly, handsome man, with a large well-filled pair of cods. His pego still hung down his head, but had a certain amount of size, doubtless stimulated by the exciting nature of their conversation and reminiscences. His skin and his cock were beautifully white, and the ball of his prick of a tempting scarlet. I felt at the moment that, if I dared, I would have bolted into the room, and sucked it into such a stiffness as would have instantly satisfied the insatiable cunt of my glorious aunt. This was a delight to be left for a future day, when I allowed the doctor all the credit and pleasure of persuading me to do that which I was burning with desire to do. But I digress. No sooner were both fully prepared than my aunt, in a stern voice, ordered the doctor to approach. + +"Come here, sir, I must whip you, you have not done your duty as you ought lately, and you are a very naughty boy." + +The doctor, putting on the air of a schoolboy, begged to be excused this time, but his inexorable mistress was not to be moved, and seizing him by the arm, pulled him over her broad and massive thighs, and with one arm round his waist, seized his cock in her hand, and began whacking away at his backside in such real earnest and, apparently, with all the force of her powerful arm, that I began to think the doctor must cry out in earnest. But he took it all without a murmur, only wriggling his fat and smooth buttocks about in a way that rather inferred satisfaction than suffering. Presently my aunt, who, doubtless, knew by the grip of his prick that matters had arrived at the point her own passions had most at heart, lifted him up, and said— + +"Now I must put you in pickle, but as your great red buttocks are too large to be pickled, I shall pickle your prick instead. So come here, sir, and let me put this rampant fellow into my pickle tub, where, I promise, the salt brine will soon bring down his pride." + +I suppose this was the sort of childish yet lascivious talk which pleased them both, for uncle, who had risen, and who now presented a much finer weapon than I had given him credit for, pretended to fear this further punishment, and begged and entreated to be let off—he had been punished enough, &c., &c. Aunt, however, leading him by the prick to the bed, threw herself on the edge, and lying back, drew up her enormous thighs almost to her belly, and showed to my gloating gaze her tremendous salmon-coloured gash, all covered with spunk, for the operation had made her spend profusely. I never saw so large a cunt, nor such an extensive triangle as lay on the side of each lip between it and the commencement of the buttocks, beautifully covered with the fairest curls. + +"There, sir, is your place of punishment, stoop and kiss it before I imprison your indecent cock within it." + +The doctor, nothing loath, stooped and gamahuched her so well that her mighty backside wriggled beneath his head, and made every thing in the room jingle; her hand pressed his head until I thought it would have been pushed in altogether. At last, she spent with a shout of delight. He hastily gobbled it all up, and rising, without more ado, thrust his stiff-standing weapon up to the hilt, I might almost say cods and all, in her longing and magnificent cunt. Here, he soaked for some minutes, and I could see by the convulsive movements of her backside how much aunt was enjoying it. They soon became bent on more active movements, for throwing her splendid legs over his back, she began an up and down movement, much more active than I could in any way have given her credit for. They went at it in real earnest for a longer time than I expected, but when the mighty crisis came, it was with an energy, and passionate struggles worthy of the strength and substance of the two love wrestlers. I could see her cunt all foam again around the roots of the increased size of uncle's very respectable prick, and then they lay in apparent apathy for full twenty minutes, but one could see by the convulsive throbs of their whole bodies what delicious transports of rapture they were enjoying. Uncle was the first to rise, but only to stoop and to greedily lick up all the foaming spunk which the wide-spread entrance to her glorious cunt exhibited. This being done, she, too, rose, and throwing her arms round the doctor's neck, drew his mouth to hers, and seemed to suck his slimy lips, and gain for herself as much as she could of the delicious spunk the doctor had been revelling in. This lasted some minutes. Then my aunt turned him down on the bed, and took a long suck at his prick, now hanging limp, but still of a goodly thickness. Then she thanked him for the great satisfaction he had given her, and declared it was almost as good as the first days of their union. Then after toying and cuddling on the bed for a time, she said they must now proceed to a little further castigation, on her bottom this time, as he had promised to give her a double dose. + +"Yes, my love, but you know you promised I should take my choice of which temple I should make my sacrifice at." + +"My own John, you know, that after being once well fucked, the hinder hole is my preference, that is understood." + +They accordingly rose, and uncle, furnishing himself with the rod, desired aunt to kneel on the edge of the bed, and present her magnificent backside projecting out fair for his birching. This she immediately did, and being directly before my eyes, I had a full front view of her gloriously large wide-open cunt, and all the pinky brown aureola around her charming bottom-hole, over which the little fair ringlets showed in great beauty. I need not say that my own John Thomas was in all the pride and panoply of prickdom, and ready to burst with excitement. My uncle took the rod in hand as soon as aunt was in position, and placing himself on one side, while his left hand passed under her belly to frig her clitoris, he had his right hand free to inflict any amount of whipping. And, I must say, neither one nor the other spared the rod; they laid it on right soundly, but drew forth no word or sign of complaint. My aunt soon began to wriggle her stupendous backside, in a way to show how very exciting the birching was to her. Her exquisitely creamy white skin began to see the scarlet of the blood rushing to the surface under the infliction received. The redder it became, so did the evident palpitating movement of her two resplendent orbs increase, until uncle, too, showed how the glorious sight was stimulating his less easily excited system, by the stiffening and uprising of his pego. Aunt's hand slipped down to it, and being well acquainted with its habits, pronounced it to be as equally ready as herself. Turning her body lengthways, but still on her knees, the doctor scrambled up behind her, and first stooping, licked up the foam on her cunt, for she had already spent once; and then, rolling his tongue about the beautiful indentation leading to her delicious bottom-hole, he thrust it in as far as he could there. Then rising on his knees, he first plunged his jolly good prick into her cunt for two or three shoves, and then drawing it out well lubricated, presented its point to her exquisite bottom-hole, and plunged it up to the hilt at a single thrust. Aunt gave a cry and shudder of delight as she felt it penetrate to her very entrails. The doctor, satisfied for the moment, lay soaking in the exquisite pressure that aunt's sphincter ani was applying to his happy prick. He looked down upon her glorious buttocks, handling them with evident pleasure. I saw aunt's hand steal down to her cunt, and could observe that she was actively frigging her clitoris. She shortly cried out to uncle not to be so idle, but to commence the delicious movements she expected from him. + +He did—they did; and such a scene of excitement it was to see so magnificent a woman with such a mighty backside in all the agonies of enjoyment that I could hold out no longer, but seizing my bursting prick in my hand, two or three rapid movements up and down, and tight graspings of the shaft, brought on the ecstatic rapture of so lascivious a spend that I actually fainted and fell heavily on the floor. It was fortunate that aunt and uncle were so hotly engaged that an earthquake might have shook the house without their being conscious of it. So as I only fell from my knees it never disturbed one moment of their pleasure. I must have been some minutes without consciousness, for when I came to my senses, and was able to resume my inspection, I found their crisis was past, but that uncle still lay soaking in the narrow cell he so delightfully occupied. He was gazing with evident pleasure on the still palpitating buttocks of the divine backside immediately below him. Neither was in any hurry, but they dwelt for a considerable space of time in this repose of lubricity. At last, his cock, reduced in bulk, slipped out of its close quarters. Then, rising, and helping aunt out of bed, they warmly embraced each other, kissed and tongued, and aunt thanked him for a most rapturous fuck. Aunt then sat down on her bidet, and uncle used the wash basin. After purifying themselves, and aunt showing all the extraordinary fine development of her glorious form, they put on their night-dresses, blew out the lights, and tumbled into bed. I immediately hastened to gain my sisters' room, with my cock standing stiffer than ever. I entered gently—they were all asleep. My two sisters lay reversed, with their heads between each pair of thighs; they had evidently fallen asleep after a mutual gamahuche in the very attitude in which they had spent. Miss Frankland had apparently waited for me, but feeling drowsy, had thrust her very fine hairy backside right out of bed, ready to attract my attention the moment I should come. So gently approaching, and bringing the light to bear on the beautiful sight, I spit upon and lubricated the end of my prick, and very gently introduced him into her ever delicious cunt. I managed to fully engulph it before applying my finger to her bottom-hole, and my other hand to her clitoris. She had already in her sleep involuntarily squeezed me with her usual force. Then, suddenly applying all my energies, I began an active movement, which instantly awoke her. She was as ready for the sport as I was, and in a very few minutes we ran a most rapturous course of intense delight, and spent with an energy which proved the strength of the excitement I had been under. As I was standing by the bedside, and she lying on it with her fine bottom projecting beyond the edge, it was not a position to remain long in; besides, I was still dressed. So, withdrawing, I undressed myself. My sisters had slept through all this, so first preparing everything for an excessive orgie, by getting out dildoes and birch rods, we awoke the two darlings, who, rising, stripped to the buff. The three dear creatures were all curiosity to know what had kept me so long—more than two hours and a half, and what had been done. + +I recounted all the proceedings, except in so far as they had talked of initiating me, for neither Miss Frankland nor I wished my sisters to be acquainted with that matter. They laughed heartily, and little Lizzie said she must act aunt, first flog me and be fucked; then be flogged by me, and have my darling prick up her bottom-hole to follow. We laughed and humoured her, and that scene came off with considerable eclat. Miss Frankland fucking Mary, for whom she had a great letch, in the cunt first, and in the bottom, after my example on Lizzie, in the second place. Lizzie and I then laved our parts and prepared for fresh encounters, and we then began a more regular course of the most lascivious lubricity, in which dildoes and rods played conspicuous parts, both becoming necessary under the excessive indulgencies of these last few nights. I stole to my room long after daylight, and slept soundly for an hour or two. You may be sure our lessons were of the lightest in these few days that were left us, and I was allowed to doze off during school hours. + +Miss Frankland again walked with me alone in the garden, to give me, as she thought, last lessons in the way I should act with aunt, who she now felt more certain than ever would very soon attack and carry my person when she reached home and had the place and time all to herself. I listened with apparently great attention; as the reader knows, I was already an adept in the art she wished to indoctrinate—thanks to the admirable advice of my ever charming real first instructress, the lovely Mrs. Benson. But I could not help thinking how completely these two admirable women had the same wisdom and knowledge of the world with which they were so anxious that I, too, should become conversant. + +The next night the doctor and aunt went quietly to bed, the doctor declaring that his previous night's doings would prevent any more that night. So I only had one more gaze at all aunt's magnificent beauties, which had a never failing effect on my excitable weapon, and which she sent away when her light was put out in a perfectly fit state for the work that awaited him in my sisters' room. I came upon them sooner than expected, and found the three rolled into one body, two gamahuching each other, and Miss Frankland 's clitoris in Mary's bum-hole. For a wonder they did not hear me as I gently opened the door, and I patiently waited till the lascivious crisis brought down a delicious spend from them all. When clapping my hands applaudingly, I cried— + +"Bravo! bravo! encore!" + +I was so far glad, for to confess the truth the pace was telling, and I began to require more and more of the rod. However, we had but this and the next night at our disposal, and the knowledge that we must soon cease our delicious orgies nerved us all to increased efforts. + +Again our passions raged furiously, and broke out in spurts of foaming sperm. Every desire our lascivious lubricity could suggest was carried out to increase our pleasures or renew our exhausted resources, until time warned us again to separate. + +The next day there was no school time—it was spent in packing and preparing for departure. My poor mother took it much to heart—she was a most affectionate creature, as innocent as a babe. I often wondered where we three got all the natural wantonness of our characters, for mamma had nothing of it. I suppose it must have come from our grandparents, as aunt had it in the fullest degree, and was almost the equal of the adorable Miss Frankland, who only excelled her in having Greek blood in her veins, which, doubtless, accounted for the extreme heat of her lubricity. Some day I will recount the chief events of her romantic story, which she herself, in after-time, fully related to me. The day was a sad one for us all, even sadder than the next, the actual day of departure. As often happens, the anticipation of evils is greater than the reality when they come. + +That night my aunt and the doctor had another whipping bout, but this time she only succeeded in getting a single course out of the doctor. As before when all was over, I slipped away to pass the last delicious night with the dear creatures with whom I had now carried on the most rapturous orgies for more than two years past. My sisters were rapidly developing into remarkably handsome fine young women, especially Mary, who, having the advantage of a year and a half over Lizzie, was naturally more filled out and formed, although Lizzie promised in the end to be, and in fact became, the finest woman, and had also by far the hotter temperament of the two. We passed the night in orgies the most refined, interspersed with tears of regret at our parting, and soft endearments leading to perfect furies of lubricity, until I was nearly fainting with exhaustion. We tore ourselves asunder with difficulty, and the three angelic creatures held their door open, and with streaming eyes watched my receding form; twice, on looking back, I could not help returning again and again to throw myself into their arms for a last loving embrace; but like all things human it came to an end, and I reached my bed and sobbed myself to sleep. + +It is needless to dwell on our parting next day. My mother accompanied us to the town where we were to take a coach. It drove up. My poor mother could hardly utter her blessing and farewell, and I saw the tears coursing down her venerable cheeks as she waved her handkerchief before the coach turned the corner that shut us from her view. Of course my heart was full, whose could be otherwise when quitting home for the first time. My aunt put her arm round my waist, and laid my head on her ample bosom, and comforted me as well as she could; but a full heart must vent itself. Fortunately, we had the inside all to ourselves. My aunt was very tender, and so was the doctor. I soon sobbed myself to sleep; even in the bitter grief of the moment I had some slight comfort in the idea of pressing those glorious orbs. My aunt frequently kissed me, and I returned it with full pouting lips, which I fancied rather pleased her. I slept until the coach stopped for supper, ate heartily, and, as may be supposed after my late week of hard work, soon again slept like a top. + +I did not awake until it was broad daylight, and, like all heavy sleepers, was awake and sensible of what was going on before opening my eyes. I became conscious that a hand was gently pressing and apparently taking the size of my standing pego, which the pressure of water on my bladder had occasioned to be in an erection of the hardest. I lay quite still, continuing to breathe heavily, but unable to prevent sundry throbbings of my pego, occasioned by the soft hand of my aunt, who was gently following its form from the outside of my trousers. It appeared she had only just commenced her manipulations, not having previously observed the bulging out of its large dimensions under my trousers. She pressed her knee against that of the doctor opposite, who I presume, was dozing off, and in a whisper I heard her draw his attention to my extraordinary development. + +"Feel it, my dear, but very gently, so as not to waken him, it is the largest prick I have ever felt, and altogether beats the late Captain of Grenadiers you used to be so jealous of." + +The doctor did feel, and I think aunt would have unbuttoned my trousers, had not the coach suddenly pulled up at the inn we were to breakfast at. So perforce they shook me up. I acted the suddenly awakened sleeper very well. As soon as we were out of the coach, I whispered to the doctor— + +"If you please, uncle, I want to piddle very bad." + +"Come here, my dear boy." + +And taking me behind some wagons in the innyard, where we would not be seen, he said— + +"Here, we can both piss down this grating." + +And, forsooth, to encourage me, pulled out his own standing pego. I saw what he wanted, and out with my own in all its length and strength. + +"Good heavens, Charles, what an immense cock you have got—does it often stand like that?" + +"Yes, uncle, every morning it hurts me so until I piddle—it gets worse and worse, and bigger and bigger—it was not half so big a year ago. I don't know what to do to cure myself of this hardness, which is very painful." + +"Ah, well, I must speak to your aunt, perhaps she can help you. Have you ever spoken to anybody else about it?" + +"Oh, dear no! I should have been quite ashamed; but when I saw you also had the same hardness, I was very glad to ask your advice, dear uncle." + +"Quite right. Always consult me about that part of your body, whatever you may feel." + +We breakfasted, and I could see, on regaining the coach, that uncle and aunt had a satisfactory exchange of words on the subject. We got to the Rectory in Kent in time for dinner, at which I was the object of great and devoted attention of both, especially of my aunt. + +Our previous long journey made an early retreat to bed a necessity for all of us. They both conducted me with much empressement to my bedroom, a very comfortable one, having a communication at one end with a corridor, and, on the right-hand side entering, another door communicating with my uncle's dressing-and bath-room, and these opening into their bedroom, which had a similar dressing-room on the other side fitted up with wardrobes for female gear, and dedicated to my aunt's sole use. I was left to a quiet night's rest, which I most thoroughly enjoyed, and slept profoundly until late in the morning. I was awakened by my uncle drawing all the clothes off me. Of course, I was rampant, as usual. He gazed for a moment or two without speaking at my enormous cock at full stand. He then said it was nine o'clock, and breakfast was ready, that he had not liked to disturb me sooner, as I was in so sound a slumber, but now it was time for me to get up. + +"I see," he added, "that your doodle, as you call it, has got the hardness you spoke of yesterday." + +Then he laid hold of it, and gently squeezed it—it filled his grasp. He evidently enjoyed the pleasure of handling it, but contented himself with saying that my aunt must see to giving me some remedy the next day, when she should come and inspect it in the morning, so as to see how hard it was, and how it hurt me. + +I replied that it would be very kind of aunt, but what would she think of my showing my doodle to her; mamma had told me, when I slept in her room, always to piddle in a corner, and never let anyone see it. + +He laughed at my apparent simplicity, and said— + +"Your mamma was quite right as to people in general, but it is quite a different thing with your aunt, whose close relationship authorises her doing what she can to relieve her dear nephew, in whom we both take such an interest; besides, I suppose your mamma never saw it in this size and hardness?" + +He was gently handling it all the time of our conversation. + +"Oh, no! mamma never saw it but at night, when it was quite shrunk up, and that is nearly a year ago, when I used to sleep in her room; it is since then it has grown so large and hurts so much, and throbs so violently as it is doing now in your hand. It makes me feel so queer, dear uncle, and I shall be so much obliged to dear auntie if she will but give me a remedy to relieve the pain I suffer." + +He laughed again, and said— + +"I shall speak to your aunt, and we shall see—we shall see; but get up now, we shall find your aunt waiting for us. So make haste and dress; come down stairs, you will find us in the dining-room." + +He left me, and I could hear him laughing to himself, as he walked along the corridor, doubtless at my apparent innocent simplicity. I saw at once that I should be called upon to show myself a man next day; but I already felt the advantage of the advice both my admirable mistresses had given me, as to making all new conquests believe that they had my first fruits. I determined to adhere to the game I was playing, and I foresaw that the pleasure of supporting such a thing would greatly enhance the delight aunt would naturally take in being fucked by my really monstrous cock. I was soon down to breakfast, and was most warmly embraced by my gloriously beautiful aunt, who, in a graceful dishabille, looked more charming than ever. She hugged me for more than a minute in her arms, and devoured me with kisses. I have no doubt the doctor had recounted our interview, and by the sparkle of her eye, and the flush on her face, as she so closely embraced me, she showed that already her passions were excited, and she was longing for the hour in which she could indulge them. However, all that day, they were kept under restraint. The doctor had some parish business to attend to, and aunt leaving me for an hour after breakfast, while she attended to some necessary household affairs, afterwards took me all over the house and grounds, and then we had a walk through the village. The house was one of those snug rectory houses situated in their own grounds which abound in England, but few have so glorious a prospect as was seen from the front of the house. Leeds, in Kent, is situated on the ridge of hills running east and west, and commanding views over the rich and beautiful weald of Kent. The rectory faced the south, and the ground falling rapidly beyond the garden left a splendid landscape in full view. Although close to the village and the church, both were planted out by a thick belt of evergreen trees, which extended to north and east, sheltering the house and grounds from every adverse wind. The house itself was very commodious, but unassuming. The south front had a large projecting half-circle, with three windows in it and a window on each side of the half-circle; this formed the drawing-room below and my uncle's bedroom, and two dressing-rooms above. To the right, looking at the house, there was a wing with an open-arched passage leading to a greenhouse and vinery, while above ran a suite of three rooms, each with one good-sized window overlooking the garden. These were the three rooms kept for the same number of young gentlemen who might be taken in for preparation for the University—a number the doctor never exceeded. Of these rooms I was at present the only occupant. They were built so as to be shut off from all the rest of the house by a door on the landing, leading into the corridor, from which a door communicated with the doctor's dressing-room, and with each of the three rooms. At the end was a water-closet for general use. I have already mentioned the first of these rooms had a second door of communication with the doctor's dressing-room, and this was appropriated to me. Below these rooms, but looking north, and communicating with the village by a covered way and having a playground into which it looked, was the school-room, taking up about half the space of the rooms above. Beyond the covered way to the village was a quiet garden square, into which the doctor's study looked. This study was separated by a passage from the school-room, and had double baize doors both on the house and school-room sides. It was in fact the doctor's sanctum sanctorum, of which more will be told in the sequel. In this manner the school-room part of the house was quite shut off from the rest, and was nowhere overlooked. To return to the habitable part. The west front contained a small library, opening from the drawing-room, and beyond a comfortable dining-room, communicating with the kitchen and offices, which overlooked the courtyard of the entrance to the house, above these were the domestics' bedrooms, &c. The entrance was from the north into a handsome entrance-hall, with a good broad staircase leading to the upper landing, which, turning westward, led to three extra bedrooms above the library and dining-room. It was thus a very convenient house and well-adapted for a clergyman adding scholastic duties to his other ministrations. I forgot to say that the first bedroom, in the west wing, had a door of communication with my aunt's dressing-room, which I afterwards found had often served for amorous propensities by making it the bedroom of some favoured lover. The grounds were charmingly laid out with a profusion of flowers. There was a perfectly shaded walk in the east shrubbery leading from the greenhouse down to a most charming summer house overlooking the very finest prospect, and perfectly secure from all observation. It was furnished very appropriately for amorous purposes, the couches being low, broad, and with patent spring-cushions. In the sequel it was the scene of many a bout of lubricity. My aunt took me through all that I have described. When we arrived at the summer house, I could see that it was with difficulty she restrained her great desire to possess me; I would most willingly have rushed into her longing arms, and fucked her to her heart's content, but prudence withheld. I had undertaken to act a part, and must go through with it. No doubt aunt was withheld by a similar motive. She and the doctor had resolved that nothing to alarm my modesty—heaven save the mark!—was to be attempted till the next morning. So with a deep sigh she led me away from the summer house into the village, where we met the doctor, and returned to luncheon. After luncheon the doctor took me for a walk again through the picturesque village along the ridge of hills, to enjoy the beautiful views of Leeds Castle, the doctor giving me very many interesting historical details connected with it. After a most pleasant and lengthened walk we returned in time to dress for dinner. I found that one of the rules of the house was that no matter, whether alone or with company the doctor invariably insisted on regular evening costume at dinner-time. This has many advantages. In the first place it gives at least half an hour's occupation, an object in itself worth something to persons living in the country, and then it gives a cachet or rather chic to your dinner party, however small it may be, and is in itself a certain amount of restraint on excessive exuberance of spirits, and thus may be considered as a disciplinary element of education tending to keep up that reserve and self-restraint characteristic of Englishmen. + +Beyond a marked attention to me in every way, our dinner and evening passed without anything worthy of record. I was evidently high in their favour, probably for the reason that both began to have great hopes that I would serve their purpose in every way. We retired early to rest, and I thus obtained three nights of uninterrupted rest, recruiting me after all the excesses I had indulged in before quitting home. It was so far fortunate, that I was thus ready to satisfy the strong passions of my aunt, who was insatiable when once her lust was let loose. I awoke earlier than on the previous morning, and shortly afterwards, hearing a movement in the doctor's dressing-room, I feigned sleep. It was as I expected, the doctor coming to me in company with my aunt. They approached my bedside. I had laid myself on my back purposely to allow the thin summer-covering to be lifted up and bulged out by my stiff-standing pego. I heard the doctor whisper to aunt, to draw her attention to it. She gently slipped her hand under the clothes, and grasped it in her soft fat fingers, upon which it throbbed so violently that I thought it politic to waken at once. My aunt was not at all put out, but held it still in her hand with a gentle pressure. She said— + +"My dear nephew, your uncle has brought me to see if I cannot relieve the extreme hardness and pain you feel in this immense thing of yours. Let me see it." + +She now threw off the coverlet, and brought to light my large prick in all the glory of the stiffest stand. + +"My word! what a monster!" she cried. + +Her eyes sparkled, and her face flushed as the sight met her full gaze. The doctor approached, and also handled it with evident delight. + +"My dear, will you be able to put it into your natural warm bath? It is so very large!" + +"Oh! I have not the slightest doubt but that I shall be able to soothe and deliver it of all pain—poor fellow, how it throbs! Does it hurt much, dear Charles?" + +"Oh, yes; your hand seems to make it even harder than before, but, at the same time makes me feel so very queer, as if I were going to faint. Do relieve me, dear auntie, the doctor says you can if you like." + +"I will do so, certainly, my dear boy; but the method is a great secret, known only to your uncle and myself; and you must assure me you will never mention it to any one, or tell how I cured you. It is only my strong affection for you that makes me anxious to do anything I can to relieve you. Do you promise to be discreet?" + +"My dear aunt, you may be sure I shall be too much obliged to you ever to think of revealing your great kindness. Do, pray, do it at once; I feel so queer, and I am bursting with pain." + +"Well, then, make room for me beside you, and I shall lie down; the doctor will cover us up, and I shall soon reduce the stiffness." + +She got into bed, lay down on her back, pulled the sheet over us, laying bare her splendid belly, and, at the same time, opening her magnificent limbs and desiring me to get upon her, telling me she had a sheath in her body, which, when my hard doodle was put within, would soon relieve it of its stiffness. I got awkwardly upon her. She seized my standing prick, and placing its knob between the already very moist lips, told me to push it in as far as it would go. It glided into its delicious sheath up to the cod piece in a moment. + +"Oh, heavens!" I cried, "how nice! Dear, dear, auntie, what shall I do now, I feel as if I were going to die." + +My apparent innocence seemed to add to her pleasure. She threw the sheet that covered us on one side, and with arms and legs clasped round my body, begged me to move my bottom up and down, so as to make my doodle go in and out. I followed her directions, and she seconded me with rare art, squeezing my instrument with wonderful pressures as I withdrew and she retired, to meet again the up and down shock with the most lascivious delight. I felt the hand of the doctor embracing my testicles and gently pressing them. I became aware that the crisis was approaching, and shoved home with a cry of rapture, but remembering my part, I exclaimed— + +"Oh, I am dying, dear aunt; oh! oh! stop! stop! I—can't—can't—bear it." I sank away, but could hear aunt murmuring— + +"Dear, darling, delicious boy, I never had such a glorious prick in me, or a better fuck before. I fear the dear child has fainted from the excess of pleasure, and the newness of the sensation, but his glorious prick still throbs deliciously within me—only feel its root, doctor, how stiff it is." + +I felt the doctor grasping it, making it throb violently as he did so. + +"The dear boy is as stiff as ever. You will get another fuck out of him the moment he comes to himself. I am glad of that, for it is delightful to see you at it, especially with so splendid a prick operating upon you—it is the greatest treat you have ever given me in that way." + +"I don't wonder at that, my dear, for I never met with such a fine prick in my life before, and little thought my nephew could have had such a splendid one in his trousers when we first saw him. Oh, I am lewder than ever, and am spen—spen—spending. Oh!—oh!" + +And she poured down another copious hot flow on my enraptured prick. I let her revel in the ecstasies of her second lascivious discharge until I found that her libidinous passions were again excited and longing for more active operations. I pretended not to know where I was, and began a faltering— + +"Oh, where am I? What has happened? I have been in paradise!" + +Lifting up my head, I apparently recognised aunt in surprise— + +"Oh, dear; how came I here? Oh, remember, auntie, you promised to relieve my hardness, and it seemed so nice, but I feel it is harder than ever; you will try and relieve me again, won't you, dear auntie?" + +"Certainly, my dear nephew, you must do as you did at first, move in and out, and I shall second you; and perhaps we shall succeed this time better than before." + +Of course, I was less gauche, and she more energetic. I felt the doctor insert a moistened finger up my fundament, and move it in unison with our thrusts. Aunt cried out to me to go on faster and faster, and we soon came to the grand crisis, dying away together in sobs and sighs of delighted enjoyment. I again sank on her noble panting bosom, really overcome with the rapture-giving delights of that most delicious cunt. On lifting my love-humid eyes to the face of my aunt, she seized my head in both hands, and drew my lips to her in a long, long kiss of satisfied lust, and thrust her tongue into my mouth, which I immediately sucked. She then begged me to give her mine. After tongueing together for a minute or two she asked if my doodle was in less pain, and if its hardness was reduced. + +"A little, dear auntie, but I feel it is getting hard again—you must try once more, if you please—oh! it is so nice!" + +And my prick throbbed up and stiffened to prove the truth of my words. But the doctor here interrupted us by saying that he must have his own stiffness reduced, at the same time presenting his really fine prick at full stand before our faces. + +"You must get up, my dear boy, and your aunt will allay your new hardness in another way, in which she will be able to relieve both our hardnesses together." + +Reluctantly I rose, withdrawing my reeking prick at more than half stand. Looking down as I rose on the truly large and magnificent foaming gash from which I had just withdrawn, I cried— + +"Oh, dear aunt, what a wonderful sight it is; I must kiss it for the efforts it has made to relieve me." + +I threw my head down upon it, kissed it, licked its wide open lips all foaming with fuck as they were, thrusting my tongue in as far as it would go. This evidently gave aunt great delight. But the doctor drew me off, told me to lie down on my back, and made aunt straddle over me. She took hold of my now completely standing prick, bent it back, and directing it aright, sank upon it until her ample bush of hair lay crushed on mine. She rose up and down two or three times in a slow delicious movement, and then bending forward, glued her lips to mine while I threw my arms round her glorious body. + +I could feel the doctor getting up between my legs on his knees, and then felt his prick was rubbing against the lips of the cunt fully distended round my large pego, doubtless for the purpose of lubricating it before thrusting it into aunt's magnificent backside. I felt the rubbing of his prick against mine through the thin partition, as he glided slowly up into her entrails. We then began our joint movements, but aunt beat us both, and spent twice before joining in our final finish, which was ushered in by loud cries of delight from all three as the death-like ecstasy seized us, and we sank in that half unconscious state of supreme bliss. It was some time before any of us spoke a word. The doctor rose first, and without drawing his prick from the delicious orifice in which it had been engulphed, showed by the way it hung down its pendant head, that aunt had at all events allayed its stiffness. He desired aunt to rise also, but I felt by her throbbing cunt, and the pressure she put on my prick, as she rose from it, so that it came out with a loud flop, that she would fain once more have done me the service of allaying any stiffness that might re-arise. However, it was much limper than before, although still of a goodly thickness. When she got on her legs, she stooped forward, kissed it, took it in her mouth, and most lovingly sucked it, saying how delighted she would be to relieve me whenever it was troublesome. They begged me to get up and dress, and we should meet at breakfast. They then withdrew, to complete their own toilets. I lay for some minutes in the dreamy delight of thinking over the delicious event that had just taken place, and amused at the last remark of my aunt, which seemed to infer that she thought I was innocent of the real meaning of the performances that had just taken place. I determined to act as if it were so. + +We met at breakfast, aunt kissed me most lovingly. I thanked her for her great kindness in relieving me from pain in so delicious a manner, and told her I could not help loving her more than I had ever loved any one before, and said I hoped she would kindly relieve me every morning, for I always suffered at that time from the painful hardness, though I should never be sorry for that, as long as she would so kindly allay it. I put my hands quite in a childish way on each cheek, and held up my mouth for a kiss, which was given to me in the lewdest way. She called me her dear boy, and told me that she would always help me as she had done that morning, as long as she found I was discreet, and never told how she did so. You may be sure that my promises were most earnestly reiterated. So we kissed again, and sat down to an excellent breakfast with sharpened appetites from our early exercise, and did full justice to the viands set before us. The doctor gave me a book of history, and desired me to read for a couple of hours, and said that at luncheon we would talk over the subject of my reading. I studied attentively for the time prescribed, and then aunt came to ask me to walk in the grounds with her. Insensibly or not, she led me to the summer house, and sat down on a low ottoman. I sat down beside her. She drew me to her, kissed me, and clasped me to her bosom, murmuring terms of endearment, and pressing me to her glorious bubbies. Of course, my unruly member fired up at once. To prevent her imagining it was lasciviousness that prompted me, I said— + +"Oh, my dear aunt, I do so want to piddle, my doodle at once gets as hard as wood if I at all restrain the inclination to do so, just feel how stiff it has become; will you let me go and piddle?" + +"My dear boy, I will go with you, and unbutton your trousers for you." + +We went among the trees. Her busy fingers undid my trousers, and helped to bring forward my lordly cock in its glory. Fortunately, I did want to piddle, and aunt held it up as I did so, her eyes sparkling with lust as she handled it, and her face flushed with her excited passions. She remarked what an astonishing size it was, gently rubbing it up and down. Of course, it became more rampant than ever. Throwing my arms round her stooping neck, I asked her if she could not again relieve the excessive hardness and pain it was in. + +"To be sure, my dear boy. Come here again into the summer house, where we cannot be observed." + +We entered. She put a cushion on the floor for my knees, threw herself on her back, and lifted all her petticoats well over her belly, exposing her very hairy cunt, and its splendid pinky gash, already moist from her excitement. I threw myself on my knees, and stooping down, said— + +"I must kiss the dear reliever of my pains." + +I kissed and tongued, until my aunt begged me to raise my body, and come upon her, that she might quickly put me out of pain. I rose, and slipped my stiff member up to the hilt in her longing cunt almost taking away her breath by the suddenness and completeness of the insertion. Her legs and arms were round me in a moment, and at it we went hammer and tongs, until we quickly spent with cries of delight, and sank in momentary oblivion, soon to recover our full sensations, and dash again on passion's furious course, this time aunt pouring down her hot boiling discharge before me, and again when she felt the torrent of my sperm shooting up to the top of her womb. Our final crisis was even more ecstatic than the first time, and we lay longer in the soft languor of the after-sensations. The excessively voluptuous nature of her inward pressures soon re-illuminated all my libidinous desires, and refired my prick with renewed force. We soaked for a short time, each indulging in the delicious inward throbbings, until our lust could stand no longer such mere preliminary work, and stimulated anew, we rushed with freshened passions into the fray. The fiery nature of my lustful aunt paid down two tributes to Priapus to my one. This time our sensations were so ecstatic in spending that we really lost all consciousness, and lay for long locked in the closest embrace. I could feel that we were both becoming re-excited, but my aunt begged me to rise, saying that was enough for the present, the stiffness was allayed, and my weight was too much for her to endure longer. I rose, but again buried my face in the wide gash of that glorious cunt, and before rising completely, I licked up the delicious foam, and even ventured to give, as it were, an accidental lick to her little knob of a clitoris, for she was not much distinguished in that way; she shivered with excitement, when I touched it, and even pressed my head down upon it, when she felt the pleasure pressure. + +"My dear boy, what exquisite delight you give me! Continue for a little to keep moving your tongue on that hard projection." + +I did so. Her splendid backside wriggled below in the fullest enjoyment. She rapidly came to the ecstatic ending, nearly thrusting my whole face into her vast orbit, and spurting out a very torrent of sperm, all over my face and neck. She seized me by the shoulders to draw me up, that she might kiss me. My prick had regained its full vigour, and could not fail to slip in of itself into that most lascivious and gaping cunt when it reached the entrance. My aunt started at such an unexpected result, but was too much gratified to hesitate for an instant. Throwing legs and arms around me, her supple loins were in immediate action. I myself was equally in a state of wild lubricity, so that our course was even more rapid than at first, and we both spent and sank together in the delicious after-languor as soon as the ecstatic joy of the first rush of the exquisite discharge was over. My aunt, who could not but be most highly gratified, still kept up the appearance of relieving me, she desired me to rise, and said we must go, as luncheon time was at hand. + +"But, my darling nephew, you must yourself endeavour to keep down your hardness, and not allow it to become stiff so often—you will injure me with your violence." + +"Oh, my darling aunt, you give me relief with such exquisite pleasure that my doodle seems to harden only for the purpose of your relieving it—see how it is again bulging out of my trousers," for she had buttoned it up. She put her hand upon it, and squeezed it, but said, with a deep sigh— + +"Come along, come along, or I do not know what might happen." + +She drew me away, but by the manner in which she squeezed my arm, I could feel she was herself still greatly excited. Her prudence alone enabled her to resist further indulgence, as she seemed to think I was still unaware of the real nature of our proceedings. We found the doctor waiting for us at the luncheon table. He guessed by the flushed face of my aunt the nature of our late employment, and asked if I had been again troubled with my unnatural hardness. + +"Yes, poor fellow," said my aunt, "it appears that whenever he wants to piddle, and cannot do so at once, it troubles him in that way, and I have had some difficulty in allaying it. I succeeded at last, but I have told my dear nephew that he must endeavour himself to restrain it in the daytime, as it is not always in my power to relieve him." + +"Quite right, my love; my dear Charles, you must endeavour to follow the wishes of your of aunt." + +Of course I promised, and with such a look of innocence that I could see they exchanged smiles at it. We sat down to luncheon. Afterwards the doctor, seating himself by my side, began a conversation on the historical subject I had been studying. Our conversation became really very interesting. The doctor was a man of great erudition, and of varied knowledge, and had a manner, special to himself, of making almost any subject most interesting. Hours flew by, and it was only when aunt entered about five o'clock, to take a cup of tea, as was her wont, that we were aware how time had flown. The doctor praised my knowledge of history, and the pertinency of the questions I had put to him, in a manner highly flattering to me, and I could see that I had risen much in his estimation, quite apart from any erotic influences. He proposed a constitutional walk before dinner, and much interested me by his instructive conversation during it. Our dinner was most agreeable. In the drawing-room aunt, a most admirable performer on the piano, enchanted us with her skill and taste. The doctor challenged me to a game at chess. He was, of course, far superior to me, but he praised my style of play, saying I should become a great proficient with time and practice. We retired, as usual, about half-past ten, the doctor seeing me to my room, and promising to bring aunt in the morning to see if I was still troubled with that painful hardness. I thanked him warmly, but with much simplicity, as if quite unaware of the real nature of the application of the remedy. He left me to my repose. The quiet nights of sound sleep made my day efforts pass off without any exhaustion, and I felt my erotic powers increasing in force. + +I slept soundly, and so long that I was only awakened by the caressing hand of my aunt on my stiff-standing pego. She had gently lifted off all the coverings, and I lay quite exposed to eye and touch. + +"Oh, my darling aunt! how kind of you to come this early to relieve that troublesome thing." + +I held out my arms. She stooped down to kiss me. I clasped her to my bosom. Our lips met, and our tongues darted fiery lust into our bodies. She threw herself down by my side, I was onto her in a moment. The doctor took hold of my pego, and guided it into the delicious orbit of his wife. Dear aunt begged me to do as I did yesterday, if I wanted relief. Our action became fast and furious. Her legs and arms wound round me in loving pressures. Her active backside wriggled in delight. The doctor had introduced first one finger, and then two, into my fundament, and added greatly to the fury of my lust, so that I spent in an agony of pleasure, as quickly as the fiery lust of my aunt produced her hot and plentiful discharge. I sank on her charming bosom, panting with the force and fury of our coition, but like all very fast fucking, my virile member hardly flinched from his first vigour, and a very few of aunt's exquisitely delicious internal pressures sufficed to bring him up to the fullest stiffness. We were about to plunge again with renewed ardour into all love's wildest excitement, but the doctor insisted upon our first changing places, that he, too, might have his hardness allayed. Our change of position was instantly accomplished, and dear aunt, after impaling herself on my upright member, sank on my bosom and was clasped in my longing arms. The doctor scrambled up behind her, and lost no time in sheathing himself in her fine and beautiful bottom-hole, and then we ran a double course of delight, dear aunt taking the lead as usual, and deluging us with her hot and delicious discharges before we were ready to pour into her a double dose of delight, which again made her spend with fury and cries of rapturous enjoyment, in which we both joined, and then sank in love's exquisite inanimation. On recovering ourselves the doctor withdrew, but I was already as stiff as before. Aunt began a most effective and delicious movement above me, which soon brought on another grand finale, and we died away in mutual delight. I could feel that the doctor was gently handling my cods, both during and after our last combat. When, by our mutual throbbings, he saw that we were about to become fit to enter on another career, he begged his wife to rise from off me. But the idea of losing her and her extra pressures made my prick immediately resume an erect position, so that when she rose from off it, it was shown in a completely standing state. + +"What! again, Charles?" said the doctor. "Your member is sadly unruly. My dear, you must again try to allay it, but put yourself this time on your knees, and we shall see if that position be better adapted for the purpose of relieving this immense object." + +He was gently and admiringly handling it all the time. His wife was quite aware of his object, and, indeed, so was I. Our last bout had helped to restiffen his prick, and although not yet quite rampant, it was evident that when my bottom was in full view, and so placed as to be got at with facility, it would be quite as stiff as necessary. When his wife had knelt down, and by lowering her head had exposed all the wondrous grandeur of the most superb backside that ever met my eyes, my prick bounded with joy. The doctor still grasping it, and feeling it throb so wildly, saw that his game was sure. He pointed out all the beauty of aunt's second orbit of love, and told me it was in that he had allayed his own hardness, and as the other orifice had not succeeded in quieting me, he recommended my entering within the narrow path of ecstasy. I professed no surprise, but seemed to take it quite as a matter of course in the simplest innocence of manner. Uncle continued to handle my tool as I mounted on my knees behind aunt. Guiding the almost bursting weapon into the delicious cunt in the first place, to be lubricated there, and then telling me to withdraw it, he directed it to the smaller orifice, and desired me to push gently and smoothly in. It glided in slowly up to the meeting of my belly against the enormous buttocks of that sublime backside. There I paused for a minute or two within the throbbing sheath. Aunt had pushed her bottom well out, and by the action of apparently voiding, had facilitated the entrance. She winced once or twice, but on the whole, as she told me afterwards, took in my enormous tool with less difficulty than she expected. After a few slow movements, during with I caressed and devoured with admiration the glorious orbs beneath my dearest gaze, uncle desired me to lean forward and embrace my aunt's splendid bosom. As soon as I did this, and began slowly to thrust in and out of the delicious sheath in which I was so rapturously engulphed, I felt uncle's hands wandering over my buttocks, followed by the introduction of two fingers into my anus. My throbbings on them showed how much he pleased me. He asked if it added to the pleasure I was enjoying. + +"Oh, yes, dear uncle, immensely." + +"Then," said he, "as I, too, am suffering from hardness, I shall try to allay it in your bottom, as you are doing in my wife's; don't be afraid, if I hurt you I shall stop." + +"Do just as you like, dear uncle, both you and aunt are so kind as to do all you can to relieve my pain, and I should be very ungrateful if I did not do all in my power to relieve you." + +"You are a darling boy, and I shall love you dearly." + +He knelt behind me, and spitting on his cock, presented it at my bum-hole, and pressing gently forward, soon sheathed it to the utmost depth. He did not hurt me at all, as I was too much used to be dildoed there to have felt any difficulty of approach, but I deemed it politic to beg him to be gentle from time to time, as if it were a virgin vale he was entering. He fancied as much, and that was just as good. When once he was fully within, after a few throbs, which were felt most deliciously on his delighted prick, we proceeded to more active work. Aunt, in the meantime, by more pressure on my prick, and by frigging her own clitoris, which I was quite aware she was doing, had spent profusely; and, as the case with all the mucous membranes of the body which sympathise with the cunt's discharge, her bottom-hole became quite moist and deliciously heated. The doctor and I then went at it with fiery force, and soon gave down nature's tribute, and mutually poured a flood of sperm up the entrails we were respectively belabouring. + +We lay for some time after in all the luxury of soaking in the delicious apertures. I fell to nothing, and reluctantly withdrew. I had again become rampant, and keeping myself more erect, with a hand on either immense hip, I devoured with greedy eyes all the glories beneath my gaze. Fired by such a truly magnificent sight as these huge buttocks were, when in an entire state of wriggle, I again spent with cries of agonised delight, and in all the ecstasy of fully satiated lust, sank almost insensible on the broad and beautiful back of my aunt, who herself had spent several times, squealing like a rabbit, and eventually falling flat on her belly overcome with exhausted lust, drawing me with her still held a willing prisoner in her glorious and exquisite bottom-hole. We lay entranced for some time, until the doctor, who, during our last bout, had purified himself, told us we must now get up. With difficulty I tore myself from out of that delicious sheath, and rose with my cock at last pendant. The doctor congratulated me on the success of the last move. His wife lay still panting with all the delight of satisfied desire, and we had to help her up. She threw herself into my arms, and hugged me close to her heaving bosom, kissed me tenderly, and hoped she had relieved me of all pain. I was her own darling boy, and she would always be truly happy in relieving me of that inconvenience whenever it troubled me. I was internally amused at their continuing to keep up this idea, but I humoured them, and appeared the most innocent simpleton, notwithstanding all that had occurred. The day passed much as the previous one. After two hours' reading, aunt again proposed a walk, which, of course, ended at the summer house, where again a pressure of water brought on the painful hardness, which aunt succeeded in allaying after four most exquisite bouts of love, varied by a thoroughly good double gamahuche between the last two acts. Aunt must have spent at least ten times, and appeared thoroughly contented, but continued to attribute it to her gratification at having relieved me of my painful hardness. Again I passed hours in instructive conversation with my learned uncle and after a similar evening to the last, retired at our usual hour. + +Next morning I was awakened by uncle alone, who told me that my aunt was somewhat poorly, and could not come. + +"I am sorry it is so, for this little fellow is as hard as usual." + +"Oh, I am so sorry dear aunt is poorly, both on her account and my own. What shall I do, dear uncle? It is so hard and painful." + +"Well, my dear boy, I must try to allay it myself. I love you too dearly to leave you in this state. I am not so good at allaying this painful attack as your aunt, but as you know you were successfully relieved in her bottom, and I in yours, yesterday, we shall try to-day if I can accommodate this huge fellow, of which I have some doubts. Take off your night-shirt as I do mine, it will be more commodious." + +In an instant we were both stark naked. We threw ourselves into one another's arms and lovingly kissed each other. Our tongues met in a delicious sucking—our hands took each a prick, and we had a most exciting and loving embrace. The doctor then took my prick in his mouth, sucked it a little, and well lubricated it with his saliva, spitting on the lower part of the shaft and rubbing it round with his finger. He then knelt, and presenting a really beautifully rounded bottom of the fairest hue, he pushed it out, showing a light brown corrugated bum-hole, most tempting to look at. He desired me to wet it with my saliva. I stooped and applied my mouth and tongue to the appetising morsel, and thrust my tongue in as far as it would go—to his evident delight, leaving it well moistened. I then brought my prick to the entrance; he shoved his backside well out, and acted as if he desired to void himself. A firm but slow pressure quickly engulphed the knob. The doctor desired me to rest a moment, and drop some spittle on the shaft. Again it was firmly pushed forward, and gradually it won its way up, the belly against the buttocks, without much flinching on the doctor's part. After resting a while, he desired me to bend forward and feel his cock while I should move backwards and forwards in the sheath until I was relieved. I had a most delicious fuck. The doctor's bottom-hole was quite hot internally. His pressures with the sphincter were exquisitely delicious, and he had acquired the charming side wriggle so exquisite in quim fucking. Of course this was an old letch of his, which his position as schoolmaster had given him so many opportunities of indulging in, and the still greater pleasure of initiating others in it. At this very moment he was delighted with his delusion about me in that respect. Of course I never undeceived him, and he had all the extra delight of the idea. My younger and hotter passions had made me spend before he could; so after indulging me in a delicious soak after the ecstasy of the discharge, he drew my attention to the rigidity of his own member, which, he said, I must now allow him to allay in turn. + +"Of course, my dear uncle, I am too sensible of your great kindness in relieving me to hesitate about giving you the same relief." + +I now withdrew. He rose for a mutual loving embrace, and then I stooped, and taking his fine milk-white prick with its lovely vermilion knob into my mouth, most deliciously sucked it, making my tongue tickle the entrance to the urethra, to his infinite delight. He murmured out soft terms of endearment; then getting exceedingly lewd, he begged me to kneel down as he had done. He then kissed and gamahuched my bottom-hole, making my prick stand and throb again with delight. Then spitting on his prick he quickly sheathed it in my glowing backside. After pausing to enjoy the exquisite pleasure of complete insertion, he stooped, and passing a hand round my belly laid hold of my stiff-standing prick with one hand, while he gently pressed the ballocks with the other. We then proceeded to active measures. He soon made me spend, which I did with loud cries of delight, giving him the most exquisite pleasure by the pressures the act of spending made me exercise on his pleased prick. He soon resumed his thrusts, and eventually we both spent together in the most ecstatic joy. I sank forward on the bed, dragging the doctor with me still imbedded in the rapture-giving aperture of my backside. We lay long in all the enchantment of delight. At last he withdrew completely reduced, but was surprised to see me still in a rampant state. When I got up he took my prick in his hand, praised its noble proportions, and again stooping, took it in his mouth, frigging the lower shaft with one hand; he then introduced two fingers into my bottom-hole, continued his suction and movement on my prick in unison with the working of his fingers up my bum-hole, and in this manner quickly produced a delicious discharge in his mouth. I had placed my hands mechanically on his head, and I nearly choked him as I thrust my prick halfway down his throat as I spent. He greedily swallowed every drop, and then rising, embraced me lovingly, telling me I had given him the greatest treat in the world, and he loved me dearly. After this he invited me into his dressing-room, and we both entered the bath together and mutually laved each other. Then dressing we joined aunt at breakfast. She had not the least air d'une malade, but with a sly smile hoped the doctor had proved as efficient as herself. + +"Oh, yes, my dear aunt, and I am so much obliged to both of you for your solicitude to relieve the pain I suffer in the morning, but it seems to me that it more frequently and more severely attacks me than ever. I only hope I shall not tire out your kindness by such frequent appeals to your aid." + +"Oh, my darling nephew, do not imagine anything of the sort. We are but too happy to be of any service to you." + +This was accompanied with a knowing smile cast at each other, caused by my apparent uncommon simplicity, but which they were evidently glad to see. We sat down and enjoyed a capital breakfast. + +The day passed quite as the two preceding ones. Aunt asked me to walk with her, and as before ended by leading me to the summer house, where, after relieving my distress symptoms, as she called them, three times, and finding that the relief was still inefficacious, she proposed to try if by adopting my uncle's position she could not be more successful. So kneeling on the low ottoman, and throwing her clothes over her back, she exposed all the glories of that most splendid backside, and dazzled my sight with its huge magnificence and ivory-like surface, perfectly milk-white, the pureness of which was equally perceptible through the rich light curly hair that spread bush-like between her legs, and wandering beautifully upwards between the cheeks of the enormous orbs, stole round the charming corrugated aperture that I was about to penetrate, the rosy circle of which appeared all too small to admit my very large virile member. I threw myself on my knees, and first licking out the wide open lips of her wonderously fine cunt, and taking care to pay my respects to the small knob of her indurated clitoris, I transferred all my attention to the smaller and most charming orifice. After kissing it most lovingly, I thrust my tongue in as far as it would go, and rolled it about to her infinite delight, while with my left hand below I kept pressing and frigging at her excited clitoris. She wriggled her glorious backside in all the agonies of the delicious excitement until she spent most profusely, actually hurting my tongue with the tightness of the squeeze her sphincter muscle gave as she poured down her plentiful discharge over my chin and neck. In her grand excitement, and wild with the fury of her lust, she cried out— + +"Oh! fuck me, my darling, and shove your glorious prick into my bottom-hole. Oh! fuck—fuck—fuck me directly!" + +Inwardly delighted at this natural outbreak of her passions, naming matters by their more appropriate terms, I replied by acts, without any words at the moment. It may well be imagined I was myself in the most rampant fury of desire. So bringing my raging prick up to her magnificently large cunt, all foaming as it was with her recent discharge, I plunged with a furious bound up to the codpiece at once. She met my forward lunge with a backward push and a cry of delighted satisfaction. I moved a few times in and out, so that my prick was white with the foam of her delicious cunt. Then suddenly withdrawing, I presented it at the entrance of the more secret temple of Venus, and more gently pushed it home, she helping me with outthrust buttocks and outward straining of the entrance, so that I most charmingly glided slowly into the glowing furnace that was awaiting with such lascivious desire to engulph and devour my longed-for prick. For, as I have before observed, my dear aunt was gluttonous of a bottom-fuck, after being so fucked in cunt as I had already served her. It was so deliriously tight and hot that I lay in the exquisite rapture of complete insertion for some minutes. I had seen my aunt's arm move in a manner to convince me she was frigging her own clitoris, in fact, the movement of her hand frigging herself was felt by my codpiece. I let her continue, until finding by the involuntary wriggling of her bottom that she was about again to spend, I aided her with my prick, and had hardly made many moves before she poured down another tribute of lust, with a squeal of delight, and with such pressure on my prick as nearly drove him at once to a similar discharge. I did my best, and succeeded in not following suit. My aunt was insatiable, and I was glad to let her spend as often as possible, and I so managed matters that she spent again before joining me in the final crisis, which seized us together, and we died away in joyous cries of thoroughly, though but momentarily, satisfied desire. I sank on that magnificent back, as the languor that follows the ecstatic moment overtook me, but it was only for a short time. The exquisite internal pressures that my amorous and glorious aunt was exercising on my delighted prick were too exciting not to rapidly produce a reaction; nonetheless rapidly that it was in such a delicious retreat as the pleasure-giving aperture of that gloriously exciting backside. I was lying down on her broad back, so passing one hand round to her large but firm bubby, I took its nipple between my fingers. The other hand sought the knob of her still stiff clitoris. I excited both while making a very gentle move with my hardly fully standing prick. I felt at once how this gratified her, indeed, she often afterwards assured me that such frigging, with the movement of the softened prick gently working within her, was most exciting, and almost better than when it was in full force. I soon made her spend again. Another of her delights was to have a stiff prick shove away into her the instant after she had spent, when she herself was at the moment incapable of action on her part. She in after-days proved that her greatest pleasure was to have a fresh-standing prick near, to take the place of one that had made her spend, and had spent itself, and have it thrust into her with all the vigour and lust the sight of the previous fucking had inspired and fired it with. At this moment, as I had not spent, it was the exact counterpart her libidinous imagination could have desired. I fucked and frigged on until we both gave down in cries of joy our united tribute to Venus. We both sank this time down on the couch in utter forgetfulness of all but the ecstatic bliss with which we were overcome. We long lay soaking in all the delightful sensations my adorable aunt's convulsive clutchings of my prick with her delicious close pressures excited. At last she begged me to withdraw, although she could feel me now re-stiffening under the delights of that exquisite interior. I would fain have recommenced. + +"You must not, my dear boy, it is more than nature can support, and I must consider your youth; you have delighted me even beyond previous delights—rise then my love, and let me embrace, thank, and love you as I shall always do." + +I rose, and we threw ourselves into each other's arms, lovingly kissing and tongueing each other. Aunt then buttoned me up, first kissing and taking a mouthful of my prick for a moment between her lips, and then putting him away, calling it "my pretty doodle." I seized the expression, and said— + +"Dear aunt, you called it my prick just now, and begged me to fuck you, and to shove it well into your cunt. Are these the real names for my doodle and your Fanny, and what does "fuck" mean, my darling aunt? Do tell me, dear auntie? and teach me the language I ought to use when you are so kindly relieving me of the pains of my now so frequent hardness. I don't know whether you have observed it, dear auntie, but I never enter this summer house with you, but it becomes painfully hard at once; to be sure you give me such exquisite pleasure in relieving me that I could wish to have constant hardnesses as long as you were near to calm them. Is this natural, dear aunt, or a disease? Pray tell me, and teach me all the endearing terms you so lavish upon me while I am reducing my hardnesses." + +My apparent simplicity evidently pleased her. She probably thought, too, that as I must sooner or later really thoroughly understand the nature of our intercourse, it would be much better she should, as it were, make a confidant of me, and attach me more securely to herself. She begged me to be seated and she fully explained everything to me. Of course I was even better acquainted than herself with all she communicated, but I confirmed the idea she evidently entertained of her being my first instructress by various naive remarks on all she was telling me. Of course I proved an apt scholar, and by my close-put questions brought out all her own knowledge, and left nothing for me to learn. At the end, I said— + +"Do all women have such a delightful sheath—cunt I mean—between their legs as you have, dear aunt?" + +"Yes, my darling; but you must never stray to others; you will find none so fond of you, or I may add, without vanity, so capable of satisfying this dear fellow; but come, I see it will be dangerous to allow him to stay here longer." + +She rose, but I quickly unbuttoned and produced my prick in an almost grander state than ever. I begged of her to let me have one more "fuck" now that I knew what it all really meant. I put it into her hand. Her own previous descriptive lesson had aroused her lasciviousness. She fondly grasped it, and stooping down, kissed it, saying she could not resist its eloquent look. Throwing herself back on the couch, with her clothes up, her feet on the edge, and her legs apart, her glorious cunt lay open in its moist magnificence. I threw myself on my knees and gamahuched her until she spent: and now, knowing her greatest letch, I instantly brought my bursting prick up to her foaming cunt, plunged in and began a furious movement, accompanying it with all the most endearing bawdy phrases she had just, as she thought, taught me. + +"Oh, my most gloriously cunted aunt, do I fuck you? Wriggle your arse faster—that's it! Do you feel my prick up to the hilt in your delicious cunt? Oh! what pleasure you do give me!" + +She replied as broadly. Passing her hand down she pressed my cods, and asked if thus squeezing my ballocks added to my pleasure. + +"Oh, yes, my love, your cunt, your arse, your bubbies, are all delicious. Oh, I never before knew there could be such additional pleasure to our fucking as using these endearing words produce." + +We were both so excited by the bawdy terms we so profusely used that we went off in the utmost excess of ecstasy, and died away thoroughly satiated with our libidinous and most lasciviously delicious fuck. It was time to finish. So sliding off her, I again buried my face in her delicious gaping and foaming cunt, my mouth, lips, nose, and cheeks were covered with sperm; she drew me to her lips and licked it all off. Then repairing our disordered dress we returned to the house, and found the doctor impatiently awaiting us. Our flushed and excited faces at once showed that we had been indulging in the greatest excess. He joked aunt upon her skill in allaying such frequent attacks as I now appeared subject to. + +Aunt informed him that she had inadvertently in her lust made use of expressions which had betrayed so much to me that she had found it necessary to leave me nothing more to learn, and I was now fully aware of the true nature of our connection; after luncheon he himself might further enlighten me, for she was certain that complete confidence would be the best policy to pursue; it must come about, sooner or later, and it was far better it should come from him than that I should learn it elsewhere. He said she was quite right, and that he would further instruct me after luncheon, so we set to work on the viands before us, to which I did ample justice. + +I was thus, as they supposed, newly initiated in the mysteries of the coition of the sexes. I shall reserve further details of our more intimate and expansive experiences for the third volume of this true Romance of Lust, and still of Early Experiences. + +After the luncheon, which closed the last volume, a churchwarden occupied uncle for about an hour. When he had left off, uncle proposed a walk in the garden. I could see at once what this was meant to lead to, as he almost immediately turned in the direction of the summer house. When we got there he sat down on the couch, and begged me to sit beside him. He opened the subject at once by saying— + +"My dear Charlie, I am very much pleased that your aunt has opened your eyes to the real nature of our actions with you, which your simple innocence had imagined to be a mere kindly relief to the overgorged vessels of your virile member. Accident might have made you acquainted with this through some less interested channel, and you might have innocently betrayed your future position. I believe you to possess a large fund of good sense and discretion, and the advice I shall give you as to the conduct to pursue in future will not only be received with confidence as meant for your future good, but listened to attentively and acted upon. The world, my dear boy, and by that I mean Society in general, condemns the practices we have lately been indulging in with you. Their narrow prejudices ignore the fact that nature alone prompts to these delightful acts, and that the great God of nature gifted us with the powers necessary for their performance. But, as the world has chosen to brand them with its censure, men of prudence, like myself, whilst apparently conforming outwardly to such stupid prejudices, know how in secret to fully enjoy them. I am blessed in your darling aunt with a wife who fully understands and humours my desires. She is rarely splendid in the glorious beauties of her body, and in temperament hot as the most erotic of our sex could desire. Even in your ignorance you must have felt the wonderful power of conferring carnal ecstatic pleasure she possesses, and have heard how, in the energy of her passion, she allowed her lust to betray her into the use of grossly bawdy terms, but which, as they have enlightened you when best prepared to receive such knowledge, is rather fortunate than otherwise. I speak thus frankly to you, my dear boy, because I have found you of a rare facility in giving and receiving erotic pleasures, and of a temperament worthy of the descent from the same stock as your aunt. You are worthy of each other, and formed to enjoy to the utmost each other's carnal delights, and I bless my happy star that has brought you both under my own roof. Henceforth there must be no secrets between us. It was at my earnest wish that your aunt relieved you; and, of course I had my own object in view. In the first place I require some extra excitement to be able myself to indulge in these delightful combats in love's domain. You and your aunt's copulations were to me more exciting than you can imagine. You will have observed, too, what is the real quarter to which, when excited, I pay my devoirs. Glorious as is the backside of your incomparable aunt, your young charms, virgin in that respect, excited me still more. I began by gentle touches, and then tried the insertion of my finger, when I saw you were far too busy operating within the orbit of your lustful and lusty aunt to observe or even feel what I was doing. I found a facility about your bottom as perfect for enjoyment as your truly magnificent prick or cock was fitted for operating in its way. It was then I suggested to your aunt to mount upon you, and afterwards made you aware that your aunt possessed another aperture which could equally well allay what you then looked upon as a source of pain. My object was to lead you to the same point. Your innocent docility lent itself with easy simplicity to all my desires. I saw that you entered readily into your aunt's glorious bum-hole, and allowed me to work with two fingers in your own. Finding that it rather gave you pleasure than otherwise, I proposed to abate my own stiffness in your bottom. Your affectionate docility enabled me to obtain unfailing ecstasy. Your after-fucking of me, while I was in my wife's bottom, conferred the utmost erotic bliss upon me, as you have experienced when operating and being operated upon. These—these are the moments of a felicity your stupid prejudiced worldlings know nothing of; and these are the pleasures which, now that we have initiated you into all their secret mysteries, we will enjoy to the utmost. To the true votaries of these love orgies grossness of language is a stimulant to passion. + +Fuck-frig—bugger—cunt—prick—ballocks—bubbies—arse-hole—are all sacred words only to be pronounced when in the exercise of love's mysteries. At all other times a guarded decency of word, act, and gesture is imperative, as enhancing the delight of an unbridled vocabulary in the voluptuary of raging lust. I shall from time to time inculcate sage precepts on this point—enough for the present. Let us now indulge in mutual embraces." + +So ending, he took me in his arms and glued his lips to mine. Our tongues met. Both our hands wandered, his on my prick, which immediately responded to the touch, my hand was placed on his prick, but which was only at half-cock. I rapidly unbuttoned, and brought it forth, then stooping I took it in my mouth, and sucked it and fingered the root with my hand. Then passing my other hand below, I sought to penetrate with my finger into the interior of his fundament. He rose to a standing position to enable me to enter his anus more easily. His prick quickly standing fiercely showed how much I excited him. I ceased not until he was in an agony of pleasure—forcing my head down on his prick until it entered almost completely into my mouth, and shooting his sperm right down my throat. I continued to suck and frig him until I produced somewhat of a restiffening of his prick. He begged me to rise, that he might take mine in his mouth, desiring me at the same time to take off my trousers and lie down on the couch. I did so. He knelt at my side, and first handling and examining it with loudly expressed admiration of my noble weapon, he took its head in his mouth, and then with his hand on its lower shaft, and finger up my fundament, brought on a similar crisis as that I had produced on himself. He just as greedily swallowed all. I had allowed my hand to fall down by the side of the couch, where it encountered his prick, which had resumed its pristine vigour. + +"Come my dear uncle," said I, "and let us put it into its favourite corner." + +I rose, and kneeling, turned my backside full in his face. He stooped, caressed, kissed, and tongued the rosy orifice. With the plentiful saliva with which the operation of sucking my prick had filled his mouth, he moistened my bum-hole and his own prick, and then easily glided up to the hilt within my delighted backside. Resting for a while in all the ecstasies of insertion, which I heightened by my internal pressures, he seized my prick which had stood again at once at the pleasing sensation occasioned by the introduction of his prick in my bottom. Thus frigging my prick and fucking my arse, with occasional pauses to lengthen out our pleasures, he at last brought matters to a most exquisite termination, and died away in cries of joy as we poured forth a mutual torrent of sperm. Uncle continued soaking in all the blissful after-sensations, which I did everything in my power to enhance by the delight-giving pressures of my sphincter muscle. When he withdrew and rose to his legs, he helped me up, and drew me to his bosom, and we had a long kiss of gratified desire, tongueing each other the while, and handling our ballocks with mutual gratification. My uncle was profuse in his praises of my docility and aptitude, declaring that his pederastic enjoyment of my person excelled all he had ever experienced in his long practice of the habit, and my delicious sideways wriggle was superior to the very fine bum-fucking his adorable wife had the art of giving him: then there was the further excitement of handling the very finest prick he had ever met with. + +"It is no flattery to you, my dear Charles," he said, "but mere justice to its superb dimensions and admirable power." + +Here he stopped, and sucked anew its reeking head, getting a few more drops out. We then purified ourselves—a basin with water was kept in a small cupboard purposely for such occasion, for I afterwards learned the place had been the scene of innumerable contests of the same kind with aunt and other boys. Having readjusted our disordered habiliments, we left the grounds, and took a long quiet walk in the fields; the good doctor inculcating admirable advice to me, whom he considered an innocent tyro in love's ways. Nevertheless, all he taught me only strengthened my high opinion of the wisdom of dear Mrs. Benson, and the adorable Frankland, whose opinion of what was likely to happen to me at the rectory had been so quickly realised. We returned in time to dress for dinner. The evening passed as the previous ones. I was conducted to my room, and left alone to recruit my forces by a quiet night's rest. I may here incidentally mention that it was a rule of uncle and aunt, very rarely departed from, to send their favourites to their lonely couches as a means of restoring their powers, and reinvigorating them for daylight encounters—both the dear creatures loving to have the fullest daylight on all the charms of their participants in pleasure, at the same time yielding an equally undisguised inspection of their own. This was their principle reason, but they also considered it advisable as a restorative, and a useful precaution not to overstrain the energies of the youths they both so much enjoyed. My late experiences at home had already taught me the advantage and utility of a quiet night's rest after frequent contests in the fields of Venus and Juno. + +I slept on this occasion with a deep and continuous slumber, until I was awakened by my uncle, who came to summon me to the arms of his wife, who, in the splendour of her full-blown charms awaited me in her own bed, naked as the day she was born. Her arms outstretched, she invited me to the full enjoyment of her glorious person. The doctor drew my night-shirt over my head, and in a moment I was locked in the close embrace of that superb creature. We were both too hot to wait for further preliminaries, but went at it in furious haste, and rapidly paid our first tribute to the god of love. The doctor had acted postillion to both of us, with a finger up each anus. The exquisite pressures of my aunt's cunt reinvigorated me almost without a pause, and we proceeded at once to run a second course. Uncle got three fingers into her divine bottom-hole, as her legs were thrown over my waist, and her immense buttocks well thrown up enabled him to have full play between the cheeks of her backside. This double operation made the dear lascivious creature spend again in a very few movements, and giving her hardly time to finish her discharge, I fucked on with double force, and with prick as hard as wood, as fast I could work. This furious onset, which was the most exciting thing she knew of, rapidly caused a third discharge. To prevent my own prick from spending too quickly, I held somewhat back; then again we went at it fast and furious, and the dear lustful creature, with cries of joy, spent again with me, and fainted from excess of pleasure; but her glorious cunt continued to throb on my delighted prick, as if it would nip it off by the roots. I never met with so lusciously large a cunt, or one with a greater power of pressure. She could quite hold even an exhausted prick a complete prisoner in these most delicious and velvety folds. Great as was the power of Miss Frankland's cunt in that way, aunt beat her. I may here mention an occurrence that took place some time after this period. It was during a rare opportunity from an accidental absence of the doctor, when I was sleeping with my gloriously beautiful aunt. I had fucked her to her heart's content before we slept, and again on waking, in full daylight, after which we rose to relieve our natural wants. I laid myself down on the floor, that I might completely see my dear aunt piddle from her splendid cunt. It was a glorious sight, which instantly fired my passions and was at once followed by a fuck on the floor, my aunt's enormous backside being quite cushion enough, and we enjoyed the novelty of the thing amazingly. She was loud in her praises of my indefatigable prick, which, with its vigour and superb dimensions, was beyond all she had ever seen or felt, and just fitted her large and luscious cunt, which had never before been so well filled. This remark reminded me of a desire I had long had to have a thorough investigation of that immense and splendid object. I expressed a wish to that effect. + +"My darling boy, anything you like, you could not have a better opportunity, my legs point to the window, so you have the fullest sight—look, feel, frig, fuck, or bugger, all is at your free disposition—only give me a pillow from the bed, as the floor is too hard for me to continue so long as you are likely to be." + +I jumped up and gave her two pillows. Then laying her limbs wide open, with knees bent, the magnificence of that luscious cunt lay in all its grandeur before me. I have before described what a large, but splendidly proportioned woman she was—small feet, and clear-run ankles, large, but admirably turned calves, very small knees, above which rose the very finest and fleshiest of thighs, worthy supporters of what I have already described as the largest and finest backside my eyes ever lighted on. Immense hips, and wonderfully and naturally small waist, above which were her superb, large, fine, and firm bubbies that stood out when naked, as hard and firm as those of the youngest of women; a charming neck, and well-posed head with most pleasing and beautiful features crowned the whole. Her arms were superb, and equal in proportion to her other grand and splendid limbs. The flesh was of the most delicious creamy white, without a spot or a blemish. The hair of the head, plentiful in the extreme, and so long and thick that when undone it fell all around her and below her superb buttocks, so that she could shake it out all round, and completely hide her nakedness. Often and often has she allowed me to pose her in every way, and shake it out all over her, and well she might, for no matter how often I might have fucked her previously, it was sure to produce at least three more encounters, one of which was always in her backside, a most favourite way with her and which she declared was by far the most pleasurable provided the other aperture had been previously well fucked. With such a taste, of course, her greatest pleasure was to have two pricks in her at once, the ne plus ultra of erotic satisfaction. To return to the inspection I was about to describe, which was really the first at my full disposition, for although I had often gamahuched, felt and seen the beautiful object, it was when my passions were excited, and when the gratification of lust alone prompted me, a state of mind opposed to close observation of natural beauties. Now, repeated tributes to the god of lust had cooled my ardour for the moment, and left me to the perfect enjoyment of the sight before me, with the temper to inspect its full-blown beauties in the minutest way. I have said before that my aunt had one of the broadest, most prominent, and most beautiful mounts of Venus that I ever saw. It was thickly covered with beautiful silky fair curls, which did not hinder you from seeing her exquisite skin below. The sweep round, to pass between her thighs, was bold and graceful. In the middle was a well defined semi-circular depression, from whence the large, thick and beautifully pouting lips of her cunt commenced, which in her present position lay partially open. You could just see where the clitoris lay snug. I have already observed that this was not largely developed, nor were the inner labia of her cunt at all projecting, indeed, they were not visible, unless her legs, with bent knees, were stretched apart, as at present. On each side of these luscious pouting lips, and the long immense pinky gash, was a triangle of considerable space, such, in fact, as is only to be seen in a woman of the splendidly large proportions of my aunt; this was covered as much as her mount with fair silky curls, which ran down to her beautiful corrugated and rosy bottom-hole. Nothing could be finer or more beautiful than the sight, as she thus lay fully exposing every part in the broadest daylight. After handling and admiring all, I laid the lips well back and apart, and there they kept open. Nothing could be more charming than the interior of that most enchanting cunt, of an exquisite salmon-pink in colour, nothing was out of order. The clitoris, which bulged out in excitement from my touches of all the parts around, lay first in the upper partition of the pouting lips; then became below, slightly open, a charming entrance to the urethra, larger than usual, to allow the mighty rush of waters to pour from it when piddling; below this was the opening of the vagina, which I parted with my fingers, and could see even to the corrugated sides of that exquisite pleasure-giving sheath; then followed some sinuosity of pinky flesh, whose duty it was to stretch to allow the largest prick to penetrate. Half-an-inch beyond was the rosy orifice of her bottom. Such was the exquisite scene before my delighted eyes. I proceeded with my internal examination. Thrusting in three fingers of each hand, I forced open by literal pressure the lips, until I could see to a depth of four or five inches. It was a most beautiful sight. The sheath appeared to have ribs running round it about half-an-inch apart, and I could see they were the means of causing the exquisite pressures her cunt could so ecstatically exercise. Indeed, excited by my attouchements, I could see them contracting and relaxing. It was, doubtless, these ribs that seemed to exercise a sort of peristaltic motion on the prick, when reposing at full stand in that glorious cunt. I was able so widely to open this splendid vagina that I thought I would try to get my hand altogether in. Projecting my fingers forward, with the first and fourth drawn under the middle ones and the thumb between, I pushed them forward, and as the whole cunt was reeking with my last discharge, and was well lubricated, I glided on; there was a little difficulty at the knuckles, but I exerted a slight, gentle pressure, and in all went. Aunt winced a little, and asked what I was doing. I told her. + +"It is all in, my darling?" + +"Yes, Auntie." + +She closed upon it, and squeezed it quite hard. + +"Oh, how nice!" she exclaimed, "push it further in." + +I advanced, and could feel the end of her womb, which appeared like three points to fingers and the thumb drawn together, and looked at endways is something like what it felt—of course, without the nails. Aunt asked me if I could double my fist where it was. I had no difficulty, as the part yielded to the greater bulk. Aunt cried out— + +"My darling boy, that is delicious; push it further in." + +I did so, and began working within her, backwards and forwards. She wriggled her splendid backside in ecstasy, and before I had made a dozen movements, poured down upon my hand and arm a torrent of almost boiling liquid, and went off with a cry of enjoyment. Her arms and legs relaxed, and she lay quite still in the utmost after-enjoyment, but with a pressure on my arm and fist quite wonderful. Knowing how she liked the movement to be continued at such a moment, I worked in and out slowly. She soon recovered, and again seconded my movements, and again went off in all the fury of lust, accompanied with shouts of excitement, urging faster movements, and again went off in all the fury of her most libidinous nature, and spent most profusely. All this had now brought me into as furious a state as herself. I wanted to withdraw and substitute my prick, not only from the state of excitement I was in, but also to experience the effects of such a well-stretched cunt upon my lesser-sized weapon. But so tight did my aunt hold my imprisoned hand that I could not withdraw. I begged her to let it go, as I wanted to fuck her instantly, but she prayed me to give her one more of such exquisite manoeuvres, it was a joy beyond anything she had ever before experienced, so she begged her darling boy to join. On I went as she desired, and a more exciting picture of furious lust never met my sight. I helped her final discharge by thrusting two fingers in her bum-hole. Never shall I forget the grip she gave my arm and fingers when she spent. It was positively painful, and showed the enormous force of passionate lust. She went off in such a fury of excitement that I thought she had fainted outright. But her pressures continued all the time. It was long before she recovered her senses, and my arm was aching, and my prick bursting. At last she exclaimed— + +"Oh! where am I? I have been in paradise." + +"Dear aunt," I cried, "do let me out. I am bursting to fuck you, and I can't get my arm out, if you don't relax your grip of my wrist." + +"I can't help it, my dear boy, it is involuntary, put your other hand on my mount, and pull steadily, but not with a jerk." + +I did so, and really it required considerable force to withdraw it, notwithstanding I had previously unclenched my hand. I jumped immediately upon her, and at one bound plunged into that vast cavity, up to the cods. It immediately closed upon me, and tight as she usually held me, she really appeared to do so this time tighter than ever, so wonderfully gifted was that longest, highest, and most luscious cunt I ever fucked. You may easily imagine the rapid ending of such raging lust. I spent with cries more like the braying of a donkey than any other sound, and then lay like one dead on that glorious belly, with head reposing between the firm and splendid bubbies, aunt clasping me to her bosom, panting with all it had just granted. We lay long in ecstatic trance of the delicious after-sensations. Our mutual internal throbbings gradually re-excited all our passions. With renewed ardour I quickly made my lascivious and libidinous aunt spend again on my delighted prick, which kept ramming at her during the swoon-like pause which spending produced; she had taught me this was exquisite delight to her. She soon resumed the full swing of her lust, but suddenly stopping, said— + +"Charlie, my darling, withdraw, and shove it in behind." She quickly turned round, with great agility, prompted by the excess of her desires. I was behind her in an instant, and as my prick was reeking with the fuck she had just so plentifully bedewed it with, and the divine lower orifice had also received its tricklings, I had no difficulty in pushing firmly but not too forcibly right up to the meeting of her stupendous buttocks and my belly. She sighed deeply with delight, when she felt me fully imbedded, and began the delicious side wriggle, while I remained for some minutes quiet, that I might enjoy the superb beauty of those mighty orbs, in all their play of passion. Aunt grew furious with lust. Her hand was actively frigging both clitoris and cunt. She called out to me to shove on; two or three thrusts on my part, and the dear, lecherous creature again poured down her nature. I paused to restrain my own discharge, but made my prick throb within its most exquisite sheath, which never ceased responding most deliriously. It was but for a minute or two, when my own fierce passion drove me to very energetic action. My delighted aunt seconded my movements, fast and furious grew our sport, until, with cries of the wildest lust, we both spent deliciously together. I sank on her glorious bottom and back, and by embracing her superb bubbies with both hands, until her exquisite pressures again renewed my forces, and drove me on to another delightful career, in which again the hot lust of my aunt drew down from her several discharges to my one. At last we sank both together, in all the joys of fully satiated desire. Again I lay for some time on that broad and beauteous back, until aunt said I must withdraw, as she had great natural want. I instantly withdrew, out he came with a loud plop, followed immediately by a tremendous succession of farts. Aunt professed to be quite horrified, but I only burst into a loud fit of laughter and told the dear creature to fart, piss, or shit, whenever she felt inclined, I should only love her the better. She said she must at once do the latter, and was running off to the water closet as soon as she could hurry on some clothes. But I drew out the chamber, and begged her to sit down there at once. It would give me pleasure and excite me as well. She was too hard pressed to hesitate, so sitting down, she had a "hell of a let-fly" as a military friend of mine used to say. I stooped over her back, caressed her bubbies and when she turned up her delighted face, our lips were glued together in a loving kiss, while my nose sniffed the really delicious odour that came from her. When she had done, she begged me to hand her a towel to wipe herself. + +"No, no, my darling aunt, nothing of the sort; stoop down forward on to your knees, and I will lick the delicious orifice clean with my tongue." + +She laughed, kissed me, and told me I was a darling boy, just after her own heart, but hardly expected I had already acquired the tastes of my uncle, the rector, whose letch lay in that practice. She let herself down on her knees as her sublime arse raised itself from the pot, and stooping her head low down, presented her immense buttocks before me, with the chink between well stretched open. I move the pot on one side, threw myself on hands and knees, and eagerly kissing the exquisite orifice, greedily licked it clean, and thrusting my tongue well within, rolled it about, to the great delight of dear aunt, whose passions were instantly aroused, and her divine backside began to wriggle. I shoved my thumb up her cunt, and frigged until she spent. Meanwhile my own unruly member had become distended to his full size, and was throbbing with desire. So raising my body erect, I brought him again to the rosy orifice I had just been tongueing, and to my aunt's infinite delight, again housed him as far as he could go, and again began active operations, which I continued until aunt's lasciviousness again made her spend. I paused a little after this, or otherwise I should have gone off myself. Stooping over the glorious bottom, I replaced her hand with my own, and began frigging her clitoris, till her passions, again excited, made her begin ecstatic movements, in which I joined until the grand crisis seized us both together, ushered in with cries of joy. We spent, and sank down sideways on the floor in quite a death swoon of ecstatic and satisfied lust. Here we lay quite exhausted for some time. At last aunt let me out, and begged me to rise. + +"I must purify you, my darling boy, as you did me." And seizing my limp prick in her mouth she sucked it clean, until she began to feel symptoms of the resurrection of the flesh. She hastily rose, and said— + +"No, Charlie, you have done far too much to-night. I must see you to your bed, that you may get at least a couple of hours sleep." + +She took up my night-shirt, threw it over me, led me to my bedroom, tenderly embraced me, and thanked me for such a night of pleasure as she had never in all her life enjoyed the equal. Then locking me in, she retired to her own bed. It may well be supposed that after such exertions, I slept the sleep of the just for many hours. My aunt had frequently come to look at me, but seeing me in so sound a slumber, would not have me disturbed—a politic proceeding, as it resulted in a fuller indulgence in the summer house that day than would have happened if my powers had not been restored by refreshing sleep. + +This kind of life had been going on for nearly three weeks. The doctor became less easy to move. One morning I had fucked my aunt twice; the doctor's prick at the end of the second had stiffened to about half stand. I took it into my mouth, which, with handling his ballocks and postillioning his bottom-hole, brought him up to the-full standard. He proposed to bugger aunt while I did the same kind office to himself. A caprice seized me, and I proposed, on the contrary, that we should both fuck aunt's capacious cunt at once. Aunt, for form's sake, cried out against it, but the idea tickled the fancy of my uncle, who would not only enjoy all the beauties of my aunt's glorious backside in motion, but could postillion her as well. So I lay down on my back, aunt mounted me, and presented her splendid bum to the attack of her excited husband. He first thrust his prick up to the hilt in her luscious and well-bedewed cunt; when well lubricated, he withdrew, to allow me to make my place in full possession, then bringing his stiff-standing prick against the root of mine, pressing it well down, he gently shoved forward, and gradually sheathed himself within the well-stretched and capacious orbit of my aunt, who winced a little in pretended pain, but who, by the grip she immediately gave to the double fuck within her, showed how much gratified she was. After a pause of enjoyment, I gave the signal for exact joint movements, both pulling out gently, and sliding slowly in again. Two or three thrusts, aided by the doctor's finger in her bottom-hole, sufficed to make dear leacherous aunt spend profusely. We increased our speed, but still not fast, which quickly re-awakened all aunt's lust. Before we ourselves were ready, the dear lascivious creature again poured down her nature, boiling hot, on our delighted pricks. This produced such excitement upon us that we could no longer restrain our own desire to come to the ecstatic conclusion. Our movements became more rapid. We each felt the electric-like sensation of the approaching crisis. Aunt doubly felt the influence of our increasing speed and hardness, and was as ready as ourselves to pour down the tribute to the goddess of love or lust, holy Mother Venus. The novelty, the pressure, and the excess of pleasure declared itself in the loud cries of the last crisis, as we all died away in the enrapturing sensations produced by the intense satisfaction our desires had experienced. We lay long wrapped in the after-ecstasy; aunt's delicious internal movements began again. The doctor's prick had shrunk to a merry piece of inanimate dough, and he withdrew, begging us at the same time to change our position, and let him enjoy seeing me attack my aunt in rear. This inflamed me at once. Aunt rolled from off me. I took my place behind, and we ran a most delicious course, rendered much more excitable to me by the introduction of uncle's two fingers up my fundament, which kept time with my action in the delicious aperture of my aunt's most superb and glorious backside, the movements of which beneath my delighted gaze had not been the least stimulating part of the enjoyment. The crisis was most ecstatic, and I sank exhausted on her broad buttocks and beautiful back, to clasp her lovingly in my arms and sob out bawdy terms of the warmest endearment. The doctor, who had very much enjoyed the sight, but who pointed out the sadly downcast state of his prick, which had been in no wise excited by the scene, said to his wife— + +"My darling, we must have recourse to the grand remedy, I will also initiate dear Charlie into a new mystery of love, of which he can have no idea." + +I guessed at once what he meant, but professing extreme ignorance, I begged him to tell me what it was. Aunt rose and said— + +"My darling, your uncle requires his blood to be excited by flogging his buttocks with a birch rod." + +"How odd," said I, "I never felt anything but the severest pain when I was flogged, and I took precious good care not to deserve it again. How then can it excite?" + +"You shall see, my dear." + +She opened her wardrobe and produced a formidable rod of fine fresh-cut birch twigs. The doctor begged me to lie down on my back—he got over me, and we commenced sucking each other's pricks. Mine stood at once, as the doctor, in addition to sucking, thrust a couple of fingers up my bottom-hole, and frigged away as fast as he sucked. The doctor's buttocks were left at the mercy of aunt, who flogged away at them with no gentle hand. I spent before the doctor could quite get his prick to standing point, but the copious torrent I poured into his mouth, and his after-suction on my prick, in addition to the red raw state of his buttocks, at last brought him up to full stand. He wanted to put it into me when ready, but aunt said that as flogger she had herself become greatly excited, and must have it herself. + +"While this dear prick," throwing herself on it, and sucking it, "shall fuck me at the same time." + +I was quite ready, and she straddled across me, and guided my now longing prick into her luscious cunt. She soon stopped, and we tongued each other while the doctor was mounting to the assault on her delicious bottom-hole. As soon as he was housed, we began another charming course, in which aunt, as usual, spent frequently before our less lecherous natures were ready to join in one general and exquisite discharge. We went off in furies of delighted lust, and then sank exhausted in the delicious after-sensation. We long lay in the sweet inanition and luxury of satiated lust. At last we disconnected ourselves, rose, and laved each other with cold water, more as a restorative than as a purification. Aunt and I had two bouts after—one in front and one behind. The doctor would not allow a fresh application of the birch, as he said it would only produce so great an exhaustion as would require days to restore. I retired after this, but ever afterwards the doctor was regularly birched before he could even copulate once. Sometimes he required to flog my aunt's glorious bum to excite his fading powers, declaring that it was almost as exciting as being flogged. He even gave it me gently, although I hardly ever required it, but I professed my surprise at its efficiency. + +The holidays were at an end, but I was as yet the only boarder. There were, however, some twenty or thirty youths from the neighbourhood, who were day scholars at the doctor's school. Among these the doctor had his pick in the flogging way, but he never allowed them to know anything of our other proceedings, or to imagine that the birching which took place was otherwise than as a punishment for faults or inattention. However, I was generally the chosen companion of these whippings, in which I acted as horse, or holder of the boy to be flogged. Of course I took good care to expose as much as possible their lovely cocks, as well as their plump bottoms, and as this excited me as well as the doctor, it often ended, after the culprit was dismissed, in my flogging the doctor, followed by a mutual rack off in each other's bottoms. + +There was one fine, plump, girlish-looking youth, named Dale, who was here for the first half. He had not as yet been brought up for punishment, although the doctor had confided to me the letch he had taken to flog his fine fat bottom. One day, Master Dale brought a sealed note from his widowed mother, who lived about a mile from the village, in a charming cottage ornee. The doctor read the note. By chance I was looking at him, and saw a smile of joy light up his features. + +"Come here, Master Dale," said he in a mild and gentle voice, "your mother tells me that you have behaved in a most shameful manner to your pretty young cousin, who is residing with your mamma." + +Master Dale blushed scarlet, for he was not aware until now that any one had been a witness to the scene that had taken place between him and his pretty cousin. + +This was what had passed. The cousin, a lovely girl of fifteen, was in a secluded spot in the garden, near an arbour, the preceding afternoon. She was bending down, tying up a flower close to the ground, which made her stoop to such a degree that she could only reach it with ease by having her legs wide apart. Her back was towards the walk by which young Dale was advancing. As he approached unheard by her, he could not fail to see peeping out between the stretched open expanse of snowy drawers the inner part of her well-rounded globes of dimpled ivory. Her shift had somehow worked upwards, and revealed all the charms of her delicate young bum and plump white thighs. The sight inflamed the youth beyond measure. He crept up noiselessly quite close to her, and, stooping down until his head was below the level of her raised petticoat, he feasted his eyes for some time with the lovely prospect before him, her little virgin rosebud slit, its pink and pouting lips, plump little mount already delicately shaded with a curly foliage that promised soon to be much more dense, together with the swell of her lovely young thighs and calves. All this was quite unsuspected by the object of his admiration, who was absorbed in her garden operations. At length, however, the excited youth could not resist the temptation of applying his soft warm hand to the parts he was admiring, which made Miss scream slightly—she thinking it was some insect up her petticoats—exclaiming— + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" + +But turning her head round, she discovered the delinquent. + +"Forgive me, Ellen dear, but really you exposed so very pretty a sight while stooping that upon my word I could not help it." + +Now girls are curious as well as boys, perhaps more so; and if the truth must be told, Miss had for some time past longed for an opportunity to become better acquainted with things in general, and, therefore, thought here was a chance not to be thrown away. So, after some little show of resistance on her part, for decency's sake, it was agreed between them that he should have a good look at hers, if he would afterwards show her his. Miss Ellen had never seen a male "diddle," as she and her young playfellows called it, not even that of a boy, and she was all excitement and expectation to feel with her own hand the "funny thing," for so a communicative servant-maid had described it, who at the same time had fully explained the theory of its use, which made Miss long to obtain some practical knowledge also. So to the arbour they both adjourned. Miss Ellen first lay back upon the seat, while the young rogue unfastened her drawers, and pulling them down, feasted his eyes with a full view of her virgin charms as long as he pleased, for Miss Ellen was a lecherous little maid, who really felt a precocious pleasure in being thus exposed to the close observation and admiration of one of the opposite sex, although for form's sake she covered her blushing face with her delicate little hands. He touched it, pressed it, rubbed it with his finger. Her thighs trembled and opened. Taught by nature, he imprinted a burning kiss on the lovely little quim before him. She sighed, and mechanically put her hand on his head and pressed it closer to her naked skin. Guided by his feelings, he indulged in movements of his lips and pressures which speedily excited the amorous little maid to such an extent as to make her give down with a deep and trembling sigh the first tribute of her virgin cunt. Feeling the warm liquid oozing from the pouting orifice on his closely pressed lips, he could not help tasting it with his tongue. This reawakened very quickly the sensibilities of the lecherous little thing, and awoke her to the desire to practise a like pleasure with his cock. So reminding him of his promise, she made him stand up before her, while she undid his trousers with her fairy fingers, all trembling with excitement, and drew out his stiff affair, which already gave promise of a very respectable future, now swollen to a size it had never before known. Delighted at the sight of so bewitching a plaything, she made him lie down as she had done, and kneeling beside him, with cheeks glowing with excitement, she closely examined every part of the rampant little member. Strange to say, no hand, hardly even its owner's, had as yet invaded its virgin precincts, and it had not yet had its ruby head fully uncovered, although he was upwards of fifteen. The delight caused by the touch of her warm hand pressing and encircling his stiffened cock was most exquisite. She was not long, however, before she became curious to see what could possibly be underneath the skin that covered its rounded head. In her toying she sought to draw the skin back over the head, a slight cry of pain from him caused her to stop. But when, be she young or be she old, is a woman's curiosity to be baulked. She had managed to draw it back a short way, and now it suddenly occurred to her that by the help of a little moisture her object might be accomplished without hurting the dear fellow. By an impulse of passion she stooped and took the rosy head into her delicious little mouth, closing her coral lips around it, and lubricating it with her tongue, to the intense gratification of the youth, who involuntarily wriggled his body about voluptuously, and could not help raising it up to her mouth. This movement, combined with the pressure of the lips, perfectly succeeded, without further pain, in completely unhooding the charming little cock she was so deliciously embracing in the soft folds of her lips. She lifted up her head to see the result. The tight foreskin had closed below the nut, and left the now fiery red head bursting with excitement, and visibly throbbing with intensity of passion. Her joy and delight at this full revelation of the "funny thing," as she continued to call it, now knew no bounds. She drove him nearly frantic with her ardent caresses—she again drew the covering over the vermillion head, and still finding that it did not easily return again, she thrust her head down upon it, and with lips, mouth, and tongue began again her attempt to unhood it. Poor Dale was brought up to the wildest state of excitement, his hands involuntarily pressed down her head, his body rose to meet it, and at that ravishing instant the grand crisis seized him, and, with a cry of delight, he shot forth his first tribute to Venus within the delicious mouth in which he was enclosed. The ecstatic gush poured down the throat of the dear girl, and she gulped it all down by the mere effort to avoid choking. Poor Dale's hands fell down insensibly from her head, which she instantly withdrew, and gazed on the youth. To her great surprise she beheld the so lately rampant weapon drooping its head and withdrawing within its shell, while some few drops of a milky white creamy like liquid were slowly oozing from the small orifice off its head. While she gazed it reduced itself to a mere shadow of its former state, and the foreskin slowly covered again the so lately fiery and bursting head. She was lost in wonder, and was about to express her surprise at the strangeness of the whole affair, but they now became aware that footsteps were approaching. Fortunately for them, as they thought, the noise of the gravel underfoot was distinguishable at such a distance that they had time to arrange their clothes, and when Dale's mother appeared at the arbour, she found them, on entering, quietly seated and talking together; and thanks to the youth's discharge in his cousin's sweet mouth, without any tell-tale flushings of his face. Little did they suspect she had already seen all. + +This then was Master Dale's misconduct, and this it was that had been fully and minutely detailed in the note sent by this mother to the doctor, with a request that he should punish him well in whatever way he should think proper. The note further begged to know the terms for his becoming a boarder with the doctor, as she could no longer have him residing in her house with her orphan niece, whose guardian she was. You may easily imagine the double delight of the doctor. Another boarder, a point of some consequence to him after a previous scandal which, although hushed up, had deprived him of house pupils; and now with two, he foresaw a quick return to his full number; and then his delight at having to flog young Dale, and the erotic pleasure of drawing from him the exciting description of their young loves and voluptuous actions. + +"Now Master Dale," said the doctor, "you and I have an account to settle, follow me." + +And without a word further he led him into his private room, where, as was generally understood in the school, he birched the worst offenders. Arrived in the room alone with the young culprit, he locked the door, and taking a large cutting birch rod from a closet, sat down on a sofa. He called the youth to him and told him to unbutton and let down his trousers, and tuck up his shirt well under his waistcoat. This being done, the doctor said— + +"Now, Master Dale, we shall see if this birch will cool your itching for feeling your pretty cousin's private parts." + +Poor Dale had never yet been punished more severely than by the hand of his mamma, and certainly trembled at the sight of the formidable birch rod threatening his now bare bottom; yet, notwithstanding his fears, the allusion to the pretty private parts of his cousin so fired his imagination that his cock instantly stiffened and stood out, to the infinite delight of the doctor, who augured therefrom a future further felicity. Keeping him standing close beside him, and enjoying the sight of his youthful charms so deliciously exposed immediately before his eyes, he proceeded— + +"So, Master Dale, you have, it seems, been gratifying yourself with looking and feeling between the legs and thighs of a pretty young girl of fifteen, your cousin, is she not?" + +"Yes, sir," sobbed out the youth. + +The doctor's gaze was fixed upon the stiff and rampant member of the youth, watching the throbbings produced by every allusion to the luscious scene of the day before. + +"Now, come, tell me all about it," said he, putting his arm round the sobbing boy's waist, and making him stand still closer beside him. "Was she such a very pretty girl?" + +Another throb of the rampant member. + +"Yes, sir." + +"And you saw all her legs, thighs, plump little bottom, rosy pouting little slit"—(throb—throb—throb)—"moist with the dew of excitement and amorous play eh?" + +The little machine seemed ready to burst at the thought of it. + +"And did it have the same effect as I see it now has on this? Dear me, how naughty it is." + +And here the lecherous doctor took the rampant little cock in his hand and pressed it. + +"And what did she do to this, did she touch it so?" squeezing it gently. + +"Yes, sir," stammered out the youth, who was getting greatly excited. + +"And so?" said the doctor, passing his hand gently and caressingly up and down the stiffened and throbbing little cock. + +"Yes, sir." + +"And so, too, I'll be bound," pushing back the foreskin off the head, and as quickly replacing it, several times. + +"Ye—es. Oh! sir; oh! oh!" + +The boy's feelings, as the doctor swiftly frigged his cock, began to be exquisite. The doctor could not resist the temptation of bringing things to a crisis. Clasping the youth tightly with one arm, he continued his toying with the plaything in a quick exciting manner, apparently without reflecting upon what he was about, uttering, at intervals— + +"Dear me," and "how naughty it was of you; but how pretty she must have been to tempt you to do so, was it not?" + +The lovely youth was now in paradise. In the exquisite sensations of pleasure he felt he was losing all consciousness when the doctor suddenly stopped short and said— + +"This is indeed, a pretty piece of business, seducing your young cousin; you must be cured of such doings in future by means of a good flogging with an excellent birch rod, and on this your saucy bottom." + +Here he let fall the arm that had clasped the boy's waist, and let his hand wander over the plump, hard, and lovely orbs. The doctor now took up the rod which he had previously dropped to occupy his hand with the charming young prick he had just been so deliciously frigging. Shaking the rod angrily at the now trembling youth, he exclaimed, in a fierce voice— + +"Now, you young rascal, down, down on your knees, and beg to be flogged." + +The poor boy was forced, trembling, to obey. This over, the doctor commanded the delinquent to lie down across the sofa. Reluctantly he complied, but at last he straddled across it with his snow-white plump backside fully bared to view, and a fair mark to the threatening rod. He looked like a young Adonis displaying his beauties to a satyr. The doctor was greatly excited at the lovely prospect, and gloated his eyes on the beautiful display, and, then and there, there sprang up a determination to fully enjoy the ravishing of these virgin charms before many weeks were over. Lifting the rod on high, he cried out— + +"Now, you young villain, I'll teach you to look up young ladies' petticoats again, I warrant." + +Clasping him tight round the waist, the rod descended smartly on the lovely hillocks of the boy's charming backside. + +"There! there!" cried the doctor at each blow. + +"Oh! sir, oh! Do pray forgive me!" screamed the beautiful youth, as he felt the stinging strokes descend on his hitherto virgin posteriors. + +"Oh sir. Oh! sir. I'll never do so any more. Oh! sir. I won't indeed. Oh! pray, sir, have mercy." + +The doctor, whose erotic passions were fully aroused, was deaf to all his entreaties, and kept on flogging harder and harder, and faster and faster while the poor boy's bottom bounded and tossed upon the sofa; but he was kept in a firm position by the strong arm of the doctor, who, to hold him the faster, had laid hold of the stiff cock still at full stand. + +"No, no," said he, "you shall not escape my cuts, I assure you," cutting at the lovely delicate buttocks with all his might. + +"Oh! oh! sir; mercy, mercy; I can't bear it." + +"You must bear it, you young rascal you shall have no mercy until I have made your bottom bleed for your crime." + +The poor youth, from the pain he was suffering, bounded up and down on the sofa as he felt the stinging blows descend upon his bottom. This action caused his standing cock to rub up and down in the doctor's warm hand, who seemed to have accidently laid hold of it. The effect was such that the poor youth hardly knew whether he felt most pleasure or pain, for while his posteriors were of a burning heat, the warmth flew to the opposite part, which was so deliciously clasped in the doctor's caressing hand. He ground his teeth with pleasure and pain, he ceased to cry out, but sobbed and moaned with the excess of indefinable feelings. The doctor never ceased lecturing him, dwelling continually on the beauties of his lovely young cousin and the scene in the arbour. He thought but of her, of her lovely pink little slit so sweetly shaded with soft downy short curls; how she had so charmingly caressed his cock, until he felt a heave and a shudder, another, a sensation as if he was going to expire, a short cry, a catching of his breath. Wildly and vigorously he thrust his member down on the doctor's warm hand, he shut his eyes, he felt not the rod, although the doctor redoubled the strokes with all the force of his arm, and drew blood at every cut. A bound, a convulsive start, and he felt as if his lifeblood were coming from him—out it spurted in large drops on the sofa and on the doctor's hand. The youth had with difficulty shed another tribute to Venus. For a moment or two he felt as if in paradise, but a sharp cut from the rod quickly aroused him. He was soon fully alive again to its tortures. + +"Why, you young rascal, what is this you have been doing on my best sofa, eh, sir?" said the doctor. + +Another sharp stroke demanded a reply. + +"I, sir. Oh! sir; indeed I—that is—indeed, I don't know." + +"No lies or evasions here, sir, for they will not avail you. Your bottom shall pay for this nastiness. Why, what is it? What can it be? I never saw the like of this in my life, I declare," and he examined it with his eyeglass, saying more to the same effect. + +Poor Master Dale was, we know, quite in the dark as to what it could be, or how it came there. + +"Has this ever occurred to you before," asked the doctor. + +"Yes, sir, yesterday, when my cousin was caressing it in her mouth," replied the frightened youth, "but I really don't know how it happened, and did not mean any harm." + +"Oh, indeed!" said the doctor, "your mother did not mention that, did she see you?" + +"No, sir, it happened just as she was coming through the shrubbery, and was all over before she reached the arbour." + +"And so your cousin took it into her mouth, why did she do that?" + +"She was curious to see what was under the skin of its head, and finding it would not go back without hurting me, she put it into her mouth to wet it and make it go back easier, which it did for the first time; she pulled it forward again, and again put it into her mouth to push the skin back with her lips, when I felt funny all over, and something came out of me into her mouth." + +"Indeed! Well, you must tell me all about that another time. This flogging will be enough for the present, but I shall punish you for your nastiness some other time. Put up your trousers, in a day or two I shall want you in this room to pay for your dirty conduct." + +The poor boy retired, sobbing hysterically. + +The second day after this the doctor sent for Master Dale, who, in the meantime, had occupied the bedroom next to mine. The doctor was in his private room in his dressing-gown, long and flowing, so that for the moment it concealed the fact that he had nothing but his shirt on below it. He received Master Dale somewhat sternly, saying— + +"Now, sir, for your punishment for your last nasty misconduct." + +"Oh, sir," said the frightened and trembling youth, "I really could not help it," and he began to cry. "Oh! pray, sir, don't flog me so hard again." + +"The more trouble that you give me, the harder will be the flogging. Now take off your jacket and waistcoat." + +The youth did so. + +"Now come close to me." + +The doctor then lowered down Dale's trousers, and raising his shirt, contemplated with great pleasure the pretty belly of the lovely boy, and then turning him round, under pretence of seeing if the weals of the last flogging were still visible, he gazed on his white firm backside and swelling thighs, examining the marks still left from the previous punishment. He then turned him round, and inspected the pretty little cock, which, under the mortal fear he was in, hung down its head in a limp and pitiable state. + +"And so this is the little offender," said he, applying his hand to it, and squeezing and pressing it gently. "What a naughty little thing it is!" + +The youth could not avoid showing the pleasure these lascivious caresses gave him, and smiled. + +"Oh, don't smile, sir, this is no laughing matter. Look at the marks of the mess you made on my sofa," pointing to it. "I can't have my furniture spoiled in this manner, so if your little cock is to be naughty again, I must flog you upon my knees, but first come here; take off these trousers, which hanging about the legs are only in the way—there. Now sit down on my knee, and tell me all about this naughty little thing." + +He drew aside his robe, so that the boy's bare bottom came in naked contact with his brawny naked thighs, and the youth could feel the doctor's prick swelling up, although that part was still covered with his shirt. The doctor, taking hold of the youth's now standing prick, asked if it had ever behaved so badly before the scene with his pretty young cousin. + +"No sir, never. I never thought of it until I got sight of her bare bottom and other parts by accident." + +The doctor continued his toyings, caressing the young balls, and feeling all over the plump and firm backside. + +"Why, he is going to be naughty again!" said the doctor, as the youth's prick throbbed under his exciting touches. "I must flog your bottom for all this, for it is very naughty and improper. Why, you seem to take a pleasure in it." + +"Oh, sir, I never felt anything so delightful," said Master Dale. + +"The more reason I should punish you, but remember, you bad boy, if you are to do that dirty thing again, you must do it on my knee, and not on the sofa." + +The doctor then took the birch in hand, and with his arm round the boy's waist, drew him to him, but before laying him across his knee, he slipped the boy's shirt over his head, leaving him stark naked in all the glorious fairness of skin and beauty of form. The doctor's eyes gloated over the charming sight, but becoming too excited to pause longer, he drew up his own shirt, displaying his fine pego at full stretch. He bent the boy's warm body over his brawny thighs, and with his arm pressed his glowing form against his own rampant pego—Dale's young stiffened cock rubbing against the naked thigh he lay on. The doctor now raised the rod, and said— + +"Now, sir, for your punishment, I must flog this round, hard, little bottom, till it reddens again." + +Whack, whack, went the birch rod, but with much less force than on the previous occasion, but still sufficiently stinging to cause the youth to move up and down, rubbing his cock against the doctor's thighs, and causing him such ecstasies as hardly to allow him to feel the blows. His warm soft flesh, too, rubbing against the doctor's large, stiff tool, soon put them both in a delirium of delight. The doctor then changed his position, and drew the boy more over his belly, so that his great prick could get between the boy's thighs, rubbing under his balls in the trough between the buttocks, while the boy's cock rubbed against the doctor's belly. + +"Now," said the doctor, "I have got you fast, and must teach you not to play such naughty tricks in future." + +Whack—whack, again went the rod, causing the most delicious movements of the boy's backside upon the doctor's excited prick, and not less upon his own, which was rubbing against the doctor's belly, giving fresh pleasure at each repetition of the blow. But neither of them had spent yet. The boy's bottom was now red with a glowing heat, and his cock was in a state of intense excitement, and the doctor's tool was as stiff and randy as possible. The doctor now ceased his flogging, and squeezing the boy tight against his person, said— + +"Well, you have not done that naughty thing to-day—the flogging has done you good." + +The lovely boy looked up and smiled. He had felt the doctor's large prick working away between his thighs, and pressing against the cleft of his buttocks. As the doctor relaxed his hold, the boy turned half round, thus releasing it from its confinement. Looking down, he beheld the large stiff monster imbedded in a forest of dark curly hair, presenting a startling contrast to his own small member, which was as yet hardly fledged with a silky down around it. + +"Ah!" said the doctor, who observed the flush of excitement the sight of his superior prick gave the boy, "what a shame it is of you to compel me to flog you in this manner, without my trousers. I must give you a lecture—so sit on my knee, thus," placing him so that his lovely bottom should press against the huge prick. Taking the boy's cock in his hand, he said— + +"How stiff it is." + +"Yes, sir, I can't help it." + +"Well, you must not play such naughty tricks. I can't allow it. You are too young yet." + +The doctor worked the skin of the sweet boy's cock up and down. + +"Was that the way your pretty cousin played with it?" + +"Yes, sir, and then she took it in her mouth." + +"And did you like to have it done to you, you bad boy?" + +"Oh! yes, sir, it is such pleasure." + +"Does it really give you so much pleasure?" + +"Yes indeed, it was most delicious." + +"Dear me, I must try if it would do so to me, take hold of my cock and rub it up and down, as she did, that I may know how it feels." + +The dear boy had already longed to do so, but had been afraid to say so. He now seized with avidity the noble prick, so stiffly standing beside him. He could hardly grasp it in his hand, and worked the skin up and down in the most delicious manner. The doctor was in ecstasies. + +"Oh, you naughty boy, to teach your master such bad things." + +"Is it not very nice, sir?" said the charming youth, as the doctor's buttocks responded to every stroke of his hand. + +"Well, it is, indeed, very nice, I could not have believed it; but if ever I catch you at it again, you may be sure I shall flog you." + +And the doctor responded to every rub upon his prick with another rub upon the boy's cock, until almost at the same moment a most delicious mutual spend was the result of their lascivious toyings. + +"Now," said the doctor, "put on your clothes, and remember you must avoid such naughty tricks in future, or your bottom will pay for it." + +The doctor made me aware of this, and arranged for a meeting of us three, under the pretence of inattention which I was to simulate and draw young Dale into some fault that would require punishment. It was also arranged that I was to initiate him still more into the secret pleasures of mutual satisfaction, so as to prepare him for still greater gratification to the lecherous doctor, who liked nothing better than "teaching the young idea how to shoot." + +Accordingly, after passing a delicious night with my lovely and glorious aunt and the doctor, in which we practised every delightful method of enjoyment, and in which the doctor stimulated himself by recalling and describing the exciting interview with the innocent youth, I left them, and entered young Dale's room. He had insensibly kicked off all the clothes, and lay on his back exposed, with his promising young cock at full stand, throbbing from time to time; and by the involuntary movements of his body, and the smile on his face, he was evidently realising, in his sleep, the scene he had enacted with his pretty young cousin. He was quite charming to look at, his young and throbbing prick was deliciously fair, and you could see the blue veins coursing through it, the top was only partially uncovered, the point of the head showing its vermillion tip in fine contrast to the creamy white and crossed blue veins of the stiffened shaft. His balls were as yet not fully developed, but such as they were, they formed a closely drawn up little bag, crimped and wrinkled, and felt as hard as stones. I gently handled them, which made him heave his bottom in evident ecstasy. It was all so beautiful and enticing, and I could not resist stooping down, and taking the delicious morsel in my mouth. Pressing the glorious head with my lips, I thrust, to his infinite delight, the foreskin back, his buttocks instinctively rose to meet my voluptuous and lascivious proceeding. He awoke on the instant, but in that dreamy state that made him think he was only realising the previous dream. His hands embraced my head, and pressed it down closer on the delicious prick which already touched the back of my mouth. He cried out in an ecstasy of delight. + +"Oh, my darling Ellen, what a joy you are giving me. Oh! oh! it is greater than I can bear." + +I felt by the electric stiffening of his young cock that the crisis was close at hand. I tickled his tightened balls with my hand, and pressed a finger hard against his bottom-hole, but without entering more than the depth of the nail, at the very instant that he poured his young tribute into my longing mouth. I immediately swallowed the greater portion, lubricating the still throbbing shaft with a part. For some minutes he lay on his back, with closed eyes, in all the after-enjoyment, heightened by the continued suction of his still throbbing prick, which I kept up for a short time. At last he opened his eyes. It was broad daylight, and when I lifted my head, his eyes seemed almost to start out of their sockets in a sort of incredulous surprise, at finding it was not his dear young Ellen, but me, his school companion. For a minute or two he was speechless with consternation, until taking hold of his fast receding little cock, I asked if I had not given him quite as much pleasure as his darling Ellen had previously done. + +"Is it you? and Ellen! how do you know anything about my cousin?" + +"Your cousin, is she? I did not know that, but when I came in, you were dreaming of her, and muttering in your sleep the delight she gave you by sucking your prick; so I thought I would give you the true pleasure of the thing, and thus realise your dream; besides, I, myself, not only love to suck a prick, but also to have my own sucked, and I could neither resist the opportunity, nor fail to be delighted that you should already have practical knowledge of its enjoyment—did I not give you the greatest pleasure?" + +"Oh, yes; it was most delicious, and then I thought it was my pretty cousin, even after I awoke, which made it doubly delightful, for I had no idea it would be so nice with another boy." + +"Why not? see this charming little fellow is already raising himself up again at the mere thought; look how its head is showing its ruby face, and how it throbs. Ah! I must suck it again—it is so delicious." + +I threw myself upon it, and devoured it at once, rapidly moving my head up and down, and titillating the orifice of the urethra with my tongue. I quickly drove him half mad with excitement. My mouth was full of saliva. I slobbered some out on my fingers, and lubricated all about the aperture of his charming backside, and then, as he became still more furious in the upward lunges of his bottom, and downward pressures of his hands on my head, I thrust my middle finger up his fundament, and worked away, frigging it in unison with the movements of my mouth. I drove him half frantic with pleasure, the ecstasy again seized him, and with a cry of agonised delight, and a convulsive shudder, he poured a still more copious draught of love's essence into my mouth, which, as before, I greedily swallowed. He lay panting in ecstatic joy for a much longer period than before, with convulsive upward thrusts of his still half-stiffened prick within my mouth, which still continued its pressures and suctions to his infinite delight. At last I rose. He held out his arms. I precipitated myself into them; our lips met in sweet embrace. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, and solicited him to do the same, and we had some delicious tongueing, nature having at once achieved his love education. We were closely entwined in a loving embrace. I had become terribly excited notwithstanding the hard work I had undergone during the night, and my prick stood stiff as iron pressing against his belly. Suddenly the thought occurred to him that he ought to gratify me in like manner as I had done him. He proposed it, and begged me to turn from off him, and lie on my back. I immediately complied, and pulling up my shirt, displayed my immense splitter in all its glory. + +"Good heavens!" he cried, "what an enormous cock! Why, it is bigger than the doctor's." + +"Oh! you have seen the doctor's, have you?" He blushed, and acknowledged it. I drew from him an account of their proceedings, which I already knew, but I was at the same time delighted to have surprised the acknowledgment from himself, in his wonder at seeing my large proportions. I made him show me all he had done to the doctor, and the doctor to him; as all this was paving the way for future proceedings with the doctor—in fact, the innocent youth was already playing into our hands. His admiration of and handling my prick was meanwhile exciting me up to the greatest pitch. As I had continued questioning him regarding his proceedings with the doctor, he could only play with my prick in his hands. Now that matters were getting too warm for further discussion, he stooped down, but could only get the head and a small portion of the upper part of the shaft into his mouth. His lips closed beneath the gland in the most exquisite manner. I begged him to grasp the lower part of the shaft with one hand, and to thrust a finger of the other up my bottom-hole, which I had already lubricated by spitting on my fingers and conveying the saliva in the desired direction. He obeyed with the docility of an apt apprentice—and thus working in unison, quickly brought on the ecstatic crisis. I seized his head in my hands, and, at the final discharge thrust it down on my delighted prick, as I poured out a perfect torrent of sperm, nearly choking the poor youth with the length of prick I thrust into his mouth. He was obliged to withdraw for an instant to take breath, but I was pleased to see that he instantly resumed his delicious sucking of my prick, which he continued to do until it gradually shrunk up to very diminished proportions. I then drew him upon me, and we had another sweet embrace of lips and tongues, and then, side by side, we held a long converse on erotic matters. He told me all the tale of his affair with his cousin, and, although I was already well acquainted with it, I was glad to draw all the particulars from himself. I had seen the note his mother wrote to the doctor. The minuteness and undisguised description she had therein given struck me as very strange, and I augured that she herself must be a lewd and lecherous person, to have done more than merely hint at the affair, instead of dwelling, doubtless in erotic delight, on such details. So I pumped him as to what sort of woman his mamma was. His description showed that she was a fine, full grown woman, old, in his opinion, but in reality in the prime of life, between thirty-five and forty. He had not scanned her proportions with any erotic thought and did not seem to attach the idea of the woman to her—only that of the mother. But I drew out of him that she was broad in the shoulders, full in the bosom, with a small waist, small feet, and small hands, a very fine head of hair, and fine eyes—evidently a desirable woman. Already I had set my imagination in play, and began to hope I might some day work my way into her favour. It will be found how well I succeeded, as these true memories will describe when I arrive at the period of my success with her. For the present I had advanced the erotic education of the dear youth considerably, and thus prepared him for further initiation at the hands of the doctor and his glorious and magnificent cara sposa, who had already determined to enjoy his first fruits in cunny land. We had a similar enjoyment, carried somewhat further the next morning, in which we practised more fully the frigging of the bottom, and discussed the pleasure it produced. I was gradually leading him on. That morning I purposely arranged that we should be late in entering the school-room. The doctor sternly reprimanded us, and told us we must attend him in his private room after twelve o'clock. Poor Dale turned pale as he heard this, dreading the punishment to come of which his experience was so recent and so severe. + +At twelve we, apparently ruefully, entered the doctor's sanctum sanctorum. He had preceded us by some few minutes, and had already donned his long dressing-gown, by which I was certain that he had at the same time doffed his pantaloons. + +"Now then, boys, you must prepare for your punishment, I cannot allow this evidently wilful inattention. Off with your clothes except your shirts and stockings." + +We hesitatingly stripped; poor Harry Dale weeping at the thought of the dreaded punishment. I deemed it prudent also to draw a long face. The doctor spread a towel over his sofa, saying we had such naughty cocks that we were constantly dirtying his sofa. He then desired us to kneel on it with our heads down, and our tails well up. He then rolled up our shirts, and tucked them in above the small of our backs, in doing which he indulged in various lascivious touchings, which excited us as well as himself, and all our three cocks were at full stand. Harry Dale turned his head to gaze at mine, and could not resist putting his hand upon it, and gently pressing its large stiff shaft. Young Dale's smaller, but very beautiful member, which was daily developing itself in a striking manner, also excited me, and I reciprocated his caresses. + +"This will never do," said the doctor, "I must flog this evil spirit out of you." + +He threw off his dressing-gown to be more at his ease, he said, and taking rod in hand, applied it gently in turns to each of our projecting bottoms. It was not for punishment but for excitement that he operated upon us. He quickly threw our bottoms all in a glow, and our excitement became intense, and we wriggled our bums in evident delight. This was the point the doctor wished to attain, that he might arrive at his desired object, which was the possession of young Dale's bottom-hole. + +"Stop, stop, my dear boys, I see you are at your naughty tricks again, but there must be no spending yet; get up. We must all strip to the buff, and I shall show you how they used to flog me when I was at school. Stand up, Charles." + +I did so, and the doctor for an instant handled, in evident delight, my huge stiff-standing pego, drawing young Dale's attention to its much larger dimensions than his own. + +"Now, lean half forward on the sofa. Dale, put your arms round his waist, and stow away this charming rampant little fellow between the cheeks of Charles' buttocks. Charles, do you spit on your hand, and moisten between the cheeks, and then press with your hand his throbbing young prick against the cleft." + +I did as directed. Young Dale felt so deliciously sheathed that he thrust his cock well forward. + +"Now," said the doctor, "you are properly horsed, as we used to say, and now, for a little more flogging of these fine hard, rosy mounts," and he lasciviously caressed them before applying the rod. + +Whack—whack—whack—fell the strokes, sufficiently sharply to make Master Dale wince and wriggle his bottom to and fro. Quickly the exciting pleasure overcame all pain, and his lust rising, he thrust furiously in the artificial channel he was operating in. I now shortened the grasp of my hand on his shaft, and pressing it somewhat upwards, raising my buttocks at the same time, I directed it so fairly upon the aperture that at the next push it entered fully two inches within; then again favouring his return stroke, he completely sheathed himself up to the meeting of his belly against my buttocks. I gave him a pressure which had an instant effect, and he began to thrust fast and furiously, evidently enjoying it to the utmost. I let him feel the full enjoyment of his new quarters, only telling him to lay hold of my cock and frig me; and then I cried out to the doctor— + +"Flog him well, sir, he has thrust his cock into my bottom-hole." + +This was the very thing the doctor most wished for. So he continued his flogging only to such an extent as to still more inflame the lust of the now lecherously excited boy, who shortly brought on the final crisis and died away in delight as he shot his first tribute within the divine temple of Priapus. At the moment of the crisis coming on, the doctor had ceased his flogging and wetting two fingers gradually introduced them into the bottom-hole of young Dale, and frigged him in unison with his movements into me, so that the ecstasy was almost more than the poor boy could bear. He lay almost inanimate on my back, but his still throbbing half-standing cock responded to the inward pressures I was exercising upon it. The doctor had ceased his flogging to admit and caress the well-formed posterior of the charming boy. Becoming greatly excited, he drew him off me, and closely embraced him, but professing at the same time to be greatly shocked; his prick, meanwhile, gloriously stiff, pressed hard against young Dale's belly. The doctor then relaxing his hold, young Dale gazed, with pleased enjoyment, on the size and stiffness of the doctor's cock, and, by an impulse of passion, took it in hand, knelt before him, and put it into his mouth, and sucked it lasciviously. The doctor placed his hands on Dale's head, and pressed it down for a minute or two, and then begged the dear youth to rise, as he did not yet wish to spend—thanking him for the exquisite pleasure he had given him. + +"Now," said he, "it is your turn to flog, so Charlie, you must be horsed upon me, and Harry Dale shall take a first lesson in the art of flogging upon your posteriors." + +The pose was arranged as before. My formidable weapon was placed between the cheeks of the doctor's fine fat backside. His hand pressed my cock as I had done to Dale's. Dale took the rod in hand, and at the very first cut made me wince, for the young rogue laid on with a will. The doctor had applied a good quantity of saliva to the end of my prick, and thrusting out his buttocks, he quickly guided it into the longing orifice, in which I vigorously sheathed myself to the utmost extent. I seized his cock and squeezed it gently, but he begged me not to make him spend, but to enjoy myself to the utmost, crying out, at the same time to young Dale— + +"Flog him well, Harry, for he has thrust his great tool up my bottom-hole; it is wonderful how it ever could get in." + +Indeed so little could young Dale believe in the possibility of such a thing that he stopped flogging to assure himself of the fact, by both touch and sight. I drew my prick out and in that he might be perfectly satisfied of the truth, and the doctor wriggled his backside to and fro to show what pleasure it gave him. Of course, all this was preliminary to the grand attack he meant afterwards to make on the virgin aperture in young Dale's bottom. After Harry had assured himself of the fact, he pitched into my poor bottom with redoubled vigour, which, though it greatly excited me at the moment, made my poor bum smart for days afterwards. I quickly sent a torrent of sperm far into the entrails of the doctor, to his great delight, but he tenaciously avoided spending lest his powers should fail to overcome the natural obstacle of a virgin bottom-hole, especially in one so young as Dale. Consequently, after retaining me for some few moments in the delightful pressures of the internal folds, he allowed me to withdraw, all reeking with my own sperm. It was now the doctor's turn to be flogged by me, while he was horsed on Harry's loins. As Harry had already found out what pleasure a bottom-hole gave to the plugger of it, and had also seen how the doctor seemed to enjoy, and so easily engulphed, the much larger weapon I possessed, he had no idea there could be any pain accompanying it, and consequently he lent himself entirely to every direction that was given him. He placed himself in the easiest position, stuck his bottom well out, stretching wide the channel between the orbs, and exposing a charming little rosy aperture most tempting to the sight; indeed, the doctor instantly knelt to pay his devotions to it, devouring it with kisses, and thrusting his lecherous tongue within its tight little folds, taking the opportunity to thoroughly lubricate it with his spittle. This preliminary, followed by a little frigging with his middle finger, which produced nothing but pleasurable sensations in the dear youth, completely captivated him. The doctor wisely informed him that the first attack was sure to be somewhat painful, but that if he felt it so, he was not to draw away his body, but simply to complain, and the doctor would instantly remain quiet without withdrawing, and he would then find that the strange sensation would rapidly pass off, and allow a further progress, which would be again arrested if the pain was renewed. In this way he would eventually find that the pleasure would become indescribably delicious, as he had seen how both Charlie and himself had enjoyed it. Poor Dale assured the doctor he might proceed at once, and he would be perfectly docile. So the doctor first asking me to suck his cock a little to moisten it well, put the charming youth in the best position, telling him to strain as if he wished to void himself, then applying his well-lubricated pego to the rosy orifice, by gentle pressure, he succeeded, with hardly a twinge of pain to the dear boy, in housing the head and about two inches of the shaft within the delicious receptacle. Here the pain became so great that young Dale would have withdrawn himself away from the doctor had the latter not taken the precaution to seize him by the two hips, and hold him as if in a vice, but without attempting a further insertion then. + +"Keep still, my dear boy, and I will not move, and you will find in a minute or two that the strange sensation will pass away." + +Turning his head to me, he said— + +"Charlie, gently frig the dear boy." + +I immediately did so, which rapidly had the effect of exciting him up to a pitch that made him forget all pain, and he even thrust his bottom further back, and as I had taken the opportunity of the pause to drop some more spittle on the lower shaft, a further gentle pressure forced it in almost up to the hilt. Here, again, young Dale cried out to stop, it was so painful. + +The doctor paused again. I continued caressing his now inflamed and stiffened prick. His convulsive twitches, caused by my lascivious caresses, were followed by involuntary wrigglings, which of themselves completed the entire insertion of the doctor's excited prick. He still continued quiet, allowing the passions of the youth to become still more excited. Then gradually and gently withdrawing, and as gently again thrusting within, he went on until the youth's movements betrayed the raging lust that possessed him—then the doctor increased his pace. I frigged on fast and furious, and in a few minutes they both died away in wild excess of the most ecstatic joy. As to Dale, his gaspings and wild cries of delight proved that the final joys were almost too great for him to bear. The doctor had drooped his head upon his chest, and closed his eyes, in all the gratification of having ravished the first fruits of this charming youth's beauteous bottom, and I could see by his momentary convulsive thrusts, and the pressures of his hands on Dale's hips to draw the bottom more completely against his belly, as well as by the broken sighs that heaved his bosom, how exquisitely he was enjoying his triumph. Gradually his cock reduced its dimensions, but even when quite down and soft, it left the tight sheath it was in with a "plop" showing how well and close those delicious folds had embraced it. The doctor would not allow young Dale to rise until he had embraced and kissed the lovely bottom that had just yielded him such intense satisfaction. Then, drawing the youth to his bosom, he embraced him most tenderly, and thanked him for the heroic manner in which he had borne the attack, and told him he would never suffer so much in after-attacks as he had done in this first taking of the virginity of his bottom-hole. + +It was thus this dear youth was initiated into our mysteries, and henceforward he became an apt disciple, and by being introduced into our interior circle, added much to the variety and enjoyment of our orgies. For, as may well be supposed, my glorious and most lecherous aunt thoroughly enjoyed the taking of his first tribute in the legitimate temple of holy Mother Venus. I was present on the occasion, which was supposed to be unknown to the doctor. The first coup was on her belly, the sight of which and her truly magnificent cunt wildly excited Dale, and his cock stood stiffer and really bigger than ever. It was quite surprising how rapidly it developed when once he got thoroughly into hardness. He fucked aunt twice, spending as rapidly as she herself, lecherous as she was at all times. I acted postillion to them both. I stopped further combats until I too could enter the field. So aunt mounted upon him, and falling forward lent her divine backside to all my fantasies. Twice we ran a course without changing. Then aunt herself claimed my big prick for the contentment of her randy cunt. We quickly changed positions. I, on my back, received dear aunt's delicious cunt on my stiff-and-hard-as-wood-standing pego. She straddled over me, and sank her luscious orbit down upon me until our two hairs were crushed between us. Here, by rising and falling, she had another delicious discharge before bending down to be embraced by my loving arms. She then presented her most glorious bottom to the wonder and admiration of dear Harry, who had been caressing and kissing it, and at the critical moment had thrust a frigging finger in, and turning his head in front had greatly increased the pleasure of my loved and lecherous aunt by sucking the large nipple of her wondrously fine bubby. When once she was fairly down on my belly, Harry scrambled up behind, and quickly inserted his already fine but still comparatively small prick, which, of course, found ready entrance where my splitter had previously opened and greased the way; but he gave a cry, almost of pain, or at least of surprise, on finding the sudden grip which my aunt, with her wonderful power of pressure, instantly gave him. At it we went, fast and furious, until again the grand crisis overtook my lascivious aunt, who spent deliriously. We boys both paused a second or two to allow her to enjoy her discharge to the utmost; then recommencing with increased vigour and speed, we soon both discharged at one and the same time our freights into the delighted vessels that were conferring such exquisite enjoyment upon us. Aunt, too, did not fail to join us at the ecstatic moment. We lay for many minutes panting in all the after-sensations of the most exquisite joys humanity can revel in. We kept it up for several hours, aunt sucking young Dale's toothsome prick while I gamahuched and postillioned her to her infinite satisfaction. In this way, and with repeated changes from one receptacle to the other but always both occupied at once, we at last gained a reprieve, and retired to well-deserved repose. The doctor, who had kept out of the way on this our first bout with my glorious aunt, afterwards apparently surprised us together, and, after giving us and receiving a pretty sharp flogging, he joined in all the ecstasies of our orgies. He especially delighted in being into my bottom while I fucked his wife, and he himself had the double pleasure of having young Dale's fast growing pego into his bottom at the same time. It was some time longer before I succeeded in completely sheathing my huge prick in the delicious bottom-hole of the dear youth, but at last I succeeded to the utmost extent of my wishes, and although I continued to hurt him for some weeks after the first attack, he could at last entertain me with perfect ease, and we were thus enabled to play successively into each other's bottoms, and every one of us enjoyed the exquisite delight of fucking and being fucked at the same time. + +As we grew more lasciviously intimate, I often turned the conversation on his mother and cousin. At last I told him, I thought from his description that his mother would be a good fuck, and that if ever I had the opportunity I might cover his attack on his cousin by fucking his mother; only we must lead her to believe that she took my virginity. The idea pleased him. He began to think his mother must be a desirable woman for me, as I was so largely hung; and then the opportunity that I would give him to enjoy his longing for his cousin was an inducement to second my views to the utmost. Towards the close of the half-year his birthday occurred, and his mother could not do less than have him home for the day. She felt that her niece would be in greater security when Harry begged she would allow him to bring with him the doctor's nephew—myself, to wit—telling her that we had become very close friends as well as schoolfellows. I had previously told him I should play the complete innocent, but should take care some time or the other during the day to put myself in such a position that his mother should get a glimpse of my prick, so that if not immediately successful, I might pave the way for future success. His birthday fell on a Saturday. We were only asked to spend the day, with the intention of returning in the evening. Accordingly, on the happy day we made our appearance after breakfast. I have before said that his mother lived in a very pretty cottage ornee, about a mile and a half from the parsonage. We were most kindly received by her. She first lovingly embraced her son, wishing him many happy returns of the day, declaring that he was much improved, &c. She then turned to me, and gracefully and kindly bade me welcome. The niece was a charming girl, just budding into womanhood. She blushed greatly in welcoming her cousin, and bashfully did the same to me. We spent the earlier hours in conversation; the mother having much to ask and to hear from her son, from whom she had never before been separated. I had thus time to scan her well. She was a fine, broad built, well standing up woman, with broad shoulders, and hips that gave promise of good form beneath. Without being beautiful, her face was a well formed oval, with really fine eyes, to which her son's description had hardly done justice. It appeared to me that a good deal of suppressed passion lurked in their expression, and I already began to think she would be a real bonne bouche if once we could come to close quarters. After luncheon we strolled in the garden. The leaves had already fallen, but the afternoon was bright and warm for the end of November. I told young Dale to keep close to his mother, and not show any wish to stray away with his cousin—feeling certain that if she became anxious about their movements I should have no chance to play off my little game. All went as I could wish, we threw his mother off her guard, and she then began to show closer attention to me. I acted the ingenuous and innocent youth to perfection, but at the same time, in thinking of her charms, I let my prick get up to half-stand, so as to show its large proportions under my trousers. I very soon perceived that it had struck her notice, and her attention became concentrated upon me. She questioned me a good deal, and especially sought to find out if peculiar intimacy existed between her son and me. I played the innocent, and professed that the utmost intimacy existed; but when she tried to find out if it had gone to what she really meant, I gave such an innocent character to our intimacy that she was quite convinced of my thorough ignorance of all erotic tendencies, and she became more endearing in her manner of addressing me. + +Harry and I had previously agreed that after I addressed to him some particular frivolous remark, he should seize the first occasion near a shrubbery to go on more ahead, and alarm his mamma by turning round a corner. Our stratagem succeeded. She immediately hastened to follow them. As soon as she had turned the corner I drew out my tool, now at full stand, and placed myself so that when she returned she should see it fully developed, while I would take care not apparently to see her, but be intent upon piddling. To the utmost of my wish it fell out. She had told her son to stop and returned to join me. My eyes being turned downwards did not let her become aware that I was watching for her, but I could see the bottom of her petticoats as she turned the corner, and also that she came to a sudden stop, which must have been at the moment she caught sight of the noble proportions before her. I took care to pass my hand once or twice backwards or forwards while pissing, and then shook my prick deliberately, and exposed the whole length and breadth of it for a minute or two before buttoning it up, during which I could see she stood perfectly still, rooted to where she had first stopped. After I had buttoned up, I stooped down, apparently to tie my shoe, but in fact to give time for it to be supposed I had not seen her previous approach. So when I rose up she was already at my side. There was a flush on her cheek and a fire in her eye that showed the bait was swallowed. My role was to play the perfect innocent, and appear quite unconscious of her having seen me. + +She took my arm, and I could feel that her hand trembled. She led me along, hastily at first, until we joined her son and niece. After that she became uncommonly endearing in her manner to me, making such remarks as she thought would show her that I was not so innocent as I looked, if my replies had jumped with her expectations. But I was in reality too experienced not to pay her off in kind, and ended in making her believe that she had a perfect virgin to deal with. We walked on, she was evidently much preoccupied, becoming at times quite silent for a minute or two, and then, gently pressing my arm, she would make some endearingly flattering remark, at which I would look lovingly but innocently up to her face to thank her for her kind opinion. On these occasions her eyes sparkled in a peculiar manner, and her colour went and came. After a while, her hand left my arm and rested on the opposite shoulder, in a half embrace, which became warmer and warmer, her conversation became more affectionate. She was profuse in her congratulations that her son had found so charming a schoolfellow; and here she halted, and turning half in front of me, said that she felt that she could love me as if I were indeed her own dear son; and, stooping slightly, she sought a kiss of maternal affection. I threw my arms round her neck, and our lips met in a long and loving kiss—very warm on her side, but a simple though affectionate kiss on mine. + +"Oh!" I said, "how happy I shall be to call you my mamma, and I will love you as if you were it, it is so good of you to allow me to do so. This half-year has been the first time in my life that I ever was separated from my mother—and, although my dear aunt is as kind as possible to me, still I can't call her mamma. My guardian won't allow me to go home for the Christmas holidays, but now I shall have a dear, kind new mamma to make me happy." Here I again raised my lips for an embrace, which was given with even more than the previous warmth. Her arm had fallen to my waist, and she pressed me with energy to her bosom, which I could feel was unexpectedly firm, and even hard. I had great difficulty in keeping my unruly member down, that she might think I took her warm embraces as nothing more than affectionate friendship. I succeeded, however, and this, of course, more than ever convinced her of my entire ignorance of carnal desires. As I closely embraced her, and glued my lips to hers, she became greatly agitated, trembled visibly, sighed convulsively, and then pushed me from her, and seemed suddenly to recover herself, seized my arm, and hurried on after her son. For, as may well be supposed she had purposely loitered behind to allow them to get out of sight, before she indulged her uncontrollable desire to embrace me. She spoke not a word until we came in sight of them, apparently sauntering along, innocently enough. But Harry afterwards told me that having seen how his mother had halted to gaze at my prick, which he knew beforehand I meant she should see, he had watched us through the shrubbery, and afterwards had noticed her warmth of manner to me, and the loitering of her walk. He had turned a corner some distance ahead of us, and was out of sight when his mother stopped to embrace me, as described above. He guessed she would be in no hurry to follow him. So rapidly advancing with his cousin, he got some way before us, and choosing a place where he could see us through the bushes when we did follow, he sat down on a garden seat, and drew his cousin on his lap, asking her if she did not regret their hasty separation after their last delicious interview, and telling her his mother had seen them, which was the cause of his being sent as a boarder to the doctor. She was much surprised to hear this, as her aunt had never breathed a word of it to her; and she had been greatly distressed at his being sent away from home. Of course his hands were not idle; but first unbuttoning his trousers, he put his cock, now much increased in size, into her hand. She at once observed how much larger it had become, and began to caress it. He meanwhile was busy frigging her little clitoris. He found that she was already quite moist, and he had hardly frigged her a minute, when a sigh and an "Oh! how much more pleasure you give me than my aunt does." She spent profusely, grasping his prick with painful tenacity. Her breath was taken away for some minutes. When she recovered a little, and was gazing lovingly with half-closed eyes upon him, he at once recurred to her unexpected confession. + +"When does my mother do this to you?" + +"Ever since you were sent away; your mother took me to sleep with her, as she said, she felt so lonely after you left. For some time she used to embrace me very lovingly, and hold me close pressed to her bosom. As I always went to bed before her, I was generally sound asleep when she joined me. I used at first to wonder how when I awoke in the early morning my chemise was drawn up close to my neck, and your mother's was in the same state, and our two naked bodies closely united by the embracing arms of your mother. I even one morning found that my hand was held by hers against that part which you are now feeling so nicely. She had fallen asleep in this position, but I could feel that she was as moist there as you have just made me. I could not help feeling it was very nice, and gently removing her hand, I began to feel all over her in that part and, do you know Harry, she is all covered with such thick and curly hair there. In groping about, I felt the lips pouting and thick, and on trying I found I could get my fingers in. I pushed on, I got up to the knuckles, when I felt it give such a convulsive pressure upon them, and her body was projected towards me with a heave of her bottom, then drawn back, and pushed forward again, while her arms pressed me closer to her, and she commenced some loving expressions in her sleep. I felt something grow hard against my thumb, it was just what you have been feeling.—'Oh! go on,' she cried." + +"I renewed my tickling operations again, and I made her spend," Harry continued. "As she came to her senses, I gamahuched her; I thrust my tongue up her sweet little cunt, and licked up all the delicious spendings. As I rose, with prick erect and standing stiff out of my trousers, she seized it in her mouth, and, with very little sucking, made me spend to excess, and the dear girl swallowed it with all the luxury of the utmost voluptuousness. We had no time for more at that moment, as I caught sight of mamma's dress through the trees. I buttoned up hastily, and we strolled along, as if nothing had happened. It was in our after-walk, when we had allayed mamma's suspicion, that my dear Ellen continued her confessions." + +The stiff thing pressing against her thumb was mamma's clitoris, which, by her account, is wonderfully developed. She, knowing from her former experience with me that it was the point of most exquisite enjoyment, turned her finger upon it, and began awkwardly playing with it. It was at this moment that the greater excitement awoke mamma, who finding to her surprise what Ellen was doing, seized her hand, and pressing and rubbing it with more art against her clitoris, continued its action with exclamations of delight, declaring that Ellen was her dear precious loved girl, and then with a positive cry of delight, spent profusely over Ellen's hand. After panting for some time in perfect bliss, she turned and took Ellen in her arms, kissing her most warmly, and thrusting her tongue into Ellen's mouth, and then demanding hers in return. After much embracing, mamma asked her how she came to do what she found her doing when she awoke. Ellen described how she found her hand held against it, and then two naked bodies pressed against each other—that she was surprised at this, and wondered how it came so; that on moving her hand she felt mamma give a throb down there, and a push of her body forward, which made her finger slip easily in, this still more surprised her, as she had tried often if her fingers could get into her own, but it hurt her so much that she had given it up as impossible; and now she had found one where all her fingers, up to the knuckles, slipped in quite easily; the inside movements, and the heavings of her aunt's body, showed that it gave her pleasure. In continuing her movements she had felt a hard body at the upper part pressing against the side of her hand; she withdrew her fingers to feel this strange thing, and in doing so aunt awoke. + +"And you know the rest, dear auntie, I was so glad that I had given you so much pleasure." + +"Dear, dear girl!" her aunt replied, "I shall love you more dearly than ever; yes, and you, too, shall have the utmost pleasure. I have long wished to initiate you into the secrets of womanhood, but thought you too young to be able to keep secret such intimacy as we may indulge in. Often in your sleep with your lovely naked charms exposed to me, and pressed against my own lascivious person, have I enjoyed you, and even made use of your own hand all unconscious in sleep, to excite me to a still greater pitch; last night I had enjoyed you to the utmost, kissing your lovely budding and hidden charms, and must have unconsciously dropped off to sleep with my hand still pressing yours against my secret charm. But now I must initiate you into the same joys, even in a more exquisite way." + +"Upon this she begged me to throw off my chemise, while she did the same. We stood up to do this, and your mother took the opportunity to pose me in every way, admiring and kissing me all over. I did the same to her, and I can assure you, dear Harry, your mother is far better made that I am, both in the bosom and the bottom, and with such firm thighs and legs, and her affair is so well developed and pouting, and with such silky curls all around it. I can feel you passing your fingers through the curls of mine; but though it has more than it had when last you felt and caressed it, it is nothing to dear auntie's. When she had much excited me, and was evidently herself greatly so, she desired me to lie across the bed on my back, and to draw my knees up so as to let my feet rest on the edge. She then placed a footstool in front, and kneeling upon it, after first feeling and caressing me down there, she glued her lips to it, and after sucking a while began to play with her tongue upon what you have been so deliciously rubbing. She licked me most exquisitely, and soon made me die away in ecstasy of delight. She sucked it for some time after, while I lay in a languid state of joy. When at last she rose, she threw herself on the bed, and our two naked bodies became closely united in the most loving embrace. Her lips were wet with the moisture that had escaped from me, its peculiar aromatic odour m'enivrait and I could not help licking the creamy juice from off her lips. + +"'Oh, my beloved aunt,' I cried, 'you have given me the joy of paradise, I must try and do as much for you.' + +"'My darling Ellen, you will make me positively adore you. I now only regret that I had not sooner taken you into my confidence, as I at once perceive I might have done so in perfect safety. Yes, my darling, you shall indeed try, and I shall instruct you as we advance how to obtain the greatest amount of pleasure from our libidinous and lascivious enjoyments, delights that are without risk, and from which we shall have no anxieties as to fatal results, which are the consequence of connection with the opposite sex, who only make use of us for their own sensual enjoyment, and abandon us at the very moment they ought to console and cherish us the most.' + +"Dear aunt, again embracing me tenderly, threw herself in the same position I had previously lay in. I knelt on the cushion as she had done. But before proceeding to do as she had done to me, I could not help pausing to gaze with delight on her natural charms. Oh! dear Harry, you cannot imagine the beauty of that part of your mamma. Her stomach is of the purest white, smooth and firm, round and beautiful. Below a crease commences a large plumped out swelling seen through the fair and thick silky curls that so much adorn it, then grandly rounded sinks down between her thighs, and the beautifully pouting lips rise richly tempting through the thickest of hair, that goes far beyond between the large rounded orbs that project behind. At the upper part of the lips, where they form a deep indented half-circle, I could distinguish a stiff projecting object, as long and thicker than my thumb. I now know that this is the centre of exquisite joy. Your mother had since taught me to call it her clitoris, and says that although seldom so strongly developed as in her case, it exists in every woman and becomes stiff and excited as the final crisis of joy approaches. I glued my lips around this charming object, and sucked it, and played with my tongue around its point. Your mother, in an ecstasy of delight, wriggled her bottom below me, and with both hands pressing my head down on the excited point, gave utterance to the most loving and sensual expressions. She begged me to pass the flat of my hand under my chin, and introduce my thumb within the lips below, where I was sucking, and move it backwards and forwards as much as I could. I did so, and immediately found that it added greatly to your mother's delight. Faster and faster grew her movements, until, with a cry of delight, a firm pressure of my hand against her affair, and still firmer pressure on my thumb, she suddenly ceased all movement, her hands relaxed their hold of my head, the stiffness left her clitoris, and beyond convulsive graspings of the interior of her affair upon my thumb, she lay for some time inanimate. At last she recovered her senses, she seized me under the arms, and drew me upon her belly, her hands pressed my bottom down close upon her person, until I found that my affair was nestled in the rich profusion of curls that so finely adorned hers. She thrust her tongue into my mouth, and sucked off all the rich creamy substance that had flowed from her in such abundance. She blessed the happy chance that had led her to give me her confidence; told me that for long she had only enjoyed the unsatisfactory delight of lonely self-gratification, and said that now we should revel in mutual delight of every sensual indulgence that woman can have with woman. We lay for some time enjoying such delicious communings, until compelled to rise by the lateness of the hour. We have since practised every method of enjoyment given to two of the same sex. Your mother has often introduced her stiff excited clitoris within the lips of my affair as far as it would go, but I have always longed, my dear Harry, for you to penetrate still further with that larger and longer thing you have got, although what I have seen to-day of its increased size has made me greatly fear it can never get in." + +Thus ended her ingenuous description. Harry, of course, promised that he would never hurt her, that those parts were made to yield, that, doubtless, his mother's large clitoris had hurt her at first, but had given her great pleasure afterwards. + +Yes, that was so, and it was that that gave her courage, and if they could only get the opportunity she would allow him to do anything he pleased. + +It may well be supposed this account of Ellen's intercourse with her aunt fired my imagination and made me resolve to have her. Indeed, I began to conceive that there would be no occasion for me to make any effort, that all would be done by dear mamma herself. We had returned to the house after this agitated walk. Mamma was evidently greatly preoccupied, but at length she appeared to have come to a final determination, for she told Ellen to go up to her room, and begged us two boys, as she called us, to go out and amuse ourselves for an hour. It was during this interval that Harry narrated his interesting conversation with his cousin. Her lively description had set his imagination on fire, and he now declared his regret that it was not to be he who would enjoy his lasciviously sensual mother. Neither of us had any doubt but that she would now find an opportunity of enjoying me. If we had, our doubts were solved on re-entering the house. Mamma first, for form's sake, kissing her son, and then far more warmly kissing me, informed us that she had written to the doctor that we had been such good boys that she would feel greatly obliged if he would allow her son to remain with her until Monday, and also leave his nephew to keep him company and prevent any of his former misbehaviour which, she was happy to say, he appeared to have forgotten, but still it would be better he should have the safeguard of so intelligent and discreet a friend as she was glad to see he had found in the doctor's nephew. My uncle, without knowing exactly what to make of this note, had consented. Hence her joy in being able to communicate the pleasing intelligence—doubly so to me, as I immediately augured the downfall of my assumed virginity. Dear mamma was all radiant with joy, and conveyed me at once to where she intended I should sleep. I marked that it was in an out of the way room, easy of access, but not likely to be interfered with by passers-by. + +"And here, my dear son, for you know in future you are always to call me mamma, I hope you will find yourself comfortable, and that you will not be alarmed because you are in an out of the way part of the house, but in case you should, before I go to bed, I shall come to see that you are comfortably asleep." + +Here she kissed and embraced me warmly. I repaid her most affectionately, but apparently in all innocence. She sighed, as I thought with regret, that she could not at that moment go further, and then led me away. + +The afternoon, the dinner, and the evening passed away without anything worthy of remark, except that mamma was frequently absent and preoccupied. She sat by me on the sofa while Ellen played to us; her hand sought mine, and frequently squeezed it affectionately. Harry sat by Ellen, which enabled me often to raise my head and pout my lips for a kiss in a boyish way. It was never refused. She dwelt on my mouth sensuously with half-opened lips, but apparently afraid to tip me the velvet of her tongue. She frequently gave a shudder and trembled, and was evidently greatly excited. In the course of the afternoon, Harry and I had had an opportunity of exchanging ideas. I told him I was certain his mother would come to me that night, and he might be sure if she did that she would remain till daylight. I advised him to watch her, and when he saw her leave her bedroom to come to me, then he could slip into his cousin's room, and effect his purpose, but to be sure to retire at the first dawn. I said that if that time his mother wanted to leave me, I would keep her another quarter of an hour to enable him to put matters to rights with his cousin, and regain his own room. I advised him also to put a towel under his cousin's bottom, as he was sure to make her bleed, and he must take it away in the morning to prevent any traces of what he had done being perceived by his mother, and to tell Ellen to feign deep sleep on his mother's return, and to appear quite unconscious in the morning of her aunt having been absent. A little before ten o'clock mamma thought it time for her children, as she called us, to go to bed. Her son and niece both kissed her, and I, too, claimed a kiss of my new mamma. It was taken and returned in quite a passionate way, her lips seemed loath to leave mine, and her arms encircled me in a very loving embrace. "Dear mamma," I said, "I shall love you ever dearly." + +"My darling boy, I already love you as if you were indeed my son." + +She sent the others to their bedrooms, but escorted me herself to mine. I could see that she trembled greatly, and was evidently glad to put down the candlestick. She turned down the bedclothes for me, hoped I would sleep well, and, with considerable agitation, again embraced me most passionately. I could feel that her tongue would fain have thrust itself between my lips. I had great difficulty in restraining myself, but somehow I managed to do so. She at last left me, saying she would give a look in to see that I was comfortable before she herself went to bed. I told her it was very kind of her, but that there was no necessity for her doing so, as I always went to sleep like a top the moment I lay down. + +"I am glad of that, my dear child, but nevertheless I will look in, lest the strange bed should prevent your sleeping." + +And again she hugged me passionately against her firm and well-formed bosom, kissing me with a long, long kiss. Quitting me with a deep sigh, at last she said good night, and shut the door, apparently going away. But I fancied that she stopped short, and that I could hear her gently stealing back, probably in the hope of seeing me undress, and of catching a view of my huge pego. So I determined she should have her curiosity indulged. I hurried off my clothes, and before putting on one of Harry's night-shirts, which had been laid on the bed for me, I took up the chamber pot, and turned fronting the key hole, stark naked, and cock in hand. It was at half-cock, but when I had piddled I made it throb and raise its head, and gave it a rub or two, and a shake very deliberately, so that she might be still more bent on possessing it. I took up the night-shirt, and turning to the light, was very awkward in getting it on, so as to give time for a good sight of my prick at full stand against my belly. I then blew out the light, and tumbled into bed very quickly. I listened attentively, and could hear a deep half-suppressed sigh, and then footsteps stealing quietly away. I lay awake cogitating as to how I should receive her, whether to feign profound sleep, and so let her take all the initiative, or whether to pretend that the novelty of the bed, and thinking over her affectionate kindness to me had kept me awake. I decided upon pretending to be sound asleep, chiefly that I might see how she would carry out her designs, and also as allowing me to play the surprised one. + +In little more than half an hour after all had retired to rest I saw the glimmer of light through the key hole. I had studied a pose that would facilitate matters. I lay on my back, the clothes partially thrown off my breast, and the hand next to the side on which she must approach, placed above my head. Of course my cock was at full stand and as I had thrown off the heavy counterpane, it easily lifted up, and bulged out the sheet and light blanket. I closed my eyes, and breathed heavily. The door was gently opened, and she entered. She turned to close it, and I gave a peep through a half-opened eye, and saw that she had only on a loose robe de chambre, which was thrown open in turning, so that I could see there was nothing but her shift below. I even caught sight of her beautiful bosom, which at once caused my prick to throb almost to bursting, so that when she came to my side, it stood up most manfully. She paused, evidently intent on the sight. She then held the light towards me, and spoke in an undertone, asking me if I was awake. Of course I only breathed the heavier, and lay with my mouth half open, as if in the very deepest first slumber. She then turned her attention to the bulging-out substance, and ventured to touch it gently; then, growing bolder, she still more gently grasped it from above the clothes, and then turned the light on my face, but I gave not a sign. She then put the candle down, and, taking a chair, sat down close to the bed. Here she again spoke to me in a subdued tone. Finding no cessation of the deep breathing, she gently insinuated her hand below the already favourably turned-down bedclothes, and with great care slipped it down to my prick, which she grasped softly. I could now feel her whole body tremble, her breath came fast and short. She passed her hand gently up from the root to the head, its size evidently greatly exciting her. When she grasped the head, it gave a powerful throb. She eased her hand, and, I felt certain, turned to see if it had disturbed me. But I slept on profoundly. She seemed to gain more confidence, for both hands were now applied, and it was evident she had assumed a kneeling posture, the better to favour her designs. I could feel her pass one hand over the other, until she found the head was still partially above the third grasp. I heard her give an involuntary exclamation of surprise at its size. Her curiosity growing by what it fed on, she now commenced with the utmost caution gently to remove the bed-clothes, that she might see, as well as feel. When this was accomplished, she rose and brought the light, again passed it before my eyes, and then moved it down towards my prick. Being sure she was now far too deeply engaged to turn her eyes towards mine, I half opened them, and beheld her bending close over the great object of attraction. I heard her exclaim half aloud— + +"How wonderful! I never could have imagined such a thing, and in such an innocent boy, too. Oh! I must possess-yes—I must possess it." + +Here she grasped it more forcibly than before. Then, rising, she put the candle on the pot stand, which she removed to the foot of the bed. Then taking my prick in both hands, she gently rubbed it up and down, and even stooped and fondly kissed the nut. It throbbed more violently than ever at this, and I thought it time to start, and appear to awake. She instantly quitted her hold of it, and stood up, but was too agitated to think of covering me. I opened my eyes in apparent great surprise, but recognising mamma, I said— + +"Oh! is that you, dear mamma? I was dreaming such a nice dream about you. Oh, do kiss me," purposely not seeming to know that my person was all naked. + +She stooped and kissed me tenderly, saying— + +"My dear, darling boy. I came to see if you were comfortable, and found you lying uncovered, and with this extraordinary thing sticking up." + +She had seized it with her left hand, as she stooped to kiss me. On the instant, I determined to play off the same game that had succeeded so well with my aunt. + +"My dear mamma, I should not have dared to speak to you about that, but it does give me much pain, by becoming so hard that it throbs, as you may feel, at the least touch. I don't know what to do; and it makes me feel so queer too, especially at the gentle pressures you have just given it; dear mamma, can you tell me how I can cure it, and I will love you so dearly." + +Here she stooped and kissed me very luxuriously, actually thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I sucked it, and told her how sweet it was. But my prick becoming perfectly outrageous, I implored her to tell me what I could do to relieve it. She looked at me long and intently, blushing and turning pale by turns. + +"Yes, my dear boy, I could relieve you, but it is a secret that I hardly dare confide in one so young." + +"Oh! you may trust me, my dear mamma, you know I am becoming a young man, and men must know how to keep secrets, or they would be despised, besides, so dear and loving a mamma as you are to me would doubly make me keep secret anything you confide to me on those terms." + +"I will trust you, my darling boy, but you will at once see by what I shall do, how completely I sacrifice myself to do you good." + +Upon this, she threw off her robe, and sprang into bed by my side. + +"Oh! how nice of you, dear mamma," said I, as I took her in my arms, and kissed her lovingly. "Feel, mamma, how much harder it is, so tell me at once how I am to relieve it." + +"Well, my dear child, we women are made to relieve such stiffnesses as this; we possess a sheath to put it in, and then it gradually softens." + +"Oh! where—where—dearest mamma, do tell me?" + +She took my hand and put it down on her cunt, already quite wet with the excitement she had been in. + +"There, feel that, do you not find an opening?" + +"Oh, yes, but how am I to get in there—won't it hurt you?" + +"I will show you." + +She turned on her back, opened her legs, and desired me to mount on her belly, with my legs between hers, then guiding my rampant pego, and rubbing its great head up and down the lips to moisten it, she told me to push gently downwards, for it was so large that I would otherwise hurt her. Playing the novice to perfection, I awkwardly but gently soon thrust it in, up to the codpiece. She uttered an "Oh! oh!" when it was fairly hilted; then throwing her legs over my loins, and her arms round my waist, she begged me to move my bottom backwards and forwards, always thrusting it in as far as I could. Three or four pushes finished me off, in the great excitement I was under. She, too, died away with a great convulsive sigh. I took care to cry out— + +"Oh! my dear mamma—oh! stop. I am dying—I—I—am dy—dy—ing." + +Her convulsive internal pressures were delicious, and quickly roused my prick up again. She also had come to, and had glued her lips to mine—giving her own, and then asking in return for my tongue to suck. + +"Oh! what heavenly joys, my dear mamma, you did, indeed, reduce its hardness, but just feel—it has got hard again, you must reduce it once more." + +"My beloved boy, I shall always be ready to do so, but it must be the most sacred secret between us, or I should never be able to do it again." + +You may well suppose my protestations were of the strongest. At it we went again, and again, and again. Mamma declared that I was a most apt scholar. Four times did I pour into her foaming and fiery cunt torrents of sperm. At last she insisted upon my withdrawing, saying it would injure my health to indulge any more. So I withdrew, and we embraced each other most lovingly. I now expressed a wish to see the wonderful place that had given me the ecstasies of paradise. She lent herself with admirable grace and ease to my boyish curiosity, and even threw off her shift, making me do the same, that she too might admire the undisguised beauties of my form. There was no pretence in the great admiration I expressed for her really superb form, but I expressed it in a naive and innocent way, that made her laugh heartily, and confirmed her idea that she was not only the first naked woman I had seen, but that she was the first I ever knew, or who had taught me what sensual pleasure meant, and great was her delight in thinking she had taken my virginity, and been the first to initiate me in love's delightful mysteries. Of course, I did everything I could in order to carry on the deception she was so much pleased with, and I may add this was the last time I ever did so, for daily becoming more of a man, I took things by the forelock at once, and rarely failed to succeed. We got up, and she turned herself round in every way for me to see the rare beauties of her person—herself explaining to me where she was well made—bosom, buttocks, belly so white and smooth, without a wrinkle, although she had had a son. She was, indeed, one of those rare cases where nothing remains to tell of such an event. Her bosom, without being so large as aunt's, was gloriously white and firm, with such pink nipples, larger than in a maid, but sticking out hard and inviting a suck. Then her cunt—for she laid herself on her back, opened her legs, and allowed me the closest inspection. I have already alluded to her clitoris, as described by Ellen to Harry; it was charmingly developed, about half the length of Miss Frankland's, and not so thick. As I felt her cunt and introduced my fingers to hold it open, she got excited, and Master Clitoris raised his head, and came out of his corner in full stand. I professed great surprise to find she had a little doodle of her own. I purposely used the boyish expression. I began to play with it. + +"Oh!" I said, "I must kiss it." + +I did so, and began to suck it. She got dreadfully lewd, and seizing upon my now-again-standing prick, drew me upon her, and introduced once more my master weapon. With greater slowness until the final crisis drew near, we had another delicious fuck. She was a woman of very warm passions, and the long pent-up seclusion she had kept herself in with regard to our sex being once broken, now that the flood-gates were opened, there was no resisting the torrent of her lascivious passions. Twice again did we fuck without withdrawing. Then, after hugging and thanking me for the ecstasies I threw her into, she rose for a natural purpose, and advised me to do the same, and we would then both lave ourselves with cold water to restore our nerves. She laved me and I her. She then insisted on my lying down on my back, while she admired what she called the masterpiece of Nature. From seeing and feeling, she soon came to sucking. Up he got in a moment. Playing the ignoramus, I asked if it was not possible that we could both enjoy that pleasure at once. + +"Oh, yes, my dear boy. I am so delighted to find that this pleases you! Lie on your back, I shall get over you in the reverse way, and while I suck this enormous jewel, whose head I can hardly get into my mouth, you shall do as you like with my notch." + +"Is that what you call it, dear mamma?" + +"That is one name, and it has many others, but you men generally call it cunt, as we call yours prick, it is just as well you should know their ordinary names, as children only call them Fanny and Doodle." + +"Prick and cunt—oh! I shan't forget, so let me have that beautiful cunt to suck." + +We had a mutual gamahuche, and both greedily swallowed the double result, and continued our caresses of both parts, until they were again in full vigour, and inspired with a desire for more solid enjoyments. + +"My darling boy, you are so apt and excellent a scholar that I must show you there are several ways of allaying the stiffness of this dear fellow, who seems as desirous as ever to have his hardness taken out of him. I shall show you how my husband liked best to enjoy me." + +She scrambled up on her knees, and presented her very fine bottom, told me to kneel behind and give her my prick in her hand, which she thrust out backwards between her thighs. I did so. She told me it would appear to get further in this way, and, in fact, it did. After it was all in until thighs and buttocks met, she told me to admire, praise, and handle the splendid cheeks of her bottom, and said that such praise greatly excited her. Of course I did so, admiring not only their size and fairness, but also the beautiful curly silk meshes that ran between the cheeks, covered her beautifully pink bottom-hole, charmingly puckered as it was, and ran up to the flat of her back. After I had so excited her, she begged me to lean forward, and to handle one bubby while I should play with her clitoris with the other hand. I did all this tolerably well, but with somewhat of awkwardness. She said I would soon be perfect. We ran again two courses before she fell forward dragging me down without withdrawing, and then turning on our sides, still intertwined we fell off into a deep slumber, and did not awaken till daylight. Mamma jumped out of bed, unseating me by the act. She was alarmed lest the hour should be late enough for the household to be up. I tried hard to persuade her to reduce once more the hardness which had again seized me as she might see and feel for herself. + +"No, my dear boy, we must not be imprudent, my niece may have awakened and grown anxious at my absence, and she may rise to seek me; so good-bye, my darling, go to sleep again." + +She embraced me tenderly, but I could not prevail upon her to go further, although she promised to seek an opportunity during the day, and to give me as much as I liked the next night. She left me, and I pondered over the lucky chance that had put so desirable and fine a woman into my arms, and also congratulated myself on the stratagem by which I had fully convinced her that she was my first instructress in the art of love, a circumstance ever dear to the ardent imagination of the darling sex. I easily fell asleep again, wondering how Harry in the meantime had got on with his cousin. My dear mamma would not allow me to be disturbed. She had entered my room once or twice, and found me sleeping soundly. + +At last she again entered, just as I had satisfied a natural want for which I had risen. To rush to her, to embrace her tenderly, to fasten the door, and compel her, not much against her will, to come towards the bed, to beg her to lie on her belly on the bedside, to cant her petticoats up, to kneel and gamahuche her cunt from behind until she begged me to rise and fuck her, was but the work of a minute or two. And then my stiff-standing pego, aided by the mouthful of thick saliva occasioned by the gamahuche, was directed at her cunt, and driven home as far as the buttocks or her fine backside would allow. My prick being fairly sheathed, I paused for a moment to handle and praise the beauty of her posterior orbs. Then, stooping, I nibbled at her bubbies with one hand, and frigged her clitoris with the other. Sharp set, with my long rest and refreshing sleep, I rapidly ran a first course, but not quicker than the lascivious nature of dear mamma, who joined me in a copious discharge with the most ecstatic joy, and the most delicious inward pressures. For she was a perfect and most accomplished actor in the combats of love, and in her own way was worthy of my glorious aunt and my loved Miss Frankland, and as thoroughly accomplished as they in all the abandon of lust and lubricity, although at the moment I had only proved things in an ordinary way. Her exquisite internal suctions almost prevented the slightest relaxation in my delighted pego, and after a minute or two of indulgence in the after joy, I began again almost before dear mamma had recovered her senses, when she tried to tear herself away. But before she knew where she was I had succeeded in again firing her ardent and lascivious nature, and she became as eager for a second course as myself. This was naturally longer than the first fiery one. I raised myself upright on my knees, contemplated with the utmost delight the uncommon active play of her loins, and the exquisite side wriggling of her very fine backside. I loudly praised her delicious manoeuvres, and seconded them to the utmost, until getting more and more excited, fast and furious grew our movements. I bent down to second her by frigging her clitoris, and the final crisis seized us both with its agony of joy, and I sank almost insensible on her back. We lay for a short time lost to every thing, until mamma, remembering the risk we ran of discovery, begged me to withdraw, and let her go away. She rose and threw herself into my arms, glueing her lips to mine with a most loving kiss. Then stooping, she gave my now pendant prick a most delicious suck, making her tongue play into and around the mouth of the urethra. This was so delicious that the delighted member instantly showed its appreciation of the pleasure by starting up in full swing. Mamma gave it a pat, and said he was a most charming and delicious boy, who did not know how to behave himself. Again she kissed me, and tore herself away, but I could easily see the regret was as great on her side as mine. She told me her son had been as lazy as I was, and said that breakfast was waiting for us both. I quickly finished my toilet and found them all at the breakfast table. + +Ellen blushed deeply when she saw me. A glance from Harry assured me he had succeeded, and that Ellen not only knew what I had been about, but also that I knew what she had been doing. Hence her high colour when she saw me. I smiled, and nodded to her knowingly, and as she had observed the intelligent glance that passed between Harry and me, it did not tend to put her at her ease. + +Mamma, of course, knew nothing of what had passed in her bed while she was with me, and was all affectionate attention to the whole party, but with a marked tendency to pay me more particular attention. Our breakfast was late, so we had to hurry ourselves for church. Mamma drove Ellen in a small pony phaeton, while Harry and I took a short cut across the fields. + +Harry told me how he had watched his mother and had quietly approached my door, and as the bed was exactly opposite the key hole, had seen and enjoyed her proceedings, especially as he knew that I only pretended sleep. + +"By Jove," he said, "what a fine woman mother is! I could not tear myself away, and remained until you both went at it again, stark naked. My mother's beautiful hairy cunt, fine bubbies and backside, nearly drove me mad with desire. I could have violated her if she had been alone. And, then, her energy in fucking was superb. I could hold out no longer, but rushed to dear Ellen's side. She was asleep. I took her in my arms, and awoke her by feeling her delicious young cunt. She opened her eyes, and thinking it was mamma she turned round to repay the compliment, and started on having hold of my pego." + +"'Why! Harry dear, how came you here? We shall be caught by mamma.' + +"'Oh, no, my love, mamma is better engaged, and has slipped away to Charlie's room to get done to her what I am going to do to you.' + +"She was too much alarmed to believe me, and I was obliged to bring her to your door. I first peeped, and saw you were still at it. Mamma's legs and arms thrown around you allowed me to see your great big thing rushing in and out, and driving home with immense vigour. I whispered to Ellen to peep. While she did so, stooping, I sat down on the floor and gamahuched her. She spent almost immediately, and was so excited that it quite filled my mouth. I rose on my legs, and bringing my prick against her cunt, made an entrance as far as over the nut, but was myself so excited with all I was doing, and all I had previously seen, that I went off in an agony of delight and with a suppressed cry, which must have been heard by you and mamma if you had not been so busily engaged. Ellen had been so excited and so intent on the to her new scene enacting before her eyes, that she had never ceased gazing on it, and left me to do whatever I pleased, but my cry alarmed her, especially as in my last forward push I had sent her head with some noise against the door. She rose, and so unseated me from the slight hold I had got of her cunt. She turned round to embrace me most excitedly, and whispered that we must go elsewhere. I took her round the waist, and we quickly regained mamma's bed. The light enabled me to find a towel. I told Ellen it was to prevent any moisture betraying our acts. She was far too excited and wishful for the article to make the slightest resistance, or even pretence of refusal. I begged her to throw off her shift, as she had seen both Charlie and mamma were quite naked. She at once complied, being now as eager for the fray as myself. I, too, threw off my night-shirt. For a moment we embraced each other's naked bodies. My cock was as stiff as iron. She lewdly laid hold of it, while I handled her charming young cunt. I helped her onto the bed, she at once lay down on her back, and threw open her legs as she had seen mamma do. I stopped and gave her cunt, all oozing with her own and my spunk, a warm kiss, and with a lick or two on her budding clitoris, I fired her even to greater excess than she had yet been in. + +"'Oh, come to my arms, my dear Harry, and let us do as they were so delightedly doing.' + +"She had noted with what rapture mamma was enjoying you, and she had noted, too, what a much larger cock yours was than mine; so she had naturally reasoned that if one so big gave her aunt so much delight, my smaller one could not possibly hurt her, hence her eagerness to have me at once. I did not baulk her, but throwing myself between her widespread thighs, I soon brought the point of my prick to the longing lips of her little virgin cunt. I rubbed it up and down in between the pouting and self-opened lips, partly to moisten it, and partly to still more excite her lust. I then gently pressed it forward, and introduced just its head, and drawing it in and out, made her beg me to go further. I did so, slowly, until I found there was an impediment. I knew that I must burst through this and that it would hurt her, so I continued withdrawing and re-entering without going further until she became so voraciously lewd as to throw her legs around my loins and heave her bottom up to meet my thrusts. I seized the fortunate moment and with one downright violent thrust burst through every barrier and buried my prick in her up to the very hilt. The attack and its result was so unexpected by Ellen that when she felt the knife-like thrust of agony she gave a shriek of pain, and made an immediate effort to throw me off. I was too firmly seated for any other result of her struggles than the still more complete rupture of her maidenhead, which my forward thrust had partially effected. I lay for some time quite tranquil, and when her immediate pain wore off I commenced a gentle in and out movement, which, without exactly exciting her, produced a pleasing sensation. I then went on faster and faster until the crisis came upon me, and I shot into her a torrent of boiling sperm that by its balmy nature mollified the previous smarting; so that when I had recovered from the delicious ecstasies of my first success, and my prick gradually resumed its former vigour, I found by the somewhat increased pressure upon it that her passions were re-awakening. Three times did I fuck her before I withdrew, the last one appeared to give her more pleasure, but still she complained of a smarting pain as I passed over and over the shattered hymen. I advised her to rise and lave herself as a relief, and to wash away the stains of blood from her thighs. The towel was a fortunate thought on your part, but, in fact, I had followed in all my movements the sage counsels you had given me from the experience you had had in taking the virginities of Mrs. Vincent and your two sisters, or I should otherwise probably have bungled the matter, although my experience with your magnificent aunt had naturally put me up to all the art of fucking. I had some difficulty in persuading Ellen to let me put it in again, as she declared she had endured perfect agony when I broke through her maidenhead. However, I gamahuched her well, got her passions up, moistened the shaft well, and was very gentle in entering and in my first movements. I spent without making her do so. But the well-greased sheath now allowing more easy movements, she gave down her nature with considerable pleasure as I spent the second time. Still there was fear and restraint—fear lest mamma might come back—so I thought it advisable to retire to my own room, being quite certain that now the road is open her lascivious nature will not be long in enabling her to enjoy the sport to the utmost. By the way, she could not help wondering how mamma could take in your immense pego; why, she said, it was as thick as her wrist and much longer than her hand, and yet it seemed to slip into mamma with ease and pleasure, 'while yours, dear Harry, which is not thicker than my two forefingers, and hardly much longer, has given me such pain.' I assured her it was only for the first night, and that if she would bathe it with warm water two or three times during the day, and put up a little glycerine as far as where it hurt, which her finger could easily reach, she would find that to-morrow night there would no longer be any pain felt, and she would enjoy it as much as she had seen mamma do. With this advice I left her to her repose, and gained my own room unobserved." + +After this we concerted together as to what we should say to the doctor, who was sure to question us. Mrs. Dale's cottage was not in our parish, but she had driven over to our church, partly to throw off all suspicion from the doctor's mind, and also to thank him for allowing us to stay with her. + +We, therefore, knew that we should have to go to the rectory and stay for luncheon. We agreed that we should not on this occasion take the doctor into our confidence, but that we should tell him we had purposely been very quiet and discreet, so as to throw Harry's mother off her guard. That Ellen slept with her, so that it became doubly necessary to gain her confidence. This being arranged before we reached church, we entered. After service we all adjourned to the rectory. The doctor escorted Mrs. Dale, Harry, Ellen, and I my aunt. Aunt, pressing my arm, asked me if I had had Mrs. D., as she seemed a fine woman worth having. + +"Oh, dear no. I have had no opportunity, even if she would have consented. I have been playing the ingenuous youth to help Harry with his cousin. I thought we had somewhat thrown her off her guard, but she was still jealous and watched him closely. Ellen slept with her, which rendered things more difficult for Harry. She has closely examined me as to the sort of intimacy existing between us. I threw such an air of candour and innocence over my replies that she was quite delighted Harry had met with such a companion. I fully expect she will break out in praises of my modest and discreet conduct." + +Indeed, so it turned out, and Mrs. Dale did it with such an air of candour that aunt was quite convinced nothing as yet had occurred between us. While the ladies discussed the dresses and bonnets of all who had appeared in church, uncle took Harry and me for a walk in the garden until luncheon was ready. Here he began, as aunt had done, to question us as to our proceedings, and the reason for Mrs. D. asking permission for us to stay. The same replies that had satisfied aunt satisfied him that nothing as yet had taken place beyond my gaining the confidence of Mrs. D. + +"My dear Charlie," said uncle, "you have only now to manage somehow or other to let her see your great big cock without apparently your being aware of it, and I will warrant, from my knowledge of woman's nature, that she will find a way to have you, only mind you play the innocent, and be very awkward, and let her appear to teach you, which will give double pleasure and prevent any questioning as to how you have gained your instruction, if she thought you instructed." + +I smiled inwardly at these sage directions, and thought how completely all persons knowing in the ways of the world gave the same advice. But little did uncle then think that I had acted up to the very letter what he was advising for my future conduct. We re-entered the house on luncheon bell ringing. Mrs. Dale complimented the doctor on the advance her son had made both in manners and instruction, and quite naturally congratulated herself on his finding so very modest and gentlemanly a companion in the doctor's nephew—myself to wit. + +Returning home, Ellen begged she might be allowed to walk, doubtless calculating on having Harry for a companion. But mamma, while agreeing to her request, was still sufficiently on her guard to take Harry in the phaeton, and leave me to escort Ellen. Here was a chance! Ellen blushed, but took my arm as we left the rectory. Uncle gave me a knowing look, and a glance at Ellen, as we parted, as much as to say, I guess what will happen. We walked away steadily enough until the first hedge hid us. I stopped, and embraced Ellen tenderly, saying how glad I was to be able to congratulate her on the happy chance her aunt had given her, by coming to me for the night. She was a good deal confused at thinking that I should know how she passed the night. I rallied her upon this, told her that no secret existed between Harry and me, and that, in fact, if I had not lent myself to the game, she would not have had the opportunity for the great pleasure she must have had in Harry's arms. I knew she had not had much, but I wished to draw her on, and to make her open out as to her feelings, being determined to make the most of any confidence on her part. She replied that, indeed, she had done nothing but suffer, and would not have allowed Harry to do what he did if she had known the pain it would give her, she had been deceived by seeing how much aunt had seemed to enjoy what was so greatly superior in size to what Harry had. I smiled at her allusion to the size of my pego, and knowing that her curiosity must be creating in her a desire to see it, I told her it was well for her, in the first instance, to have had the smaller weapon to penetrate her, and that now she would never again suffer, even by the introduction of so large a one as mine. + +"Oh, but when I think of the immense size of yours, I could never dare to allow you to try, although aunt did seem to enjoy it, when you pushed it in with such force." + +"My dear Ellen, it was the size alone that tempted mamma, and if I had not been larger than Harry, I doubt if ever she would have come to me at night." + +"But how could she dare to do so?" + +"Curiosity to enjoy an unusually large cock, my dear." + +"Did you know she was coming?" + +"Yes, and no. I saw that her passions were excited, when I had once accidentally allowed her to see my large proportions." + +"Yes, Harry told me what you were about, but I hardly expected aunt would have dared to come to you—how did it happen?" + +"Well, if you will promise never to let your aunt know that I have told, I shall tell you. She came and found me apparently asleep, first felt me, and seeing I did not awake, carefully uncovered me, looked at, handled and kissed it, upon which, as my cock was nearly bursting, and I could stand it no longer, I awoke, and innocently complained of the stiffness I suffered from in that part, and begged her to tell me if there was any means of relieving it. She told me there was, but it was a great secret she hardly dared trust me with—and even if she could do so, she was afraid of a great long thing like that, three of her hands long below the head! but that if I promised secrecy, she would try. Then she lay down and taught me how to put it in, and I know you afterwards enjoyed the sight of our being in full action, quite naked—did you not enjoy it, dear Ellen?" + +"Well, dear Charlie, it was very exciting, and made me feel queer all over; but is it really three hands and a head long?" + +I was delighted at the question, as it showed me she was ready for what I intended should be done. Curiosity once excited was sure to go to the utmost length, if it had the opportunity. I had purposely been hurrying on to gain a dense copse through which our path lay, and I knew there was a snug glade, where we would be in perfect security. It was the dinner hour of the peasantry, and no one else was likely to come that way. Just as we entered the copse, she had put her last question. I told her I would show her, if she would step a few yards beyond the foot path. She objected, for form's sake saying— + +"What would Harry say?" + +"There is no occasion for him to know anything about it, but even if he did, has he not himself shown you mamma and me in full enjoyment of her sweet charms; but, unless you tell him you may be sure I never shall, it will not take a minute, and as we have already walked very fast, we have plenty of time, and our absence will not be observed." + +With professed reluctance she allowed me to lead her where I wished. Having arrived at the favourable spot, I sat down on a gentle slope, and begged her to sit down beside me. As you may well suppose, my prick was rampant, and almost bursting open my trousers, so that as soon as I unbuttoned, out it flew in all its splendour. She gave a half scream of surprise as she gazed upon its large proportions, and declared it looked larger than when she had seen it with aunt. Her face flushed, and her eyes sparkled as she gazed, but she seemed half frightened to touch it. I took her hand and placed it on it. She immediately grasped it convulsively, but sighed deeply. I had lain back on the grass that it might stand out boldly before her and I told her to try if it was not three hands and a head long. She immediately passed one hand over the other from the root, and said it was really monstrous, and she wondered how aunt could have got it into her. + +"Oh, my darling, I hope some day you will find that you can take it all in with the utmost delight, but I should not think of trying until you have had some more practice with Harry." + +Meanwhile she was handling it with great excitement, and while saying she was sure I could never succeed with her, she was evidently longing to be able to take it in. I saw I must work her up more—so I said— + +"Dear Ellen, you know what pleasure it gave you and Harry to play with each other with your mouths, it is now your turn to let me see your dear little thing—and then you must lie over me reversed, so that we may enjoy ourselves with tongues and mouths." + +She let me at once pull up her petticoats, but said she feared that even for that she was still too sore from Harry's work last night. I asked if she had bathed it in warm water and put glycerine up. "Oh, yes." + +At first it smarted, but before going to church, she had done it three times, and no longer felt any pain, but still was afraid of my finger going up. I was introducing it at the moment. It passed in its full length without hurting her. + +"Now, pull up your petticoats well, and lie down on me, while I do the same with this charming little cunt; my tongue can only give it the utmost pleasure." + +She herself was now so much excited that she was ready enough to comply with my desires. She got upon me, her petticoats well canted over her back. She glued her lips to my prick, and sucked and frigged it with an energy that proved how highly her passions were fired. Her cunt was already in a foam of spendings, which I first licked up. Then sucking her tiny clitoris, stiffly projecting slightly out, I thrust my middle finger up her cunt, and by the wriggling of her backside, saw how much she enjoyed it. Introducing a second finger to moisten it, I withdrew both, and, turning my hand sideways, made each finger enter a separate aperture. She was already nearly in the grand crisis; it came upon her before I was ready. She poured a greater discharge into my mouth than I thought the young thing could have spent. It took her breath away, and she released her suction of my prick for a minute. But on my begging her to continue sucking, she did so with increased energy, and I poured out a torrent of sperm that shot down her throat and nearly choked her, but the dear girl never let go for all that, and sucked away until not only was there not a drop left, but by her delicious titillations she had brought my prick up to its utmost vigour again. I, too, had reawakened her passions. She wanted to renew the sport in this way again, but I begged her to allow me to rub the head of my prick up and down between the well-moistened lips of her cunt, and then to spend with the point, or at most the head, within it. She asked if she could trust me to stop if it hurt her. + +"Of course, my darling," I said, "nothing shall be done, or rather everything shall cease the moment you tell me to stop." + +Half afraid, yet wishing to try, she changed her position to a kneeling one. I canted her petticoats well over her back, and first kissing and handling her hard and plump buttocks, which promised a future perfection, I stooped and again licked her charming pouting cunt with all its budding fair young curls. Then applying my surcharged mouthful of saliva to my already well-moistened prick, I lubricated it completely from point to root, and then applied it to the half-opened lips. Rubbing it up and down here, and over the clitoris, I excited her to the greatest pitch. + +"Oh! Charlie dear," she cried, "try if its head will go in now, and I will try to bear it." + +I was only too glad of the permission, and very rapidly got it in over the nut, but it was very tight. I drew it half out again, and then, on repeating this five or six times, found I was imperceptibly gaining ground. + +"Oh! dear Charles, it is delicious! Try on, gently." + +I did so, and had got rather more than half way in when she went off in an agony of delight, deliciously pouring her warm liquid over my enchanted prick, giving, at the same time, such a push backwards, which, meeting a firm, though gentle forward movement on my part, joined with the natural relaxation following her discharge, drove me up to the hilt in the very tightest little cunt it has ever been my good fortune to sheath myself in. I seemed to fill every cranny, and to have stretched every part to its utmost distention. My aunt with her great cunt had a power of pressure that seemed almost to nip off your prick, Miss Frankland, too, was great in that way. But this was more like a very well made first-rate kid glove, two sizes too small for your fingers, yet giving way without bursting, and fitting every irregularity of the nail or finger; just so her little cunt fitted my prick exactly like a glove, and it was truly most ecstatic. A gentle withdrawing, and then as gentle resheathing, so excited me that I shot a torrent of sperm up into her very womb. She gave quite a cry of ecstasy, and I could feel the tight sheath exercising a running movement along the whole length of my prick, and still more tightly closing all round it—if that were possible. It was so exquisitely delicious that both of us were almost instantly in readiness for another course. + +She asked if I was all in. + +"Oh, yes, my dear, do you think you could have taken any more?" + +"Oh, no, it appears to fill me to bursting, and to be up to my very heart. I could not have supported more, but could hardly believe I had it all, as I did not think it possible, and was afraid there was more to come." + +"Did it give you any pleasure?" + +"Oh, yes; and does so still—push on, dear Charlie, and don't spare me, it is heavenly." + +She wriggled and heaved her backside. I seized her by each hip and favoured her side movements by, as it were, drawing her off and on; faster and faster we moved, until at last the crisis seized us both together. Her head sank with a deep sigh, or rather cry of ecstasy. She would have fallen forward on her belly, but that my grip of her hips held her bottom close up to my belly, with my prick thrust into the innermost end of her cunt, until I felt the three points of the opening of her womb, like the nailless ends of three fingers grasping, as it were, the very point of my prick, and opening themselves to receive the whole discharge of my sperm within its innermost recesses. Nothing could be more delicious, and as I held her fast, I was myself in a state of perfect ecstasy. At last addressing some endearing expressions, and getting no reply, I found that the dear girl had quite fainted away, and was insensible in every respect except in the continued convulsive throbs of her delicious tight cunt. However, finding that she did not recover her senses, I gently withdrew my still stiff prick. Very little sperm followed the withdrawal. I wiped her cunt dry with my handkerchief, and was glad to see there was no blood stains. I laid her gently down on her back, ran to a little stream, and taking two handfuls of water, came back, threw some on the still throbbing cunt, and sprinkled her face with the drops that still adhered to my palms. This had the desired effect; she opened her eyes, raised herself on her bottom, and threw her arms round my neck as I knelt by her side. Telling me I had made her taste of the joys of heaven, she kissed me, and then burst into a hysterical flood of tears. I comforted her as best I could and asked why she wept. + +"I don't know, dear Charles, but the last time made me feel both sick and faint just after you had given me such ecstasy as I never dreamt was possible. I believe I then fainted, and even now, I don't know why but I feel quite hysterical." + +I kissed her tenderly, begged her to rise and come to the spring, where she could drink and said if she sat down on her feet I would bathe and cool her dear little cunt, which would probably put all to rights. She did so, and was quickly quite restored to herself again. She said she supposed it was my enormous size. + +"But it did not hurt me, dear Charles, it only gave me too much pleasure; but you will do it to me another time whenever we have any opportunity, will you not, dear Charlie?" + +I assured her I should always be too glad to do so, but that we must neither let her aunt nor Harry know of our proceedings. This being arranged, and she having quite recovered from the pallor her fainting fit had caused, we resumed our course homeward, and so hurried on that Harry, who had come to meet us found us getting over the stile of the last field, and was even disappointed that we had got so far, for we were now in sight of the cottage. He had hoped to find us much further back, and that I might have favoured his having a go at his cousin before reaching home. Ellen squeezed my arm. I said it was just as well as it was, for any imprudence might have awakened his mother's suspicions, and prevented a night of pleasure, which would be far better than any uncomfortable field affair. + +When we arrived at home, mamma thought that Ellen looked fatigued, and advised her to go and lie down on her bed, and take an hour's siesta. She told us boys we had better do the same, as she had some private matters to attend to. Harry and I saw immediately what was meant, and we betook ourselves to our respective rooms, I to expect mamma, who did not fail to come, and Harry to watch her, and then made the most of the opportunity with his cousin. I quickly undressed, and when mamma came I found she had divested herself of stays and undergarments; so when she undid her gown, and let fall her shift, she stood in all the naked glory of her beautiful form. I flew to embrace her most lovingly. Both our hands wandered and being both in full heat, we were at it in a moment fast and furious. I drove on, admirably seconded by dear mamma, and we quickly both gave down at the same instant a most delicious libation on the altar of Venus, and then died away in all the after-enjoyment. We lay for nearly a quarter of an hour soaking in the delicious bliss of satisfied desire. Mamma, on coming to her senses, kissed me most tenderly, and declared she had never believed it possible that she could have had such exquisite delight. + +"But then, my dear Charles, I never dreamt that any man, let alone a boy like you, could be so magnificently hung. Oh, it is also such joy to me to think I have first taught you the real joys of coition, and tasted the first sweets of that most glorious weapon. My dear Charlie, I must contemplate its beauties in this full light; withdraw the dear fellow and turn on your back." + +I did so. She rose, and turning in the reverse position, brought her lovely foaming cunt right down on my mouth. I sucked up all the delicious foam oozing from the aperture. Then drawing into my mouth her half-stiffened clitoris, which was then pendant like a little boy's cock, I soon sucked it into its utmost rigidity, frigging her rich pouting cunt with two fingers, the while. She, on her part, was not idle, first playing with my prick, covering and uncovering its head, which soon made it stand up in all of its glory. She was profuse and loud in its praises. Then getting too excited for mere admiration, she took it in her mouth and sucked it, and manipulated it with one hand, fingering my codpiece with the other. I then found her fingers were feeling and tickling my bottom-hole. She took her mouth from off my prick, and paused a moment; then again applied her finger to my fundament, and made it gently penetrate as far as it would go. The previous pause had evidently been for the purpose of moistening her finger with her saliva that it might slip in easily. I was delighted to find that she had come to this, but pretending ignorance, I stopped my proceedings to ask her what she was doing to my bottom, which could give me such exquisite delight. + +"It is my finger, my dear Charles, my late husband was always delighted with my doing this, and used also to add greatly to my pleasure by doing the same to me." + +"Shall I do so to you, dear mamma?" + +"Oh, yes, my darling boy; moisten your finger first and then do it in my bottom-hole, as you have been doing it in my cunt." + +"But I think I can do both at the same time, they are so close together." + +"You are a delightful darling; do so, and it will be double pleasure to me." + +So I immediately commenced to postillion her to her and my extreme gratification. We soon spent with the utmost delight, and both swallowed all we could get, continuing our suctions until the passions of both were again excited. I now declared I must fuck her again in the kneeling position, in which she had before given me such exquisite pleasure. As she drew a little higher up, I flung my arms round her fine backside, and glued my lips to her bottom-hole, and thrust my tongue in and out. + +"Oh, Charles, dear, what are you doing? Oh! how delightful." + +And she wriggled her backside over my mouth in a most voluptuous and lascivious way. + +"Oh, rise my darling, and fuck me; you have made me so very lewd." + +I drew myself up on my knees behind her, and was into her with wild ferocity that made her cry out with joy as she felt the mighty instrument rush within her. I stooped and frigged her clitoris at her desire, but wishing to contemplate the glorious movement of her backside I begged her to frig herself that I might be able to do so. Seizing hold of her lips, I drew her splendid bottom off and on my stiff and glowing prick with such immense delight to her that she went off and spent profusely, the hot stream bathing my delighted prick. But having already fucked Ellen so shortly before, and having spent twice at the present time, I remained for a while quiet, with mamma's exquisite cunt deliriously throbbing round it to the infinite enjoyment of my cock. I stooped and nibbled with my fingers at one of her nipples. I played with and frigged her very fine clitoris, which was soon in stiff-standing excitement again. Being cool myself, I soon worked her up into the wildest state of excitement by my frigging and the throbbings of my prick, aided with occasional long slowly drawn-out movements, and then as slowly regaining ground until within the last three inches, when it was thrust vigourously forward, and kept there for her convulsive pressures on it. I kept this up until she was almost wild with lust, and cried out for more vigorous movements. I did not immediately comply, but continued my exciting proceedings until she bit the pillow in the madness of her lust. Then I drove on fast and furious, amid cries of delight and ecstasy on her part, until the grand crisis overtook us both at the same instant in a perfect fury and agony of delight. I had previously left the frigging to herself, and had seized her lips and enjoyed the glorious sight of the furious contortions of her bottom under the excessive lubricity of her wildly excited lasciviousness. She died away in such excess of ecstasy that she would have fallen on her belly but for the grip I had upon her hips, and the pressure with which I drew back her glorious bottom against my belly. I threw back my head in the agony of delight, and brayed like a donkey as I had done once before when fucking the luscious Frankland, and felt the three pointed entrance to her womb close upon and nibble at the point of my prick so delightfully, just as dear Ellen's had done in the wood. As I came to my senses I spoke to dear mamma, and found that she too had fainted away, and was quite insensible to everything but the convulsive inner movements of her delicious cunt. I withdrew and laid her gently down on her side, bringing a tumbler of water, a sponge, and towel, I opened her splendid thighs, sponged and bathed her cunt, which showed but little of the torrent of sperm I had just poured into it. I then sprinkled her face, and she came to with a deep sigh. Her first utterance was to bless me for the joy I had given her, which was in fact too much, and then she burst into tears and became quite hysterical. I thought it odd that I should have produced the same effect upon her more accustomed and more developed organs as I had done on dear Ellen. I comforted her in my boyish way, and asked how it was that the effect should have been different from anything she had previously experienced with me. + +"Ah! my dear boy," she said, with a deep sigh, "you have caused me such extreme sensations that I fear you must have got me with child, you seemed to penetrate my very womb, and to excite me far beyond anything I ever previously remember." + +"My loved mamma, can I possibly get a child?" + +"Get a child, indeed!" she replied. "Yes, a dozen, with such a great monster of a cock, that so excites us poor women." + +I embraced her most tenderly, and said I was so happy to think I should be the father of a child of hers. + +"Alas! my dear boy, it may be joy to you, but what a sorrow it will be to me if such should be the case; think how I should lose position in the world if it should be known, and even if by going abroad I could hide my shame from the public, still what shifts and contrivances I should be put to to ensure secrecy; but never mind, my darling, I would run twice such risk to enjoy your person, and secure your affection; you must ever cherish and love me, my Charlie, for I risk good name and fame for you; but now I must be gone, or we shall be sought for; try and sleep a little, my dear boy, for I am sure you need it after your exertions, and remember you must gain strength to renew them this night." + +She kissed me lovingly, rose, put on her things and left me to repose. But I could not help thinking of what she had said about fearing that that peculiar fuck in which she had fainted portended fructification. If so, I thought dear Ellen will probably be in the same predicament, for the result was precisely the same with her. I may here observe that mamma's fears became certainties, both in her case and Ellen's. + +Eventually they both left the country together, when staying would have brought on discovery. And, curiously enough, they were both delivered of daughters on the same day. Of both I was the happy father, although Harry had the credit of Ellen's child, but she herself always asserted to me that it was the delicious fuck in the wood that did the mischief. And from the peculiar effect produced on both mothers on that day, I never had any doubt of the real paternity, besides, the child grew up my very image. Mamma's daughter was superbly developed when she became a young woman. She had even a larger clitoris than Miss Frankland, with which she absolutely deflowered her sister's cousin at the age of fourteen. I may also incidentally observe that at the age of fifteen I had both their maidenheads, as far as the male sex was concerned. And Harry and I often fucked them together in every way; and my darling daughter with her long and large clitoris has often fucked my bottom, while I was doing the same to her sister, with Harry below fucking her whom he believed to be his daughter. But this belongs to my latter experiences, and has nothing to do with the present period of my life, though, perhaps, I may be tempted hereafter to enter into all the details of my middle age and later experiences. + +Dear reader, pardon me this digression. To resume, I slept soundly for an hour, then rose, and strolled in the garden with Harry, who related to me how he had taken advantage of mamma's occupation to steal into Ellen's room. She had been much afraid, the sly pussey, to allow him to enter again, but when once he got within, and she found it did not hurt her, but the contrary, she got extremely lewd, and they had two splendid fucks. Then stealing along to my door to peep as to how we were getting on, we so excited them again that he had another from behind, while she stooped and peeped all the time, for it was when I was fucking mamma from behind, on my knees, and they concluded it would be our last for the present. When they had brought matters to a finish they separated, and mamma had found Ellen fast asleep. + +"But, by Jove, Charlie," said Harry, "how splendid mother fucks, I quite envied you, and I shall never rest until I get into her myself; how gloriously she wriggles her backside, and how lusciously she enjoys fucking; to be sure such a mighty prick as yours is enough to stir up every passion; it astonished, and I think made Ellen more lewd, although she is sure she could never take in such a monster." + +I smiled at thinking how easily the very youngest of the fair sex deceives us, but I took care not to let Harry know my opinion. + +We re-entered for dinner, and spent a pleasant evening, which was the forerunner to the delights of the night. Mamma came as soon as she thought Ellen fast asleep, which Ellen took very good care should soon be the case. In a moment, she was quite naked, and clasped to my equally naked body. I had been expecting her, and thinking over the delights of our last fuck, so that I was rampant before her arrival. She was equally eager for the fray, and at it we went hammer and tongs, and soon brought the first bout to a close, in mutual "ah's!" and "oh's!" of delight. We soaked for some time in the delicious enjoyment. Then mamma scolded both herself and me for our precipitation, saying that we threw away all the luxury and abandon of fucking when we went at it in such haste; it was in that way mere animal instinct, and wanted all the lascivious delight of lubricity and skill in fucking. She said, now that the edge was taken off our appetites, we must begin again with a mutual gamahuche. She rose first to piddle, and allowed me to see the rush of water from her delicious cunt. Then lighting two more candles, she placed two at the foot of the bed, and two at the head, by which we should both have the advantage of seeing all we were caressing. Then I lay down on my back, and she mounted on me, in reverse, thus bringing her bottom down over my face. I thrust my tongue up her cunt, and licked up the delicious spunk oozing down from the inside. Her piddle had washed all away from the pouting lips. Then taking her charming clitoris in my mouth, I sucked it up to its greatest stiffness. I had thrust three fingers into her cunt, and when I found she had thrust hers into my bottom, I transferred them all into her beautiful pink bum-hole. They were very greasy from my sperm coming down upon them when in her cunt, and as she favoured their entrance by pushing out her bottom, all three slipped in, without, apparently, her thinking it was more than one. I was delighted to see how easily it stretched out, for this gave me great ground to hope that I should be able to manage to get my large pego within, which I was fully resolved upon doing, but it required a little artfulness to do so without raising her suspicions that it was no new road to me. She brought matters to a conclusion much as before, and when re-excited, mamma proposed to teach me a new way, which was by her mounting on me, and staking herself on my standing pego. Like others before her, she did not stoop down upon me until she had made herself spend where she was, while I saved myself for further fucking. + +When she died off, she sank on my bosom. I clasped her waist with one arm, sucked the bubby nearest my mouth, and reaching round my other arm, I brought my hand over her bottom to the delightful orifice, first moistening my finger with her spending which was oozing out between the lips of her cunt and my standing prick. I thrust my finger into her bottom-hole, and worked it in and out, to her infinite satisfaction. She cried out in the excess of her lewdness— + +"Oh! my dear boy, that is just as my dear husband used to do, and it gave me great pleasure, but not near so much as you do, for your dear prick is twice as large as his was, and fills me with an excess of pleasure which was never approached with him." + +All this led up to a superb and lascivious fuck, in which we both died away in mutual ecstasy, with cries of voluptuousness, and then lay soaking in delight until her weight forced me to beg her to turn on her side. We then had a long sweet chat of love. Turning the talk on her suspicions of having got with child at the morning prayers, I remarked that she had had only one child by her husband, and as he had lived many years after Harry's birth, and from what she said, she had continued to be enjoyed by him, it was, therefore, not probable she would now be got in the family-way. + +"That appears probable, my dear boy, but then he took precaution not to get any more children." + +"But what precautions could he take, and how did he do so?" + +"You are a curious boy, but I shall tell you. He used to continue long at it, making me spend two or three times before he did, and then when he felt it coming he used to withdraw, and his prick being all moist, he would slip it into my bottom, and spend there as soon as ever he got the head of it inside." + +"And did that give you any pleasure, mamma?" + +"He had excited me, and made me spend several times before he did so; and beyond slight irritation I did not feel much pleasure, as he was generally so near the crisis that he could scarce do more than get its head in when off he went. + +"Did he ever get it in altogether—and then did it give you pleasure?" + +"Sometimes he did when he had drawn it out of my cunt too soon; in such cases he used to pause until by rubbing my clitoris he got me into a renewed state of lewdness, and then the pleasure was peculiar and great." + +"Oh, my dear, mamma, you must let me too fuck you in that way, and then you know we shall get no children." + +"My darling Charlie, it is impossible that this great big thing could ever get into that orifice, my late husband's was not half your size, and he had great difficulty unless I had already spent three or four times and relaxed all those parts. I should not dare to let you attempt it." + +"Oh, yes my darling mamma, you will let me just get its point in and spend there. I should so like to try. We will fuck two or three times first, and then after the third time I shall frig you till you spend first, and so I shall be ready just to put in the point for you to try how it feels." + +"But, my dear boy, the least throb on my part will push it out, unless it is in over the nut, and only look what a size it is. I can hardly grasp it, and although it is so velvety it is quite hard. Oh, the dear fellow, let me kiss it, and then do you fuck me again, my darling." + +She bent her body, gave me a delicious suck, then throwing herself on her back, and opening her beautiful thighs, invited me to mount her. Before doing so I also bent and sucked her charming and well-developed clitoris, until she squealed again with pleasure, and begged me to put it to her. I threw myself on her belly, and with one vigorous shove drove my rampant prick up to the hilt, making her all shake again. She was so hotly wound up that she spent with the single shove, and poured a flood of hot liquid over my delighted prick. I, too, would have gone off in two more thrusts had she not thrown her arms and legs around me, and slipping her hands over my buttocks, held me tight pressed against the pouting and greedy lips of her salacious cunt as if she would shove in ballocks, buttocks and all, if it were possible. So keeping it tightly thrust in up to the lowest hair, which lay all crushed between us, I let her indulge in all the delight of perfect conjunction, responding to her delicious throbbing cunt with powerful throbs of my own highly excited prick. For more than a quarter of an hour did she lie panting and convulsively sobbing in the perfect ecstasy of enjoyment. At last she drew my mouth down to hers, and thrust her sweet tongue into my mouth; I sucked it, and her hands relaxing the pressure of my buttocks, against her cunt, I began a slow in and out movement that soon renewed her utmost lubricity. Most actively and divinely did she second me with an art quite her own. Fast and furious grew our movements, until, like all things human, they came to an end in a death-like agony of delight, in which my very soul seemed to take flight, and we lay all unconscious, for I don't know how long, enjoying all those exquisite after-delights which a prick soaking in the cunt of a beautiful and lewd woman so enchantingly confers. When we recovered, we rolled over sideways, and still intertwined and conjoined in the sweet priapic bonds, we lay billing and cooing with all those soft loving murmurings and bitings so befitting such moments. At last both were again ready, and longing for the fight. I proposed the delicious kneeling position. She saw at once my object, and said I was a little traitor, who wanted to surprise her bottom-hole. + +"But, my darling boy, it is really impossible." + +I embraced, flattered, cajoled, and implored her until at last she promised that if I would engage on honour not to go further, she would try and support the entrance of my prick as far as over the nut, but that I must really withdraw it if it was too painful for her. So these preliminaries being arranged, she got into position. First stooping to lick out her delicious cunt, and give a suck or two at her charming clitoris, I brought my eager prick to the pouting and longing lips of her delicious cunt, and after two or three rubs, thrust it in with a rush that made my belly smack against her glorious backside. We then lay quiet, throbbing mutually in the luxury of voluptuousness. I passed a hand under her belly, and frigging her clitoris quickly, made her come in an ecstasy of delight. I only gave her time for one or two throbs of my prick, and knowing that nothing so much delights a lecherous woman as quick movements almost immediately after spending, I commenced rapid series of thrusts, shoving my prick well up to the hilt every time, and talking grossly all the while, such as— + +"Does not that shove make you quiver? There you have it to the ballocks in your lascivious and delicious cunt," &c. + +She grew madly lewd, called me her own dear delightful fucker. + +"Yes, yes; I feel it is up to the root. I have it well in, my dear boy. Your dear, great big prick, it kills me—kills—kills me—with—joy. Oh! oh! oh!" + +She squealed again with all the lewdness of the most delicious spend. She had hardly gone off, and was yet in all the throes of delight when I, too, feeling I could hold out no longer, suddenly withdrew the reeking shaft, and bringing it to bear against the corrugated and beautiful orifice of her bottom, attempted to introduce it. + +Notwithstanding the fury of my excitement, I was sufficiently gentle to push in without force, and sheathed it over the nut without difficulty or drawing a murmur from dear mamma, who fulfilled her promise, and did her utmost to help me by pushing out her big bum, and offering no resistance with her sphincter muscles. I was so highly wound up that even if I had promised to be content with the insertion of the head, I could not have gone on further, as the access seized me with such killing sweetness that I melted away, shooting a torrent of sperm far up into her entrails, and then losing all power of even the slightest further thrusts. I suppose it was the long holding back to let mamma spend two or three times that had wrought me up to such a high pitch of nervous excitement that when I spent I seemed to lose all power of further advance. This was the first time I ever felt this momentary impuissance, but it was by no means the last; it generally follows the holding back your spending powers in the fuck that leads to it. The delicious throbbings of dear mamma's luscious cunt, which were repeated in her arms, soon reawakened my momentarily dormant powers. My prick had gone down more than usual, so that it was only a soft half stiffness that ensued, but enough to enable me to give it a forward movement, and it slipped almost imperceptibly in quite as far as he could go before dear mamma had recovered from the ecstasy of her last discharge. As she came to, I continued convulsively catching my breath, as if I were still in that exquisite sensation of half consciousness. I felt her pass her hand between her thighs, and heard her murmur— + +"Why, I declare he is up to the hilt!" + +Her gentle touch on my cods, which she took in her hand and fondly caressed, made my prick stiffen sensibly. She felt this, and caressed them more until she made it stand as stiff as ever, still imbedded to the utmost in that delicious bottom, which by its increased throbbings, seemed rather to welcome the stranger than repulse him. I pretended now to recover my full consciousness, and cried out— + +"Oh, where am I? I have never known such heavenly joy." + +She raised her face up from the pillow— + +"Why, you naughty boy, you have actually gone in up to the hilt; ah, you have broken your promise; but I forgive you, only don't move yet." + +I assured her I did not know how it got there, as I had spent and lost consciousness as soon as ever his head was within. + +Here I throbbed, and was met by as delicious a pressure. I passed my hand round her belly, and found her clitoris stiff and excited. I rubbed with the fingers of the other hand at one of her hard projecting nipples. She soon grew madly lewd, and began a side wriggle on my rampant prick. I lay still, determined to let her passions demand movement of my part. I had not to wait long. She begged me to try a gentle movement, I obeyed, and slowly withdrew but a short way, and as slowly returned. Soon her lubricity got beyond all bounds. She begged me to draw out further and somewhat quicker—then quicker and quicker, until we both were in an excess of furious lust, which knew no bounds. We rushed on to the final crisis with mutual cries of agonised delight; indeed, mamma squealed so loud that I afterwards thought she must have been heard. Her pleasure was of the wildest, and when I poured a flood of sperm up her entrails at the very moment she herself was spending, we both fell forward and fainted away. I was too much lost in ecstatic joy myself to observe this, but lay long a tightly held prisoner engulphed in that most exquisite joygiving aperture. At last I became aware that mamma had really fainted. So drawing my prick out with somewhat of a good pull, for he was most tightly held, and came out with a flop, I rose and brought some water to mamma. I sprinkled her face, and she opened her eyes, which beamed the intensest love upon me. Her lips murmured something, I put the tumbler to her mouth, she drank with avidity. Then looking at me again with the most loving expression, she said— + +"My darling boy, you will kill me with delight. Never—oh, never—have I known such joy. It was too much for me, and I fear I am also injuring you. We must be more moderate in future. Help me up, for I must rise. Your last coup requires me to absent myself for a few minutes." + +She rose, threw her robe over her shoulders, and left the room to go to the water closet. I hoped that she would not go into her own room and discover how matters were going on there. Fortunately she was afraid of awakening Ellen, and so prevent our continuing bedfellows for the rest of the night. She returned. I had purified myself in the meantime, and now acted as her femme de chambre, and laved all the parts. + +"My dear boy, we must not do this again for some time, do you know I have passed blood, and was very sore when relieving myself." + +We got again into bed. She would not allow of any further fuckings, but tenderly embracing me, and putting my head on her bosom, we soon fell asleep. She awoke me at dawn with kissing me and feeling my stiff-standing pego. She laid herself on her back, and we had two most delicious fucks without withdrawing. I knew that if I did withdraw she would take herself off. Nevertheless, she took most kindly to the second, as it would be our last until we had another opportunity of meeting. She exerted all her wonderful skill and her movements were of astounding agility. She twined herself round me almost serpent-like. Our mouths and tongues were equally engaged, and the final crisis was beyond description exquisite. I tried hard for a third course, but we had already prolonged our sports to so dangerous an hour, for we could hear them opening the lower window shutters, that she gave me a sweet kiss of thanks and tore herself away. I lay thinking over the joys of that ecstatic night, and then rose and dressed quickly, as we were to breakfast and then walk home, where we were expected at nine o'clock. However, after breakfast, mamma drew me into her sanctum, a house store-room, to give me some directions. Of course, no sooner was she there, than pushing her towards the table, I canted up her petticoats over back, and gave her a good fuck, getting in from behind. She yielded with a good grace, notwithstanding her protestations that it was not for that she had come, as if it had been for anything else! Oh! woman, woman! how thou seekest to deceive, even when gaining the very object thou hast in view. + +Harry told me they had peeped in and seen what we were at but he was not so ready as me, and had not been able to go and do likewise. + +We loitered all too long, and did not get back to school until after ten o'clock. The doctor sternly ordered us to attend him in his sanctum at twelve o'clock. We knew what that meant—a good flogging, and then the doctor enjoying the account of our successes. At twelve o'clock we entered the doctor's room, who followed us immediately after. He scolded us sternly for being late, and said he meant to flog us both well for our idleness and, he had no doubt, debauchery. We knew immediately that he meant to lay on. From time to time he was fond of really seriously flogging some one and we now saw that such was his present intention, although we also knew it would end in an orgie, after we had excited him sufficiently by recounting the details of the fucking which he no doubt felt certain had taken place. He made us all strip, and choosing to take Harry first he made me the horse to flog him on. When all was ready, he began by some real sharp cuts on Harry's backside, and then commenced his remarks. + +"So, young gentleman, you have been seducing your cousin, have you?"—whack—whack—whack—"and then making that the excuse for neglecting your school." Whack, whack, whack. "I thought I had formerly whipped out all idea about fucking your cousin." Whack, whack, whack. + +Poor Harry writhed in real pain. + +"Oh, sir, I'll never do it again without your leave." + +"My leave indeed!" Whack, whack, whack. + +The doctor now laid on for some time most unmercifully until the revolution of pain turned to lubricity, and Harry's cock began to stand, rapping fiercely at my bottom as he writhed under the sharp infliction of the rod. Upon seeing the expected effect, the doctor relaxed his severity, and changing the rod to his other hand, afterwards only tickled the bottom to keep up the excitement. Taking hold of the standing prick, he said— + +"So this is the article that has been doing all the mischief." + +He frigged it a little, stooped and gave it a suck. + +"Ah, yes, I find it still tastes of cunt, and smells the true odour of it; so you have been at it this morning again. Let me hear how it happened." + +Here Harry was let go. The doctor seated himself, Harry stood before him, while the doctor in delight, handled his stiff-standing pego. + +"Now, let me hear." + +"Well, sir, when Charlie occupied mamma—" + +"Oh, that is it, is it?" cried the doctor, "we shall have all that out of him, by and by, go on." + +"I slipped into Ellen. She made some difficulty for fear mamma should catch us; but I took her and showed her through the key hole, how she was having Charlie into her. Ellen was astonished at Charlie's immense size, and seeing how easily and delightedly mamma accommodated him, she thought that my smaller size could not hurt her, and she let me do it. But I made her scream and bleed when I got in far enough to reach her maidenhead. She tried to shake me off, but I was too firmly seated for that, and I fucked her then, and again before I withdrew. I laved her cunt and applied some glycerine, and this morning did it again without hurting her any more. And she liked it so much that afterwards she would kiss and suck it, and made me spend in her mouth, and then got me up again for a final go." + +"Upon my honour, a very pretty affair," cried the doctor. "Now suck my prick, as she sucked yours." + +This Harry did, till the doctor was rampant. He then made him cease, but ordered me to mount on Harry's back. I knew I should catch it sharp, as the doctor was just excited enough to wish to be more so. And preciously he gave it me—interpolating questions as to how I had accomplished my wicked ends. I told him it was his own advice to me to let her see my prick, which I did, and the bait took. + +Whack—whack—whack. + +"And did you act this innocent sin?" + +"Oh, yes! do spare me, sir, and don't lay on so hard." + +Whack—whack—whack. + +"Spare you, indeed! and how did she fuck?" + +"Oh, most splendidly, sir." + +Whack—whack—whack. + +"How often did you do it?" + +"I hardly know, sir; we were at it all night, and again this morning." + +"Did she suck your prick?" + +"Oh, yes, sir." + +Whack—whack—whack. + +"What did she think of it?" + +"She said it was the finest she had ever seen, and that I must keep it for her only." + +"Well, that will do, now suck my prick, as she did yours." + +He was soon excited up to the top of his bent. He made Harry take the rod, and belabour his backside, and I had to stoop over the table, while he fucked and frigged me, repeating all the time the account we had given him of our fucking. After he spent, he dismissed us, having gained his object. Shortly before our Christmas holidays commenced, dear Mrs. Dale informed me, while sleeping with her one Saturday night, that she found from the stoppage of certain things, she was in the family-way by this sad rogue of a fellow, taking my large though at the moment soft and inert instrument into her caressing hand. + +"Oh, my darling mamma, is it so indeed?" + +My prick rose to bursting point at the very idea, and in an instant I was on her, and we ran a most delicious course, in which both died away in rapturous insensibility. Being thus cooled, mamma began to discuss the probabilities, and what ought to be done, if it should turn out as she feared. She explained to me that as yet she could not speak with certainty, but remembering the fainting on the first night, and the cessation of her monthlies, the nature of which she explained to me, little dreaming that I was perfectly au fait of the whole matter, she had every reason to dread that her fears where too well founded. This would make it necessary for her to go abroad, when she would be so far advanced as to be likely to draw observation. But she said it would not do to distress ourselves about that until we were more certain of the event. However, the very idea nerved me to renewed efforts, and again, and again, we rushed into all the ecstasies of passion in every form and way, especially did I gamahuche and suck up her precious balm, and in like manner she, too, sucked me until exhausted nature laid us both in the lap of Morpheus. We renewed our delightful pastimes when morning light awoke us after our refreshing slumbers. Several times during the Sunday we adjourned to mamma's bedroom for the same purpose, and again had a glorious night of it before separating on the Monday morning. The following Sunday, after another Saturday night of bliss, we all went over to church, which heavy rain had prevented on the previous week, and after service went to the rectory for luncheon. Here, in course of conversation, Mrs. Dale mentioned that business would require her presence in London for some days, and that she proposed starting on the following Thursday, which was the day after our breaking up for the holidays. She said also that she would take her son with her to London. The doctor here observed that he, too, must go to London, to see a gentleman who had some idea of sending his son to the rectory, and if Mrs. Dale could defer the departure until Saturday, it would be very agreeable to him to be her companion on the journey. This was readily acceded to, and my dear aunt, who guessed to what this tended, and who had herself taken a great fancy to Ellen, and longed to embrace her young charms and gamahuche her, chimed in with a proposal that as the dear girl would thus be left quite alone, she would be most happy if she would accept her invitation to occupy the bedroom that opened out of her own room during Mrs. Dale's absence. The latter, who little dreamt of my connection with her dear niece, and thought that the protection of my aunt would be a safeguard to her, jumped at the invitation, and expressed her gratification and thanks for so kind a consideration on my aunt's part. I have not alluded to Harry all this time, but of course, whenever his mother and I were occupied in amorous alliance, he was equally engaged in the same delicious pastime with Ellen. And, I may add, that once or twice I had seized a favourable opportunity of gratifying the little lecherous creature with what she called a feast of my noble prick. She, of course, was delighted at my aunt's proposition as she at once foresaw how she would have me all to herself for more than a week. A single glance from her explained all this; and when, on leaving, she found an opportunity of taking my hand, her pressure of it was most eloquent. So all parties were delighted, for Harry, when we got together alone said—"By Jove, Charlie, I am so jolly glad; I'll bet you anything I'll fuck my mother before I come back. You know how I long to be in the delicious cunt that bore me; the moment I heard she meant to take me with her, my cock stood ready to burst." + +My uncle, too, who also longed to fuck Mrs. Dale, had his intentions in that direction favoured by the arrangement concluded. The following night, when I was in bed with aunt and him, in the interval of a charming little orgie, and after fucking me while I was in aunt's bottom, and for the moment he could do no more, the conversation turned on the coming journey. He expressed the pleasure he felt at the opportunity it gave him of indulging in a long desired object. The lecherous old fellow also alluded to a future opportunity it would give him of enjoying the younger charms of the niece. + +"Of course, you and my dear wife between you will break her in to allow of any action on my part; and, by the way, my dear, I would suggest that you should surprise Charlie in the act, and tear them asunder in pretended rage—that Charlie should seize you, and say he would make you by force a participator in the act, on the pretence of shutting you up for finding fault: you must break from his arms, and fly to your own bed, he must catch you as you try to enter it, and push his great big cock into you, on which you must cry for help, and call upon Ellen to come to your succour; she will come, but I do not judge her right, if she will not rather assist Charlie, by holding you, than otherwise. You must afterwards appear much offended; but it may be safely left to the influence of Charlie's great prick to reconcile you to the incest, then relaxing, as if gained over by it, you can join in their sports." + +Thus this admirable man, with his great knowledge of the world and sex, gave us excellent advice, which, as I shall state in the sequel, we followed pretty exactly. Meanwhile aunt, excited by expectation, had taken my prick in her mouth, and sucked it into firmness, then mounting upon me, she began such an exciting action, wriggling her magnificent backside, that it fired my uncle anew. Finding his prick stood sufficiently stiff, he knelt between my legs, and greatly to the satisfaction of my darling aunt, gave her the double pleasure of two pricks fucking her at the same time, one before and the other behind. + +My guardian had desired that I should continue with my uncle during the holidays, and I was to leave him altogether at the end of the next half. I did not know his object at the time, but I found that he himself went down to my mother, and stayed for a fortnight, paying great attention to Miss Frankland. He announced his wish that my sisters should go to a first-rate finishing school in London in the summer, and seeing Miss Frankland look somewhat disappointed, he sought an interview with her, and laid himself and his fortune at her feet; expressing a wish that if she accepted him, their marriage should take place on her separation from her pupils. This was too good an offer to be refused, and after the usual grimace of being perfectly unprepared for such a proposal, and desiring to have a day or two to consider it, she accepted the offer. I at once anticipated immense gratification from this connection. I should naturally, when in London, have every opportunity of enjoying that adorable creature, and it will be seen in the fourth volume of these memoirs, to what delicious orgies this connection led. You may be sure that my loved mistress, the adorable Benson, and the no less lascivious Egerton, would welcome so glorious a creature as Miss Frankland, at that time become Mrs. Nixon, and how the Count's eyes glistened, when he beheld her in all the majesty of her superb and hairy form; how the two women gamahuched her splendid clitoris, and how the Count and I strove which should most fully satisfy her lascivious and lustful passions. But all this will be seen in its proper place in the sequel. + +Meanwhile the day arrived for the departure of uncle and Mrs. Dale, with Harry. As the coach passed through our village, Mrs. Dale drove over bringing Ellen with her, to leave her at the rectory, as arranged. All the proprieties were duly observed. They departed, Harry going outside, with only the doctor and Mrs. Dale in the interior, I squeezed my uncle's hand, and gave him a knowing look, which he returned, with a meaning wink—and off they went. When we returned to the house, and aunt took Ellen up to the room adjoining her own, with which there was a door of communication, and which, I have before observed, had been made use of by uncle on more than one occasion. When they came downstairs, with kind consideration, for she could see by the protrusion in my trousers the state I was in, aunt said— + +"My dear, I have some household duties to arrange, so you must excuse me; meanwhile Charlie will show you our grounds, and amuse you for an hour or two. When luncheon is ready I shall order the large bell to be rung for you." + +Ellen had not yet removed her bonnet, and taking up her shawl, we sallied out. You may be sure we lost no time in reaching the summer house, already known to you as arranged for and dedicated to the service of Venus. A fire was always kept laid, which I immediately lighted, but as it was a bright sunny day, and the place looked south, it was not at all cold. While I was occupied at the fire, Ellen threw off her bonnet and shawl, and undid her belt—she wore no stays. I seized her in my arms, and gently laid her on the couch—her petticoats were freely canted up, showing her beautiful belly and now more fully fledged cunt. I stooped and gamahuched her at once. She was so excited that in two minutes she sighed deeply, pressed my head down to the lips of her cunt, and gave down her sweet and balmy sperm. I myself was already so rampant that not waiting to lick it up, I brought my huge pego to the charming orifice, and plunged in one effort up to the hilt, quite taking away her breath. But she recovered herself in an instant, and with all the energy of her younger lubricity, quickly brought us both to the grand final ecstasy in which soul and body seem to die away in a joy too great for poor humanity to bear. We remained locked in each other's embrace, and lost to all around for some time. On coming to our senses I rose, and said we must go to work more lasciviously the next time. The fire having burnt up, and the room being small, it was already of a pleasant temperature. So begging Ellen to strip, I threw off my own clothes, and we quickly stood in all the beauty of nature, admiring each other. Some delicious preliminaries preceded our next encounter, which we procrastinated till passion could no longer be restrained, and again we died away in all the raptures of satisfied lust, and sank once more into the soft languor of the after-enjoyment. Next we had a mutual gamahuche, and then a final fuck for the present, as it was time to dress and be ready when called to luncheon. As soon as our toilets were finished, I took her on my knee, and told her how I should steal along to her bedroom at night, so that she must not lock her door. I told her also that we must be as quiet as possible, as aunt slept in the next room. She was delighted with the prospect of having me all to herself for the whole night, naively telling me that I gave her so much more pleasure than Harry did, that I seemed to fill her whole body with a joy almost too intense, and now that she was to have me every night, she hoped her aunt would stay away for a month. Here the dear creature threw her arms round my neck, and kissing me, thrust her sweet little tongue into my mouth. You may be sure I reciprocated, and putting a hand up her petticoats, and a finger up her charming little cunt, was just about to turn her on the sofa, when my aunt opened the door, and stopped further proceedings. She pretended not to see Ellen's confusion, hoped I had amused her, and told us to return to the house, as luncheon was ready. We, of course, obeyed. With sharpened appetites, produced by our late warm exercise, we indulged in a plenteous meal, aunt taking care to ply me with Champagne, for which, as may well be imagined, she had her object. She afterwards ordered me to my room, to do the daily task the doctor had set for me and which, as she said, she was to see to the doing of—giving me a sly wink. + +"Ellen, my dear," she added, "you must keep up your practice at the piano daily, for an hour and a half at least." + +She thus separated us. I went to my room, lay down, and fell fast asleep, but in about half an hour, was awakened by the warm embrace of my glorious and wantonly lustful aunt. She stooped down, and taking my limp prick in her mouth, rapidly sucked it into its accustomed firmness. As soon as that was accomplished, she begged me to rise and undress. She herself had come only in a loose morning dressing-gown, which she instantly threw off, and jumped on my bed, where she lay stark naked, in all the splendid development of her superb form. I was naked in a jiffey, but knowing she would want some extensive fucking, I threw myself upon her cunt, and gamahuched her until she spent twice before I mounted upon her, and introduced my large tool into her longing cunt. Here, also, I played with her, and did not spend myself until she had twice given down her own contribution. This encounter was on her belly, with her magnificent legs twisted above my loins for a fulcrum to her splendid action, for few women could equal her in the delicious wriggle of her glorious backside. After we had soaked for some time in all the ecstasies of the after-languor. I withdrew, to place her on her hands and knees for the next bout, but took advantage of her position to gamahuche her again into spending twice before I withdrew my insidious tongue. Then turning round, and gazing in rapture on that most noble and massive bottom, which, as I have before remarked, I never saw equalled by any woman, I stooped, and closely embraced and kissed its divine orifice, tickling her into wild excitement by thrusting my tongue therein, so much so that she begged me to fuck her at once. I mounted behind, her hand passed under her belly and guided me into her throbbing hot and longing cunt. I gave one violent lunge, and sent my prick at the first thrust up to the hilt. This so excited the dear creature that in one or two delicious wriggles on my stationary prick, and with a pressure that seemed as if it would nip it off, she spent profusely, squealing all the time like a rabbit. I was very glad to give her so many discharges, without myself being forced to spend, for I wished to be able to do my duty by Ellen at night. Aunt lay for several minutes panting and throbbing on my prick most deliciously, until I could no longer bear to be inactive, although the pleasure of looking down on the glorious and palpitating orbs below me had given me the greatest satisfaction. But now stooping down upon her, I passed one hand under to excite her clitoris, and with the other took hold of one of her beautiful large and hard bubbies, and began manipulating its nipples—a proceeding most powerfully exciting to dear auntie. It awoke all her lust and the dear lascivious creature again spent before I was ready to follow suit. The pause that followed allowed my excitement to subside a little, and enabled me to hold out until her lust recovered its wonted energy. She again, with her pressures and movements, soon compelled me to more rapid action, but this time I determined to enjoy the exquisite delights of her delicious bottom-hole. So when she became very hot, I suddenly withdrew, and, happily, hitting at once on the delicious orifice, plunged at the first thrust up to the cods, taking dear aunt's breath away, but she instantly recovered, and loving sodomy to her heart's core, I could not have done anything better suited to her libidinous passions. It was glorious to see the energy with which she met and responded to my thrusts, her superb buttocks working with surprising energy, and giving me, at each stroke, when I buried my prick to the hilt, the most exciting pressures. Both being so lustfully excited, matters were not long in coming to the final ecstasy. I felt as if my whole soul was poured into her, when with loud cries of the liveliest enjoyment, I spent with fury, in the very heart of her entrails. She was perfectly overcome with delight, and sank senseless on her belly, dragging me down with her, for her grip by the sphincter was too strong to let anything out that was within. We both became insensible to everything but the delicious death-like languor of the after-enjoyment. We lay long in this trance of joy, and when dear auntie came to her senses, she begged me to rise, as she must go downstairs. I did so, and when she rose from the bed, she took me in her loving arms, and kissing me tenderly, thanked me for the enormous pleasure I had given her, and said no one in the world was my equal, and that I ought to thank her much, that she allowed any one else to participate in my exquisite power of fuck. She gathered up her gown, and left me to dress. I soon was downstairs, and found Ellen, who looked as if she expected me to find an opportunity to fuck her at once. But after the encounters I had already had, both with her and with aunt, though I had kept myself from excess with the latter, I felt no inclination to press matters again to a conclusion, especially seeing that I intended passing the night with her. So assuring her we should be likely to be caught if imprudent and so lose all chance of night work, she was satisfied to be quiet and reasonable. Aunt coming in, we spent the afternoon in pleasant conversation, and a walk together in the garden. After dinner I fell sound asleep on the sofa. The two women, each with the same object, left me to my deep repose, and only awoke me when it was time for all to retire. Thus refreshed, I was all ready for the night's work before me. I allowed half an hour to elapse, that all the house might to be in their bedrooms, and then, with merely a loose dressing-gown on, I stole along to dear Ellen's room, opened the door and entered. She was already in bed, impatient for my arrival; she had left both lights burning, as well as a cheerful blaze from a good fire. I dropped my robe, and was in an instant stark naked, and in her longing arms. Under our mutual impatience, our first was a rapid course. Then followed a long enjoyment of the after-languor, and then a more prolonged and rapturous embrace. After soaking in bliss for some time, we rose, and I posed her before the fire, gazing delightedly on all her young charms. The hair on her cunt had become much more developed than before, her bosom too was filled out, even her hips and bottom seemed enlarged, doubtless owing to the fucking she had had since I first knew her, which naturally hastened her ripening into womanhood. I grew very excited by this inspection of her increasing charms, and determined to have a fuck on the rug before the fire. In order to enjoy it the more, I drew forward a cheval glass, projected it forward, and lying down, directed her to move it until I was satisfied I could see all the play of her bottom in the position I meant to fuck her. So lying down on my back, I made her stride across my head and settle down on her knees, and bringing forward her delicious little cunt over my mouth, I gamahuched her until she had twice given down her balmy essence. Then she shifted her position lower down, until just above my prick, which by this time was rampant with desire. I guided its point to the rosy-lipped orbit, and bringing her own weight to bear upon it, she sank delightfully impaled upon the upright stake. I made her rise and fall a few times, that I might enjoy the sight of its entrance and exit. Then gently drawing her down upon me, I folded one arm round her slender waist, and turning my head, found that the cheval glass, inclined forward, reflected as it were from above her beautiful bottom and back, and of course her cunt stretched to the utmost with my huge prick, and above it the sweet little corrugated pink aperture of her bottom. With my free arm I embraced one hip, and bringing my hand round, moistened it with the plenteous spunk of her cunt, and insinuated a finger into the smaller abode of bliss. Her excitement grew furious, and knew no bounds. The action of her backside was glorious to see reflected in its active risings and fallings. I let her do all the work, which enabled me to hold back my own, until she approached a second discharge, when the heat of her cunt seemed to fire me with additional powers, and the action of both our backsides became fast and furious, and soon brought down the ecstatic discharge, which instantly laid us low, panting with all the wild passions we had just allayed. We lay long locked in each other's arms in the ecstasy of blissful enjoyment. Then rising, we embraced tenderly, and retook us to bed. I would have excited her and myself to another effort, but she begged off, saying that she felt quite exhausted and overcome with the day and night's work we had already enjoyed. Indeed, I did not wonder at it, for I had made her spend seven or eight times more than myself. Nor did I regret her resolution, as I knew the morning would bring my aunt into the field, and then the two would try my powers to the utmost. + +We slept profoundly, and morning was already advanced before we awoke. From a displaced chair I saw that aunt had been in to look at us, so I knew she was on the watch. I threw the clothes off dear Ellen that I might gaze on all her young charms. The want of covering awoke her. She lovingly looked up at me, and throwing her arms round my neck as I bent over her, drew my head down to hers, and impressed a loving kiss on my lips. Our tongues interlaced—a hand slipped down and encircled my rampant and throbbing prick. I turned, and placing my knees between her legs, was about to penetrate love's bower when the door leading to my aunt's room flew open. My aunt entered, gave a scream of surprise—well acted—and cried out— + +"Good gracious! What do I see? Who would have thought it—" + +And, apparently to save Ellen, she rushed forward, seized me by the arm, and with a certain degree of willingness on my part, drew me out of bed, saying— + +"I am horrified beyond measure. How dare you commit such a sin and crime as to seduce a young girl under my care? Cover yourself up, sir, directly, and go to your own room." + +I boldly declared I would do no such thing; on the contrary, as she had spoiled my sport with Ellen, I was determined she should pay for it herself. + +"How dare you talk to me, you dreadful boy?" + +"Not dreadful at all, dear aunt, look at this poor dumb thing, and see how he longs to be into you." + +Upon this I seized her in my arms as if to throw her on the bed. She made a pretended struggle, during which she gave a tender squeeze to my rampant prick. Then, breaking from me, she fled to her own room, pretending to endeavour to shut the door in my face but taking care to give way and hasten towards her bed. I caught hold of her as she bent forward as if to get into it, and canting up her chemise, the only article of dress she wore, I was into her longing and luscious cunt from behind up to the hilt in one thrust. She gave a subdued scream, and called to Ellen to come and prevent me from violating her. Ellen came, but wisely would only look on while I worked away manfully. + +"Ellen, why don't you pull him away—he is ravishing me—and oh, horror!—committing incest." + +She pretended to struggle greatly, but cleverly did so to her own profit, by wriggling her backside so as to send me further up into her cunt. + +"Oh, Ellen, Ellen, do help me." + +"Ah, no," said Ellen, "I shall let him do it, and then you cannot tell upon me." + +My aunt seemed greatly distressed at this, and actually managed to shed tears, then buried her face in the bed as if in despair, but all the time most actively seconding me. As the crisis drew near, she raised her head, and said— + +"Heaven pardon me, this mere simple schoolboy is exciting me to such pleasure as I never before felt." + +She then gave way to all her lubricity, and we brought matters to a crisis in the utmost ecstasy of enjoyment. Aunt's head sank on the bed, while the rapturous inward pressures of her cunt soon began to raise my prick to its pristine vigour. She felt its throbs and responded to them, but no doubt thinking that an immediate repetition would betray our previous intimacy, she turned her face and body suddenly round, and completely unseated me, my prick coming out with a plop. She began again to weep, women can do so at pleasure, and to scold me for the dreadful crime I had committed; to do so to her was incest—here followed sob upon sob. I threw my arms round her neck, and kissing her tears away, laid all the blame on that rampant fellow—taking her hand and placing it on my still stiff prick. She drew her hand away quickly, but not before she had given it a gentle squeeze. She told me I was a dreadful boy, and that I must go away and leave her and Ellen to think over what could be done in such an awful dilemma. + +Here Ellen came forward, and tenderly kissing her begged her not to send me away. + +"I do so love him, dear madam, and I do so long to have him now—it was so exciting to see him having you, that I shall die if you don't let me have him now." + +"Dreadful! dreadful!" said aunt. "Why, I thought I was just in time to save you." + +"Oh, no, he had slept with me all night, and has often had me before, but he was not the first who had me, so that there was no violation nor seduction." + +"Then you must have seduced him, you wicked minx, for a more innocent boy never was known." + +Poor Ellen, confounded at the accusation, repelled it as untrue, and said she knew well enough who seduced me. + +Aunt for the moment felt this as a home thrust, for be it remembered, she fancied she had had my maidenhead. + +"What do you mean by that? I insist upon you speaking out." + +Ellen gave way and said it was Mrs. Dale who first had me. + +"She had accidentally seen how powerfully Charlie was armed, and then could not resist teaching him how to use his weapon. I saw them doing it, and hence I longed for it myself. Look, dear madam, what a noble one it is. I am sure, if you had known of it, you could not yourself have resisted having it, try it, try it once more, and I am sure you will forgive us, and share our joys." + +I seconded this good advice. Aunt seemed to be afraid of me, and jumped into bed. While she was on her hands and knees I also jumped up, and catching her round the waist, held her fast until I could also kneel behind her and bring my prick into play. With all her apparent attempt at resistance everything was done in such a way as to facilitate rather than prevent matters going forward. Of course I was in her in a moment, and then remained quiet for a few minutes to let her enjoy her inward pressures for which she was so famous. She had buried her head in the pillow, crying out— + +"It is dreadful!—it is dreadful!" + +Ellen came and leant over the bed embracing her, and telling her not to resist, but to take it in freely, and then she was sure it would give her the utmost pleasure. + +"It is that which horrifies me, my dear, I never felt anything so exquisite in my life before, but then think of the sin—with my own nephew! it is quite an incestuous connection." + +"What does that matter, dear aunt? for I shall call you aunt too, you are so loveable and so beautiful. Oh, it was such a pleasure to see him doing it to you and you are so gloriously fine a woman, I longed to be a man to have you." + +She had embraced aunt's splendid bubbies, than which nothing could more please her, and now she begged to be allowed to suck one. Aunt gave way, and was delighted. She slipped the hand next to Ellen down to her charming cunt—Ellen opened her legs—Aunt's fingers began frigging her. + +"Ah, my dear, how I loved to embrace my own sex at your age, our tongues acted instead of men, and I could still delight in a fine fresh one like this, it would almost reconcile me to what this bad wicked boy is doing." + +"Oh, that would be charming!—do let us do it at once. Charlie can withdraw for a moment while I get under you, and while you lick me I can excite you and see the glorious work above me." + +"You tempt me much, my dear girl, but what would your aunt say if she knew?" + +"But she never will know," said Ellen, who was all the time arranging herself on the bed. + +Aunt moved aside to allow Ellen to get under her, who then begged aunt to throw off her chemise that both their bodies might be in close contact. Aunt was longing to do so, yet made some grimaces about it. She at length complied, and striding across Ellen, threw herself with avidity on the delicious young cunt below, and began to gamahuche her a mart. I instantly resumed my position. Ellen guided my prick into aunt's burning cunt, then frigged aunt's clitoris, and worked a finger in my fundament, while aunt was so delightfully gamahuching her. We all rapidly came to the grand finale, with an excess of lubricity rarely equalled. We were all somewhat exhausted by this bout, and, as it was getting late, we rose. Aunt pretended to forgive my violating her for the pleasure I afterwards afforded her. She embraced Ellen tenderly, and said she had so enjoyed her person she hoped to renew such a delight. Then taking hold of my prick she kissed it and sucked it until it stood upright, and said— + +"I don't wonder, my dear, at your having it when once you had seen it, and I envy Mrs. Dale the pleasure of having first enjoyed such a monstrous thing. If I had known he was so wondrously provided, I doubt if I could have resisted the temptation to teach him how to make use of it myself—my only wonder is how such a little thing as you have got could ever take it in." + +Ellen laughed, and said that her cousin Harry had opened the way, or she doubted if ever she could have admitted it, but I was so gentle while getting in, and when once in, it filled up every crevice so deliciously, that she should grieve much if she were refused access to it in future. + +"So, dear aunt, I hope you will let him do it to us both. I can do to you what you have just done to me, because before we had him and Harry, aunt and I used to amuse ourselves in that way. Aunt is immense in that particular, she could put it a little way into me, and gave me great pleasure, and she said that I sucked it better than either her late husband or any of half-a-dozen schoolfellows who used to amuse each other; so, dear aunt, you must let me do it to you while Charlie is in me, and then you will do it to me while he is in you. Only fancy how nice it will be." + +"Oh, you dear little coaxer, you are enough to seduce an angel." + +So all was arranged that Ellen should come from her room and I from mine, and meet in aunt's bed at night. We did so meet, and a most glorious eight days we spent. I showed aunt that I could get into Ellen's bottom-hole, and thereby gave her immense pleasure, and with more reason the same result would occur with her. She gave an apparently reluctant consent, and, that done, there was no bridle to the utmost lubricity that the most wanton lust could devise. Aunt took immensely to Ellen, and gamahuched her à mort, while the other repaid her in kind. I did not regret this for it relieved me from too excessive work. Thus we passed a most delightful eight days before the absent ones joined us. Both uncle and Harry had succeeded in their desires. From each I had the fullest details, but as their stories would in some particulars repeat themselves, I shall relate the events in a connected narrative. + +Uncle and Mrs. Dale had the inside of the coach to themselves, Harry riding outside. Uncle began by praising Harry; and then reverting to the time he was first sent to the rectory, and the note Mrs. Dale sent with him; he asked, not without a knowing smile, if the intimacy she had formerly feared had been at all renewed, because he had observed that Harry appeared worn and pale on his return on the Mondays, and was dull and stupid that day. Mrs. Dale seemed somewhat alarmed at hearing of this, probably she began to think that something might have occurred between the cousins while she was busied with me, uncle observed her uneasiness, and, guessing the cause, said— + +"My dear Mrs. Dale, if anything has taken place, and anything comes of it, I am a man of the world, and you may rely upon my assistance and discretion to take such steps as may tend to keep it from the knowledge of the world." + +She thanked him, and said she would be glad to accept his aid if any unfortunate event should have happened—but she hoped not. + +Uncle saw that her fears were excited, so he held onto the subject, so at last she avowed the she feared there might have occurred some passages between the two cousins, for she had foolishly trusted that all thought of that had gone out of their heads, and she might not have taken such precautions as she ought to have done. + +"Well, my dear madame, my services are at your disposal in case of any necessity, I am not in reality strait-laced, although, in my position, I am obliged to appear so. I feel certain that my experience would be able to suggest the best way of hushing up the scandal if such should be likely to occur." + +Mrs. Dale was profuse in thanks, and the doctor became warmer in his discourse, saying that for such a woman as herself, whom he had long admired and coveted, he would do anything. + +"For, my dear madam, though I am in the church, something of the old Adam still adheres to me, and the sight and touch of one who has so charmed me as you have done makes a young man of me again." + +Here his arm glided round her charming little waist. He drew her to him, and with some coyness and words of refusal, she yielded her lips to his embrace. His other hand, lifting up her petticoats, sought to feel her beauteous cunt. Again resistance of hand and tongue, but a yielding for all that, and the doctor soon got possession of her lovely cunt. Finding her large and fine clitoris in a state of stiffness, he knew that her passions were excited. So opening her legs, he got between them down on his knees, and as he previously unbuttoned his trousers in readiness and the fresh cunt stimulating his powers, he pulled out his prick fully erected, and quickly established himself up to the hilt within, the lady up to the last declaring she could not allow him, but wriggling her bottom to perfection as soon as she felt the doctor's very fine prick working within her. She then hugged and seconded him, kissing and tongueing to his heart's desire. They soon brought things to the ecstatic conclusion, to the great satisfaction of both parties. + +Of course, after this there was no difficulty in arranging for a comfortable meeting in London. Indeed, it was resolved that they should lodge in the same house and have contiguous apartments. On their arrival in town they put up at one of those large lodging houses in Norfolk Street, Strand, and were fortunate in finding the first-floor bedrooms vacant. The house was a double one, or rather two houses opening into each other. The doctor's bedroom was in the front, and a former door of communication with the back room was locked on one side and bolted on the other. Mrs. Dale took the back room, from whence opened a small room with a bed in it, where Harry was lodged. The doctor had thus easy access when the lady chose to withdraw the bolt on her side. After consultation it was thought more advisable that she should go into the doctor's room, so that Harry might not by any possibility, hear any love exclamations that might happen to escape them in the excess of their amorous amusements. Of course, the doctor, who knew all about Harry's great desire to fuck his mother, and that he meant to do so by one way or another in London, communicated his intention of having Mrs. Dale into sleep with him that night, and, therefore, begged Harry to defer his attempt until after the first night, and then the doctor would aid him in his efforts. + +The wily doctor fully intended, after Harry had perfectly succeeded, to become the future companion of their incestuous intercourse. Harry's bedroom door had one of those old-fashioned brass locks that were screwed onto the inside of the door, with a brass covering for the bolt at the side—not morticed as is now usual. Mrs. Dale locked her son in after he retired to bed. Harry noticed the circumstance and smiled to think how easily he could foil her but as he had promised the doctor to make no attempt on his mother that night, he went to bed and slept soundly. Next day he provided himself with a turn-screw and a small phial of sweet oil. When mamma was busy at cards, he slipped upstairs and easily unscrewed the brass receiver of the bolt, he oiled the screws and worked them in and out until they went freely and then screwed the covering on again, and felt secure of entering mamma's room whenever he pleased. It had been combined between the doctor and him that by means of gamahuching and frigging, mamma should be put into a state of great excitement without allowing her to be satisfied, so that her passions might be in favour of being fucked, no matter by what prick. For this purpose the doctor was to keep her with him till dawn. At night Harry watched through the key hole, and when he saw his mother pass into the doctor's room, he at once unscrewed the covering, shot back the bolt, and screwed the cover on again. He was thus all ready for any event, and if his mother was astonished at his entrance, he could say he found the door open, and she must have forgotten to lock it. Thus prepared he went to bed and slept soundly. He was awake before seven o'clock, and gently opening the door a little, he could see by the opposite open door, and the light in the doctor's room, that mamma had not yet left him. He drew on his woollen socks, and sitting where the light flashed through the key hole, awaited his mamma's return, which occurred very shortly after. The shutting off the light by closing the door of communication told him that she had returned to her own room. He heard her sit down on the pot, and the force of the flow of water proved how healthy she was. He heard her rustle into bed. Then throwing off his dressing-gown and socks he opened the door and approached his mother's bed. Being awake, she instantly saw him in the half-daylight that came from the unshuttered window. + +"Harry! What on earth brings you here, and how did you open the door?" + +"I heard you moving, dear mamma, I could not sleep for the cold. I got up and tried the door, it was not locked, you must have omitted to turn the bolt, but I should have rapped and called to you, if it had not been open. I want you to let me get warm in your nice warm bed, and you will cuddle your poor Harry—will you not, dear mamma?" + +"If you will be quiet, and speak lower, for the doctor may hear you, you may come in, and if you turn your back, I will warm you." + +Harry lost no time in lying down by her side, and being really very cold, and even shivering, he was glad enough to do as she bid him, and turn his back, and cuddle his bottom into his mother's belly. She said— + +"Poor boy, he is indeed cold, now go to sleep in mamma's arms." + +Of course, he had no such intentions. Speedily getting warm, he turned his face to mamma, and whispered, in the same tone she used— + +"Oh, how I love my beautiful mamma." + +Pressing his belly against hers, and letting her feel his prick standing against her mons Veneris. + +"Harry! What do you mean by embracing me in that way—don't you know I am your mother, sir?" + +He had seized with one hand her beautiful firm bubbies, and was evidently in full amorous excitement, as she could feel by the stiff pego pushing against her mount of Venus. + +"My darling mamma, if you knew how much I love you and how I have longed to embrace your beautiful body." + +"Go along, you impudent boy, do you not know it would be sinful to indulge in such sentiments with your mother—leave me directly." + +"Oh, no, mamma, I can't, indeed, my own mamma. I mean to possess you, what harm can there be in returning to whence I came." + +Here he transferred his hand from her bubby to her splendid mons Veneris, and showed what his words meant. She pretended to be very angry, and endeavoured to push him away, but he held her round the waist with his other arm too well. + +"Desist this instant, or I shall cry out." + +She really appeared very angry but, nevertheless, did not excite a whisper during all the colloquy before or after. Harry now thought of his best argument. + +"Why do you attempt to repulse me in this way, dear mamma? Why should you not let me enjoy your person as much as you like Charlie to do it?" + +She gave a start at this home thrust. + +"What do you say, you naughty boy? and where did you hear such a falsehood as that? is that one of your friend Charlie's inventions, after all the kindness I have shown him?" + +"My darling mamma, Charlie never opened his lips to me on the subject. I speak from what I saw with my own eyes." + +"What do you mean? Tell me directly." + +"Well, my loved mamma, do you remember the first Saturday night that Charlie and I slept at home: after retiring to my room, I was obliged to go downstairs to the water closet, where I went in my stockings, and without a light, not to disturb you. I was coming up again, when a sudden flash of light shone out in the upper passage. Mounting the stairs, and when my head was on a level with the upper floor, I saw you going towards Charlie's room. I went into my own, but left the door open to see when you would return; finding you did not come back, I crept softly along the passage, until I came to the turning that led to Charlie's room. The light shone through the key hole. I quietly approached. You know the bed exactly faces the door—and there, my darling mamma, I saw you initiate Charlie into what was to him a previously unknown pleasure. Oh! my beloved mother, the sight of your naked charms, of the delicious way in which you were giving him his first lesson in love, maddened me with desire. I was almost tempted to come in upon you and violate you, if you would not consent. It was in that state I remembered that Ellen was asleep in your bed. I ran there, and throwing off the little I had on, I lay down beside her, and began feeling her private parts. She awoke and said— + +"'Dear aunt, do you wish me to do the same to you?' + +"Her hand passed down to my erect member, she gave a cry of astonishment. I whispered it was only me. + +"'Oh! you must leave me directly. Aunt can only have gone to the water closet, and will be back directly.' + +"She was not to be pacified until I convinced her that there was no chance of your speedy return, so I was obliged to bring her along to Charles's door; we saw you quite naked, rising and falling on the enormous weapon that Charles has. I never before saw it erect and could scarcely believe my eyes; nor was it less wonderful the way in which you so charmingly took it in. It greatly excited Ellen, as well as me. We returned to your room—the fire still burned. I laid her down on the rug before it, and took her maidenhead. She had seen how Charlie's monstrous affair went easily into you, and felt how much less mine was, so she never dreamt of it hurting her, and she let me get fairly within the lips; then, while making her spend, I suddenly thrust it through all impediments, and the affair was done; she gave a scream, as it hurt her, but I had shut the door and none of you heard it. I let her sleep after this, and did not do it again till morning. The next night we again watched your delicious proceeding. Ellen was less sore, and we repeated your example several times. She continues to this day to wonder at the enormous size of Charlie's tool, and is surprised at your taking it in so easily. But, oh, my mother, how my passions have been excited by your glorious charms. What is Ellen compared with you? She did very well to relieve my agony of desire to possess you, when I knew you were better occupied, and that I could not do so—but that is all. It is you, and you alone, my beloved mother, whom I adore, and I wildly long to possess this dear and magnificent cunt beneath my hand." Mrs. Dale was perfectly flabbergasted at this recital. "You abominable boy, how dared you to follow me, and be a spy upon your mother, and to make it known to Ellen, too; doubtless you have been boasting of it, and telling others." + +"No, indeed, mamma, Ellen and I were on oath that we would never reveal to any mortal the delicious sight we had seen—so you see, darling mamma, that you can fully trust your own boy. Oh, do let me do it; feel how my poor thing throbs." + +Here I must give you Harry's own account of what took place. + +"I took her hand with very little resistance, and I could feel her fingers gently clasped my prick, before she withdrew her hand. + +"'But no—it cannot be—it would be incest." + +"She twisted her body round, so that her magnificent bottom came against my belly. As she turned, I slipped my hand down, and laid hold of her shift, so that in turning, it left her bottom bare, and sticking out against me. I lost not an instant, and before she had quite settled down, I brought my stiff-standing pego against her delicious cunt from behind, and as it was reeking from her previous spendings produced by the rector's gamahuching, I plunged it at one shove as far as her buttocks against my belly would allow, at the same time dropping my hand from her waist to her cunt, so that when she sprang forward, as if to turn me out, I met her clitoris, it was quite stiff, showing her to be really in a state of amorous excitement. This attack on the clitoris made her as quickly move back, which double movement thoroughly engulphed me. I lost no time in proceeding to the most active movements in and out. This was too much for her, she could not resist entering into the encounter with all the force of her passions, and we ran a very rapid course, ending in the most ecstatic delight, and with sighs of joy we lay clasped together in all the delicious after-languor. I could feel by her exquisite internal pressures that her lust was not yet alleviated, and this nerved me to fresh efforts. After a feigned resistance, dear mamma passed her hand behind her, and putting it on my buttocks, assisted in sending me further in at each home thrust. We were longer this bout, and enjoyed it more. After the usual indulgence in the after-joy, she turned, and embracing me tenderly said— + +"'Oh, my dear child, this is very wrong, but very delicious. You must be very discreet, my dear Harry, for if it were known it would disgrace us both for ever.' + +"'My sweet mamma, do not fear; have you ever seen anything like indiscretion in the last six weeks, although I was madly longing for you? Oh, kiss me, my beloved mother.' + +"The sweetest of kisses followed, our tongues met, her hand wandered; already she found my pego standing. + +"'My darling, I must kiss it, it is so much more developed than I could have expected, and as hard as iron.' + +"'Not as large as Charlie's, mamma.' + +"'That is true, my dear; but it is the stiffness, and not the size, that gives the real pleasure. Of course, when both are combined, as with Charlie, they are irresistible.' + +"Meanwhile I was feeling her cunt: her clitoris, which you know is largely developed, stood stiff. + +"'Mamma, darling, what a size this is. Ellen told me you could put it into her.' + +"'Oh! the bad girl, to tell tales out of school.' + +"'Never mind, mamma, I must suck it while you play with mine.' + +"I turned on my back with my heels up—mamma lay down upon my belly reversed. I sucked her clitty while frigging her cunt, and she sucked my prick until we both spent, and each licked or sucked all the balmy sperm that issued from the other. We continued our caresses until my prick showed its readiness for another encounter. Mamma took me on her belly this time, and as soon as I was engulphed, threw her legs over my loins, and, by the most lascivious actions, contributed to our enjoyment. Her glorious bottom heaved in unison with mine, our tongues were interlaced, and at last with sweet murmurs of delight, we died away in each other's arms in the most luxurious ecstasy of thoroughly gratified desire. We lay long insensible of all around, throbbing in pressures of lascivious delight, which would have soon led to another love bout, but that mamma whispered it would be imprudent to continue, for the sun was up, and breakfast time had arrived. I withdrew from the sweet cunt with great regret, and in slipping out of bed brought my mouth down to it, and gave it a loving kiss and suck, played with the magnificent covering of bushy ringlets, and then tore myself away with difficulty. Thus ended my first possession of my adored and glorious mother, which was followed by night upon night of the most lascivious enjoyment. I returned to my room, and was dressed and downstairs before her. The doctor took an opportunity to inform me that she had excused herself from joining him the next night on the pretence of not feeling well, but in reality it was to have me all to herself for the whole night; and a most delicious night it was. She displayed and exercised her libidinous passions to the utmost. Never before had I such a treat. It was, perhaps, the closeness of the relationship that added to the excitement, but it appeared to me that she beat even the doctor's splendid wife. Oh, she was so loving, too. The way she fondled me in her arms and caressed me was irresistible. I can't tell how often we did it—we were at it all night. The next night, under pretence of fearing to exhaust me, she forced me to retire to my room after two fucks, and locked me in. I had previously been informed by the doctor that he had bespoken her for that night, and he begged me to fuck her first, that the pleasure of gamahuching her might be enhanced. I, therefore, did not do more than make a feigned resistance to her when she told me I must go to my own bed. She said she would let me have one embrace before she rose in the morning but that one was converted into two exquisite spends. The next night the doctor wished to repose, as he purposed surprising me in the morning. I laid myself out for this, and when mamma was asleep I rose as if to piddle. I unbolted the door and shook up the doctor, and then returned to bed. I had agreed with him to make more noise than usual in the final ecstasy; he was to wait long enough to allow of the after-enjoyment, as if he was taking time to clothe himself a little, and was then to come in with a light. My mother still slept. It was about four o'clock in the morning. I began feeling her glorious buttocks, and, sliding under the clothes, turned her legs apart—she insensibly slipped upon her back, I took her charming clitoris between my lips, and soon sucked it into stiffness. The excitement awoke her—she had dreamed I was fucking her—and so was hot and randy. She drew me upon her bosom, threw the clothes off, and her glorious limbs clasped my loins—her two hands pressed on my buttocks, as if to drive me further home, and we ran a most delicious course, I feigned to be even still more excited than I really was, and almost brayed at the ecstatic moment of ejection. Mamma herself was too far gone in delight to notice the loudness of my braying. She lay panting and throbbing on my prick, almost in a state of insensibility to aught else beside. Her eyes were closed, so that she did not observe the entrance of the light carried by the doctor. It was not until he was standing by the bedside, and made an exclamation of surprise, that she was aware of his presence. + +"She gave a scream—though not very loud—and covered her eyes with her hand. I scrambled off her. The doctor, with great politeness, begged her pardon for his intrusion, but hearing what appeared to him an unearthly noise, he had feared she was taken ill. + +"Here the usual resource of woman—tears—fell plentifully from mamma. The doctor most affectionately begged her to calm herself. + +"'My dear madam,' said he. 'I do not in any way blame you for this. I am a man of the world, and I know that incest is practised to a far greater extent than is at all imagined, and to prove that it in no way offends me, I may at once tell you that it was my own mother who initiated me into these delightful mysteries. I see that this dear boy looks terribly frightened at my being a witness to the delight he must have had; but to put him at his ease, we may as well inform him that we, too, have indulged in that delicious game. I may add that this is not the first time I have joined in orgies with more than one man or woman, and nothing gives me more pleasure than to embrace one reeking from the arms of another, especially if I have been a witness to the previous encounter. See, my dear madam, how this dear instrument stands stiff in proof of what I say, and to insure my silence dear Harry must not object to my enjoying you after and before him.' + +"So saying he dropt off his trousers and jumped into bed. He was met with feeble remonstrances from my mother at doing it before her son: but I assured her that I rather preferred to see her at work, as she knew, than otherwise, especially as she evidently enjoyed it so much. So the doctor forthwith mounted her. There could be no doubt that she enjoyed it equally with him. My cock stood at the sight. I put it into her hand, and she squeezed it lovingly—then stooping I sucked one nipple, and you know how this excites her, and slipped a hand behind the doctor, and after gently tickling his ballocks, acted postillion to his bottom-hole. They ran a most exciting course and died away in mutual raptures. No sooner did he turn off than I jumped up into his place, and in one moment was up to the cods in that overflowing cunt. Mamma feebly expostulated, but the doctor begged her to let him have the pleasure of witnessing the vigour of the youth. I knew that in heart mamma was delighted, for all women especially enjoy having a fresh prick into them immediately after a previous one has been withdrawn." + +This is quite true—witness my own dear Benson in our early days; her greatest delight was to have me the instant B. retired, and she avowed that nothing could give her greater pleasure. I knew a lady in after-life whom I and three others used to have together, and no sooner was one off than another was on and sometimes two at once. She used to tell us how she deceived her husband. When at Florence she had eight lovers, and she had had them all on the same night without any of them knowing of the others. She managed it in this way. She made them come—two at ten o'clock, two at half-past ten, two at eleven, and two at half-past eleven. They were put in four different rooms with convenient sofas. She ran to No. 1 in a merely loose robe, which was instantly thrown off. She was a magnificently made creature, the sight of whose charms would inflame any one. She rapidly got two goes from the first without withdrawing. Then saying that her husband would be seeking her if she did not leave him, she rang for her German valet, who used to fuck her himself, and who afterwards confirmed her story to me, who showed my gentleman out of the room. Off she ran to No. 2, told him she had only got away by letting her husband have a go, and that he thought she had only gone to the water closet so he must do one good and leave her. Of course the cunt full of fuck only excited him the more, and he very soon racked off to her great satisfaction, and was dismissed, leaving the rooms vacant for the two at eleven. As there was not five minutes to spare she ran to No. 3, where another lover was waiting. The same pretence was made as to the last, but as he was largely hung, she got two coups from him and then packed him off, and in the same way ran to the others, always with the same story, getting two coups out of three running, who were the best fuckers, and waiting with the last until he could do no more. + +The same lady told me that once while living at Dieppe her husband ran over to England for a few days. During his absence she had four young men to supper every night, and made them all fuck her on the sofa squabs laid on the floor, accommodating one in her bottom at the same time. During the day her landlord, a married man, used to come in and rack her off besides. At one time she was left alone at Mannheim, where she made acquaintance with an officer, who introduced a second, and a third, until she knew eight in all. She had the whole lot once to supper, and they all fucked her three times each. She was a wonderfully fine woman, and could take no end of fucking. Her father had initiated her at twelve years of age. She was of Greek origin, and actually was hairy and menstruated at that early age. But all women are rakes in their hearts, and numbers never encumber them. + +During Harry's encounter with his mother, the doctor stood beside them, and handled Harry's ballocks and acted postillion to him. Mamma took to it most kindly. The sight again inflamed the doctor, the incestuous idea enhancing the excitement. As Harry withdrew, he begged Mrs. Dale to get on her hands and knees, to let him put it in from behind. He would rather have gone in behind but did not think she was as yet quite prepared to allow that. He only said that the movement below his eyes of such a fine bottom as hers added to the excitement. He further proposed that she should kneel over Harry's body reversed, so that she might gamahuche him, and he frig her beautiful clitoris. + +"You mean to kill me between you," she said, but all the same complied. She sucked Harry's prick and he spent in her mouth, which she swallowed with great gusto, spending herself at the same moment in advance of the doctor. Harry kept frigging her clitoris with one hand, while the other was frigging the doctor's bottom-hole. It was a long bout, she made Harry spend twice in her mouth, while she spent thrice to the doctor's once, all dying away together in the final fuck. They lay long lost to everything, and when they recovered, they separated and retired to their own rooms. + +The ice being thus broken, the remaining days were passed in the most refined lasciviousness. The doctor had his way with her bottom, and asked her leave to have Harry's after Harry had had his mother's bottom-hole, while the doctor was fucking her, and had fucked the doctor upon another occasion, the doctor crying out—"Hi, hi, hi!" as if it hurt him, and he was losing his maidenhead. He professed immense satisfaction, when she let him have Harry, declaring that he could not tell whether having her both ways, having Harry, or being had himself, was the greatest pleasure. Mamma declared that to have both apertures filled at the same moment was the most delicious. It was then the doctor said he would try. So fucking mamma in a kneeling position he presented his great backside to Harry and was well fucked. It was after this complete initiation that they returned home, and after such proceedings, the transition to a general entry into our orgies was easily arranged. As they were to arrive to a late dinner, it was resolved that Mrs. Dale should stay the night, and we would see what that would bring forth. They arrived accordingly. Mrs. Dale went to Ellen's room, taking Ellen with her to help her at her toilet. Here ensued an explanation between them. Mrs. Dale felt that there must be an explicit avowal on both sides. She admitted to Ellen that Harry had come to her bed, and only succeeded in his horrible purpose by telling her how he and Ellen had seen her operations with Charlie, and had followed her example. + +"And now, my dear Ellen, as there must be no secrets between us, tell me if you and Charlie have got together." + +"Well, yes, we have. You know I had seen how immense he was, and yet with what pleasure you took him in. So curiosity made me give way one day that we were in the summer house, and he slept with me afterwards." + +"Does the doctor's wife suspect?" + +"Oh, yes, she knows all about it. I forgot to bolt the door one night; in the morning Charlie made too much noise. She came in, merely in her chemise, ran up and pulled him off me, without imagining she ran any risk herself. Charlie seized her in his arms, and swore he would do as much to her, to prevent her telling. She was horrified, and fled to her own room, but had not time to shut him out; he forced the door open, she ran to her bed, intending to ring for the servant, he caught her as she had one knee up on the bed, and was into her from behind before she could accomplish her purpose. She cried out to me, to come and pull him away. I went, but told her Charlie was right, as it would prevent her splitting upon us. I rather think that Charlie's large proportions gave her much pleasure, for she soon ceased to struggle, indeed she had her back to him, and his strong arms round her waist prevented her using her hands. She cried much afterwards, and talked about the greatness of the crime. She had then got into bed. Charlie followed, to coax and console her, and, of course, got into her again. I thought she enjoyed the second, for her bottom heaved to meet him. She afterwards accused him of the crime of seducing a young lady, her guest, but I stopped that, by avowing that my cousin had had me previously. Then she accused me of seducing Charlie, and here, I must implore your pardon, for I let out inadvertently that you had initiated him, for I had seen you having him." + +"Oh, you bad girl, how could you be so cruel and imprudent?" + +"Well, dear aunt, there is no great harm done. Charlie's aunt was soon quite appeased and regularly joined us after this. She is as fond, if not fonder, of gamahuching me as you used to be; she has grown greedy for Charlie's immense cock, envies your having had the first of him, and says that if she had known of his wonderful proportions, she could not have resisted initiating him herself. She hopes that, through my means, she will become more intimate with you. I have told her of your beautiful clitoris. She dotes on the gamahuche, and vows that she will never be happy till she has done it to you." + +This explanation was a great relief to the widow, who knew she was all right with the doctor, and now foresaw that it would be all right with his wife also and they would have complete freedom to indulge in the wildest lubricity. So having dressed, they descended to dinner. The doctor had explained all their London doings to his wife, so that after dinner the three ladies exchanged confidence. Aunt was so eager to see and suck Mrs. Dale's large clitoris that they adjourned to aunt's bedroom, where the doctor discovered them in the midst of their operations. Mrs. Dale was stretched on her back, with extended thighs—aunt, with her head pressed by Mrs. Dale's hands down on her cunt, was sucking at the splendid clitoris, and working some fingers in and out her cunt. They were too intent on their pleasure to notice his entrance. Aunt's petticoats were above her hips, as she knelt. The old boy's cock stood, he advanced, knelt down, got between her legs, and fucked her as she was, begging her to continue her lascivious operations on Mrs. Dale. When he had finished, he congratulated both ladies on the intimate friendship established between them, said it was the best wish of his heart. He assured Mrs. Dale that his wife was the best woman in the world, and never grudged him a little variety. + +"So I have acknowledged my infidelity with you, and it appears my nephew has been taking my place, in my absence. She tells me you instructed Charlie, and that he is monstrous when in erection, as big again as me, or as a certain Grenadier Captain, once a favourite of my wife's. I am curious to see it. She tells me also that he has been sleeping with your charming niece Ellen, who, I must confess, has raised in me a great desire to possess her. Now, my dear madam, if you will consent to invite Charlie to sleep with you and Ellen, I could come in, after you have each had a turn or two out of Charlie, and take Ellen, while you would have Charlie all to yourself. My wife won't object, and I hope you will give your consent." + +"Well, my dear doctor, after what has occurred between us, I can refuse you nothing, but I think dear Harry should have some comfort. I suppose, my dear madam, that the doctor has told you of my son surprising and violating me. Your husband reconciled me to his caresses, and I can assure you that without the enormous size of Charlie, he has a charming way that may please any woman. From what the doctor says, you are free from prejudices, why should you be left out in the cold, while we are all enjoying ourselves, why should you not go to his bedroom, and see what he is made of. I, his mother, can strongly recommend him to your favour." + +So it was arranged. + +During the evening, Mrs. Dale whispered to me to come to them after the domestics had gone to bed. I went and fucked them both three times, twice in front and once behind, the one who was being fucked always gamahuching the other. When I began to tail off, Mrs. Dale arose, unbolted the door of communication with uncle's room, and invited him to Ellen's arms, who was very glad to have a little further experience of another man's prick. Uncle gallantly gamahuched her before fucking her, then begged to see my wonderful prick, pretended to be perfectly astonished at its monstrous dimensions, and wondered how Ellen's little cunt could ever have taken it in. It was a tight fit certainly, but the dear creature liked it none the worse for that. Before fucking Ellen, he begged Mrs. Dale to let him guide my large prick into her. After enjoying our first movements, and being excited into sufficient consistency, he proceeded to fuck dear Ellen; even he had some difficulty in entering, notwithstanding the libations I had previously poured into her, but being once fairly hilted, he declared it was one of the tightest little cunts it had ever been his good fortune to fuck. After this, we proceeded each our way, and with a longer interval, brought matters to the exquisite conclusion, panting and throbbing for some time afterwards. + +The doctor now retired, and we arranged ourselves for repose. We were awakened in the morning by the entrance of aunt and Harry. He flew to his mamma's arms, who lay down on Ellen to gamahuche her while Harry was fucking her. Aunt and I coupled in the old-fashioned way. Uncle entered while we were in full operation, and seeing the tempting backside of Harry, scrambled up behind and fucked his bottom. After we had done, aunt pretended to be shocked at his attack on a boy's bottom—a woman's was a different thing. + +"Well, then, my dear, get upon Charlie the next time, and I shall fuck your truly magnificent bottom." + +And he drew Mrs. Dale's attention to the glorious proportions, not only of aunt's bottom, but of her body, and all her limbs. + +"Oh, it is indeed glorious," said she. "I must, my dear madam, gamahuche you. I have not forgotten the exquisite pleasure you gave me in that way." + +"Willingly," cried my aunt, "provided you give me your clitoris to occupy me." + +"Certainly, that will suit me admirably; but you must lie upon me, that I may have the pleasure of gazing on that magnificent bottom, and caressing the immense rotundities of your buttocks." + +Oh, it was a glorious sight to see these two wanton lascivious women in the full enjoyment of each other. It set us all on fire, and the moment they had done I slaked the fire within me in the capacious but tight cunt of my aunt, while uncle fucked her bottom-hole. Mrs. Dale lay under Ellen, while Harry fucked Ellen from behind, and Ellen gamahuched her aunt, who herself guided her son's prick into Ellen's cunt, and tickled her clitoris, at the same time acting postillion to her son's bottom-hole. + +Oh! it was a splendid bout—we were all so excited and it was also the first meeting of us all in one orgie. We all died away in a perfect heaven of ecstasy, and lay long in the after-enjoyment. Our previous night's work made this the last for the time, and we all separated to seek some welcome repose before breakfast time. + +Mrs. Dale remained our visitor for three days, during which we met in the doctor's bedroom every night, and renewed our delicious orgies. Mrs. Dale carried off her son and niece, and I promised to come over to her cottage on the following Saturday, when Harry and I took turn and turn about with the two dear creatures, sometimes fucking one between us two at once. When the school resumed its work, Mrs. Dale and Ellen always dined at the rectory on Sunday and slept there, when we made a general orgie in the old style. + +This continued until our midsummer holidays, when I was to leave the rectory for King's College. Mrs. Dale's and Ellen's pregnancies, daily becoming nearer to the period of parturition, were getting more difficult to conceal. We had long discussions with uncle as to what was best to be done. It was at last arranged that they should leave the cottage as if for a tour on the continent, but in reality should only go to Paris, and take apartments in the house of a good accoucheuse in the environs, and remain quiet there till the period of delivery. It was not necessary for them to go before we broke up, and the doctor and Harry and I could accompany them, and after I had seen my guardian on my return to London, I had no doubt of getting his leave, and the necessary means to visit the continent up to the middle of October, when the classes would begin. It all fell out as arranged. Nothing of the pregnancy was visible, thanks to the full robes worn. + +We accomplished our journey, found a capital accoucheuse in a beautiful neighbourhood, with a large garden. Harry, uncle, and aunt remained with them, while I returned to London. I saw my guardian, who, after putting me through an examination, expressed himself much pleased with my progress, said the visit to the continent would expand my mind, and that he would furnish me with the means. He recommended that I should visit my mother first for a fortnight, and announced that at about the end of that time the girls would come up to London to enter a first-rate finishing school. He further told me he had proposed to and had been accepted by Miss Frankland, and they were to be married at the same time; my sisters were to be bridesmaids, and I could be present at the marriage before going abroad. All this being arranged, I ran down home. My mother was delighted to see me, and thought me grown and much improved. It is needless to say how glad my sisters and Miss Frankland were to see me. They had had no fucking except by tongue or dildo, so you may imagine the fury with which they set upon me the first two or three nights. We resumed all our lascivious operations of former days. My sisters had developed into splendid women, the youngest still the most libidinous. Dear Miss Frankland, on my congratulating her on her intended marriage, lovingly told me that it was the prospect of being near me that had reconciled her to it. We spent a most delicious fortnight, which passed like a day. + +I found an opportunity of fucking my old governess, Mrs. Vincent that was. My son was a fine little fellow, toddling about and talking already. His mother loved me as much as ever, and was become a finer developed woman, more amorous and lecherous than she used to be. She said no one could be kinder or more loving than her husband, and she had never been unfaithful to him but with me, whom, as her own formation, she must always love, and would never refuse me anything I asked when it could be safely done. At the sole opportunity I had I fucked her three times without drawing, and finished with a bottom-fuck. I may here mention that a little girl followed for nine months from that period, which she always assured me was mine. + +My mother, the girls, and Miss Frankland all came up with me to London. The marriage went off with eclat. My guardian made very handsome presents to my sisters, and gave me a gold watch, chain, and seals, together with a handsome cheque for my travelling expenses. He and his bride, whom I fucked just before she went to church, departed for Scotland, to return by the English lakes, for their honeymoon trip. A few days afterwards, having had two or three nights excellent fucking with my sisters, mamma and I conducted them to their school, and left them with tearful adieux. My mother was to remain in town for a week until uncle and aunt's return, when she intended to accompany her sister to the rectory and remain there until I returned from the continent. I was quickly again in Paris. We took rooms near the two darlings, where uncle and aunt remained for the week they had yet to stay. We took mamma and Ellen several times to the play, and they slept with us every night. Uncle and aunt left at the end of the week, but we kept on the apartments for the dear women to come to us, fucking them as much as we could. It seemed as if their pregnancy stimulated their lubricity, for we could hardly satisfy them. We had at least always to take them on hands and knees, although neither of them ever showed much in front—their babes lying just between—but, by Jove, their hips expanded splendidly. Dear mamma measured a yard across, and her backside projected almost as much as my aunt's. She loved to be fucked in her bottom-hole to the last. We actually had them both up to the night before the day they were each confined. Nothing could be more favourable than their time. As I formerly stated, each had a little daughter. + +On the ninth day afterwards they were both able to rise, but as it would have been very prejudicial to renew our intercourse before another three weeks had elapsed, Harry and I went off for a walking excursion in Switzerland, which we traversed in all directions, with continual delight at the glorious scenery. We did not touch a single woman. When very sharp set we fucked each other, but very little even of that, so that we renovated our constitutions and returned in robust health, ready to do justice to the charms of the two darlings, who had impatiently awaited our arrival. + +It is needless to repeat the description of the delicious fucking with which they welcomed us. They appeared more lovely than ever, especially Ellen, who had developed into womanhood. We made arrangements to leave the two darling children in the hands of a healthy wet nurse, and set out on an expedition down the Loire to Tours, Bordeaux, and the Pyrenees, returned at the end of September by Montpellier, Nismes, Avignon, and Lyons. + +The two babes were in excellent health. Arrangements were made for their remaining with their foster mother for a year, and we all returned to London together. + +We had three nights' delicious fucking before they returned to the country, and promises were made that they would come to town from time to time to renew our orgies. My mother and aunt came up to see me settled in my lodgings, which were taken in Norfolk Street, and I was entered at King's College. + +I passed a delicious night with aunt before she left; and ran down with my mother to see her safe home. On my return I found my guardian had returned. I called to pay my respects to his wife. I found her alone, and we managed her first piece of adultery, which, as you may suppose, was not the last. But as this third volume is already a long one, I shall here close it. + +The fourth will introduce us to London, and renew the delicious intercourse with Mrs. Benson, as well as with my guardian's wife, and our dear friend MacCallum, as well as many other friends. + +I concluded my last volume by saying that I had taken lodgings in Norfolk Street, Strand, for the convenience of being near King's College. It was at the house of a Mrs. Nichols, tall, powerfully built, masculine, but a kind and motherly looking widow of fifty-two--an attentive and bustling landlady, looking herself to the better cooking, and having a plain cook, who was also a general servant, to help her downstairs, and two nieces to do the waiting and attendance on her lodgers upstairs. The younger was there alone when I entered the lodgings; her elder sister had had what they called a "misfortune," and was then in the country until she could be unburthened of it. She was expected back in about six weeks. Meanwhile, as the winter was not the season, I was the only lodger, and the younger had only me to attend to; her name was Jane; she was but a little thing, but very well made, good bubbies and bottom, which I soon discovered were firm and hard, projecting fully on both sides. She was fairly good looking, but with a singular innocent manner of freedom about her that made me imagine she had as yet had no chance of a "misfortune." In a week we became intimate, and after often praising her pretty face and figure, I snatched a kiss now and then, which at first she resented with an attractive yet innocent sort of sauciness. It was in her struggles on these occasions that I became aware of the firm and hard bosom and bottom. + +Up to this time my flirtations were without ulterior object, but the reality of the attractions of these hidden charms raised my lustful passions. I gradually increased my flatteries and caresses, squeezed her bubbies, when I sometimes drew her on my knee and was kissing her, and as at first she resisted my drawing her to my knee, I took occasion to lay hold of her buttocks, which I found more developed than I could have supposed. Gradually her resistance to these little liberties ceased and she would quietly sit on my knee and return the kiss I gave. Her dress was a little open in front, so from feeling her bubbies outside, I gradually got to feeling their naked beauties inside. I now thought I could attempt greater familiarities, so one day when seated on my knee with one arm round her waist, I pressed her to my lips, and while so engaged, whipt my free arm up her petticoats, and before she had become aware of the movement, had got my hand upon her mount, a very nicely haired one. She started up to a standing position, but as I held her close clasped round the waist she could not get away, and her new position enabled me the easier to get my hand between her thighs and thus to feel her charming pouting little cunt. I began attempting to frig her clitoris, but stooping she drew her cunt away, and looking at me with a droll innocent expression of alarm, and with a perfect unconsciousness of the import of her words, cried,--"Oh! take care what you are at. You don't know how a lodger this last summer suffered for seizing me in that way and hurting me very much. I screamed out, aunt came up, and, do you know, he had £50 to pay for his impudence." + +I could not but smile at the extraordinary innocence of the girl. + +"But I do not hurt you, dear Jane," said I, "and don't mean to do so." + +"That was what he said, but he went on in a most horrible way, and not only hurt me very much, but made me bleed." + +"It would not be with his hand, you see I only gently press this soft hairy little thing. I am sure that don't hurt you." + +"Oh, no! if that was all I should not mind it, it was when he pushed me on the sofa, and pressed upon me, that he hurt me terribly, and you must take care what you are about, or you, too, will have to pay £50." + +There was a curious air of innocence in all this; it was evident to me the fellow had got into her, and broken her hymen with violence, and then her screams had prevented his finishing his work. Her manner convinced me that she was really not aware of the consequences, or rather had not as yet really had her sexual passions aroused. + +"Well, my dear Jane, I neither intend to hurt you or make myself liable to pay £50, but you will not refuse me the pleasure of feeling this nice little hairy nest, you see how gentle I am." + +"Well, if you will do me no more hurt than that I shan't refuse you, because you are a nice kind young gentleman, and very different from the other rough fellow, who never chattered with me and made me laugh as you do--but you must not push your fingers up there, it was something he pushed up there that hurt me so." + +I withdrew my finger, and as, at my request, she had opened her thighs a little, I felt and caressed her very nice little cunt, and with a finger pressed externally above her clitoris, I could see that she flushed and shivered on feeling me there. However, I did no more than gently press and feel all her hairy mount and fat pouting cunt; she said I must let her go, or her aunt would be coming up. + +The first step was now gained. Gradually I progressed further and further; felt her charming bare arse as she stood before me, got her to let me see the beautiful curls she had got on her cunt, then came to kissing it, until at last she opened her thighs and let me tongue it, to her most exquisite delight. I made her spend for the first time in her life, and soon she came to me for it. I had gradually introduced a finger up her cunt while licking her clitoris and exciting her so much that she was unconscious of my doing it; then two fingers, and after she had spent deliriously, I made them perform an imitation of a throb, which made her jump and ask what I was doing. I asked if she did not feel that my fingers were inside of her sweet Fanny. + +"You don't say so. It was there I was so hurt." + +"But I do not hurt you, dear Jane?" + +"Oh, dear no, it makes me feel queer, but it is very nice." + +"Well, now you know that I have two fingers inside, I will use my tongue again against your charming little clitoris, and work the fingers in and out." + +I did so, and she soon spent in an agony of delight, pressing my head down hard on her cunt, and crying--"Oh! oh! it is too great a pleasure!" and then died off, half insensible. Another time I repeated this she told me not to forget to use my fingers. Having made her spend twice I took her on my knee, and told her that I possessed an instrument that would give her far more pleasure than tongue or finger. + +"Indeed?" said she, "where is it? I should so like to see it." + +"You won't tell." + +"Oh, no!" + +So pulling out my stiff-standing prick, she stared in amazement. She had really never seen a prick, although it was evidently a prick that had deflowered her, for with my fingers I had explored her cunt, and found no hymen there. I put her hand upon it, she involuntarily grasped it firmly. + +"This enormous thing could never get into my body, look, it is thicker than all your fingers put together, and only two fingers feel so tight." + +"Yes, darling, but this dear little thing stretches, and was made to receive this big thing." + +I was exciting her clitoris with my finger, she grew evidently lasciviously inclined, so saying, "Just let me try, and if it hurts you I will stop; you know I am always gentle with you." + +"So you are, my dear fellow, but take care not to hurt me." She lay down on the bed, as I desired, with feet up and knees laid open. I spat on my prick, and wetted the knob and upper shaft well, then bringing it to her cunt, well moistened by my saliva in gamahuching her, I held open the lips with the fingers of my left hand, and half buried its knob before getting to the real entrance. + +"Don't flinch, dearest, I shall not hurt." And I got it well over the knob, and buried it one inch further. + +"Stop!" she cried, "it seems as if it would burst me open, it so stretches me." + +"But it does not hurt you, dearest?" I had immediately stopped before asking the question. + +"No not exactly, but I feel as if something was in my throat." + +"Rest a little, and that will go off." I slipped a finger down on her clitoris, and as I frigged it she grew more and more excited, giving delicious cunt pressures on my prick, it gradually made its way by the gentle pushing I continued to make without other movements. It was more than half in when she spent, this not only lubricated the interior, but the inner muscles relaxing, a gentle shove forward housed it to the hilt, and then I lay quiet until she recovered from the half fainting state her last discharge had produced; soon the increased pressures of the inner folds showed that her passions were awakening afresh. She opened her eyes and, looking lovingly, said I had given her great pleasure, but she felt as if something enormous was stretching her inside to the utmost. Had I got it all in? + +"Yes, dearest, and now it will be able to give you greater pleasure than before." I began a slow withdrawal and return, frigging her clitoris at the same time, for I was standing between her legs. She soon grew wild with excitement, nature prompting her, her arse rose and fell almost as well as if she was mistress of the art. The novel combination of prick and finger quickly brought on the ecstatic crisis. I, too, was wild with lust, and we spent together, ending in an annihilation of all our senses by the extreme ecstasy of the final overpowering crisis. We lay panting for some time in all the after-joys. Dear Jane begged me to give her some water, as she felt quite faint. I withdrew, still almost in a standing state, got her some water, helped her up, seated her on the sofa and kissed her lovingly as I thanked her for the exquisite joy she had given me. She threw her arms round my neck, and with tears in her eyes told me I had taught her the joys of heaven, and she should always love me, and I must always love her, for now she could not live without me. I kissed and dried her eyes, and told her we should in future enjoy it even more when she got accustomed to it. + +"Let me see the dear thing that gave me such pleasure." + +I pulled it out, but it was no longer at the stand; and this surprised her. I explained the necessity of its being so, but said she would quickly see it rise and swell to the former size if she continued to handle it so nicely. It rose almost before I could say as much. She fondled it, and even stooped and kissed its ruby head. We should quickly have got to another bout of fucking if the ringing of the call bell had not brought us to a sense of its imprudence; so after arranging her hair and dress, she hastily descended with some of the breakfast things. + +Of course, so good a beginning led to constant renewals and Jane quickly became extremely amorous, and under my instruction a first-rate fucker. + +As all my dear friends were not in London, I was fortunate in having such a _bonne bouche_ to comfort me. My sisters passed every Sunday with me, and both got some good fucking out of me in every way, without raising any suspicions in the house. + +A month after I had taken up my residence at Mrs. Nichols's, Jane's sister arrived. She was a much finer woman than Jane, broad shouldered, wide-spread bosom, which, in after-days, I found had not suffered by her "misfortune," but then she had not suckled it. Her hips were widely projected, and she was grand and magnificent in her arse. Naturally of a very hot temperament, when once she had tasted the magnificent weapon I was possessed of, she grew most lasciviously lustful, and was one of the best fuckers I ever met with. Her power of nip almost equalled by beloved aunt's. Jane was fair, Ann was dark, with black locks and black hairy cunt--a very long cunt, with a small tight hole in it, and above it a wide-spread projecting mount, splendidly furnished with hair. Her clitoris was hard and thick, but with little projection. She also became madly fond of arse-fucking, and particularly liked me to spend therein. This was partly to prevent any consequences leading to a second "misfortune." + +On her first arrival Jane was much afraid she would discover our connection and we took every precaution, although I, in my heart, wished this might occur, for as she occasionally waited on me, I grew lecherous upon one whose charms, even covered, excited me greatly. I always flattered and praised her magnificence of figure whenever she came alone to me, but as Jane generally was running in and out, I did not attempt further action. One morning I overheard Mrs. Nichols tell Jane to put on her bonnet and go to Oxford Street on some errand; I knew thus that Ann would attend on me, and there would be no chance of interruption from Jane, so I determined to come at once to the point. We had become on friendly, chatty terms, and when she had laid breakfast I asked her to help me on with my coat, which done, I thanked her and with one arm round her waist drew her to me and kissed her. "Hallo!" said she, "that is something new," but did not attempt to withdraw, so giving her another kiss, I told her what a glorious woman she was, and how she excited me--just see. I held one of her hands, and before she was aware, placed it on my huge prick, that bulged out of my trousers as if it would burst its way through. + +She could not help squeezing it, while she cried--"Goodness, gracious! what an enormous thing you have got!" + +Her face flushed, her eyes sparkled with the fire of lust that stirred her whole soul. She tried to grasp it. + +"Stop," said I, "and I will put it in its natural state into your hand." + +So pulling it out, she seized it at once, and most lasciviously gazed upon it, pressing it gently. She evidently was growing lewder and lewder, so I at once proposed to fuck her, and thinking it best to be frank, and put her at her ease, I told her that I knew she had had a "misfortune," but if she would let me fuck her I should be on honour to withdraw before spending, and thus avoid all chance of putting her belly up. + +She had become so randy that she felt, as she afterwards told me, she could not refuse so splendid a prick of a size she had often dreamt of, and longed for. + +"Can I trust you?" said she. + +"Safely, my dear." + +"Then you may have me--let me embrace that dear object." + +Stooping, she kissed it most voluptuously, shivering at the same time in the ecstasy of a spend produced by the mere sight and touch. She gave one or two "oh's," and drawing me to the bed by my prick, threw herself back, pulling her petticoats up at the same time. Then I beheld her splendid cunt in all its magnificence of size and hairiness. I sank on my knees and glued my lips to the oozing entrance, for she was one who spent most profusely, her cunt had the true delicious odour, and her spunk was thick and glutinous for a woman. + +I tongued her clitoris, driving her voluptuously wild. So she cried-- + +"Oh! do put that glorious prick into me, but remember your promise." + +I brought it up to that wide-spread, large-lipped, and immense cunt. I fully expected that big as I was I should slip in over head and shoulders with the greatest ease. So you may imagine my surprise to find the tightest and smallest of entrances to the inner vagina I almost ever met with, it was really with greater difficulty I effected an entrance than I had with her little sister, whose cunt presented no such voluptuous grandeur. It was as tight a fit as Ellen's was to me on our first coition. Tight as it was, it gave her nothing but the most exquisite pleasure, she was thoroughly up to her work, and was really one of the most voluptuous and lascivious fuckers I have ever met with, excellent as my experience has been. I made her, with fucking and frigging, spend six times before I suddenly withdrew my prick, and pressing its shaft against her wet lips, and my own belly, spent deliciously outside. Shortly after it rose again, and this time after making her spend as often as before, for she was most voluptuously lustful, when I withdrew, she suddenly got from under me, and seizing its shaft with one hand, stooped and took its knob between her lips, and quickly made me pour a flood of sperm into her mouth, which she eagerly swallowed and sucked on to my great delight. + +We should have had a third bout but for the necessity of her going down to her aunt. + +I breakfasted, then rang to take away. Again we had a delicious fuck, and a third when she came to make the bed and empty the slops. This third time I begged her to kneel on the sofa, and let me see her gloriously grand arse, and when I had to retire I would show her a way that would continue both our pleasure. So after fucking her from behind, and making her spend far oftener than me, I withdrew, and pushing it up between the lips over the clitoris, with my hand round her waist, I pressed it tightly against her cunt and clitoris, and continued to wriggle my arse, made her spend again as I poured a flood all up over her belly. She declared it was almost as good as if inside. + +After this very shortly I proposed to push its nose into her bottom-hole, and just spend within. + +With reluctance at first, it ended in her not only liking the point there, but deliciously enjoying my whole prick within, and eventually it was always the receptacle of a first discharge induced by fucking, and a second fuck completely carried on in that more secret altar of lust. She became a first-rate _enculeuse_. + +It soon happened that both sisters knew of the other enjoying me, and it ended in their slipping down from their attic, where both slept in the same bed, to my room, and we had most delicious fucking and double gamahuching. + +Ann was by far the finest and the most lascivious fuck, but little Jane had a certain charm of youth and also of freshness, which got her a fair share of my favours. + +We carried this on for several weeks until use made us careless and noisy. + +The aunt, when no lodgers occupied the room, slept overhead, and, probably being sleepless one morning, when it was early daylight, heard our voices, came down and surprised me in the very act of fucking Ann and gamahuching Jane, who stood above her and presented her cunt to my lecherous tongue. A loud exclamation from their aunt roused us up at once. + +"Get to bed, you dreadful hussies." + +They fled without a moment's hesitation. + +Mrs. Nichols then began to remonstrate with me on the infamy of my conduct. I approached the door apparently to get my shirt, for I was stark naked, but in fact to shut and lock my door, and then to turn on Mrs. Nichols, who apparently had quite forgotten she had only her short shift on, which not only allowed the full display of very fine, firm, and ample bubbles, but not falling below the middle of her thighs, showed remarkably well made legs and small knees, with the swelling of immense thighs just indicated. + +My stiff-standing prick in full vigour, and if anything, still more stimulated by the unexpected beauties shown by Mrs. Nichols, I turned upon her and seizing her round the waist from behind, pushed her forward, and before she could recover herself I had hauled up her "cutty sark," seen a most magnificent arse, and into her cunt--not without somewhat painful violence, before she could recover from the surprise of the attack. + +She screamed out murder, but there was no one who could hear but the girls, and they knew better than to interrupt me. I kept fucking away in spite of cries, and passing an arm round her body, with my finger I got to her clitoris, which sprang out into considerable proportions. My big prick and the frigging of her clitoris produced their natural result. In spite of herself she grew full of lust. I felt her cunt pressures, and knew how her passions were rising. Speedily, in place of resisting, she began to cry, "Oh, oh," and breathe hard, and then most gloriously wriggled her splendid arse, and as I spent she too was taken in the delicious ecstasy of the final crisis. She lay throbbing on my delighted prick until it stood as stiff as before. I began a slow movement, she made no resistance, except crying out, "Oh! dear, oh! dear," as if in spite of regrets, she could not help enjoying it; indeed, at last she said-- + +"Oh! what a man you are, Mr. Roberts; it is very wrong of you to do this, but I cannot resist enjoying it myself. It is years since I did such a thing, but as you have done it, it makes me wish you should do it again. Let us change position." + +"Very well, but you must throw off this tiresome chemise, or I won't withdraw." + +As her lust was so excited, she made no objection, so withdrawing we stood up; she drew her shift over her head, and displayed a far more splendid form, with an exquisitely fair and dimpled skin, than I could have thought possible. + +"My dear Mrs. Nichols, what a fine perfect form you have got, let me embrace you in my arms." + +She was nothing loath, flattered by my praise. She laid hold of my cock with one hand, and closely clasped me with the other arm, while I threw an arm and hand round on her truly magnificent arse, and with my other hand pressed on a wonderful pair of bubbles as hard and firm as any maid of eighteen. Our mouths met in a loving kiss, our tongues exchanged endearments. She said-- + +"You have made me very wicked, let me have this enormous and dear fellow again." + +I said I must first gaze on all her beauties, especially on her gorgeous and enormous bottom. She turned herself round in every way, delighted to find that I so ardently admired her. + +She then lay down on her back, and spread wide her legs, and called to me to mount and put it in. + +"First I must kiss this beautiful cunt, and suck this superb clitoris." + +Her mount was covered with closely curled brown silky locks; her cunt was large with grand thick lips and well-haired sides. Her clitoris stood out quite three inches, red and stiff. I took it in my mouth, sucked it, and frigged her cunt with two fingers, which went in with the greatest ease, but were nipped tightly the moment the entrance was gained, and I frigged and sucked until she spent madly with absolute screams of delight. I continued to suck and excite her, which quickly made her cry out-- + +"Oh, darling boy, come and shove your glorious prick into my longing cunt." + +I sprang up and buried him until our two hairs were crushed between us. She held me tight for a minute without moving, then went off like a wild _Bacchante_, and uttered voluptuous bawdy expressions. + +"Shove your delicious prick further and harder. Oh, you are killing me with delight." + +She was a perfect mistress of the art, gave me exquisite pleasure, and, I may add, proved afterwards a woman of infinite variety, and became one of my most devoted admirers. Our intrigue continued for years, while her age, as is the case with good wine, only appeared to improve her. Her husband was not a bad fucker, but having only a small prick, had never stimulated her lust as my big splitter had done. + +We had on this first occasion three other good fucks, which she seemed to enjoy more and more. + +As I had previously fucked the girls pretty well, my prick at last refused to rise and perform. We had to stop fucking, but I gamahuched her once more after again posing her, and admiring her really wonderfully well made and well-preserved body. She had a good suck at my cock, without bringing him up again. + +At last we separated, but not before she made a promise that she would sleep with me that night, and a glorious night we had. I had the more difficult task of reconciling her to my having her nieces. I used to have them one night, and sleep with her the next. + +Ann, as I have said, was one of the lewdest and most lascivious women I had ever known. I had told them of the beauty of their aunt's whole person, and of her wonderful clitoris, and how she liked me to gamahuche it. This awakened the tribadic passions of Ann to gamahuche her aunt. + +I, at last, persuaded her to let Ann join us, and both were afterwards extremely glad I had done so, for both were thorough tribades, and lasciviously enjoyed each other, while being fucked by me in turns. Mrs. Nichols too, once she got used to arse-fucking, delighted in it, and we had the wildest orgies together. + +Meanwhile, my very dear friend MacCallum had returned to town. He lived in the outskirts, but had taken a small set of chambers at Lyon's Inn, a sitting-room and bedroom, where he had a complete library of bawdy books and pictures to excite to new efforts passions palled with excess. It was here I took my sisters, and every Sunday we four, stripped to the buff, indulged in every excess the wildest lust could prompt. + +At Christmas, uncle, aunt, the Dales, and Ellen all came to town, and taking the same rooms with others that uncle and Mrs. Dale and her son had formerly down in Norfolk Street, we had the most glorious orgies. + +I confessed that I had debauched my sisters during the weary months I had been left alone with them, and advised their initiation into our society. Uncle greedily snatched at the idea, so did aunt and Harry Dale, but his mother and Ellen rather discouraged it. However, the majority had it, and aunt went to the school, and took them away for the holidays. I had instructed them to keep up the idea of a late initiation by me, and how much they liked it when done, carefully avoiding the least reference to former freedoms. + +They afforded a very effective aid to the wild variety of our orgies. Uncle especially affected them, and was never tired of fucking, sucking or gamahuching their splendid charms. Aunt, whose lech was for fresh young women, was unbounded in her admiration and tribadic use of their bodies. + +I made a confident of Harry Dale about our re-unions at MacCallum's, and, with the latter's leave, introduced him to our orgies in the Inn. + +MacCallum took greatly to the fine tight arse of young Dale. He also wished to have Ellen introduced. I took occasion to break the matter to her, and in the end she made a delicious addition to those private orgies. In March Mrs. Benson, Mrs. Egerton, and husbands came up to town. + +I had written to the Benson, and got a note from her the moment she arrived. I called immediately, and finding her alone, her husband having gone to the city, was received with delight. After flying into each other's arms, nature was too fierce for any amorous preliminaries. A sofa received our ardent bodies, and before one could think, legs were opened, cunt invaded, and a most rapid fuck, too rapid for luxury, was run off. Then while recovering from our first delirium of pleasure, we had time for a few words of mutual praise and admiration of improvements in both; but it was not until I had fucked her four times, and made her spend at least twice as often, that we found time to enter into close converse upon past events. + +I had known by letter of the intrigue with the Count, Mrs. Egerton, and herself, and now heard, from her own mouth, more exciting details. She told me how Mrs. Egerton was eager to possess my unusually great prick, adding-- + +"By the way, she must be alone at this hour. Come along, we may have some fun to-day." + +I had not seen Mrs. Egerton for many years, in fact, for long before I had fucked Mrs. Benson. We went. Her reception was all I could wish. + +Mrs. Benson told us to lose no time, but to run off at least an introductory embrace when the field was so clear. Mrs. Egerton made no objection; the Benson acted mistress of the ceremonies, pulled out my prick and lifted the Egerton's petticoats, turning both sides to view, and making the Egerton handle and admire the nobleness of my prick, then telling her to kneel and present her fat arse to my lustful gaze, guided my longing prick into her really delicious cunt; and a most excellent fuck we had, which, as Mrs. Benson said, would put us at our ease in an interview she had planned for next day, in which the Count was to join us, and telling me I should have to show my mettle to rival the Count. + +We met next day at a quiet house in Percy Street, Tottenham Court Road. The ladies had gone to the Soho Bazaar, leaving their carriage in Soho Square, going out by another entrance in a back street, and driving up in a cab to us in Percy Street. + +At an evening call I had made, to be introduced to Mr. Egerton, I had met and been introduced to the Count. We had walked home as far as his apartments, in Berners Street, and arranged to meet in Percy Street, before the arrival of our beautiful and dear friends. Thus we were impatiently awaiting their coming when they arrived. + +It is needless to say no sooner had they entered, and the mere embrace and kiss of welcome been given, than they retired to another room, opening into the one where we 'were, to take off all encumbrances to the wildest lust, while we, too, disencumbered ourselves of all our clothes. We were quicker than they were, and the Count was in the act of handling and admiring the grandeur of my prick when the two beautiful creatures entered in nature's only robe, and well might we exclaim-- + +"Woman, when unadorned is adorned the most," for two more beautiful women or more perfectly lovely in shape could hardly be seen. Women, too, as voluptuous and lascivious in their passions as any of their sex could be, and it was now our delight to enjoy and satisfy their ardent lust by fucking them in every way, as well as for the first time giving them the joy of having two real pricks in them at once. The charming Benson, as my original initiator in love's mysteries, claimed my first embrace, the Count fucking Mrs. Egerton. We were so placed that each could see the other, and thus enjoy the excitement of the scene. The dear creatures spent thrice to our once. + +Then the Egerton claimed me while the Count refilled the cunt I had just quitted. + +Again we made them spend thrice to our once. They preferred these preliminary encounters to the more lascivious excesses we were about to enter upon as exciting and preparing their passions for more voluptuous embraces. + +Both the dear creatures loved a prick _in culo_ from time to time, but as yet they had not had the opportunity of having a prick in each aperture at once. + +The Egerton, to whom my prick was as yet a novelty, said she must have it in her cunt while the Count planted his lesser but very fine prick in her arse. + +The Count's prick was quite as long, or nearly so, as mine, and even thicker close to the roots, but tapered up to a small pointed knob, so that for the _enculage_ he had greater facility, than my huge-knobbed affair, whose head was as thick as any part of it. This difference of formation made the dear creatures both prefer my prick in front while the Count attacked them in the rear. They generally each got two, with me below and the Count above. But, although it was at first somewhat painful when my huge prick took the rearward side with the Count in front, they soon got accustomed to it, although invariably beginning, after our preliminary fucking, with the Count first _in culo_. + +The Egerton, as I said before, made her first trial of two pricks fucking her at once, by having me below her. I had laid down on my back, she straddled over me, the Benson claimed the place of conductress to the instruments of pleasure, and, first giving a suck to my prick, she guided it into the delicious cunt of her friend, who sank down upon my stiff-standing prick, deliciously impaling herself thereon, and went off in a voluptuous discharge on feeling its huge head engulphed to the utmost; she rose and fell upon it in an upright position, until she had spent a second time, and had brought up her passion to the wildest rage of lust, then falling into my longing arms, she called out to the Count to shove his prick at once into her arse. + +The Benson had, meanwhile, sucked and moistened the Count's fine prick, making him as eager as the Egerton to be into her beautiful arsehole. The Benson conducted it to the divine entrance of that rapture-giving receptacle, which he entered at first with little difficulty, but as the thickening of his prick by its further entrance began to stretch the tender folds between our two pricks, the Egerton cried out for a momentary pause, as it was producing the strange sensation that one prick alone produces in the earlier stage of sodomitic embraces. + +The Benson came to her aid by desiring the Count to withdraw about half the distance he had gained and having whipt up some warm soapsuds she well wetted his lower shaft and then he more easily recovered lost ground, and gained a complete lodgement within the tremendously stretched affair, for as I have said, the lower part of his shaft was thicker than I could grasp. + +The Egerton felt as if the two apertures were about to be torn into one, and cried out for a few minutes' cessation. + +We both lay still, beyond the involuntary throbbing of our pricks, pressed as they were against each other, for the at-all-times-thin membrane dividing cunt from arsehole was now stretched to the fineness of gold leaf, and to our sensations did not appear to exist at all. + +These double throbbings soon stirred up all the wild lubricity of the Egerton's nature, first showing itself in the responsive inward pressures of the delicate widely stretched folds of both receptacles, then increasing in fiery lust, she cried out for us to begin gently our first movements. We drew in and out in unison together, at first slowly, but the Egerton finding that we were producing the most excessive delight to her double-gorged receptacles, cried out-- + +"Oh! oh! It is heavenly; fuck faster, you angelic fuckers. I--Oh! faster, faster. Oh! oh! it is too much." + +She spent in such an agony of ecstasy as to faint clean away. + +We were not aware of this, not having ourselves spent as we had only paused to let her enjoy her most heavenly discharge to the utmost. Then, first with throbs, and then with in and outward movements, we soon recovered her from her trance of excessive joy. Her passions were more violently stirred than before. She wriggled her arse convulsively sideways, she raved in the grossest bawdy terms, and so excited us that we all three came to the final crisis in wild cries of the grossest lust, and died away in an agony of bliss, so overpowering that we lay, almost insensible, soaking in the sacred vases in which were compressed our well-satisfied pricks. Meanwhile the Benson, wildly excited by the scene enacted below her eyes, sought relief by kneeling beyond my head, for we always fucked on the floor with mattresses spread widely around; she then backed her splendid arse over my head, and brought her cunt to my mouth, and I had gamahuched her continuously until my own delicious spending annihilated all power of movement for the time being. + +The Egerton, in the agony of her pleasure at the moment of the last spend, had fastened her teeth on the glorious arse of the Benson before her, and bit so hard as actually to draw blood and make the Benson spring forward with a sudden start and cry. But we were all too lost in the ecstatic joys to even hear the cry of pain she uttered. + +At last the Egerton gave signs of returning life. The Benson had risen and was eager for her turn, but Mrs. Egerton implored that she might have once again a taste of these more than heavenly joys while both pricks were still engulfed within her and thus avoid the pain of entrance. + +This was so reasonable that the Benson yielded with a good grace. + +The Count, to indemnify her, begged her to stride over our two bodies, so as to bring her delicious cunt to his mouth, which, as he was kneeling, was just at the proper level; so he gamahuched, and embracing her splendid arse, postillioned her at the same time; thus we were a chain of delight. + +This bout was drawn out to great length. + +The Egerton must have spent half-a-dozen times, and when we both at last jammed our pricks up in the ferocity of lust, making all three give down life's essence in an almost killing ecstasy, she really fainted quite away, and so alarmed us that we withdrew to use such remedies as were at hand to bring her to; even then she was quite hysterical. We laid her in the bed; she was relieved by a copious flood of tears, which she assured us were those of joy at the exquisite and overpowering delights we had conferred upon her. She begged us now to gratify the Benson with the same ecstatic joys we had bestowed upon her, and she would be a quiet, and delighted spectator of our doings. + +It was now my own loved Mrs. Benson's turn to experience the inexpressible delights of the double junction. From her love of my splendid splitter, of which she had taken the first sweets, and which had been initiated in her deliciously adulterous cunt into the divine mysteries of love, and the still more sacred and secret joys of the second altar dedicated to the worship of Priapean unutterably sensual raptures; from this circumstance and the constant use of the rear receptacle practised by her husband, whose prick was a very fine one, the initiation into the _double jouissance_ was less nervously effected than with the less used arsehole of the more delicate Egerton, but at the same time two such pricks operating at once made her wince a little before we were fairly engulphed to the cods, the banging together of which in their close proximity added greatly to the stimulating of our lust. + +The sweet Benson lent herself most readily to the work, and seconded us by her art in wriggling her arse and the delicious cunt and sphincter pressures; enjoying herself at once and more rapidly than the Egerton, she got four delicious discharges before our somewhat more sluggish senses would allow us to come to the grand final crisis, which seemed to stimulate the divine Benson to a point of raving lust, which showed itself in cries of the grossest bawdy; shouting to us to shove our pricks in further and faster, calling us all the loudest blackguard names she could put her tongue to--absolutely roaring as the final discharge seized her in the very same instant that we poured floods of sperm into both interiors, she then sank, annihilated by the excess of the voluptuous delights conferred upon her, but lay throbbing and pulsating in all the after-joys of the utmost venereal satisfaction. We lay long in this delicious inanition of such voluptuous excesses. + +The darling Benson exercised her delicious "nippers" in both orifices, which soon had their expected effect, and shortly the flesh gave symptoms of its "resurrection" to mundane joys, after having passed through the heavenly delights of Paradise, truly rising from the most delicious graves in which they were lying so exquisitely buried. Like her lovely predecessor she was eager for more, and if it were possible our second course was superior to the first, at all events it was longer drawn out, for the previous draughts on our slackening appendages made the further delivery an effort requiring longer pumping, and thus swelled the amount of pleasure by lengthening the process before arriving at the grand final crisis. + +The Benson, much more ungovernable in her passion than we were, must have spent six or seven times in our last effort, and died away in, if anything, greater abandon than in our first course, and eventually sank completely overcome by the entire satisfaction of her raging lust for the time being. We, too, both wanted a respite, so we all rose. + +The two dear creatures when once on their legs found instant necessity to evacuate their rear receptacles of the double cargo taken in, and disappeared for a few minutes. + +We all purified ourselves and well laved everything with ice cold water to reanimate them the sooner. We then sat down to a stimulating refreshment, in which we at least all drank a bottle of Champagne apiece, in the midst of delightful and exciting bawdy wit and obscene stories, in which our darling _fouteuses_ showed a witty proficiency. + +In half an hour we began to take up our positions. It was my turn to take them in the rear, but both begged off for that day. The pause for refreshment had given time to make them feel sore after the great stretching they had undergone for the first time, so my turn was delayed for three days, that being the usual delay in their orgies to prevent suspicion by too frequent absences, but not excluding any opportunity that might occur for a rack-off in the mean time. So we only each fucked them once and closed our exquisite orgy for that day; parting with every expression of fully satisfied desires, and the warmest kisses and embraces. + +The Count and I walked to his apartments to refresh ourselves there with hot tumblers of toddy; whiskey being a great favourite of his, and, in his opinion, the best restorative after our exhausting efforts with the two insatiable creatures. + +He congratulated himself on my accession to these orgies, as being a great relief to the burden he had had in satisfying both in both ways when all alone with them. + +However, the Count was an indefatigable and an unwearied fucker, but two such insatiable cunts often had tried his powers to the utmost, and was more than he liked to do at the interview, so he had found whiskey toddy a remedy at once efficacious and agreeable. I myself with my private excesses at home was glad to know so pleasant a restorative. The Count and I became the most intimate and attached friends; through him I perfected myself in Italian, and not many years after this, passed some happy months with him in Italy after he had been amnestied, returned to his country and recovered part of his once large property, but of that hereafter. + +I called next day on my adored Benson, who had developed into a glorious woman, more lovely and lustful than ever. + +We had but a moment to ourselves, and could not use it for amatory purposes but as we both had much to relate we agreed to meet at our house in Percy Street the next day. + +This house was taken furnished for love purposes only, and merely an old woman was kept to take care of and arrange matters when we were gone; it was held in the Count's name but paid for by the two fair users of it. They had latch keys each, and the place was kept ready for everyday use. + +The dear libidinous Benson avowed that she used it for other lovers unknown to the Count or the Egerton; paying the old woman liberally, she had all her own way. + +We met there the next day, rushing into each other's arms, and then assisting in the undressing we had three exquisite fucks, during which the delighted Benson spent seven times, and then we could have a long and uninterrupted talk over old times, and my after-doings. I told her all, and how the Vincent, my elder sister, Miss Frankland, my aunt, and Mrs. Dale had all thought me an innocent, receiving his first lesson in their delicious cunts, and how true and wise had been her sage counsels. She listened in wonder and delight, drew from me descriptive pictures of our conjunctions and thrice interrupted my narrative to have a delicious fuck to calm the excitement raised by the lascivious descriptions of my acts with all those most glorious women. I told her also of my intrigue at my lodgings with the two sisters and the Count. + +My description of the latter set her off in raging lust, and produced another most excellent fuck. But afterwards she told me I must find other quarters in some place where Mrs. Egerton and she, or either of them, could call and receive comfort without observation. + +I told her I was inscribed for chambers in the Inner Temple, which I had reason to believe I should get in a week or two. This much pleased her, and it will be seen that I succeeded in getting just such a set as exactly suited the great object in view, approachable without being under the observation of others; commodious and agreeable, where all that the dear Benson wished to be added to our set were brought together, and the wildest orgies of the most insatiable lust were carried on. + +My description of my aunt, of Mrs. Dale, and especially of Miss Frankland, now Mrs. Nixon, excited all the tribadic passions for which the dear Benson was so famous. + +Her clitoris, which was formerly prominent, was more so now, and she dearly loved to gamahuche her own sex. In that way she took a great fancy to my sisters, especially Eliza, who had all the same instincts very decidedly pronounced. So we had the prospect of the most consummate orgies in 'near view, and most gloriously in the end we realised our wildest expectations. + +In men we were more restricted; the Count would only consent to have Harry Dale and my uncle in any orgy of which he formed part. He was nervously timid about his sodomistic tendencies being known to many, and only yielded on account of the relationship and the closer ties of Harry Dale and myself, who eventually shared my chambers, and we lived together, so that perforce he was obliged to put up with his presence. + +He soon came to delight in having Harry's prick in his bottom when fucking others at our orgies. It will thus be seen that the Count's timid exclusiveness shut out from these family orgies my dear and esteemed friend and master MacCallum More. However, in a certain sense, it was an advantage, as we had at least the pick of the young ones, in my two sisters and Ellen, who wanted very little persuasion to join our Lyon's Inn orgies. And our excellent friend had some of his own set, both male and female, to meet us either with one, two or all, for we could not always manage to have the whole of the dear creatures together. En revanche, dear MacCallum had several youthful ganymedes, whose tight young bottom-holes were a great solace when cunts were altogether absent. + +We thus had two distinct and separate sets of orgies, which had all the natural effect of novelty, and by exciting comparison, making us turn from one to the other with renewed passions and power of enjoyment. + +As my sisters could only come on Sundays, that was our exclusive day, and we made an entire day of it, but I, in the end, persuaded Ann to join our orgies with MacCallum, and she proved a first-rate addition in every way. + +I have already stated that she was of a most libidinous temperament, and developed into one of the most lascivious and lustful of women one could possibly find, and as she had rare beauties and splendour of form, she was made to raise the most raging lust in man or woman, for she, too, was as fond of tribadic indulgencies as my aunt or the delicious Frankland. Her position as a servant prevented our introducing her to Ellen or my sisters. As a matter of worldly prudency it was best not to trust her with the knowledge of their complying with all our lustful demands on their charming persons. + +The Count, myself, and our two charming lovers met on the appointed day to renew our delicious orgies. After both of us had fucked each dear creature came the _double jouissance_. + +We took the adorable Benson first, that the scene of our erotic sports might stir the lust of the darling Egerton to a greater heat. It was my turn to lay my offering on the secret altar of Priapus, while the Count filled her cunt with delight. + +As I have before said, the arsehole of the Benson was much more used that that of the Egerton, whose husband never dreamt of such a horror, as she would call it. Mr. Benson, on the contrary, delighted in it, and seldom passed a night without paying his devoirs to that delicious aperture. So, although it was but the second time she had indulged in the _double jouissance_, yet her lust enabled her to take in with greater ease my big prick in her arsehole, with the Count's fine prick in front, than when our parts were reversed. She revelled in the wild fury of raging lust, created by the glorious ecstasy of having a prick in each aperture--screamed with wild cries of heavenly joy, spent furiously, and eventually died away in an overpowering and indescribable felicity. She soon recovered her senses, and begged for another bout before withdrawing. Of course there was immediate compliance and another more soul-killing encounter was run off with the usual death-like termination. + +I had continuously gamahuched the Egerton who straddled over the two bodies below her, and brought her delicious cunt to my mouth, while my arms encircled her beautifully formed and cream-like coloured buttocks, at the same time acting postillion with two fingers to increase her lustful gratification. + +We purified ourselves after this, and drank some Champagne, then standing stiff at the prospect of now possessing the lovely body of the Egerton, we took up the same position as before, the Count under, in cunt, the Egerton above, with her deliciously fair arse exposed to my embraces first, and my big prick afterwards. + +The adored Benson gave it a suck first, and well wetting the knob, guided it to the narrow entrance of love's secret bower. Its head was soon housed, and although still creating strange feelings, the previous day's attack had made the entrance more facile. + +With little halting we drove on to the first delicious discharge. The second bout was all divine pleasure, and ever after the delicious Egerton enjoyed it completely. + +These delicious orgies with these two lovely women were indulged in on every third day. + +I became a favourite with both their husbands, thanks to a kind of sheepish innocence that I had the power of putting on. + +At the same time as my education had been well attended to and as I myself was fond of study, attentive to my college instruction, and anxious for a knowledge of foreign languages, I had become fairly proficient in German and Spanish, and well read in French and Italian. The latter was perfected by the Count's friendship, as we were much together and spoke nothing else. Perhaps it was this which led to a greater friendship for me on the part of Mr. Egerton, who was an excellent Italian scholar. His wife's intrigue with the Count had also perfected her, so that when we all four dined together Italian was the only language spoken among us. + +The dear Benson, too, was a perfect mistress of the Count's tongue, as well she might, having it so often in her mouth; and as it is a soft language that lends itself to love and lust, it became ours in all our orgies. + +The delicious Frankland, now Mrs. Nixon, returned to town with the spring. By that time I was established in my chambers in the Inner Temple, and had them simply furnished, but with every accessory for love's combats in couples, or in the wildest orgies. The adorable Benson inaugurated and dedicated them to the service of holy mother Venus and her son Cupid, as well as the more lustful Eros. + +The Egerton and the Count afterwards came to consecrate them to the worship of Priapus, and we had a most delicious orgy on that sacred celebration. + +It was on this occasion that those two wild lustful creatures insisted on seeing the Count and me in conjunction together. The Benson guided me into the Count's bottom, while he was in the bottom of the Egerton, and the Egerton conducted the Count into my bottom while I was luxuriating in the delicious arsehole of my adored Benson. It satisfied a longing desire on their parts to see man with man, and did not displease either the Count or myself, who, in our secret hearts, had each wished to possess the other. + +The Count was a powerful and very hairy man, and had an especially very full hairy arsehole, which to me was wildly exciting. + +In that I differed from my dear friend MacCallum, who loved bare-arsed youths with no hair there, telling me that coarse hairy arsed men rather disgusted him, and although in his wide sodomitic experience he had had such, it was with a certain repugnance that went against the grain. + +In that I differed from him entirely, the hairier and the coarser a man's arsehole was the more it excited me. In that respect the Count was exactly to my taste. He was very hairy all up the chink of his arse, and had a very coarse skin and an almost black arsehole, so deep a brown it was, the very sight of which always drove me mad with lust. + +He as much loved me from another cause. His great letch was to frig a fine prick while buggering the possessor, hence, as he had never met with so fine a one as mine, he was insatiably fond of being into me and frigging me at the same time. + +We thus had two points of private attraction, that made us become the closest of friends, but we did not let any of our dear female participants know of the mutual joys of which they were not participants. + +The superb Frankland, now my guardian's wife, also came alone to my chambers, and we had a renewal of all our wildest experiences. She told me it was such a comfort to her, for although her husband, Mr. Nixon, was very loving, and did all he could, still it was nothing but exciting her to long for others, especially for my own huge prick, of which she never knew but that she had been the first initiator of it into love's delicious recess in either sacred grove. + +So fresh and eager as she was for the fray you may easily imagine the wild excess we indulged in, sucking, gamahuching, fucking, and buggering. I cannot tell how often in every way her exciting and glorious body carried me away to an excess beyond anything I could have thought myself capable of. + +When fairly exhausted, and we could uninterruptedly talk over all that had occurred since I had left my mother's house, she heard in full detail, for the first time, all my adventures. + +I had given her, at the time of her marriage, a hint of how matters had gone, yet without any details, which now she was voracious to hear. I told her of my aunt's and uncle's apparent seduction of me, nor did I hide our goings-on with young Dale, and my after-possession of Ellen and his mother, who was the last to believe herself my seducer, for as I told the delicious Frankland (I can never bear to call her Nixon), I had followed her sage advice, and up to the Dale had played off the innocent game with perfect success; but now that I was a man I threw all that overboard. + +"Indeed," said she, "and who have you been throwing it overboard with." + +I laughed at her ready taking of me up, and then went on to a full confession of all my intrigues. + +She did not like my having taken up with the two servants, the nieces of my late landlady, thinking it derogatory in one endowed with a prick that any lady would be too glad to possess, but she was very much struck with my description of the superb body and wonderful lubricity of the Nichols. + +It excited her much, especially when I told her that she had given me the idea of her near approach in body and wantonness to herself. + +It will be seen hereafter to what a closer alliance with the Nichols this led. Pressing her enquiries, I acknowledged my intrigue with the Benson, Egerton, and Count. This evidently excited her lust, as I could see by the wild sparkle of her eye. It led to an immediate and delicious fuck, and when recovered from its ecstatic finish, to closer and more searching enquiry as to how I got into such intimacy, but I had expected this somewhat jealous scrutiny, and was quite prepared for it. I led her to believe they had been here nearly all the winter. I told her my mother had desired me to call and see the Ben-sons as friends of hers. I had done so. The Bensons quickly observed how largely I was furnished, very soon gave me encouragement, of which I did not want much after the late intercourse I had had with herself, aunt, and Mrs. Dale. + +Thus matters came quickly to their natural conclusion. She was perfectly astonished at my powerful weapon, and as she and her dearest friend already shared lovers, I was quickly introduced to her friend Mrs. Egerton, and they had me together, and let me into the secret of their intrigue with the Count, which was followed by my initiation into their orgies. + +My praises of these two ladies, and my saying how glorious it would be for her to make a fifth, and my description of the exquisite body and the tribadic tendencies of Mrs. Benson, fired her wild imagination, and woke up all her tribadic lusts, and it ended in her begging me to give a luncheon at my chambers to the Benson and the Egerton, that she might be introduced to them, more especially as they really moved in a society somewhat higher than Mr. Nixon's connections, although, in point of wealth, the Nixons were far superior. + +The little luncheon came off most agreeably. The ladies all took to each other most warmly; seeing which, I boldly broke the ice, and telling the Benson and Egerton that dear Mrs. Nixon was my first initiator in love's mysteries, and as had both of them, the wisest thing we could do would be to throw away all restraint and have a jollification all round. To set them at their ease--for there was a momentary hesitation--I pulled out my prick at full stand, and said-- + +"There's a prick worthy of all your exquisite cunts, and one, too, that has enjoyed them all, and been enjoyed by every one of you. So throw away all hesitation and let him enjoy you all again. Who is to have it first?" + +They laughed, and all approached and handled it, interchanging their opinions upon its being the very finest one that any of them had ever seen. + +"Ah, now," said I, "that is just the thing, you are at once put at ease, then let us do it with ease; strip is the word, and let us have it luxuriously." + +They laughed, kissed each other, and said the dear fellow must have his way, and all at once proceeded to undress. The glorious and wonderfully hairy body of the Frankland perfectly astonished them, and raised their tribadic passions to fever heat, especially the Benson, who threw herself on that glorious form in an ecstasy of delight, more especially as the Frankland's passions being excited, her long red clitoris stood out from the dense black mass of hair which covered not only her belly and mount, but all down and around her cunt. Nothing would satisfy the Benson but an immediate mutual gamahuche, for, with true tribadic instinct, these two beautiful and libidinous women divined their mutual letch for that particular lascivious inclination, and at once proceeded, one on the top of the other, to wildly gamahuche each other. The Egerton and myself seized the opportunity of having a delicious fuck together, which we brought to a conclusion before the others had satisfied their immediate desires. + +The Frankland, who at first was under, was now above, and as she knelt and pushed out her stupendous arse to bring her cunt over the Benson's mouth, the sight of its hairy arsehole roused my desire to fuck it, and my cock responded instantly, so kneeling behind her, I introduced it to the well-known receptacle, and to her infinite additional delight, sodomised her to perfection. This was another means of putting them all at ease, and I fucked and buggered them all until neither handling nor suction could get my prick to raise his head again. + +You may easily imagine after this how delighted they were to make the glorious Frankland a participator in our orgies with the Count. Nor shall I forget the wild gaze of surprise and lust when the Count first beheld the splendid and hairy form of the glorious Frankland when she entered the room in all the dazzling splendour of her perfect nakedness. These two natures were made for each other, both salacious to a degree, both vigorous in body and untiring in the most libidinous excesses of the wildest lust. Both hairy to a degree, showing the meaning of that vast display all over both their bodies. They were instantly attracted to each other, flew into the closest of embraces, and sinking on the floor where they met, two strokes were racked off before they came to a state of more moderation, amenable to our general operations. It had been all the same an exciting scene to us. + +The Benson was madly stimulated by the sight of the Frankland's superb body; her long red clitoris, not satisfied with the double rack-off with the Count, appeared only to be more excited, and stirred the whole soul of the adorable Benson. She threw herself in reverse upon the Frankland before she had time to raise herself, seized with her mouth the wonderful clitoris, called upon me to fuck her from behind, and then with fingers up arsehole and cunt worked furiously. The dear Frankland responded on the fine clitoris of the Benson, and postillioned me at the same time. We ran off two bouts in this delicious position, and then with more regulated passions rose to form more general combinations. + +The Count had fucked the Egerton while we were engaged above the divine Frankland. Our first pose was suggested by the Egerton, who had been as yet less fucked than any. She had been also greatly taken with the glories of the Frankland's superb body, and especially struck with her extraordinary clitoris, and had taken the curious letch of wishing to have it in her bottom-hole while riding St. George on my big prick. We all laughed at her odd choice, but agreed at once, especially the Frankland, whose greatest letch was to fuck very fair young women with her long and capable clitoris. A fairer creature than the lovely Egerton could not be found. The Frankland admitted that in her inmost heart she had longed thus to have the Egerton from the moment she had first seen her, and her delight and surprise at finding the dear Egerton had equally desired to possess her, fired her fierce lust with increased desire. I lay down, the Egerton straddled over, and feeling the delight of my huge prick when completely imbedded, she spent profusely with only two rebounds. Then sinking on my belly she presented her lovely arse to the lascivious embraces of the salacious Frankland, whose first act was to stoop, embrace, kiss, and tongue the beautiful little pinky aperture, wetting it with her saliva, she brought her fine long clitoris, stiff as a prick, and plunged within. The letch that both had taken for the same indulgence lent enchantment to the act, and their wild imaginations created an excess of joy that the smaller size of the Frank-land's clitoris, in comparison with the dimensions of our longer pricks, might not have led one to suppose possible. + +Twice we indulged in this excess, the women going off half a dozen times to my once. + +I had aided the Frankland by using a double dildo, which at once filled both apertures. This excellent instrument was an invention of the Frankland, which she had suggested to a Parisian dildo maker, and had had it made in two or three sizes. It became very useful in our orgies, as from disparity of numbers an odd couple were left out, when the _double jouissance_ was in operation, and then the two outsiders, with tongues and dildoes, could gamahuche with great satisfaction. + +During our tribadic junction, with the Egerton fucked by the Frankland in the arse, the Count had first fucked and then sodomised the Benson to their mutual satisfaction. We all rose, purified, and refreshed with wine and biscuits, while discussing what our next move should be. The Count had not yet had the Frankland _in culo_, and suggested, as it was her introductory meeting, that the greater honours should be conferred on her on this happy occasion, so I was to fuck her while he enjoyed her in the rear quarters. The Egerton and the Benson should use double dildoes to each other, or in any other way amuse themselves. + +This was a most exquisite encounter, and with such unutterable enjoyment that we hardly paused between the first and second, and it was not until we had deluged thrice both interiors that we withdrew. The delighted Frankland had never ceased spending, but so vigorous a nature could easily have taken twice as much; but the other dear creatures had now to be conciliated. + +The Count next took the Benson in cunt while I blocked the rear aperture, and the Frankland once more enculed the Egerton, who dildoed herself in cunt at the same time; all of us running two courses. We then rose, purified, and refreshed. When our pricks were ready it was the Egerton who took me in front and the Count behind, and the Benson, who had grown lewd on the Frankland's clitoris, was sodomised by her and dildoed by herself. The Egerton still suffered a little in the double stretching, so that we ran but one exquisite bout, enabling us, whose powers began to fail to be re-excited, to finish with the _double jouissance_ in the glorious body of the Frankland. + +We carried this on until the midsummer holidays, when at their desire I introduced the Benson, Egerton, Frankland, and the Count to my uncle, aunt, Mrs. Dale, Ellen, and Harry, and we had some glorious orgies in my chambers. + +The splendour of my aunt's arse captivated the Frankland and the Count. The latter soon got into young Dale's arse, which he did one day when arriving for the very purpose half an hour before the appointed time of all meeting. I was present, and was so excited at the sight that I seized upon the Count's arse and delightedly astonished him by giving the double enjoyment. + +It was after this, as Harry remained to live with me, that he was introduced to our general orgies, and thus we occupied all the dear creatures at once, and most voluptuous and lascivious meetings we all enjoyed, the Count occasionally giving us a private visit. + +Meanwhile Ellen had been put to the same finishing school where my sisters already were, with permission to go out with them on the Sundays, when we always had a delicious orgy at our dear friend MacCallum's. He, like the Count, had taken a peculiar fancy for the tight young arsehole of Harry Dale, without altogether deserting the women, especially my sister Eliza, whose delight in rear sports was supreme, and she never would be fucked but when she had a prick in each aperture, preferring mine in her cunt with either Dale or MacCallum operating in the rear. + +Knowing the hours when I could not be interrupted by any of my lady friends, I did not neglect the superb Nichols, but had her and Ann to come together for an hour and a half, from half-past nine to eleven a.m., and most delicious fucking I had with both. I had equally initiated them into the mysteries of rear delights, and both took it with great gusto. Upon finding this I gradually descanted on the exquisite delights of the _double jouissance_ with two male pricks, filling with ecstasies indescribable the two apertures at once. + +When once I had excited their desires on this point, I mentioned my dear friend MacCallum More, as one in whom we could all confide, and with some little hesitation obtained their consent to introduce him. I had already mentioned the matter to him; told him he might think the Nichols too old, but she was gloriously superb in body, and so extraordinarily well preserved that her body was twenty years younger than her face and her lust and fucking powers were far superior to a woman of twenty-five. Besides, I hinted that he might persuade Ann, and perhaps her sister Jane, to join our Lyon's Inn revels. + +We met by appointment on a given morning. I advised MacCallum to come sooner, and when the women came, under the pretence of his not being able to join us that morning, I would get them stript, and when all was ready he should appear in buff, and so break any _mauvaise honte_ they might have at first undressing before him. + +He was wonderfully struck with the superb body of the Nichols, and, as the stranger, we gave him his choice. He clasped her in his nervous arms, devoured her with kisses, and incontinently laying her down on the mattressed floor, proceeded to fuck her in the good old English fashion, with legs and arms around her body. Ann and I gazed for a little on the splendid action of her aunt's arse, and the evident way in which she milked the teat as it withdrew each time he heaved his arse to re-enter with exciting vigour. We could hold no longer and each ran a course of ecstatic delight ending in all the frenzy of lust to die inanimate the next instant. + +Our charming partners had spent repeatedly during our encounter. They wanted an immediate renewal, but MacCallum suggested a change of partners and of position, that is to say, fucking them on their knees with their splendidly developed buttocks turned up but taking them in the cunt. + +This change was rapidly effected. We placed ourselves in such a position that each could see all the action of the other. It was a splendid fuck, and as our edge was taken off we drew it out a considerable length, giving the dear recipients the opportunity of spending four or five times to our once. + +After recovering from the soaking after-joys of this delicious encounter, we had some champagne and some smutty talk, as well as outspoken praise of their splendid power of fuck; feeling their cunts and they our pricks, till renovated and renewed, we arranged for further action. As it was their introductory lesson in the double enjoyment, the splendid Nichols had, of course, first choice. She chose me for cunt, and to his intense delight, our dear friend for the rear attack. Ann was to straddle over her aunt and me, and be gamahuched both in cunt and arsehole by our friend. We had no difficulty in hilting ourselves to the cods in both apertures, but so excited was the Nichols that with the mere throbbings of our pricks on completely housing ourselves, she spent, squealing like a rabbit. We gave her time to fully enjoy it, and then commenced a slow, regulated movement, which quickly drove the Nichols into a state of furiously raving lust, and again she spent in an almost killing agony of delight, screaming with excess of ecstasy. Again we paused to allow of the utmost enjoyment, but renewed when her delicious cunt and arse pressures announced a return of craving appetite. These pauses enabled us to bring on seven overpouring discharges on her part, until she was quite exhausted, especially when we both came together in an excess of joy that ended in perfect inanition, on recovering from which we relieved the Nichols of the double cargo within her. + +She had already almost strangled me with her embraces in the unutterable joys I had procured her. Rolling off on her side she drew MacCallum also to her, to embrace him for the intense gratification he had afforded her. We again refreshed the inward man after a purification and laving with cold water, as a restorative. Then Ann took up her position in her turn, for she, too, wished to try the novel experiment with the smaller prick in her arsehole. + +The Nichols felt exhausted for the moment, so lay on the sofa and enjoyed the sight of our three persons in all the delirium of raging lust and sodomy. The experiment enchanted Ann as it had overpoweringly enchanted her aunt. She, too, spent seven or eight times before joining us in our soul-killing discharge. The Nichols had laid still for about two thirds of the time this bout continued, she then rose to straddle across Ann and me, and was about to present her magnificently large cunt to be gamahuched by MacCallum, but he begged her to turn her bottom to him and heave it well up, while resting her hands on Ann's shoulders. He then could first contemplate and handle her huge superb buttocks, then transferring his hands to her clitoris and cunt, he licked and tongued the grand aperture of her arse--rough, brown, and corrugated, just my taste. + +We had a most glorious bout, ending in all the ecstatic joys of spending and after-delights. Ann was as greatly gratified with the _double jouissance_ as her aunt had been before. We again laved and refreshed, and closed this most delicious orgy with MacCallum first in the Nichols' cunt, with my big and doted-on prick in her arse, which, now she was used to it, pleased her more than ever. + +In the same order we double-fucked Ann, although she expressed her greater gratification of MacCallum in her arse and my splitter in her cunt. Again we gamahuched them both, as time would not allow of our resurrection, then they left us. + +My guardian, at his marriage, had bought a house in Portland Place, but the lease of its then tenant only expired on the 20th March this spring, and before being occupied it had to be entirely new painted and decorated, so that July was nearly at an end before they could comfortably take up their residence in it. Meanwhile they had apartments at a hotel near Hyde Park corner. + +When once they were completely housed, which was not the case until the middle of August, my guardian desired his wife to send the carriage for the girls every Sunday morning. Hearing that Ellen was their intimate friend, she became included in the invitation. This put an end to our Sunday orgies in our friend MacCallum's chambers, much to our mutual regret. + +As far as Harry and I were concerned the ever thoughtful and delicious Frankland came to our aid. Pretending that the girls must need walking exercise, she always after luncheon proposed they should walk down to their brother's chambers in the Temple, take him and Harry as their further companions up to Kensington Gardens or the "Zoo," and bring all back to dinner. + +As my guardian always took a siesta on Sundays after luncheon, for being too old to fuck his wife every night, Saturday night, or rather Sunday morning, when he had nothing in the way of business to trouble him, was dedicated to two or three hours of extra dalliance with his adored wife. She told me he was very amorous upon her, could not do much fucking, indeed, she thought his efforts that way were even more than he ought to do at his age, but he was never tired of gamahuching her and posing her in every attitude when stark naked; of course she lent herself to every wish of the old man, and had, even after great persuasion, which only her love and attachment to him could have even made her consent, allowed him the honours of her beautiful arse-hole. This requiring, as he said, an extra firmness of prick, she further did him the extra favour of toying and sucking his prick up to the utmost stiffness. So she had made him absolutely adore her, and she could turn him round her little finger. Her word and will was law, so she could do as she liked. + +She told me on several occasions that she thought he was exerting his erotic powers to too great an extent, and that she did all she could to moderate his excitement, but all to no purpose; he was infatuated with the glorious charms of her body, or what is called cunt-struck, perhaps the strongest passion that can seize on man and dangerous for a man of advanced years. Well, his Sunday afternoon's siesta was long, and left the Frankland at liberty to come to my rooms with my sisters, where strip was the word, and fucking in every variety followed. + +I soon found we must have other help; the pace I was going at was beginning to tell, so with the consent of the darling Frankland I made a confidant of the Count, and asked him to join our Sunday's orgy. You may imagine with what joy he accepted, for apart from his delight in seeing me in incestuous connection with my sisters, their young charms, especially Eliza's, had great attraction for him, and then the Frankland, so similar in lust and temperament. We had thus most delicious orgies every Sunday afternoon, until the end of October of the following year, when my sisters had finished their schooling, and I, too, had left college, entered at the Middle Temple, and had been for three months in a conveyancer's office, reading up previous to being called to the bar. + +It was then that Mr. Nixon's health gave symptoms of serious disturbance, and his doctor recommended him to pass the winter in a warmer climate. His wife suggested the advantage travelling would be both to the girls and myself; she had only to express the wish to have us all together, and we were warmly invited to join them. + +We passed through Switzerland, Milan, and Florence to Rome, where we took up our residence for four months. + +The Egertons and Bensons happily spent the same winter at Rome. + +My rooms were in an adjoining palace to where Mr. and Mrs. Nixon and my sisters resided, there not being accommodation for me. I thus had a charming entresol of five rooms all to myself; one of which looked on and over the Tiber, and was in no way overlooked. To this room we constantly resorted for orgies. + +The Egertons had passed some winters in Rome, and she had two or three clerical lovers, and these had introduced two others to the Benson on her former visits, and all had been accustomed to general orgies. You may imagine the delight of these priestly debauchees when they found themselves introduced to our circle of three fresh cunts, and such splendid ones, and all without any mock-modest prejudices but up to every excess of lubricity. So to five women we thus had six men, and eventually a very handsome young priest, debauched by the others, joined our party, and we carried on the wildest and most extravagant orgies of every excess the most raging lust could devise. We made chains of pricks in arseholes, the women between with dildoes strapped round their waist, and shoved into the arsehole of the man before them, while his prick was into the arsehole of the woman in his front. + +These holy fathers had immense resources in the way of infinite variety, stimulating to excesses of debauchery that very soon brought the rod into requisition. + +We all from time to time enjoyed the double coition, the women invariably so at every meeting. + +These holy fathers had all very fine pricks, but none so large as mine, and many of them loved to have my prick in their arses when opportunity offered. In such delights the winter passed rapidly away. + +In the spring Mr. Nixon's health seemed very precarious, and we moved to Naples, where from necessity our extreme indulgence in venereal excesses was much curtailed. + +In May we returned to England, but poor Mr. Nixon was evidently fucked out. The Frankland told me that the more his health failed the more lewd he seemed to grow. His passion for gamahuching her cunt had increased, and even his prick seemed to gather new life as life ebbed away, for hardly a night passed without his fucking her, at night in the cunt, and at morning, in full daylight, kneeling and feeling her splendid arse, he took her in the rear aperture. He and she too felt it was killing him, but his infatuation was overpowering, and he declared if it did kill him he could not die a happier death. In fact a month after we returned he had an apoplectic fit actually when his prick was spending in her arsehole. He lived but a month afterwards. He left all his property to his wife absolutely, with legacies of £2,500 to each of my sisters, and £1,000 to me. + +This sad event cast a gloom for some time over all our pleasures. + +The Frankland took my sisters to reside with her, but all went down to spend the first three months of mourning quietly with my mother. She, too, took ill when we were with her, and died before the three months were up. This drew me down to home, now mine, and the dear Frankland continued to stay with us for two months longer, and then left for London. We three orphans remained for all that winter in our old home, settling a variety of things. + +My sisters now with their succession to some £600 apiece, the £1,000 left them by our uncle, and the £2,500 by Mr. Nixon, and the £400 which I promised them as a marriage present, and with their great beauty of form and face, for both had grown into remarkably fine young women, became very eligible matches. + +Many country families sought us out after the first three months of our mourning, and several offers were made to the girls. They were both somewhat fastidious after the life they had led, but eventually both were married. Mary to a very nice fellow, who proved, as she told me, a first-rate fucker. He got her with child, and they had a son, a fine boy, in the tenth month of their marriage. She was very happy, now and then coming to see me, and getting a jolly good fuck from my renovated prick, for now that he was lying fallow, my somewhat exhausted system was getting quite recruited. + +Alas! poor Mary lost her husband by cholera in the second year of their marriage. He had a handsome estate, and left her well off, and sole guardian to his son, who grew up a very fine fellow, and when at puberty became the solace of his widowed mother, who had initiated him into all love's mysteries. + +Eliza was not quite so fortunate as her sister in her husband; he was a good sort of man who, one would have thought, would just have suited the hot temperament of Eliza, well and powerfully built, and with an air of being a man of erotic passions; but he turned out to be of a languid unimpassioned nature, who could not imagine any other manner than simply mounting on a woman's belly and fucking her once a night, and with no conception of using either preliminaries or aids to her passions. So that he left poor Eliza only in a state of excitement instead of giving any satisfaction to her lascivious nature. She did, eventually, work him up to good night and good morning, but for her full satisfaction she used too seek elsewhere, and even to content herself with the embraces of a man servant, who, if not good looking, proved to have a splendid and powerful prick, and nearly daily gave her comfort. She also occasionally came to me, when she had both apertures well exercised, and left me much comforted. + +She never had any children, and so managed her intrigues as never to be found out. + +I returned to London in the spring, and was called to the bar. + +I went the western circuit for odd assizes, and then abandoned the bar as a profession. + +Harry Dale, with more perseverance, as well as greater necessity for exertion, continued in the profession, was duly called to the bar, and eventually became a rising and successful barrister, and at this period of our old age is now a distinguished judge. + +But to return to our earlier days. + +Harry and I carried on our intrigue with the Nichols and Ann, aided by our dear friend MacCallum. Also from time to time with the Benson, Egerton, and Count, to which generally the darling Frankland brought her exquisite charms to intoxicate us with pleasure. + +This delightful reunion was sadly affected by the loss of the Count, who received an amnesty--I think I before have said he was a political exile--returned to his own country, and we never again had his delightful aid in our sadly shortened orgies. + +The Count and I met in a future year at his old castle on the hills of Pied, of which I shall have much more to say on a later occasion. + +It was a sad loss, especially for the Egerton, who dearly loved the Count. He had been her first lover, indeed, her initiator in the real mysteries of Venus. It will be remembered that her husband was one of those old insensible natures that think it is only necessary to hastily "piss their tallow," as Falstaff says, as quickly as they can, and leave a poor woman just sufficiently excited to be madly anxious for a thorough good fucking. It is these insensate cold-blooded husbands who raise, without satisfying, their wife's erotic passions, and drive them perforce to seek salacious comfort in other arms. + +Oh! how many women if only fucked with some regard to their own naturally lewd feeling, would have never committed adultery or made a scandal. Many are the women who have told me, with tears in their eyes, of the cold insensible conduct of their husbands, who, never fucking them but when their sluggish natures felt the want, then turning upon them without the slightest preparatory handling or embracing, mount, shove it in, give a few in-and-out movements, spend, and then withdraw, just as they have done enough to excite their poor wives' passions without satisfying them, and thus leaving them a prey to inordinate longing that forces them to seek the relief to their passions the selfish brutes of husbands had only raised without allaying. + +I remember an intrigue I had with an Italian Countess. Her husband, a tall and very capable man, was an extreme bigot, who thought it deadly sin to indulge in any caresses or carnal excitement, or even for his wife to expose any naked flesh to raise concupiscent ideas, so she had to have her nightgown closed up to her throat, with long sleeves and skirts, in the centre a slit through which he performed his duty when in want of relief to himself. He never kissed or embraced her body at any time, but lay like a log by her side, with his back turned to her. When his own passions prompted him to fuck, which was very seldom, he was naturally quite ready and rapidly finished his coup. He used to turn to her, waken her up with a shake, cry out, "Marietta, porgemi il vaso generative" (Marietta, reach me the generative vase), upon which she stretched herself on her back, he got on her without lifting her petticoats or feeling her cunt, but opening the slit, pointed his prick to her cunt, thrust it up to the hilt, and being himself in want of spermatic relief, in a very few strokes spent, just staying in long enough to "piss all his tallow," and then withdraw, turning his back again to sleep, leaving his wife just sufficiently excited to have enjoyed it, and thus left her madly longing for the satisfaction he did not afford. She said he was quite capable, too, of giving satisfaction if his bigotry had allowed him. We used to fuck at a tremendous rate, and I always commenced with a "Marietta, Marietta, porgemi il vaso generative," and then proceeded to fuck and laugh like mad. + +Of course, irritated as her hot passions were by her booby of a husband, she resorted, not only to me, but to whomsoever she could get to satisfy the cravings of her irritated cunt. + +The Bensons and Egertons again left in the autumn for Rome. + +The Frankland, not yet out of her year's widowhood, did not go much into society, and we saw much more of her than before. She came at least three times a week to my chambers, when Harry and I gave her the comfort she so much required; first each fucking her singly twice over, and then three double-pleasure fucks, with change about in the apertures: finishing off with a mouth fuck from one or the other, and a double gamahuche. + +About once a week the amorous and delicious-fucking Nichols with Ann would come of a morning, when we managed to send both away satisfied for the day. + +When winter drove our friend MacCallum home from his fishing, we renewed some excellent orgies at his chambers, where Ann, and afterwards Jane, occasionally came. By the way, Jane's arse had developed in an extraordinary manner, and became one of the most exciting delights of our orgies at MacCallum's. He also now joined in our morning encounters with the Nichols and her niece. + +At Christmas time the Frankland, Harry, and I all went down by invitation to the Rectory, where uncle welcomed with great delight the glorious and exciting Frankland. Mrs. Dale and Ellen joined our party. Dear aunt positively devoured me with her caresses, and before I was shown up to my room, had drawn me into her little room downstairs, had a suck at my prick, leant her body on the table, stuck out her immense arse, and had me into her cunt for a rapid rack-off; but this only excited me to an immediate renewal, for the touch and sight of her splendid buttocks instantly produced a stiffness, she herself in the middle of my movements in front, drawing my prick out of her cunt and guiding it into the inviting entrance to the secret altar of Juno and of Venus Callipyge. Both courses were run off at a gallop, and were a momentary allaying of the insatiable salacity of my most lewd and lascivious aunt. She then next conducted the Frankland, I can never call her Nixon, into her bedroom, under pretence of showing her to it. She no sooner had her there than up went her petticoats, and aunt glued her lips to the wonderful clitoris of the divine Frankland, and using fingers up both apertures, made the Frankland quickly give down her first offering to the obscene god. + +As soon as aunt's tribadic rage to possess the Frankland was thus abated for the moment, she allowed Mrs. Nixon to remove bonnet and shawl, but then as quickly demanded and obtained a double gamahuche. The Frankland the more readily consenting as she knew aunt had taken the keen edge off my lecherous appetite, and she would revel in the thick raging sperm I had shot into both orifices. These preliminaries settled, we were able to be much more tranquil all the afternoon. + +The Dale and Ellen came to dinner; I slipt into their room when all were dressing for dinner, and had a delicious rack-off in both their lecherous and longing cunts. Uncle had equally enjoyed the tight favourite arsehole of Harry Dale, he having conducted him to the well-known summer house for that purpose as soon as we arrived. + +We could all thus peaceably enjoy the good things set before us, and during our wine after dinner exchange accounts of all events that had passed since last we met, and they were varied, for Mr. Nixon's death and legacies to my sisters and myself were subjects of congratulation, while the death of my mother was, on the contrary, one of condolence and sympathy. + +By ten o'clock we all broke up, but with the whispered request to all to repair to aunt's bedroom half an hour after the household had retired. We were all too interested in the delicious orgy there to take place to fail. Blazing fires in both that and the adjoining room had been kept up all the afternoon; plenty of lights were burning so as to illuminate all sides at once. We all met in mere night wrappers, and as soon as we were assembled and the word given "off," they were thrown aside, and we all stood in nature's lovely nakedness. Aunt, in her eager and lascivious inspirations, flung herself on my naked body, drew me to the bed, and had me into her longing and delicious cunt at once, and with legs and arms thrown round me, was instantly pressing furiously forward, notwithstanding the remonstrance of my uncle, who wished to arrange a general plan of operations so as to include all at once. Aunt's voluptuous eagerness produced a rapid discharge on her part. Seeing this, while she was in the momentary ecstasy of spending, he was enabled to drag me from her arms, fortunately before I had weakened my powers by spending for a fourth time that day. Aunt, too, was now in a condition to listen to reason, and bring her ideas of our after-combinations into play. + +As we had brought the Count with us for a week's stay, we were just four cocks to four hens; so we could couple in the first instance on an exact equality, it being necessary by previous good fucking to bring the women's passions up to a boiling heat of lust to make them enter into our greater excesses with all the wild energy of the most salacious lubricity. Aunt had taken a great fancy to the Count when up at midsummer. + +Uncle was most lecherous on the glorious Frankland. I took most readily to the luscious and lascivious Dale, who was equally eager to repossess the prick which she firmly believed she had initiated into all the joys of cunt, and a most delicious fuck we had, she spending furiously and frequently to my once. + +Harry was equally pleased to pair off with his loved cousin, whose maidenhead he had undoubtedly taken. + +The women would gladly have had each fucker run a second course without drawing. But both aunt and uncle opposed this, as both more exhausting and less variety. So aunt chose me, uncle took the exciting young cunt of Ellen, Harry turned on to his mother's cunt, from whence he had originally come into the world, and the Count got the glorious Frankland, of whom he was never tired. This course was more prolonged by the men than the first, with the object of somewhat allaying the insatiable lust of the women by making them spend infinitely oftener than their fuckers. + +We so managed matters that we all came together or nearly so, and the women followed suit at the last final crisis, which was ushered in with wild cries of lust, and then a sudden overpowering silence fell on all as they lay panting in all the after-joys that follow the ecstatic discharge of life's essence. + +We rose for a general embrace of our naked bodies, then a romp, and a mutual slapping of arses and seizing of pricks and cunts, a very exciting game, which soon brought evidences of renewed vigour in all except poor uncle, who required a longer pause and an extra excitement before he could indulge in a third encounter. + +The Count took the delicious arsehole of the Frankland, who begged for me as her fucker. Aunt got Mrs. Dale under for a double gamahuche, while Harry crammed his prick up aunt's arse. Uncle enjoyed a delicious gamahuche with Ellen, who sucked his limp prick all the time without any success. + +This was a delicious bout for us all, and ended in heavenly raptures. + +Our second double couplings were: myself in my aunt's cunt, which incest stimulated uncle to a stand, and he took to his wife's arse while her nephew incestuously fucked her cunt. The Count took to the delicious and most exciting tight cunt of the Dale, while her son shoved his prick into his mother's arse, to her unspeakable satisfaction. Ellen and the Frankland amused themselves with tribadic extravagances. + +This bout was long drawn out, and afforded inexpressible ecstasies to all concerned. And after the wild cries and most bawdy oaths that instantly preceded the final ecstasy, the dead silence and long after-enjoyments were drawn out to a greater length than before. After which we all rose and purified, and then took refreshment of wine and cake, while discussing our next arrangement of couples. + +Uncle had, fortunately for him, managed not to spend in the last bout; he, therefore, was still capable of entering an arsehole, and he chose the delicious arse of the Frankland to receive this final offering, for after that he was done for that night. I was below engulphed in the exquisite cunt of the Frankland. The Count fucked Ellen while Harry was into her behind. Aunt and Mrs. Dale mutually gamahuched and dildoed each other. This, too, was a long-drawn-out affair and ended in perfectly convulsive ecstasies and cries of the wildest sensuality that our most salacious passions could prompt. + +I then took my aunt's arse while the lecherous Dale was underneath gamahuching and dildoing her, and by putting the Dale close to the edge of the bed, the Count stood between her legs, which were thrown over his shoulders, and thus he fucked her, having taken a letch to fuck her cunt, which was an exquisite one for fucking: her power of nip being nearly equal to the Frankland, and only beaten by aunt's extraordinary power in that way. We thus formed a group of four enchained in love's wildest sports together. + +The Frankland was gamahuched by uncle while having Harry's prick in her arse, Ellen acting postillion to Harry's arse while frigging herself with a dildo. + +The closing bout of the night was the Count into aunt's arse, my prick into the Frankland's arse, Harry enjoying an old-fashioned fuck with his mother, and Ellen under aunt to dildo and be gamahuched and dildoed by aunt. We drew this bout out to an interminable length, and lay for nearly half an hour in the annihilation of the delicious after-joys. At last we rose, purified, and then restoring our exhausted frames with Champagne, embraced and sought well-earned sleep in our separate chambers. + +I slept the sleep of the just, and awoke late to find aunt sucking my stiff-standing prick at the very instant it was filling her mouth with a deluge of creamy spunk. She sucked up to the get all out, and in doing so brought him up to the scratch again, so jumping out of my low bed I made her kneel on it, stick out her enormous arse, and licked her reeking cunt until I could stand it no longer. Then bringing my huge prick I plunged in a single vigorous thrust up to the very top of her cunt, and made her squeal and spend with that alone. Pausing to let her enjoy it, I recommenced and ran a delicious course in that most exquisite cunt, and would have done so a second time, after a pause of ecstasy, if Harry Dale had not rushed into the room to say that all were impatiently awaiting me to sit down to breakfast. Aunt just stayed to give a final suck to my prick, and then vanished. + +I hastened to wash and dress, having sent Harry off to beg they would not wait for me. + +On joining them the sly jokes they cut at my apparent laziness proved that they knew of the cause of detention. I looked at dear aunt, and at once saw by the air of gratification on her dear plump face, that she herself had been boasting of her exploit, for it was all her own doing. + +Being Sunday, we all went decorously to church. The doctor gave us a very unctuous sermon on the goodness of virtue and chastity. It was a really fine sermon, and delivered with an unction that forbade the possibility of supposing that the preacher could be in reality the very reverse of his doctrine. It much pleased some of the country families, and one or two with their wives waited for the doctor leaving the church, to compliment him on his eloquence and admirable teaching. The flattered doctor ended by inviting two rather distant residents to luncheon at the Rectory, so that we formed a numerous party, all on our best behaviour. It was quite edifying to hear the pious and virtuous remarks of the admirable Frankland, and the no less virtuous and correct Dale. It gained them the entree into the exclusive set of both these high country families, and eventually led to an excellent marriage for the dear little Ellen. So much for the success of dissimulation. Vice playing the part of virtue, and succeeding to perfection. So goes the world. One thing is certain, that on this occasion it enforced chastity, in one sense at least, that we had no opportunity of practising vice that afternoon. The charming Frankland-Nixon made a great impression on the wives as well as husbands, to be sure it was well known that she was a very wealthy widow, and they may have had some design of securing her for a son, nephew, or at least having the chance at it. She thanked them with that grace and charming ease of manner which so distinguished her and made her so captivating, excusing herself from visiting, during the first year of her widowhood, anywhere but among family friends, and as her late husband was Charles Roberts's and his sisters' guardian, she considered his family as almost her own. They hoped to have the pleasure of seeing her some future day. + +The whole visit passed off very pleasantly, and left us only an hour for a stroll in the garden and time to dress for dinner. It will be recollected that the doctor was a great exacter of full evening dress at dinner, as tending to keep up proper appearances. + +We met at the accustomed hour at night in aunt's room, in the full dress of Adam and Eve before they munched the apple. + +This night was dedicated chiefly to sacrifices to Venus Apostrophia, for the doctor commenced by having the Count while he was fucking his wife, and when able to get his fine old cock in for another go, would only again have it in my arse, while I was doing the same to aunt's glorious immensity with the Count below fucking her. + +That was the end of poor uncle's powers for that night, but he gamahuched all the women at the finish of their encounters with us three men. We gave them all the _double jouissance_, while those unoccupied carried on their own little game with tongue or dildo. + +It was again a night of most exquisite enjoyment. + +The following and remaining nights of our visit brought into requisition the rod before uncle could get his dear old prick to stand, and myself tailed off on the next Sunday night, the last of our visit, so that uncle seeing what he called the laziness of my prick, seized the rod, and gave me as sound a flogging as ever he had done in my schoolboy days. The fact was that he had been longing to renew on my arse his letch for giving a really severe whipping. He had already by dint of the same punishment fucked the arses of the Count and the divine Frankland, and was now so excited anew that his prick stood as stiff as ever it did; and my red excoriated arse excited and renewed his very fine prick; but first I insisted upon moving to aunt's arse, who at the moment was having a last fuck from the Count, and this incestuous group closed our orgies on this occasion, for we left for town the next day. + +After breakfast in the morning I slipt into the Dale's room, and had a parting fuck both with her and Ellen. Harry came in while we were at work, Ellen under the Dale gamahuching her, and I above administering a rear adieu. Harry stopped us for a moment until he could withdraw Ellen and take her place, that he might have a parting fuck with his loved mother, who thus had the two pricks she most loved in the world into her together. We drew our pleasure out to the utmost length our lust would allow of and spent in the most ecstatic joy that poor human nature could support. + +Aunt had gone to the Count's bedroom at the very time we were meeting in Mrs. Dale's. Notwithstanding which, her insatiable cunt made her draw me into her sanctum downstairs for a final fuck at the last moment of our parting. + +Harry Dale staying behind to pass a week at home with his mother, the adorable Frankland, the Count and I returned to town together. On the journey up we agreed to dine at Very's in Regent Street, and have a comparatively quiet night all together at my chambers, which we did, luxuriating in having the glorious naked body of the delicious Frankland between us. After we had each bedewed both her front and rear orifices with our life's balmy essence, we slept soundly till morning, when we renewed our double offerings on those glorious and delicious altars, then breakfasted. + +This was the last occasion but one of our having the Count, whose time for departure to his own country was drawing near. + +He left that day on a visit to a family in Scotland, whose son and heir was really the fruit of his loins. + +On his return some fortnight later we again passed a night with our exquisite friend the Frankland, and being both fresh from the country, we administered so many delicious coups to both apertures as quite contented her salacious love of prick. We parted next day with our loved friend the Count, but not for the last time, as I shall relate in its proper place--a delightful visit we paid to him in his old ancestral castle, and an after-rencontre with him and his sister in Turin. + +I saw my loved Frankland to her home and left town myself the same afternoon for my home in the country, to arrange for various repairs and alterations required on the property. + +I took my dear friend MacCallum with me. We spent a pleasant ten days, varied with a visit first from one of my sisters and then from the other, for two nights each, and jolly nights we spent fucking in every way. + +Mary's belly was up, but she declared it only made fucking more delicious than ever to her, still more with the _double jouissance_, in which she preferred the smaller prick of MacCallum to mine in her arse. + +When Eliza came she stayed a third night, and taxed our powers to the utmost; she was such a glutton for fuck on this occasion, declaring that her husband's want of power, as well as tact, left her more lewd after his fucking her than she was before, so that she had been forced by the excess of her unsatisfied lust produced by her husband to have recourse to the fine prick of her footman, a powerful young fellow, otherwise very plain, and not likely to inspire jealousy to any husband, but with whom she rarely could do more than get a rack-off in a hurry, which was far from satisfaction sufficient for her hot passions. It was this that made her revel with such insatiable desires in the possession of our almost untiring pricks. Differing from Mary in her love of rear-fucking, it was my big prick she loved best to have in her arse, while MacCallum's lesser shaft satisfied her less exacting cunt. She was certainly one of the lewdest creatures ever made, wildly lascivious and full of variety. She had the most engaging ways with her, and could raise a prick from the dead. She was a worthy pupil of the Frankland, and had all the love and longing for prick, and cunt too, that our deliciously insatiable aunt was so famous for. She grew older, and becoming one of the most desirable women, I never tired of fucking her in both orifices whenever the opportunity presented itself. + +I returned to town just in time to have a parting orgy with the Count and the Frankland in my chambers, which I before said was a night of the wildest orgies. + +MacCallum was called to the country by the illness of some of his family, and was absent for six months, so I was left with Harry to have occasional orgies together with the Frankland three times a week, and with the Nichols and Ann or Jane once a week by way of variety, but as they only came for a morning visit, these were not exhausting encounters, so that we lay comparatively in fallow, till the return of the Benson and Egerton, when they and the lovely Frankland taxed us to the utmost twice or thrice a week. + +Thus time progressed. The Frankland had been a widow for nearly two years when she proposed to travel for two or three years without returning in the interval to England. She wished me to accompany her, and made a most surprising and unexpected proposition to me. + +She said, "Charlie, my own darling, I love you more dearly than ever. It is true I am considerably older than you, but you are now twenty-five years of age, and, therefore, a full-grown man. I wish to endow you with all my great wealth, and I offer you my hand in marriage. Do not suppose I want to monopolize this dear prick." (We were in bed naked, and had just concluded a most exquisite fuck.) "No, with our love of variety we will still seek it out, but as husband and wife we can do so with perfect ease and safety; whereas if not married and travelling together we should be compromised at every city we stop at. What say you, my darling Charlie?" Here she threw herself on my bosom with loving eyes upraised to mine. + +"Say, beloved of my soul! Why, look how the very idea has raised my prick to instant life. If anything in the world could delight me more than another it is your generous noble offer. To dedicate my life to the woman I love more than any other is a joy greater than I can express. I thank you from my soul, adorable creature as you are. Oh! come to my arms as my future wife and let us revel in the glorious idea." + +Such was the way in which this happiness was conferred on me, which endured for long years, although, alas, my widowed heart now all hopelessly ever regrets that most lovable of women and best of wives. Oh, what happiness it was as long as I possessed her. + +We were married in a few days after this by special license. + +The Benson and the Egerton were present and Harry Dale was my best man. We adjourned to her house, now ours, to breakfast. They also stayed to dinner and slept at our house, that we might celebrate our marriage with a parting orgy, for we announced to our friends that in marrying, so far from renouncing our orgies, we meant our union to promote ever varying ones, and that on our return we would renew the exquisite ones we had so often enjoyed with them. + +Harry and I did all we could on that happy occasion to satisfy three of the finest women in the world, whose delicious power of fucking was never surpassed and rarely equalled. + +Oh! we had such a delicious night. As to the women, their amorous gamahuching of each other was ever renewed, and was most exciting to see. + +After breakfast that morning they stopped to see us off, and threw old slippers after us for luck. + +We posted down to aunt's for a day and a night on our way to the continent. + +They were, of course, delighted with my marriage as bringing great wealth into the family, indeed, my darling presented aunt with a cheque for £1000. + +Mrs. Dale and Ellen came over, and we had another delicious night's orgy, in which all exerted themselves to the utmost. + +We parted from dear aunt and uncle, Mrs. Dale and Ellen, after luncheon, and posted down to Dover; slept at Birmingham's Hotel, where we had our real first night's fucking all to ourselves, enjoyed it in moderation but in every endearment that two lovers could devise. + +We crossed to Calais next day. + +The sea was smooth at first, but we found it after passing the Foreland very rough. My dear wife suffered severely; fortunately I myself never felt better, and was thus able to devote every attention to the dear sufferer. It left her even after we landed with nausea and a severe headache, so that night at Devaux's Hotel we slept each in one of the separate beds in the same room, as is usual in French hotels, and indeed in continental hotels in general. + +My darling wife was far from feeling well next morning, but fancied that posting on to Abbeville would rather tend to recovery than otherwise. We accomplished this easily between breakfast and dinner, found a very comfortable hotel with very fair cooking and excellent wines. My wife enjoyed her dinner, and felt something like herself after it. We slept together by bringing the two beds side by side, but only took a single fuck before sleeping, and next morning a double one. + +We spent the day at Abbeville, wandering through its quaint streets and seeing its fine unfinished cathedral. The following day we posted to Amiens, visiting its very beautiful cathedral, posted the following day to Beauvais, again slept, passed next day there, and on the following day posted up to Paris, and drove to Meurice's Hotel in the rue de Rivoli. + +We had previously written for a set of rooms _au premier_, overlooking the Tuileries Gardens, with orders to have dinner ready at a given hour. We arrived just in time to change our travelling costume and to sit down to a luxurious dinner. Here, as we had ordered, our bedroom contained a proper large bed for both to sleep in. This hotel being much used by the English was furnished with French taste but English comfort. + +The dilatory manner of our journey, the agreeable breaks we had made at different interesting towns had quite restored my beloved wife to all her accustomed health, energy, and lubricity. The comfort of the bed, the stimulating cheer, and the excellent wine also nerved me to meet her utmost lasciviousness, and we had a night such as we used to have when I first had her in my mother's spare bedroom. + +We recalled those happy days, and revelled in every lascivious act of the hottest lust. My adored wife excelled herself, and I myself was fully up to the mark; we fucked ourselves to sleep, with prick left soaking in her deliciously tightest of cunts, so that on awaking in full daylight I found my cock stiff standing in her cunt, which was giving it most delicious pressures, quite involuntarily, for the darling was not yet awake. I roused her by gentle movements, and the frigging of her long delicious clitoris, so that she awoke to joys of which we never tired. On this occasion natural wants compelled a temporary withdrawal to relieve our distended bladders. We found that it was already past ten o'clock, so she smacked my bare bottom and sent me off to my dressing-room, that both might get ready for breakfast, for which our appetites were already craving. I slipt on a dressing-gown, went into our sitting-room, rang for a waiter, and ordered breakfast to be got ready immediately, so that by the time we were dressed it was on the table all smoking hot, and we sat down and did full justice to it. + +We spent several days in visiting the wonders of Paris. + +I had heard of a famous bawd residing at No. 60, rue Richelieu, and another, Madame Leriche, in the rue de Marc, where they had rooms, from which, through cleverly arranged peep-holes, any operation in the next room could be distinctly seen. + +Madame Leriche's girls were instructed to get the finest men they could see in the street, to bring them in, and there to pretend to be so struck with their beauty that they would not be content without having them quite naked, stripping themselves also. When quite naked they caressed their pricks, waltzed round the room, taking care to stop exactly opposite each hidden opening, and there caress, handle, and show the standing prick to any looker-on, eventually fucking in such a position as all peepers could fully see and enjoy. + +The fun of the thing was the perfect unconsciousness of the men as to the purpose of all these gyrations. They took it proudly as a homage to their virility, and the power of their charms over their new conquest, and were doubly lustful in consequence, little imagining it was all a well-acted scene, got up for an exhibition to please others, and show all their virile gifts. Sometimes both man and girl were very attractive, and I used to fuck my loved Florence while in the act of peeping. + +The place where we sat to see was a small narrow room, with just space for a couch on one side and two chairs at the end, next to each peep-hole. Three other similar narrow rooms looked into the same operating room. + +One day we had an exciting fuck from the exhibition of a very fine man fucking his girl with a splendid prick. We were kneeling on the couch with my prick soaking in the quietude of the after-joy. We heard a scuffling with suppressed bawdy exclamations on the other side of the thin partition next to us. We, too, had made use of bawdiness. I had whispered to Florence how deliciously tight her hairy cunt was, and how splendidly her enormous arse moved below my eyes as I fucked her. + +We now discovered that the couple next to us had overheard us, for we could just hear her ask if her arse's movement and size pleased him as much as their neighbour's seemed to have done. + +"Oh, yes, my angel, you wriggle your immense arse to perfection, and your cunt is almost too tight." + +"Then fuck on with your splendid prick as hard as our neighbours were at it." A happy thought seized me. I put my finger to my lip to give the hint to Florence, slipped out into the passage and peeped through the keyhole, which commanded the whole of the narrow room. I beheld a handsome man fucking a superbly stout woman, kneeling with her head down low, but towards the door. Her arse uncovered and held aloft was a remarkably fine one, wriggling indeed to perfection. + +I slipped back, described it to my dear wife, and suggested our speaking to them through the partition as soon as they were done, to avow that we had heard all their goings-on, as they had ours, and to propose that we should form a _partie carrée_. + +Florence jumped at the idea, just as their sighs and shaking of their couch against the partition announced the grand final crisis. + +We allowed them some minutes for the after-satisfaction; we then heard the lady beg him to do it again as she felt his cock was stiffening within her cunt. + +"No wonder," said he, "when your delicious tight cunt is giving me such exquisite pressures." + +We thought this a happy moment, as they were both in a state of lasciviousness; so tapping at the partition, and raising my voice just sufficient to be clearly heard, I said-- + +"You have been following our example, and seem as lustful as we are, suppose we join parties and exchange partners. I am sure you must be two desirable persons, and you will find us worth knowing. It will be a novelty exciting to all, and will lead or not, as it may be, to a further acquaintance or just a momentary caprice. What say you?" + +A pause and a whisper was followed by-- + +"Eh! bien, nous acceptons." + +"Come to us, for I am half undressed," cried the gentleman. + +We rose and went in unto them, even in a biblical sense. My slight peep had given me an idea of two handsome persons, but a full view proved them to be eminently so. He was still up to the hilt from behind. She lifted her head to look at us on entering, but left her splendid arse exposed, and did not for the moment alter her position. We handled and pressed it. The gentleman feeling my wife's arse cried out to his dearie-- + +"Here's an arse equal to yours." + +Meanwhile, as I stood by her side feeling hers, she slipped her hand into my flap, and in answer to his exclamation, said-- + +"There's a prick bigger than yours. Oh, I see we shall all be delighted." + +She rose and pulled out my standing prick to show it to her husband, for like us they turned out to be a most salacious couple of married people. + +My wife laid hold of the husband's prick, and declared it to be a very fine one, and a delicious variety which was always charming. + +I proposed, as the room and couch could only accommodate one couple, that I should take his wife into our room, and leave mine with him, and as the two couches were close to the partition between, we could excite each other by our mutual sighs and bawdy exclamations. This was at once agreed to. + +We all of us stripped to the buff; my new companion was magnificently made--very much of my aunt's figure, with a splendid arse, although not so enormously developed as dear aunt's. Her cunt was delicious, a grand mons Veneris, sweetly haired with silky curls; her pouting cunt had the true odour, and was very tight, and her pressures and action left nothing to desire. + +I gamahuched her first--her clitoris was well defined and stiff. Her bubbies were superb, and stood firmly apart, face charming with lovely and lovable blue eyes, full of the sparkle of lust; lips red and moist, inviting a tongue. + +We indulged in delicious preliminaries; she had a good look at my prick, declared she had thought her husband's could not be beaten, but admitted mine was longer and larger. She sucked its head. Then lying back on the couch she begged me to mount on her belly, as she liked to commence in that pose. I mounted upon her, got my prick gradually up to the crushing of the two hairs, and then alternately tongue-ing her sweet mouth or sucking a nipple of her lovely bosom, ran a most delicious course, making her spend thrice to my once. + +Our other equally occupied couple had evidently got a course ahead of us, and were changing into the position in which we had first fucked our wives. + +We, too, followed in the same attitude, and really the fine arse of my _fouteuse_, her naturally small waist, seen to perfection in this position, and her noble shoulders beyond could hardly be excelled, and were most inviting and inciting. I plunged with one fierce thrust up her reeking cunt, and by the very violence of my attack made her spend on finding it up to the cods, giving me at the same time a cunt pressure almost equal to my loved wife's. + +She was so delightful a fucker that I fucked her thrice more before drawing out of that exquisite receptacle. + +On comparing notes afterwards I learnt that my wife's fucker had just done as much, and though not so cunt-satisfying a prick as mine, the variety and novelty gave it an extra charm that more than made up for any diminution of size. + +We were thus all mutually delighted with our change of partners. An acquaintance begun so delightfully led to a warm friendship and a constant interchange of these most agreeable refinements, including every variety of the gamahuche and _la double jouissance_ to all parties. + +We all went together to witness some rear-operations between two men, for which the old bawd's house, No. 60, rue de Rivoli, was quietly known to be the rendezvous. I made a first visit alone to see if it would be worth our while; had an interview with the old bawd, a bold masculine woman of a certain age, who must have been very desirable in her younger years, for even now many who frequented her house finished off in her fully developed charms. Her habit being, as I was told, to come in to the man after one of the girls had left him to purify herself, and herself to lave his prick from mere love and excitement of handling a prick, and from long practice she had an art of doing it in a way to raise another perpendicular, which led to its being allayed in the full-blown charms of the bawd herself. + +I was shown into her sanctum, and there I told her that I knew she could arrange an exhibition of sodomy. I said that I only wanted to see the operation, as it appeared to me impossible, and I should like the two fellows to be well hung and good looking, if such she could procure. + +"I have the very thing for you under my hand if you cart wait a quarter of an hour." + +As that exactly suited my purpose I said I would. + +She rose, rang the bell, and when a tap came to the door, went out and gave some orders. When she came back she said to me, "I have some very fine girls, all entirely without prejudices, would you like to have one up? I have them of all ages, from twelve to twenty-five; and also one or two handsome boys to have in company with them, to excite the slower powers of elderly men or those who like such additions." + +I thanked her, but told her my only object at present was to see an actual scene of sodomy. So to occupy me she opened a small cupboard, and took out some bawdy books, admirably illustrated. The examination of these was exciting; her experienced eye detected the effect in the distention of my trousers, the extent of which seemed so to astonish her that she laid her hand upon it, gave an exclamation of surprise at its size, and said she must see so noble a prick, unbuttoned my trousers, and pulled it out. She handled it charmingly and looked so lewd that I don't know what might have happened, for I had already slipped a hand up to an enormous big and hard arse, when a tap came to the door, and a voice announced simply that all was ready. This at once recalled me to myself, although the bawd would willingly have made me before adjourning to the other room. + +She said, "What a pity not to let me have this magnificent prick into me. I wish the fellows had not come so soon, I am certain I could have got it if we had not been interrupted, and I can tell you you would have found me as good a fuck yet as the finest young woman you could meet with." + +I laughed, and to quiet her, said, "We may have that another time, for you are a very fine and desirable woman." With this placebo she rose and accompanied me to the room where the two men awaited us. They were two tall, good-looking young men, evidently _garçons de cafés_, a class much addicted to this letch, and acting as paid minions to those wanting them. + +They naturally concluded that such was my object. They were already stript, and both their very fair pricks were nearly at full stand. They each turned themselves round, and asked which arse I wished to operate on, and which prick was to operate upon me. + +The old bawd, whose interest it was to induce me to have them, handled their pricks with great gusto, and pointed out the firmness and attractiveness of their arses, bid me feel how hard they were, as well as the stiffness of their pricks and the rough crispness of their ballocks. + +I felt them, and would gladly have had them both, but I knew they had an infamous habit of _chantage_, that is of denouncing to their gang well-to-do men who were got within their meshes, and go where he would in Europe he was sure to be waited on and money screwed out of him by threatening to denounce his practices; so shaking my head and refusing to let the old bawd pull out my prick, which might then have become too unruly, I firmly told her she knew I only came there to see what the operation was like, and had no idea of having my own person handled by them. + +A mutual glance of disappointment was exchanged between the bawd and them, but they put themselves at my disposal, and asked which was to be the recipient and which the operator. I pointed out the largest prick as the operator. They drew a sofa into the best light, and one knelt on it, presenting a very tempting arsehole to his fellow minion; after moistening it and spitting on it, the old bawd, with apparent relish, guided the prick of the other to the aperture, and it glided with all ease into the well-accustomed receptacle. + +I was seated by their side with my eyes on a level and close to the point of junction. A very exciting scene, for he went up to his cods, and fucked right earnestly while the recipient wriggled his arse to perfection, and seemed really to enjoy it. They spent with cries of joy in great delight, it excited me very much, and the observant old bawd could see my prick bounding within the confinement of my trousers. + +Hoping to overcome my reluctance to take part in the programme, she stimulated them to change places, and the recipient became the operator, and the other the recipient. I was awfully lewd, but resisted even that; after they had done I gave them a Napoleon apiece in excess of the price paid to the bawd, and left them to dress, and retired with the bawd to make other arrangements. + +On shutting the door and entering the corridor I perceived at once some doors opening upon small rooms adjoining the operating room, I guessed their destination; on attempting to open one the bawd seized my arm in great alarm, and said-- + +"You must not go there." + +I smiled and said, "Oh, I understand, come along." + +When once more in her sanctum I said, "I see you have had peepers watching the operations, so it is well I resisted any complicity in the action, but the discovery that you have the peep-holes already simplifies my object. I have come here to report upon the effect of this scene of sodomy. A friend who dares not do as much requires such a stimulant to enable him to fuck a woman he much desires to have, and who is my mistress. Now it so happens I want very much to fuck his mistress, and we have made a compact that if this scene is likely to excite him, we are to come to your peep-holes, and while he is thus enabled to fuck my woman I shall fuck his. I am thus explicit that you may know our real object. I suppose that now the witnesses to our operations to-day have left, so let me see the rooms that I may judge how far they will suit and which will most favour our object." + +The old bawd complied directly, but still longing to have my big prick into her, pulled her petticoats up to her navel, showing an enormous mons Veneris, thickly haired, and turning round a still finer arse, said, would I not like to assuage my excited prick in one or other of her really splendid attractions. + +I said not at present, thank you. And tightening my trousers over it, showed her that it had quite drooped its head, and was no longer in the humour. + +She undertook to raise it very quickly, but I politely declined, on the play of want of time, to thoroughly enjoy so splendid a woman. + +With a sigh of disappointment, for the size of my prick had evidently raised her lewdness to fiery zest, she led the way. Two or three of the peeping rooms were too small for four, but one was arranged for a _partie carrée_. I made an arrangement for the second day from then, and requested, if possible, to have four buggers together, to do it in various positions, and once at least in a chain of three pricks into the arses before them at the same time; I paid in advance half of the high price we were to pay, and fixed the hour of one o'clock in the afternoon, in order to have plenty of daylight to see and thoroughly enjoy all the excitement. + +I left but allowed the old bawd just on going away to take out my prick and give it a suck by the way of allaying a little the great desire she had for it. She doubtless expected to raise such a heat as would compel my passions to satisfy her, but I had now sufficient command of it to keep it down. + +Our grand scene of sodomistic encounters took place as arranged, the De Grandvits, as our new friends were called, and ourselves, with a basket containing two bottles of champagne, biscuits, and glasses, betook ourselves to No. 60, and were installed in the chosen chamber some five minutes before the arrival of the sodomites. We saw them undress, slap each other's arses, and feel each other's pricks to get them in fighting order. + +The old bawd was there and lent an effective helping hand where wanted. They all declared it would much assist their operations if she would strip and let them see her flitting round and aiding in their efforts. + +She knew herself to be much more attractive in body than face, and complied directly, and really added much to the excitement of the scene. + +They began by coupling in threes, so that one after the other held the delicious position of middle man--be fucked and fucking. The spare fourth fucking the old bawd, much to her gratification and ours. + +The first outsider was now placed in the middle, and the previous recipient became his attacker in the rear, while the previous rear-fucker became the recipient of the outsider. The late middle man, instead of fucking the bawd, buggered her to her apparent satisfaction. + +This was just what I wanted, for we had not as yet in our _parties carrées_ with the De Grandvits indulged even in bottom-fucking the women, but this, as we afterwards found, was equally indulged in private by them as well as ourselves. Now we enjoyed the sight of the old bawd wriggling in delight with loudly uttered exclamations of pleasure at having her bottom well fucked, for it was the largest prick of the four and a very fine one that was into her arse. + +We had already racked off in the cunts of each other's wives at the first display. + +"Let us try that," whispered my wife to De Grandvit, "it appears to give the old woman vast delight." + +It was what De Grandvit had been longing for in his inward soul. At the proposition of my adored wife his cock sprung into its utmost stiffness. She knelt on a chair before a peep-hole. De Grandvit brought his fine prick, which he had moistened with his spittle, up to her delicious hairy arsehole and with very little effort housed it to the hilt. + +At the whispered wish of my darling Florence he did not press to a rapid conclusion, but drew the fuck out to a most exciting length, and to an ecstatic ending in which they had great difficulty in suppressing exclamations of the delight afforded. + +I had followed the lead given, the delicious big arsed De Grandvit had, like her husband, a long previous wish to be so fucked, and from practice of that divine coition had no difficulty in taking in with vast pleasure my bigger prick. + +We both ran two exquisite courses in their delicious arse-holes, and then separated that all might see the grand finale of the four sodomites each in the arse before him, and the fourth front man into the immense and magnificent arse of the old bawd. This ended their exhibition. + +I should add that all in turn had either fucked or buggered the old bawd to her infinite gratification both in person and nurse for she claimed afterwards and received a good additional douceur for the extra sight of her own fine body, naked and in double action. + +When they were dressed she got out the liqueur bottle and gave them all a dram and a biscuit. We, too, partook of our champagne and biscuits while discussing the charms of the scenes just witnessed. + +My darling wife chimed in with the remark of how much more the middle man had seemed to enjoy it than the two outsiders. + +I added a remark that I had heard that such a position was the _ne plus ultra_ of delight. + +"Then why should we not try it?" said the glorious De Grandvit. + +"I quite agree with you," said the husband. + +"Who shall begin?" I thought, as the idea of trying it was first suggested by his wife, she ought to have her own idea first realised in her magnificent person. I would fuck her while he went into her arse. + +This was immediately adopted. I lay down on my back, the delicious De Grandvit mounted on me, rose and fell, and spent before she stooped on my belly and presented her splendid arse to her impatient husband, who for some minutes knelt prick in hand behind her. With gentle care and well-moistened prick he got housed at last in his wife's delicious arsehole, and then slowly at first, but more energetically afterwards, we ran a most exquisite course. + +As no one was now in the adjoining chamber, no restraint was put upon our lascivious exclamations. The De Grandvit was in such a delirium of ecstasy that she screamed again and died away in absolute annihilation of all sense but that of the utmost satisfied lust. + +My darling wife had straddled across us and been gamahuched deliciously by De Grandvit while _enculant_ his wife. We next changed the venue; he fucked my wife while I plunged into her glorious arse; the De Grandvit straddled across the others, was gamahuched by me as her husband had gamahuched my wife. This course, too, was run in an ecstasy of enjoyment to all concerned, and ended our orgy on that occasion. We arranged our dresses, finished our champagne, called up the old bawd, satisfied her demands, and thanked her for the exciting scene she had procured us. On asking her, she admitted that the other peeping rooms had been occupied by couples, and that one elderly gentleman had had two of her page boys to operate and be operated upon while the scene before him excited him to the necessary extent to take a part in it himself. He had just left, having stayed to listen to our proceedings and had told her the two gentlemen had in consequence of the scene witnessed initiated the women into the _double jouissance_, and the excitement of listening and hearing had enabled him once more to get into the handsomest boy, and have the other in him. + +She hinted that we ought to come again, and have the boys in, for she said the gentlemen, that is ourselves, would find an immense additional pleasure in letting the boys penetrate their bottoms while they were into their ladies in both apertures. + +We laughed, and said we should consider her offer, but for the present we were fucked out. + +We did not forget the bawd's proposal of having a boy to fuck us while _enculant_ the dear women. A hint to my darling wife brought this out at our next meeting. After the dear creatures had both enjoyed the _double jouissance_, my wife said to Madame De Grandvit-- + +"We are really quite selfish, here are our two loved husbands giving us the unutterable joys of the double junction, and yet not enjoying it themselves. You remember how the old woman at No. 60 spoke of the raptures the addition of her boys would be to the bottoms of our husbands while administering the double coition to us. Why should they not try the same on themselves, and give us the delight of seeing them in all the ecstasies their double embrace confers upon us? We know how they delight in being postillioned, which shows how much they would like the real thing if they dared avow it. It is for us to break down the barriers of prejudice and false shame. Here, Charlie, let me dedicate your bottom to the lust of our dear friend De Grandvit." + +My beloved wife was at the moment handling the prick of De Grandvit, and whose full-standing stiffness showed he was ready to face any difficulty. + +I pretended a fear of its size being too great to allow of entrance into that narrow path of bliss without great pain to the recipient. + +"You can never know that till you try," cried my darling wife. + +In all this she was only acting a part prompted by myself, for I was most anxious not only to have De Grandvit into my own arse, but was longing to be into his great, coarse, hairy, corrugated deep-brown arsehole. In this I differed greatly from our dear friend MacCallum, who loved the delicate unfledged arseholes of youths, while to me it was necessary to be the very reverse of the fair sex, whose arseholes in general are of a delicate pink with puckered-up charming little orifices, which, of course, have their charm; but when with men to me it was twice as exciting to find them like my dear friend the Count's, quite contrary to those of the fair sex. Dark-brown, roughly corrugated, and coarse hairs all round them were the arseholes that raised all my lust, and made sodomy a delicious contrast to merely fucking the arse-holes of women; such an arsehole as I most loved to fuck was M. De Grandvit's. + +I had suggested to my wife to tempt him with mine for the sole object of getting into his. He bit at the bait, so I shoved my prick into his wife's arse, my wife conducted his prick into my delighted bottom. I made some affected grimaces, but of course took him in with the greatest ease. My darling wife had acted postillion to him, and had frigged his wife with her other hand, so we ran a delicious course of the wildest lust. + +As we had already served out our wives too many fucks one trial was sufficient for the moment. De Grandvit was in ecstasies at the delight I had afforded him, especially as he appeared to be revenging the affront I gave to him by being into his wife _in culo_. + +My adored wife, with her happy art of handling and exciting a prick, nonetheless willingly that she was getting it up to go into her own hungry and delicious arsehole, soon brought De Grandvit to the necessary stiffness. + +I wanted no other stimulant than the expected satisfaction of a letch I had long had to be into his fine, rough, hairy arsehole. As soon as he was fairly hilted in my adored wife's splendid bottom, his better half took my prick in hand, put it into her mouth to suck and moisten it, and then guided it into that narrow abode of bliss I so longed to possess. It really was the first time De Grandvit's arsehole had ever been penetrated by a prick, although he had long wished for such an experience; there was therefore some real grimacing, for mine was not a prick of the ordinary dimensions, that might penetrate any arsehole, but a prick of the biggest, so I was obliged to be very gentle and make frequent halts. + +My darling wife was obliged to exert all her delicious means of keeping his fine prick in her arse at full stand by cunt pressures and her delicate handling of his ballocks; at last I was fully engulphed, and pausing until all strange feelings had subsided, a gentle movement and my darling wife's admirable seconding enabled us to end the course in the wildest ecstasies of the most delicious delight, and to sink on the broad back of my splendid wife, completely annihilated by the most exquisite joys of satiated lust. + +Once this delicious practice had been indulged in, you may be sure it did not end with a single experience, but as thereafter the _bonne bouche_ or finish of all our after-orgies. + +My beloved wife, whose eye for a capable man was infallible, had observed a genteel, tall, good-looking young German waiter in the hotel, who looked superior to his place. He turned out to be the son of a wealthy hotel proprietor at Frankfort, who had sent his son to Meurice's in a sort of apprenticeship, to learn how a large Parisian hotel was managed. In such a situation they receive no wages and have even in general to pay a premium for the privilege--this practice, which is general with German innkeepers, accounts for the number of genteel-looking waiters that are met with in the large hotels of great capitals, and who are found to be of superior education and information when spoken to in a friendly and familiar manner. + +This was eminently the case with our friend Carl. My wife had taken rather a fancy to him, not at first erotic, but observing that after she had talked to him familiarly that he began to be very deferential to her and with a certain manner that she, with the instinct of a woman, saw at once arose from amorous admiration. Casting her eye downwards she detected the effect produced in his trousers whenever she was kindly civil to him. She increased her familiar conversation, which evidently allayed any fear he might have had, and she could soon see by the increased bulging out of his trousers, not only that he was growing more lewd upon her, but that he was evidently very well furnished. + +Learning that he was the son of a wealthy father, well educated, only now placed in the position of a servant, in order to know, by obeying, how to command, and also to gain the experience which large and well-frequented hotels alone could teach how best to conduct his own hotel hereafter. + +She told me all about it, and thought he might be moulded to our purposes. Even if not she had taken a caprice to him so that in any case it would be a gratification to her to possess him. + +So I lent myself to aid her by purposely absenting myself either at breakfast or luncheon, under pretext of going to take one or the other with bachelor friends. + +As Carl was told off to especially attend upon us, and no other servant ever came near unless rung for, my wife had easy opportunity, and with her practised skill in seduction, had him into her on the second day. + +He proved an admirable stallion; grew passionately lewd on the splendid person of my wife, and became in fact cunt-struck upon her, probably the strongest bond that can entangle a man. It becomes an infatuation that makes him the slave of the cunt that has attracted him. There are few men of hot temperament who have not experienced this overmastering infatuation, and they know that even supposing the object becomes perfectly unworthy, unfaithful, abusive, and with every vice indulged openly before them, they may wince, they may thoroughly despise her, but the chain holds them fast in adamantine bonds, which neither the persuasion of friends nor their own knowledge of the perfect unworthiness of the object can tear asunder. + +Such became the fate of Carl, and my wife moulded him, with all her wily skill, to our lascivious purposes. When once under her enchantment, I made a run over to England on some urgent matters--purposely leaving the field open--my wife completed her conquest, had had him in every way, had postillioned him, and wormed out of him that at college he had indulged in sodomitical practices with young students like himself; but knowing how prejudicial it would be to him in his profession, he had weaned himself from the habit with men, but dearly loved the _enculage_ with women, and doubly adored my wife when he found her extraordinary and exquisite talent in that way. She also, after much apparent hesitation, in answer to his eager and continual questioning, omitted that her husband was much addicted to worshipping her bottom, and had taught her its divine use. She even cautioned him against any imprudence on my return, for she said she had her suspicions that I had a letch for men, and if I discovered their liaison, would be apt to avenge myself that way. + +"Oh, if he would still allow me to possess your enchanting person he might make what use he pleased of me." + +This was the point aimed at from the beginning. My wife wrote to me, and we arranged that I should announce my return for a certain morning, and that she should have Carl to sleep with her the previous night. + +I arrived in the middle of the night, walked into the room, found him in bed, played the angry husband, swore I must have revenge, and that as he had cuckolded me I must avenge the affront in being into his person. + +He objected, for form's sake, but said he would yield to anything if I would not drive him away from the adorable Madame. + +"That will depend upon the manner in which you satisfy my desires." + +"Oh, do what you like, dear sir, if only you will allow me to love Madame." + +"We shall see, we shall see; let me look at your prick. Oh, a good size, even when down. Let me see it at full stand." + +My wife here interfered, and said Carl was so good that she was sure he would prove a satisfaction to me. She took his prick in hand, and with her art of handling a prick, had it at full stand in a minute and asked me if she could possibly have refused so handsome a prick as that. And, indeed, it was a very fine one. + +Carl was a very fair young man, with a most beautiful and satiny skin. His prick was exquisitely white, and the blue veins showed themselves coursing through in a most tempting way--it was seven and a half inches long, by quite six in circumference, was thick up to the vermilion nut, although gently diminishing from the roots, the glans was smaller than the shaft close up to it; a hollow, like what you sometimes see in the neck of a bottle, ran all round the edge of the nut, and thus made it a head to the shaft. My wife declared that its shape gave her great pleasure in both orifices. It certainly was a very attractive prick, and now that it was at full stand I made him lie on his back on the bed, took it in my mouth, sucked and frigged it until he spent in an agony of delight. + +I then made him turn over on his belly, that I might admire his ivory-like buttocks, which I caressed and kissed in every way. My wife slipping her hand under his belly soon recovered the stiffness of his prick. I now desired him to kneel that I might be into his bottom. + +His exquisitely white buttocks, marble-like in polish, hardness, and coldness to the touch, were most attractive to women as well as to me. + +While thus kneeling with head low, and the chink between the buttocks well spread open, his exquisite small, pink, corrugated arsehole with almost invisible fair, short ringlets around it was truly lovely and exciting. + +As a rule, I like to fuck a rough, hairy-arsed man, but I can all the same appreciate the delight in such an exquisite arse-hole as Carl possessed. To me also it had the attraction of its first possession. When thus first fully displayed to my delighted eye, I flung myself on my knees, kissed and tongued the exquisite and delicious orifice, and speedily got furiously lewd upon it; and rarely have I fucked an arse more deliciously incentive to sodomy. + +"Oh, poor fellow," cried my wife, "you must let this fine object (his prick) be housed in me first, and then he will less feel the introduction of your large instrument." + +I immediately consented, on which he cried out in delight-- + +"Oh do what you like with me, as long as your adorable lady will permit me to possess her." + +"Well," said I, "see, her cunt is reeking with your spunk, so I will first bathe my prick therein, to make it go easier into your arse." + +We took up kneeling positions. He filled the delighted cunt of my wife, and presented his really beautiful arse to my raging lust. I humoured the entrance a little, but once within over the nut, I plunged recklessly forward, somewhat too roughly, for it made him wince, and he would have escaped from me if he had not been doubly imprisoned. The pause I gave him after being fully engulphed calmed the strange sensation, and we gradually increased our movements until both died away in excessive delight, especially to him, for it was his first experience of _la double jouissance_, and it gave him such exquisite enjoyment that he begged me not to withdraw, but to run a second course. My darling wife thinking it would increase his lewdness if she changed his prick from her cunt to the more divine orifice, withdrew it, and placed it in the grove sacred to the secret rites of Priapus. + +He enjoyed the ecstasies of paradise on this last occasion, and we all fell on the bed completely overcome by the soul-killing joys of the discharge, and lay soaking in all the after-pleasure for some time, until my darling wife begged us to relieve her of our overpowering weight. We rose and purified ourselves, and then I posed him standing up, admiring the really fine proportions and beauty of his handsome fair form. I sucked his prick until it stood, and then told him he must give me the pleasures of the middle, which he was so highly praising as the utmost exquisite enjoyment he had ever experienced. + +My darling wife was delighted. She got on her knees. I entered her delicious cunt in the first bout, and I quickly housed Carl's prick in my arse. + +We ran an exquisite course, and then a second with only a change of my prick to Florence's arse instead of cunt. Carl was after this obliged to leave us, as the morning was getting on. + +I sent him away the happiest of men by telling him as long as he placed his arse at my disposal, he should have my wife always at the same time. + +Thus we had secured another fine prick to our general orgies. We told the Grandvits of our fortunate _trouvaille_. + +Monsieur made some difficulty about his being a servant, and the fear of discovery of our orgies through his indiscretion; but hearing that he was much superior to a servant he consented to his introduction. + +After they had seen and admired him, they expressed their extreme satisfaction at the result of his joining us--for both Madame and Grandvit loved to have him into all their orifices. We could now fuck both women at once, and the double pleasure could be given to either sex without there being any outsider. + +Every third night they slept in our hotel, and that night we never ceased conjunctions in every variety, with pauses for refreshment, purification, pleasant bawdy talk, fun, and frolic. For a month longer this delicious existence lasted, and then it was time for us to proceed southward. We parted from the Grandvits with much regret, but promised to return in the spring and visit them at their country house. I may here add that we did so, and enjoyed our visit to the utmost; and, in the second year of our absence, they accompanied us into Germany, where at last we left dear Carl. He had begged us to let him go as my valet with us to Italy. + +His intended stay in Paris was within a month of its termination; he wrote to his father that the opportunity of travelling through Italy under the offer we had made was too advantageous to be lost. His father consented, and thus for eighteen months he was our constant companion and participator in all our lascivious conjunctions. + +Carl accompanied us to London on our first return home, and resided with us for three months. I told the Benson and the Egerton of our good fortune in discovering him, and the exquisite addition to our party of us and the De Grandvits he had been. + +They were instantly alive to the delight of possessing him. + +I had continued the occupation of my chambers in the Temple, in which Harry Dale still resided; it was there we erected our altar to the Apostrophian Venus, and held our orgies. + +Carl delighted our old friends, who were never tired of having him one way or another, while Harry or I administered to the _double jouissance_. + +A new prick to a woman is like a fresh cunt to a man, and for the time gives additional zest to the lust which rages in us. So it is with the darling Benson and the lovely Egerton. They revelled in the possession of Carl. They knew they could only have him but a short time, and they made the most of him. + +My beloved wife, with that kindly consideration for every one which distinguished her, quite abandoned Carl to these two dear insatiable cunts, and contented herself with presiding over our orgies, dictating new and exciting poses to our two friends, leaving Carl and me to their embraces, and consoling herself with a fuck now and then from Harry Dale, when we two were simply fucking each his dame. She told them, "I can have Carl and Charlie whenever I like at home, so must leave them to you for the three months that Carl can only give us." + +We met thrice a week. My wife used to drive to the dear creatures and take them up, the husbands being much gratified at the affection shown by my wife to them, and never having the slightest suspicion of the object my wife had in taking them out. As to our own servants they knew the chambers belonged to their master, and they knew we lunched there, but they never imagined their mistress would take ladies to share in their master's embraces. So that we carried on our intrigue in perfect safety and impunity. + +It was a sad day when we left with Carl, who never again returned to England. Our darling companions had become much attached to him, and parted with close embraces, and with bitter tears bade him adieu. + +We parted from him at Frankfort, where his father, retiring to a country life, left him proprietor of a capital hotel, to which in after-years we often resorted when going to and from the German spas, and always stayed some days to renew the orgies we all so loved. His love for my adored wife's cunt endured for ten or twelve years, when an advantageous marriage softened it, perhaps more through the jealousy of his wife who, suspecting, caused us to desist from using his hotel. He had also got a family of a boy and two girls growing up, which completely ended our acquaintance. + +To return to the time of our conducting him to Frankfort with the Grandvits, they afterwards accompanied us in a tour in Switzerland, but left us at Sion, when we turned our steps across the Simplon to Italy. + +We were invited by our friend the Count to visit him for a month at his old castle in the hills of San Giovanni, overlooking all the ground of Bonaparte's earlier battles in his first Italian campaign. + +We followed the right bank of Lake Maggiore to Arona and Allessandria, and thence by Acqui gained the castle of the Count on the hill above. It was situated in the midst of glorious scenery. From the summit of a hill near the glorious line of the _Alps_ could be seen Monte Rosa, Mont Blanc, Mont Cenis, Monte Giovi, and thence round the Apennines, while the Gap leading to Savona gave a view of the sea, the southern suburb of Genoa, and the line of coast leading to Spezia. + +It was a glorious view, and we often directed our steps to the summit from whence it was seen during our month's stay with our loved and delightful host. + +His old castle was only partially ruinous, but quite habitable. However, his father had built a comfortable house in the garden, at the base of the rock. + +The castle crowned a perfect perpendicular detached mass of rock, half round which rushed a mountain torrent, the approach being a very steep zigzag with now ruinous defences, a very steep and difficult ascent. It is true from a low entranced cave at the foot a secret stair led up from the garden, of which I shall have more to say in relating some incidents of the Count's earlier history, as confessed to us in our close and intimate intercourse. + +We were warmly welcomed by our dear friend, who, leading us to our rooms, had a rack-off of his waste steam in the ever delicious cunt of my loved wife, who, it will be recollected, had a great penchant for the Count, when she used to prefer him at our Percy Street orgies. When the Count retired, I plunged my excited prick into the balmy bath he had prepared for me in my wife's cunt, fucking her fast and furiously the instant he retired, a change she loved above all things; this calmed us for the moment, and enabled our waiting for night. + +We had expected to find a young sister of the Count with him but at our orgy at night he told us that since his return home he had had this sister, and that in fact at that moment she was staying with an accoucheuse at Turin, and he expected to hear of her delivery by every post. We congratulated him on finding so delicious a bit of incest to his hand on his return to his country. + +"Ah!" said he, "it is much more delicious than you think." + +"Indeed, how is that?" + +"She is my own daughter as well as sister." + +"What a delicious idea!" cried I, "what a cockstand, and what a fuck it must have been to you! But you must have had your own mother to bring about such a delicious result. Do let us hear all about it, my dear Count, it will excite us all to renewed efforts, as incest always does." + +This conversation occurred during a long pause we had made in our first night's orgy when quietly seated after purification, restoring our powers with Champagne and some slight refreshments prepared by our host for the occasion. We had already had three hours of the most delicious fucking in every possible combination, being all, especially the Count, fresh and in excellent order for a thorough excess. So we all were glad of a respite, and listened to the exciting story of the Count's delicious double incest. As we did not hear all at that sitting, I will finish an account of our doings, and then give a connected narrative or sketch of that strange intrigue, and some other of his earlier escapades, merely adding that his account of his affair with his mother set us all off in such an excitement of lust, followed by such an excess of fucking in bouts of _double jouissance_, in which not only my adored and most lascivious wife came in for her full share, but both the Count and myself enjoyed the double bliss in our turn. We carried on to such an excess that we were quite knocked up, and were so overpowered with sleep the next evening that by common consent we quietly went to bed, and deferred till morning any fresh deeds in the fields of love and lust. + +We found this so refreshing to our powers of fucking that we regularly adopted the system of lying fallow the earlier portion of every other night. + +We passed a most agreeable time with walks and rides through the lovely scenery, and explorations of the old castles. + +The Count himself had two, but the one immediately above his house was by far the most interesting and was the original seat of his ancestors, wild robber barons of their day; and a black deed was reported in the traditions of the peasantry around. + +The castle, although in a valley between the hills, stood on a high perpendicular isolated rock some hundred-and fifty feet above its base; it was crowned with a very high building to make up for want of space at the foundation, and had besides a very lofty and bold round tower, rising high enough above the sides of the valley to serve as a lookout beyond them. The habitable part was reached from the main gate by a steep stair, at one of the landings was a trap door opening upon a profoundly deep shaft; tradition said that this was a trap for personal enemies, who, on pretence of reconciliation were invited to the castle; on passing over the trap it opened, and they were precipitated to the bottom. It was the common tradition of the peasantry that wheels with scythes attached chopped them to pieces at the bottom. + +It is a curious fact, and one showing how tradition may preserve a truth where least expected. Our friend the Count for six months lay hidden in the secret recesses of this old castle at the time a price was set on his head for treason. This had led him to all sorts of explorations, in which he had discovered many hiding places. + +Knowing of this tradition about the cutting up of bodies at the bottom of this deep shaft he got his two younger brothers to let him down by a long cord, and really found the remains of machinery and wheels with rusty blades attached. + +After he had finally escaped, a more regular search was made, and it was discovered that a communication with the torrent on a former higher level had let the water pass underneath the castle, and turn a water wheel which cut up the bodies and made them float away by the outlet. Human skulls and bones were found, singularly verifying the truth of tradition. + +At the time the Count was a fugitive hiding therein, the old apartments were used as a granary to store the rent in kind of his father's tenantry. As there were suspicions of his having taken refuge here, the place had been two or three times ransacked by the police without their discovering him--thanks to the ingenious hiding places he had discovered.., But for this very reason every precaution had to be taken, and no beds, bedding, or plates, knives, chairs, or tables were there; he slept on the corn, spread three feet thick on the floor, or sat on it when tired. His mother, with provisions under her petticoats, would saunter in the garden, and, when unobserved, slip into the low cavern and ascend by the secret stairs, and seated on the corn by his side, would wait until he had done, to take everything away, and leave not a trace of any one being provisioned up there. These details are explanatory of what follows. The Count had been one of the Royal Guard for two years at Turin, and being a handsome young fellow, had as much fucking at command as he could wish for. When shut up for months in his asylum the passions that had been kept under by constant gratification began to torment him; from the loopholes of the castle he could see the peasant women working on the mountainside, and, in stooping, showing their legs even up to the bare skin, and this used to drive him mad with desire. He did not frig himself, but at night stole down to the garden, secured a large pumpkin or two, took them up to his retreat, cut small holes in their sides, and then thrust his stiff-standing prick into them, forcing the hole to the size of his prick, and then working the pumpkin with both hands till he spent deliciously; he used to get six or seven fucks in these artificial cunts, then throw away the finished one on the torrent side of the castle. This was so far a relief, but his lust grew fiercer every day, and on one occasion became uncontrollable. + +His mother, who had married at fifteen, was now a fine ripe woman in her thirty-sixth year. One day, after setting down the things she had brought up, she lifted her outer gown that she might not show she had been sitting on corn; the Count was already seated much below her body on the low corn. His mother accidentally on this occasion drew up all her clothes, showing the whole of her fine arse, and in stooping backwards to seat herself all her fine hairy and gaping cunt was visible to his lower sight. This was too much for the Count, in a moment his prick sprang to the fiercest stand, he instantly unbuttoned his trousers; his mother finding she had brought her bare arse onto the corn, leant over on the side opposite to her son to tuck her petticoats under her arse, but the Count seized her round the waist with one arm, with his body pressed on her already bent body, forced her quite down on her side and was into her cunt up to the hilt, he thrust it up so fiercely as not only to make her shriek with surprise, but also with pain. She struggled to be free, but was held down with all the energy of his ferocious lust. Very few thrusts in and out were required to bring down the first rush of his sperm; this lubricated her cunt, his prick never, yielded, but stood as stiff as ever, and with hardly an instant's pause he recommenced a more delicious action than the previous one. His mother, however, was much distressed in mind at the first horror of the incest, but being a ripe woman of hot lubricity, could not feel a fine prick deliciously belabouring her cunt without having her lust excited in spite of herself. As all pain of the unprepared forcing of her cunt had passed away, and the plentiful rush of her son's spunk lubricated all the passage, she soon could not control her passions, and seconded him with an art which left nothing to desire. His long deprivation fired him to unusual efforts, and he fucked her five times before he withdrew. + +When she sat up she said, "Oh! Ferdinand, what have you done! How could you do so? Violate your own mother. It is dreadful." + +The poor Count, seeing her much distressed, burst into tears, threw his arms round her neck, and weeping told her he could not help it. + +She patted his head, and said. "Poor fellow, poor fellow." + +On this he lifted his head to kiss her. She, too, wept, and they mingled tears and caresses together; this almost instantly restored his prick to its pristine stiffness. He bent his mother back on the corn, and although she resisted a little, and said it was too dreadful his wanting to commit such a sin again, she opened her legs when he got over her, and did not prevent his pulling up her petticoats. + +He was into her this-time-well-moistened and really longing cunt, for her passions were now become lascivious. + +Thrice more did he fuck her, each time more delicious than the others, and in all seconded by the most splendid action of his mother's arse, and the most exciting pressures of the inner folds of her really delicious cunt. + +At last she left him, but after so delightful a commencement every day saw a renewal of these delicious encounters. + +His mother proved an adept in every resource of lust. Being a splendidly made woman, and salacious in the extreme, when once she had given way to her lubricity, she indulged in every whim of lust. She always, after a few days' fucking, came very lightly dressed, with no stays or other encumbrances, so that they used to strip and fuck at ease in every way. The Count assured us that much as he had since enjoyed some of the finest women, never had one given greater pleasure than his delicious, lewd, and salacious mother, doubtless the fact of it being incest added to the usual gratification given by a ripe, well-made, luscious-cunted woman. + +After the first week of their delicious encounters, his mother said to him, "My dear Ferdinand, we are very imprudent, you may get me with child if we do not adopt precautions. Your father does not wish to have any more children, and takes care not to get them." + +"How does he prevent it, my dear mamma?" + +"Well dearest, he goes slowly to work, and while he has it in me rubs his finger on the point where you are now feeling (he was gently rubbing up her clitoris, a well-developed one) until he has made me enjoy it several times, and when he finds he is about to discharge he suddenly withdraws it, and pushes the head of it into my bottom and spends there. You must do the same, but you must not put all this long thick fellow in. Oh! come to my arms, my son, you have excited me until I must have it immediately." + +Upon which the Count mounted and fucked so deliciously that with arms and legs round his body and loins, devil a bit would she allow him to withdraw, but spent with him most ecstatically, and quickly called for more, so that it was not until the third time of his being about to spend, that throwing her fine legs high in the air, and bringing her arse with a heave well up, and taking his prick out with her hand, she guided it to the delicious smaller orifice, and as all was reeking with the previous discharge, slipped it in, not the head only, but the whole shaft. She cried out, "Not so far, not so far," but as he began shoving in and out she quickly got excited, and wriggled her arse with all her accustomed skill, and spent deliciously again as he shot his spunk right up into her incestuous entrails. + +He passed a hand between their bodies to press a finger on her clitoris, this made her cunt throb, which was felt by his prick, and quickly sent him up upon another delicious enjoyment of the tight recess of obscene lust, and a second most exquisite and luscious course was run, equally to his mother's as to his satisfaction. Then he withdrew to relieve her body of the weight she had so long sustained, they mutually embraced their naked bodies, and sweetly conversed on the exquisite joys they had just participated in. His mother declared his father gave her nothing like the lascivious joys she received from his dear son. They toyed and kissed until, handling his prick with skill, she got two more delicious fucks, one in each receptacle, and parted for the day. + +By the second month she discovered that what she dreaded had happened. Her son had got her with child; she wept when she communicated this unfortunate result, but the Count, like me, always stood fiercely at a woman's tears. Several splendid fucks followed, all in the cunt--the mischief was done, and precautions were no longer necessary. + +His mother abandoned herself to him with a greater excess of lust than she had ever yet done, and fucked with an excellence, vigour, and energy that drew from him eight discharges in a wonderfully short time. The fact of his having put a baby into her appeared to stimulate both their passions. She declared she never in her life had enjoyed fucking more. They used the grossest bawdy terms in their intercourse, as if it was one barrier more broken down between them, and made their incestuous love more exciting and a greater destruction of all natural ties between them. + +Before parting they consulted about how best to fix the parentage on her husband. + +He was a man of fifty-five, and, therefore, past the ardour of passion--taking even his fucking coolly--and, therefore, more difficult to hoodwink. + +She knew that he awoke with a cockstand, although that did not always lead to a fuck. Upon this they founded their hopes, and at last arranged she should drug his coffee, and when still asleep in the morning she should handle his prick, get him up, turn her bum, put it into her cunt, work him gently, make him spend which would awake him, hold him in, pretend she herself was in the acme of delight, but on coming to her senses, upbraid him with having spent inside. + +This all happened as planned, he did awake on spending, but his wife exerted such unusually delicious pressures upon his delighted prick, that he got so excited as to fuck her in and she took care he should spend inside a second time-'she pretended to be carried away by passion as much as he was. But remonstrating afterwards upon the imprudence of what he had done, especially in having so excited her that she could not help spending at the instant he did, which made it more dangerous. She did not know how it was but she had never before seemed to receive such pleasure from him as he had given her that morning. + +"Well, my darling, it is a curious coincidence, but you never seemed to me more delicious or more lasciviously excellent in your fucking than you did just now. As it is but once let us take more care in future, and hope nothing will come of this little and delightful imprudence." + +But of course there did, as the Count related to us, and seven months after this morning fucking my mother gave birth to a daughter. "I had already been in exile for five months when this event came off, I had letters from my mother after she got about and for some years afterwards, telling me that my sister was a beautiful child, and growing up _the image of her father_, underlining those words for me, to put the true construction on them. Poor darling mamma, she died four years ago, and my father followed her two years later. I never saw either of them again. + +"Before I escaped from Italy I had passed five months in the constant possession of my beloved mother. As her pregnancy advanced her salacious avidity for my embraces seemed to increase. She was insatiable, but with such variety of charm and art that I never failed to answer to her call. Every refinement and excess of the wildest and grossest lust was practised by us. + +"My father possessed a small collection of the grossest bawdy books; my adored and salacious mother purloined from time to time the lewdest, we read and excited ourselves in the realisation of the wildest and grossest scenes therein depicted. + +"My mother was an instance of a woman getting once out of bounds and then stopping short of no excess, and became boundlessly corrupt. There was no horror we two could possibly commit that we did not indulge in. + +"My father, when once the pregnancy was undoubted, was less reticent of his fucks. My mother at my request used to stimulate him to fuck her just before coming up to me, so that I used to shove my prick into the paternal sperm, sometimes in her cunt, and sometimes in her arse, and eventually used to lick it up before fucking her either way. The incest of her son upon the immediate fuck of her husband was, she said, the most stimulating to her excessive lust of anything I could possibly do. + +"My father was obliged to go to Turin for ten days; it was the time of new moon, when nights were dark. My mother used to put on a dark cloak and come up to me; we lay down on her cloak, and, stark naked, gave ourselves up to the wildest lust until dawn, when mother slipt away to the house and left me well inclined to sleep until she returned with my food. + +"Oh! it was a happy time, its combinations of solitude and incest, combined with my lusty youth, for I was only nineteen years old at that time, made me be constantly at her call, and she never went away before her excessive lust had been satisfied for the moment. Had circumstances permitted her to stay with me longer than she usually did, she would have got more frequent fucks out of me; at night, when she could come, she got ten and sometimes eleven discharges from me, and probably herself spent twice as often. I was indefatigable. + +"In all her after-letters to me she constantly avowed grief that she had lost her most loved son; that she was inconsolable, punning on the con in the word, which is French for 'cunt.' + +"Various allusions of that sort were in all her loving letters. Often and often when I have been slack in fucking a woman, and my prick not answering when called on, I had only to conjure up some of these scenes with my mother when my cock would spring to the stand instantly, to the immense satisfaction of my momentary _fouteuse_, and it is so yet, a thought of her reanimates it at once." + +Here my adored wife slipped her hand under his dressing gown, and found his prick standing fiercely, she seized it, and pretending to be his mother, cried out-- + +"Come, oh, come! my beloved Ferdinand, into your own loving mother's arms." + +She fell back on the couch, he got between her legs, kneeling on the floor, having thrown off his robe, exhibiting his fine hairy arse--one of those I so dearly loved. The sight fired my salacious prick, so kneeling behind, I guided it into his arsehole, and while he fucked my adored wife, I sodomised his superb arse. We ran two delicious courses, then my wife took me in her cunt, while the Count buggered his supposed mother, for that stimulating idea was kept up. A second fuck followed in the same pose, with both her apertures filled to satiety. + +This concluded that delicious orgy; we had a half night's rest the following night, as usual, to recruit, that we might better enjoy a perfect excess on the subsequent night. + +It was in this way we kept up our powers, and only near the end of our visit had we any occasion to apply the birch, and that to no great excess. + +It was in the middle of the second night that the Count continued his recital of the result of the intrigue with his mother. His sister-child, for she was both, was born in his first year's exile. Beyond his mother's description of her, that she was growing up a beautiful girl, the image of her father, meaning her son, the Count, he had no other intelligence of her. She had just turned eleven when her mother died; for two years after that sad event she kept house for her father. + +He then dying, the second brother took possession of the property. As the state had deprived him of all civil rights, the property was given up to the brother. On his return, after being amnestied, the Count had to go to law with his brother to get back his property. His sister-daughter, who had been unhappy with her brother's wife, gladly left them to keep house with the Count. She was then in her seventeenth year, splendidly developed in bosom and bottom, lovely and lustful deep-brown eyes, the very image of her father, although she only knew him as her brother. The recollection of the fierce joys he had had with his own and her mother, drove him wild with lust to possess the incestuous fruit of his intrigue with his own mother. He used of an evening after dinner to have her sit on his knee while he related his adventures abroad, intermingled with kissing and toying. He praised her splendid bubbles and felt them; he said he could not believe that her immense prominence behind was real unless he felt the bare skin. With little resistance this was permitted once, then indulged in, until from less to more he got to feeling and frigging her cunt, while he put his own standing prick into her caressing hand. There could be but one end of this. He took her maidenhead, and then she crept into his bed every night. He initiated her into every excess of venery, and ended by getting her with child. It was concealed as long as possible, and then, on pretence of a visit to a friend at Turin, to see some fetes, he conducted her to an _accoucheuse_, and left her there until her parturition was over. + +I may here mention that just five weeks after that event came off we met them at Turin, on our way home from Venice. She was a beautiful girl. The Count introduced us as old friends, with whom every thing could be done in common. + +We stopped a fortnight, and initiated her into all the mysteries and extravagancies of the wildest lust, and she proved apt a scholar that she almost equalled in action and enjoyment the greater experience of my beloved wife. + +The Count had taken apartments at Turin for the winter, and finding his sister-daughter so facile a pupil he intended getting up a _partie carrée_ to continue these delightful orgies. His child was a lovely fruit of double incest, and gave promise of being a lovely woman. Her mount was charmingly plump, and the pouting lips of her delicious little cunt were already lust-exciting. The Count hoped he would be able to fuck her when old enough and promised me a participation when the time came. + +I may here add he had her always to bed with him, and his sister-mother every morning, and in the bath with him. + +She grew up admirably developed. From between seven and eight years old he gamahuched her delighted cunt; at eight began rubbing his prick on her clitoris, and by nine had gradually stretched it that he could enter nearly his whole length, and spend there. + +We long knew each other, and he always said he was practising the lesson my adored wife Florence had instructed him in, when relating to us the incidents of her earlier days, and of her gradual violation by her own father. + +I shall defer this story that I may at once describe the after-fate of this beautiful child, whom I and my wife have since often enjoyed between us, when she was entrusted to us by her father. + +After a visit to us in England he left her to perfect her English for six months with us. We certainly perfected her erotic education while she perfected herself in English by her own ready talent for language, for although only in her sixteenth year, she spoke five languages perfectly, besides all the local dialects of Italy, which differ greatly from each other. Her stay with us was much prolonged, for at the time she was about to leave us she proved to be with child by me. In due course of time she was safely delivered of a daughter. + +Her father, who came over to take her home after the advent, ceded the dear little object of my connection with her mother to my wife's prayers. + +We had no children of our own, and she would adopt her. The Count, who in his heart was delighted at the proposition, left her with us. He afterwards had a son by this beautiful and charming daughter and granddaughter of his at one and the same time. + +It is now long years ago, and that son legally adopted is now Count in succession after his father's death. + +We paid many visits during these years to each other, during which the Count related to us some of the episodes in his life, which I give in his own words-- + +"You ask me to relate my first experiences. My earliest initiation into the secret mysteries of love's recess was rather a curious one, and one which ended very disagreeably for the fair nun who sought to teach me the gentle art of love. + +"You must know that after Bonaparte's first conquest of Northern Italy, when he had turned the Alps by the Savona depression, and by the battles of Montenotte and others in that neighbourhood, gained the interior plains and carried all before him, Piedmont was annexed, and after the then French fashion, all church property was seized. Monks and nuns were turned loose in the world, with a promise of small pensions which never were paid. A nun of a convent in our neighbourhood was one thus thrown on the world. To sustain life she opened a little school for boys and girls of tender age. The neighbouring gentry, willing to assist a worthy creature reduced to poverty by no fault of her own, sent their children to her for primary instruction; my mother had taken a great fancy to Sister Bridget, as she was called, and I was sent to her school. I had just entered into my twelfth year, but was a fine grown boy of my age, and I can remember that my prick when standing in the morning had already shown proofs of fair development, which gave promise of its future prominence I think I was the biggest boy in the school, all the others being two or three years my juniors. I was in perfect ignorance as to the relation between the different sexes. The nun seemed to have taken a fancy to me, she used to embrace me with her arms, and kiss me with very pouting lips, and I could feel that she seemed to suck in my breath. She made me stand very close to her in repeating my lessons, her arms or elbows, apparently by accident, were always pressed against the spot where my, at first insensible, prick lay hid. Without knowing how it came about, these sort of accidental pressures at last excited it to stand, which she, no doubt on the watch, was delighted to perceive. Seeing how she could now excite it to the point she wished to arrive at, she said aloud one day--'Fernandino, you must stay to repeat that lesson after the school rises. You want a little extra instruction which I cannot give you while occupied with all the class.' I thought this a kindness on her part, but her object was very different. When all had gone and we were left alone, she desired me to come nearer, the elbow played its usual game, my cock stood, she pressed harder against it, then cried out, 'Dear me! what is that hard thing in your trousers? let me see.' She unbuttoned them, put in her soft hand, and drew out my prick. 'How curious that is. Is it always so?' 'No, not always.' 'When how comes it so now?' 'I don't know, but sometimes in moving to show me my lesson your elbow touches it, and it gets into that state.' All this time she was handling my prick in the gentlest and most exciting manner, indeed she very quickly produced the spasmodic joys of heaven thus brought down to mortal man, of course with only the nervous result. This was all that was attempted the first time, when she told me to button up, saying that it was a very bad thing to encourage that habit, and I must be prudent and not let others know of its being improperly hard and stiff. + +"This sort of thing continued for a day or two. Finding I had said nothing about it to any one, she proceeded to effect her grand object. I was kept in as before. She excited me as usual, and soon had it out stiff-standing. 'Now,' said she, 'I will initiate you into love's mysteries. I see you are discreet and can be trusted; lie down on your back on this school form.' I did so. She lifted my shirt, my trousers were already down on my legs, she felt the shaft and appendages, then kneeling by my side she sucked it deliciously until it felt as if it would burst. She then rose and straddled over the low form and my body, pulled her petticoats up to her navel, and to my great surprise showed an immense thick mass of hair, covering the whole of her lower belly. Guiding my prick to the entrance of her cunt, she gradually engulphed the little object by letting her body descend upon it. I felt a certain smarting of pain in her first movements, and my prick partially softened, but quickly regained all its stiffness by the pleasure she gave me by her up and down movements on it. I went off as before in a paroxysm of choking delight; she, too, spent, for I was conscious of a stream of warm liquid flowing on my cock. She tightly held me where I was, and by cunt pressures quickly brought it up to full stiffness again, and a second delightful paroxysm followed. + +"After this I fairly shrank to nothing, and dropped out. On rising I saw that there was a wetness streaked with blood all over my cock and cods; boylike, the sight of blood frightened me, and I began to cry, she wiped it all off, and skinned back my prick to wipe under it but here the raw surface made it painful, and even drew a show of blood; previously my foreskin had been attached to the projecting edge of the nut, her action of sinking on it had torn it off and forced it down on the shaft, doubtless this is the maidenhead of a boy, and hence the first smarting pain and the slight loss of blood that followed. She tried to detain me that she might get some warm water, which she told me would put it all to rights. I was too frightened, and ran off home crying all the way, and like a stupid lubberly boy, sought my mother and told her all what Sister Bridget had done and showed how sore she had made my cock. My mother, enraged, ran at once to the school, where in a back room Sister Bridget resided-berated her well, and in her anger let it all out, so that the poor woman, lost all her scholars, and was reduced to perfect poverty. However, a young Count in the neighbourhood, who had been long trying to have her, now persuaded her to accept his protection; she had the wisdom to make him settle indefeasibly a pension upon her, so as to be safe from future abandonment. I, of course, soon regretted the stupidity of my conduct. As soon as cured of the slight soreness of my cock, my imagination recurred to the pleasure her handling and sucking had given me, and the delicious paroxysms she had produced, but, alas! all too late. However, now I was awakened to the true use of a prick, and our women servants and the peasant girls in the neighbourhood, who knew of my affair with the nun, gave me encouragement, and I fucked them right and left, in the fields, under the bushes, in stables or lofts, and carried on this for a year; but at last I was discovered by my father, and sent off to college at Savona. Colleges in Italy have schools attached for younger students like your King's College, in London. + +"Here I found a youngster but six months older than me, the son of a friend of my family. I told him the story of my affair with the nun. We used to get leave to go to the water closet from different masters, so as not to be supposed to go together by design. From feeling our cocks and frigging ourselves until we spent, which we both now could do, my friend suggested that I should put it into his bottom, which a young usher in his first school had taught him to do. He was a plump, good-looking lad, with wonderfully large buttocks, and with an arsehole which from the usher's practice, whose cock was full grown, was so widened and sunk in that it really looked more like a vulva than an arsehole. By this time my cock was nearly as large as it is now, notwithstanding it entered up to the hilt without difficulty, and I used to fuck him most deliciously. It is a curious fact that he liked to be the recipient, and to be frigged by me at the same time. Although he got into my arsehole a few times it was merely from curiosity; his letch was to be fucked and frigged. While at college together this quite satisfied us, and we never sought the dangerous intercourse of the strumpets of the town, and so avoided the horrible diseases that so many of our fellow students suffered from, many for all their lives after. For years this agreeable intercourse lasted, and was only cut short by my exile. + +"Meanwhile, on my return home for the vacation, I had not forgotten Sister Bridget, and longed intensely to renew my acquaintance with her. I easily discovered her abode; meeting her one day she scowled at me, and turned off in another direction. But I found out she had a favourite walk in a lonely direction. I hid myself until she approached too near to get away, seized her hand, implored her to forgive the folly of a mere boy, who had ever regretted his ignorant stupidity, but who was now a man, and longed to prove his devotion to her. Here I had unbuttoned my trousers with the other hand, and pulled out a very fair prick, at full stand. + +"'There!' cried I, 'see how the recollection of the paradise I lost grieves him to the heart, let the poor dumb creature plead for me.' + +"I placed the hand I held upon it, she grasped it tightly-- + +"'O! Fernandino, I always loved you, and but for your indiscretion should have had you all myself for months.' I threw my arms round her neck, our mouths met in a loving kiss, her tongue darted fire into my soul. I drew her, a willing participator, into some side bushes. She sank on the ground, her legs fell apart; I lifted her petticoats, her rich fleece and palpitating cunt were irresistible, I flung myself upon her, I gamahuched her until she spent twice, and then fucked her three times before I withdrew. I would willingly have continued the delicious junction, but that she implored me for prudence' sake to rise. We parted, but not before arranging for other meetings, which took place in woods and barns, wherever most convenient. Her protector going for a week to Turin during one of my vacations, I was admitted to her room at night by climbing the roof of an outhouse, and then stark naked we indulged in every excess. She was hot and lewd to the utmost, a splendidly made woman, with an insatiable cunt when once our sports began. She was, as I before mentioned, most hairy, had a well-developed clitoris, and fucked with as much pleasure in the rear attack as in her tight delicious throbbing cunt. She loved above all things to gamahuche a prick, sucked it most charmingly, but with greater art licked around the hollow below the nut, and down the under side of the prick, with an occasional lick of the ballocks, all in so exciting a manner that no matter how often I had fucked her, she was sure to get another and another. This charming intrigue continued until I went to Turin. + +"During my connection with Sister Bridget I learnt the whole history of her convent life. She was forced to take the veil by her family, much against her will, for she even then felt the prickly sensation of desire, making her cunt throb at the idea of coition with the male sex. She quickly found a friend with similar desires, but more experience, who first taught her all the art of tribadism, and then confessed to having connection with the youngest father confessor. This priest came once a week to confess the nuns, to confess their liaison, and to let him inflict what penalty he liked. He told her he would flog her, and then punish her where she sinned, which, in fact, meant putting his prick into her cunt when in a kneeling position. This sort of thing was done to see if she took it in with gusto, and when it was found that was the case, their hour of confession was a scene of every excess, stark naked, for neither wore aught but the frock of monk or nun. This delicious indulgence lasted until the dissolution of the convent, and you know the rest." + +Another recital of the Count much amused us. The Count was admitted at seventeen into the Royal Guard, where each private was born a gentleman, and held the rank of sub-lieutenant in the army. Here he had many intrigues, and took the maidenhead of a charming and beautifully made girl, who was being brought up for the stage as an opera dancer, for which she showed early capacity. She proved a great success when brought forward. She dearly loved our friend, and was supposed to be faithful to him, although she had developed excessive wantonness and lubricity under his able tuition. His flight and exile separated them. + +Years afterwards he met a lovely, magnificent, fully developed woman, splendidly attired, walking in the Regent's Park, He did not recognise her, but was looking at her with longing eyes, when suddenly she seized him by the arm, and exclaimed in the patois of Piedmont, "Ces tu si! Buzaron." (Is that thou thyself, Buzaron). This latter word is a familiar expression of carnal affection, but, literally, is "big bugger." + +Their intercourse became of the warmest, she was now a first-rate _danseuse_, very highly paid. + +The Count had first had her, she really loved him, and in London stuck faithfully to him, for love alone, for she never would accept even the smallest present. She, of course, had plenty of splendid offers from noblemen, but as long as the Count would have her she was faithful to him. When, which a knowing woman's tact senses, she saw a falling off, she released him, and, although never refusing her person to him, took to others as well. She was a very lovely bird, and used to relate the erotic experiences of her previous years. Many of these were most amusing, but one in especial showed the ardent nature of her temperament. She had accepted, when dancing at Genoa, an eligible offer from the Lisbon Opera proprietors, and had to take passage on an Italian brig; she was the only passenger, and her berth was in the same open cabin as that of the captain and mate. On the second day out the captain showed signs of wishing to have her. She was already longing for a fuck, to which she had been daily habituated on shore, so she lent herself most willingly to his desires; from him to the mate, and eventually to all the ship's company, without any jealousy of captain or mate; for the system in those days made captain and crew all equally interested in the success of the voyage from the terms of their agreement. + +The captain, mate and carpenter were owners of the vessel. The crew of a boatswain and four picked men received food, mostly dried fish, but no wages. They were entitled to a certain share of the profits of the voyage, and thus were interested in its success, and on very different terms of intimacy with the captain to what ordinary sailors could be. + +The voyage lasted six weeks, and during all that time she had every man in the ship into her every day, and from fair front-fucking had eventually satisfied them in both apertures, and often had had one in each orifice, and sucked a third to spending point, which she deliciously swallowed; she had even taken the _premisses_ of the little twelve-year-old cabin boy, and she declared that she never enjoyed so complete a satisfaction of her excessive lascivious lust as in that happy voyage of six weeks' duration. + + +The Count, who had split his sides with laughter as she recounted this extraordinary indulgence in every enjoyment of lust, related in the amusing patois of Piedmont, told us that notwithstanding such excessive indulgence in both orifices, and by pricks, many of which were of immense dimensions, not the slightest appearance of such ample stretching could be detected on the closest examination, and that in either orifice she could almost nip your prick off. One of those exceptional constitutions and splendid forms that no excess injures, and who are ready for any number of pricks and reducing them all to inanition, while she remained as ready as ever to recommence the utmost excess of lust as soon as any one set had exhausted themselves. + +As a sequel to the Count's confessions, I shall here give my adored wife's account of her early life in the form of a narrative, for when it was told to me it was interrupted by various lustful encounters produced by the lascivious and exciting nature of her revelations. + +She was the daughter of a Greek mother, married to a high clergyman of the Church of England, a man of great erudition, who had taken the highest honours at Oxford. When Fellow of his college he was tutor to a great nobleman's son, had travelled for years with him, and hence his wide acquaintance with the languages of modern Europe. In Greece he had fallen over head and ears in love with her mother, had tried to seduce her, and, failing that, married her. He was a man of most lustful propensities, her mother was of a beauty most attractive and exciting to such a man, having lustrous and most lustful eyes, extraordinary wealth of hair, which when undone reached to her heels; thick and meeting eyebrows, and a well-defined moustache, all enough to drive a sensualist like her father mad. So failing all other means to have her, he married her, and, as far as she could afterwards learn from him, was in all voluptuously lewd, carnal acquirements, every thing the wildest imagination of lust could desire. It was from her mother she inherited all that deliciously haired body, and from both parents her intensely lascivious passions. She lost her mother just as she had attained her eighth year. During her mother's life she had generally crept into their bed in the mornings to have a cuddle, and had often been a witness to the fucking of her mother by her father, and had, at other times, played with his prick until it stood, and even made him spend with her toyings. She owned to a sense of sensual gratification in this, but at that early age without any idea of the possibility of its being put into her. She always accompanied papa to his bath, and he invariably dried her and finished by kissing her mount and her cunt, and without tongueing it. + +After her mother's death he always had her to sleep the whole night with him, and when in her ninth year he had commenced by gamahuching her clitoris, which even at that early age he declared gave promise of exceeding in projection the fine one with which her mother had been provided. + +In this manner he soon awakened all the latent lubricity of her nature. Afraid to force an entrance at that early age, after exciting both her and himself, he used to rub his great prick between the lips of her cunt, and against her clitoris, until worked up to spending point, when he transferred his prick to her mouth, and spent therein, he having taught her to practise that voluptuous and delicious method. + +It was naturally impossible to stop short _dans un tel beau chemin_, and it ended by his first getting the knob of his prick into her small tight slit and spending there, gradually forcing his way further and further in, until she, driven mad by such excitement, felt the utmost desire to have it into the deepest recess of her longing cunt, and begged him to shove it in harder and further. + +With such a spur to his passions, unable to control himself, he burst through all obstacles, and completely deflowered her, giving her greater agony than she expected, which was subsequently completely alleviated and converted into the most exquisite sensations. Once he had fairly fucked her, he continued to do so constantly until the age of puberty, which declared itself by the coming-on of her monthly courses even before she was twelve years of age. Already an extensive moss-bed of sable silky short curls adorned her mount and body. + +At this period her father told her he must take precautions against getting her with child; at first he drew out and spent in her mouth, which she dearly loved, but becoming lewd on her bottom-hole, which he constantly fingered, he declared it was too much derangement of position to get it into her mouth, and suggested merely driving the knob into the arse-hole, and spending therein, which he could do by her merely heaving up her arsehole as high as her cunt had been, and so entering without any change of position on his or her part. Of course it soon came from the knob only to the utmost length of his prick in her arse, and gradually she came so to like it that often the entire encounter of three or four coups was delivered in her arsehole to her infinite satisfaction; and thus her father enjoyed the first fruits of every aperture in her body. + +He it was that instructed her so deeply in classic literature as well as modern languages, but always choosing such lewd works to carry out her education, such as Meursius and Suetonius in Latin, Athenaeus with his supper conversations in Greek, especially drawing her attention to his chapter on boy love, Boccaccio and Casti in Italian, the uncastrated editions, the adventures of Casanova, and the hundreds of other French bawdy books, with the most exciting illustrations of all these works and many others besides. The lecture on them always led to good fucking in one aperture or the other, practising the particular description that excited their lewdness. + +He thus depraved her mind that she soon longed for other experiences than all he could give, and she cast about for an _aide-du-con_. This she first found in their young and handsome footman, who proved not only discreet, but completely up to his work, and uncommonly well furnished. + +They occupied in every voluptuous excess the hours papa had to attend to the extensive and rich parish of which he was the rector. I must tell the rest in her own words; she said-- + +"Continued immunity in our excesses led to excessive in-cautiousness, and caused the discovery of our intrigue by my father, who appeared shocked and distressed at the discovery, but he was quickly reconciled, as it ended in his having the youth himself, and his introduction into our incestuous orgies, in which he both fucked and was fucked by my father when not giving me the exquisite delight of having both together. And for five or six years I had but these two charming satisfiers of my lust. + +"At this period a beautiful youth of fourteen, the son of a younger brother of my father, and, consequently, my first cousin, came to live with us. He was an orphan, left by his mother under the guardianship of my father. I was some three years his senior and he took to me as an elder sister, was very loving in that character only, and used to embrace and kiss me most affectionately. I, for my own part, soon began to have other feelings. + +"On his first arrival, in grief at the loss of his only surviving parent, he feared to go to bed alone, so I used to accompany him, and help to undress him. He was all innocence, his mother, up to her recent death, had done the same, so he had no _mauvaise honte_, and I helped off his shirt and helped on his night-gown, and even witnessed his diddling before he got into bed, which I tucked him in and kissed him before leaving. + +"Of course with my then complete knowledge and practice of every art of lust, I could not but look for and discover all his secret charms, then always in a state of repose, but promising a future development. I grew lewd upon him one morning, after an orgy with papa and the footman, who had not altogether satisfied me. I was tempted to go along to my cousin Henry, to waken and cuddle him, knowing that he would probably awaken with a cockstand, as usual with youths, and even men. + +"I slipt along, and at once saw, as I expected, for only partially covered with the sheet, the prominence of his prick was unmistakable. I gently removed the sheet, and was delighted to see that his instrument, insignificant enough when down, was of a very respectable volume when erect, and quite capable of giving any woman perfect satisfaction from its excessive hardness. I gently took it in my hand to feel it, it throbbed at the touch, and felt like a piece of wood in hardness, with a velvet covering. + +"I got into his bed by his side without awakening him, taking care to pull up my chemise so as to let him feel the contact of my bare skin. I pulled the sheet over us, took him in my arms, and woke him with a kiss. + +"He was surprised and delighted at finding me by his side, but as yet had no idea but that of cuddling and caressing me. In throwing my arms around him I had taken care to pull his night-gown up to his loins, so that his naked body pressed against mine as we embraced. + +"In apparent surprise I cried out what is that pressing so hard against my body; at the same time moving my hand and laying hold of it. It throbbed violently to the touch. I threw the sheet off to see what it could be. + +"'Dear me,' said I, 'how is this? What a change! it was not like that when I put you to bed last night. How has it become in this strange state?' + +"'It is so, dear cousin, when I want to pee in the morning, and goes down afterwards.' + +"'Then jump up and pee, and I want to do the same.' + +"He took the pot and piddled. I took another and piddled, standing with legs wide apart, and holding the chamber pot partly between and partly under my thighs, so that he could perfectly see the whole of my cunt, and the flow of water from it. + +"He stared with astonishment; it was really the first time he had any knowledge that women were differently formed down there than he was. + +"'How funny,' cried he, 'you piddle from a chink, and have no doodle. I should like to see it nearer.' + +"I told him I should lie down on my back on the bed, and he could look as much as he pleased, but he must never tell any body what he would see, because it was a great secret. + +"He promised, of course. I lay down on my back, having first thrown off my chemise, stretched wide my legs, told him he would see better if he knelt between my legs, some slight distance from the object to be seen. + +"He got up and began a close examination, admiring the immense quantity of hair I had already got, opened the lips, caressed what he called the little doodle, my clitoris, which was rampant with lewdness. I told him to feel inside with his middle finger; he pushed it up--I nipped it, to his astonishment, so that he could hardly withdraw it. Nature, unknown to him, acted her part; his cock, which had gone down after piddling, stood stiffer than ever. I laid hold of it, and said-- + +"'How comes this, Henry? You can't want to piddle again.' + +"'No, no, but I feel queer all over, I don't know why, and it seems to have raised my doodle as you see.' + +"'If you will keep it secret I will show how it comes about.' + +"He promised that he would never, never, tell any thing I should teach him. So I said-- + +"'Come to my arms, lie down on my belly, and I will teach you. There that is it.' + +"His cock beat fiercely against my cunt. I passed my hand down, guided it into my longing cunt, then placing my hands on his buttocks pressed down and forced his charming shaft up to the hairs of my longing cunt, foaming with my father's and the footman's sperm, so that he slipped in with the greatest ease; but no sooner was he hilted than one of my exquisite cunt-pressures made him cry out with unexpected pleasure, while I spent with the delicious conviction that I was enjoying the first fruits of a beautiful youth. I told him how to move in and out, nature did the rest the moment he knew what to do. A very few thrusts brought down his first tribute on the altar in the exquisite recess of Venus, the voluptuous goddess of love. I joined in the delicious discharge. + +"Once experiencing the joys of coition the dear boy fucked me five times before I could get him to withdraw, and it was only the fear of discovery that induced him at last to get off me. We had a delicious cuddle, and I promised to come every morning I could do so with safety. Impressing upon him the absolute necessity of secrecy and caution, if he wished to have any repetition of the delightful lesson I had given him, I returned to my room gratified beyond measure in having taken a maiden tribute. Women who have the luck of such good fortune alone know the exquisite delight of initiating a virgin prick into love's mysteries and our longing cunts. + +"We carried on this delicious intercourse for months before it was discovered, but use begets want of caution, and my father at last discovered it. Poor Henry thought himself happily excused by allowing my wanton parent to take possession of his bottom while fucking me. My warm embraces enabling him to support the great and curious pain and pleasure attending a first penetration of that delicious narrow aperture, dedicated to the obscene god. It ended in his complete initiation into our orgies with the footman. His addition to the orgy enabling more complex and lustful combinations than two men and a woman alone could indulge in. + +"My father, who lived quite up to his income, died and left me with a very small capital at his death, which happened after the coming of age of my cousin Henry, to whom I had become violently attached. Indeed, it was my first love, and had all the devotion and ardour of that passion. He had a small independence, and we lived together for two years after my father's death, secretly sleeping together. + +"The interference of relatives who, without suspecting our real sensual intercourse, preached upon what the world would say, &c., induced me to undertake a governesship, for which the great instruction I had received from my papa more than fully qualified me. I saw the reasonableness of this, and also thought it was more likely to strengthen Henry's love than otherwise. But the parting was a great trial. He had grown a fine man, with a superb prick, although far inferior to this monster," laying hold of mine at the moment standing stiff and wanting but her touch to make me bend her back and fuck her off hand, so exciting had been her recital. + +She resumed after this episode, by saying her system of teaching was eminently successful. From time to time she was comforted by interviews with her loved Henry, besides satisfying the lust of both the father and sons of the families she lived with, teaching and taking the maidenheads of several youths, but in none receiving the gratification her loved Henry had given her, until, as she flatteringly said, she had the good fortune to enter our family and find such a jewel as I possessed. + +She had occasionally found girls of such a warm temperament that she was induced to initiate them into the art of gamahuchery. It was in this character of instructress that she had first used the rod to the bottoms of her pupils, and it was seeing the erotic effect produced on them as recipients that first gave her the letch of being herself birched. After this she had had a vast variety of youths, fathers of families, and old worn-out patients, whom she birched into action. + +From one situation to another she had arrived at ours; since which time I knew all her doings. + +The Count's son and my daughter meanwhile grew up to puberty. We watched their progress with great interest. They were both initiated in all love's delicious mysteries by their respective parents. + +My lovely little Florentia, for we christened her in my adored wife's name Italianized, which became familiarly Entee, was a great comfort to us. From childhood she always came to cuddle us in bed before we rose. She was so beautifully made that we used to strip her naked and kiss her whole body, which always gained my dear wife an extra fuck, especially after she reached her tenth year, when her form was rapidly developing into puberty. Being from infancy familiar and accustomed to be always stript by us, she had no shyness; indeed she became so exciting that often I grew rampant and fucked my dear wife while she was present. She grew to like to see us do it, and used to play with my big cock, and bring him up to the scratch. It ended as it was sure to end, in my gradually toying with her from one excitement to another, until she was completely fucked in her thirteenth year. + +Ten years after that epoch I lost my beloved wife, and would have been quite inconsolable but for the sympathizing endearments of this darling child, who became so necessary to my existence that twelve months after my adored wife's decease I married her. She was a perfect Italian beauty, and no one supposed she was other than an orphan adopted by my late wife. + +Now, in my old age, she is the comfort of my life and the mother of my beautiful son, whom we have named Charley Nixon, in memory of both my first adored wife and my guardian, through whom he will inherit great wealth. The dear little fellow is now eighteen years of age, handsome, well grown, and very well furnished, although not so monstrous in that way as his father. His dear mother has initiated him in every delight, and he has all the fire of lust that his old father had before him. He often comes to us at night, indeed, it is the only thing that enables me from time to time to get a cockstand and a fuck at his mother. To see them in all the agonies of lust, fucking furiously before my delighted eyes, so excites me now and then, for, alas, it has come to be a gratification few and far between. But occasionally to suck up his young sperm after the excitement of their love combat produces a stiffness for my beautiful wife to mount upon me and then have our charming son to put his prick into her bottom for this, too, is necessary to my failing vigour, and the contact of his vigorous young prick against the thin filmy substance separating us feels as nothing. I am long in spending, and his delighted mother gets two and sometime three delicious discharges in her arse before my lazy prick deluges her cunt with my incestuous sperm. + +We are thus a happy family, bound by the strong ties of double incestuous lust. It is necessary to have these loved objects to fall back upon, for alas! all the earlier partakers of my prick are now dead and gone. Aunt and uncle, the Dales, the Nichols, my beloved Benson, and her friends the Egertons. + +I have already mentioned the Count's death, and both my sisters have left me alone, and I should have been a dreary and solitary old man but for my beloved wife and son, who solace me and replace the void in my heart I should otherwise have so sadly felt. + + +I shall here end this long tale of my erotic life. + +A curious event has happened lately, the divorce of a Mr. Cavendish from his wife for adultery with the young Count de la Rouchefoucalt. The details brought before the court were of the most scandalous nature, especially the letters exchanged between them when the Count had to go to Rome, where he was attaché to the French Embassy. When the husband's counsel handed up the letters with the sworn notary's translation, he remarked that he thought they were too horribly scandalous to be read in court. The judge scanned a few of them, and, addressing the counsel said-- + +"I am perfectly of your opinion, my learned brother, I shall take them home and make a point of them in my address to the jury." + +It will be seen that they were of such a nature that doubtless the old judge, who was no other than my dear old chum Harry Dale, gave his wife two or three extra fucks on the strength of the lust produced by those exciting and extraordinary lascivious letters from a young man of only twenty-one years of age, showing quite as early an initiation into all the luxury of the utmost depravity as any of my own details of my early experiences with my darling old aunt. + +Some of the letters are a string of imaginary events as to how far they could carry their imaginations. The Count constantly alludes to the inferiority of his descriptions to those given in her replies. Alas! as he possesses those exciting replies of the lady, they cannot be got at, but from his descriptions, and the remarks on certain gross familiarities, it's evident she was gifted with as lascivious and lustful a temperament as either my aunt or the divine Frankland. + +A chance threw these interesting letters into my possession, and I can assure the reader they are the veritable sworn translations of the letters found in Mrs. Cavendish's davenport when it was broken open by her husband, and produced on the trial. The Count had evidently dreaded such an event, and it will be seen he constantly implores her to destroy his letters as soon as read. But, with the infatuation of her sex, she kept them to furnish the sole evidence by which she lost her place in society and became a lost woman. It is added that she was a woman of forty-five, and the mother of several children, but it is these randy voluptuous matrons who have the most attractions to a young man who feels flattered and is proud of, as he thinks, conquering a woman in a good position in society. It is evident enough that she was no tyro in every depravity of lust, and probably had passed through many hands before he gained her. He appears to have been really cunt-struck, which, as I have before observed, is one of the strongest infatuations that a man can have. + + +END OF VOLUME IV. + + +ADDENDA + + +LETTERS + +PRODUCED IN THE DIVORCE-CASE + +CAVENDISH + +_v_. + +CAVENDISH AND ROCHEFOUCAULT. + + +Rome, _Saturday_ + +_August 6th, 1859, 10 o'clock_. + +I tried last night, my angel, to write you a half sheet, but it was as much as I could do to read your letter a second time, and it was only by making a great effort that I was able to write a few lines. However, this morning I will try and continue, in order to reward you, not for that one which you have deprived me of from pique, but for those bewitching ones which I have lately received. + +I have just received your letter 17, begun August 3rd, 11 o'clock at night, and bless you for the idea of addressing it to Pal. B., it is infinitely preferable, and there is no fear of any risk ("indiscretion" in original) either now or later. + +I am delighted when I think of the pleasure you derived from what I sent you the other day. I only decided upon it in fear and trembling. I do not understand what you mean by letter direct to Albert. If you do not send it per Embassy bag I should not have it here till Monday; you would have done much better to have put it in the parcel. All last night I slept very badly, no doubt in consequence of a presentiment I had that I should not receive a half sheet, and that you were annoyed at my going to Albano, and I thought of a mass of things as disagreeable as they are painful. Of your birthday, for instance, the 1st of October, which will be an opportunity for II * [* II stands for her husband] to make you a present in return for the set of studs which you gave him on his birthday, when you, no doubt, will give him something. + +As to your brown cloak which II gave you, &c. &c., I request that on your birthday when he makes you his usual present, whatever it may be, you accept it and say, "I thank you," and, without even looking at it, put it upon the table, immediately speak of something else, and when he has left the room, put it away out of sight without ever speaking of it again, or appearing to know what has become of it. + +I have just been interrupted for an hour and a half by M. de Fiennes--very agreeable is it not? You must forgive me if I am unable to write to you at length; what I have said to you above is for the future, but the past is over since he has those studs. I forbid you to give him something in future, unless you cannot possibly do otherwise; and, in that case, you must give cigarettes or anything which does not last. I will see what is to be done about your shawl, was it not II who gave it to you? Thanks, my treasure, to walk so far from II; it is so good of you to give up to me that walk, which I hate when you take it with him. + +Ah! new projects again, but let us hope these will be the last, how I pity you. You were so well you told me two days ago, and now you are already obligated to take some powders--it is II system. Nice health you seem to have; you have good reason for believing that the regimen you have hitherto followed is a good one, it succeeds so well! Poor darling I can comprehend how uncomfortable these frequent agitations must make you. I suffer from them so often myself. + +I will make you some drawings later. I have not the time to-day. Those uncertainties of your mother are terrible. Oh, yes, I am in despair at that departure, particularly before my lot is decided, and knowing, as I do, that you are unhappy. But, my child, do not fear to let it be known in every direction that you cannot endure II, and that you have taken a disgust to him. Do not hesitate to give the true reasons when you refuse to do anything, simply, "Yes, or No, the hand, but with ........... it is not necessary. I can dispense with it, nothing of that sort is necessary." And then, when that has produced the desired effect, add, "We can only live under the same roof upon those conditions, for sooner would I go away altogether than that it should be otherwise." Speak in this manner; it won't answer very well at first perhaps; but he will soon get accustomed to it, "How do you do?" in the morning, and "Good night," at night. Then gradually get into the way of saying "Mr. C." when talking of, or speaking to him. You may be told it is not the custom. Answer you don't care, it is not the custom to be such an idiot as he is. Ah, you are too sad, poor child, all that is charming, and all our superstitions. Moreover, one must think of what has been, not of what will be, and compare it with what is. The progress is very delightful and consoling. + +Do not be unhappy about my horse, he did not go very well, and then I do not care about driving in a carriage when you are on foot. + +I have made two drawings, one prettier than the other, and I have had a copious emission. + +Mrs. S. has made no tentative overtures towards me. She is often that way inclined, and with everybody. Be calm then; but, after all, you are perfectly so, only you pretend to be otherwise. God bless you for speaking so often of your pretty rose-coloured silk stockings. I like them so much, and adore you for wearing _them_, although it is not the custom, above all in the day time. Doubtless it is very coquettish, pretty, and wondrously exciting. Even only to think of them gives me an erection. And that rice powder! how divine you must look. It is to be hoped that the powder in your hair will not give ideas to II and embolden him--take care. Thanks for thinking so often of me, my idolized angel. Adieu, my good, my best treasure, I love and embrace you tenderly. I will have my revenge, for I, too, had prepared a half sheet, but will not send it till to-morrow. + + +Rome, _Saturday, for Sunday's Post_ + +_August 6th, 1859, 2 o'clock_. + +I wish to give you a little surprise, my own dear little darling, in sending you this letter, which you will receive with a half sheet upon which you had not reckoned on Tuesday morning, so as to supply the place of Sunday's post. It was to give you this little surprise, and in no way of retaliation, that I did not send a half sheet in my letter of this morning. It was very unkind of you not to send yours upon the pretext that I was at Albano, but you will have been ashamed of it since. Besides, even supposing that I had been there, I should not have committed any indiscretion with your envelopes, which are so excellent, and, if one had felt inclined to do so, your letter was sufficient to make me indifferent to it. I suspect you of not having prepared what is necessary, I shall be sure to see if it be so; to-morrow's letter ought to contain two. I continue your letter 17, and I perceive with rapture that you have had a thick cream-like emission of enjoyment. How delicious it would be in my tea. How I should like to send you some like it also. It is a good thing that my letter to the little girl was successful. Will you tell Madame de Delmar that I am sorry to hear that she is suffering, particularly as her ordinarily detestable disposition only becomes more thick and more execrable. Suppress this latter part if you think it better. + +Ah! you think that Madame Salvi has played her cards well and in what way, I ask? You are too bad, too implacable. I do not like that in you. I have told you that your suspicions wounded me, and I think you can believe me when I tell you that I have completely changed my conduct in that respect. Besides, what can I possibly do. I am very uncomfortable here. The Abdol don't want me; besides, the Duke has given me to understand that I ought occasionally to go and see his wife, and the Borgh bother me with all their children. + +Thanks, my good angel, for the letter Des Pierre. If it be decided that you leave, I shall go for a few days to Civita--sad and mournful consolation. Why do you tell me that you will go barefooted when I go to see you. I am quite of your opinion that your feet are only too delicious. The costume rather disgusted me than otherwise, without, however, producing any effect upon me. To-morrow I shall pay the Duchess de Grano a visit, and since it seems to put you out, shall not return again to Albano. + +Heaven knows that the pleasure is not great, and that I care very little for it. The other day I did not even find it any cooler there. The Duchess of St. Alban's leaves on the 20th for Schwalback and England on account of the apprehensions about war--another subject of uneasiness for me--such is life. I can go and live with the Duchess de Grano and Salvi. No one would say anything about the one, and not much about the other, whatever you yourself might say, but that annoys me exceedingly, and disgusts me, and I dare not do so with you. You might, however, have been my ambassadress, see what it is to be so seductive, so graceful, so pretty, so kind and gentle. Just fancy, dearest, that I have not answered Madame Rudiger. I must really do so to-day. She is a person one must be careful with. + +I have always this phrase before my eyes. "I prepared a divine half sheet yesterday evening, but dare not send it!" Very agreeable, and very kind of you! well, I do not complain. + +They have been so heavenly during the last three days, and mine are so shameful. How nice it is for me to think that I should have sufficient influence over you to get you to sit perfectly naked at my table. Long ago might you have had that influence over me, and even have enforced requirements more depraved, and more degrading than that if you had wished it, and with what rapture! Adieu, my angel, what a happiness to give you this trifling pleasure. + + +When I shall have undressed my adorable little mistress it will be nine o'clock, she will be mad with desire, delirious from passion and rapturous exactions (exigencies), her maddening look exciting me in the highest degree will arouse all the strength I possess, and enable me to exhaust her so completely that she herself will attain the height of happiness; the greater the refinement and delicacy of my caresses the greater will be your happiness, the more languishing will your eyes become, the more will your pretty mouth unclose itself, the more will your tongue become agitated, the more will your bosoms, firm and soft as velvet, become distended, and their nipples grow large, red, and appetizing; then will your arms grow weaker and then will your angelic legs open themselves in a voluptuous manner, and then seeing ourselves reflected on all sides in the mirrors, shall I take you in my arms in order to excite you (_branler_, frig) with my hand, whilst your little rosy fingers will similarly excite me with vigour, and I shall suck your divine nipples with passion. When the agitation of your little legs, of your lovely little bottom (_derrière_), of your head, and those murmurs of pleasure (_rugissements_) prove to me that you are at the point of emission, I shall stop and carry you to a piece of furniture made to sustain your head, your back, your bottom, and your legs, and having near your cunt (_con_) an opening sufficiently wide to allow my body to pass erect between your legs; then shall I fuck (_enfiler_) you with frenzy with my enormous and long member, which will penetrate to the mouth of your womb; being squeezed by your pretty legs, which will bring me closer to you, I shall wriggle (_remuerai_) my strong pretty member, which you love, with more vigour than ever; my private parts (_organes mâles_, testicles) will touch your little bottom, and this contact will provoke such an abundant flow of the essence of love in your little cunt that I shall be as if I were in a bath. + +How I fear to leave off there! But we shall see. Do not write to me by the night post, it is useless! It is true that when I am near you in a carriage I have difficulty in remaining quiet. Oh, no, do not alarm me by your insatiability, mine is much greater than yours, there is not the slightest comparison to be drawn between us in a physical point of view, but as far as our moral nature and heart is concerned we can rival each other, and I am very happy on that account. + +1:40. I was most annoyingly interrupted by the luncheon bell, and afterwards I played a game of Fourreau (a game all the fashion at Verteuil), and here I am again. I have just refused to accompany my father and mother in a drive in the neighbourhood, so that I shall be able to write to you more at length, unless, indeed, I write to Fallenay. + + +You tell me that you like the little costume, but that is all you say, and you give me no details as to the colours, the length and shape. I will believe my treasure, my jewel, that your bosoms will be white, swollen and soft as velvet, and it is very nice of you to tell me that my hands will have difficulty in holding them and putting their ruby lips to my mouth. + +You are quite right in saying that you will develop my virility, it is you who have made my member what it is now. I repeat, on my word of honour, perhaps you will not like to hear these details, but, nevertheless, I shall say it, you are the first woman in the world who has stimulated that essence which flows from my prick (_queue_), which your kisses have rendered so pretty, and it is you who have plucked the flower of my virginity. Never have I had (_baisé_) any other woman, and whatever may be the misfortunes to which I may be destined, it will always be an immense and ineffable happiness to me to think that I have given and lost it through the luscious draughts you offer (_par tes délices_). It is, and it will be, perhaps, the greatest blessing, and the only consolation of my life. But before God it is a great one, and my enjoyment has not been such as one can expect to find in this world. I do not believe that he who had the madness to rob you of yours was as pure as myself, and as for voluptuous pleasures, if there be any greater than that which I know, I promise you never to learn or seek it, although I don't require this at your hands. I do not wish to have any other woman spoken of, they all disgust me, even to look at them. You know it, and you know that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, in you to disgust me, but all that belongs to you maddens me, and I love and adore all; it has become a madness, and you know it; for when you are kind you give at least the idea by letter of that which you would not do if you had the slightest doubt. + +You know that I have sucked you between the legs at those delicious moments when you made water, or when you had your monthly courses, and that my happiness will be complete when you will allow me, and when circumstances will allow you, to let me lick (_passer la langue_) at that ineffable moment when your little love of a jewel of a bottom has just relieved itself. In you every thing appears different and pure, the purity which reigns in your every feature, the excess of refinement which exists in your whole body, your hands, your feet, your legs, your cunt, your bottom, the hairs of your private parts, all is appetizing, and I know that the same purity exists in all my own desires for you. As much as the odour of women is repugnant to me in general, the more do I like it in you. I beg of you to preserve that intoxicating perfume... but you are too clean, you wash yourself too much. I have often told you so in vain. When you will be quite my own, I shall forbid you to do so too often, at most once a day. My tongue and my saliva shall do the rest. + +If it is necessary let the doctor cauterize you (_toucher_), that is to say with his instrument, and mind he does not fall in love with you; I bet he has never before seen anything so seducing, so pretty, or so perfect. It is to be hoped that the irritation does not proceed from the size of my member. + +You did quite right to go to the play, and I regret sincerely to have spoilt the pleasure you had in going, it shall not happen again. + +As to the place George had, that is perfectly indifferent to me. + +Ah! you think that the portrait was done afterwards. You are not sure of it, but it is a matter of no moment, my much loved one. I shall not be the less happy to have the photograph if you are good enough to give it to me, not too much in miniature. I shall be very grateful for it. + +If I said that Galitzin was clever, I was wrong; he has a kind heart, and is very fond of me. Now that he has lost his mother, I shall be more kind to him. He is a person one can depend upon; his letters are silly productions. Those Russians have always the imagination easily excited. + +Yes, my father has always the same answer. Thanks for your obliging offer of gloves, my mother must settle about it. + + +I shall still have lavished the following caresses upon you, angel of my delight, were I a little calmer. I had a dream, such as it was, about it last night, and only remember it just now by way of explanation of my mad excitement of this morning. I saw you as I was asleep, you were by my side frigging me with your fingers of love, and you heard me say to you, "I see you there." You are as lovely as Venus, your lusciousness and lasciviousness are at their very height, your body is completely perfumed with your urine, in which I forced you to bath yourself for my enjoyment, so that I might lick you. You have painted the most seductive parts of your person. Your shoulders are white, your rosy bosoms reveal themselves through a rose-coloured gauze, trimmed with bows of the same hue. Your thighs, as well as your navel and your heavenly bottom, are revealed through a heavenly gauze, your legs are clad in rose-coloured stockings. The sperm flows; but how much I needed it! This is true, for my testicles were swollen in an alarming manner. + + +Oh, my child, my pretty little mistress, if you only knew how much I suffer from the excessive heat, and the privation in which I live! Without exaggeration, my testicles are enormous. My member is as large, straight, and stiff as my arm. I am mad from desire for you. I had the unhappy idea of going to bed again. My mind was full of a dream I had had, and of which you were, of course, the subject. Then I thought of the caresses which you would have been obliged to submit to, and at last, in consequence of your yesterday's half sheet, so pretty at the beginning and at the end, but yet quite beside the question, and found myself engaged in the act of rubbing myself with frenzy, and of stroking myself and of frigging my prick (_la pine_) until I was exhausted, before I could discharge the merest drop; that was too much for me, and now I desire you like a mad man. If a delicious half sheet does not arrive by the Embassy bag, I know not what will become of me. I have had an emission. I am saved. I shall feel myself so relieved. You have forbidden my going with other women. You are determined that I shall not have a discharge with any one but yourself, and that I have fucked (_baisé_) no one but you. Oh! how I must love you. + + +It is two o'clock in the morning, I have violated and well worked you, kissed, frigged, licked, and sucked you obliged you to yield to my desires, the most debauched, the most shamelessly degrading during the whole of the afternoon. All the afternoon, too, I have got you to suck my member and my testicles. I have made you pass your tongue between my toes and under my arms. I have compelled you to paint your body, to drink my urine. I was almost on the point of getting you sucked and licked by a pretty Lorette, perfectly naked, between your legs, and to make you piss into her cunt in order to make the depravation more debased than ever. I have had discharges from jealously. I have discharged at least forty times; and when, after having left you to go to my club, I returned home, and finding you fast asleep from exhaustion, I awakened you and insisted upon your frigging me with your rosy fingers, all the while licking my several parts. You implore me. You are wearied, but I am intractable. You must do it in order to excite you as much as I am myself excited. I suck your breast with frenzy. The sucking that I have given your bosoms, and the fear you have lest I should fetch a young girl to violate you with her breasts in your cunt, filling your womb with her milk, excite your senses, and then you hear a voice whose sound alone so pleasingly tickles your womb, saying to you, "My pretty mistress, I implore you to abandon your (?) to me. I will love you so fondly. I will be too kind and gentle, I am so handsome, I will do all you can possibly wish. I know so well how to have and suck a woman, my member is enormous, it is beautiful, rose-coloured, large, long, hard and vigorous. Yield yourself to me." + +Tell me if you like this one. + + +When you are ready you will call me so that I may come and say my daily "How do you do?" You will begin by taking my----out of my trousers, then half opening your gown, you will lift up your pretty chemise with one hand, and will pass your other arm, soft as satin, round my neck. I shall embrace you tenderly, then I shall lick your snow-white shoulders, your bosoms, which seem to be bursting from the imprisonment of your rose-coloured stays embroidered with lace. I shall lick between your legs, over your divine little bottom, your nymph-like thighs being at that moment on my knees; then you will place your angelic little feet, with your stockings on, one after the other in my mouth. After this you will send me into the dining-room, in order to get rid of the servants, and, by this time, filled with an amorous and impassioned languor, each of your movements breathing forth the frenzy and voluptuousness of passion, you will come and join me. There will be only one chair, and the table will be laid for only one person. We shall each of us have only one hand free, I the right, and you the left; then you will sit upon my left leg, which you have found the means to make naked; you will have unfastened your gown in such a way that it will hang down behind, and your right hand will caress and stroke my enormous prick, which you will have taken between your legs without putting it into your angelic cunt, whilst my left arm will wind itself round your lovely waist in order to bring you still nearer to me. + +After breakfast, which will have lasted till half-past twelve, and which will have given you strength, we will go into the little rose-coloured boudoir. I shall place myself in a low narrow chair, and as I shall be very much excited by your enchanting looks, my enormous member will come out of its own accord from its prison, and you will sit astraddle upon me, introducing, with the greatest difficulty, my pretty and vigorous prick into your pretty girl-like cunt, when wriggling about from sheer enjoyment you will stop its movements every time I tell you I am on the point of discharging, so as to increase my desires and my transports of happiness. Then in half an hour's time you will get up and place yourself upon the sofa, whilst I, at your desire, shall dip off all my clothes; then you will get up from the sofa and take off your dressing-gown only keeping on what you have underneath. In my turn I will stretch myself on the sofa, getting every moment more delirious with passion, for your dress, betraying the delicious outlines of your figure, without revealing them entirely, will render me almost beside myself, and will make my prick so long and so stiff that you will hardly be able to sit on its point without being fucked, in spite of its size, which will force from you sighs and murmurs of rapture. At last, when once seated, fucked by my manly and powerful prick, you will throw yourself backwards. I should lean my enraptured legs against your bosoms, in order that you might lick my feet, while you would pass your amorous and divine legs, softer, whiter, and more rose-tinted every day, over the whole breadth of my chest, placing your tiny goddess-like feet in my mouth. As our desires would augment at every moment, you would allow me, would even ask me to take off your garters, your pretty stockings, and your slippers, in order to procure me the luxury of licking every part of your body there, and of realising in the most perfect manner the intense enjoyment arising from the contact of the most delicate, the most woman-like, the most voluptuous member of your body. My hands would frig your little love of a member, my manly prick would kiss your celestial womb, and my thighs would caress your delicious bottom. When I have worked you in this way for hours, ceasing every moment you were on the point of emission, I should, as I withdrew my member, let you at last discharge, and then an immense stream of love would flow into my mouth, which suddenly and as if by enchantment would find itself in the place of my member while your bosoms would be covered with that white essence of which you are the only source in my eyes (I had never known it before Homburg), and which would escape from my amorous member. + +Every day after dinner, reclining voluptuously on a couch, you would snatch a few moments of repose while I was taking off all my clothes. When I had finished, and when I, filled with love, had shown myself to your contemplation, you would give up to me your place upon the sofa, and assuming the most seductive, the most coquettish, and the most graceful attitudes, would come and play with my member, whose vigour would arise solely from the sight of your pretty costume, which, I am convinced, would render you more delicious than the most graceful fairy. You would love me so deeply that I should cease to have any power of will, you would have exhausted me, sucking me completely dry, nothing would remain in my prick, which would be more full of desire, more enormous, and stiffer at every moment. My languishing eyes, gentle as love itself, surrounded by large dark blue circles caused by your look, your tongue, your bosom, your cunt, your member, your heavenly little bottom, your legs, your fingers, and your angelic little feet would tell you how complete was my happiness, my intoxication, my ecstasy, and my faint, exhausted but happy voice would give you the same assurance, would murmur with rapture in your ears--"Oh how I love you, my lady love, my divine little virgin, caress me yet once more, again, still again, it is a dream. Thank you, oh, thank you and yet again. Oh I am in heaven, do not pause, I implore you, suck me harder than ever; lick me well; oh! what rapture; ask me what you will, it shall be yours. You are my mistress, no other but you in the whole world can transport me in this way. Frig me with your knees. Oh! oh! oh! I am going to discharge," and my half-opened mouth would prove to you my enjoyment, and the thirst I had for the bliss you could confer. + +Then, more full of passion than ever woman lover had ever been, and enraptured as you listened to my voice, so completely beneath your sway, listening only to your own love, you would raise your little coquettish petticoat, and pressing dear little loves of calves more closely together, for you could be on your knees, resting upon my little blue veins, you would frig me in this manner, with greater vigour than ever sitting down every now and then upon your fine little heels, in order the better to release my beautiful prick, perfectly straight and rudely swollen and inflamed with passionate desires, from between your divine thighs, as soft as satin, and as white as snow, to better introduce the wet tips of your lovely and velvet like bosoms into the seductive little hole of my member, whilst my knees raised slightly behind would gently caress your bottom, so as to give you some little satisfaction in your turn; and at last, unable any longer to retard the moment of emission, you would bend forward, resting upon both your hands, to increase my desire, and keeping yourself back a little distance from me, while your petticoats would now cover my head, and act almost like an electrical conductor upon me, you would intoxicate me with the perfume exhaled from your legs, from your member, from your cunt, from your bottom, and lastly, you would slack my thirst and complete the celestial transport by pissing, with eager rapture, between my burning lips some of that woman's nectar which you would alone possess, and which, emanating from you alone in the world, is worthy of the gods. It would be half-past eight. + +You cannot form any idea of my excitement at this moment. I hope you will like this, and will answer me prettily. Am I sufficiently in love? And do you believe there will be another woman in the whole world beside yourself for whom I shall have any desire? Oh, how wild is the longing that I have for you at this moment; and this nectar I have spoken of, from whom else could I care for it, could I endure it even, whilst from you what mad delight! Tell me, do you believe this? You know it perfectly well, I am sure; these are not mere words. Tell me that you will piss into my mouth again when I ask you. I am now going to try to sleep, but what chance of doing so with this love that consumes me. I must await your pretty letter of to-morrow morning, for it is that alone which will excite the flow and stream. + + +At half-past eight you would like to conform to the usages of this room of mirrors, and as your desires have become greatly inflamed by my own state, and by the soft and sensual temperament of our bodies, you would ask me to undress you, in order that, being completely naked, I might the more easily overwhelm you with my most passionate caresses. I should then strip you of every thing, except that in order that your feet might not come into immediate contact with the looking glasses upon which we should be walking, I would slip on your feet a pair of tiny little slippers, with little silk soles, at a distance they would hardly be visible. + +Some one is coming. Adieu till to-morrow. + +And larger and stouter than that of my little darling, and so indifferently shod with shoes. (Their boots are pretty.) + +Adieu, my angel, I finish this so as to be enabled to add a few lines to the picture--it is late. I love you with all my soul, with love, respect, and adoration. Nothing yet has been heard about de L. R. It is very bad weather, and my father is still no better. + + +I would take you for a drive either in a pretty barouche or in a phaeton, your toilette would be beautiful but simple. I would only insist upon your wearing a veil, for my love and happiness would render me somewhat egoistical with regard to others. We should not be serious all the time of our drive, for at every instant I should steal a kiss, and your feet would be resting on mine. + +We should return home about half-past five to dress for dinner. You would change every thing, and without paying any attention to what our servants might think, I should put on a loose pair of trousers, prettier than what I had worn this morning but, like them, opening in the front. As for you, my own love, I should insist upon your dressing yourself as a ravishingly pretty little _danseuse_, with some little difference, however, in my favour. Your hair would be in curls, falling all round your head, upon your beautiful naked shoulders. You would crown them with a pretty garland of flowers, such as I like for Aimée. You should wear a light-coloured muslin dress, very low and very short, up to the knees, your arms bare, and the skirts exceedingly full (the body of which would be transparent, and refine and reveal the divine shape of your angelic bosoms), your legs, perfectly naked, would be visible amongst a mass of folds of muslin, and would be covered by little open-work stockings of rose-coloured silk, fastened at the instep by bows, like the dress, and on your tiny virgin feet you would have little satin shoes, without soles. To pass into the dining room, so as to avoid catching cold, and also prevent the servants revelling in the sight of my treasure, you would envelope yourself from head to foot in a long veil. During dinner I would try to remain tolerably quiet so that you might eat and strengthen yourself for the evening, which would be a fatiguing one. Our servants would have directions not to enter until we rang; during each course you would open your veil, and turning towards me (for you would be on my right hand), you would place your pretty legs across mine; immediately my manly prick, which your love would render daily more and more delicious, would display its vivacity, and you would caress it with your lovely satin-like calves, your chair enabling you to do this, being tolerably large, with only one arm on the right, while mine would be much lower, that would not fatigue you much, and this is what you would say to me, "Am I not bewitching and delicious? Do you not think me voluptuous? and regard me as your mistress, holding you under my entire subjection? I am very happy to please you this way." And I should answer, "Yes, I am your slave; you give me the greatest enjoyment that can be had; there is not a woman in the world who possesses the attractions you have; you make me do anything, you are the queen of voluptuousness, of enjoyment. No one knows how to make love as you do." At last at the dessert you would glide gently upon my lap, allowing your petticoats to flow behind. I should suck your bosoms, for as the servants would be getting their own dinners, I should have thrown your veil quite off, and you would then appear enveloped in all your many charms. Then I should give you your dessert, which would consist of a biscuit moistened with that white essence which you alone in the whole world have known and know how to produce in me, and for my reward you would allow me to make my wine for dessert. I would then place my wine-glass between your legs, opened voluptuously wide, and you would let that delicious urine flow into it. The intoxication that this fragrant liquor would produce would be the signal for my most passionate caresses. + +You would begin by placing yourself astride me, and I should thrust with the greatest difficulty my virile member between your legs. In this position we should leave the dining-room, I carrying you along by the stiffness of my member, while every step I took would make you wild with excess of enjoyment. We should go into a pretty boudoir, the floor of which would be completely covered with looking glasses, and filled with furniture intended by their shape and softness to augment the voluptuousness of our embraces. No costume whatever would be put on in this room. Nudity alone would have a right to remain there. There would be pieces of furniture to excite the senses and whereon to recline, others enabling us to suck each of our members, to lick, to frig, to kiss, to enjoy, to complete our performance, to discharge, to fuck, in one word, to supplement and promote the extremest refinements of the most celestial and most perfect of all enjoyments. + + +The continuation on some future occasion My fear of exciting you will depend somewhat upon my letter of this evening or to-morrow, and particularly upon the frank and sincere reply for which I ask you for the day after to-morrow. + +Send me back the beginning. + +You cannot have the faintest idea of my dread when one of these sheets is on its way. + +Why do you trouble yourself to pay so much attention to style and writing-that takes time. I never read mine over, and that is so much time gained. + + +ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF THE LETTER WRITTEN BY THE COUNT ALMOST ENTIRELY IN CYPHER + + +Here is the response of my heart, my beloved adored one. + +Thou shall have it as soon as I shall dare to send it to you. + +Thou shalt belong to me entirely one day, perhaps in eighteen months, and then here is the existence which you shalt have the grief to be compelled to lead. + +In the apartment which I depicted to you the other day, and with the toilette that I require of my beloved lady, my lady mistress is to render herself every day between eleven o'clock and noon. + +She will find there thy loving husband, all fresh and in every respect desirable (_gentil_), clothed in a dressing-gown of very light texture. + +From noon until three o'clock this is the programme. + +At noon thou wilt stretch thyself on thy easy chair, thou wilt loosen a little thy girdle and open thy pretty dressing-gown. I on my bent knees at your side shall lick you with my tongue, while my arm shall encircle thy divine waist and thy two naked arms shall encircle my neck; afterwards softly widening thy virgin legs thou will cast aside all that which hides from the eyes, and you will place me between those divine legs. + +Successively I shall lick with voluptuousness thy neck, thy shoulders, under thy arms, thy breasts. I shall suck with force those chaste little bosoms, which by their swelling would desire to escape from the pretty little rose-coloured stays; then passing to thy intoxicating cunt, I should suck it with such an amount of frenzy that thou wouldst discharge for the first time in my mouth. + +This done it will have so much excited me that, taking thy place, it will become your turn to mount between my legs, and licking all my chest thou wilt finish by frigging with passion my prick, which will become longer and straighter than ever. + +As soon as thou shalt feel the enjoyment coming thou wilt cease, in order to lick the parts adjoining. + +At one o'clock thou wilt want to make water, then my mouth adhering between thy legs, thou wilt allow me to swallow all, then lying down again on thy little belly, I shall lick with fury thy bottom so voluptuous, and thy delicious legs. + +Afterwards it will be thy turn to continue thy caresses upon me. + +At two o'clock both of us elevated in a supreme degree, lifting up thy little chemise in front we shall do the business, that is to say, that surrounding me with vigour with thy legs, thou wilt make efforts in order to fuck thyself (_enfiler_), but my member will be to such a degree enormous that we shall have all the trouble in the world (the delights corresponding to the efforts). At last, once entered thou wilt procure, by my movements and my pauses, such enjoyments that I shall hear you uttering the softest murmurs of thy voice, and so that thou wilt wriggle thyself on my ravished prick which will still further augment thy transports. + +Thou wilt enjoy thyself thus three times. At the third time I shall suck thy breasts with such passion that thy eyes depicting a heavenly languor and a divine abandonment, thou wilt empty out upon me thy delirium-causing seminal fluid. + +That will last until half-past two o'clock, then we shall sleep together thus until three o'clock, and at three o'clock thou wilt go to dress thyself in order to go out or to receive visits. + +Behold, the following part shall come to you if the commencement pleases you. + +Mem. The commission herein is returnable in Paris, 24th June, 1866. + +I, the man, will not take up the time of my readers by detailing the circumstances under which Alice, the maid, roused in me the desire for vengeance which resulted in the way I adopted and which I am about to relate. Suffice it then to say that Alice cruelly and unjustifiably jilted me! In my bitterness of spirit, I swore that if I ever had an opportunity of getting hold of her, I would make her voluptuous person recompense me for my disappointment and that I would snatch from her by force the bridegroom's privileges that I so ardently coveted. But I had to dissemble! Alice and I had many mutual friends to whom this rupture was unknown; we were therefore constantly meeting each other, and if I gave her the slightest hint of my intentions towards her, it would be fatal to the very doubtful chances of success that I had! And so successfully did I conceal my real feelings under a cloak of generous acceptance of her action that she had not the faintest idea (as she afterwards admitted to me) that I was playing a part. + +But, as the proverb says, everything comes to the man who can wait. For some considerable time, it seemed as if it would be wise on my part to abandon my desire for vengeance, as the circumstances of our daily lives were such as did not promise the remotest chance of my getting possession of Alice under conditions of either place or time suitable for the accomplishment of my purpose. Nevertheless, I controlled my patience and hoped for the best, enduring as well as I could the torture of unsatisfied desire and increasing lust. + +It then happened that I had occasion to change my residence, and in my search for fresh quarters, I came across a modest suite of a sitting-room and two bedrooms which would by themselves have suited me excellently; but with them, the landlord desired to let what he termed a box or lumber-room. I demurred to this addition, but as he remained firm, I asked to see the room. It was most peculiar both as regards access and appearance. The former was by a short passage from the landing, furnished with remarkably well-fitting doors at each end. The room was nearly square, of a good size and lofty, but the walls were unbroken, save by the one entrance, light and air being derived from a skylight, or rather lantern, which occupied the greater part of the roof and was supported by four strong and stout wooden pillars. Further, the walls were thickly padded, while iron rings were let into them at regular distances all round in two rows, one close to the floor and the other about a height of eight feet; from the roof beams dangled rope pulleys in pairs between the pillars, while the two recesses on the entrance side, caused by the projection of the passage into the room, looked as if they had at one time been separated from the rest of the room by bars, almost as if they were cells. So strange indeed was the appearance of the whole room that I asked its history, and was informed that the house had been built as a private lunatic asylum at the time when the now unfashionable square in which it stood was one of the centres of fashion, and that this was the old 'mad-room' in which violent patients were confined, the bolts, rings and pulleys being used to restrain them when very violent, while the padding and the double doors made the room absolutely soundproof and prevented the ravings of the inmates from annoying the neighbours. The landlord added that the soundproof quality was no fiction as the room had frequently been tested by incredulous visitors. + +Like lightning the thought flashed through my brain. Was not this room the very place for the consummation of my scheme of revenge? If I succeeded in luring Alice into it, she would be completely at my mercy, for her screams for help would not be heard and would only increase my pleasure, while the bolts, rings, pulleys, etc., supplemented with a little suitable furniture, would enable me to secure her in any way I wished and to hold her fixed while I amused myself with her. Delighted with the idea, I agreed to include the room in my suite. Quietly, but with deep forethought and planning, I got certain furniture made which, while in outward appearance most innocent, as well as most comfortable, was in truth full of hidden mechanisms planned for the special discomfiture of any woman or girl that I might wish to hold in physical control. I had the floor covered with thick Persian carpets and rugs, and the two alcoves converted into nominal photographic laboratories, but in a way that made them suitable for lavatories and dressing-rooms. When completed, the 'Snuggery' (as I christened it) was in appearance a distinctly pretty and comfortable room, while in reality it was nothing more or less than a disguised torture chamber! + +And now came the difficult part of my scheme. + +How to entrap Alice? Unfortunately she was not residing in London but a little way out. She lived with a married sister, and never seemed to come to town except in her sister's company. My difficulty was therefore how to get Alice by herself for a sufficiently long time to accomplish my designs, and sorely I cudgelled my brains over this problem! + +The sisters frequently visited town at irregular intervals as dictated by the contingencies of social duties or shopping. True to my policy of l'entente cordiale, I had welcomed them to my rooms for rest and refreshment and had encouraged them to use my quarters; and partly because of the propinquity of the rooms to Regent Street, partly because of the very dainty meals I invariably placed before them, but mainly because of the soothing restfulness induced by the absolute quiet of the Snuggery after the roar and turmoil of the streets, it soon became their regular practice to honour me with their company for luncheon or tea whenever they came to town and had no special engagement. I need hardly add that secretly I hoped these visits might bring me an opportunity of executing my revenge, but for some months I seemed doomed to disappointment. I used to suffer the tortures of Tantalus when I saw Alice unsuspectingly braving me in the very room I had prepared for her violation, within actual reach of me and of hidden machinery that would place her at my disposal, did I set it working, were it not for her sister's presence! In fact, so keenly did I feel the position that I began to plan the capture of both sisters together, to include Marion in the punishment designed for Alice, and the idea in itself was not unpleasing, as Marion was a fine specimen of female flesh and blood of a larger and more stately type than Alice (who was 'petite'), and one could do much worse than have her at one's disposal for an hour or two to feel and fuck! So seriously did I entertain this project, that I got an armchair made in such a way that the releasing of a secret catch would set free mechanisms that would be actuated by the weight of the occupant and would cause the arms to fold inwards and firmly imprison the sitter. Furnished with luxurious upholstery and the catch fixed, it made the most inviting of chairs, and from its first appearance, Alice took possession of it, in happy ignorance that it was intended to hold her firmly imprisoned while I tackled and secured Marion! + +Before, however, I resorted to this desperate measure, my patience was rewarded! And this is how it happened. + +One evening, the familiar note came to say the sisters were coming to town on the next day and would come for lunch. A little before the appointed hour Alice, to my surprise, appeared alone! She said that, after the note had been posted, Marion became ill and had been very poorly all night and so could not come to town, though better. The shopping engagement was one of considerable importance to Alice, and therefore she had come up alone; she had called to explain matters to me, but would not stop to lunch, she would get a cup of tea and a bun somewhere. + +Against this desertion of me, I vigorously protested, but I doubt if I would have induced her to stay had not a smart shower of rain come on. This made her hesitate about going out into it with the dress she was wearing, as it would be ruined, and finally she consented to have lunch and leave immediately afterwards. + +While she was away in the spare bedroom used by the sisters on their visits, I was in a veritable turmoil of excitement! Alice in my rooms by herself! It seemed too good to be true! But I remembered I yet had to get her into the Snuggery; she was absolutely safe from my designs everywhere but there! But it was imperative that she should be in no way alarmed, and so, with a strong effort, I controlled my panting excitement, and by the time Alice rejoined me in the dining-room I was my usual self. + +Lunch was quickly served. At first, Alice seemed a little nervous and constrained, but by tactful conversation, I soon set her at ease and she then chatted away naturally and merrily. I had craftily placed her with her back to the window so that she should not note signs that a bad storm was brewing: and soon, with satisfaction, I saw that the weather was getting worse and worse! But it might at any moment begin to clear away, and so the sooner I could get her into my Snuggery, the better for me - and the worse for her! So, by every means in my power, I hurried on the procedure of lunch. + +Alice was leisurely finishing her coffee when a rattle of rain against the window panes, followed by an ominous growl of thunder, made her start from her chair and go to the casement. 'Oh! Just look at the rain!' she exclaimed in dismay, 'how very unfortunate!' + +I joined her at the window: 'By Jove, it is bad!' I replied, then added, 'and it looks like lasting. I hope that you have no important engagement for the afternoon that will keep you much in the open?' As I spoke, there came a vivid flash of lightning closely followed by a peal of thunder, which sent Alice staggering backwards with a scared face. + +'Oh!' she exclaimed, evidently frightened; then, after a pause, 'I am a horrid little coward about thunderstorms: they just terrify me!' + +'Won't you then take refuge in the Snuggery?' I asked with a host's look of concern. 'I don't think you will see the lightning there and you certainly won't hear the thunder, as the room is soundproof. Shall we go there?' and I opened the door invitingly. + +Alice hesitated. Was her guardian angel trying to give her a premonitory hint of what her fate would be if she accepted my seemingly innocent suggestion? But at that moment came another flash of lightning, blinding in its intensity, and almost simultaneously a roar of thunder. This settled the question in my favour! 'Yes, yes!' she exclaimed, then ran out. I closely following her, my heart beating exultingly! Quickly she passed through the double doors into the Snuggery, the trap I had so carefully set for her! Noiselessly I bolted the outer door, then closed the inner one. Alice was now mine! mine!! At last I had entrapped her! Now my vengeance was about to be consummated! Now her chaste virgin self was to be submitted to my lust and compelled to satisfy my erotic desires! She was utterly at my mercy, and promptly I proceeded to work my cruel will on her! + +One evening some friends were gathered at the home of one of our most celebrated writers. Having dined sumptuously, they were discussing murder—apropos of what, I no longer remember probably apropos of nothing. Only men were present: moralists, poets, philosophers and doctors—thus everyone could speak freely, according to his whim, his hobby or his idiosyncrasies, without fear of suddenly seeing that expression of horror and fear which the least startling idea traces upon the horrified face of a notary. I—say notary, much as I might have said lawyer or porter, not disdainfully, of course, but in order to define the average French mind. With a calmness of spirit as perfect as though he were expressing an opinion upon the merits of the cigar he was smoking, a member of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences said: “Really—I honestly believe that murder is the greatest human preoccupation, and that all our acts stem from it... “ We awaited the pronouncement of an involved theory, but he remained silent. “Absolutely!” said a Darwinian scientist, “and, my friend, you are voicing one of those eternal truths such as the legendary Monsieur de La Palisse discovered every day: since murder is the very bedrock of our social institutions, and consequently the most imperious necessity of civilized life. If it no longer existed, there would be no governments of any kind, by virtue of the admirable fact that crime in general and murder in particular are not only their excuse, but their only reason for being. We should then live in complete anarchy, which is inconceivable. So, instead of seeking to eliminate murder, it is imperative that it be cultivated with intelligence and perseverance. I know no better culture medium than law.” Someone protested. “Here, here!” asked the savant, “aren't we alone, and speaking frankly?” “Please!” said the host, “let us profit thoroughly by the only occasion when we are free to express our personal ideas, for both I, in my books, and you in your turn, may present only lies to the public.” The scientist settled himself once more among the cushions of his armchair, stretched his legs, which were numb from being crossed too long and, his head thrown back, his arms hanging and his stomach soothed by good digestion, puffed smoke−rings at the ceiling: “Besides,” he continued, “murder is largely self−propagating. Actually, it is not the result of this or that passion, nor is it a pathological form of degeneracy. It is a vital instinct which is in us all—which is in all organized beings and dominates them, just as the genetic instinct. And most of the time it is especially true that these two instincts fuse so well, and are so totally interchangeable, that in some way or other they form a single and identical instinct, so that we no longer may tell which of the two urges us to give life, and which to take it—which is murder, and which love. I have been the confidant of an honorable assassin who killed women, not to rob them, but to ravish them. His trick was to manage things so that his sexual climax coincided exactly with the death−spasm of the woman: 'At those moments,' he told me, 'I imagined I was a God, creating a world!” + + +“Ah,” cried the celebrated writer, “if you are going to seek your examples among professional assassins—” “Hold on,” the scientist replied; “simply that we are all more or less assassins. I like to believe that, intellectually, we have all experienced analogous sensations to a lesser degree. We restrain the innate need of murder and attenuate physical violence by giving it a legalized outlet: industry, colonial trade, war, the hunt or anti−Semitism, because it is dangerous to abandon oneself to it immoderately and outside the law, and since after all the moral satisfaction we derive from it is not worth exposing ourselves to the ordinary consequences of the act—imprisonment( testimony before judges (always tiring and scientifically uninteresting), and, finally, the guillotine—” “You're exaggerating,” interrupted the first speaker. “Murder is a dangerous business only for inelegant murderers—witless and impulsive brutes who lack all psychological understanding. An intelligent and rational man may, with ineffable serenity, commit all the murders he desires. He is assured of immunity. The superiority of his calculations will always prevail against the routine of police investigation and, let us admit it, against the puerility of the criminal investigations with which presiding magistrates enjoy dabbling. In this business, as in all others, it is the small who pay for the great. Come, my friend, surely you admit that the number of crimes which go unprosecuted—” “And tolerated—” “And tolerated—I was about to say that—You will admit that that sum is a thousand times greater than the number of discovered and punished crimes ,about which the papers chatter with such strange prolixity, and with so repugnant a lack of understanding. If you will admit that, then concede that the gendarme is no hobgoblin to the intellectuals of murder—” “Undoubtedly—but that's not the question. You are clouding the issue. I said that murder is a normal and not at all exceptional function of nature and all living beings. So it is exorbitant of society, under pretext of governing men, to have abrogated the exclusive right to kill them, to the detriment of the individuals in whom alone this right resides.” “Quite true!” said an amiable and verbose philosopher whose lectures at the Sorbonne draw a select attendance every week. “Our friend is quite right. As far as I am concerned, I do not believe that a human being exists who is not, basically at least, an assassin. Look! when I am in a drawing room, a church, a station; on the terrasse of a cafe, at the theatre or wherever crowds pass or loiter, I enjoy considering faces from a strictly homicidal point of view. For you may see by the glance, by the back of the neck, the shape of the skull, the jaw bone and zygoma of the cheeks, or by some part of their persons that they bear the stigmata of that psychological calamity known as murder. It is scarcely an aberration of my mind, but I can go nowhere without seeing it flickering beneath eyelids, or without feeling its mysterious contact in the touch of every hand held out to me. Last Sunday I went to a town on the festival day of its patron saint. In the public square, which was decorated with foliage, floral arches, and poles draped with flags, was grouped every kind of amusement common to that sort of public celebration—And beneath the paternal eye of the authorities, a swarm of good people were enjoying themselves. The wooden horses, the roller−coaster and the swings drew a very meager crowd. The organs wheezed their gayest tunes and most bewitching overtures in vain. Other pleasures absorbed this festive throng. Some shot with rifles, pistols, or the good old cross−bow at targets painted like human faces; others hurled balls, knocking over marionettes ranged pathetically on wooden bars. Still others, mallet in hand, pounded upon a spring which animated a French sailor who patriotically transfixed with his bayonet a poor Hova or a mocking Dahomean. Everywhere, under tents or in the little lighted booths, I saw counterfeits of death, parodies of massacre, portrayals of hecatombs. And how happy these good people were!” Everyone realized the philosopher was launched upon his subject, so we settled ourselves as best we could, to withstand the torrent of his theories and anecdotes. He continued: “I notice that these gentle pastimes have for some years been undergoing a considerable development. The joy of killing has become greater and, besides, has become popularized in proportion to the spread of social refinement—for make no mistake, customs do change! Formerly, when we were still uncultivated, the Sabbath shooting−galleries were a monotonously sorry sight to see. They only shot at pipes, and eggshells dancing upon jets of water. In the more sumptuous establishments, they actually had birds, but they were made of plaster. I ask you what fun was there in that? Today, progress has made it legal for every good man to procure himself the delicate and edifying emotion of assassination, for a couple of sous. Into the bargain, you may still win colored plates and rabbits; but, instead of pipes, eggshells, and plaster birds, which smash stupidly without suggesting anything bloody to us, the showman's imagination has substituted figures of men, women and children, carefully jointed and costumed as they should be. Then they have made these figures gesticulate and walk. By means of an ingenious mechanism, they walk happily along, or flee terrified. + + +You see them appear alone or in groups, in decorative settings, scaling walls, entering dungeons, tumbling out of windows, popping up out of trapdoors... They function just like real beings and move their arms, legs and heads. Some appear to be weeping, some seem to be paupers, some invalids, and there are some dressed in gold like legendary princesses. Really, you can believe that they possess intelligence, a will, a soul—that they are alive! Some even assume pathetic attitudes. You can almost hear them cry: 'Mercy! Don't kill me!' It is an exquisite sensation to imagine you are going to kill things that move, suffer, and implore! Something like a taste of warm blood comes to your mouth when you aim the rifle or the pistol at them. What a thrill when the shot decapitates these make−believe men! What a clamor when the arrow splits their cardboard breasts and lays the little inanimate bodies low, in corpse−like postures! Everybody gets excited, intent, and eggs the others on. You hear nothing but expressions of destruction and death: 'Kill him!' 'Aim at his eye, aim at his heart!' 'He got his!' No matter how indifferent these good people are to the targets and the pipes, they become elated when the mark represents a human being. The clumsy ones grow angry, not with their own awkwardness, but with the marionette they have missed. They call it a coward and overwhelm it with vile insults when it disappears intact behind the door of a dungeon. They challenge it: 'Come on out, you bum!' They begin to fire at it again, until they have killed it. Consider these good people; at that moment they are really assassins, beings moved solely by the desire to kill. The homicidal monster which up to then had slumbered in them, awakens with the illusion that they are going to destroy something living. “For, the little fellow of cardboard, sawdust, or wood which moves back and forth amid the scenery is no longer a toy to them, or a bit of lifeless material. Watching it pass back and forth, they unconsciously endow it with warm blood, sensitive nerves, thought—all those things it is so bitterly sweet to annihilate and so fiercely delicious to see oozing from the wounds you have inflicted. They even go so far as to ascribe political and religious convictions to it, contrary to their own; accusing it of being a Jew, an Englishman, or a German, in order to add a particular hate to this general hatred of life, and thus augment the instinctive pleasure of killing by a personal vengeance, intimately relished.” Here the host interrupted out of politeness to his guests, and with the charitable desire of permitting our philosopher and us a breathing space. He objected, quietly: “You're only talking of brutes—peasants who, I concede, are always inclined toward murder. But it is not possible for you to apply the same observations to cultivated minds, disciplined natures, or cultured individuals every day of whose lives witnesses victories over native instinct and the savage vestiges of atavism.” To which our philosopher eagerly replied: “Allow me—what are the habits, my friend, and the preferred pleasures of those whom you call 'cultivated minds and disciplined natures'? Fencing, dueling, violent sports, the abominable pigeon−shoot, bull fighting, the various manifestations of patriotism, hunting—everything which is in reality only a reversion to the period of old−time barbarity, when man—if we may say so was, as far as moral culture is concerned, on the same plane with the wild beasts he pursued. After all, we need not complain that the hunt has survived all the slightly altered trappings of earlier customs. It is a powerful counter−irritant, through whose agency 'cultivated minds and disciplined natures' are enabled, without too much harm to us, to drain off what destructive energy and bloody passion still remains in them. Without it, instead of coursing deer, finishing off the boar and slaughtering innocent game−birds in the meadows, you may be sure that the 'cultivated minds would turn their packs on our trail. We would be the ones whom the 'disciplined natures' would joyfully mow down with rifle−fire, which they do not fail to do when they obtain the power, through some means or another, and with more determination and—let us frankly admit it—less hypocrisy than the brute peasant. Ah, let us never look forward to the disappearance of game from our fields and forests! It is our safeguard and, after a fashion, our ransom. The day it finally disappears, it will not be long before we take its place, for the exquisite enjoyment of the 'cultivated minds'. The Dreyfus affair affords us an excellent example, and never, I believe, was the passion for murder and the joy of the manhunt so thoroughly and cynically displayed. The pursuit of Monsieur Grimaux through the streets of Nantes remains the most characteristic of the startling incidents and monstrous events to which it gave opportunity daily during the past year. And it accrues to the honor of the 'cultivated minds and disciplined natures', who saw to it that this great savant, to whom we are indebted for the most brilliant researches in chemistry, was overwhelmed with indignities and threats of death. In this connection, we must always remember that the mayor of Clisson, 'a cultivated mind', in a letter which was made public, refused to allow Monsieur Grimaux to enter his town, and regretted that modern laws did not permit him to hang him high and dry—a thing which befell savants in the lovely days of the ancient monarchies. And for that, this excellent mayor was strongly commended by all whom France numbers among those exquisite 'worldly personalities' who, according to our host, win such brilliant victories every day over original instinct and the savage vestiges of atavism. Notice also that it is from among the cultivated minds and disciplined natures that officers are almost exclusively recruited. Men—that is to say—who, neither more nor less wicked nor stupid than others, freely choose a calling—a highly honored calling, moreover—in which every intellectual effort is bent toward committing the most diversified violations upon the human being; and in developing and compiling the most complete, far reaching and certain means of pillage, destruction and death. Aren't there warships to which we have given the perfectly logical and understandable names of Devastation... Fury... Terror? “As for me? Listen to this! I'm positive that I believe I am a normal man, with affections, high sentiments, superior culture and the refinements of civilization and sociability. Well, how often have I heard the imperious voice of murder snarling in me! How often have I felt the desire rising in a surge of blood from the depths of my being to my brain—that bitter, violent and almost invincible desire to kill. Do not believe that this desire arose in a passionate crisis, accompanied a sudden, unreflective rage, or was combined with a keen lust for money. Not at all! This desire is born suddenly—powerful and unjustified in me—for no reason and apropos of nothing... In the street, for example, behind the back of an unknown pedestrian. Yes, there are some backs on the street which cry for the knife. Why?” After this unexpected revelation, the philosopher was silent for a moment, and looked at us all in alarm; then he continued: “No—you see, the moralists have split hairs in vain. The need to kill is born in man with the need to eat, and merges with it... This instinctive need, which is the mainspring of all living organisms, is developed by education instead of being restrained, and is sanctified by religion instead of being denounced. Everything conspires to make it the pivot upon which our admirable society revolves. As soon as man awakens to consciousness, we instill the spirit of murder in his mind. Murder, expanded to the status of a duty, and popularized to the point of heroism, accompanies him through all the stages of his existence. He is made to adore uncouth gods, mad, furious gods who are only gratified by cataclysms and, ferocious maniacs that they are, gorge themselves with human lives and mow down nations like fields of wheat. He is made to respect only heroes, those disgusting brutes saddled with crime and red with human blood. The virtues by which he rises above others, and which win him glory, fortune and love, are based entirely upon murder. In war, he discovers the supreme synthesis of the eternal and everlasting folly of murder—regulated, regimented and obligatory—a national function. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, he will always see that word: murder—immortally inscribed upon the pediment of that vast slaughter−house—humanity. “Then why do you expect this man, in whom the scorn of human life is inculcated from infancy, and whom we consecrate to legalized slaughter—why do you expect him to recoil from murder when he finds in it interest or distraction? In the name of what law could society condemn assassins who, in reality, have only conformed to the homicidal laws which it dictates, and followed the bloody example which it sets them? 'Why is it?' assassins might readily say, 'that you force us to overpower groups of men whom we do not hate, whom we do not even know—then, the more we overwhelm them, the more you overwhelm us with rewards and honors? Then again, trusting in your logic, we destroy people because they hamper us or we detest them, or because we covet their money, their wives, their positions, or simply because we enjoy destroying them: all of which are concise, plausible and human reasons—and along comes the gendarme, the judge and the hangman! 'Here is a revolting injustice which is perfectly senseless!' What could society reply to that, if it had the slightest regard for logic?” A young man who had been silent until then said: “Is this really the explanation of that strange murderous mania by which you maintain we are all originally or willfully tainted? I do not think so and I do not wish to. I prefer to believe that everything about us is mysterious. Furthermore, this satisfies the indolence of my mind, which has a horror of solving social, and human problems which, besides, are never solved. And it strengthens the reasons—the purely poetic reasons by which I am tempted to explain, or rather not to explain, everything which I do not understand. You have just made quite a terrible disclosure, Doctor, and described impressions which, if they were to assume active form, might lead you far a field, and me also; for I have often experienced these impressions, and quite recently, under the following exceptionally banal circumstances. But first permit me to add that I ascribe these abnormal states of mind to the environment in which I was brought up, and the daily influences which affected me, unawares. “You know my father, Doctor Trepan. You know that there is no more sociable or charming man than he. Nor is there one of whom the profession has made a more deliberate assassin. I have often witnessed those marvelous operations which made him famous the world over. There is something truly phenomenal in his disregard for life. Once he had just performed a difficult laparotomy and, examining his patient, who was still under the influence of the chloroform, he suddenly said: “This woman may have an affected pylorus... suppose I also go into that stomach. I have time. Which he did. There was nothing wrong. Then my father started to sew up the needless wound he had made, saying: 'Now, at least, I'm certain.' He was so certain that the patient died the very same night. Another time, in Italy, where he had been summoned for an operation, we were visiting a museum. I was enraptured. 'Ah, poet! poet!' exclaimed my father, who was not interested for a moment in the masterpieces which carried me away with enthusiasm; 'Art! art! Beauty! Do you know what it is? Well, my boy, it is a woman's abdomen, open and all bloody, with the hemostats in place!' But I won't philosophize any more, I'll narrate... From the tale I promised you, you will deduce all the anthropological conclusions of which it admits, if it really admits of any...” This young man had So authoritative a manner and so bitter a tone, that it made us shiver slightly. “I was returning from Lyon,” he continued, “and I was alone in a first−class compartment. I've forgotten what station it was, but a traveler got on. I admit that the irritation of being disturbed when alone can bring about very violent states of mind, and arouse you to peevish behavior. But I experienced nothing of the sort. I was so bored with being alone that the chance arrival of this companion was rather a pleasure to me from the very start. He settled himself across from me, after carefully depositing his few bags in the rack. He was a bulky man, of common appearance, whose greasy ugliness shortly became obnoxious to me. After a few moments, I felt something like an insuperable disgust in looking at him. He was stretched opt heavily on the cushions, his thighs apart, and at every jolt of the train his enormous belly trembled and heaved like a disgusting mass of jelly. As he seemed hot, he took off his collar and sloppily mopped his forehead—a low, wrinkled and bumpy forehead, raggedly framed by a few short, sticky hairs. His face was merely a lumpy mass of fat; his triple chin a slack flap of soft flesh, spread on his chest. To avoid this unpleasant sight I pretended to look at the countryside, and forcibly tore myself away from the presence of this irksome companion. An hour passed. And when curiosity, stronger than my will, had drawn my eyes back to him, I saw that he had fallen into a deep and unprepossessing sleep. He slept, sunk into himself, his head drooping and rolling upon his shoulders, and his huge, bloated hands lay open upon the slopes of his thighs. I noticed that his round eyes bulged beneath creased eyelids, and that a bit of bluish pupil showed through a slit, like an ecchymosis on a scrap of limp veal. What insane idea suddenly flashed through my mind? Truly, I don't know. For though I had been frequently tempted by murder, it lay in me in an embryonic state of desire, and had never as yet assumed the precise form of a gesture or an act. Is it possible that the ignominious ugliness of this man alone was able to crystallize that gesture and that act? No, there is a more profound cause, of which I am ignorant. I arose quietly and approached the sleeper, my hands spread, contracted and violent, as though to strangle him.” With these words, being a story−teller who knew how to get his effects, he paused. Then, evidently satisfied with himself, he continued: “Despite my rather puny appearance, I am gifted with unusual strength, exceptional muscular agility, and extraordinary power of grip, and at that moment a strange heat unleashed the dynamic force of my bodily faculties. My hands alone moved towards this man's neck—by themselves, I assure you—burning and terrible. I felt in me a lightness, an elasticity, an influx of nervous tides, something like the powerful intoxication of sexual desire. Yes, I can't explain what I felt better than to compare it with that. The minute my hands were about to close upon this greasy neck, the man woke up. He awoke with terror in his eyes, and he stuttered: 'What? what? what?' And that was all! I saw that he wanted to say more, but he couldn't! His round eye flickered like a little light sputtering in the wind. Then it remained fixed and motionless upon me, in horror. Without saying a word, without even seeking an excuse or a reason, by which the man would have been reassured, I sat down again across from him and nonchalantly, with an ease of manner which still astonishes me, I unfolded a newspaper which, however, I did not read. Fear grew in the man's eyes with every moment; little by little he recoiled, and I saw his face grow spotted with red, then purple, then it stiffened. + + +All the way to Paris, the man's stare retained its frightful fixity. When the train stopped, the man did not get off... “ The narrator lit a cigarette in the flame of a candle, and from a cloud of smoke his phlegmatic voice was saying: “Oh, I know well enough. I had killed him! He was dead of cerebral congestion.” This story made us very uneasy, and we looked at each other stupefied. Was the strange young man sincere? Had he tried to mystify us? We awaited an explanation, a commentary or an evasion, but he was silent. Grave and serious, he had resumed smoking, and now he seemed to be thinking of something else. From then on the conversation continued chaotic and lifeless, skimming a thousand frivolous subjects in a languid manner. Then a man with a ravaged face, a bowed back and mournful eyes, whose hair and beard were prematurely grey, arose with difficulty and in a trembling voice, said: “Up to now you nave talked of everything but women, which is really inconceivable in a situation in which they are of primary importance.” + + +“Fine! Let's talk about them,” agreed the illustrious writer, who now found himself in his favorite environment; for in the literary world he passed for that curious fool called a feminist writer. “It's high time that all these bloody nightmares were infused with a little jollity. Let us talk of woman, my friends, since it is by her and through her that we forget our savage instincts—that we learn to love, and are raised to the supreme conception of pity and the idea!” The man with the ravaged face emitted a rasping, ironical laugh. “Woman, teacher of compassion!” he exclaimed; “Yes, I know the anthem. It is utilized a good deal in a certain type of literature, and in courses in drawing−room philosophy. Why, her entire history, and not only her history, but her role in nature and life contradicts this purely romantic concept. Why do women rush to bloody spectacles with the same frenzy that they fly to the pursuit of passion? Why is it that you see them in the streets, at the theatre, in the court of assizes or beside the guillotine, craning their necks and eagerly straining their eyes to sights of torture, in order to experience, to the swooning−point, the frightful thrill of death? Why does the very name of a great assassin make them tremble to the very depths of their flesh with a sort of delicious horror? All of them, or nearly all, dreamed about Pranzini! Why?” “Nonsense!” exclaimed the illustrious writer. “Prostitutes—” “No,” said the man with the ravaged face, “noblewomen—and bourgeoisies—it's the same thing. Among women there are no moral categories—only social categories. They are women. Among the common people and in the upper and lower middle−class, and right on up to the most elevated social strata, women pounce upon those hideous morgues and abject museums of crime that make up the fiction columns of the Petit Journal. Why? Because great assassins have always been formidable lovers. Their genetic powers equal their criminal powers. They love in the same way they kill! Murder is born of love, and love attains its greatest intensity in murder. There is the same physiological exaltation, there are the same gestures of strangling and biting—and often the same words occur during identical spasms.” He spoke with difficulty, with an air of suffering and as he spoke his eyes became more mournful and the wrinkles in his face were more accentuated. Woman, dispenser of ideality and compassion!” he went on: “Why, the most atrocious crimes are nearly always the work of woman. It is she who conceives them, organizes them, prepares them and directs them. If she does not execute them with her own hands, which are often too weak, you find her moral presence, her ideas, and her sex expressed in their ferocity and implacability. 'Look for the woman!' said the wise criminologist.” “You slander her!” protested the author, who could not conceal a gesture of indignation. “What you offer us as generalizations are the very rare exceptions. Degeneracy... neurosis... neurasthenia... My God! Woman is no more impervious to psychical disease than man—although with her these disturbances assume a charming and touching form, which makes us better understand the delicacy of her exquisite tenderness. No sir, you have fallen into a deplorable error. To the contrary, what we must admire in woman is her great common sense and her great love of life which, as I said before, finds its final expression in compassion.” “Literature, sir, literature! “And the worst possible kind!” “Pessimism, sir! Blasphemy! Stupidity!” “I think both of you are mistaken,” interrupted a physician; “women are far more specialized and complete than you think. Incomparable virtuosi and great artists in grief that they are, they prefer the sight of suffering to that of death, and tears to blood. And it's a wonderfully ambiguous business in which each finds what he is looking for; since everyone draws quite different conclusions. We exalt woman's compassion or curse her cruelty for equally irrefutable reasons, according to whether we are momentarily disposed to owe her gratitude or hatred. So what good are all these fruitless discussions; for in the eternal battle of the sexes, we are always conquered—and we can do nothing about it—and none of us as yet, be he misogynist or feminist, has found a more perfect instrument of pleasure, or any other means of reproduction, than woman.” But the man with the ravaged face made violent gestures of denial: “Listen to me,” he said. “The hazards of existence and what a life I've had—have placed me in the presence of—not a woman—but woman. I have seen her, stripped of the artifices and hypocrisies with which civilization veils her real soul. I have seen her abandoned to her single whim, or, if you prefer, to her sole driving instincts, in an environment where nothing, it is true, can restrain them and, on the contrary, everything conspires to excite them. Neither laws, morals, religious prejudices nor social conventions hid her from me—nothing. It was her true self I saw, in her original ,nudity, among gardens and tortures—blood and flowers! When she appeared to me I had fallen to the lowest point of human abjection—at least, I thought so. Then, before her amorous eyes and her compassionate mouth I cried out with hope, and I believed—yes, I believed that through her I would be saved. Well, it was something fearful! Woman revealed crimes to me that I had not known! shadows into which I had not yet descended. Look at my dead eyes, my inarticulate lips, my hands which tremble—only from what I have seen! But I can no more curse her than I can curse the fire which devours towns and forests, the waters which sink ships, or the tiger which carries his bloody prey in his jaws into the depths of the jungle. Woman possesses the cosmic force of an element, an invincible force of destruction, like nature's. She is, in herself alone, all nature! Being the matrix of life, she is by that very fact the matrix of death—since it is from death that life is perpetually reborn, and since to annihilate death would be to kill life at its only fertile source.” “What does that prove?” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders. He answered simply: “It proves nothing. Must things be proved in order to be painful or pleasant? They need only be felt...” Then, timidly and—oh, the power of human vanity!—with visible self−satisfaction, the man with the ravaged face took out of his pocket a roll of paper, which he carefully unfolded: “I have written,” he said, “the story of this period of my life. I have hesitated to publish it for a long time, and I still hesitate. I would like to read it to you—you who are men and have no fear of plumbing the blackest of human mysteries. May you be able to withstand its bloody horror! It is called: TORTURE GARDEN...” Our host called for fresh cigars and fresh drinks. +THE MISSION +PART 1 + +Before relating one of the most frightful episodes of my travels in the Far East, perhaps it will be interesting if I briefly explain under what conditions I was led to undertake them. It is contemporary history. To those who will be tempted to wonder at the anonymity which I have insisted on jealously maintaining in what concerns me in the course of this authentic and distressing story, I will say: “My name matters little; it is the name of a man who has caused great suffering to others as well as to himself—even more to himself than to others—and who, after many shocks suffered in a descent to the very dregs of human desire, is trying to reconstruct a soul for himself in solitude and obscurity. Peace to the ashes of his sin.” Twelve years ago, no longer knowing what to do, and condemned by a series of misfortunes to the cruel expedient of hanging myself or throwing myself into the Seine, I appeared before that court of last resort, the board of legislative elections, in a county in which, more over, I knew no one and had never set foot. It is true that my candidacy was officially supported by the cabinet which, no longer knowing what to do with me, found an ingenious and polite means of relieving itself once and for all of my daily harassing importunities. On this occasion I held a solemn and intimate interview with the Minister, who was my friend and old school−chum. “You see how nice we are to you!” this powerful, this generous friend said to me; “Scarcely have we snatched you from the jaws of justice—and we had a hard time doing it—than we're making you a deputy.” “Tm not nominated yet,” I said peevishly. “True! but you have every chance. Intelligent, of attractive appearance, debonair, and a good fellow when you care to be, you possess the sovereign gift of pleasing. Ladies' men, my boy, are always men of the people. I'll vouch for you. It's a question of properly understanding the situation. The rest is very simple.” And he admonished me: “Above all, rid politics! Don't commit yourself. + + +Don't fly off the handle! In the district I have chosen for you there is one question that supersedes all others: the beet. The rest doesn't count, and is the prefect's business. You are a purely agricultural candidate—more than that, exclusively a beet−candidate. Don't forget it for a moment. Whatever may happen in die course of the campaign, stand resolutely upon this excellent platform. Do you know anything about beets?” “Good Lord no!” I said, “except, like everybody else, I know you get sugar from them—and alcohol.” “Bravo! That's enough,” applauded the Minister, with friendly and reassuring emphasis. “proceed upon that data. Promise fabulous crops—extraordinary chemical fertilizers—free. Promise railroads, canals, routes for the transportation of this interesting and patriotic vegetable. Announce reductions in taxes, bonuses for the farmers, atrocious duties on competitive products—anything you like! You have carte blanche in this affair, and I'll help you. But don't get involved in personal or generalized polemics which might endanger you and, after your election, imperil the prestige of the Republic. For, between you and me, old man—I don't reproach you with any thing—I merely state facts—you have a rather awkward past.” I was in no mood to laugh. Vexed by this after−thought, which seemed to me unnecessary and unkind, I replied sharply, looking my friend squarely in the face; and he could read the cold, sharp threats that lay in my eyes: You might more truthfully have said, 'We have a past.' It seems to me, my friend, that mine has nothing on yours.” “Oh, as for me!” said the Minister, with an air of superior detachment and smug nonchalance, “it's not the same thing... I, old man—France covers my tracks!” Then, returning to my election, he added: “Now I'll continue. Beets—more beets—and still more beets! Such is your program. And see that you don't deviate from it.” Then he discreetly gave me some money and wished me good luck. I faithfully followed this program which my powerful friend had laid out for me, and I was wrong. I was not elected. I attribute the overwhelming majority which my adversary received, aside from certain dishonest manipulations, to the fact that this wretch was even more ignorant than I, and a more notorious blackguard. Let us notice, in passing, that at the present time a well−displayed swinishness supersedes all valid qualifications, and the more infamous a man is, the more we are inclined to endow him with intellectual force and moral courage. My adversary, who is today one of the indisputable glories of politics, had pilfered on many occasions. And his superiority may be attributed to the fact that instead of concealing his speculations, he boasted of them with the most revolting cynicism. “I've stolen! I've stolen!” he shouted down village streets, in public squares, along the countryside and across the fields. “I've stolen! I've stolen!” he proclaimed in his professions of faith, his bill−posters and confidential circulars. And in cabarets his agents, perched upon casks, spattered with wine and bloated with alcohol, reiterated and bellowed those magic words: “He's stolen! He's stolen!” The working classes in the cities, dazzled no less than the sturdy countrymen, acclaimed this bold man with a frenzy which swelled in direct proportion to die frenzy of his confessions. How could I contend with such a rival, who possessed such qualifications—I, who still had on my conscience (and modestly concealed them), merely the paltry peccadilloes of youth: petty thefts, extortion of money from mistresses, cheating at games, blackmail, anonymous letters, informing and forgery? Oh, the candor of innocent youth! One evening at a mass−meeting I even barely escaped being thrashed by some electors who were furious because, in view of my, opponent's scandalous statements, I had demanded—in addition to better beets—the right to be virtuous, moral and honest, and proclaimed the necessity of cleansing the Republic of the particular filth which dishonored it. They rushed upon me, grasped me by the throat, and my body was lifted and tossed from hand to hand, like a bundle. Luckily I escaped from the consequences of my excess of eloquence with only a swollen cheek, three bruised ribs and six broken teeth. + + +That is all I carried away from that disastrous adventure into which the protection of the Minister who claimed to be my friend had so unluckily led me. I was incensed. I had all the more right to be incensed since, suddenly, in the thick of the battle, the government had abandoned me, leaving me without support, and with only my beet as an amulet by which to make myself understood and to parley with my adversary. The prefect, at first quite humble, did not hesitate to become very insolent; then he refused me the data upon which my campaign rested, and finally he almost slammed his door in my face. The Minister himself no longer answered my letters, refused to grant me anything I asked him, and the partisan newspapers launched underhand attacks upon me and made derogatory allusions couched in polished and flowery prose, They never went so far as to attack me officially, but it was plain to everyone that I was being dismissed. Ah, I truly believe that no man has ever been so embittered as I! I returned to Paris firmly resolved to raise an issue at the risk of losing everything, and demanded an explanation of the Minister, whom my belligerent attitude immediately reduced to compliance and amiability. “Old man,” he said, “I regret what has happened to you. On my word of honor! You can see for yourself I'm miserable about it. But what could I do? I am not the only man in the cabinet, and—” “You're the only one I know!” I interrupted violently, upsetting piles of papers which lay near me on his desk. “The others don't concern me. The others are none of my business. You're the only one. You've betrayed me—it's vile!” “But damn it, listen a minute, will you!” begged the Minister, “and don't get angry like that before you know—” “I only know one thing, and that's enough for me. You've made a fool of me. Well then—no, no, it won't pass off as easily as you think. It's my turn now.” I walked up and down the office, uttering threats and kicking the chairs. “So! so! you've made a fool of me! Now we're going to have some fun! Then the country will know at last what a Minister is. At the risk of poisoning it, I'll show it—I'll expose the soul of a Minister to it. Idiot! So you didn't realize that you, your career, your secrets, and your portfolio, are at my mercy! So my past troubles you? It shocks your modesty, and Marianne's? Just wait! Tomorrow—yes, tomorrow, everything will be known—” I was choking with rage. The Minister tried to calm me, grasped me by the arm and drew me gently, into the armchair I had just bounded out of in fury. “Calm down!” he said to me, and his voice too on a pleading tone. “Listen to me, please! Come, sit down! Stubborn ass! You won't listen to anything! Here, this is what happened...” He uttered swift, short sentences, choppy and trembling: We reckoned without your opponent. In the campaign he revealed himself a powerful man—a real statesman! You know how restricted the eligible ministerial personnel is. Although the same candidates are always coming up, from time to time we have to show a new face to the Chamber and the country. Well, there is none. Do you know any? Well, we thought your opponent might be one of those faces. He has all the qualities suitable to a provisory Minister—an emergency Minister. Finally, since he was for sale and deliverable right then and there—you understand? It's hard on you, I admit... But the country's welfare, first of all—” “Don't talk nonsense. We're not in the Chamber now, It's not a question of the country's interests, which You don't give a damn about, and neither do I. It's a question of me. Well, thanks to you, I'm on the street. Yesterday the cashier of my gambling−joint insolently refused me a hundred sous. My creditors, banking on my success and furious at my defeat, are hounding me like a hare. I'll be sold out! Today, I haven't even the price of a dinner. And you simply imagine that things can go on like this? Well, have you become senseless—as senseless as a member of the majority?” The Minister smiled. He tapped me familiarly on the knee and said: “I'm entirely willing—but you won't let me speak—I'm entirely willing to grant you a compensation—” + + +“A reparation!” “A reparation, agreed!” “Complete?” “Complete! Come back in a few days... Doubtless I'll be in a position to offer it to you then. In the meantime here's a hundred louis. It's all I have left of the confidential funds.” Sweetly, with merry cordiality, he added: “A half−a−dozen more guys like you, and there'll be no budget!” This generosity, which had exceeded my expectations, possessed the power instantly to calm my nerves. Still grumbling incessantly, for I did not wish to appear disarmed or satisfied, I pocketed the two bills my friend smilingly held out to me, and I retired with dignity. I spent the following three days in the basest debauchery. + + +PART 2 + +Permit me to go back once more into the past. Perhaps it is not immaterial that I tell you who I am and where I come from. It will explain the irony of my fate so much better. I was born in the country, of a lower middle−class family—that honest, thrifty and virtuous middle−class which, they inform us in official bulletins, is the real France. Oh well, I am none the prouder for that. My father was a grain merchant. He was a very crude, uncultured man, and a very astute business man. He had the reputation of being very clever, and this great cleverness consisted of 'roping people in' as he used to say. To cheat about the quality and weight of merchandise; to charge two francs for what cost him two sous and whenever possible, without raising too much of a scandal, to get those two francs twice—such were his principles. For instance, he never delivered oats that he had not first soaked with water. In that way, the swollen grains yielded double measure to the liter or kilogram, especially when a little gravel had been added—a practice which my father always indulged in conscientiously. He also knew how discreetly to distribute in the bags blighted and other noxious seeds thrown off in threshing—and no one could adulterate fresh flour with fermented better than he. For in business, nothing must be wasted, and everything makes weight. My mother, who was even more greedy for dishonest profits, assisted him by her predatory ingenuity and sat stiff and distrustful, watching over the till as one mounts guard before an enemy. A strict Republican and a fiery patriot—he furnished supplies to the army—an intolerant moralist and a good man after all, in the popular sense of the word, my father had no pity and accepted no excuse for the dishonesty of others; especially when it was to his disadvantage. In such cases he could never cease talking about the necessity for honor and virtue. One of his great ideas was that in a well−organized democracy they should be made compulsory—like education, taxes and voting. One day he discovered that a teamster who had been in his service for fifteen years, was robbing him. He immediately had him arrested. At the trial the teamster defended himself as best he could: “But the boss never hesitated to 'rope people in'. Whenever he had played a good trick on a customer, he boasted about it as though he had done a good deed. 'The only thing is to take in the cash,' he used to say, 'no matter where or how you get it. To sell a dead cat for a live horse—that's the secret of business.' Well, I've done just what the boss does with his customers. I've roped him in.” These cynical remarks made a bad impression on the judges. They sentenced the teamster to two years in prison, not only for having pilfered a few kilograms of grain, but chiefly because he had slandered one of the oldest business houses in district... a house founded in 1794, whose long−standing, steadfast, and legendary respectability had been the ornament of the town from generation to generation. I remember that on the evening of this celebrated decision my father had gathered some friends at table: merchants like himself and, like him, rooted in this inaugural principle that to 'rope people in' was the very soul of trade. You can imagine how indignant they were about the defiant attitude of the teamster. They talked of nothing else until midnight; and out of the confusion, epigrams, discussions and little glasses of brandy, I distilled this precept: which was, so to speak, the moral of the episode and at the same time the synthesis of my education: To take something from a person and keep it for one self: that is robbery. To take something from one person and then turn it over to another in exchange for as much money as you can get: that is business. Robbery is so much more stupid, since it is satisfied with a single, frequently dangerous profit; whereas in business it Can be doubled without danger. It was in this moral atmosphere that in some way or other I grew up and developed entirely alone, with no other text than the daily example of my parents. Among the shop keeping classes children are generally left to their own devices, for no one has time to bother with their education. They educate themselves as best they can, at the mercy of their own dispositions and the pernicious influences of that environment, which is generally degrading and confined. Spontaneously, and without the need of any outward pressure, I contributed my own portion of emulation or invention to the family swindles. From the age of ten I had no other concept of life than theft, and I was convinced—oh, quite ingenuously I assure you—that to 'rope people in' constituted the foundation of all social intercourse. College determined the bizarre and tortuous direction I was to give to my own life, for it was there I met the man who was later to become my friend—the celebrated Minister, Eugene Mortain. The son of a wine−merchant, groomed for politics (just as I was for business) by his father, who was the chief electoral representative of the district, vice−president of the Gambettist committees and founder of various leagues, opposition groups and professional syndicates, Eugene bore within him from infancy the soul of 'a born statesman'. Although the recipient of a free scholarship, he immediately overawed us with his obvious superiority in effrontery and rudeness, and also by a solemn and vacuous manner of speaking which did violence to our enthusiasms. Besides, he inherited from his father the profitable and efficacious mania for organization. In a few weeks he had made short work of transforming, the college campus into a meeting place for all sorts of societies and clubs, committees and sub−committees, of which he simultaneously elected himself president, secretary and treasurer. There was the football association, the top association, the leap−frog society, and the walking dub; there was the horizontal−bar committee, the trapeze league, the one−legged race syndicate, etc. Every member of these various associations was obliged to contribute to the general fund—that is to say, our comrade's pockets—monthly dues of five sous which, among other advantages, entitled him to a subscription to the quarterly journal which Eugene Mortain edited as propaganda for the ideas, and the defense of the interests, of the numerous 'autonomous and solitary groups,' as he proclaimed. Evil instincts and appetites which were common to us both immediately bound us together and made of our close partnership a greedy and incessant exploitation of our comrades, who were proud to be syndicated. I soon discovered I was the lesser power in this duplicity, but the realization of this fact made me cling only the aster to the career of this ambitious companion. As compensation for lack of an equal division. I was always assured of being able to pick up a few crumbs... they sufficed me then. Alas! I have never had more than the crumbs of the cakes my friend devoured. I rediscovered Eugene later, during a difficult and distressing episode of my life. By dint of 'roping people in' my father had ended by being roped in himself, and not in the figurative sense which he applied to his customers. An unfortunate stock of provisions which, it appeared, poisoned an entire barracks, was the occasion for this deplorable incident, which crowned the total ruin of our house founded in 1794. My father might perhaps have survived his dishonor, for he was aware of the infinite indulgence of his epoch; but he could not survive his ruin. An attack of apoplexy carried him off one beautiful evening. He died, leaving my mother and me penniless. No longer able to count on him, I was definitely obliged to get myself out of the mess alone and,tearing myself away from the maternal lamentations, I fled to Paris where Eugene Mortain welcomed me with open arms. That worthy was rising little by little. Thanks to parliamentary protection, cleverly exploited, to the agility of his nature and his absolute lack of scruples, he was beginning to be well spoken of in the press, and in political and financial circles. He immediately employed me to do his dirty work, nor was it long before, living as I did in his shadow, I absorbed some of his notoriety, by which I did not know how to profit as I should have. But I was most lacking in the ability to persevere in wrongdoing. Not that I experienced belated qualms of conscience, remorse or fleeting desires for honesty: there is a diabolical streak in me, a relentless and inexplicable perversity which suddenly forces me, without apparent reason, to drop the best conducted of affairs and loosen my hold on the most greedily gripped throats. With practical qualities of the very first order, an acute flair for life, the audacity even to conceive the impossible and an exceptional alacrity in materializing it, I still have not the necessary tenacity of a man of action. + +Perhaps beneath the scoundrel that I am, there lies a misled poet? Perhaps a mystifier who enjoys mystifying himself? However, in foreknowledge of the future, and feeling that the day would inevitably come when my friend Eugene would want to get rid of a man who symbolized to him an embarrassing past, I had the cunning to compromise him by circulating derogatory stories, and the foresight to keep in my possession incontrovertible proofs. For fear of a downfall, Eugene was forced perpetually to drag me about after him like a ball and chain. While awaiting the supreme honors towards which the muddy stream of politics was bearing him, here, among other honorable matters, were the nature of his intrigues and the subjects of his preoccupation: Officially, Eugene had a mistress. She was then known as the Countess Borska. Not very young, but still pretty and desirable, now a Pole, now a Russian and frequently an Austrian, she naturally passed for a German spy. Therefore her salon was a hangout for most of our illustrious statesmen. Many political affairs were bandied about there, and amid considerable coquetry, many notable and dubious transactions found their inception. Among the most frequent guests of this salon, a certain Levantine financier, Baron K—, was conspicuous. He was a quiet man, with a wan grey face and dull eyes, who had revolutionized the Stock Exchange by his formidable manipulations. It was known, or at least it was said, that behind this silent and impenetrable mask one of the most powerful Empires of Europe was in operation. It was doubtless a purely romantic concept, for in these corrupt places one never knows which to admire more—their corruption or their insipidity. Nevertheless, Countess Borska and my friend entertained lively hopes of being taken into the confidence of the mysterious baron, and continued to hope all the more energetically as the latter opposed their discreet but definite advances, with an even more discreet and definite reserve. I even believe that he pushed his reserve so far as to give them malicious advice, which resulted in a disastrous transaction for our friends. Then they conceived of letting loose upon the recalcitrant banker a very pretty young woman, who was an intimate friend of their household, and to let me loose at the same time upon the very pretty young woman who, worked upon by them, was quite willing to accept us favorably—the banker for business, and me for pleasure. Their calculation was simple and I grasped it at the very start: introduce me into the place and there I, through the woman, and they through me, would become roasters of the secrets which the baron let slip in moments of tender forgetfulness! This is what might be called high−pressure politics! Alas! that demon of perversity, which visits me at the decisive moment when I ought to act, wished things otherwise, and brought about the clumsy abortion of this lovely project. At the dinner which was to seal this quite Parisian union, I behaved in so unmannerly a fashion to the young woman that after a scandalous scene she left the salon in shame, fury and tears, and went home, widowed of both our loves. The little celebration was cut short, and Eugene took me home in a cab. We went down the Champs Elysees amid a tragic silence. “Where shall I drop you off?” the great man said to me, as we turned the corner of the Rue Royale. “At the dive... on the boulevard,” I sneeringly replied to them, in a hurry to breathe some pure air, in the company of honest people. And suddenly, with a gesture of discouragement, my friend tapped me on the knee and oh, all my life I shall see the sinister expression of his mouth, and his look of hatred!——and he sighed: “Well! Well! No good will ever come of you!” He was right. And that time I could not blame him for it. Eugene Mortain belonged to that school of politicians which, under the famous name of opportunists, Gambetta unleashed upon France like a pack of carnivorous beasts. He aspired to power only for the material pleasures it could procure, and the money which clever men like he knew how to draw from muddy sources. Incidentally, I do not know why I am holding only Gambetta responsible for the historic honor of having gathered and unchained the miserable pack which still endures despite all the Panamas. Gambetta assuredly loved corruption; there lay in that thundering democrat a voluptuary, or rather a lusty dilettante who reveled in the stench of decomposition. But it must be said in his exoneration, and to their glory, that the friends with whom he surrounded himself, and which chance rather than judicious selection had rallied to his short−lived career, were rascals enough to hurl themselves of their own accord, upon that eternal prey, in which so very many jaws had already fleshed their furious teeth. Before attaining to the Chamber, Eugene Mortain had tackled every trade—even the lowest; he had passed through the lowest and shadiest depths of journalism, You cannot choose all your openings—you must take them where you find them. His initiation into Parisian life was spirited and prompt—and, moreover, carefully calculated. I mean that life which flows from the editorial offices to the Parliament, by way of the prefecture of police. Since he was devoured by immediate needs and ruinous appetites, there was no important blackmailing scheme or underhand affair of which our honest Eugene was not in some way or other the mysterious and violent brain. He had negotiated that stroke of genius whereby a great section of the press had been syndicated, in order to expedite the success of his vast undertakings. In this sort of discredited enterprise knew a good many of his calculations to be pure master−pieces, which revealed this little, rapidly cultivated provincial as an astounding psychologist and an admirable organizer of the evil instincts of the outcast. But he had the modesty never to boast of the beauty of his achievements, and the priceless art, by making use of others, of never exposing his own person in hours of danger. With constant craftiness and a perfect knowledge of his fields of operation, he always managed to avoid, by circumnavigation, the dank and muddy swamps of the police correctional, into which so many others clumsily allowed themselves to be engulfed. It is true that my assistance—be it said without fatuity—was not entirely useless to him in many circumstances. He was, into the bargain, a charming fellow; yes, in truth, a charming fellow. He could only be reproached for an awkwardness of demeanor—a persistent vestige of his provincial education—and vulgar details which added to the unpleasant conspicuousness of his too recently acquired wealth. But all these things were only externals which concealed all the better, from casual observers, whatever subtle resources his mind possessed, together with his acute instincts, his shrewd agility, and all the greedy and terrible tenacity of his soul. To rightly appreciate that soul it would have been necessary to see—as I, alas, have seen them so many times!—the two wrinkles which, at certain moments of relaxation, drooped from the corners of his lips and gave a frightful expression to his mouth—Ah yes, he was a charming fellow! “By judicious duels he silenced the malevolent rumors which always surround meteoric personalities. His natural gaiety and good—natured cynicism (which we readily considered an amiable paradox), no less than his lucrative and widely publicized love−affairs, succeeded in acquiring for him a questionable reputation, which was, however, enough for a future statesman who Was yet to go through the mill. He also possessed that marvelous faculty of being able to speak for five hours and on any subject, without ever expressing an idea. His quenchless eloquence poured forth ceaseless and indefatigable—the slow, monotonous, and suicidal torrent of the political vocabulary—and just as fluently upon questions of the merchant marine as on school reform, on finance as well as the beaux arts, on agriculture as well as religion. The parliamentary reporters recognized in him their own universal incompetence, and patterned their written jargon after his spoken gibberish. Obliging when it cost him nothing; generous and even prodigal when it might be very profitable to him; arrogant and servile according to circumstances and individuals; awkwardly skeptical, grossly corrupt, an enthusiast devoid of spontaneity and an unspontaneous wit—he was liked by everyone. Therefore his swift rise surprised and disconcerted no one. It was, to the contrary, favorably received by different political parties, for Eugene was not considered a fierce partisan, he discouraged no hope or ambition, and it was not unknown that, when the time was ripe, an understanding might be reached with him. All that mattered was to set the price. Such was the man and such the 'charming fellow' in whom my last hopes rested, and who actually held my life and death between his fingers. You will notice that in this hastily outlined sketch of my friend I have modestly effaced myself, although I collaborated vigorously, and often by curious methods, in the making of his career. I might tell any number of stories which are not, you may believe, exceptionally edifying. But what good would a complete confession be, since you may guess at all my depravities without any necessity for further display? And then, my role opposite this bold and prudent scamp was always—I do not say insignificant, ah nor laudable, for you would laugh in my face—but it remained almost a secret. Allow me to remain in that scarcely discreet shadow with which I have been pleased to shroud those years of sinister struggle and shady machination. Eugene does not 'acknowledge' me. And I myself, out of what remains of a quite bizarre modesty, occasionally feel an overwhelming repugnance at the thought that I might easily pass for his 'cat's−paw'. Besides, it occasionally happened that for entire months I lost sight of him, and 'gave him the slip', as we say, finding in the gambling−dens, at the Stock Exchange and in the dressing−rooms of kept women, sustenance which I was tired of seeking in politics, and whose quest was more to my taste for laziness and the unexpected. Sometimes, in the grip of a sudden poetic mood, I buried myself in a God−forsaken corner of the country, and in the presence of nature aspired to purity, silence and moral rehabilitation which, alas! never lasted very long. And I returned to Eugene at times of crisis. He did not always welcome me with the cordiality I demanded of him. It was obvious that he would have liked to get rid of me. But with a clean, sharp cut of the check−rein, I recalled him to the reality of our mutual situation. One day I distinctly saw the flame of murder glowing in his eyes. I was not alarmed, but firmly placed my hand upon his shoulder, like a gendarme does to a robber, and I said banteringly: “What of it? What will it get you? My corpse itself will accuse you. Don't be so stupid! I've let you get where you wanted. I've never crossed your ambition. To the contrary, I have worked for you as well as I was able... loyally, isn't it true? Do you think it's pleasant for me to see us—you on top, strutting in the limelight, and me at the bottom, stupidly floundering through the mire? And then, by a flip of the hand, this marvelous career, laboriously built up by us both—” “Oh! by us both... “ hissed Eugene. “Yes, by us both, swine!” I repeated, exasperated by this untimely correction. “Yes, by a flip of the hand... a breath... and you know it—I could destroy that marvelous career. I need only say one word, you cur, to hurl you from power to the workhouse; to make of the Minister you are—ah, so ironically!—the galley slave you might be if justice still existed and I weren't the basest of cowards. Well! I will not make that gesture, and I won't say the word. I leave you to receive the adulation of men and the esteem of foreign courts, because, you see... I find it stupendously amusing. Only, I want my share, you hear!... my share. And what do I ask? What I ask is ridiculous. Nothing—crumbs... although I might demand everything—everything! I beg you—don't exasperate me any further; don't drive me to the wall any longer. Don't force me to create melodramatic scenes. For the day I have had enough of life, enough, of the slime, that slime—your slime, whose intolerable odor I smell about me all the time... well, that day his Excellency Eugene Mortain won't laugh, my boy. I swear it!” Then, with an embarrassed smile, in which the folds around his drooping lips gave his face an expression of beastly fear and impotent lust to kill, Eugene said to me: “But you're crazy to tell me all this... and apropos of what? Have I refused you anything, you sorehead?” And, gaily, with a multiplicity of gesture and grimace which bewildered me, he comically added; “Do you want the Cross of the Legion of Honor, eh?” Yes, truly, he was a charming fellow. +PART 3 + +Some days after the scene of violence which followed my unfortunate defeat I met Eugene again at a friend's house, the home of that good Mme. G—, where we had both been invited to dine. Our handshake was cordial and you'd have thought nothing unpleasant had passed between us. “I don't see you anymore,” he reproached me, in that tone of noncommittal geniality which in him was only the refinement of hatred. “Have you been ill?” “Certainly not. I travel towards oblivion, that's all.” “Incidentally—have you recovered your senses? I'd like very much to talk to you for five minutes after dinner... if you don't mind.” “Then you've got something new?” I asked with a bitter smile, so he might see that I refused to be dismissed as a matter of little consequence. “I?” he said. “No... nothing... a tentative project. Well, we'll see.” I was ready with an impertinent reply when Mme. G—, an enormous bundle of swaying flowers, dancing feathers and billowing lace, interrupted our + + +conversation. “Ah, my dear Minister,” she sighed, “when will you ever rid us of these dreadful socialists?” And she carried Eugene off to a group of young women who, by the way they were grouped in a corner of the salon, impressed me with being there for hire, like those nocturnal creatures at a cafe−concert who, with their excessive décolletage and borrowed finery, add the final touch to their tawdry surroundings. Mme. G— had the reputation of playing an important part in Society and the Government, and among the innumerable comedies of Parisian life, the influence attributed to her was not one of the least amusing. The paltry chroniclers of the petty events of that time seriously related (after establishing brilliant parallels in the past), that her salon was the starting−point and the goal of political careers and literary aspirations; and consequently the rendezvous of all the young and ambitious, and the old and likewise. According to them, it was there that contemporary history was made, there the downfall and accession of cabinets was plotted, and there, amid genial intrigues and delicious small−talk, + + +for it was a salon where people talked—that foreign alliances as well as academic elections were negotiated. It was said that M. Sadi Carnot himself—who then reigned over French hearts—had been given to clever maneuvers in his dealings with this formidable power, and to keep in its good graces he gallantly offered it, for lack of his approbation, the most beautiful flowers of the Elysee gardens and the city hothouses. From having known M. Thiers and M. Guizot, Cavour and the elder Metternich, during the time of her, or their youth—Mme. G— was not very sure of her chronology on that point—this ancient personage retained a prestige with which the Republic loved to adorn itself, as with a perennial grace; and her salon benefited by the posthumous glory which those illustrious names (invoked on all occasions) recalled to the shrunken individualities of the present. Moreover, people went to this select salon as to a county fair; and never have I seen—I who've seen so many a stranger medley of human beings or a more ridiculous social masquerade. There was a host of out casts from the worlds of politics, + + +journalism, clubs, society, the theatre and the world at large—and women of the same sort—she received them all. No one was deceived by this pseudo−atmosphere, but each one found it incumbent—in order to exalt himself—to glorify a notoriously low environment in which many of us found, not only scarcely mentionable sustenance, but even our only reason for being. Besides, I have an idea that most of the salons so famous in former times where roving political ambitions and unemployed literary pretensions of the most varied species came to commune, resembled this one pretty accurately... No more am I convinced that this one differed essentially from others highly praised in lyrical panegyrics and on all occasions, for their difficulty of access or their exquisite moral standards. The truth is that Mme. G—, stripped of her exaggerated fame and poetic legends and reduced to the real character of her worldly personality, was just a very vulgar−minded old woman, of scant and, in the bargain extremely vicious education. No longer able to cultivate the flower of vice in her own garden, she cultivated it elsewhere with a tranquil + + +shamelessness. It was difficult to know whether its boldness or its ingenuousness was more to be admired. For professional love−affairs, which she had been obliged to abandon, she had substituted a mania for contriving extramarital unions and separations, which it was her delight and her only sin to follow up, direct, protect and hatch; and thus warm her shriveled old heart by the heat of their forbidden flames. At the home of this great politician, sanctified by Messieurs Thiers and Guizot, by Cavour and the elder Metternich, you were always sure to find kindred souls, impending adultery, lusts under weigh, and passions of all kinds, freshly equipped for the race at any time an invaluable stock−in−trade in the event of sentimental ruptures and dull evenings. Why did I have the idea of going to Mme. G—'s that particular evening? I don't know, for I was quite melancholy and scarcely in the mood for merrymaking. My anger with Eugene was quite appeased, at least momentarily, and a great fatigue—a great disgust, had replaced it: disgust with myself, with others, with everybody. Since that morning I had reflected seriously on my situation, + + +and despite the Minister's promises with which, moreover, I had decided not to let him off easily—I saw no suitable outcome. I realized that it was quite difficult for my friend to procure me a permanent official situation, something honorably parasitical and officially remunerative, by whose means I might be enabled to end my days in peace—a respectable old man and an irreproachable office−holder. Besides, it is probable that I would have immediately bungled this position; then, from all sides, simultaneous objections would have been raised in the name of public morality and the decency of the Republic, to which the Minister, when questioned, would not have known how to reply. Anything he could offer me through transitory and miserable expedients and sorry juggling of the budget, would only have been a postponement of the inevitable hour of my downfall. And then I could not even count on this minimum of favors and protection forever, any more than Eugene could count upon the everlasting stupidity of the public. Many dangers already threatened the cabinet, and many scandals, to which, now and then, some newspapers, dissatisfied with the graft they + + +were receiving, were making more and more direct allusions and undermining the personal security of my protector, Eugene only maintained his power by aggressive attacks upon unpopular and defeated parties, and also by cash payments which, as I suspected at the time, and was later demonstrated, he received from outside, in exchange each time for a pound of the country's flesh. I had carefully considered working for the downfall of my comrade, and cleverly worming my way to the side of a likely ministerial leader, and thus, by the aid of this new collaborator, recovering a sort of social virginity. Everything impelled me to it: my nature, my own welfare, and also the violently delicious pleasure of vengeance. But besides the uncertainties and dangers which surrounded this scheme, I had neither the courage to risk another adventure, nor to repeat such maneuvers. I had burned my candle at both ends, and I was weary of these perilous and precarious adventures which had led me—whither? I was experiencing mental fatigue, a paralysis of my energies, and all my faculties were diminishing while still in their prime, sapped by + + +neurasthenia. Ah, how I regretted not having followed the straight roads of life! At the moment I sincerely hope for nothing better than the mediocre joys of middle−class respectability, and I wished no more, and could bear no more of these sudden jolts of fortune, these choices of misery which had not left me a moment of respite, and had made of my existence a perpetual and tortured anxiety. Then what was to become of me? The future seemed sadder and even more hopeless to me than winter twilight falling in a sickroom. In a little while, after dinner, what new infamy would the infamous Minister propose to me? Into what deeper mire, from which I could never rise, did he want to thrust me, and make me disappear forever? I glanced about for him amid the throng. He was hovering about the women. Nothing about his skull or shoulders indicated that he bore the heavy burden of his crimes. He was carefree and gay. And to see him thus redoubled my rage at the realization of our mutual impotence—his to save me from shame, and mine to fling him into it... ah yes, to fling him into it! Crushed by these multiple, piercing + + +preoccupations, it was not astounding that I had lost my fervor, and that the beautiful creatures selected and displayed by Mme. G— for the pleasure of her guests, left me cold. During dinner I behaved in an extremely disagreeable fashion, and scarcely spoke to my neighbors whose lovely bosoms gleamed amidst their flowers and jewels. It was believed that my electoral defeat was the cause of this somber mood in one so ordinarily joyful and gallant. “Cheer up!” they said to me. “What the devil, you're still young! You need guts for a political career. Better luck next time.” To these banal consolations, engaging smiles, and inviting bosoms, I obstinately replied: “No... no. Don't talk politics to me. It's infamous! Don't talk to me any more about universal suffrage. It's idiotic! I've had enough. I don't want to hear them mentioned again.” Then Mme. G—, her feathers, flowers and lace suddenly rising before me in variegated and scented waves whispered in my ear with the affected raptures and moist coquetries of an old procuress: “Love is everything, you see. There is never + + +anything but love! Try love! Listen: just tonight there is a young Romanian here... passionate... ah, a poet, my dear, and a countess! I'm sure she's mad about you. Anyhow, all women are mad about you. I'll introduce you.” I side−stepped this crudely arranged opportunity, and in a sullen and enervated silence persistently awaited the end of this interminable evening. Monopolized by everyone, it was quite late before Eugene could rejoin me. We took advantage of the fact that a celebrated diva was momentarily absorbing everyone's attention, to hide in a sort of little smoking−room which was lit by the discreet glow of a tall floor lamp, draped with rose−colored gauze. The Minister sat down on the couch, lit a cigarette, and while I negligently straddled a chair opposite him and crossed my arms on its back, he seriously said: “I've been thinking a lot about you these last few days.” Doubtless he expected some word of thanks, a friendly gesture, or a movement which might indicate interest or curiosity. I remained motionless, forcing + + +myself to preserve that air of haughty and almost insolent indifference, with which I had determined to receive the treacherous suggestions of my friend; for, from the beginning of the evening, I had set my heart on these suggestions being treacherous. Insolently, I pretended to look at the portrait of M. Thiers which occupied the top of the panel behind Eugene and was overcast by all the dark shadows which played across its over−varnished surface, with the exception, however, of his white pear shaped topknot which became of itself the unique and complete expression of the obliterated face. Muffled by the closed portieres, the sound of the party came to us like a distant hum. Shaking his head, the Minister went on: “Yes, I've thought of you a great deal. Well! it's difficult... quite difficult.” Again he grew silent, seeming to reflect on important matters. I took pleasure in prolonging the silence in order to enjoy the embarrassment into which this teasing attitude could not fail to throw my friend. Once more I was to see this dear protector before me, ridiculous and unmasked—perhaps suppliant! He remained + + +calm, however, and did not seem to be in the least concerned with the over—obvious hostility of my bearing. “You don't believe me,” he said, in a firm and tranquil voice. “Yes, I feel you don't believe me. You imagine I only think of fooling you, as I fool the others—isn't that true? Well, you're wrong, my boy. Besides, if this conversation bores you—it's easy enough to break it off.” He pretended to get up. “I didn't say that!” I protested, shifting my glance from M. Thiers' topknot to Eugene's icy face. “I didn't say anything.” “Then listen to me. Shall we talk, once and for all, and in all frankness, about our mutual situation?” “So be it! I'm listening.” Faced with his assurance, little by little I lost my own. Contrary to what I had so egotistically conjectured Eugene was regaining all his authority over me, and I felt him escaping me again. I felt it by that ease of gesture, that almost elegant manner, that firmness of tone and that entire self−possession which he never really displayed except when he was considering his most sinister strokes. At those times + + +he possessed a sort of forceful seductiveness, a magnetic power which it was difficult to resist, even though you were forewarned, Though I knew him, yet to my misfortune I had often been the victim of his malefic charm, which should never have surprised me again. Well! all my belligerence abandoned me, my hatred relaxed, and despite myself I found I was regaining confidence and so completely forgetting the past, that this man whose inexorable and fetid soul I had tracked to its darkest recesses—I discovered I was considering once more a generous friend, a hero of magnanimity—a savior! Ah, I would like the power to express the accent of force, crime, callousness and ease which he put into his words—and this is what he said to me: “You've seen politics close enough to know that a degree of power exists at which the most infamous man finds himself protected from himself by his own infamy; and even more strongly, against others, by the infamy of others. There is only one trait which is irreparable in a statesman: honesty! Honesty is negative and sterile; it is ignorant of the correct evaluation of appetite and ambition—the only powers + + +through which you can found anything durable. The proof of this is that idiot Favrot—the only honest man in the Cabinet, and also the only one whose political career is, by common consent, totally and forever lost! Just to let you know, my boy, that a campaign directed against me leaves me absolutely indifferent.” I made a rapid, ambiguous gesture: “Yes—yes... I know... they're talking about my ruin... my impending, downfall... the police.. the Mazas prison! 'Death to the robbers!' Absolutely! What don't they talk about? Well then? It makes me laugh, that's all! And you yourself, under pretext that you think you've been mixed up in some of my affairs of which, let me say in passing, you know only one side—under pretext of withholding—at least, you go shouting it all over—some vague papers about which, my boy, I give that!” Without interrupting himself, he showed me his extinguished cigarette, which he immediately crushed in an ashtray that lay on the little lacquer table beside him. “You yourself... you think you can terrify me into + + +compliance... blackmail me like an insolvent banker! You're a child! Think a minute. My downfall? Now, can you tell me who would dare, at this time, to assume the responsibility for such a piece of insanity? Who doesn't know that it would involve the cave−in of too many things; too many men whom it is no more possible to reach than I—under penalty of abdication or death? For I wouldn't be the only one to be overthrown. I wouldn't be the only one to wear the ball and chain. The entire Government, the entire Parliament, the entire Republic, whatever it may do, is linked up with what are called my transgressions, my embezzlements, my crimes. They think they've got me, and it's I who have them! Don't worry, I've got a good grip on them.” And he clutched an imaginary throat. The expression of his mouth, with its drooping corners, became hideous, and purple veinlets appeared in his eyeballs, which gave to his glance an implacable suggestion of murder. But he hastily composed himself, lit another cigarette, and went on: “Let them overthrow the Cabinet—agreed! And + + +I'll help in it. Thanks to the work of that honest Favrot, we're involved in a series of inextricable problem; whose logical solution is simply that they cannot possibly have any. A ministerial crisis is imminent, and an entirely new program. Please notice that I am, or at least I appear to be, alien to these difficulties. My responsibility is only a parliamentary fiction. In the hallways of the Chamber and in certain sections of the press, I am being adroitly separated from my colleagues. Thus, my personal situation of course remains politically clear. Better than that, upheld by the groups whose leaders I've succeeded in interesting in my career, sustained by the big banks and the great companies, I am becoming the one man indispensable to the new regime. I am the chosen President of the forthcoming Council. And it's ate the very moment when my downfall is proclaimed from all sides that I am attaining the peak of my career! I admit that it's comical, my boy, and that they haven't got hold of my hide yet.” Eugene had become sprightly again. The idea that there was no intermediate point for him between + + +these two poles: the Presidency of the Council or the Mazas prison, exhilarated his spirits. He drew close to me and tapping me on the knee, as he did in moments of relaxation or gaiety, he repeated: “Come... admit it's funny!” “Very funny!” I agreed. “But what place have I in all this?” “You? Well, here it is! You, my friend—must go away—disappear... a year... two years... what's that? You need to be forgotten.” And as I prepared to object: “But damn it all! Is it my fault?” Eugene cried, “If you've stupidly spoiled all the excellent jobs I've laid in your lap? A year—two years—it's soon over. You'll come back with a new virginity and I'll give you everything you want. Till then, nothing—I can do nothing. My word of honor! I can't do a thing.” I was still somewhat furious, but it was in a weak voice that, I cried: “Damn! damn! damn!” Eugene smiled, realizing that my resistance had ended with that outburst. “Come, come!” he said to me good−naturedly, “don't be obstinate. Listen to me. I've thought about it a good deal. You must go away. In your interest, for + + +your future. I can't think of anything else. Come! Are you... how shall I put it? Are you an embryologist?” He read my reply in the bewildered look I cast him. “No! you are no embryologist. Sad! very sad!” “Why do you ask that? Now what kind of a joke is it?” “Just this—that at this time I might easily obtain considerable funds—oh, relatively!—but at least substantial funds, for a scientific expedition they might be willing to entrust to you.” And without giving me time to reply, in short, humorous sentences accompanied by comical gestures he explained the business to me: “It involves going to India, Ceylon, I believe, to drag the sea, in the gulfs, and study what the scientists call the pelagic ooze, you understand? And among the gastropoda, the corals, the heteropoda, the madrepora, the siphonophora, the holothuroidea and radiolaria—how should I know?—to discover the primordial cell—pay close attention... the protoplasmic initum of organized life, or something like that. It's charming and as you see—very simple.” “Very simple indeed,” I murmured mechanically. + + +“Yes, but there it is,” concluded this true statesman, “you aren't an embryologist.” And with benevolent sorrow he added: “It's annoying!” My protector reflected a few moments. I was silent, not having had time to recover from the stupor into which this unexpected proposition had plunged me. “My God!” he went on, “there might be another expedition—for we actually have lots of expeditions and don't know what to spend the donor's money on. If I remember rightly, this one would be to go to the Fiji Islands and Tasmania, to study the various systems of penitentiary administration in use there, and their application to our social system. Only it's less amusing and I must warn you the funds are not enormous. And they're still cannibals down there, you know! You think I'm joking, eh? That I'm telling you a fairytale? But, my boy, all expeditions are like that. Ha!” Eugene started to laugh with gentle malice. “There is still the secret police. Ha ha! You might possibly find a good job in that... what do you say?” In difficult circumstances my mental faculties + + +become active and more acute, my energies are unleashed and I am endowed with a sudden influx of ideas, and a promptness of decision which always astonishes me and has often served me well. “Bah!” I cried, “after all I could easily be an embryologist once in my life. What do I risk? Science won't die of it. It's been through the mill! Done! I accept the expedition to Ceylon.” “And you're right. Bravo!” applauded the Minister; “seeing that embryology, my boy, Darwin, Haeckel... Carl Vogt, after all—it must be a great joke! Ah, my lad you won't be bored down there. Ceylon is marvelous. They say there are extraordinary women there, little lace makers—beautiful—temperamental! It's the earthly paradise! Come to the Ministry tomorrow and we'll wind up the business officially. In the meantime you don't have to shout it from the housetops, because you know I'm playing a dangerous joke which might cost me dearly. Come!” We arose and, while I went back to the salon on the Minister's arm, he said again, with charming irony: “Eh? After all! Suppose you discover the cell? + + +Who knows? Berthelot would make a face, eh?” This scheme had given me back a little courage and a little gaiety. Not that it pleased me entirely; I would have preferred a general receivership, for instance, to this commission as an illustrious embryologist, or a well−upholstered seat in the State's Council. But you have to compromise, and besides, the adventure was not without its amusing aspect. From a simple political vagabond, such as I had been a few moments before, you cannot, by a wave of the ministerial wand, become an eminent scientist about to violate the mysteries at the very springs of life, without experiencing something of a mystifying pride and a comical grandeur. The soiree, begun miserably, was ending in hilarity. I accosted Mme. G—, who was excitedly organizing love, and promenading adultery from group to group and couple to couple. “And that adorable Romanian countess,” I asked her, “"is she still mad about me?” “Still, my dear...” She took me by the arm. Her feathers were + + +drooping, her flowers wilted, and her flounces hung limply. “Come along!” she said; “she's in the little Guizot salon, flirting with Princess Onane.” “What! she too?” “But my dear,” replied this great politician, “at her age, and with her poetic nature, it would really be unfortunate if she had not tried everything!” + + +PART 4 + +My preparations were soon made. I was lucky in that the young Romanian countess, who had become quite attached to me, was willing to assist me with her advice and, I say it with shame—with her purse too. Besides I had all the luck. My expedition got off to a good start. By an exceptional anomaly of bureaucratic procedure, eight days after that conclusive conversation in Mme. G—'s salons, I obtained the above−mentioned funds without the slightest red tape or delay. They were more generously computed than I had dared to hope, for I was familiar with the swinishness of the government in these matters, and the poor little arbitrary budgets by which they so pitifully gratify scientists on expeditions—real scientists. Undoubtedly, lowed this unusual liberality the fact that, not being a scientist at all, I had more need than anyone else for greater resources, in order to play the part. They had counted on the maintenance of two secretaries and two servants, the costly purchase of + + +anatomical instruments, microscopes, photographic apparatus, collapsible boats, diving−bells, and even wide−mouthed jars for scientific collections, hunting rifles and cages designed to bring captured animals back alive. Truly, the government does things in grand style, and I could not help but praise it. It goes without saying that I did not buy any of these impedimenta, and that I decided not to take anyone along, counting upon my ingenuity alone to find my way in the midst of these untracked jungles of science and India. I profited by my leisure to inform myself about Ceylon, its customs and landscapes, and to construct an idea of the life I would lead down there in those terrible tropics. Even after eliminating the exaggerated, boastful, and mendacious elements of travelers' tales, I was enchanted by what I read—particularly by this detail, reported by a sober German savant: that in the suburbs of Colombo there exists, amid fairy gardens by the sea, a marvelous villa bungalow, as they say, in which a rich and eccentric Englishman maintains a sort of harem, where all the races of India, from the black + + +Tamoules to the sinuous bayaderes of Lahore, and the demoniac bacchantes of Benares, are represented by perfect specimens of femininity. I definitely made up my mind to find some means of gaining access to this amateur polygamist, and to confine my studies of comparative embryology to that spot. The Minister, whom I visited to say goodbye and confide my plans, approved all these projects, and quite gaily praised the virtue of my economy. When he left me he spoke with an emotional eloquence, while I, under the torrent of his words, experienced a tenderness—the pure, refreshing and sublime tenderness of a good man. “Go, my friend, and come back to us stronger... come back to us a new man and a glorious savant. Your exile, which I have no doubt you will employ in the accomplishment of great deeds, will replenish your energies for future struggles. It will temper them in the very springs of life, in the cradle of humanity which... of humanity, of which... Go... and if on your return you find—which I cannot believe—if you can, I say, bad memories persisting, difficulties... hostility... + + +an obstacle to your rightful ambitions... remember that you possess enough little memoranda about the governmental personnel to triumph over it with a high hand. Sursum corda! Count on me, besides. While you are down there, courageous pioneer of progress and a soldier of science... while you are sounding the gulfs and questing the mysterious atolls for France, for our dear France—I shan't forget you, you may well believe me. Cleverly, step by step, through the Agence Havas and in my own newspapers, I shall find a means of creating a commotion about you—our coming young embryologist. I'll devise magnificent and pathetic blurbs—'Our great embryologist'... 'We learn from our young and illustrious savant, whose embryological discoveries, etc.'... 'While he was studying a hitherto unknown holoihurian under twenty fathoms of water, our indefatigable embryologist barely escaped being carried off by a shark... a terrific struggle... etc.' Go, go, my friend, work fearlessly for the glory of the nation. Today a race is not only treat by virtue of its arms; it is great, above all, through its arts... through its sciences. The peaceful conquests of science + + +serve civilization more than the conquests of... etc., etc... Cedant arma sapientio!” I wept for joy, pride, grandeur and exaltation—the exaltation of my being towards something stupendous, and stupendously beautiful. Projected beyond my ego, I know not whence, I had, at that moment, another soul—an almost divine soul, a creative and sacrificial soul—the soul of some sublime hero in whom the supreme confidence of the nation resides—and all the strongest hopes of humanity. As for the Minister—that bandit Eugene—he could scarcely contain his emotion. He had real enthusiasm in his glance, a sincere quaver in his voice. Two little tears fell from his eyes. He almost crushed my hand in his grip. For several moments both of us were the unconscious and comic toys of our own deception. Ah, when I think of it! + + +PART 5 + +Armed with letters of Recommendation to the authorities at Ceylon, I finally embarked at Marseille one splendid afternoon, on the Saghalien. From the moment I set foot on the steamer, I was immediately aware of the value of an official title, and how, by the prestige which attaches to it, a fallen man, such as I was then, rises in the estimation of unknown people and passersby, and consequently in his own. The captain, who 'knew my works', overwhelmed me with attentions—almost with honors. The most comfortable cabin had been reserved for me, and also the best place at table. As the news had rapidly spread among the passengers of the presence on board of a celebrated scientist, everyone went out of his way to pay me his respects. I saw nothing but a glow of admiration on their faces. The women themselves gave evidence of curiosity and good will; some, discreetly, and others, by manifesting a bolder sentiment. One, above all, violently attracted my attention. She was a marvelous creature with heavy copper hair and + + +green eyes flecked with gold, like those of jungle beasts. She was traveling with three maids—one of whom was Chinese. I inquired about her from the captain. “She's English,” he said to me, “they call her Miss Clara. The most extraordinary woman on earth. Although she's only twenty−eight years old, she's been all over the world already. Just now she lives in China. This is the fourth time I've seen her aboard.” “Rich?” “Oh, very rich! They tell me her father, who's been dead a long time, was an opium dealer in Canton. That's where she was born, in fact. She's a little cracked, I think, but charming.” “Married?” “No.” “And?” Into that conjunction I put a whole battalion of intimate and even impertinent questions. The captain smiled. “That I can't say. I don't think so. I've never noticed anything—here.” Such was the reply of the good mariner who, it + + +seemed to me, knew a good deal more about it than he wished to say. I did not insist, but I said to myself: “You, my girl... absolutely!” The first passengers with whom I became acquainted were two Chinese of the London Embassy and a Norman gentleman who was on his way to Tonkin. The latter was immediately quite willing to confide in me. He was an ardent hunter. “I'm running away from France,” he told me. “I escape every time I can. Since we've become a republic, France is a lost country. There are too many poachers, and they're the masters. Would you believe that I can't keep any game on my place any more! The poachers kill it for me, and the courts uphold them. It's a bit too much! Without counting the fact that the few they leave croak of God knows what epidemics. So I'm going to Tonkin. What a fine hunting−ground! It's the fourth time, my dear sir, that I'm going to Tonkin.” “Ah, really?” “Yes! In Tonkin every sort of game is abundant. But especially the peacock. What shooting, sir! Besides, it's a dangerous sport; you have to have an + + +eye for it.” “Doubtless these are ferocious peacocks?” “My God, no. But this is the way it is: Wherever there are deer, there are tigers... and wherever there are tigers, there are peacocks!” “An aphorism?” “You must understand me. Follow carefully... the tiger eats the deer, and—” “The peacock eats the tiger?” I gravely suggested. “Absolutely... that is to say... here is the thing. When the tiger is gorged with the deer, 'he falls asleep; then he awakes, relieves himself and goes away. What does the peacock do? Perched in the neighboring trees, he prudently awaits this departure, then he drops to earth and eats the tiger's dung. And that is the precise moment you must surprise him... “ And with his arms raised as though holding a rifle, he made the gesture of ,aiming at an imaginary peacock: “Ah, what peacocks! you haven't the least idea! For, what you take for peacocks in our aviaries and gardens, aren't even turkeys. They're nothing. My dear sir, I've killed all sorts of things. I've even killed + + +men. Well! never has the report of a rifle given me so keen an emotion as the times I've fire at peacocks. Peacocks, how can I tell you, sir... are magnificent to kill!” Then, after a silence, he concluded: “Travel—that's the thing! In traveling you see extraordinary things which make you think.” “Doubtless,” I agreed, “but one must be a great observer, like you.” “It's true! I've observed a great deal,” the good gentleman ostentatiously said. “Well, of all the countries I've traveled in—Japan, China; Madagascar, Haiti, and a section of Australia—I know none more entertaining than Tonkin. Now perhaps you think you've seen hens?” “Yes, I believe so—” “Your error, my dear sir, you have never seen hens. You have to go to Tonkin for that, and then you won't see them. They're in the forests, and they hide in the trees. You never see them. Only, I have a trick. I travel upstream in a sampan, with a cock in a cage. I stop at the edge of the forest and hang the cage at the end of a branch. The cock crows. Then from all the depths of the forest, the hens come... + + +and come. They come in unnumbered bands. And I kill them! I have killed as many as twelve hundred in the same day!” “It's remarkable!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. But not as much so as peacocks, however. Ah, the peacocks!” But this gentleman was not only a hunter; he was also a gambler. Long before we were in sight of Naples, the two Chinese, the peacock−killer and I had gotten up a fast game of poker. Thanks to my special knowledge of that game, when we arrived at Port Said, I had relieved these three incomparable gentlemen of their money and tripled the capital I was bearing toward the joys of the tropics, and the Unknown of fictitious embryology. + + +PART 6 + +At that time I would have been incapable of the meagerest poetical description—poetry having come to me afterwards, with love. To be sure, I enjoyed the beauties of nature, like everybody else, but they had never overwhelmed me to the point of ecstasy; I enjoyed them, in my way, which was that of a conservative republican. And I said to myself: “Nature, seen from a train window or the porthole of a ship, is always and everywhere herself; her principal characteristic being that she lacks the ability for improvisation. She repeats herself constantly, possessing but a small stock of forms, combinations and aspects, which are found here and there in almost identical arrangements. In her immense and clumsy monotony, she varies only in scarcely perceptible nuances, which are only interesting to trainers of little animals, which I am not—though an embryologist—and to splitters of hairs. Briefly, when you have traveled over a hundred square miles of countryside, no matter where, you have seen everything.” And that little swine Eugene had + + +exclaimed: “You'll see nature... trees... flowers!” As far as I'm concerned, trees get on my nerves, and I only tolerate flowers in the modiste's shops, and on hats. As for tropical nature—Monte Carlo would have been amply sufficient to my needs as an esthetic connoisseur of landscapes, and my dreams of distant travel. I understand palm trees, cocoanuts, bananas, mangroves, shaddock and pandanus, only if I can gather in their shade all sorts of pretty little women who munch between their lips something better than the betel−nut. Coconut tree: the cocotte−tree. I only like trees of this truly Parisian classification. Ah, what a deaf and blind brute I was then! How could I, with such nauseating cynicism, have blasphemed the infinite beauty of Form, which passes from man to beast, from beast to plant, from the plant to the mountain, the mountain to the cloud, and from the cloud to the pebble, which contains in reflection all the splendors of life! Although it was the month of October, the crossing of the Red Sea was excruciating. The heat + + +was crushing, and the air so heavy on our European lungs that many times I thought I would die of asphyxiation. During the day we scarcely left the saloon where the great Indian punka, constantly in motion, gave us the evanescent illusion of a fresh breeze; and we passed the nights on the deck where, however, it was no more possible for us to sleep than in our cabins. The Norman gentleman panted like an ailing bull, and thought no more of relating his stories of the hunting in Tonkin. The most boastful and intrepid of the passengers were the most completely knocked out... inert of limb and wheezing like foundered beasts. There was nothing more ridiculous than the sight of these people, prostrate in their variegated pajamas. Only the two Chinese seemed insensible to this flaming temperature; they had changed their behavior no more than their clothes, and spent their time in silent promenades on the deck or playing cards or dice in their cabins. We couldn't get interested in anything. Besides, nothing distracted us from the torture of feeling ourselves cooking slowly and steadily, like a stew. + + +The steamer was sailing across the gulf: above us, around us, there was nothing but the blue sky and the blue sea—a dark blue—the blue of heated metal here and there reflecting the glow of the forge upon its surface. We could scarcely make out the coasts of Somaliland—that red and distant mass shrouded by the vaporous heat of mountains of burning sand, where no tree or grass grew, and whose shores contained this sinister sea—an immense reservoir of bailing water—in a constantly seething cauldron. I might say that during this crossing I displayed great courage, and succeeded in concealing my actual state of suffering. I attained it through conceit and love. Chance—was it really chance, or the captain?—had given me Miss Clara for a table−mate. An incident at table brought about our almost immediate acquaintance. Besides, my high station and the curiosity of which I was the object, authorized certain lapses from the ordinary conventions of good breeding. As I had learned from the captain, Miss Clara was returning to China after dividing her entire + + +summer between England, for her business affairs, Germany for her health, and France for her amusements. She confessed to me that Europe disgusted her more and more. She could no longer endure its provincial customs, its ridiculous habits, and its skimpy landscapes. She only felt happy and free in China. She was of a very resolute demeanor, a very extraordinary mode of life, talked sometimes at random and sometimes with a lively feeling for things; of a feverish gaiety pushed to the bizarre, sentimental and philosophic, ignorant and educated, impure and frank and mysterious. Finally, she was given to strange lapses, flights of fancy, incomprehensible caprices and terrible desires, and intrigued me greatly although one must expect everything of an eccentric Englishwoman. And I never doubted from the start I who, in the matter of women, had only known—Parisian cocottes—and what is worse, female politicians and literati—I never doubted that I might easily have conquered this one, and I looked forward to enjoying my trip with her in an unexpected and charming manner. With her reddish hair and gleaming skin, a laugh always ready + + +to peal forth from her fleshy red lips, she was truly the delight of the ship and like its soul was en route towards mad adventures and the idyllic freedom of virgin countries and the fiery tropics. The Eve of that marvelous paradise—a flower herself—flower of intoxication and the tasty fruit of eternal desire, I could see her wander and skip about amid the flowers and golden fruits of the primordial orchards, no longer in this dress of white poplin, which molded her lithe form and filled out her bosom with pulsating life, like a bud, but in the supernatural splendor of her biblical nudity. I was not slow to recognize the error of my gallant diagnosis, and the fact that Miss Clara) contrary to what I had so egotistically predicted, was impregnably virtuous. Far from being frustrated by this discovery, she appeared all the prettier to me, and I conceived an actual pride in the fact that she, the pure and virtuous, accepted me—vile and debauched as I was—with such simple and gracious confidence. I did not want to listen to the inner voices which were crying; 'This woman lies. This woman is laughing at you. Look, idiot! at those eyes which + + +have seen everything; that mouth which has kissed everything; those hands which have caressed very thing; that flesh which has so often trembled with all the lusts, and in every possible embrace! Pure? Ha! And those knowing gestures? And that softness and suppleness, and those movements of the body which retain all the gestures of the caress? And that bust, swollen like the calyx of a flower drunk with pollen?' No, in truth, I did not listen to them. And for me it was a deliciously chaste sensation, compounded of tenderness, gratitude and pride—a sensation of moral rehabilitation, to enter further every day into an intimacy with a lovely and virtuous person, whom I decided at the beginning would never be anything to me—nothing but a soul! This idea elevated me and rehabilitated me in my own eyes. Thanks to this pure daily contact, I was gaining—yes, gaining self−respect. All the mire of my past was being transformed to luminous azure, and I glimpsed the future through the tranquil, limpid emerald of continual happiness. Oh, how far from me were Eugene Mortain, Mme. G—, and their like! How all those faces of grinning phantoms were melting by + + +the minute, more and more, beneath the celestial glance of this lustral creature through whom I was being revealed to myself as a new man, with generosity, tenderness, and impulses I would never have expected of myself. Oh, the ironical tenderness of love! Ah, the comic enthusiasms which lie within the human soul! Often, beside Clara, I believed in the reality and grandeur of my mission, and that I had in me the genius to revolutionize the embryology of the entire universe. One thing leading to another, we soon arrived at mutual confidences. By a series of cleverly calculated lies which, prompted on one hand by vanity and on the other by a quite natural desire not to lower myself in the mind of my friend, I displayed myself entirely to my advantage in my role of scientist, narrated my biological discoveries, my academic successes, and all the hopes which the most illustrious men of science placed in my theory and my trip. Then, abandoning these somewhat arduous heights, I mixed anecdotes of my social life with appreciations of literature and art, half−sound and half−perverse, enough to interest the mind of a + + +woman without disturbing it. And these light and frivolous conversations to which I forced myself to give a witty turn, endowed my grave scientific personality with a particular and perhaps unique character. I succeeded in conquering Miss Clara during that crossing of the Red Sea. Overcoming my discomfort, I was able to devise ingenious and delicate attentions which assuaged her own discomfort. When the Saghalien touched at Aden to take on coal, she and I were perfect friends—friends blessed by that miraculous friendship which is not troubled by a single glance, and whose lovely lucidity is not tarnished by an ambiguous gesture or a guilty design. Still, the voices in me kept crying: 'But look at those nostrils which breathe in all life with terrific lust. Look at those teeth which so often have bitten into the bleeding fruit of sin.' Heroically, I silenced them. It was a great joy when we entered the waters of the Indian Ocean; after the excruciating and torturing days on the Red Sea, it seemed like a resurrection. A new life, a life of gaiety and activity took possession of the ship, although the temperature was still very warm, the air was delicious to breathe, + + +like the scent of furs that a woman has just laid aside. A light breeze, apparently impregnated with all the perfumes of the tropical flora, refreshed the body and the mind. And all about us there was a dazzling brilliance. The sky, translucid as a fairy grotto, was of a green gold, streaked with rose; the calm sea, heaving with a powerful rhythm under the breath of the monsoon, lay before us extraordinarily blue, and mottled here and there by great emerald−green whorls. We actually felt the physical caress of the approach of magic continents, the lands of light where life, one mysterious day, had uttered its first infantile cries. And on all our faces, even the Norman gentleman's, there was a little of that sky, that sea, and that light. Miss Clara—it goes without saying—attracted and greatly excited the men; she was always surrounded by a court of passionate adulators. I was not at all jealous, being certain that she considered them all ridiculous, and that she preferred me to all the others, even to the two Chinese with whom she held frequent conversations, but whom she did not look at (as she did me) with that strange look in + + +which I seemed several times, and with great reluctance, to have discovered moral complicity and a secret meaning. Among the most fervent there was a French explorer who Was going to the Malay Peninsula to study its copper−mines, and an English officer whom we had taken on at Aden, and who was returning to his post at Bombay. They were, each in his own way, heavy but amusing brutes, whom Clara loved to make fun of. The explorer was ceaselessly talking about his recent trek across central Africa. As for the English officer, who was a captain in the artillery, he tried to dazzle Us by describing all his inventions in ballistics. One evening on deck, after dinner, we were all gathered about Clara, who was delightfully lounging in a rocking−chair. Some smoked cigarettes and others dreamed. All of us, at heart, had this same desire for Clara, and all, with the same dream of ardent possession, followed the play of her little feet clad in their small pink mules, which, with the rocking of the chair, extended from the perfumed calyx of her skirts, like the pistils of a flower. We said nothing. + + +The night was magically balmy and the ship glided voluptuously along on the sea, as though on silk. Clara addressed the explorer: “Well?” she said, in a malicious voice, “you're not joking? You've actually eaten human flesh?” “Yes, certainly!” he replied proudly, and in a tone which established his indisputable superiority over us. “We simply had to... you eat what you can get.” “What does it taste like?” she asked, slightly disgusted. He thought a moment. Then making a vague gesture: “My God!” he said, “how can I explain it? Imagine, adorable lady—imagine pork—pork pickled slightly in nutmeg oil.” Careless and resigned, he added: “It's not very good. Besides, you don't eat it out of gluttony. I prefer a leg of mutton, or a beefsteak.” “Obviously!” consented Clara. And, as though out of politeness she had wished to minimize the horror of this anthropology, she specified: “Because, undoubtedly, you only ate negro flesh!” “Negro!” he exclaimed with a start. “Ugh! Luckily, + + +dear lady, I was not driven to that harsh necessity. We never lacked for whites, thank God! Our escort was large, and composed chiefly of Europeans. Marseillais, Germans, Italians... a little of everything. When we were too hungry, we slaughtered one of the escort, preferably a German. The German, divine lady, is fatter than the other races, and he provides more. And then, for us other Frenchmen, it was one German less! The Italian is dry and tough—.full of sinews—” “And the Marseillais?” I interrupted. “Ugh!” declared the traveler, tossing his head. “The Marseillais is much too rich; he smells of garlic and also, I don't know why, of grease. I wouldn't say he was appetizing... no... he's edible, that's all.” Turning to Clara with gestures of protestation, he insisted: “But negro flesh—never! I think I would have thrown it up. I know people who have eaten it... they fell sick. The negro is indigestible. There are even some, I assure you, who are poisonous.” But, scrupulously, he corrected himself: “After all, you have to try him once—like + + +mushrooms, eh? Perhaps the Indian negroes allow themselves to be eaten?” “No!” affirmed the English officer in an abrupt and categorical tone that, in the midst of laughter, closed this culinary discussion which was beginning to turn my stomach. A little discountenanced, the explorer went on: “No matter... despite all these slight annoyances, I am very happy to have left again. In Europe I'm sick... I'm not alive... I don't know where to go. In Europe I feel degraded and imprisoned, like a beast in a cage. Impossible to find elbow−room, extend your arms or open your mouth, without bumping into stupid prejudices and idiotic laws... evil customs. Last year, charming lady, I was walking through a wheat field. I mowed down the blades around me with my cane... it amused me. Surely I have the right to do what pleases me, haven't I? A peasant ran up and started to shout, insult me, order me out of his field. It's unimaginable! What would you have done in my place? I dealt him three vigorous blows on the head with my cane. He fell with a fractured skull. Well, imagine what happened to me—” + + +“Perhaps you ate him—?” Clara laughingly suggested. “No. They dragged me before some judges or other, who sentenced: me to two months in prison and ten thousand francs fine and damages. For a damned peasant! And they call that civilization! Can you believe it! Well, much obliged—in Africa, if I had been sentenced like that every time I'd kill a negro, or even a white—” “Oh, you've also killed negroes?” said Clara. “Yes, certainly, adorable lady.” “Why—since you don't eat them?” “Well—to civilize them—that is to say, to take their stocks of ivory and resins. And then, what do you expect? If the governments and business houses who entrust colonizing expeditions to us learned that we hadn't killed anyone, what would they say?” “That's true!” agreed the Norman gentleman. “Besides, negroes are wild beasts.—. poachers... tigers. “Negroes? What a mistake, my dear sir. They are gentle and gay... they are like children. Have you ever seen rabbits playing in the meadow in the + + +evening, at the edge of the woods?” “Certainly!” “They make pretty, frolicsome movements; they shine their fur with their paws and bound about and roll in the mint−leaves. Well, negroes are like young rabbits... it's very charming!” “However, it is certain that they're cannibals?” persisted the gentleman. “Negroes!” protested the explorer. “Not at all! in all the black Countries the whites are the only cannibals. The negroes eat bananas and graze on new grass. I know a scientist who even contends that the negro has a stomach like the ruminants. How can you expect him to eat flesh, especially human flesh?” “Then why kill them?” I objected, for I suddenly felt kind and full of pity. “But I just told you... to civilize them. And it's lots of fun! When, after marching and marching, we arrived in a negro village, they were very frightened! They immediately uttered cries of distress and didn't try to escape—they were so scared—and lay on the ground weeping. We gave them whiskey, for we + + +always kept a large supply of alcohol in our baggage, and when they were drunk we slaughtered them!” “Bad sportsmanship!” resumed the Norman gentleman with some disgust, for he was doubtless thinking right then of the Tonkin forests, and seeing those marvelous flocks of peacocks flying back and forth. The night trailed brilliantly on; the sky was ablaze; about us the ocean was spread with great sheets of phosphorescent light. And I was sad, longing for Clara, bored with these gross men, bored with myself and our conversation which offended silence and beauty! Suddenly: “Do you know Stanley?” Clara asked the explorer. “Yes, certainly I know him,” he replied. “And what do you think of him?” “Oh, him!” he said, shaking his head. And as though his mind were a prey to frightful memories, he said, in a grave voice: “He goes a bit too far, just the same!” I felt that for some minutes past the captain had wanted to speak. He profited by the moment of + + +respite which followed this declaration: “I!” he said, “I've done much more than all that. And your little massacres are nothing beside those owing me. I have invented a bullet. It's extraordinary. I call it the Dum−Dum, after the name of the little Hindu village where I had the honor to invent it.” “It kills lots of people? More than the others?” Clara asked. “Oh, dear lady—how can you ask!” he said, laughing. “It's incalculable!” And modestly, however, he added: “However, that's nothing... it's very small! Imagine a little thing... how do you say?... a little nut, that's it! Imagine a very little nut! It's charming.” “And what a pretty name, captain!” said Clara. “Very pretty, in fact,” agreed the captain, obviously flattered, “very poetic!” “You'd say—wouldn't you—you'd say it was the name of a fairy in one of Shakespeare's comedies. The fairy Dum−Dum! It enchants me. A laughing, light and quite blond fairy, hopping, dancing and bounding about amid the heather and the sunbeams. And there you are... Dum−Dum!” + + +“And there you are!” the officer repeated. “absolutely! Besides, it works quite well, adorable lady... I think the most unique thing about it is that, with it, there aren't, so to speak, any more wounded.” “Ah!” “There are only dead men! That's why it's so really exquisite!” He turned to me, and with an accent of regret in which our mutual patriotism became one, he sighed: “Ah, if you had had it in France at the time of that frightful Commune! What a triumph!” Then, switching abruptly to another line of thought: “I sometimes wonder if it's not a tale out of Edgar Allen Poe or a dream of our Thomas de Quincy. But no, since I myself tested that admirable little Dum−Dum. Here is the story. I stood up twelve Hindus—” “Alive?” “Naturally! The Emperor of Germany is the one who tries his ballistic experiments on corpses. Confess it's absurd and quite inconclusive. I work with people—not only living, but of robust constitution and in perfect health. At least you can + + +see what you're doing, and where you're going. I am no dreamer. I'm a scientist.” “A thousand pardons, captain! Go right on!” “Well, I had twelve Hindus stood up, one behind the other, in a geometrically straight line... and fired.” “Well?” Clara interrupted. “Well, my charming friend, this little Dum−Dum did marvels. Of the twelve Hindus, not one remained standing! The bullet had gone through their twelve bodies which, after the shot, were only twelve heaps of mangled flesh and bones literally ground to dust. Magic—absolute magic! And I'd never dreamed of such an admirable result.” “Admirable indeed, and smacking of the prodigious.” “Doesn't it?” And, thoughtfully, after some seconds of a stirring silence: “I am looking,” he murmured confidentially, “I am looking for something better... something more final. I am looking for a bullet, a little bullet which will annihilate what it hits, leaving nothing... nothing—nothing! Do you understand?” “How is that? What do you mean, nothing?” + + +“Oh, very little then!” explained the officer; “scarcely a heap of ashes, or even a light reddish smoke which will immediately vanish. It's possible.” “Automatic incineration, then?” “Absolutely! Have you considered the innumerable advantages of such an invention? In this way I eliminate army surgeons, nurses, ambulances, military hospitals, pensions for the wounded, etc. It would constitute an incalculable economy, a lightening of governmental budgets, not to mention hygiene! What a conquest for hygiene!” “And you might call that the Nib—Nibbulled?” I exclaimed. “Very pretty, very pretty!” applauded the artilleryman who, although he had not at all understood this slangy interruption, started to laugh uproariously, with that honest and frank laugh characteristic of soldiers of all ranks and all nations. When he had calmed down: “I foresee,” he said, “that when France comes to know about this splendid device she will abuse us again in all her newspapers. And it will be the fiercest of your patriots, the very men who shout loudly that + + +not enough millions are ever spent for war, and who only talk of killing and bombardment—it will be those who will once more make England the target for the execration of civilized races. But damn it all! we aren't logical in our state of universal barbarity. What! they admit that shells are explosive, and they don't want bullets to be! Why not? We live under the laws of war. Well, what constitutes war? It consists of massacring as many men as you can in the least possible time. In order to make It more and more murderous and expeditious, you have to find more and more formidable engines of destruction. It makes for humaneness, and also modern progress. “But captain,” I objected, “what about peoples rights? What do you think of that?” The officer sneered; and lifting his arms to the sky: “People's rights!” he replied, “it's merely the right we possess to massacre people en masse or singly, with shells or bullets—it doesn't matter—provided that people are duly massacred!” One of the Chinese interposed: “We are not savages, however!” he said. + + +“Not savages? and what else are we, I ask you? We are worse savages than the Australian bushmen, since, possessing the knowledge of our savagery, we persist in it. And since it's by war—that is to say theft, pillage and massacre—that we learn to govern, carryon commerce, arbitrate our differences, avenge our honor... Well! We have only to bear with the inconveniences of this state of brutality in which we nevertheless desire to remain. We are brutes—agreed! Let's act like brutes!” Then, in a gentle and profound voice, Clara said: “Besides, it would be a sacrilege to fight against death. Death is so beautiful!” She arose, white and mysterious beneath the electric deck light. The fine long silk shawl which enveloped her, wrapped her in pale and shifting reflections. “Till tomorrow!” she said. All of us stood around her, assiduously attentive. The officer had taken her hand, and kissed it, and I detested his masculine face, his supple loins, his taut limbs and his forceful demeanor. He apologized to his audience: “Forgive me,” he said, “for having allowed myself + + +to be carried away by such a subject, and for having forgotten that in the presence of a woman such as you, one should never talk of anything but love.” Clara replied: “But captain, when you speak of death, you also speak of love!” She took my arm, and I escorted her to her cabin where her women were waiting to prepare her for bed. The entire evening I was haunted by massacre and destruction. My sleep was quite feverish that night. Capering about over the red heather and amid the rays of a bloody sun, I saw the blond, laughing and leaping little fairy, Dum−Dum... the little fairy, Dum−Dum, which had the eyes, the mouth and all the unknown and unveiled flesh of Clara. + + +PART 7 + +One time my friend and I were leaning side by side against the rail, and looking at the sea and the sky. The day would soon be done. In the sky, great birds—blue kingfishers—were following the ship, balancing themselves with the exquisite movements of a ballerina; on the sea, schools of flying−fish rose at our approach and, gleaming in the sun, dove in farther off to reappear immediately, scudding over the water which was blue as brilliant turquoise that day. Then schools of jellyfish, red jellyfish, green jellyfish, purple, rose and mauve, floated like heaps of flowers on the soft surface, and their colors were so magnificent that every moment Clara uttered cries of admiration as she pointed them out to me. Then, suddenly, she asked: “Tell me. What is the name of these marvelous creatures?” I might have improvised bizarre names or sought scientific nomenclature. I did not even attempt it. Moved by an immediate, spontaneous and violent need of frankness: + + +“I don't know!” I firmly replied. I felt I was lost, that I was also losing this vague and charming dream which had cradled my hopes and soothed my anxieties—irrevocably losing it; that I was going to fall back even deeper than ever into the inevitable mire of my life as a pariah. I felt all this. But there was something stronger than all that in me, which commanded me to wash myself of all my impostures, all my lies; all this veritable abuse of confidence, by which I had fraudulently achieved, in a cowardly and criminal fashion, the friendship of a person who had had faith in my words. “No, really, I don't know!” I repeated, giving to this simple negation a quality of dramatic exaltation of which it did not admit. “How strangely you say that! Are you crazy? What's the matter with you?” said Clara, astonished at the sound of my voice and the strange incoherence of my gestures. “I don't know... I don't know... I don't know!” And to add more force of conviction to that triple 'I don't know!' I violently struck the rail three times. “What, you don't know? A scientist... a + + +naturalist?” “I am not a scientist, Miss Clara, I am not a naturalist—I am nothing,” I cried. “A wretch, yes... I am a wretch! I've lied to you, shamefully lied. You must know the sort of man I am. Listen to me...” Panting, agitated, I related my life: Eugene Mortain, Mme. G—, the imposture of my mission, all my filth, all my mire. I took an atrocious delight in accusing myself, making myself viler, more of an outcast and still blacker than I was. When I had finished this distressing tale, I said to my friend, in a flood of tears: “Now it's all over! You will detest me, despise me, like the others, you will turn away from me with disgust. And you will be right, and I won't complain. It's frightful! But I can't live like this any longer. I want no more lies between us.” I wept copiously, and I stuttered incoherent words, like a child. “It's horrible! It's horrible! and I who... for after all... it's true, I swear to you! I who... you understand. A whirlpool, that's it... a whirlpool. I was caught in a whirlpool. I didn't know it. And then your soul... ah, your soul!... your gentle soul... your pure glances... + + +and your... your dear... yes, after all... you know it well... your dear welcome, it was my salvation... my redemption... my... my. It's horrible... it's horrible! I'm losing all that! It's horrible!” While I was talking and weeping Miss Clara looked at me attentively. Oh, that look! Never—no never, shall I forget the glance that adorable woman fixed upon me—an extraordinary glance, which held at the same time astonishment, joy, pity, and love—yes, love—and malice too, and irony... and everything. A glance which entered into me, penetrated me, probed me and overwhelmed my soul and my flesh. “Well,” she said simply, “that doesn't astonish me very much. And I honestly believe all scientists are like you.” Without taking her eyes off me, she gave her clear and pretty laugh—a laugh like the song of a bird: “I knew one of them,” she went on. “He was a naturalist... of your type. He had been sent by the British government to study the coffee−parasite on the plantations in Ceylon. Well, for three months, he + + +did not leave Colombo. He spent his time playing poker and getting drunk on champagne.” Still looking at me with a strange, profound and voluptuous look—always focused on me—after some seconds of silence she added, in a tone of commiseration in which it seemed to me I heard all the exultation of forgiveness: “Oh the little swine!” I no longer knew what to say, or whether to laugh or weep again, or whether to kneel at her feet. Timidly, I mumbled: “Then... you're not angry with me? You don't despise me? You forgive me?” “Silly!” she said. “Oh, the little fool!” “Clara! Clara! Is it possible?” I cried, almost fainting for joy. As the dinner−bell had long since rung and there was no longer anyone on that part of the deck, I came closer to Clara, so close that I could feel her loins trembling against me, and her heart beating. And seizing her hands, which she left in mine, while my heart rose tempestuously in me, I cried: “Clara! Clara! do you love me? Ah, I beg you! Do + + +you love me?” She replied feebly: “I'll tell you that, this evening... in my cabin!” In her eyes I saw the flicker of a green flame, a terrible flame which terrified me. She withdrew her hands from my grasp, a heavy line suddenly crossed her forehead, and with her head bowed, she was silent and looked at the sea. What was she thinking about? I could tell nothing. And, looking out to sea myself, I thought: While I was an honorable man in her eyes, she did not love me. But the minute she understood what I was, when she breathed the true and foul odor of my soul, love was born in her—for she does love me! Well, well! There is nothing real, then, except evil! Evening had come; then, without any twilight, it was night. An ineffable sweetness floated in the air. The ship sailed through boiling phosphorescent foam. Great lights skimmed over the sea. You'd have thought the fairies were rising from the sea, trailing long fiery mantles on the surface, and shaking and hurling great handfuls of golden pearls into the water. + + +PART 8 + +One morning, coming out on deck, I could make out, thanks to the transparence of the atmosphere, and as clearly as though I were treading its soil, the enchanted island of Ceylon; that green and red island crowned by the fairylike rosy whiteness of Adam's Peak. We had already been warned of its approach the evening before by the new perfumes of the sea and a mysterious invasion of butterflies which, after accompanying the ship for a few hours, suddenly disappeared. And without desiring anything more, both Clara and I found it exquisite that the island had extended us a welcome through the medium of these dazzling and poetic messengers. I had then reached such a point of sentimental poeticism that the mere sight of a butterfly made all the strings of tenderness and ecstasy vibrate in my breast. But that morning the actual sight of Ceylon caused me great anguish—and more than anguish—terror. What I caught a glimpse of over there beyond the waves, which were then the color + + +of forget−me−not, was not a territory, not a port, nor the burning curiosity of everything that stirs the ultimately lifted veil of the unknown in man. It was the brutal summons to evil life, the return to my forsaken instincts, the bitter and desolating reawakening of all which, during the crossing, had slumbered in me, and which I had thought dead! It was something more distressing, of which I had never dreamed, and which it was impossible for me not only to understand, but even conceive of its possible reality: the end of the prodigious dream which Clara's love had been for me. For the first time, a woman held me. I was her slave; I desired none but her; I wanted none but her. Nothing any longer existed outside or beyond her. Instead of extinguishing the fire of my love, every day possession fanned its flame. I descended further into the burning gulf of her desire each time, and every day I realized more strongly that my entire life would be exhausted seeking to reach its bottom! How could I accept the fact that, after having been conquered—soul, body and brain—by this irrevocable, indissoluble and martyrizing love, I + + +would have to immediately give it up? Madness! This love was a part of me, like my own flesh; it had taken the place of my blood and marrow; it possessed me entirely; it was I! To separate me from it meant to separate me from myself; it meant to kill me. Worse still! It meant the extravagant nightmare that my head was in Ceylon, my feet in China, separated by abysses of ocean, and that I would continue to live in these two stumps which could never be reunited! That the very next day I would no longer possess those swooning eyes, those devouring lips, the nightly renewed miracle of that body with its divine contours and savage embraces; and, after long spasms as powerful as sin and as deep as death, that naive stammering, those little laughs, those little tears, those languid little songs of a child or a bird—was it possible! And I would lose all that was more necessary for breathing than my lungs; more necessary for thinking than my brain; more necessary for nourishing my veins with warm blood than my heart! Impossible! I belonged to Clara like the coal belongs to the fire which devours and consumes it. Both to her and me, a separation had + + +seemed so inconceivable and so insanely fantastic, so totally contrary to the laws of nature and life, that we had never spoken of it. The evening before, our communing hearts had thought of nothing—and without even mentioning it—but the eternity of the voyage, as though the ship which bore us on might carry us thus forever, and never, never arrive anywhere. For to arrive somewhere means to die! Yet, here I was about to get off, plunge into that green and that red, disappear over there in that unknown... more frightfully alone than ever! And here was Clara, soon to be no more than a phantom, then a little grey speck scarcely visible in space... then nothing... nothing... nothing! Ah, anything rather than that! Ah, let the sea engulf us both. The sea was gentle, calm and radiant. It exhaled the perfumes of a Utopian shore, a blossoming orchard and a bed of love, which made me weep. The deck was thronged; nothing but happy faces, eyes strained by waiting and curiosity: “We're entering the bay... we're in the bay!” “I see the shore.” “I see the trees.” + + +“I see the lighthouse.” “We're here... we're here!” Each of these exclamations fell heavily on my heart. I no longer wanted before me the sight of this island, still distant but so implacably clear—which every turn of the screw brought nearer to me, and turning from it, I gazed at the infinity of the sky into which I prayed I might disappear, like those birds over there, so high, which flew for a moment through the air and disappeared so easily. Clara hastened to join me. Was it from having loved too much? Was it from having wept too long? For her eyelids were darkened, and her eyes with their dark blue rings expressed more than sadness: there was actually an ardent pity in them, both belligerent and commiserative. Beneath her heavy golden−brown hair, her forehead was crossed by a line of shadow; that line which was there in desire, as well as in pain. A strangely intoxicating perfume emanated from her hair. She said to me, simply, this single word: “Already?” “Alas!” I sighed. + + +She finished adjusting her hat, a little sailor−hat which she fastened with a long gold pin. Her raised arms made her breasts stand out, and I could see their sculptural curves outlined beneath the white blouse which enveloped them. She continued in a voice which trembled slightly: “Had you thought about it?” “No!” Clara bit her lips. “And then?” she said. I did not answer. I had not the strength to answer. My head empty, my heart torn, I should have liked to slip into oblivion. She was moved, very pale, except her mouth which seemed redder, and heavy with kisses. For a long time her eyes questioned me with great intensity. “The ship touches at Colombo two days. Then it leaves again. Did you know it? “Yes! yes!” “And then?” “And then... it's over!” “Can I do something for you?” “Nothing... thanks! for it's all over!” + + +And stifling my sobs in my throat, I stuttered: “You've been everything to me. You've been more than everything to me! Don't speak to me any more, I beg you! It's too distressing... too uselessly distressing. Don't speak to me any more... for now, everything is over!” “Nothing is ever over,” proclaimed Clara; “nothing, not even death!” A bell rang. Ah, that bell! How it tolled in my heart! How it tolled the death−knell of my heart! The passengers crowded on the deck, shouting, exclaiming, questioning each other, leveling lorgnettes opera−glasses and cameras at the approaching island. The Norman gentleman, pointing out the masses of foliage, was describing the jungles impenetrable to the hunter. And amid the tumult and jostling, indifferent and reflective, their hands crossed in their wide sleeves, the two Chinese continued their slow, grave, daily promenade, like two priests reciting their breviaries. “We're here!” “Hurrah! hurrah! We're here!” “I see the city.'” + + +“Is that the city?'” “No! that's a coral ledge...” “I can make out the wharf...” “No! No!” “What's that coming, out there on the sea?” Already, in the distance, a little flotilla of barks with their pink sails was coming out to the steamer. The two smokestacks, belching clouds of black smoke, covered the sea with a mourning−pall, and the siren moaned forever... forever. No one paid any attention to us. Clara asked me, in a tone of imperious tenderness: “Well! what's to become of you?” “I don't know! And what difference does it make? I was lost... I met you. You have held me from the brink of the abyss for a few days. Now I'll fall back into it. It was inevitable!” “Why inevitable? You're a child! And you have no confidence in me. Do you really think it was by chance you met me?” After a long silence, she added: “It's so simple! I have powerful friends in China. They could undoubtedly do a lot for you! Would you + + +like—” I did not give her time to finish: “No, not that!” I begged, resisting feebly. “Anyway—above all, not that! I understand you... Don't say any more.” “You're a child,” Clara repeated, “and talk like they do in Europe, darling. And you have stupid scruples, like in Europe. In China life is free, joyous, complete, unconventional, unprejudiced, lawless... at least for us. No other limits to liberty than yourself... or to love, than the triumphant variety of your desire. Europe and its hypocritical, barbaric civilization is a lie. What else do you do there except lie—lie to yourself and others, lie about everything you recognize in your heart to be true? You're obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemn, and know lack all foundation. It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced. In that intolerable conflict you lose all + + +joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers. That's the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world. With us, there's nothing like it... you'll see! In Canton I own a palace amid marvelous gardens, where everything is conducive to a free life, and to love. What are you afraid of? What are you leaving behind? Who cares about you! When you don't love me any more, or when you are too unhappy... you go away. “Clara! Clara!” I implored. She stamped sharply on the deck of the ship: “You don't know me yet,” she said, “you don't know what I am, and you want to leave me already! Do I frighten you? Are you a coward?” “I could not live without you! Without you, I could only die!” “Well, stop trembling... and stop weeping... and come with me!” A light flashed in her green pupils, and in a low, almost raucous voice, she said: “I'll teach you terrible things... divine things... you'll know at last what love really is! I promise you'll descend with me to the very depths of the mystery of + + +love... and death!” And smiling an evil smile which made a shiver run through my bones, she said again: “Poor baby! You thought yourself a great debauchee... a great rebel! Ah! your little remorse... do you remember! And now your soul is as timid as a little child's!” It was true! I had vainly boasted of being an uncompromising swine, thought myself superior to moral prejudices. I still occasionally heard the voice of duty and honor which, at certain moments of nervous depression, rose from the troubled depths of my conscience. Whose honor? what duty? What a sink of madness is man's mind! In what way would my honor—my honor!—be compromised, in what way would I shirk my duty if I continued my voyage all the way to China, instead of rotting away in Ceylon? Had I actually crawled far enough into the skin of a scientist to imagine that I was going to 'study the pelagic ooze,' or discover 'the cell,' by plunging into the gulfs of the Singhalese coast? This quite grotesque idea, that I had taken my embryological mission seriously, quickly led me back + + +to the reality of my situation. What! fate or a miracle had willed it that I meet a woman, divinely beautiful, rich, exceptional, and whom I loved and who loved me, and who offered me an extraordinary life, joy in abundance, unique sensations, libertine adventures, luxurious protection... salvation after all... and more than salvation—bliss! And I was going to let it all slip through my fingers! Once more the demon of perversity, that stupid demon to whom lowed all my unhappiness—because I had so stupidly obeyed him—intervened again and advised me hypocritically to resist an un−hoped−for adventure, a fairy−tale come to life, which would never be encountered again and which I ardently desired from the bottom of my heart, and which had actually materialized. No... no! It was too stupid, after all! “You're right,” I said to Clara, ascribing solely to my defeat in love a submission which also included all my instincts of laziness and debauchery; you're right; I wouldn't be worthy of your eyes, your mouth and your heart... of all that paradise and that hell which is YOU, if I hesitated any longer. And then, I could not... I could not lose you. I can conceive of + + +everything but that. You are right, I belong to you; lead me where you wish. To suffer... to die... it makes no difference! since you—whom I still do not know—are my fate!” “Oh, baby! baby! baby!” said Clara in a singular tone whose true expression I could not unravel—whether it was joy, irony or pity! Then, almost maternally, she admonished me: “Now, don't worry about anything. Try to be happy. Stay here... look at the marvelous island. I'm going to arrange with the commissioner for your new status on board.” “Clara.” “Don't be afraid. I know what to say.” And as I was about to object: “Shush! Aren't you my baby, darling? You must obey. And then, you don't know... “ And she disappeared into the crowd of passengers huddled on deck, many of whom were already carrying their yalises and their lighter baggage. It had been decided that Clara and I would spend the two days in port at Colombo visiting the city and the suburbs, where my friend had stayed and which + + +she knew thoroughly. The heat there was torrid, so torrid that the coolest places—by comparison—in this atrocious land (where the scientists have located the earthly paradise), such as the gardens on the banks of the strand, seemed to me to be stifling steam rooms. The majority of our traveling−companions did not dare to risk this fiery temperature, which stripped them of the slightest desire to go out and the vaguest desire to move. I can still see them, ridiculous and moaning in the lobby of the hotel, wrapped in moistened and steaming napkins—elegant apparel renewed every quarter of an hour—which transformed the noblest part of their person into a chimney−pipe, crowned with its plume of steam. Slumped into rocking−chairs under the punka, their brains atrophied, their lungs congested, they drank iced drinks prepared for them by the boys who, by the color of their skin and the structure of their bodies, recalled the naive gingerbread men of our Parisian fairs; while other boys of the same hue and the same build kept the mosquitoes away from them by great sweeps of a fan. As for me, I recovered—perhaps a bit too + + +soon—all my gaiety and all my sprightly wit. My scruples had vanished; I no longer felt in a poetical mood. Relieved of my anxiety about the future, I once more became the man I was when I left Marseille; the stupid and critical Parisian, 'who can't be fooled'; the boulevardier who won't listen to nonsense, and who knows all about nature... even the tropics! To me Colombo seemed a boring and ridiculous city, unpicturesque and lacking in mystery. It was half Protestant, half Buddhist, besotted as a bronze and sullen as a pastor, and with what joy I congratulated myself on having miraculously escaped the profound boredom of its streets, its dead sky and its coarse vegetation. And I made jokes about the cocoanut trees, which I did not fail to compare to frightful plucked feather−dusters, as well as about the great plants which I accused of having been cut out of painted sheet−iron and polished zinc, by malicious workmen. Walking on Slave Island, which is the Bois of the place, or in Pettah, which is its Mouffetard quarter, we only encountered horrible Englishwomen out of an operetta, togged out as + + +though for a carnival, in light costumes, half−European and half Hindu; and Singhalese still more horrible than the Englishwomen, old at twelve years, wrinkled as prunes, twisted as aged vine−stalks, caved in like ruined straw huts, with gums like bleeding wounds, lips burned by the areca−nut and teeth the color of an old pipe. I sought in vain for the voluptuous women, the negresses with their wise love−techniques, the pert little lace makers of whom that liar Eugene Mortain had spoken, with their eyes so significantly provocative. And with all my heart I pitied the poor scientists they sent here, with their problematic mission of discovering the secret of life. But I realized Clara had no taste for these facile and Coarse jokes, and I found it prudent to attenuate them, not wishing to wound her either in her fervent cult or nature, or shrink in her estimation. On several occasions I had noticed that she listened to me with painful astonishment. “Why are you so gay?” She said to me, “I don't like people to be gay like that, darling. It hurts me. When you're gay it's because you're not in love. Love + + +is serious, sad and profound.” Which, however, did not prevent her from bursting into laughter apropos of anything or nothing. In this way she encouraged me greatly in a deception which I concocted, and which was this: Among the letters of recommendation I had brought from Paris, there was one to a certain Sir Oscar Terwick who, aside from his other scientific titles, was the president of the Association of Tropical Embryology and British Entomology at Colombo. At the hotel where I sought information, I learned, in fact, that Sir Oscar Terwick was quite a personage, the author of renowned works, and, in a word, a very great scientist. I decided to go to see him. Such a visit could no longer be dangerous to me, and besides, I was not sorry to know and make contact with an actual embryologist. He lived far off in a suburb called Kolpetty, which was, so to speak, the Passy of Colombo. There, in the midst of luxurious gardens, graced by the inevitable cocoanut tree, in spacious and bizarre villas, the rich merchants and notable officials of the city lived. Clara desired to accompany me. She waited for me + + +in the carriage not far from the savant's house, in a sort of little square shaded by immense teakwood trees. Sir Oscar Terwick received me politely—nothing more. He was a very tall man, very slender, very dry, very red in the face, and his white beard fell to his navel and was cut squarely like a pony's tail. He wore great trousers of yellow silk, and his hairy torso was wrapped in a sort of shawl of light wool. He gravely read the letter I handed him and, after having examined me out of the corner of his eye with a suspicious air—was he suspicious of me or of himself?—he asked me: “You... are... embryologist?” I nodded my head in assent. “All right!” he clucked. And making the gesture of trailing a net in the sea, he went on: “You... are... embryologist? Yes... You... You... comme ca... dans Ie mer... fish... fish... little fish?” “Little fish... absolutely... little fish,” I insisted, repeating the imitative gesture of the scientist. “Dans Ie mer?” “Yes!... yes.” + + +Tres interessant!... tres joli... tres curious! Yes.” Jabbering like this—and both of us continuing to drag our fanciful nets 'in the sea'—the noted scientist led me to a bamboo console on which three plaster busts were standing, crowned with artificial lotus. Indicating them respectively with his thumb, he presented them to me in so comically serious a tone I almost burst out laughing. “Master Darwin—very great—naturalist... very, very... great!... Yes!” I made a deep bow. “Master Haeckel... ires grand naturaliste... Not as great as he, no!... Mais tres grand! Master Haeckel ici... comme ca... lui... dans Ie mer... little fish.” I bowed again. And he exclaimed in a louder voice, laying his whole hand, red as a crab, upon the third bust: “Master Coqueline! Tres grand naturaliste... du miouseum... comment appelez?... du miouseum. Grevin—Yes!—Grevin! Tres joli—tres curious!” “Very interesting!” I agreed. “Yes!” After which he dismissed me. + + +I gave Clara a detailed and acted version of this interview. She laughed like a mad woman. “Oh baby!... baby... baby... how funny you are, you little devil!” This was the sole scientific episode of my mission. And I appreciated then what embryology was! The next morning, after a savage night of love, we put to sea again en route to China. +THE GARDEN +PART 1 + +“Why haven't you spoken to me yet about our dear Annie? Haven't you told her about my arrival? Won't she come today? Is she still as beautiful as ever?” What! Don't you know, darling? Annie is dead.” “Dead!” I exclaimed. “It's not possible. You're teasing me.” I looked at Clara. Divinely calm and pretty, naked in a transparent tunic of yellow silk, she was languidly stretched out on a tiger skin. Her head lay among the cushions, and with her hands, loaded with rings, she played with a long wisp of her flowing hair. A Laos dog with red hair slept beside her, its muzzle resting on her thigh and a paw upon her breast. “What?” Clara went on, “didn't you know? Why, that's funny!” All smiles, and stretching like a supple animal, she explained to me: “It was horrible, my dear! Annie died... died of that frightful scourge called elephantiasis... for everything here is frightful... love... disease... and the + + +flowers! Never have I wept so much, I assure you. I loved her so much—so much! And she was so beautiful!” She added, with a long and charming sigh: “Never again will we know the bitter taste of her kisses! It's a great misfortune!” “Then it's really true!” I stammered. “But how did it happen?” “I don't know. There are so many mysteries here, so many things that can't be understood. Both of us often used to go out on the river in the evening. I must tell you that there was a bayadere from Benares, in a flower—boat... a bewitching creature, my dear, whom the priests had taught certain cursed rites of the ancient Brahman cults. Perhaps it was that... or something else. One night when we were returning from the river, Annie complained of violent pains in the head and loins, and the next day her body was all covered with little purple spots. Her skin, rosier and finer than the althea flower, was hardening—thickening, swelling, and became an ashy grey. Great tumors and monstrous tubercles arose. It was something frightful. And the disease + + +which at first had attacked her legs, reached her thighs, her abdomen, her breasts, her face. Oh, her face, her face! Imagine an enormous pouch, a disgusting sack, all grey and striated with brown blood, and which hung and swayed with the least movement she made. Her eyes—her eyes, my darling! You could see no more of them than tiny, reddish, oozing holes. I still wonder if it's possible!” She twined the golden lock of her hair about her fingers. In his sleep the dog's paw had slipped along her silk tunic, entirely uncovering the globe of her breast, whose nipple arose, pink as a young flower. “Yes, I still wonder sometimes whether I'm not dreaming,” she said. “Clara... Clara!” I implored, aghast with horror, “don't tell me any more. I'd like the image of our divine Annie to remain intact in my memory. What can I do now to dispel this nightmare? Ah, Clara! don't say any more; or talk to me about Annie when she was so beautiful... when she was too beautiful!” Clara did not listen to me, but continued: “Annie isolated herself... shut herself up in her house, alone with a Chinese housekeeper who took + + +care of her. She had sent all her women away, and no longer wanted to see anyone... not even me. She summoned the cleverest practitioners of England. In vain, you may be Sure. The most celebrated sorcerers of Tibet—those who know the magic words and resuscitate the dead declared themselves powerless. You never recover from that disease; but you never die of it. It's frightful! “Then she killed herself. A few drops of poison, and that was the end of the most beautiful of women.” Terror sealed my lips. I looked at Clara, unable to utter a single word. “I learned from that Chinese woman,” Clara continued, “a really curious detail, which fascinated me. You know how much Annie loved pearls. She owned some incomparable specimens... the most marvelous, I believe, that ever existed. You also remember the almost physical joy, the carnal ecstasy, with which she adorned herself with them. Well, when she was sick that passion became a mania with her... a fury, like love! All day long she loved to touch them, caress them and kiss them j she made cushions of them, necklaces, capes, + + +cloaks. Then this extraordinary thing happened; the pearls died on her skin: first they tarnished, little by little... little by little they grew dim, and no light was reflected in their luster any more and, in a few days, tainted by the disease, they changed into tiny balls of ash. They were dead, dead like people, my darling. Did you know that pearls had souls? I think it's fascinating and delicious. And since then, I think of it every day.” After a short silence, she went on: “And that's not all! Annie often expressed the desire to be carried to the little Parsee cemetery when she died—over there, on the hill of the Blue Dog. She wanted her body to be torn to pieces by the beaks of vultures. You know what strange and violent ideas she had on all subjects? Well, the vultures refused this royal feast she offered them. They flew away from her corpse, uttering frightful cries. We had to cremate her. It was awful!” “But why didn't you write me all that?” I reproached Clara. With slow and charming gestures, Clara smoothed the red—gold of her hair and caressed the red fur of the dog, which had awakened, and she + + +said carelessly: “Really? Didn't I write you anything about that? Are you sure? Doubtless I'd forgotten. Poor Annie!” Again she spoke: Since that great misfortune, everything here bores me. I am too lonely. I would like to die... to die... I too. Ah, I assure you! And if you hadn't come back, I honestly believe I would be dead already.” She laid her head back on the cushions, bared her breast still more, and with a smile... the strange smile of both a child and a harlot: “Do my breasts still please you? Do you still think me beautiful? Then why were you gone so... so long? Yes... yes... I know... don't say anything more, don't answer... I know. You are a little fool, my darling!” I would have greatly liked to weep; but I couldn't. I would have greatly liked to speak again, but again I was unable. And we were in the garden, under the gilded kiosk, where the glycines hung in clusters, white clusters; and We finished having tea. Sparkling scarabees swarmed among the leaves, cetonia + + +beetles buzzed and died in the swooning hearts of the roses, and through the open door on the northern side, rising from the pool around which in the soft, mauve shadows, storks were sleeping, we could see the long stems of yellow irises, streaked with purple. Suddenly Clara asked me: “Would you like us to go and feed the Chinese Convicts? It's very curious... very amusing. It's really the only original and fashionable diversion we have here, in this God−forsaken corner of China. Would you like to, darling?” I felt fatigue, my head was heavy, all my being racked by the fever of that frightful climate. Besides, the story of Annie's death had overwhelmed my spirit. And the heat, moreover, was deadly as poison. “I don't know what you asked me, Clara dear, but I haven't recovered from that long trip across plains and plains... forests and forests. And that sun! I fear it more than death! Besides, I wanted so much to be alone with you, and you with me... today.” “That's right! If we were in Europe, and I'd asked you to accompany me to the races or the theatre, you wouldn't have hesitated. But it's so much nicer + + +than the races.” “Be kind! Tomorrow, if you like?” “Oh, tomorrow!” replied Clara, with an expression of surprise and her air of gentle reproach. “Always tomorrow! Don't you know that it's impossible tomorrow? Tomorrow—why it's strictly forbidden. The doors of the bagnio are closed, even to me. You can only feed the convicts on Wednesday; how is it you didn't know? If we miss this visit today, we'll have to wait a whole long week. How boring it would be! A whole week, think of it! Come, darling booby. Oh, come! I beg you. You could at least do that much for me. She lifted herself up on the cushions. The gaping tunic revealed patches of her ardent rosy flesh below the waist, amid the clouds of the silk. From a gold bonbon dish on a lacquer platter she took a quinine pellet with the tips of her fingers, and commanding me to approach, she put it gently between my lips. “You'll see how exciting it is... so exciting! You have no idea, darling. And how much more I'll love you tonight. How madly I'll love you tonight! Swallow, darling... swallow!” + + +Somber lights gleamed in her eyes, and as I was still sad and hesitant, to overcome my last objections, she said: “Listen! I've seen robbers hung in England; I've seen bullfights, and anarchists garroted in Spain. In Russia I've seen beautiful young girls whipped to death by soldiers. In Italy I've seen living phantoms—spectres of famine—disinter the bodies of cholera victims and eat them eagerly. I've seen thousands of souls beside a stream in India, stark naked, writhing and dying of the plague. In Berlin one evening I saw a woman I had loved the night before—a splendid creature in pink tights—I saw her devoured by a lion in a cage. All the horrors, all the human tortures—I have seen them. It was very lovely! But I've seen nothing lovelier... you understand?... than the Chinese convicts. It's lovelier than everything! You can't possibly know. I tell you, you can't possibly know. Annie and I never missed a Wednesday. Come, I beg you!” “Since it's so lovely, my dear Clara, and it gives you so much pleasure,” I answered sadly, “let's go and feed the convicts.” + + +“Really, you want to?” Clara expressed her delight, clapping her hands like a baby whose governess has just given it permission to torture a little dog. Then she jumped up on my knees, affectionate and feline, and threw her bare arms around my neck... and her hair smothered me, blinded my face with golden flames and intoxicating perfumes. “How nice you are... dear... dear darling. Kiss my lips... kiss my neck... kiss my hair... dear little devil!” Her hair possessed so powerful an animal odor and was so electrically stimulating, that its mere contact with my skin instantaneously made me forget fever, fatigue and pain... and I immediately felt heroic ardor and new strength flowing and surging through my veins. “Oh, what fun we'll have, sweetheart. When I go to see the convicts, it makes me dizzy, and thrills run through my entire body, like thrills of passion. It seems to me, you see... it seems to me that I'm sinking to the depths of my being... to the very deepest recesses of my being. Your mouth... give me your mouth... your mouth... your mouth!” Then + + +nimbly, quickly joyful and shameless, followed by the bounding red dog, she went to the women who dressed her. I was no longer very sad; I was no longer very tired. Clara's kiss, the taste of which I still had on my lips like a magic drop of opium—dulled my pain, relieved the throbbing of my fever, almost completely dispelled the monstrous image of Annie's death. And I looked calmly at the garden. Calmly? The garden descended in gentle slopes, graced everywhere by rare herbs and precious plants. An alley of enormous camphor trees began at the kiosk where I sat, and ended at a red door in the form of a temple, which opened out on the countryside. Between the leafy branches of the gigantic trees which concealed the view on the left, I could see the stream which gleamed like polished silver in the sun. I tried to become interested in the multiple decorations of the garden, in its strange flowers and grotesque vegetation. A man with two indolent panthers in leash, crossed the path. Here, in the center of a lawn, there stood an immense bronze + + +representing some divinity or other—obscene and cruel. There, cranes with blue plumage and red−throated toucans from tropical America, sacred pheasants, golden—crowned and golden−breasted ducks clad in brilliant purple like ancient warriors, and multicolored wading−birds, sought the shade beside the clumps of foliage. But neither the birds nor the felines, nor the gods, nor the flowers could hold my attention, nor the bizarre palace on my right which, between the dwarf cedars and the bamboos, lifted its bright terraces covered with flowers, and its shady balconies and covered roofs. My thoughts were elsewhere... very, very far away across the seas and the forests. They were centered in me, plunged into myself... in the very depths of my being! Calmly? Scarcely had Clara disappeared behind the foliage of the garden than I was seized with remorse at being there. Why had I returned? What madness and what cowardice had I obeyed? She had said to me one day you remember—on the ship: 'When you are too unhappy, you will go away.' I had believed myself fortified by my infamous past and, in fact, I + + +was only a worried and feeble child. Unhappy? Ah yes, I had been that—unhappy to the point of the worst possible torture; to the point of a prodigious disgust with myself. And I had gone away! With really vindictive irony I had profited by an English mission passing through Canton to escape from Clara—I was decidedly destined to follow missions. I was going to explore the lesser known regions of Annam. It meant forgetfulness, perhaps... and perhaps death. For two years—two long, cruel years, I had tramped and tramped—and there was neither forgetfulness nor death. Despite fatigue, danger and the accursed fever—I was not able for a day, nor for a minute, to cure myself of the frightful poison that woman had injected into my flesh—that woman to whom I felt myself attached and riveted. And I realized that the very thing that held me to her was the frightful rottenness of her soul and her crimes of love. She was a monster, and I loved her for being a monster! I had believed—had I really?—that her love could uplift me... and here I had descended even lower, to the floor of the tainted gulf out of which, having once inhaled its odor, you never climb again. + + +Often, in the depths of the forests, haunted by fever after the halts—in my tent—I tried to kill her monstrous and persistent image with opium. And the opium evoked her for me in a more material fashion, and more living, more imperious than ever. Then I wrote her mad, insulting and scurrilous letters—letters in which the most violent loathing was mingled with the most abject adoration. She answered me with charming, naive and plaintive letters which I sometimes found in the cities and post−offices we passed. She confessed to be unhappy over my abandonment... wept, supplicated and called me back. She found no other excuse than this: 'You must understand, my dear—' she wrote, 'that I have no soul for your horrid Europe. I bear in me the soul of old China, which is much more beautiful. Isn't it desolating that you can't grasp that idea?' In this way I learned that she had left Canton, where she could no longer live without me, to go and live with Annie in a city farther south in China, 'which is marvelous'. Ah, how could I have so long resisted the desire to abandon my companions and hasten to that sublime and cursed city, that exquisite and + + +agonizing hell where Clara breathed and lived, in the midst of fierce and unknown lusts for lack of which I was then dying. And I came back to her, like an assassin returns to the very scene of his crime... Laughter in the foliage, little cries, the bounding of a dog. It was Clara. She was dressed, half as a Chinese, half as a European. A blouse of pale mauve silk, embroidered with faintly gilded flowers, wrapped her in a thousand folds, outlining her lithe body and her rich contours. She had on a great hat of pale straw, in whose depths her face appeared like a pink flower in a slight shadow. And her little feet were clad in yellow leather. When she entered the kiosk, it was like an explosion of perfumes. “This is a queer get−up, isn't it? Oh, the sad, sad man from Europe, who hasn't laughed once since he returned! Don't you think me beautiful?” As I didn't get up from the divan on which I was stretched: “Quick! quick! darling—for we have to make the grand tour. I'll put on my gloves on the way. Come... come along! No, no... not you!” she added, gently, repulsing the dog which was yelping, leaping and + + +wagging its tail. She called a boy and instructed him to follow us with the provision−basket and the little pitchfork. “Ah,” she explained to me, “it's very amusing! A darling little basket woven by the best basket−maker in China; and the pitchfork... you'll see—a darling little fork whose teeth are platinum inlaid with gold, and the handle is made of green jade... green as the sky at the first flush of dawn... green as poor Annie's eyes! Come now—don't make that awful funereal face, darling... and come quickly... quickly!” And we started to walk in the sun, that horrible sun which blackened the grass, withered the peonies in the garden and bore down on my skull like a heavy laden helmet. + + +Part 2 + +The Bagnio is on the other side of the river, whose black and pestilential waters slowly and sinisterly flow between their low banks outside the city limits. To get to it, you have to make a long detour, and cross a bridge on which the Convict Meat Market is held every Wednesday, in the midst of a fashionable throng. Clara had refused to take a palanquin. We went down through the garden situated outside the city walls, on foot, and by a path bordered here and there by brown stones, thick hedges of white roses or clipped privet hedges, we reached the suburbs at the point where the dwindling city almost becomes countryside; where the houses, now shacks, are at great intervals from each other, and are situated in little yards fenced about with bamboo. From there on, there are only blossoming orchards, truck−gardens or empty lots. Men stripped to the waist and wearing bell−shaped hats worked laboriously in the sun planting lilies—those beautiful tiger lilies whose petals resemble the legs of marine + + +spiders and whose tasty bulbs serve as nourishment for the rich. We passed some wretched sheds where potters were turning their pots, where rag pickers squatting before huge baskets were taking stock of the morning harvest, while a flock of hungry and cackling condors wheeled back and forth above them. Not far off under an enormous fig tree, we saw a gentle and meticulous old man who was bathing birds at the edge of a fountain. Every few minutes we crossed in front of palanquins carrying foreign sailors, already drunk, towards the city. And behind us, sweltering and huddled, sprawling over the high hill, the city with its temples and strange red, green, and yellow houses, lay shimmering in the dazzling light. Clara walked rapidly, unmoved by my fatigue. Heedless of the sun which charged the atmosphere and burned our skin despite our parasols, she walked freely—supple, bold and happy. Occasionally, in a tone of merry reproach, she said to me: “How slow you are, sweetheart. God, you're slow! You're not getting anywhere. If only the doors + + +of the bagnio aren't open when we get there, and the convicts aren't already gorged! It would be frightful! Oh, how I would detest you!” From time to time she gave me a hamamelis tablet, whose property is to stimulate the respiration; and, her eyes mocking me: “Oh, little woman!... little woman... little, insignificant woman!” Then, half laughing, half angry, she started to run, and I had great difficulty in following her. Several times I had to stop and catch my breath. I felt that my arteries would burst in my chest. And Clara repeated, in her warbling voice: “Little woman! Little, insignificant woman.” The path comes out upon the quay of the stream. Two great steamers were unloading coal and European merchandise; there were a few junks equipped for fishing, and a considerable flotilla of sampans with their parti−colored tents lay at anchor, rocked by the light lapping of the water. There was not a breath of air. This quay was offensive to me. It was dirty arid battered, covered with black dust and strewn with the entrails of fish. The stench, the sound of quarreling, + + +notes of a flute, and the barking of a dog came to us from within the hovels that flanked it lice−infested tea−houses, cutthroat shops, suspicious work stalls. Laughingly, Clara showed me a sort of little booth where, spread out on caladium leaves, they sold portions of rats and quartered dogs, rotten fish and emaciated chickens smeared with copal, bunches of bananas and bleeding bats, threaded on the same spit. As we went on the stench became more unbearable and the filth thicker. On the stream the boats were jammed and huddled—a mass of sinister prows and miserable sail, torn to rags. A dense population lived here fishermen and pirates—frightful demons of the sea with wizened faces, lips reddened by the betel, and glances which made you shudder. They were playing dice, howling, and fighting; others, more peaceful, were gutting fish which they then strung in garlands and hung out in the sun to dry on ropes. Still others were training monkeys to perform a thousand tricks and obscenities. “Amazing, isn't it?” Clara said to me. “And there are more than thirty thousand who have no other + + +homes than their boats! The devil only knows how they manage!” She lifted her dress, exposing the lower part of her lithe and agile leg, and for a long time we followed the horrible road, as far as the bridge which, with its bizarre superstructure and five massive arches painted in violent colors, straddled the stream at the mercy of the current and the eddies. Upon the bridge the scene changed, but the odor grew stronger—that odor peculiar to all of China, and which in the cities, forests, and fields, makes you think constantly of decomposition and death. Little shops built like pagodas, tents in the shape of kiosks draped with bright silky materials, immense parasols set up in chariots, baskets on wheels—all were crowded together. In these shops and under these tents and parasols fat merchants with bellies like hippopotami, clad in yellow, blue, and green robes, howling and tapping on gongs to attract customers, were hawking carcasses of all sorts: dead rats, drowned dogs, quartered deer and horses, purulent fowl, all piled pell−mell in broad bronze pans. + + +“Here, here, this way! Come this way! Look... and choose! You can find no better any place else. There is none rottener.” And, delving into the basins, they brandished vile quarters of sanious meat like flags at the end of long iron−prongs, and with fierce grimaces accentuating the slashes of rouge on their faces painted like masks, amid the maddening reverberation of the gongs and the simultaneous uproar they repeated: “Here, here, this way! Come this way. Look... and choose! You can find no better any place else. There is none rottener.” As soon as we had reached the bridge, Clara said to me: “Now, you see, we're late. It's your fault! Let's hurry!” In fact, a great crowd of Chinese women, and among them some English and Russian women—for there were only a very few men, except for the shopkeepers—was swarming on the bridge. Gowns embroidered with flowers and weird designs, variegated parasols, fans fluttering like birds, laughter, exclamations of joy and squabbling—all + + +these vibrated, sang and hovered in the sunlight, like a celebration of life and love. “Here, here, this way! Come this way!” Bewildered by the jostling, deafened by the screeching of the merchants and the sonorous vibrations of the gongs. I almost had to fight to make a way through the throng and protect Clara from insults and blows. It was truly a grotesque combat, for I possessed no resistance or strength, and felt myself carried along by this human tumult as easily as a dead tree tumbled about in the furious waters of a torrent. Clara hurled herself into the thick of it with all her strength. She submitted to the brutal contact and, so to speak, the violation of this crowd, with passionate delight. Once she cried gloriously: “Look, sweetheart! My dress is all torn. It's delicious!” We had great difficulty in opening a passage to die booths, which were crowded and besieged as for a pillage. “Look and choose! You can find no better any place else!” “Here, here, this way! Right this way!” + + +Clara took the darling little pitchfork from the hands of the boy who was following us with her darling little basket, and she prodded about in the pans: “You pick too... pick, sweetheart!” I felt my heart would fail me, because of the appalling odor of the grave which was wafted from these booths... stirred−up pans... all this crowd rushing upon the corpses as though they were flowers. “Clara... Clara!” I implored. “Let's go away, I beg you!” “Oh, how pale you are! And why! Isn't it a lot of fun?” “Clara, dear Clara!” I insisted, “I can't possibly stand this odor any longer.” “But it doesn't smell bad, my love. It smells of death, that's all.” She did not seem to be affected. No grimace of disgust wrinkled her white skin, fresh as a cherry blossom. From the veiled ardor of her eyes, from the fluttering of her nostrils, she seemed to be experiencing thrills of passion. She inhaled the + + +stench with delight, like a perfume. “Oh, he lovely... lovely piece!” With graceful gestures, she filled the basket with the abominable scraps. And, painfully, through the excited crowd and amid the vile smells, we continued on our way. “Quick! quick!” +PART 3 + +The Bangniois built on the bank of the river. Its quadrangular walls enclose more than a hundred thousand square meters of land. There isn't a single window, and no other opening than the immense door crowned by red dragons and fortified by heavy iron bars. The watchtowers, square towers surmounted by roofs with upturned edges, mark the four corners of the sinister battlements. Other smaller turrets are spaced between them at regular intervals. At night these towers are lit up like lighthouses, and cast around the bagnio, over the meadows and the stream, a revelatory light. One of the walls dips its solid foundations into the black, fetid, deep water, and is hung with slimy algae. By means of a drawbridge, a low door communicates with the stockade which extends to mid−stream and to whose piles many trade−junks and sampans are moored. Two spearmen, lance in hand, keep watch at the door! On the right of the stockade, a little cruiser, like our river patrol−boats, lies motionless, the mouths of its three cannons trained on the + + +bagnio. On the left, as far as the eye can see along the river, twenty−five or thirty lines of boats mask the opposite shore with a jumble of variegated hulls, gaudy masts, rigging and grey sails. And from time to time, you can see those massive paddlewheel boats passing, propelled by wretches locked in a cage who painfully work them with their tense stiff arms. Behind the bagnio, and as far as the mountain which girdles the horizon with a somber line, extend rocky, rolling fields, here dirty brown and there the color of dried blood, in which grow only scant acres, bluish thistles and stunted cherry trees that never bloom. Infinite desolation! Overwhelming misery! During eight months of the year the sky is blue—a blue washed with red in which the reflections of a perpetual fire glow—an implacable blue into which no chance cloud ever dares to venture. The sun parches the earth, bakes the rocks, and vitrifies the pebbles which burst underfoot with the crunching of glass and the crackling of flame. No bird defies this aerial furnace. Only invisible organisms live there—clumps of bacilli which, toward evening, when + + +the bleak mists rise with the chant of the sailors on the sluggish stream, distinctly assume the shapes of fever, pestilence, and death. What a contrast with the other shore, where the fat, rich soil covered, with gardens and orchards, nourishes giant trees and marvelous flowers! On the other side of the bridge we luckily found a palanquin, \which carried us across the scorching fields almost to the bagnio, whose doors were still closed. A squad of police, armed with lances and yellow pennants, with great shields which almost covered them, held back the huge impatient crowd, which was swelling every minute. There were rows of tents where people were drinking tea, munching pretty bonbons and rose—or acacia—petals rolled in a fine scented paste sprinkled with sugar. In others, musicians played the flute and poets recited verses, while the punka, fanning the torrid air, produced a slight breeze which cooled their faces. Strolling merchants sold images, stories of famous crimes, models of torture and martyrdom, prints and ivories, curiously obscene. Clara bought one of the latter, and said to me: + + +“You can see that the Chinese, who are accused of being barbarians, are, to the contrary, more civilized than we; for they are grounded deeper in the logic of life and the harmony of nature! They do not consider the act of love a shameful thing that should be hidden. To the contrary, they glorify it, hymning all the gestures and caresses; just like the ancients, moreover, for whom the sexual organ, far from being an object of infamy and an image of impurity, was a God! You see how all Occidental art loses by the fact that the magnificent expressions of love have been denied it. With us, eroticism is poor, stupid and frigid. It is always presented in ambiguous attitudes of sin, while here it preserves all its vital scope, all its passionate poetry and the stupendous pulse of all nature. But you are only a European lover... a poor, timid, chilly little soul, in whom Catholicism has stupidly inculcated a fear of nature and a hatred of love. It has warped and perverted the sense of life in you.” “Dear Clara,” I objected, “is it really natural for you to seek sensuality in decomposition, and urge Your desires to greater heights by horrible + + +spectacles of suffering and death? Isn't that, to the contrary, a perversion of that nature whose cult you invoke, in order perhaps to excuse whatever criminal and monstrous qualities your sensuality involves?” “No!” said Clara, quickly, “since love and death are the same thing! And since decomposition is the eternal resurrection of life... Look—“ Suddenly she interrupted herself, and said: “But why do you tell me that? You're funny!” And with a charming pout, she added: “How provoking that you don't understand anything! How is it you don't feel it? How is it you haven't already felt that it is—I don't even say by love, but by the heightened sensuality which is the perfection of love—that all the intellectual faculties of man awaken and become more acute? And it's by this sensuality alone that you attain the full development of personality. Look! In the act of love, have you ever thought, for instance, of committing a beautiful crime? That is to say, lifting yourself above social prejudices and all the laws—above everything, in fact? And if you haven't thought if it, then why do you bother making love?” + + +“I haven't the strength to argue,” I stammered, “and it seems to me we are walking in a nightmare. This sun... this crowd... these smells... and your eyes—ah, your torturous and lustful eyes—and your voice... and your penchant for crime... all that terrifies me, and it's all driving me mad!” Clara gave a little mocking laugh. “Poor little pet!” she sighed, comically. “You won't say that tonight, when you're in my arms... and when I love you!” The crowd was growing more and more restless. Bonzes crouched under parasols, laid out long red gowns, like pools of blood, struck frenzied blows on gongs and hurled gross invectives at the passers—by who, to counteract their curses, devoutly threw large pieces of change into metal bowls. Clara led me into a tent all embroidered with peach flowers, made me sit down by her on a pile of cushions, and stroking my forehead with her exciting hand—with her hand which dispensed forgetfulness and intoxication, she said to me: “My God, how long it takes, darling! Every week + + +it's the same thing. They take so long to open the door. Why don't you speak? Do I frighten you? Are you glad you came? Are you happy to have me caress you, dear beloved little rascal? Oh, your beautiful tired eyes! It's the fever—and it's me too! Say it's me. Do you Want to drink some tea? Do you want another hamamelis tablet?” “I'd rather not stay here longer! I'd rather sleep.” “Sleep! How strange you are. Oh, you'll see how beautiful it is! And what extraordinary... what Unknown... what marvelous desires it instills into Your flesh! We'll come back by the river, in my sampan. And we'll spend the night in a flower−boat. Wouldn't you like to?” She lightly tapped my hands several times with her fan. “But you're not listening to me! Why aren't you listening to me? You're pale and melancholy. And, really, you're not listening to me at all.” She snuggled up against me, sinuous and caressing: “You're not listening to me, wretch,” she went on. “And you don't even caress me! Caress me, darling! Feel how cold and firm my breasts are.” And, in a hollow voice, her eyes darting green, voluptuous and + + +cruel flames, she spoke like this. “Listen! Eight days ago I saw an extraordinary thing. Oh, dear love, I saw a man whipped for stealing a fish. The judge simply said this: 'One must not always say of a man who carries a fish in his hand: He is a fisherman'! And he sentenced the man to die under the iron rods. For a fish, darling! It took place in the torture−garden. The man was kneeling on the ground—imagine it—and his head rested on a sort of block... a block all black with old blood. His back and loins were bare; a back and loins like old gold! I arrived just at the moment when a soldier, having gripped his queue, which was very long, was knotting it to a ring riveted in a stone slab in the ground. Beside the culprit, another soldier was heating a little... a very little iron switch, at the fire of a forge. And then—pay attention to me! Are you listening? When the switch was red, the soldier whipped the man on the loins. The switch hissed in the air, and it penetrated far into the muscles, which crackled, and a little reddish steam arose... you understand? Then the soldier let the switch cool in the flesh, which bubbled up and closed over it. Then, + + +when it was cold, he violently jerked it out with a single movement, along with little bleeding bits. And the man hurled frightful cries of agony. Then the soldier began again. He did it fifteen times! And I too, darling—it seemed to me that with every blow, the switch entered my loins. It was fierce and very sweet!” As I was silent: “It was fierce and very sweet,” she repeated. “If you knew how handsome that man was... how strong he was! Muscles like those of a statue. Kiss me, darling... kiss me!” Clara's pupils had rolled back. Between her half closed lids I could see nothing but the whites of her eyes. Again she spoke: “He did not budge. It made little waves on his back. Oh, your lips!” After some seconds of silence, she went on: “Last year, with Annie, I saw something much more astonishing: I saw a man who had attacked his mother and then disemboweled her with a knife. It seemed, besides, that he was crazy. He was sentenced to the torture of the caress. Yes, my + + +darling. Isn't it wonderful? Strangers aren't allowed to witness that torture, which, besides, is very rare today. But we gave some money to the guard, who hid us behind a screen. Annie and I saw everything! The madman—he didn't seem to be mad—was stretched out on a very low table, his limbs and body were tied by stout ropes, and his mouth was gagged, so he couldn't make movement or utter a cry. A woman with a grave face, not beautiful, not young, and dressed entirely in black, her bare arm circled by a broad gold band, came and kneeled beside the madman. She grasped him and set about her task. Oh darling, darling, if you could have seen! It lasted four hours... four hours, think of it! Four hours of frightful and skilled caresses, during which the woman's hand did not relax a moment, during which her face remained cold and gloomy! The culprit died in a jet of blood, which splattered the entire face of the tormentress. Never have I seen anything so atrocious; and it was so atrocious, my darling, that both Annie and I fainted. I still think of it!” With an air of regret, she added: “On one of her fingers that woman had a huge + + +ruby which, during the torture, flashed in the sunlight like a little red dancing flame. Annie bought it, but I don't know what became of it. I'd like very much to have it.” Clara was silent, her mind having undoubtedly returned to the bloody image of that abominable memory. Some minutes later a murmur ran through the tents and the crowd. Through my heavy eyelids which despite me had almost closed at the horror of this tale, I saw gown after gown passing, and parasols, and fans, and happy faces, and accursed faces, dancing, whirling, rushing. It was like a burst of immense flowers, like a whirl of fantastic birds. “The doors, darling,” cried Clara, “the doors are being opened! Come, come quickly! And don't be sad any more. Ah, I beg you! Think of all the beautiful things you're going to see, and the ones I told you about!” I got up... and seizing my arm, she dragged me along, I know not where. + + +PART 4 + +The door to the Bagnio opened on a wide, dark corridor. Through the corridor, but from beyond, there came to us the sound of a bell, muffled and deadened by the distance. And hearing it, Clara joyfully clapped her hands. “Oh, darling! The bell! The bell! We're in luck. Don't be unhappy any more... don't be ill any more, I beg you!” The crowd was milling so furiously at the entrance of the bagnio that the police had great difficulty in bringing about a little order in the tumult. It was into this crush of cackling, shouting, and suffocating people into this rubbing of cloth against cloth, and jostling, of parasols and fans, that Clara resolutely hurled her self, exalted by the ringing of the bell. I had not thought of asking her why it was ringing like that, or the meaning of its muffled distant tolling, which caused her so much pleasure. “The bell! The bell! The bell! Come!” But we couldn't get very far despite the efforts of the boys carrying baskets who, thrusting out violently + + +with their elbows, were attempting to make way for their mistresses. Tall porters with grimacing faces, frightfully emaciated, their chests bare and scarred beneath their rags, were holding baskets of meat above their heads, in which the sun was accelerating decomposition and hatching swarm of maggots. They were specters of crime and famine, images of nightmare and massacre, demons materialized from the darkest and most terrifying legends of China. Nearby I saw one whose laugh exposed a slash of saw−toothed mouth with its betel−lacquered teeth, and extended to the edge of his billy−goat beard, sinister and distorted. Some were cursing and cruelly pulling each others queues; others, with the gliding movements of felines, were slipping through the human thicket, picking pockets, cutting purses, snatching jewels and then disappearing with their loot. “The bell! The bell!” repeated Clara. “But what bell?” “You'll see. It's a surprise!” And the smells that arose from the crowd—smells of the latrine and the + + +slaughter−house, the stink of corpses and the perfumes of living flesh—nauseated me and chilled me to the marrow. I felt the same lethargic sensation I had so often experienced in the forests of Annam, in the evening, when the miasma rose from the deepest leaf—mold and death lurked behind every flower, every leaf, and every blade of grass. At the same time, shoved and jostled from every side, my breath almost failing, I was finally at the point of fainting. “Clara! Clara!” I called. She made me breathe salts, whose cordial power restored me a little. She was unrestrained and delighted in the midst of this crowd whose odor she inhaled, and to whose repugnant embraces she submitted with a sort of swooning lust. She offered her body—all her lithe and vibrant body—to the brutality, the blows, and the clawing. Her white skin was now a glowing pink; her eyes reflected a languid thrill of sensual delight; her lips were swollen, like firm buds ready to blossom. Once more, with a sort of mocking pity, she said to me: “Ah, little woman! little woman... little woman! You'll never be anything but a little, insignificant + + +woman!” Coming from the dazzling and blinding light of the sun, the corridor which we finally reached seemed at first full of shadow. Then little by little the shadows faded away, and I could get a clear idea of where I was. The passageway was vast and lit from above by windows which only allowed an attenuated light to pass through their opaque glass. The cool and moist air, almost cold, wrapped me from head to foot, like the breath of a woodland spring. The walls sweated like the galleries of a subterranean grotto. Under my feet, burned by the pebbles of the field, the sand which covered the flags of the tunnel possessed the gentle softness of seaside dunes. I breathed the air deeply, with full lungs. Clara said to me: “You see how nice they are to the convicts here. At least they're cool.” “But where are they?” I asked. “l can see nothing but walls on either side.” Clara smiled. “How strange you are! Here you are more impatient than I! Wait... wait a little! In a minute, darling. Listen!” + + +She halted and pointed out a vague spot in the tunnel, her eyes more brilliant, her nostrils palpitating, her ears attentive to sound, like a doe at bay in the forest. “Do you hear? There they are! Do you hear?” Then, from beyond the murmur of the crowd which thronged the passageway, from beyond the hum of voices, I perceived cries, hollow moans, the dragging of chains, breaths panting like a forge—a strange and prolonged growling of beasts. It seemed to come from the depths of the wall, from below the ground, from the very abyss of death. You could not tell whence. “Do you hear?” Clara went on. “There they are... you'll see them in a minute... let's go! Take my arm. Watch out... there they are! There they are!” We started to walk again, followed by the boy who was attentive to the gestures of his mistress. And the frightful corpse−odor also accompanied us, no longer left us, and was augmented by other odors whose ammoniacal acridity stung our eyes—and throats. The bell still rang down there—far off—slow and soft, muffled, like the cry of a man in agony. For the + + +third time Clara repeated: “Oh, that bell! He's dying, he's dying, my darling. Perhaps we'll see him!” Suddenly I felt her fingers clenched tensely in my flesh. “Darling! darling! On your right! How horrible!” Swiftly, I turned my head. The infernal procession had begun. In the wall at the right there were vast cells, or rather cages, enclosed by bars and separated from each other by thick stone partitions. The first ten were each occupied by ten condemned men; and all ten offered the same spectacle. Their necks were clasped in a pillory so wide it was impossible to see their bodies, and you'd have thought they were frightful severed living heads placed on tables. Crouched amid their filth, their hands and feet chained, they could neither stretch nor lie down, nor even take a rest. The slightest movement displaced the iron collars about their bare throats and bleeding necks, and made them utter howls of pain, alternately interspersed with fierce insults to us and supplications to the gods. I was mute with horror. Deftly, with pretty shivers and exquisite gestures, + + +Clara prodded in the boy's basket, and lifted out some small scraps of meat, which she gracefully tossed through the bars of the cage. Ten heads simultaneously turned in their balanced collars; simultaneously, twenty bulging eyeballs cast inflamed glances at the meat—glances of terror and hunger. Then one cry of agony arose from the ten contorted mouths. And, conscious of their impotence, the condemned men did not move again. They remained with their heads slightly inclined as though ready to roll down the slope of the collar, their pale and fleshless features convulsed in a rigid grimace, in a sort of frozen leer. “They can't eat,” Clara explained. “They can't reach the meat. Naturally, in such contraptions, it's understandable. After all, it's not very new. It's the torture of Tantalus, redoubled by the horror of the Chinese imagination, eh? Would you believe there were such unhappy people in the world?” Again she cast through the bars a small bit of carcass which, falling on the edge of one of the collars, made it sway slightly. Hollow groans were the answer to this gesture; a fiercer and more + + +desperate hatred lit up the twenty eyeballs at the same time. Instinctively, Clara recoiled: “You see,” she continued in a less assured tone, “it amuses them for me to give them meat. It helps these poor devils pass the time... it provides them with a little illusion. Come along... come along!” We passed slowly before the ten cages. Women standing before them shouted, or uttered bursts of laughter, or abandoned themselves to impassioned mimicry. I saw a very blond, Russian woman with a cold, limpid glance, hold out to the sufferers a vile greenish mess, which she alternately extended and withdrew on the tip of her parasol. Baring their fangs like mad dogs, with starving expressions which no longer expressed anything human, they tried to snatch the food which always escaped their sticky, slavering mouths. Curious women watched with attentive and joyful faces all the moves of this cruel game. “What whores!” said Clara, seriously indignant. “Really, there are some women who have no respect for anything. It's shameful!” I asked: + + +“What crimes have these creatures committed, to suffer such torment?” She replied carelessly: “l don't know. Nothing, perhaps, or doubtless very little. Petty thefts from shopkeepers, I suppose. Besides, they are only common people... wharf−rats... vagabonds... paupers! They don't interest me very much. But there are others. You'll see my poet in a minute. Yes, I have a favorite here, and he's actually a poet! Isn't it funny? Ah, but he's a great poet, you know! He composed an admirable satire against a prince who had robbed the treasury. And he detests the English. “One evening two years ago he was brought to my house. He sang delightful things. But he excelled especially in satire. You'll see him. He's the handsomest... at least if he's not dead already! You see, in this regime nothing is astonishing. What annoys me most is that he doesn't recognize me any more. I talk to him... I sing his poems to him... and he no longer recognizes them. It's really horrible, don't you think? Bah! It s also funny, after all!” She tried to be gay, but her gaiety sounded false. Her face was grave; her nostrils palpitated faster. + + +She leaned on my arm more heavily, and I felt shivers run all through her body. Then I noticed that in the left wall, opposite each cell, deep niches had been cut which contained painted and sculptured wood which, with the frightful realism peculiar to the art of the Far. East, represented every species of torture in use in China: scenes of decapitation, strangulation, flaying and tearing of flesh... demoniacal and mathematical conceptions which pushed the science of torture to a refinement unknown to our Occidental cruelty, inventive as it is. It was a museum of horror and despair, where no human ferocity had been overlooked, and which every minute of the day ceaselessly recalled to the convicts, by precise imagery, the skilful death to which their executioners destined them. “Don't look at that!” Clara said with a pout of disgust. “They're only painted wood, my love. Look this way, where it's real—Look! There's my poet—right there!” And she halted abruptly before his cage. Pale, fleshless, slashed with a skeletal grin, its + + +cheek bones bursting the gangrenous skin, its jaws bare beneath the flaps of its trembling lips—a face was pressed against the bars, between two long, bony hands, like the dry feet of a bird. That face, from which every trace of humanity had disappeared forever; those bleeding eyes, and those hands, now scabby claws, terrified me. I backed up with an instinctive movement, to escape the feel of the pestilential breath of that mouth against my skin, and to avoid the scratch of those claws. But Clara quickly led me back before the cage. In its depths, in ominous shadow, five living beings who had once been men, were walking and walking, and turning and turning, their torsos bare, their skulls black with dried, blood−streaked wounds. Panting, barking, howling, they vainly tried to shake the solid stone of the partition by pushing violently against it. Then they started to walk and turn again, with the suppleness of beasts and the obscenities of monkeys. A wide, transverse partition hid the lower part of their bodies, and from the invisible floor of the cell a suffocating, deadly stench arose. “Good−day, poet!” said Clara, addressing the + + +Face. “I'm nice, eh? I've come to see you once again, poor dear man! Do you recognize me today? No? Why don't you recognize me? I'm still beautiful, and I loved you a whole night!” The Face did not budge. Its eyes never left the meat basket the boy was carrying. And from its throat there came a raucous, bestial sound. “Are you hungry?” Clara continued. “I'll give you something to eat. I've chosen the best piece at the market for you. But, first, would you like me to recite Your poem: The Three Mistresses? Would you? You'll enjoy hearing it.” And she recited: I have three mistresses. The first has a spirit mobile as a bamboo leaf. Her light and Playful spirit is like the feathery blossom of the eulalia. Her eye is like the lotus. And her beast is as firm as the lemon. Her hair, twisted in a single braid, falls over her golden shoulder like a black serpent. Her voice has the sweetness of mountain honey. Her loins are slender and lithe. Her thighs are round as the supple trunk of the + + +banana−tree. Her gait is that of a young and playful elephant. She loves passion, knows how to give it birth and vary it! I have three mistresses. Clara interrupted herself: “Don't you remember?” she asked, “don't you love my voice any more?” The Face had not budged. It seemed not to hear. Its eyes still devoured the horrible basket, and its tongue clacked in its mouth, wet with saliva. “Come,” said Clara. “Listen again! And you'll eat, since you're so hungry.” And in a slow and rhythmic voice she continued: I have three mistresses. The second has abundant hair which gleams and flows in long silky garlands. Her glance would disturb the God of Love. And make the wagtail blush. The body of that graceful woman flows like a golden vine. Her earrings are encrusted with precious stones. Like a flower jeweled with frost on a cold and + + +sunny morning. Her clothes are summer gardens. And temples on festival−days. And her firm, full breasts shine like a pair of golden vases Filled with intoxicating liquors and perfumes. I have three mistresses. “Ouah! ouah!” barked the Face, while in the cage the five other condemned creatures echoed the sinister bark, walking and walking, turning and turning... Clara continued: I have three mistresses. The hair of the third is plaited, And rolled about her head. And never has known the sweetness of perfumed oils. That face which mirrors passion is deformed, Her body is like a pig's. You'd say she was always angry. She always scolds and complains. Her breasts and belly exhale a fishy odor. She is ill−favored in her entire person. She eats everything and drinks to excess. + + +And her wan eyes are always bleary. And her bed is more repugnant than a lapwing's nest. And she is the one I love. And I love her because there is something more mysteriously attractive than beauty: it is corruption. Corruption in which the eternal heat of life resides, In which the eternal renewal of metamorphoses unfolds! I have three mistresses... The poem was ended. Clara was silent. Its eyes avidly fixed upon the basket, the Face had not ceased barking during the recitation of the last stanza. Then, addressing me sadly, Clara said: “You see, he doesn't remember anything any more! He has lost the memory of his verses, like my face. And that mouth I kissed no longer knows the words of mankind! It's really unheard of!” From the basket of meat she chose the best and thickest piece, and her body prettily thrust forward, she held it out at the tip of her pitchfork, to the fleshless Face whose eyes glowed like two little + + +braziers. “Eat, poor poet!” she said. “Now eat” With the motions of a starved beast, the poet seized the horrible stinking scrap in his claws and carried it to his mouth where, for a moment, I saw it hanging like a piece of filth from the streets, between the fangs of a dog. But immediately, in the shaking cage, there was roaring and pouncing. Nothing could be seen but bare torsos, mingled and clasped to each other, grasped by long, thin arms, torn by jaws and claws, and contorted faces tearing at the meat. I could see nothing more. And I heard the noise of struggle on the floor of the cage, chests panting and wheezing with raucous respiration, the thumping fall of bodies, scuffling of flesh, cracking of bones, the muffled shocks of carnage, and a rattling of throats! From time to time a face appeared above the partition with the prey in its teeth, then disappeared. More barking, more rattling in their throats, and then silence—then nothing! Clara clung to me, trembling. “Ah, my darling... my darling!” I cried to her: “Throw them all the meat. You see they're killing each other.” She clasped me, embraced me. + + +“Kiss me. Caress me... It's horrible! It's too horrible!” And lifting herself up to my lips, she said, in a fierce kiss: “I can't hear anything. They're dead. Do you think they're all dead?” When we lifted our eyes to the cage again, a fleshless and bloody Face was pressed between the bars and was looking at us steadily, almost proudly. A strip of meat hung from its lips, amid threads of purple slaver. Its chest heaved. Clara applauded, her voice still trembling. “It's he! It's my poet! He's the strongest!” She threw him all the meat in the basket, and with her throat tightening: “I'm stifling,” she said. “And you too—you're all pale, my love. Let's breathe the air in the Torture Garden for a little while.” Slight drops of perspiration beaded her forehead. She wiped them away, and turning to the poet, she spoke, accompanying her words with a slight gesture of her ungloved hand: “I'm happy you were the strongest today! Eat! Eat! I'll come to see you again. Good−bye.” + + +She dismissed the boy who now was no longer needed. We went up the middle of the corridor with a hurried step, despite the hindrance of the crowd, careful to avoid looking to the right or left. The bell still rang. But its vibrations were diminishing, diminishing so that they were no more than the breath of a breeze, a tiny infant's cry, smothered behind a curtain. “What does that bell mean? Where does it come from?” I asked. “What? Don't you know? Why, it's the bell in the Torture Garden! Imagine... They bind a victim, and they lay him under the bell. Then they ring it wildly until the vibration kills him! And when death is near, they ring it gently, gently, so it doesn't come too soon—like they're doing down there, now! Do you hear?” I was going to speak, but Clara closed my mouth with a tap of her unfolded fan. “Now be quiet! Don't say anything! And listen, my love. And think what a dreadful death they must bring—those vibrations beneath the bell. And come with me. And say nothing... nothing.” When we came out of the corridor, the bell was + + +no more than the drone of an insect... a rustling of wings, scarcely perceptible in the distance. + + +PART 5 + +In the center of the prison, the Torture Garden occupies an immense quadrilateral space, enclosed by walls whose stones can no longer be seen because of a thick covering of tangled shrubs and climbing plants. It was built towards the middle of the last century by Li−Pe−Hang, superintendent of the imperial gardens and the cleverest botanist China ever had. In the stacks of the Musee Guimet you may consult many works which celebrate his fame, and very curious prints in which his most illustrious works are set forth. The wonderful Kew Gardens—the only ones in Europe which satisfy us—owe much to him from a technical point of view, and also from the point of view of floral ornamentation and landscape gardening, but they are still a far cry from the pure beauty of the Chinese model. According to Clara, that exquisite attraction is lacking which is implied by the mingling of torture with horticulture, blood with flowers. The earth, composed of sand and pebbles, like all that barren terrain, was largely dug up and + + +reworked with virgin soil brought at great expense from the other side of the river. It is related that more than thirty thousand coolies perished of fever in the construction of this gigantic garden, which took twenty−two years. These hecatombs were far from being useless. Mingled with the soil as fertilizer—for they were buried on the spot the dead enriched it by their slow decomposition, and besides, in no other place, even in the heart of the most fantastic tropical jungles, could a land richer in natural mould be found. Its extraordinary fertility, far from being exhausted in the end, still operates today through the excrement of the prisoners, the blood of the tortured, and all the organic debris the crowd deposits there every week which, carefully collected and cleverly rendered with the daily corpses in special retting vats, forms a potent compost for which plants are greedy and which makes them more vigorous and beautiful. Forks of the river, ingeniously diverted through the garden according to the requirements of the vegetation, provide a permanent moisture, and at the same time serve to fill the pools and canals, whose water is thus constantly renewed, and in + + +which almost extinct zoological forms are conserved—among others, the famous fish with six humps, celebrated by Yu−Sin and our compatriot, the poet Robert de Montesquiou. The Chinese are incomparable gardeners, quite superior to our vulgar horticulturists, who only attempt to destroy the beauty of plants by disrespectful practices and criminal hybridizations. The latter are actual malefactors, and I cannot imagine why very drastic penal laws have not already been passed against them, in the name of all life. I should even be happy to see them mercilessly guillotined, in preference to those anemic assassins whose social 'selectivism' is much more laudable and generous, since, the majority of the time, it only singles out very ugly old ladies and vile bourgeois, who are a perpetual outrage to life. Besides having pushed their infamy to the point of deforming the touching beauty of simple flowers, our gardeners have dared to perpetrate that degrading joke of giving to the fragility of roses, to the star like rays of the clematis, to the heavenly glory of the larkspur, to the heraldic mystery of the iris and to the modesty of + + +the violet—the names of old generals and disgraced politicians. In our flower−beds it is not rare to encounter an iris, for instance, baptized: General Archinard! There are narcissi—narcissi!—grotesquely designated: The Triumph of President Felix Faure; hollyhocks which, without protesting, accept the ridiculous appellation of: Mourning for Monsieur Thiers; violets—timid, sensitive and exquisite violets, to whom the names of General Skobeleff and Admiral Avellan have not seemed insulting nicknames! Flowers—all beauty, light and joy—all tenderness too, evoking the fierce mustachios and heavy riding−breeches of a soldier, or the parliamentary top−knot of a minister! Flowers mixing with political opinions and serving to spread electoral propaganda! To what aberrations and intellectual degeneration might such blasphemies and attempts at the divinity of things correspond? If it were possible that a being so stripped of a soul felt a hatred for flowers, European, and particularly French, gardeners would amply prove this inconceivably sacrilegious paradox! Being perfect artists and ingenuous poets, the + + +Chinese have piously preserved the love and holy cult of flowers; one of the very rare and most ancient traditions which has survived their decadence. And since flowers had to be distinguished from each other, they have attributed graceful analogies to them, dreamy images, pure and passionate names which perpetuate and harmonize in our minds the sensations of gentle charm and violent intoxication with which they inspire us. So it is that certain peonies, their favorite flower, are saluted by the Chinese, according to their form or color, by these delicious names, each an entire poem and an entire novel: The Young Girl Who Offers Her Breasts, or: The Water That Sleeps Beneath the Moon, or: The Sunlight in the Forest, or: The First Desire of the Reclining Virgin, or: My Gown Is No Longer All White Because in Tearing It the Son of Heaven Left a Little Rosy Stain; or, even better, this one: I Possessed My Lover in the Garden. And Clara who told me all these charming things, cried indignantly and stamped on the ground with her little feet, shod in yellow leather: “And they treat these divine poets, who call their + + +flowers I Possessed My Lover in the Garden, like lice and savages!” The Chinese are rightfully proud of the Torture Garden, the most thoroughly beautiful perhaps in all China, where, moreover, marvelous gardens are common. Here are gathered the rarest species of their flora, the most delicate as well as the hardiest, those which come from the snow−line on the mountains, or sprout in the burning furnace of the meadows, and also those, mysterious and fierce, which are hidden in the most impenetrable jungles, and to which popular superstition has given the names of evil genii. From the mangrove to the saxatile azalea, from the horned and biflorous violet to the distillating nepenthe, from the volubilate hibiscus to the stoloniferous helianthus, from the androsace, invisible in its rocky fissure, to the most wildly twining liana, each specie is represented by numerous specimens which, gorged with organic nourishment and treated according to the proper formula by clever gardeners, take on abnormal forms and colorations, whose prodigious intensity we have difficulty in imagining in our gloomy climate and our + + +uninspired gardens. In the hollow of a valley from which a number of sinuous alleys and paths branch out bordered by flowers in a supple and harmoniously flowing design, a vast pool crossed by the arch of a wooden bridge painted bright green, marks the center of the garden. White water lilies and nelumbos brighten its surface with their trailing leaves and floating corollas—yellow, mauve, white, rose and purple. Tufts of iris lift their slender stalks, on whose tops strange, symbolic birds seem to perch; and plumed rushes, galingales like hair, and giant luzula: mingle their incongruous leafage with the phalliform and vulvoid clusters of the most stupefying arum−lilies. On the edge of the pool, by an inspired calculation, amid the plaited hart's−tongue, globe−flowers and inulre, artistically trimmed glycines rise and arch over the water, which reflects their blue, swaying clusters. And pearl−grey cranes with silky plumes and scarlet wattles, white herons and white storks with Manchurian blue necks, stalk about amid the high grass with indolent grace and sacerdotal majesty. + + +Here and there on little hillocks and red rocks covered with dwarf ferns, androsace, saxifrage and creeping shrubs, slim and graceful kiosks lift above the bamboos and the dwarf cedars the pointed cones of their gilded roofs, and the delicate ribs of their framework whose extremities curve inward and up with a bold movement. Along the slopes, every species swarms: epimedia issuing from among the stones, with its frail flowers stirring and fluttering like insects; orange hemerocallis offering its calyx of a day to the hawk—moth and white renothera offering its calyx of an hour; fleshy opuntia, eomecons, morrea, and sheets, streams, and brooklets of primroses—those Chinese primroses which are so extremely polymorphous, and of which we possess only poverty−stricken images in our hot−houses. And there were so many charming and bizarre forms, and so many blending colors: and around the kiosks, between the patches of lawn, in the tremulous distance, it was like a rosy, mauve, and white rain, a variegated shimmering, a pearly, pink, and milky pulsation so tender and changing that it is impossible for me to express in words its infinite sweetness and + + +ineffable idyllic poetry. How had we come there? I knew nothing of it. Under Clara's hand a door had suddenly opened in the walls of the dark corridor. And suddenly, as though by the influence of a fairy wand, I was flooded with celestial light, and before me there were horizons and horizons! I gazed, dazzled; dazzled by the softer light, the gentler sky, dazzled even by the great blue shadows that the trees laid softly upon the grass, like voluptuous rugs; dazzled by the touching magic of the flowers and the floors of peonies that the slight shelter of the reeds shielded from the mortal heat of the sun. On one of the lawns, not far from us, a sprinkler sprayed water in which all the colors of the rainbow played, and through which the grass and flowers took on the translucence of precious stones. I gazed greedily, never tiring. But then I did not see all those details which I reconstructed later; I saw only an ensemble of mysteries and beauties whose sudden and consoling apparition I did not attempt to explain to myself. No more did I wonder whether it was reality that surrounded me, or only a + + +dream. I wondered about nothing, thought of nothing, said nothing. Clara talked and talked. Doubtless she was still telling me story after story. I wasn't listening to her, nor did I feel her at my side. At that moment, her presence beside me was so far from me! And her voice was so far away, and so strange. Little by little, I finally regained my self−possession, my memories, and a perception of the realities of things, and I understood why and how I happened to be there. Emerging from inferno, still pale from the horror of those faces of the damned, my nostrils still filled with the odor of decomposition and death, and my ears still humming with the howls of torture, the sight of this garden brought me sudden relaxation, after an exaltation and an unreal ascension of my entire being towards a dazzling land of dream. With delight, I drew in great gulps of the new air so impregnated with so many fine and soft aromas. It was the inexpressible joy of awakening after an oppressing nightmare. I tasted that ineffable impression of freedom which a man might feel who, having been buried alive in a frightful charnel house, has just lifted + + +its stone and been resurrected to the sunlight with his flesh intact, his limbs freed, and his soul reborn. A bench made of bamboo trunks was close by in the shadow of an immense ash whose purple leaves sparkled in the sun, creating the illusion of a dome of rubies. I sat down, or rather, I let myself fall back, for the joy of all this splendid life almost made me faint with an unsuspected passion. And at my left I saw a Buddha, the stone guardian of this garden, squatting on his rock and displaying his tranquil face—his face of sovereign kindness, bathed in azure and sunlight. Sheaves of flowers and baskets of fruit covered the pedestal of the statue with propitiatory and perfumed offerings. A young girl in a yellow dress reached up to the forehead of the inexorable god, and piously crowned it with lotus and lady−slipper. Swallows swooped about, uttering little joyful squeaks. Then I thought−and with what religious enthusiasm and mystic adoration!—of the sublime life of him who, long before our Christ, had preached purity to men, and enunciation, and love. But, hovering over me like sin itself, Clara, her + + +mouth red, and like the flower of the cydonia, Clara with her green eyes, the grey−green of the young fruit of the almond tree, hastened to lead me back to reality, and, indicating the garden with a broad gesture, she said: “See, my love, what marvelous artists the Chinese are, and how they contrive to make nature an accomplice of the refinement of their cruelty! In our frightful Europe which, for so long a time has not known what beauty is, they torture in secret, in the depths of their jails, or in public squares, among the vile drunken crowds. Here, it's among flowers, amid the prodigious enchantment and prodigious silence of ail the flowers, that the instruments of torture are erected, the stake, the scaffold and the cross. You'll see them right away, so intimately mingled with the splendor of this floral orgy and the harmony of this unique and magical nature, that they seem in some way to merge with her, and be the miraculous flowers of this soil and this light.” And, as I could not suppress a gesture of impatience: “Silly!” said Clara. “Little fool! You don't understand anything!” Her forehead barred by a hard + + +shadow, she continued: “Come! Have you ever been at a festival when you were sad or ill? Well, then you've felt how much your sadness was irritated and exasperated, as by an insult, by the joyful faces and the beauty of things. It's an intolerable feeling. Think of what it must mean to a victim who is going to die under torture. Think how much the torture is multiplied in his flesh and his soul by all the splendor which surrounds him; and how much more atrocious is his agony, how much more hopelessly atrocious, darling!” “I was thinking of love,” I replied in a tone of reproach, “and here you are talking to me again—forever—about torture!” “Doubtless! since it's the same thing—” She had been standing beside me, her hands on my shoulder. And the red shadow of the ash wrapped her in a fiery glow. She sat down on the bench and continued: “—and, since there are tortures wherever there are men, I can't do anything about it, my baby, and I try to adjust myself to it and enjoy it, for blood is a precious auxiliary of desire. It's the wine of love.” + + +With the tip of her parasol, she traced some naively indecent figures in the sand, and she said: “I'm sure you think the Chinese crueler than we. No... not at all! We English? Ah, don't mention it! And you French? In your Algeria, in the confines of the desert, I saw this: One day some soldiers captured some Arabs; poor Arabs who had committed no other crime than to try to escape the brutality of their conquerors. The Colonel commanded them to be put to death immediately, without an inquiry, without a trial. And this is what happened: There were thirty of them. They dug thirty holes in the sand, and they buried them up to their necks, naked, with their heads shaved, in the noonday sun. So they wouldn't die too fast they watered them from time to time, like cabbages. At the end of an hour their eyelids were swollen, their eyes bulged from their sockets, their swollen tongues filled their mouths, which gaped frightfully, and their skin cracked and roasted on their skulls. It was unimaginative, I assure you, and even devoid of terror—those thirty dead heads, sticking out of the sand like shapeless rocks! And we! It's still worse! Ah, I remember the strange sensation I felt + + +when, at Kandy, the gloomy former capital of Ceylon, I went up the steps of the temple where the English had stupidly, without torture, slaughtered the little Modeliar princes who, legends tell us, were so charming... like those skillfully made Chinese ikons, with so hieratically calm and pure of grace, and their golden halos and their long hands pressed together. I felt that what had happened there on those sacred steps, still uncleansed of that blood by eighty years of violent possession—was something more horrible than a human massacre; the destruction of a precious, touching and innocent beauty. The traces of that double European barbarity may be found at every step you take on the ancestral soil of that suffering and always mysterious India. The boulevards of Calcutta, the cool Himalayan villas in Darjeeling, the tribades of Benares and the sumptuous homes of the contractors in Bombay have not been able to efface the impression of mourning and death left everywhere by the atrocity of unskillful massacre, vandalism and senseless destruction. To the contrary, they accentuate it. No matter in what place it appears, civilization displays + + +that face which bears the double imprint of sterile blood and ruins forever dead. Like Attila, it might say: 'Grass no longer grows where my horse has trod.' Look here, before you and around you! There is not a grain of sand that has not been bathed in blood, and what is that grain of sand itself, if not the dust of death? But how rich this blood is, and how fertile is the dust! Look... the grass is thick... flowers swarm everywhere and love is everywhere!” Clara's face became exalted. A gentle melancholy softened the bar of shadow across her forehead and veiled the green flames of her eyes. She continued: “Ah, how sad and poignant the little dead city Kandy seemed to me that day! In the torrid heat, a heavy silence hovered over it, and vultures circled in the air. Some Hindus came out of the temple, where they had brought flowers to the Buddha. The gentle depth of their eyes, the nobility of their brows, the suffering fragility of their bodies, consumed by fever, the biblical slowness of their gait—all that moved me to the depths of my being. They seemed in exile on their native soil, close to their kindly God, chained + + +and watched over by Sepoys. And there was no longer anything earthly in their black pupils... nothing more than a dream of corporeal release, awaiting the dazzling light of nirvana. I do not know what feeling of respect for humanity prevented me from kneeling before these sorrowful, venerable fathers of my race—my parricidal race. I merely saluted them humbly, but they passed by without seeing me—without seeing my greeting—without seeing the tears in my eyes and the filial emotion which swelled my breast. And when they had passed by I felt that I hated Europe with a hatred that would never be extinguished.” Suddenly interrupting herself, she said: “But I'm boring you, eh? I don't know why I'm telling you all this. It has no bearing on the subject. I'm crazy!” “No, no, dear Clara,” I replied, kissing her hands. “To the contrary, I love you to talk to me like that. Always talk to me like that!” She continued: “After visiting the poor bare little temple, whose entrance was decorated by a gong—the only vestige of its former wealth—after breathing the odor of the + + +flowers with which the image of the Buddha was all strewn, I went sadly back to the city. It was deserted. That grotesque and sinister manifestation of Occidental progress, a pastor—the only human being—was prowling about, skirting the walls, a lotus blossom stuck in his mouth. In that blinding sunlight he had preserved—as in the city fogs—his ridiculous clergyman's costume; a soft black felt hat, a long black coat with a tight, greasy collar, and black trousers falling in ugly folds over the massive boots of a drayman. This dingy costume of a Protestant preacher was accompanied by a white parasol, a sort of ridiculous, portable punka, the sole concession the bigot made to the local customs and the Indian sun which the English have not to this day been able to turn into a sooty fog. And I irritably reflected that you can't take a step from the equator to the poles without running into that suspicious face, those rapacious eyes, those claw like hands and that vile mouth, which goes breathing the frightful verses of the Bible, in an odor of stale gin, over the charming divinities and adorable myths of naive religions.” + + +She grew excited. Her eyes expressed an overwhelming hatred which I would never have expected of them. Forgetting where we were, and her recent criminal enthusiasms and bloody exaltations, she said: “Wherever there is spilt blood to justify, piracy to consecrate, violation to bless, hideous traffic to protect, you are sure to see this British Tartuffe pursuing the work of abominable conquest under the pretext of religious proselytism or scientific study. His cruel and crafty shadow is cast over the wreckage of conquered people, coupled with that of the cutthroat soldier and the usurious Shylock. In the virgin forests where the European is more rightfully feared than the tiger, on the threshold of the humble, devastated hut, between the burning cabins, he appears after the massacre like the hangers−on of an army come to rifle the dead in the evening of a battle. A crony worthy of his rival, the Catholic missionary, who also brings civilization at the flame of a torch, and the point of a saber or a bayonet. Alas, China is invaded and devoured by these two scourges! In a few years nothing will remain of this marvelous country where I + + +love so much to live!” Suddenly she got up, uttering a cry: “And the bell, my love! I can't hear the bell any more. Ah, my God, he'll be dead! While we were here, talking, they probably took him to the morgue, and we won't see him! It's your fault too... “ She made me get up from the bench. “Quick, quick, darling!” “We're not in a hurry, my dear Clara. We'll always see enough horrors. Speak to me some more as you Were speaking a moment ago, when I loved your voice so much; when I loved your eyes so much!” She grew impatient: “Quick, quick! You don't know what you're saying!” Her eyes had become hard again, her voice panting, her mouth imperiously cruel and sensual. Then it seemed to me that the Buddha's face itself, distorted by the sunlight, became the twisted, sneering face of an executioner. And I saw the young girl who had made her offering, going away down a path between the lawns, in the distance. Her yellow dress was very small, light and gleaming, like a narcissus blossom. + + +The path we walked on was bordered by peach trees, cherry trees, wild quince and almond trees, some dwarfed and trimmed in bizarre shapes, others free, bushy, and thrusting their long branches laden with flowers in every direction. A little apple tree, whose wood, leaves, and blossoms were bright red, assumed the form of a bulging vase. I also noticed an admirable tree, which is called the birch−leaf pear tree. It rose in a perfect pyramid to a height of six meters, and from its wide base to its sharp cone−shaped tip, it was so covered with flowers that neither its leaves nor branches were visible. Innumerable petals continuously dropped off and others opened, and they fluttered around the pyramid and floated slowly onto the paths and lawns, covering them with the whiteness of snow. And the air in the distance was impregnated with the subtle scents of egrantine and mignonette. Then we skirted clumps of shrubbery decorated with tiny−flowered deutzias in large pink clusters, and those pretty Pekin ligustrums with their shaggy foliage and great feathery panicles of white flowers powdered with sulphur. + + +At every step there was a fresh delight and a surprise for the eyes, which made me utter cries of admiration. Here there was a vine, whose broad light leaves I had noticed in the mountains of Annam, irregularly indented and denticulated—as denticulated and indented and broad as castor−oil leaves, which enlaced an immense dead tree with its tendrils, climbed to the topmost branches and from there fell in a cascade, a cataract, an avalanche, sheltering from the sun an entire flora, which blossomed out at the base between the leaves, colonnades amid niches formed by its tumbling twigs. There, a stephanotis displayed its paradoxical foliage, preciously wrought like cloisonne, and I marveled at its multiple gradations of color, from peacock−green to steel−blue, from a delicate pink to a barbaric purple, and from a light yellow to a rich brown ochre. Close by, a group of gigantic viburnums, as high as oaks, shook snowy globes at the tip of every branch. From place to place gardeners, kneeling in the grass or perched on red ladders, were training clematis over fine bamboo armatures; others were + + +twining ipomcea and calystegia about long thin props of black wood. And everywhere on the lawns, lilies lifted their stalks ready to blossom. Trees, bushes, clumps of foliage, isolated or clustered plants, seemed at first to have grown wherever their seed had fallen at random, uncared for, without any other will than nature's, without any other design than that of life itself. It was an error. To the contrary, the location of every plant had been laboriously studied and chosen, either so the colors and forms would complement each other and set each other off, or so as not to interfere with plans, aerial perspectives and floral vistas, and thus multiply sensations by combining patterns. The humblest flower as well as the greatest tree assisted in an unbroken harmony by its very position,' in an ensemble of art whose effect was all the more stirring by the very fact that it gave no appearance of geometrical labor or decorative effort. Everything seemed also to have been arranged by the munificence of nature, for the triumph of peonies. On the gentle slopes, sown like lawns, lay strips + + +of odorous woodruff and pink crucianella, roses the color known as old rose, and fields of arborescent peonies like sumptuous carpets. Near by there were single blossoms that held out to us their immense calyxes, red, black, copper, orange, and purple. Others, ideally pure, offered the most virginal shades of pink and white. The peonies were actual fairies, miraculous queens of this miraculous garden. They were gathered in glistening masses, or lay singly beside the path, meditative at the foot of the trees and amorous beside the clumps of shrubbery. Wherever the eye wandered, it encountered a peony. On the stone bridges, entirely covered with saxatile plants, whose bold sweep bound the masses of rock together and lay on paths between the kiosks, peonies marched by like a holiday throng. Their brilliant procession scaled the hillocks around which the alleys and paths, bordered by slender silver prickwood and privet trimmed in hedges, climbed, crossed and tangled. I admired a little knoll where, protected by mats on very low, white walls built like snail−shells, there stretched the most precious species of peonies, warped by clever artists + + +onto an intricate lattice. In the gaps between these walls, perennial peonies bunched on high, bare stems, were spaced in square boxes. And the summit was crowned with thick clusters and massy bushes of the sacred plant which blossoms so rarely in Europe, but flourishes here throughout the year. And at my right, at my left, near by or quite lost in the distance, there lay forever and ever, peonies, peonies, and peonies... Clara had started to walk very rapidly again, almost insensible to all this beauty; she walked, her forehead barred by a hard shadow, her pupils glowing. She seemed carried away by some destructive power. She spoke, and I heard nothing—or very little, of what she said. The words, 'death', 'charm', 'torture', and 'love', which fell ceaselessly from her lips, seemed no more to me than a distant echo, the tiny voice of a scarcely audible bell far, far off, and melting into the glory, triumphs, and serene and stupendous passion of this dazzling life about me. Clara walked and walked, and I walked beside her, and everywhere there was a fresh surprise: + + +peonies, dreamlike or fantastic bushes, blue prickwood, violently streaked holly, plaited and twisting magnolias, dwarf cedars which were ruffled like a head of hair, aralia and tall grass, giant eulalia, whose ribbon−like leaves hung and swayed like snake−skins flaked with gold. There were also tropical species; unknown trees on whose trunks obscene orchids swayed; the Indian banyan, rooted in the soil by its multiple branches; immense nusas, and in the shade of their leaves, flowers like insects, like birds, such as the fairylike strelitzia, whose yellow petals are wings and flutter ceaselessly. Suddenly Clara halted as though an invisible hand had brutally been laid upon her. Anxious, tense, her nostrils palpitating like a doe's which has just scented the odor of the male on the wind, she inhaled the air about her. A shiver, which I recognized as the forerunner of a spasm, ran through her entire body. Her lips instantly became red and swollen. “Did you smell it?” she said, in an abrupt, hollow voice. “I smell the aroma of the peonies which fills the + + +garden,” I replied. She stamped on the earth with an impatient foot: “It's not that! Didn't you smell it? Try to remember!” And, her nostrils dilating, her eyes more brilliant, she said: “It smells like when I love you!” Then quickly, she bent over a plant, a thalictrum which lifted a long, branching, light violet stem beside the path. Each auxiliary branch issued from an ivory−like sheath the shape of a yoni, and ended in a cluster of tiny little flowers, thickly bunched and covered with pollen: “This is it! This is it! Oh my darling!” In fact, a powerful phosphoric odor, an odor of semen rose from this plant. Clara plucked its stalk, forced me to breathe the strange odor; then, sprinkling my face with pollen: “Oh, darling! darling!” she said, “what a lovely plant! How it intoxicates me. How it maddens me! Is it strange that there are plants that smell of love? Why not? You don't know? Well, I do! Why are there so many flowers like human organs, if not because nature ceaselessly cries to living beings in all her + + +forms, and all her perfumes: 'Love each other! love each other! Be like the flowers. There is nothing but love!' Oh, tell me quickly, darling little swine... “ She continued to inhale the odor of the thalictrum and chewed at the cluster, whose pollen stuck to her lips. And abruptly she declared: “I want them in my garden... I want them in my room... in the kiosk... in all the house. Smell, darling, smell! A simple plant, isn't it wonderful! And now, come... come! If only we don't get there too late... to the bell!” With a pout, which was both comical and tragic, she continued: “Why did you linger down there on that bench? Don't look at all these flowers; don't look at them anymore! You'll see them better later—after seeing suffering and death. You'll see how much more beautiful they are, and what ardent passion their perfumes excite! Smell again, darling; and come! And feel my breasts. How firm they are! The silk of my dress excites their nipples... it feels like a hot iron burning them. It's delicious. Come now!” She started to run, her face all yellow with pollen, and the stalk of the thalictrum between her teeth. + + +Clara did not care to halt before another image of Buddha, whose face, wrinkled and devoured by time, grimaced in the sunlight. A woman was offering it cydonia branches, and these flowers seemed like little children's hearts to me. At the turn of the alley, we passed a litter carried by two men, on which there stirred a bundle of bleeding flesh; a sort of human being, whose skin, cut in strips, trailed on the ground like rags. Although it was impossible to recognize the slightest vestige of humanity in that hideous wound which, moreover, once had been a man. I felt that by some miracle it was still breathing. And drops of blood spotted the pathway. Clara plucked two peonies and laid them silently upon the litter with a trembling hand. With a brutal smile, the porters bared their black gums and their lacquered teeth, and when the litter had passed: “Ah, ah! I see the bell,” said Clara, “I see the bell!” And all about us, and all about the litter disappearing in the distance, there was like a rosy, white, and mauve rain, a variegated shimmering, a pearly, pink, and milky pulsation so tender and changing that it is impossible for me to express in + + +words its infinite sweetness and ineffable idyllic poetry... + + +PART 6 + +We left the curving alley into which other alleys branch on their circuitous way to the center, and which runs along an embankment planted with many rare and precious, shrubs, and took a little path which follows a dip in the land and ends directly at the bell. Paths and alleys were sanded with pulverized brick, which gave to the green of the lawns and foliage an extraordinary intensity and the transparence of an emerald under the light of a chandelier. To the right there were flowering lawns; to the left, more shrubbery. Pink acers rubbed with pale silver, bright gold, bronze or red—copper; mahonia, whose leaves of reddish−brown copper were broad as the leaves of a cocoanut palm; eleagnus, which seemed to have been coated with polychrome lacquer; pyrus, powdered with mica; laurel, on which there twinkled and glittered the thousand facets of a variegated crystal; caladium, whose veins of old gold set off the embroidered silks and Pink lace of the blossom; arbor vitre both blue, mauve, silver and plumed with sickly yellows and + + +poisonous orange; pale tamarisk, green tamarisk, red tamarisk, whose branches swayed and floated in the air like slender alga: in the sea; cotton−plants, whose tufts took flight and traveled ceaselessly through the air; salix and its joyous swarm of winged seeds; and clerodendron, spreading its large scarlet bells like parasols. In the sunny spaces between these shrubs, anemones, ranunculus and heucliera were sprinkled through the grass; in the shady spots strange cryptograms showed themselves, mosses covered with minute white flowerlets, and lichens like agglomerations of polyps and clumps of madrepores. It was a perpetual enchantment. And in the midst of this floral magic, there arose scaffolds, the apparatus of crucifixion, gibbets with violent decorations and black gallows, on whose tops there leered frightful demon masks; high gallows for simple strangulation, lower gibbets mechanically equipped for the tearing of flesh. On the shafts of these torture columns—as a diabolic refinement—pubescent calystegia, ipomcea from Daoura, lophospermum and colocynth spread their blossoms, and clematis and atragene. Birds piped + + +their love−songs there. At the foot of one of these gibbets, covered with flowers like the column of a terrace, an executioner was seated, his instrument−case between his feet, cleaning his fine steel implements with silk cloths; his gown was all covered with splattered blood and his hands seemed gloved in red. Around him, as around a corpse, there hummed and whirled swarms of flies. But in this haven of flowers and perfumes, this was neither repugnant nor terrible—it seemed that petals from a neighboring quince tree had rained upon his robe. Besides, he had a peaceful and good−natured belly. His face, in repose, expressed kindliness and even joviality; the joviality of a surgeon who has just brought a difficult operation to a successful finish. As we passed, he lifted his eyes and greeted us politely. Clara spoke to him in English. “It's really too bad you didn't come along an hour earlier,” this good man said, “you'd have seen something very lovely... something that isn't seen every day. An extraordinary job, milady. I rebuilt a man from head to foot, after removing his entire skin. He was so badly built! Ha! ha!” + + +Trembling with laughter, his belly alternately swelled and sank with a hollow, rumbling sound. A nervous tic lifted the slit of his mouth up to his cheekbone and, at the same time, his lowered eyelids touched the edge of his lips, amid the fat folds of his face. And this grimace, which was a multitude of grimaces, gave his face an expression of comical and macabre cruelty. Clara asked: “Doubtless he's the one we met just now on the litter?” “Ah, you met him?” exclaimed the good man, flattered. “Well, what did you think of him?” “How horrible!” said Clara, in a tranquil voice which belied her exclamation of disgust. Then the executioner explained: “Be was a miserable harbor coolie... nothing at all, milady. He really didn't deserve the honor of so fine a piece of work. It seems he stole a sack of rice from the English... our dear, good friends, the English. When I had taken off his skin, and it hung to his shoulders only by two little buttons, I made him walk, milady! ha! ha! Truly, a great idea! You'd have split your sides. He seemed to be wearing—what do + + +you call the thing?—ah, yes, indeed! an inverness? Never had the dog been better dressed, nor by a better tailor. But he had bones so hard I chipped my saw on them—this beautiful saw.” A little, whitish, greasy bit remained between the teeth of the saw. With a flip of the nail he made it leap and sent it off into the grass, among the flowerlets. “That's marrow, milady,” said the jolly old fellow. “He didn't have too much of it.” And shaking his head, he added: “They very seldom have much of it, for we work almost exclusively with the lower class.” Then, with an air of tranquil satisfaction: “Yesterday, it was very strange. I made a woman out of a man. He! he! And it was such a good job you couldn't tell the difference, and I myself was fooled looking at him. Tomorrow, if the genii grant me a woman on this gibbet, I'll make a man of her. That's not as easy! Ha, ha!” Under the stimulus of another laugh, his triple chin, the pads of his neck, and his belly trembled like jelly. A single, red, arched line then joined the left corner of his mouth to the seam of his left eyelid, + + +among the puffs and furrows from which flowed little streams of sweat and tears of laughter. He put the cleansed and gleaming saw into the case and closed it. Its box was lovely and of an excellent lacquer: a flight of wild geese over a nocturnal pool, where the moon silvered the lotus and the iris. At that moment, the shadow of the gallows threw a transverse purple bar across the body of the executioner. “You see, milady,” continued the talkative fellow, “our trade, just like our lovely vases, our beautiful embroidered silks, and lovely lacquers, is disappearing little by little. Today we no longer know what torture really is, although I try to carryon its real tradition. I am swamped, and I can't stay its decadence all by myself. What can you do? Now they recruit executioners from God knows where! No more examinations, no more competitions. Influence and protection alone decide their choice. And what choices, if you only knew! It's shameful! In the olden days, they only entrusted these important functions to actual scientists, men of merit who knew the anatomy of the human body perfectly, who had + + +diplomas, experience, or natural talent. Today what the hell! The merest shoemaker can presume to fill these honorable and difficult positions. No more hierarchy,. no more traditions! Everything is disappearing, for we live in a chaotic age. There is something rotten in China, milady.” He sighed deeply, and showing us his red hands, and the instrument case gleaming in the grass beside him, he continued his long recital: “However, I do the best I can, as you have seen, to resurrect our abolished prestige. For I'm an old conservative myself, an uncompromising nationalist, and I despise all these practices, all these new methods which the Europeans, and particularly the English, are bringing us under pretext of civilization. I should not care to slander the English, milady; they are honest and very respectable people. But you must admit their influence on our customs has been disastrous. Every day they deprive our China of its unique character. From the point of view of torture alone, milady, they have done us much harm... much harm. It's a great shame!” “They know how, however,” Clara interrupted, + + +wounded in her national pride by this reproach; for though she really desired to display severity towards her compatriots, whom she detested, she intended to have them respected by all others. The executioner shrugged his shoulders and, compelled by his nervous tic, succeeded in displaying the most provocatively comical grimace that could ever be seen upon a human face. And while, despite our horror, we had great difficulty in suppressing our laughter, he declared peremptorily: “No, milady, they don't know how at all! In this matter, they are actual savages. Look—in India—let's consider India alone—what a vulgar, inartistic business! And how stupidly—yes, stupidly—they've wasted death!” He clasped his bloody hands as in prayer, lifted his eyes to heaven, and in a lugubrious voice which seemed to ring with tears of regret he went on to say: “When you think, milady,” he exclaimed, “of all the wonderful things they might have done down there... and which they haven't done... and which they'll never do! It's unpardonable!” “There, for instance,” Clara protested, “you don't + + +know what you're talking about.” “May the genii carry me off if I lie!” exclaimed the fat old fellow. And in a slower voice, with didactic gestures, he stated: “In torture, as in everything, the English are not artists; All the admirable qualities you wish, milady, but not that... no, no, no!” “Come now! they've made the whole world weep!” “Bad, milady... very bad,” corrected the executioner. “Art does not consist in killing multitudes... in slaughtering, massacring, and exterminating men in hordes. Really, it's too easy. Art, milady, consists in knowing how to kill, according to the rites of beauty, whose divine secret we Chinese alone possess. Know how to kill! Nothing is rarer, and everything depends on that. Know how to kill! That is to say, how to work the human body like a sculptor works his day or piece of ivory, and evoke the entire sum, every prodigy of suffering it conceals in the depths of its shadows and its mysteries. There! Science is required, variety, taste, imagination... genius, after all. But today, everything + + +is disappearing. The Occidental snobbery which is invading us, the gunboats, rapid−fire guns, long−range rifles, explosives... what else? Everything which makes death collective, administrative and bureaucratic—all the filth of your progress, in fact—is destroying, little by little, our beautiful traditions of the past. It is only here, in this garden, that they are conserved as well as can be... where we try at least to maintain them as well as possible. But what difficulties! what obstacles! what continual struggles—if you knew! Alas, I feel it won't last much longer. We have been conquered by mediocrity, and the bourgeois spirit is triumphing everywhere—” His face then possessed a singular expression of both melancholy and pride, while his gestures revealed profound lassitude. “And besides,” he said. “I who speak to you, milady—I'm certainly not just anybody. I can boast of having disinterestedly worked all my life to the glory of our great Empire. I have always been first in the competitive examinations in torture—and in many of them. I have invented—believe me—things actually sublime, wonderful tortures which, in another time + + +and under another dynasty, would have made my fortune and spelled immortality. Well, they scarcely pay any attention to me. I'm not understood. Let us say the word: they despise me. What can you expect? Today talent counts for nothing; it isn't given the slightest recognition. It's discouraging, I assure you! Poor China, once so artistic, so magnificently celebrated! Ah, I really fear it's ripe for conquest!” With a pessimistic and broken−hearted−gesture, he took Clara to witness to this decadence, and his grimaces were utterly untranslatable. “After all—look milady! Isn't it lamentable? I'm the man who invented the torture of the rat. May the genii devour my liver if it wasn't I! Ah, milady, an extraordinary torture, I swear. Originality, picturesqueness, psychology, the science of pain—it had everything in its favor. And the bargain, it was infinitely comical. It was inspired by that ancient Chinese gaiety, so neglected in our day. Ah, how it would have excited everyone's good spirits. What a resource for languishing conversations! Well, they've renounced it. Worse, they'd have nothing to do with it. And yet, the three trials we held before the judges + + +met with such a colossal success.” As we did not seem to pity him, and these recriminations of an old employee rather annoyed us, the executioner repeated, emphasizing the word: “Colossal... co−los−sal!” “What is this torture of the rat,” Clara asked, “and how does it happen that I don't know about it?” “A masterpiece, milady—a perfect masterpiece!” the fat man insisted in a resounding voice, and his flabby body settled more and more into the grass. “I heard you... and then?” “A masterpiece, in truth! And you see... you don't know about it... nobody knows anything about it. What a pity! How can you expect me not to be humiliated?” “Can you describe it to us?” “Can I! I absolutely can. I'm going to explain it to you, and you'll judge. Follow me carefully... “ And the fat man, sketching shapes in the air with precise gestures, spoke as follows: “You take a condemned man, charming lady, a condemned man, or anybody else—for it isn't necessary for the success of my torture that the + + +victim be condemned to anything at all—you take a man, as young and strong as possible, whose muscles are quite resistant; in virtue of this principle: the more strength, the more struggle and the more struggle, the more pain! Good. You undress him. Good. And when he is stark naked—yes, milady?—you make him kneel, his back bent, on the earth, where you fasten him with chains riveted to iron collars which bind his neck, his wrists, his calves and ankles. Good! I don't know whether I'm making myself understood? Then in a big pot, whose bottom is pierced with a little hole—a flowerpot, milady!—you place a very fat rat, whom it's wise to have deprived of nourishment for a couple of days, to excite its ferocity. And this pot, inhabited by this rat, you apply hermetically, like an enormous cupping−glass, to the back of the condemned by means of stout thongs attached to a leather girdle about the loins. Ah, hat Now the plot thickens!” He looked maliciously at us out of the corners of his lowered lids, to judge the effect his words were producing. “And then?” said Clara, simply. + + +“Then, milady, you introduce into the little hole into the pot—guess what!” “How should I know?” The good fellow rubbed his hands, smiled horribly, and then continued: “You introduce an iron rod, heated red−hot at the fire of a forge—a little portable forge which is there beside you. And when the iron rod is introduced, what happens? Ah, ha hat Imagine what must happen, milady—” “Oh, come on, you old gossip!” commanded my companion, and stamped angrily on the sandy path. “There, there!” said the prolix executioner. “A little patience, milady. And let us proceed methodically, if you please. Well, you introduce into the pot's hole, an iron rod, heated red−hot at the fire of a forge. The rat tries to escape the burning of the rod and its dazzling light. It goes mad, cuts capers, leaps and bounds, runs around the walls of the pot, crawls and gallops over the roan's flesh, which it first tickles and then tears with its nails, and bites with its sharp teeth, seeking an exit through the torn and bleeding skin. But there is no exit. During the first + + +frenzied moments, the rat can find none. And the iron rod, handled cleverly and slowly, still draws near the rat, threatens it, scorches its fur. What do you think of this for a beginning?” He caught his breath for a few seconds, then staidly, authoritatively, he instructed us: “It's great merit lies in the fact that you must know how to prolong this initial operation as much as possible, for the laws of physiology teach us that there is nothing more horrible to the human flesh than the combination of tickling and biting. It may even happen that the victim goes mad from it. He howls and struggles; his body, remaining free between the iron collars, palpitates, heaves and contorts, shaken by agonizing shudders. But his limbs are firmly held by the chains, and the pot, by the thongs. And the movements of the condemned man only augment the rat's fury, to which the intoxication of blood is often added. It's sublime, milady!” “And then?” said Clara, grown slightly pale, in an abrupt, unsteady voice. The executioner clacked his tongue, and + + +continued: “Finally—for I see you're anxious to know the climax of this wonderful and jolly story; finally threatened by the glowing rod and thanks to the excitation of a few well−chosen burns, the rat ends by finding an exit, milady. Ah, ha ha!” “How horrible!” exclaimed Clara. “Ah, you see... I'm proud of the interest you take in my torture. But wait! The rat penetrates the man's body, widening with claws and teeth the opening he madly digs, as in the earth. And he croaks, stifled, at the same time that the victim who, after a half−hour of ineffable, incomparable torture, ends by succumbing to a hemorrhage—when it isn't from too much suffering or even the congestion caused by a frightful insanity. In all cases, milady, and whatever the final cause of this death—you can be sure it's extremely beautiful!” Satisfied, and with an air of triumphant pride, he concluded: “Isn't it extremely beautiful, milady? Isn't it actually a prodigious invention? an admirable masterpiece, classic after a fashion, and whose + + +equivalent you may vainly seek in the past? I would not like to be lacking in modesty, milady, but agree that the demons who used to haunt the forests of Yunnam never conceived a like miracle. Well, the judges would have nothing to do with it! There I brought them, you'll admit, something infinitely glorious, something unique in its fashion, capable of inspiring our greatest artists. They didn't want it... they want nothing... nothing at all! The return to the classic tradition terrifies them. Without also counting all sorts of moral obstacles, painful to relate... intrigue, extortion, underhand rivalry, scorn of equity, horror of the beautiful—and what not? you'd have thought, at least, I'm sure, that for such a service they'd have made me a mandarin. Indeed! Nothing, milady—I received nothing! There are the symptoms characteristic of our downfall. Ah, we are a lost people, a dead people! Let the Japanese come; we can no longer resist them. Farewell China!” He was silent. The sun, sinking in the west, the shadow of the gallows then shifted with the sun, and lay stretched across the grass. The lawns became a brighter green; a sort of pink and gold mist rose from + + +the watered bushes, and the flowers shone more brilliantly, like little variegated stars in the firmament of foliage. A yellow bird carrying a long cotton−twig in its beak, repaired its nest in the depths of the leafage which covered the shaft of the torture column at whose foot the executioner was seated. Now he was dreaming, with a more placid countenance and less violent grimaces, in which cruelty was replaced by melancholy. “Just like the flowers,” he murmured, after a silence. A black cat which had emerged from the bushes, its back arched and its tail hanging, came and rubbed itself against him, purring. He caressed it gently. Then, having noticed a scarabee, the cat stretched out behind a tuft of grass and, its ears erect, its eyes glowing, started to follow the capricious flight of the insect in the air. The executioner, whose patriotic lamentations had been interrupted by the cat, shook his head and continued: “Just like the flowers! We have also lost the sense of flowers, for one thing follows another. We no longer know what flowers are. Would you believe that they are sending us some from Europe—we + + +who possess the most varied and extraordinary flora on the globe. What aren't they sending us today? Helmets, bicycles, furniture, coffee−mills, wine and flowers! And if you knew the sad stupidities, the sentimental nonsense and decadent follies our poets utter on the subject of flowers. It's frightful! There are some who assert they are perverse! Flowers perverse! In fact, they no longer know what to write. Have you ever heard such monstrous nonsense, milady? Why, flowers are violent, cruel, terrible and splendid... like love!” He picked a ranunculus which gently swayed its golden head above the grass beside him, and with infinite delicacy, slowly and amorously, he turned it between his fat red fingers, from which the dried blood scaled off in places: “Isn't it adorable?” he repeated, looking at it. “It's so little, so fragile, and besides, it's all of nature; all the beauty and power of nature. It contains the world. A puny and relentless organism which goes straight to the goal of its desire! Ah, milady, flowers do not indulge in sentiment. They indulge in passion, nothing but passion. And they make love all the time, + + +and in every fashion. They think of nothing else; and how right they are! Perverse? Because they obey the only law of life; because they are satisfied with the only need of life, which is love? But consider, milady, the flower is only a reproductive organ. Is there anything healthier, stronger, or more beautiful than that? These marvelous petals, these silks, these velvets... these soft, supple, and caressing materials are the curtains of the alcove, the draperies of the bridal chamber, the perfumed bed where they unite, where they pass their ephemeral and immortal life, swooning with love. What an admirable example for us!” He spread the petals of the flower, counted the stamens laden with pollen, and he spoke again, his eyes swimming in a comical ecstasy: “See, milady; one, two, five, ten, twenty. See how they quiver! Look! Sometimes twenty males are required for the delight of a single female! He! he! he! Sometimes it's the opposite.” One by one he tore off the petals of the flower: “And when they are gorged with love, then the curtains of the bed are torn away, the draperies of + + +the chamber wither and fall; and the flowers die, because they know well they have nothing more to do. They die, to be reborn later, and once again, to love!” Throwing the stripped peduncle away, he exclaimed: “Make love, milady... make love... like the flowers!” Then abruptly he took up his instrument−case, got up, his queue awry, and saluting us, went away across the lawn, treading with his heavy, swaying body upon the grass blossoming with squill, doronicum and narcissus. For some moments Clara followed him with her eyes, and as we started to walk towards the bell: “Isn't he funny! What a roly−poly!” she said. “He's so good natured.” I stupidly exclaimed in my horror: “How can you say such a thing, my dear Clara? Why, he's a monster! It's even frightful to think such a monster exists among men, somewhere in the world! I feel that from now on I'll always have the nightmare of that horrible face before me, and the horror of that conversation. You hurt me very much, I assure you.” Clara replied quickly: + + +“And you hurt me too. Why do you pretend the roly−poly is a monster? You don't know anything about it. He loves his art, that's all; like a sculptor loves sculpture, and like a musician loves music. And he talks about it marvelously! It's curious and aggravating that you refuse to get it into your head we are in China, and not, thank God, in Hyde Park or the Bodiniere, among all those dirty bourgeois you adore! As far as you're concerned, the customs of all countries should be identical—and what customs! A lovely idea! Don't you realize it would mean dying of monotony, and the end of travel, my dear!” Then suddenly, in a more decided tone of reproach: “Ah, really, you're not at all nice. Your egoism never relaxes for a second, not even when I request the slightest pleasure of you. It's impossible to even enjoy oneself a little with you; you're never happy with anything. Without counting the fact that thanks to you, we've probably missed the best!” She sighed sadly: “Here's another day lost! I have no luck.” I tried to justify myself and calm her: “No... no,” insisted Clara, “it's very bad. You're + + +not a man. Even when Annie was alive, it was the same thing. You spoiled all our pleasure—fainting like a little boarding−school girl or a pregnant woman. People like you stay at home. God, how stupid. We go out gaily, happily, to have a good−time, see sublime sights, be thrilled by extraordinary sensations... and then suddenly you're sad, and it's all over! No, no! It's stupid, stupid... it's too stupid!” She hung more heavily on my arm, and she pouted—a pout of annoyance and affection—so exquisite I felt a thrill of desire run through my veins. “And I who do everything you want, like a poor puppy,” she moaned. Then: “I'm sure you think me wicked, because I enjoy things that make you grow pale and tremble. You think me wicked and heartless, don't you?” Without waiting for a reply, she confessed: “But I grow pale too, and I also tremble. Otherwise I wouldn't enjoy myself. Well, do you think me wicked?” “No, dear Clara, you are not wicked... you are—” She quickly interrupted me, offered her lips to me: “I'm not wicked. I don't want you to think me + + +wicked. I'm a nice little woman... curious, like all women. And you, you're only an old hen! I don't love you any more. Kiss your mama, darling. Kiss hard... harder... harder. No, I don't love you any more—like milksop. Yes, by God, that's it... you're only a darling little insignificant milksop.” Gay, yet serious, smiling, but her forehead barred by the dark fold of shadow she possessed in anger as well as passion, she added: “Say I'm only a woman... a very little woman... a woman as fragile as a flower... as delicate and frail as a bamboo−stalk... and that of the two of us, I'm the man... and that I'm worth ten men like you!” And the desire her flesh provoked in me was augmented by an immense pity for her mad, lost soul. Once more, with a slight hiss of scorn, she said that phrase, which came so often to her lips: “Men! They don't know what love is, nor what death is, which is much more beautiful than love. They don't know anything, and they're always sad, and weep! And faint for no reason, Over nothings! Phht! phht! phht!” Changing her line of thought, like a beetle shifting from one flower to the next, she + + +suddenly asked: “Is it true what that roly−poly just told us?” “What, dear Clara? And ,what difference does he make to you?” “Just now the roly−poly said that among the flowers, twenty males were sometimes required for the delight of a single female. Is it true?” “Certainly!” “Really true? Really... really true?” “Obviously.” “The roly−poly wasn't making fun of us? Are you sure?” “You're funny! Why do you ask that? Why do you look at me with such strange eyes? Of course it's true.” “Ah!” She remained pensive, her lids closed for a moment. Her breath came hurriedly, her breast almost panted. Then, very low, she murmured, resting her head against my chest: “I'd like to be a flower. I'd like... I'd like to be—everything!” “Clara!” I begged, “my little Clara.” I held her fast + + +in my arms. I cradled her in my arms. “Wouldn't you? You wouldn't like to? Oh—you'd rather stay a little milksop all your life! Pugh, how naughty!” After a short silence, during which we even heard the red sand of the alley crunch beneath our heavy steps, she continued, in a singing voice: “And I'd also like... when I am dead... I'd like to have very strong perfumes put in my coffin... thalictrum blossoms... and images of sin... beautiful, exciting, naked images, like those that decorate the mats in my room. Or better, I'd like to be buried without a dress or a shroud, in the crypts of the temple of Elephanta, amid all those strange stone bacchantes, who caress and tear each other so furiously. Ah, my darling! I'd like... I'd like to be dead already!” And abruptly: “When you're dead, do your feet touch the wood of the coffin?” “Clara!” I implored. “Why are you always talking of death? And still you don't want me to be sad! I beg you, don't drive me completely mad. Give up these sordid ideas that torment me so and let's go home. For pity's sake, dear Clara, let's go home.” + + +She did not listen to my plea, and continued in a musical tone which I couldn't tell... no, truthfully, I could not tell whether it expressed emotion or irony, convulsive sobs or hysterical laughter. “If you are with me when I die... darling... listen to me! Please put... yes, that's the thing... please put a pretty little yellow silk cushion between my poor little feet and the wood of the casket. And then, please kill my handsome Laos hound... and stretch him out, still bleeding, beside me... like he himself is accustomed to stretch out, you know, with one paw on my thigh and another on my breast. And then... for a long, long time, please kiss me darling, on my teeth... and my hair. And tell me things... pretty things... things that soothe and excite... things like when you love me. Won't you, my darling? Promise me? Come now, don't make such a funereal face. It isn't dying that's sad; it's living when you're not happy. Swear! Swear that you promise me!” “Clara! Clara! I beg you! Be quiet!” I was undoubtedly at the end of my strength. A flood of tears gushed from my eyes. I wouldn't have been able to tell the reason for these tears, which + + +were not tears of distress, and which, to the contrary, gave me relief and relaxation. And Clara was deceived in attributing them to herself. It wasn't for her I was weeping, nor for her sin, nor for the pity which her poor, sick soul inspired in me, nor for the image of her death she had just evoked. It was for myself I was weeping, perhaps, for my presence in this garden, for this cursed love in which I felt that everything which then remained to me every generous impulse, every lost desire, and every noble ambition was profaned by the impure breath of these kisses, of which I was ashamed and for which I was also thirsty. Well, no! Why should I lie to myself? physical tears... tears of weakness, fatigue and fever, tears of enervation before sights too cruel for my debilitated senses, before odors too strong for my sense of smell, before the continual oscillation of my carnal desires from impotence to frenzy... the tears of a woman... tears for nothing at all! Certain that it was because of her, because of her dead... because of her stretched out in her coffin I was weeping, and happy in her power over me, Clara became deliciously cajoling: + + +“Poor little pet!” she sighed. “You're trying! Well then, say the roly−poly was good−natured. Say it to please me and I'll be quiet, and never talk of death again... never again. Come, right now, say it, little pig.” In a cowardly fashion, but also anxious to be finished at last with all these macabre ideas, I did what she asked. With clamorous joy, she fell on my neck, kissed me on the lips, and drying my eyes, exclaimed: “Ah, you're nice! You're a nice baby! A darling little baby, my darling! And I'm a vile woman, a wicked little woman who's always teasing you and making you cry. Well then, the roly−poly is a monster... I detest him. And I don't want you to kill my beautiful Laos hound. And I don't want to die. And I adore you, ah! And then... and then... all this is just to make you laugh, you understand. Don't cry any more, ah, don't cry any more! Now smile! Smile with your lovely eyes, with your mouth which can say such tender things... your mouth, your mouth! And let's walk faster. I love so much to walk very fast, on your arm!” + + +And head to head we walked, her parasol above us fluttering lightly, brilliantly, and madly, like an enormous butterfly. + + +PART 7 + +We were approaching the bell. On the right and left there were immense red and purple flowers and blood−colored peonies, and in the shade, under enormous parasol−shaped leaves, petasites and anthuriums like bleeding tissues seemed ironically to greet us on the way, and point out the path of torture to us. There were other flowers also, flowers of butchery and massacre, tiger−flowers with their gaping mutilated throats, diclytras and their garlands of little red hearts, and fierce labiates with their firm and fleshy pulp the tint of mucus; they were veritable human lips—Clara's lips crying from the tops of their tender stalks: “Come, my dears, come quickly. Where you are going there is still more pain, more torture, more blood flowing and dripping on the earth, more contorted and torn bodies breathing their last on iron tables... more ragged flesh swaying on the gallows−rope, more horror and more hell. Come, my loves, come, lip to lip and hand in hand. And look between the foliage and the lattice−work, look at the + + +infernal diorama unfolding, and the diabolic festival of death!” Clara was silent, shivering, her teeth clenched, her eyes more glowing and cruel. She was silent and walked, listening to these flower−voices in which she recognized her own, that voice of frightful days and homicidal nights, the voice of cruelty and lust, and also pain, which seemed to come not only from the depths of the earth and the abyss of death, but at the same time from the deeper and blacker depths of her own soul. A strident noise like the creaking of a pulley filled the air. Then there was another sound, very sweet, very pure, like the resonance of a crystal cup which a moth had struck in its evening flight. Then we entered a wide, curving alley, bordered on each side by high latticework which cast shadows riddled with little flecks of light upon the sand. Clara looked eagerly between the lattice and the foliage. And despite myself, despite my sincere determination to henceforth close my eyes to the damnable spectacle, drawn by the strange magnet of horror, overwhelmed by the invincible vertigo of abominable + + +sights, I too looked between the lattice and the foliage. And this is what we saw: On the plateau of a broad, low hillock, on which the alley ended in a continuous and scarcely perceptible rise, there was a round space, artistically laid out like an arboretum, by skilful gardeners. Enormous, squat, of a dull bronze lugubriously streaked with red, the bell in the center of this space was hung by block and tackle to the top beam of a sort of black wood guillotine whose pillars were ornamented with gilded inscriptions and terrifying masks. Four men, stripped to the waist, their muscles taut and their skin so distended that they were no more than a mass of shapeless lumps, pulled on the rope of the tackle, and their combined and rhythmic efforts could scarcely lift or budge the heavy mass of metal, which at each pull gave off an almost inaudible sound, that sweet, pure, plaintive sound we had just heard, and whose vibrations were lost and died away among the flowers. The clapper, a heavy iron pestle, was then gently oscillating, but no longer touched the sonorous walls of the bell, tired of having sounded a poor devil's death−knell for + + +so long a time. Under the cupola of the bell, two other men, their torsos rippling with sweat, their loins bare, and girdled with brown wool loin−cloths, were bending over something that could not be seen. Their chests with their protruding ribs and their lean flanks heaved like those of foundered horses. All this could be vaguely seen, a little confused, a little jumbled, broken suddenly by the intervention of a thousand things, and then recomposed in the gaps of the foliage and the interstices in the lattice. “We must hurry... we must hurry!” exclaimed Clara who, in order to walk faster, had closed her parasol and lifted her dress at the hips, with a bold gesture. 'The alley still curved, now flooded with sunlight, now shady, and it changed in appearance every moment, mingling with each floral beauty a more inexorable horror. “Look carefully, my darling,” said Clara. “Look all around. Here we are in the most beautiful and interesting section of the garden. Look! those flowers! oh, those flowers!” She indicated the bizarre plants which grew in a plot of earth where water could be seen gushing from all sides. I approached. + + +On high stalks, flecked with black and scaly like snake−skins, there were enormous spathes, sort of bell−shaped trumpets the deep violet of putrefaction on the inside, and the greenish yellow of decomposition on the outer, which were like the split thoraxes of dead beasts. From the bottom of these trumpets there issued long sanguinolent spadices, assuming the form of monstrous phalluses. Attracted by the cadaverous odor these horrible plants gave off, flies hovered about in compact swarms and were swallowed by the spathes, which were lined from top to bottom with contractile, silky threads that enlaced them and held them prisoner more surely than a spider's web. And along the stalks, finger−like leaves contracted and twisted like the hands of tortured men. “You see, my darling,” instructed Clara, “these flowers are not the creation of any sickly soul, nor of a raving genius... they are natural. Didn't I tell you nature loved death!” “Nature also creates monsters!” “Monsters, monsters! But there are no monsters! What you call 'monsters' are superior forms, or forms + + +simply beyond your understanding. Aren't the gods monsters? Isn't a man of genius a monster, like a tiger or a spider, like all individuals who live beyond social lies, in the dazzling and divine immorality of things? Why, I too then—am a monster!” We were then walking, between bamboo palisades, along which there ran honeysuckle, odorous jasmine, trumpet−flowers, arborescent mallow, and climbing hibiscus not yet in bloom. Moonseed embraced a stone column with its innumerable lianas. On the top of the column grimaced the face of a hideous divinity whose ears spread like the wings of a bat, and whose hair ended in flaming horns, incarvillea, hemerocallis, morrea, and larkspur with leafless stems concealed its base with their little pink bells, their scarlet thyrses, their golden calyxes and purple stars. Covered with ulcers and eaten by lice, a mendicant bonze who seemed to be the guardian of this structure, and who was training Touranian mongooses to make perilous leaps, insulted us as soon as we appeared. “Dogs! dogs! dogs!” We had to throw a few pieces of change to this + + +fanatic, whose invective surpassed all the outrageous obscenities which the indignation of the filthiest mind could conceive. “I know him!” said Clara. “He's like all priests of all religions; he wants to frighten us into giving him a little money, but he's not a bad devil!” From place to place in the recesses of the palisade which concealed verdant halls and beds of flowers, there were wooden benches equipped with chains and bronze collars, iron tables in the shapes of crosses,. blocks, gridirons, gibbets, automatic quartering machines, beds studded with cutting blades and bristling with iron spikes, stationary pillories, wooden horses, wheels, kettles and tanks suspended over extinguished fires—all the apparatus of sacrifice and torture, covered with blood, here dried and blackish, there sticky and red. Puddles of blood filled the hollow parts; long gobs of coagulated blood hung from disjointed machinery. Around these apparatus, the soil actually was wet with blood. Blood still starred the whiteness of the jasmine, marbled the pink coral of the honeysuckle and the mauve passion−flowers, and, bits of human + + +flesh which had flown under the whips and leather thongs, were stuck here and there to the edges of the petals and leaves. Since I grew faint and grumbled at the sight of these puddles, which expanded and reached the middle of the path, Clara encouraged me in a gentle voice: “This is nothing, yet, my darling... come along!” But it was difficult to proceed. Plants and trees, atmosphere and, earth were alive with flies, intoxicated insects, fierce and quarrelsome beetles, gorged mosquitoes. Around us all the fauna of the cadaver was hatching in myriads in the sun. Filthy maggots swarmed in the red pools, and dropped from the branches in soft clusters. The sand seemed to breathe and walk, lifted by the movement and pullulation of vermicular life. Deafened and blinded, we were halted at every step by these buzzing, multiplying swarms, and I was afraid for Clara—afraid of their deadly stings. And at times we had the horrible impression that our feet were sinking into the soaking earth, as though it had rained blood! “This is nothing yet,” repeated Clara, “come along with me!” + + +And here, to complete the drama, human faces appeared: squads of workmen who, with a nonchalant step, were coming to clean and repair the instruments of torture, for the hour of execution in the garden was over. They looked at us, doubtless astonished to encounter two people still standing at that time and in that place, two beings still alive, who still had their heads, their legs and arms. Further on, crouching on the earth in the posture of a grotesque china figure, we saw a big−bellied and good−natured potter who was varnishing freshly−baked flower−pots; near him, a weaver with indolent and exacting fingers was plaiting ingenious plant−shelters of supple reeds and rice−straws. A gardener was sharpening his grafting−tool on a grindstone, humming popular airs while an aged woman, chewing a betel−leaf and swaying her head in time, was placidly scouring a sort of iron maw whose sharp teeth still retained on their points some filthy human scraps. We also saw some children killing rats with sticks, and filling baskets with them. And along the palisades, hungry and fierce and dragging the imperial splendor of their tails in the + + +bloody mud, peacocks—troupes of peacocks, pecked at the blood which had spurted into the hearts of the flowers, and clucking fiercely, snapped up the scraps of flesh stuck to the foliage. The oppressive odor of the slaughter−house which persisted above all the other odors and dominated them, turned our stomachs and made us violently nauseous. Clara herself, fairy of the charnel−house, angel of decomposition and rot, not so well sustained by her nerves, perhaps, had grown slightly pale. Sweat beaded her temples. I saw her eyes roll back and her legs grow weak. “I'm cold!” she said. She gave me a glance of actual distress. Her nostrils, always distended like sails before the winds of death, had closed. I thought she was going to faint. “Clara!” I begged. “You see very well it's impossible. You see there's a degree of horror which even you yourself cannot exceed.” I stretched out my arms to her, but she refused them, and stiffening herself against sickness with all the indomitable energy of her frail organs: “Are you crazy?” she said. “Come, my darling... + + +faster... let's walk faster.” However, she took out her flask, and smelled its salts. “It's you who are all pale, and you walk like a drunken man. I'm not ill... I feel fine... and I'd like to sing.” She began to sing: Her clothes are summer gardens. And temples... But she had overestimated her strength, and her voice dried up in her throat. I thought this a good occasion to lead her back, persuade her, terrify her, perhaps. Vigorously, I attempted to draw her to me. “Clara! my little Clara! You must not defy your strength; you must not defy your heart. Let's go home, I beg you!” But she protested: “No... no... leave me alone... say nothing... it's nothing. I'm happy!” And quickly, she slipped out of my embrace. “You see! There isn't even any blood on my shoes.” Then, annoyed: “God, these flies are overwhelming! Why are there so many flies here? And these horrid peacocks—why don't they make them shut up?” I tried to chase them away; some persisted in + + +their bloody gleaning; others flew heavily off and, uttering more strident cries, perched not far from us on the top of the palisade and in the trees, from which their trains hung down like floods of material embroidered with dazzling jewels. “Filthy beasts!” said Clara. Thanks to the salts whose cordial odors she had breathed deeply, thanks especially to her implacable will not to faint, her face had already recovered its rosy tint, and her limbs their supple and vigorous movement. Then, in a firmer voice, she sang: Her clothes are summer gardens. And temples on festival−days. Her firm and swelling breasts, Gleam like a pair of golden vases, Filled with intoxicating liquors and perfumes. I have three mistresses... After a moment of silence, she started to sing in a stronger voice, which drowned out the buzzing of the insects: The hair of the third is plaited, And rolled about her head. And never has known the sweetness of + + +perfumed oils. That face which mirrors passion is deformed, And her body is like a pig's... And she always scolds and complains. Her breasts and belly exhale a fishy odor And her bed is more repugnant than a lapwing's nest. And she is the one I love. And I love her because there is something more mysteriously attractive than beauty: divine corruption. Corruption in which the eternal heat of life resides. Corruption in which the eternal renewal of metamorphoses unfolds. I have three mistresses. While she was singing, while her voice was floating among the horrors of the garden, a cloud arose, very high, very far away. In the immensity of the sky, it was like a little pink bark, a tiny little bark with silken sails which grew as it progressed in its gentle glide. And when she had finished singing: “Oh, the little cloud!” exclaimed Clara, suddenly joyful again. “Look how pretty it is, all pink against + + +the azure! Don't you know it? Have you never seen it? Why,. it's a very mysterious little cloud... and perhaps even because it's not a little cloud at all. It appears every day at the same time, from God knows where. And it's always alone, and always pink. It glides and glides and glides. Then it gets thinner, unravels, scatters, dissipates and melts into the firmament. And it's gone! And no one knows where it goes, any more than where it comes from! There are some very learned astronomers here who believe it's a genie. But I believe it's a wandering soul... a poor little bewildered soul, like mine. And speaking to herself, she added:” “What if it's poor Annie's soul?” For several minutes she contemplated the unknown cloud which was already growing pale, and little by little, fading away. “There! there it's melting... melting. It's all over. No more little cloud! It's gone.” She remained silent and fascinated, her eyes lost in the sky. A light breeze had arisen, making a gentle shiver run through the trees, and the sun was less fierce and less overwhelming, its light growing + + +magnificently copper towards the west and bathing the east in pearl−grey tones of infinite gradation. And the shadows of the kiosks and the great trees and the stone Buddhas lay slenderer, less defined, and altogether blue upon the lawns. + + +PART 8 + +We were near the bell. Very tall plum trees with twin blossoms, crowded together, intercepted our view of it. We discerned it from little shadows between the leaves and flowers, little decorative flowers, round and white like daisies. The peacocks had followed us for some distance, brazen and wary at the same time, stretching their necks and trailing the splendid trains of their oscillated tails across the red sand. There were also some all white, their breasts speckled with bloody spots, and their cruel heads crowned with a broad fan−shaped crest, each feather of which, slender and stiff, bore at its tip what looked like a trembling droplet of pink crystal. Iron tables, racks already set up, and sinister gear grew more numerous. In the shadow of a great tamarisk, we perceived a sort of rococo armchair. Its arms were made alternately of a saw and a steel blade, and its back and seat of iron spikes. A scrap of flesh hung from one of these spikes. Lightly, adroitly, Clara lifted it with the tip of her parasol and + + +tossed it to the hungry peacocks who hurled themselves upon it, striking out fiercely with their beaks. For several moments there was a dazzling scramble, a clash of gems whose marvelous spectacle I loitered to admire despite my disgust. Perched in the neighboring trees, some lophophores, sacred pheasants, and great fighting cocks from the Malay Peninsula with damascene breasts, watched the conflict of the peacocks and cunningly awaited feeding−time. Suddenly a wide gap opened in the wall of plum trees, a sort of light and flowery arch, and the bell was there before us—enormous and terrible before us. Its heavy beams, varnished black and decorated with gold inscriptions and red masks, seemed like the profile of a temple, and gleamed strangely in the sunlight. All around, the earth was covered with a layer of sand which muffled sound, and was surrounded by a wall of flowering plum trees blossoming with those heavy flowers which cover the entire length of their trunks with white bouquets. In the middle of this red and white circle, the bell was sinister to behold. It was somewhat like an abyss in + + +the air, a hanging void which seemed to rise from earth to sky, and whose bottom, filled with silent shadows, could not be seen. At that moment we understood what the two men were bending over—those men whose emaciated torsos and loins girdled with brown wool had appeared to us under the dome of the bell the moment we entered that part of the garden. They were bending over a corpse and unwrapping the ropes and leather thongs with which it had been firmly trussed. The corpse, the color of ochre clay, was entirely naked, and lay with its face to the ground. It was frightfully convulsed, the muscles bulging, its entire flesh violently disfigured, sunken here and bloated there, as by a tumor. You could see that the tortured man had struggled for a long time, vainly attempting to break his bonds, and that with the desperate and continuous effort both ropes and leather thongs had little by little sunk into his flesh, where they now made swellings of brown blood, coagulated pus, and greenish tissue. With one foot on the corpse, their backs arched, their arms taut as cables, the men were hauling on the bonds + + +which they could not pull away without tearing out strips of flesh. And a rhythmic grunt issued from their throats, which ended shortly in a raucous whistle. We approached. The peacocks had halted. Augmented by new flocks, they now filled the circular alley and the flowered opening, which they dared not cross. Behind us, we heard their murmuring and subdued shuffling. In fact, it was like a crowd which had come running to the threshold of a temple, a dense, eager, impatient, smothering, and respectful crowd, their necks stretched, their eyes round; haggard and loquacious, watching the performance of a mystery they could not understand. We came still nearer. “You see, my dear,” said Clara, “how curious and unique it all is... and what magnificence! In what other country could you find a like spectacle? A torture−chamber decked out as for a ball; and this dazzling crowd of peacocks, acting as audience, atmosphere, rabble, and setting for the festival! Wouldn't you think we were transported beyond life, amid the imagery and poetry of the very old legends? Aren't you really astounded? It seems to + + +me I'm always living in a dream here!” Pheasants with radiant plumage and long jeweled necks soared and crossed above us. From place to place, several dared to perch on the tips of flowering stalks. Clara, who was following all the chance forms and colors of these fantastic flights, continued after a few minutes of charmed silence: “Isn't it wonderful, my love, how the Chinese, so scorned by those who do not know them, are actually astounding people. No other race knows how to tame and domesticate nature with such painstaking skill. What unique artists! and what poets! See how that cadaver on the red sand takes on the tints of the old idols. Look at it carefully, for it's extraordinary, You'd think the vibrations of the bell, ringing wildly, had penetrated that body like some hard, compressing substance... that they'd forced the muscles out, made the veins burst, and twisted and ground the bones. A simple sound, so sweet to the ear, so deliciously musical, so touching to the mind, becoming something a thousand times more terrible and painful than all the old roly−poly's complicated instruments! Don't you think it's maddening? No, but + + +conceive of this prodigious fact—that the very thing that can make amorous virgins walking in the country in the evening cry with ecstasy and divine melancholy, can also make men roar with pain, and kill a miserable human carcass under the most ineffable agony. I say it's genius! Ah, what a wonderful torture!... and so discreet, for it takes place in the shadows, and its horror, when you come to think of it, could not be equaled by any other. Besides, like the torture of the caress, it's very rare today, and you're lucky to have seen it on your first visit to the garden. They tell me the Chinese brought it from Korea, where it's very old, and where, it seems, it's still frequently employed. We'll go to Korea, if you like. The Koreans are inimitably fierce tortures—and they manufacture the most beautiful vases in the world, thick white vases, quite unique, which seem to have been dipped... ah, if you knew!... in baths of seminal fluid!” Then, returning to the corpse: “I'd like to know who this man was! For here they never prescribe the torture of the bell, except for high−class criminals: conspiring princes and high + + +officials who no longer please the Emperor. It's an aristocratic and almost glorious torture.” She shook my arm: “You don't seem to be carried away by what I'm telling you. And you're not even listening to me! Just think—this bell, ringing and ringing. It's so sweet! When you bear it from a distance, it suggests some mystic sacrament, some joyous mass... baptisms... marriages. And it's the most terrifying of all deaths! I think it's wonderful. And you?” And as I did not answer: “Yes... yes,” she insisted. “Say it's wonderful! I want you to, I want you to! Be nice.” Faced with my persistent silence, she made a little angry movement. “How disagreeable you are!” she said. “You'll never be nice to me! What in the world can cheer you up? Ah, I don't want to love you any more. I have no more desire for you. Tonight you'll sleep alone, in the kiosk. I'll go and find my little Peach Blossom, who's so much nicer than you, and knows more about love than men.” I tried to stammer out something. + + +“No... no... never mind! It's over! I don't want to talk to you any more. And I'm sorry I didn't bring Peach Blossom. You're unbearable... and you make me sad. You make me stupid. It's odious! Here's a whole day wasted, which I'd planned to spend so thrillingly with you.” Her chatter and her voice irritated me. For some minutes I no longer noticed her beauty. Her eyes, her lips, her neck, her heavy golden hair, and the very ardor of her desire, and the very lustfulness of her sin, everything about her then seemed hideous to me. And from her gaping corsage, from the rosy nudity of her breast, where so often I had breathed, drunk, and feasted on the intoxication of such heady perfume, there arose an exhalation of putrefied flesh, that little mass of putrefied flesh which was her soul. Several times I had been tempted to interrupt her with a violent outburst... shut her mouth with my fists... wring her neck. I felt so savage a hatred rising in me against this woman, that seizing her arm roughly, I cried out in an unrestrained voice: “Shut up! Oh, shut up! Don't ever talk to me again—never! For I'd like to kill you, you devil! I + + +ought to kill you, and then throw you to the dogs, you beast!” In spite of my excitement, I was afraid of my own words. But to make them irrevocable after all, I repeated them, bruising her arm with my frantic hands: “Beast! beast! beast!” Clara made not the slightest movement to draw back, not even a flutter of the lids. She thrust out her throat and offered her breast. Her face lit up with an unknown and resplendent joy. Simply, slowly, with infinite sweetness, she said: “Well, kill me darling! I'd love to be killed by you, dear little darling!” That was the only flash of rebellion in the long and painful passivity of my submission. It died out as swiftly as it had flared up. Ashamed of the insultingly vile epithet I had just uttered, I released Clara's arm, and all the anger due to my nervous excitation suddenly melted in a great dejection. “Ah, you see,” said Clara, who did not care to take further advantage of my pitiful defeat and her too easy triumph, “you haven't even the courage for that, and it would be beautiful. Poor baby!” And as though nothing had happened between us, she + + +began to follow the frightful drama of the bell again, with passionate interest. During this short scene the two men had been resting. They seemed exhausted. Emaciated, panting, their ribs bulging beneath their skin; their thighs fleshless, they no longer seemed human. The sweat flowed, as from a spout, from the points of their mustaches, and their sides heaved like those of beasts hard pressed by dogs. But a guard suddenly appeared, whip in hand. He yelled, and with blow after blow, lashed the bony loins of the two wretches, who set to work again, howling. Frightened by the cracking of the whip, the peacocks screamed and flapped their wings. They fled in tumult, a whirling mass in panic−stricken disorder. Then, reassured little by little, they came back one by one, couple by couple, group by group, to take their places under the floral arch, swelling the splendor of their throats still more, and darting even fiercer glances upon the scene of death. The pheasants, red, yellow, blue and green, still wheeling over the white circle, embroidered the luminous ceiling of the sky with dazzling silks and soft + + +changing patterns. Clara called the guard, and engaged him in a brief conversation in Chinese which she related to me as fast as he replied. “These are the poor devils who rang the bell. Forty−two hours without a drink, without a single rest! Can you imagine it! And how is it they aren't dead too? I know very well the Chinese aren't made like us, and that in fatigue and physical pain they have extraordinary endurance. I too wanted to know how long a Chinese could work without taking nourishment. Twelve days, darling... they only drop at the end of the twelfth day! It's unbelievable! It's true that the work I imposed on him was nothing like this. I had him plow the earth, in the sun.” She'd forgotten my insults and her voice was amorous and caressing again, like when she told me love−stories. She continued: “For you don't question, darling, the violent, continuous, and superhuman effort it takes to set in action and work the clapper of the bell, do you? Even many of the strongest succumb at it. A ruptured artery... a lesion of the loins... and it's all over! They + + +fall dead suddenly, on the bell! And those who don't die of it in their tracks get diseases from which they never recover. Look how swollen and bloody their hands are from the friction of the rope! Besides, it seems that these are convicts, too. They die in killing, and the two tortures balance each other, see! All the same, you must be kind to these wretches... when the guard goes away, won't you give them a few taels?” And returning to the corpse: “Ah, you know... I know him now. He was a big city banker... was very rich and stole from everyone. But he wasn't sentenced to the torture of the bell for that. The guard doesn't know exactly why. They say he negotiated treacherously with the Japanese. They have to give some reason.” Scarcely had she uttered these words, than we heard some hollow moans, like stifled sobbing. They came from directly in front of us, from behind the white wall along which petals were falling off and slowly dropping onto the red sands. Tears and flowers falling! “It's his family,” Clara explained. “It's there according to the custom, waiting for them to deliver + + +the body of the tortured man.” At that moment the two exhausted men who, by a miracle of will, were still standing up, were turning the body over. Simultaneously, Clara and I uttered a single cry. And clasped to me, tearing my shoulder with her nails: “Oh, darling! darling! darling!” she cried; an exclamation by which she always expressed the intensity of her emotion at the approach of horror, as well as love. And we looked at the cadaver, and with the same horrified motion stretched our necks toward the cadaver, and we could not tear our eyes away from the cadaver. ' On its convulsed face, on which all the contracted muscles were outlined, frightful grimaces and hideous angles stood out, the twisted mouth revealing the teeth and gums, mimicked the frightful laugh of a madman, a laugh which death had stiffened, fixed and, so to say, modeled into all the folds of the skin. The two staring eyes darted a sightless glance at us, but their expression of the most terrifying insanity remained, and so prodigiously sneering and so fitfully mad was this stare, that never in the cells of an asylum had I been + + +destined to see its like in the eyes of a living man. Observing all these muscular displacements in the corpse, all these deviations of the tendons, all these projections of the bones, and on the face, this grin and this dementia of the eyes surviving death, I understood how much more horrible than any other torture must be the agony of a man lying forty−two hours in his bonds under the bell. Neither the dismembering knife, nor the red, burning iron, nor the ripping pincers, nor the wedges which spread the joints, crack the articulations, or split the bones like pieces of wood, can work greater ravages on organs of living flesh and fill the brain with more horror than this sound of an invisible and immaterial bell, combining in itself all the known instruments of torture, infuriating all the sensitive and thinking parts of an individual at the same time, and fulfilling the office of more than a hundred executioners. The two men had started to pull on the ropes again, their throats wheezing and their sides heaving more rapidly. But their strength was gone, and flowed from their limbs in rivulets of sweat. They could scarcely stand erect now, and with their stiff + + +and ankylosed fingers, pull on the leather thongs. “Dogs!” howled the guard. A blow of the whip wrapped their loins and did not even make them tense themselves against the pain. It seemed that, with their nerves unstrung, all feeling had disappeared. Their knees, giving and trembling more and more, now knocked against each other. What muscles remained under the flayed skin contracted in tetanic movements. Suddenly one of them, at the peak of exhaustion, gave a little raucous moan and throwing his arms forward, fell beside the corpse, his face against the earth, spewing a flood of black blood. “Up! coward! Up! dog!” the guard shouted again. Four times the lash hissed and snapped on the man's back. The pheasants perched on the flowering stalks flew off with a great whirring of wings. Behind us, I heard the startled chatter of the peacocks. But the man did not get up. He did not stir again, and the pool of blood grew wider on the sand. The man was dead! Then I dragged Clara away. Her little fingers dug into my skin. I felt very pale, and walked and + + +stumbled like a drunkard. “It's too much... too much!” I constantly repeated. And, Clara, who followed docilely, also repeated: “Ah, you see, my darling! I knew. Did I lie to you?” We reached an alley which led to the central pond, and the peacocks which had followed us that far left suddenly and scattered with a great noise across the bushes and lawns of the gardens. This very broad alley was bordered on either side by dead trees, immense tamarinds whose great bare branches crisscrossed in stern arabesques against the sky. A niche had been dug in every trunk. The majority were empty, while some enclosed the bodies of men and women, violently distorted and subjected to hideous and shameful tortures. Before the occupied niches, a sort of clerk in a black gown stood gravely, a writing desk swung in front of him, and a register in his hands. “This is the alley of the accused,” Clara told me. “And these people you see standing here are only present to take down the confessions which prolonged suffering might drag from these wretches. + + +They rarely confess, preferring to die like this rather than prolong their agony in the cages of the bagnio and finally perish under other tortures. Generally the tribunals do not make much use of accusations, except in political crimes. They judge in groups, in batches, willy−nilly. Besides, you see there are not many accused, and the majority of the niches are empty. It's none the less true that the idea is ingenious. I really believe they got it from Greek mythology. It's a horrible adaptation of that charming fable of the hamadryads, imprisoned in their trees. Clara approached a tree where a young woman was breathing her last. She was suspended by her wrists from an iron hook, and the wrists were clasped between two blocks of wood pressed together with great force. A knotted rope of coconut fiber covered with pulverized pimento and mustard and soaked in a salt solution, was wound about her arms. “They keep that rope ort,'“ my friend condescended to remark, “until the arms are swollen to four times their natural size. Then they take it off, and the sores it produces often burst, making hideous wounds. They frequently die of it, but never + + +recover.” “But if the accused is found innocent?” I asked. “Oh well... “ said Clara. Another woman in another niche had her limbs spread, or rather, torn apart; her neck and arms were clamped in iron collars. Her eyelids, nostrils, lips and other parts were rubbed with red pepper, and two thumbscrews crushed her nipples. Farther on a young man was suspended by means of a rope passed under his armpits; a great block of stone hung from his shoulders, and you could hear the cracking of his joints. Still another, his back arched, balanced by an iron wire which bound his neck to his two big toes, was crouching with sharp−pointed stones in the bend of his knees. The niches in the trunks were becoming empty. Only from place to place there was a man bound, crucified, or hanging, whose eyes were closed and seemed to be asleep—and perhaps was dead. Clara spoke no more, and no longer explained anything. She listened to the heavy flight of the vultures circling above the interlacing branches, and the cawing of crows sailing through the sky in countless flocks. The + + +lugubrious alley of tamarinds ended on a broad terrace flowering with peonies, from which we descended to the pond. The irises lifted their strangely flowered stalks above the water, their petals the color of old sandstone vases, precious, blood−purple enamels, sinister purples, blue flamed with orange ochre, velvet blacks, and their calilyxes sulphur−colored. Some, immense and twisted, looked like cabalistic characters. The water−lilies and nelumbos spread their great swooning blossoms on the golden water, and looked to me like severed, floating heads. We remained some minutes leaning on the balustrade of the bridge, looking silently at the water. All enormous carp whose golden snout alone could be seen, slept under a leaf, and between the Indian grass and the reeds smaller carp swam back and forth, like evil thoughts in a woman's brain. + + +PART 9 + +And so the day is ending. The sky becomes red, striped by broad, surprisingly translucent emerald bands. It is the hour when the flowers take on a mysterious brilliance, a glitter both hard and restrained. They flame everywhere, as though they gave the evening atmosphere its light—all the sunlight with which their pulp has been saturated during the day. Between the heightened green of the lawns and these flaming bands, the paths of pulverized brick seem like streams of incandescent lava. The birds are silent in the branches; the insects have hushed their humming and are dying or asleep. The nocturnal butterflies and bats alone begin to wander in the air. Everywhere, from the sky to the trees, and from the trees to the earth, there is silence. And I also feel it penetrate me, chilling me like death. A flock of cranes descends the slope of the lawn and forms a ring around the pool, not far from us. I can hear the patter of their feet in the tall grass, and the dry clicking of their bills. Then, standing on one leg, motionless, their heads beneath + + +their wings, they seem like bronze decorations. And the golden−snouted carp which was sleeping under a nelumbo leaf, tacks about in the water, then plunges and disappears, leaving broad circles on the surface which gently sway the closed calyxes of the water−lilies, then broaden and are lost among the tufts of iris whose diabolic flowers, strangely defined, inscribe, under the evening magic, symbolic signs out of the Book of Fate. Above the water an enormous arum−lily spreads the trumpet of its greenish flower mottled with brown spots, and wafts to us the strong odor of a corpse. For a long time the flies swarm persistently and intently about its carrion calyx. Leaning on the railing of the bridge, her forehead barred with shadow, her eyes intent, Clara looks at the water. The reflection of the setting sun glows on the back of her neck. Her flesh is slack and her lips compressed. She is grave and very sad. She looks at the water, but her glance goes further and deeper than the water; it sinks perhaps, towards something more impenetrable and blacker than the bottom of this pond; perhaps it plumbs her soul, the gulf of her + + +soul which, in eddies of flame and blood, unfolds the monstrous blossoms of its desire. What is she really looking at? What is she thinking of? I do no know. Perhaps thinking of nothing. Somewhat weary, her nerves bruised and torn under the lash of too many sins, she is silent, that is all. Unless by a last effort of cerebration, she is gathering all the memories and images of this horrible day, to offer them as a bouquet of red flowers to her sex. I don't know. I dare not speak to her. She frightens me, and she also troubles me to the very depths of my being, by her immobility and silence. Does she really exist? I wonder, somewhat fearfully. Was she not born of my debauchery and fever? Is she not one of those impossible visions to which nightmares give birth? One of those criminal temptations such as lust stirs in the imagination of those invalids called assassins and murderers? Might she not be nothing more than my soul, escaped from me despite myself and materialized in the form of sin? No... for I can touch her. My hand recognized the admirable, living realities of her body. Through the scant silky material which covers it, her skin burned my fingers. And + + +Clara did not tremble at their contact; she did not swoon, as she often has, at their caress. I desire her and I hate her. I would like to take her in my arms and embrace her till she smothered, till she was crushed and I could drink her death from her gushing veins. In a voice first threatening and then submissive, I exclaim: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” Clara does not reply, she does not budge. She still looks at the water which is growing darker and darker; but I really do not believe she is looking at the water, nor the red reflection of the sky in the water, nor the flower, nor herself. Then I draw away a little, in order not to see her any longer, or touch her, and I turn towards the disappearing light, towards the light which only remains in the sky as a great ephemeral glow, soon little by little to melt away and go out in the night. Shadow descends on the garden, trailing its blue veils, lightly over the bare lawns, heavily on the sharply outlined bushes. The white flowers on the cherry trees and peach trees, now a lunar white, seem to glide and wander and assume the weird + + +aspects of phantoms. And the gallows and stakes lift their sinister columns and black framework in the oriental sky, blue as steel. Horror! Above a bush, against the dying purple of the evening, turning and turning on the stakes, slowly turning in the void and swaying like flowers whose stalks would be visible at night, I can see the black silhouettes of five tortured men. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” My voice does not reach her. Clara does not reply, does not budge, does not turn. She remains bending over the water, over the gulf of water. And just as she does not hear me, no more does she hear the moans, cries, and death−rattles of all those dying in the garden. I feel something like a powerful oppression, like an immense fatigue after marching and marching across fever−laden jungles, or by the shores of deadly lakes—and I am flooded by discouragement, so that it seems I shall never be able to escape from myself again. At the same time, my brain is heavy and troubles me. It feels as though an iron band were clasping my temples, tight enough to burst my + + +skull. Then, little by little, my thoughts abandon the garden, the torture−arenas, the agony beneath the bell, the trees haunted by pain, the bloody and devouring flowers. They are trying to burst through the setting of this charnel−house, penetrate to pure light, knock once more upon the gates of life. Alas, the gates of life never swing open except upon death, never open except upon the palaces and gardens of death. And the universe appears to me like an immense, inexorable torture−garden. Blood everywhere and, where there is most life, horrible tormentors who dig your flesh, saw your bones, and retract your skin with sinister, joyful faces. Ah, yes! the Torture Garden! Passions, appetites, greed, hatred, and lies; law, social institutions, justice, love, glory, heroism, and religion: these are its monstrous flowers and its hideous instruments of eternal human suffering. What I saw today, and what I heard, exists and cries and howls beyond this garden, which is no more than a symbol to me of the entire earth. I have vainly sought a respite in quietude and repose in death, and I can + + +find them nowhere. I should like, yes, I should like to be reassured, cleanse my soul and brain with old memories, with the memory of friendly, familiar faces. I call Europe and its hypocritical civilization to my aid, and Paris—my joyful, laughing Paris. But it is the face of Eugene Mortain I see grimacing on the shoulders of the fat loquacious executioner who, at the foot of the gallows, in the flowers, was cleaning his saws and scalpels. These are the eyes, the mouth, the limp and pendant cheeks of Mme. G— I see bending over the wooden horses, and her rapacious hands I see touching and caressing the iron jaws, gorged with human flesh. On all those men and women I loved or thought I loved, little indifferent, frivolous souls, the indelible red stain now lies. And these are the judges, soldiers, and priests who everywhere, in the churches, barracks and temples of justice persist in the work of death. And it is in the individual man, and the man−crowd, and it is in the beast, the plant, the element; it is in all nature in fact which, urged on by the cosmic forces of love, rushes to murder, hoping thus to find beyond life satiation for the furious + + +desires of life which devour it and overflow it in jets of filthy scum! Just now I wondered who Clara was and whether she really existed. Does she exist! Why Clara! Clara is life, the actual presence of life and all of life! “Clara! Clara! Clara!” She does not reply, she does not budge, she does not turn around. A thicker blue and silver mist rises from the lawns and the pond and envelops the bushes, shrouding the gallows. And it seems to me that an odor of blood, an odor of the corpse rises with it—an incense that invisible censers, swung by invisible hands, offer to the deathless glory of death and to the everlasting glory of Clara! On the other bank of the pool, behind me, the gecko begins to sound the hours. Another gecko answers... then another... then, another, at regular intervals. They are like bells calling and conversing as they sing, festal bells of an extraordinarily pure timbre, crystalline and sweetly sonorous, so sweet they suddenly dissipate the nightmare shapes which haunt the garden and: give security to the silence, and the charm of a white dream to the night. These + + +notes, so clear, so inexpressibly clear, now evoke in me thousands and thousands of nocturnal landscapes, in which my lungs can breathe, and in which my thought quickens. In a few moments I have forgotten that I am beside Clara, that about me the soil and flowers actually are wet with blood, and I see myself wandering across the silvery night in the midst of the fantastic rice−fields of Annam. “Let's go home!” says Clara. This abrupt, aggressive, and weary voice recalls me to reality. Clara is before me. Her crossed legs are outlined beneath the clinging folds of her dress, and she leans on the handle of her parasol. In the twilight, her lips shine like a little light shielded by a pink shade, in a great closed room. As I do not stir, she speaks again: “Well, I'm waiting!” I try to take her arm but She refuses. “No... no. Let's walk side by side.” “The road is long from here to the river. Take my arm, I beg you.” “No... thank you. Be quiet; oh, be quiet!” “Clara! You are not the same.” + + +“If you want to please me, be quiet. I don't like to be spoken to at this time.” Her voice is dry, cutting and imperious. Now we are leaving. We cross the bridge, she first and I behind her, and we enter little alleys which meander across the lawns. Clara walks with abrupt steps, jerkily, and with difficulty. And such is the invulnerable beauty of her body that these efforts do not break its full, harmonious, and supple lines. Her hips retain a divinely voluptuous swing. Even when her mind is far from love, when it stiffens, writhes and protests against love, it is still love—all the forms, intoxication, and ardors of love which animate it and, so to speak, mould this predestined body. There is not an attitude about her, not a gesture, not a quiver, not a swish of her dress or a wave of her hair, which does not cry love, which does not ooze love, which does not shower love about her upon every being and on everything. The sand of the alley cries out beneath her little feet, and I hear the noise of the sand, like a cry of desire, like a kiss, in which I distinguish, clear and rhythmical, the name which is everywhere—which was in the creaking of the stake + + +and the death rattle of the dying men, and fills the twilight now with its exquisite, funereal murmur that fades and rises: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” The gecko is silent now, to hear that name more clearly. Everything is silent. The twilight is enchanting, infinitely sweet, and with a caressing coolness which intoxicates. We walk amid perfumes. We brush by marvelous flowers, more marvelous for being scarcely visible, which bow before us and greet us on our way, like mysterious fairies. Nothing remains of the horror of the garden; only its beauty remains, trembles and heightens as the night falls more and more deliciously about us. I feel recovered. It seems my fever is gone. My limbs become lighter, stronger, and more elastic. As I walk along, my fatigue vanishes, and I feel something like a violent need of love rising in me. I have caught up to Clara and I walk beside her... quite near her... excited by her. But Clara's face is no longer sinful, as when she was chewing the thalictrum blossom and passionately peppering her + + +lips with its bitter pollen. The frozen expression of her face belies all the sensuous ardor of her body. At least, as far as I can see, it really seems that the lust which trembled with so strange a flame in: her eyes and swooned upon her mouth, has disappeared, completely disappeared from her mouth and eyes, together with the bloody images of torture in the garden. In a trembling voice, I ask her: “You're angry at me, Clara? You detest me?” She replies in an irritable voice: “No! no! That's beside the point, my friend. I beg you, please be quiet. You don't know how much you fatigue me!” I insist: “Yes! yes! I can see you detest me... and it's frightful! I feel like weeping!” “God, you annoy me! Be quiet... and weep if it will give you any pleasure. But be quiet!” And as we pass the place where we stopped to talk to the old executioner, hoping by my stupid persistence to bring back a smile to Clara's dead lips, I say: “Do you remember the roly−poly, my love? How funny he was, with his gown covered with blood, and + + +his instrument−case, and his red fingers, darling... and his theories about the sex of flowers? Do you remember? Sometimes twenty males are required for; the delight of a single female.” This time a shrug of her shoulders is her reply. She does not even deign to be irritated by my words. Then, urged by crude desire, I clumsily try to embrace Clara, and with brutal hands I grasp her breasts. “I want you... here... you hear me?... in this garden... in this silence... at the foot of these gallows.” My voice is panting and a vile slaver flows from my mouth, and together with that slaver, abominable words... the words she loves! With a twist of the loins, Clara releases herself from my clumsy embrace, and in a voice, in which there is anger, irony and also lassitude and enervation: “God! how frightfully boring you are, if you only knew... and ridiculous, my poor friend! What a common goat you are! Leave me alone. In a little while, if you insist, you can work out your dirty desires on the harlots. You're really too ridiculous!” + + +Ridiculous! Yes, I feel ridiculous... and I become resigned to be quiet. I would not care to tumble into her silence again, like a heavy stone falling in a lake where swans are sleeping under the moon! + + +PART 10 + +The sampan, all illuminated with red lanterns, was waiting for us at the wharf of the bagnio. A Chinese woman with a coarse face, dressed in blouse and trousers of black silk, her arms bare and loaded with heavy gold bracelets, her ears hung with big gold hoops, was holding the hawser. Clara jumped into the bark, and I followed her. “Where do you want to go?” the Chinese woman asked in English. Clara answered in a jerky, trembling voice: “Anywhere you wish... it doesn't matter where... on the river. You know very well.” I noticed then that she was very pale. Her pinched nostrils, her drawn features, and her vague eyes expressed great suffering. The Chinese woman nodded her head vaguely at me. “Yes... yes, I know,” she said. Her thick lips were corroded by the betel−nut, and there was a bestial harshness in her glance. As she was still muttering words I did not understand: “Come, Ki−Pai,” commanded Clara in an abrupt + + +tone, “shut up, and do as I tell you. Besides, the gates of the city are closed.” “The gates of the garden are open—” “Do as I tell you.” Dropping the hawser, the Chinese woman grasped the sculling oar with a vigorous movement and handled it skillfully. We glided over the water. The night was very balmy. We breathed a warm but infinitely fragrant air. The water sang about the prow of the sampan, and the view on the river was like a great festival. On the opposite shore, and on our right and left, variegated lanterns lit up the masts, sails, and crowded decks of the boats. A strange murmur in the air—cries, chants, and music—came from them, as from a holiday crowd. The water was quite black, a dull, velvety black, with occasional dull, ripply gleams and no other bright lights than the shattered red and green reflections of the lanterns that illuminated the sampans with which the stream was literally jammed at this hour. Beyond a somber space in the dark sky, rising between the black masses of the trees, the city lay in the distance with its mounting terraces lit like + + +an immense red brazier, like a fiery mountain. As we went farther off we could make out, less distinctly, the high walls of the bagnio from which, at every round of the night watchmen, their swaying torches shot blinding triangles of light onto the stream and over the countryside. Clara had disappeared under the canopy which transformed this bark into a sort of cozy boudoir, lined with silk and breathing of love. Violent perfumes burned in a very ancient wrought−iron vase—a naive, synthetic image of an elephant whose four massive, barbaric feet rested on delicate interlacing roses. There were voluptuous prints on the hangings—boldly lustful scenes, executed strangely, cleverly, and magnificently. The frieze of the canopy, a precious piece in colored wood, exactly reproduced a fragment of that mural in the subterranean temple of Elephanta, which the archeologists, in accordance with Brahman traditions, modestly call: The Union of the Rooks. A broad deep mattress of embroidered silk occupied the center of the bark, and from the ceiling there hung a lantern with phallic inserts, a lantern partly + + +draped with orchids which shed the mysterious twilight of an alcove or a sanctuary over the interior of the sampan. Clara threw herself on the cushions. She was extraordinarily pale, and her body trembled, shaken by nervous spasms. I tried to take her hands, and they were icy. “Clara! Clara!” I implored, “what's the matter with you? What are you suffering from? Speak to me!” She replied in a raucous voice which issued painfully from her contracted throat: “Leave me alone. Don't touch me... don't talk to me. I'm sick.” Her pallor, her bloodless lips, and her rasping voice frightened me. I thought she was going to die. Terrified, I called the Chinese woman to my aid: “Quick! quick! Clara's dying! Clara's dying! Come quick!” But having parted the curtains and shown her chimera's face, Ki−Pai shrugged her shoulders and exclaimed brutally: “That's nothing. She's always like that when she comes back from down there.” And grumbling, she + + +returned to her oar. Under Ki−Pai's muscular exertions, the bark, lifted in the water, slid more rapidly over the stream. We crossed in front of sampans like our own, from whose canopies with their closed curtains there came songs, the sound of kisses, laughter, and the groans of love, which mingled with the lapping of the water and the distant, almost smothered reverberation of tom−toms and gongs. In a few minutes we had reached the other shore and for a long time glided by black, deserted hulks, and others lit and crowded; low dives, porter's teahouses, flower−boats for sailors and the riffraff of the port. Through portholes and lighted windows I caught fleeting scenes—strange painted faces, lewd dances, wild debauchery, faces of people under the influence of opium. Clara remained insensible to all that was taking place around her, both in the silken bark or on the stream. Her face was pressed into the pillow, and she chewed on it. I tried to make her breathe the smelling−salts. Three times she pushed the flask away with an exhausted, heavy gesture. Her throat bare, her breasts bursting the torn + + +material of her corsage, her legs tense and vibrant as the strings of a viol, she was breathing with difficulty. I didn't know what to do; I didn't know what to say. And I bent over her, with her agonizing soul, full of its tragic incertitudes and countless troubles. To reassure myself that it was really a passing crisis, that nothing in her had broken the springs of life, I grasped her wrist. Under my hand her pulse beat rapidly, light, and regular as the heart of a little bird or a little child. From time to time a sigh escaped her lips, a long and painful sigh which lifted and swelled her rosy breast. Trembling, I murmured in a low and very gentle voice: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” She did not hear me, did not see me, and her face was hidden in the pillow. Her hat had slipped from her hair whose red−gold, under the glow of the lantern, took on the tones of old mahogany, and projecting from her dress, her feet, clad in yellow leather, still were spotted here and there with bloody mud. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” Nothing but the song of the water and the distant + + +music and, between the curtains of the canopy, down there, the fiery mountain of the terrible city, and nearer, the red, green, alert, and sinuous reflections diving about in the black stream like slender, luminous eels. There was a slight shock, the Chinese woman called, and we drew up beside a sort of long terrace, the illuminated terrace of a flower−boat clamorous with music and excitement. Ki−Pai moored the bark to some iron hooks in front of a ladder whose red rungs dipped into the water. Two enormous, round lanterns gleamed on top of poles decked with fluttering yellow pennants. “Where are we?” I asked. “We are where she ordered me to bring you,” replied Ki−Pai in a surly tone of voice, “where she spends the night when she comes back from down there.” I suggested: “Wouldn't it be better to take her home, in her condition?” Ki−Pai replied: She's always like that after the bagnio. And then, the town is closed, and to get to the palace through + + +the gardens is too far now, and too dangerous.” And contemptuously, she added: “She's all right here. She's well known here.” I gave in. “Then help me,” I commanded, “and don't be rough with her.” Very gently, with infinite precaution, Ki−Pai and I took Clara in our arms, who offered no more resistance than a dead woman. Supporting her, or rather, carrying her, we got her out of the bark with difficulty, and helped her up the ladder. She was cold and heavy. Her head was thrown slightly back and her thick and sinuous hair, entirely undone, tumbled about her shoulders in fiery waves. Grasping Ki−Pai's coarse neck with a limp hand, and almost fainting, she uttered vague little moans and blurted out inarticulate little words, like a child. And panting slightly under my friend's weight, I groaned: “If only she doesn't die, my God! If only she doesn't die!” Ki−Pai sneered with her fierce mouth: “Die! She! There's no suffering in her body... only corruption!” We were received at the top of the ladder by two + + +women whose eyes were made up, and whose golden nakedness gleamed through the light, diaphanous veils which draped them. They had shameful jewels in their hair, jewels on their wrists and fingers, jewels on their ankles and bare feet, and their skin, rubbed with fine essences gave off scents of a garden. One of them clapped her hands joyfully: “Why it's our little friend!” she cried. “I told you she'd come, the darling. She always does. Quick... quick... lay her on the bed, the darling.” She indicated a sort of mattress, or rather litter, stretched out against the wall, and we laid Clara on it. She no longer moved. Under her frightfully open lids, only the whites of her eyes showed. Then the Chinese woman with the painted eyes bent over Clara, and in a deliciously rhythmic voice, as though she were singing, said: “Little, little friend of my breasts and my soul... how beautiful you are like that! You are as beautiful as a young girl dead. However, you are not dead. You are going to revive, little friend of my lips, revive under my caresses and the perfumes of my mouth.” She moistened Clara's forehead with a violent + + +perfume, and made her inhale the salts: “Yes, yes! dear little soul. You have fainted... and you cannot hear me! and you cannot feel my gentle fingers... but your heart beats, beats, beats. And love gallops in your veins like a young horse... love bounds in your veins like a young tiger.” She turned to me: “You must not be sad, because she has always fainted when she comes here. In a few minutes we'll cry with delight over her happy burning flesh.” And I stood there, inert, silent, my limbs leaden, my chest oppressed as in a nightmare. I had no further sensation of reality. All I had seen—mutilated visions rising from the surrounding shadows and the depths of the stream, then diving in again to reappear soon in fantastic shapes—terrified me. The long terrace hanging in the night, with its red−lacquered balustrades and slender columns supporting the bold slant of its roof, its garlands of lanterns alternating with garlands of flowers, was filled with a chattering, stirring and extraordinarily colorful crowd. A hundred painted glances fastened upon us, a hundred painted−mouths whispered + + +words I could not hear, but in which I seemed to hear Clara's name ceaselessly repeated perhaps only in my mind: “Clara! Clara! Clara!” And naked bodies, clasped bodies, tattooed arms loaded with gold bracelets, bellies and breasts, all twisted under their diaphanous, flying scarves. And in all this, around all this, above all this, there rose cries, laughter, songs, the notes of a flute, odors of tea and precious woods, the powerful aroma of opium, and breaths heavy with perfume. The intoxication of dream, debauch, torture and crime—all these hands, mouths, breasts, and all this living flesh came hurling upon Clara, to possess her dead flesh! I could not make a move or utter a word. At my side a very young and pretty Chinese girl, almost a child, with eyes both candid and provocative, was hawking strangely indelicate objects in a basket—shameless ivories, rose−colored rubber verges and illustrated books in which the thousand complicated joys of love were painted. “Love! love! who wants love? I have love for + + +everyone!” However I bent over Clara... “You must bring her to my room,” commanded the Chinese girl with painted eyes. Two powerful men lifted the litter, and mechanically, I followed them. Guided by the courtesan, they went through a wide corridor, sumptuous as a temple. On the right and left, doors opened upon great rooms spread with mats and lit by soft pink lights draped with muslin. Presiding over the thresholds, symbolic animals thrust out enormous and terrible organs, hermaphroditic divinities gave themselves to each other or straddled impassioned monsters. And perfumes burned in precious bronze vases. A silk portiere embroidered with peach blossoms parted and two women's heads were thrust through the opening. Watching us pass by, one of these women said: “Who's dead?” The other replied: “No! No one's dead. Can't you see it's the woman from the Torture Garden.” And Clara's name, whispered from mouth to mouth, from bed to bed, and room to room, soon filled the flower−boat like some monstrous jest. It even seemed to me that the + + +metal monsters repeated it in their ecstasy, howling it in their delirium of bloody passion. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” Here, I caught a glimpse of a young man stretched out on a bed. A little opium−lamp was burning within reach of his hand. In his strangely dilated eyes there was something like an agonizing ecstasy. Before him, mouth to mouth, and body to body, naked women clasping each other danced sacred dances while musicians, crouched behind a screen, blew into short flutes. There, seated in a circle or lying on the floor−mat in dissolute poses, their debauched faces sadder than the faces of the tortured, other women were waiting. At each door we passed there was moaning—panting voices, gestures of the damned, crushed and twisted bodies—a grimacing anguish sometimes howling under the lash of fierce passions and barbaric abuse. Guarding the entrance to one door, I saw a bronze group the mere arabesque of whose lines made me shudder with horror. An octopus, embracing the body of a virgin with its tentacles, was amorously crushing her. And I felt I was in a place of torture, not a house + + +of joy and love. The jam in the corridor became so great that for several seconds we were obliged to halt in the threshold of a room—the largest of them all—which differed from the others by its decorations and its sinister red lighting. At first, I only saw the women—a tangle of furious flesh and living scarves—women abandoning themselves to frantic dances and demoniac possession, around a sort of idol whose massive bronze, of a very ancient patina, rose in the center of the room and towered to the ceiling. Then the idol itself became clear, and I recognized it as that terrible idol known as the Idol of the Seven Verges. Three heads armed with red horns, coiffed with hair in twisted flames, crowned a single body, or rather a single belly, based on an enormous, pagan and phallic−form pillar. All around this pillar, at the exact point the monstrous belly ended, seven bronze verges thrust forth, to which the dancing women offered flowers and furious caresses. And the red glow of the room gave diabolic life to the jade balls which served as the Idol's eyes. At the moment we started again I witnessed a frightful spectacle whose + + +infernal, shuddering horror it is impossible for me to describe. Shouting and howling, seven women suddenly hurled themselves upon the seven bronzes. The Idol, embraced by all this raving flesh, vibrated under the multiple shocks of this possession and the kisses which rang out like the blows of a battering ram on the iron gates of a besieged city. Then there was a maddened clamor about the Idol, an insanity of savage abandon, a storm of bodies so frantically clasped and welded to each other that they assumed the fierce appearance of a massacre, resembling the carnage of those condemned men in their iron cages fighting over Clara's scrap of putrid meat! In that atrocious second I understood that desire can attain the darkest human terror and give an actual idea of hell and its horror. And it seemed to me that all these shocks, all these panting voices, all these groans, all these bites and the Idol itself, had only one word—a single word—to express and belch their rage of insatiability and the torture of their impotence: “Clara!” When we had reached the room and deposited + + +Clara, still unconscious, on a bed, I once more became aware of myself and where I was. These chants, debauches, sacrifices, devitalizing perfumes and impure contacts which further soiled the sleeping soul of my friend, flooded me with an overwhelming shame even more powerful than my horror. I had great difficulty in chasing away the curious and talkative women who had followed us, not only from the bed on which we had laid Clara, but even from the room where I wanted to be alone with her. I retained only Ki−Pai who, despite her surly airs and coarse remarks, revealed herself to be very devoted to her mistress and displayed great delicacy and tender skill in the care she took of her. Clara's pulse still beat with the same reassuring regularity as though she had been in robust health. Life had not for a moment left this flesh which seemed forever dead. And both Ki−Pai and I were eager for her recovery. Suddenly she began to moan; the muscles of her face contracted, and light nervous spasms shook her throat, her arms and legs. Ki−Pai said: “She will have a terrible crisis. You'll have to hold + + +her firmly and take good care she doesn't claw her face and tear out her hair with her nails.” I thought she could hear me, and that, knowing me there beside her, the crisis Ki−Pai had predicted would be moderated. I murmured in her ear, attempting to put in my words all the caress of my voice, all the affection of my heart and also all the compassion—ah yes!—all the compassion in the world. “Clara! Clara! It's I. Look at me... listen to me.” But Ki−Pai stopped my mouth. “Be quiet!” she said imperiously. “How can you expect her to hear us? She's still with the evil genii.” Then Clara began to struggle. All her muscles tightened, swelled and contracted frightfully... her articulations cracked, like the joints of a boat disabled in a storm. An expression of horrible suffering, all the more horrible for being silent, masked her face, contorted like the faces of the tortured men under the bell in the garden. Between her half−closed, twitching lids, only a slender bluish trace of her eyes showed. A little froth foamed at her lips. And, breathlessly, I groaned: “My God! my God! + + +Is it possible? What's going to happen?” Ki−Pai commanded me: “Hold her down... but leave her body free... for the demons must leave her body.” And she added: “It's the end. In a moment she will begin to cry.” We held her wrists, to prevent her from belaboring her face with her nails. And she had such strength I thought she would crush our hands. In a last convulsion her body was arched from her heels to her neck and taut skin quivered. Then, little by little the crisis abated. Her muscles relaxed, and she fell back exhausted on the bed, her eyes full of tears. For several moments she wept and wept. Tears flowed from her eyes, silently and ceaselessly, as from a spring! “It's over,” said Ki−Pai. “You may talk to her.” Her hand was now soft, moist, and burning in my own. Her eyes, still vague and distant, sought to recapture a consciousness of objects and shapes about her. She seemed to be returning from a long and agonizing sleep. “Clara! my little Clara!” I murmured. For a long time she looked at me through her tears with a sad, + + +hazy look. “You,” she said. “You... ah, yes.” And her voice was like a whisper. “It's I, it's I! Clara. Here I am. Do you recognize me?” She gave a sort of little hiccough, a little sob. And she stammered. “Oh, my darling! my darling! my poor darling!” Resting her head against mine, she begged me: “Don't move. I'm all right like this... I'm pure like this... I'm all white... all white... like an anemone!” I asked her if she was still suffering. “No, no! I'm not suffering... and I'm happy to be here by you, quite little, beside you... quite little, quite little... and all white, white as those little swallows in the Chinese tales... you know... those little swallows.” With great difficulty, she uttered only little words... little words of purity and whiteness. On her lips there were only little flowers, little birds, little stars, little springs... and souls and wings, and heaven... heaven... heaven. Then, interrupting her babbling from time to time, she pressed my hand more strongly and rested, nestling her head against + + +mine and saying more forcibly: “Oh, my darling! never again, I swear to you! Never again, never again... never again!” Ki−Pai had retired to the corner of the room, and in a low voice was singing a song, one of those songs which put little children to sleep and cradle them in their sleep. “Never again... never again... never again!” repeated Clara, in a slow voice which was lost and melted into the slower and slower song Ki−Pai was singing. And she fell asleep against me, with a calm, clear, and deep sleep—deep as a great, gentle lake under a summer night's moon. Ki−Pai got up gently, noiselessly. “I'm going,” she said. “I'm going to sleep in the sampan. Tomorrow morning, when dawn comes, you will bring my mistress back to the palace. And it will begin all over again! It will always begin all over again!” “Don't say that, Ki−Pai,” I begged. “Just look at her sleeping against me, look at her sleeping so calm and pure a sleep, against me.” The Chinese nodded her grimacing head, and with sad eyes, in + + +which pity had replaced disgust, she murmured: “I see her sleeping against you, and I tell you.—In eight days I'll accompany you both like this evening, on the river, coming from the Torture Garden. And after eight more years I'll accompany you the same way on the river, if you haven't gone away—and if I'm not dead!” She added: “And if I am dead, some one else will accompany you with my mistress, on the river. And if you have gone away, some one else will accompany my mistress on the river. And nothing will be changed.” “Ki−Pai! Ki−Pai! Why do you say that? Look at her sleeping again. You don't know what you're saying!” “Hush!” she said, placing her finger against her mouth. “Don't talk so loud. Don't move so much. Don't wake her up. At least, when she's asleep she can do no evil, either to others or herself.” Walking carefully on tiptoe, like a nurse, she went to the door and opened it. “Get out! Get out!” It was the voice of Ki−Pai, imperious among the buzzing voices of the women. And I could see nothing but painted eyes, painted + + +faces, red mouths, tattooed breasts... and I heard the cries and the moans, the dances, sounds of flutes, the resonance of metal, and that name which ran and panted from mouth to mouth and shook the whole flower−boat like a spasm of love. “Clara! Clara! Clara!” The door closed, the noises were muffled, and the faces disappeared. And I was alone in the room where two lamps burned, draped with pink crepe... alone with Clara who was asleep and from time to time, repeated in her sleep, like a little dreaming child: “Never again! Never again!” And as though to belie those words, a bronze which I had not yet noticed, a fiercely sneering bronze ape crouching in the corner of the room extended towards Clara a monstrous phallus. Ah, if only she might never awake! “Clara! Clara! Clara!” diff --git a/erotic_generator.ipynb b/erotic_generator.ipynb new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85a7e46 --- /dev/null +++ b/erotic_generator.ipynb @@ -0,0 +1,499 @@ +{ + "cells": [ + { + "cell_type": "markdown", + "metadata": {}, + "source": [ + "# Perth Machine Learning Group Poem Generator\n", + "\n", + "## Introduction\n", + "\n", + "The following code uses GRU to generate poems. It reads through a corpus of poems, and learns sequences of characters, including line breaks and titles.\n", + "\n", + "In short, it observes many sequence of characters, and infers the character that should come next. For instance, it guesses that after 'The cat eat' should come the letter 's'.\n", + "\n", + "Further details will be given with the code.\n", + "\n", + "## The code\n", + "\n", + "### Data exploration" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:53.215830Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:51.102040Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "import tensorflow as tf # version 1.9 or above\n", + "tf.enable_eager_execution() # Execution of code as it runs in the notebook. Normally, TensorFlow looks up the whole code before execution for efficiency.\n", + "\n", + "import numpy as np\n", + "import re\n", + "import random\n", + "import unidecode\n", + "import time" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:53.222780Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:53.219041Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "path_to_file = 'data/erotic_corpus.txt'" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:54.835754Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:53.226109Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "text = unidecode.unidecode(open(path_to_file).read())\n", + "print(text[:500])" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "markdown", + "metadata": {}, + "source": [ + "### Dataset creation" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:54.944800Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:54.839132Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "unique = sorted(set(text)) # unique contains all the unique characters in the corpus\n", + "\n", + "char2idx = {u:i for i, u in enumerate(unique)} # maps characters to indexes\n", + "idx2char = {i:u for i, u in enumerate(unique)} # maps indexes to characters" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:54.959689Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:54.947850Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "max_length = 100 # Maximum length sentence we want per input in the network\n", + "vocab_size = len(unique)\n", + "embedding_dim = 256 # number of 'meaningful' features to learn. Ex: ['queen', 'king', 'man', 'woman'] has a least 2 embedding dimension: royalty and gender.\n", + "units = 1024 # In keras: number of output of a sequence. In short it rem\n", + "BATCH_SIZE = 64\n", + "BUFFER_SIZE = 10000" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:55.924464Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:54.962057Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "input_text = []\n", + "target_text = []\n", + "\n", + "for f in range(0, len(text) - max_length, max_length):\n", + " inps = text[f : f + max_length]\n", + " targ = text[f + 1 : f + 1 + max_length]\n", + " input_text.append([char2idx[i] for i in inps])\n", + " target_text.append([char2idx[t] for t in targ])" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.336892Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:53:55.927781Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "dataset = tf.data.Dataset.from_tensor_slices((input_text, target_text)).shuffle(BUFFER_SIZE)\n", + "dataset = dataset.apply(tf.contrib.data.batch_and_drop_remainder(BATCH_SIZE))" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "markdown", + "metadata": {}, + "source": [ + "### Explaination\n", + "\n", + "In fact, the algorithm does not learn which characters comes next. It analyzes sequences of characters as inputs (ex: 'abcd'), and predicts sequences as outputs (ex: 'bcde').\n", + "\n", + "Why?\n", + "\n", + "During the training phase, it learns more that just the next character. It updates weights for each characters from the input sequence to the output sequence.\n", + "\n", + "> Consider the sequences 'abcd', 'bcde', 'cdef', 'defg', the letter \"d\" is given different weights that depend on the previous sequences\n", + "\n", + "The use of these updates helps predicting better the next sequences and so on. So it learns the next character but also all the weights \n", + "\n", + "The next chunk of code is optional." + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.345334Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.340346Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "# example of input:\n", + "print('Given the following sequence: \\n\\n')\n", + "print(''.join(idx2char[input_text[14][i]] for i in range(len(target_text[0]))))\n", + "print('\\n\\n')\n", + "print('the network has to learn that a correct continuation is: \\n')\n", + "# example of output the algorithm has to learn\n", + "print(''.join(idx2char[target_text[14][i]] for i in range(len(input_text[0]))))" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "markdown", + "metadata": {}, + "source": [ + "### Model" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.361108Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.347737Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "class Model(tf.keras.Model):\n", + " def __init__(self, vocab_size, embedding_dim, units, batch_size):\n", + " super(Model, self).__init__()\n", + " self.units = units\n", + " self.batch_sz = batch_size\n", + " self.embedding = tf.keras.layers.Embedding(vocab_size, embedding_dim)\n", + " if tf.test.is_gpu_available():\n", + " self.gru = tf.keras.layers.CuDNNGRU(self.units, \n", + " return_sequences=True, \n", + " return_state=True, \n", + " recurrent_initializer='glorot_uniform')\n", + " else:\n", + " self.gru = tf.keras.layers.GRU(self.units, \n", + " return_sequences=True, \n", + " return_state=True, \n", + " recurrent_activation='sigmoid', \n", + " recurrent_initializer='glorot_uniform')\n", + " self.fc = tf.keras.layers.Dense(vocab_size)\n", + " \n", + " def call(self, x, hidden):\n", + " x = self.embedding(x)\n", + " output, states = self.gru(x, initial_state=hidden)\n", + " output = tf.reshape(output, (-1, output.shape[2]))\n", + " x = self.fc(output)\n", + "# x = tf.log_sigmoid(x)\n", + " return x, states" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.382931Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.363461Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "model = Model(vocab_size, embedding_dim, units, BATCH_SIZE)" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.395298Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.385863Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "optimizer = tf.train.AdamOptimizer()" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.408158Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.398360Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "def loss_function(real, preds):\n", + " return tf.losses.sparse_softmax_cross_entropy(labels=real, logits=preds)" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "markdown", + "metadata": {}, + "source": [ + "### Training" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T03:15:13.118684Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T02:54:10.411161Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "n_epochs = 30\n", + "\n", + "for epoch in range(n_epochs):\n", + " start = time.time()\n", + " hidden = model.reset_states() # initializes the hidden state at the start of every epoch\n", + " \n", + " for (batch, (inp, target)) in enumerate(dataset):\n", + " with tf.GradientTape() as tape:\n", + " predictions, hidden = model(inp, hidden) # feeds the hidden state back into the model\n", + " target = tf.reshape(target, (-1, )) # reshapes for the loss function\n", + " loss = loss_function(target, predictions)\n", + " \n", + " grads = tape.gradient(loss, model.variables)\n", + " optimizer.apply_gradients(zip(grads, model.variables), global_step=tf.train.get_or_create_global_step())\n", + "\n", + " if batch % 100 == 0:\n", + " print ('Epoch {} Batch {} Loss {:.4f}'.format(epoch + 1, batch, loss))\n", + " \n", + " print ('Epoch {} Loss {:.4f}'.format(epoch + 1, loss))\n", + " print('Time taken for 1 epoch {} sec\\n'.format(time.time() - start))" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "markdown", + "metadata": {}, + "source": [ + "\n", + "### Text generation" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T04:24:19.315888Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T04:24:19.310745Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "m=1.2\n", + "lighten=lambda x:1-(1/m-x/m)\n", + "from IPython.display import HTML, display" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "start_time": "2018-11-03T04:41:12.873Z" + }, + "scrolled": false + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "start_strings = [\n", + " 'magnificent', \n", + " 'bodice', \n", + " 'secret',\n", + " 'nuns',\n", + " 'belong',\n", + " 'by God',\n", + " 'all overcome', \n", + " 'his eyes', \n", + " 'why',\n", + " 'yielding',\n", + " 'flutter',\n", + " 'wives',\n", + " 'swooned', \n", + " 'Mrs',\n", + " 'delicious',\n", + " 'loins',\n", + " 'body',\n", + " 'greatest',\n", + " 'alone',\n", + " 'merely',\n", + " 'Spontaneously',\n", + " 'frightful',\n", + " 'intimate',\n", + " 'clinging',\n", + " 'neglect',\n", + " 'gushed',\n", + " 'grace',\n", + " 'drunk',\n", + " 'panting',\n", + " 'honey',\n", + " \n", + "]\n", + "\n", + "html_generateds = []\n", + "for start_string in start_strings:\n", + " num_generate = 200 # number of characters to generate\n", + "# start_string = 'The lady' # beginning of the generated text. TODO: try start_string = ' '\n", + "\n", + " input_eval = [char2idx[s] for s in start_string] # converts start_string to numbers the model understands\n", + " input_eval = tf.expand_dims(input_eval, 0) # \n", + "\n", + " text_generated = ''\n", + " html_generated = ''\n", + " text_generated += start_string\n", + " html_generated += '{}'.format(start_string)\n", + "\n", + " temperature = 0.9 # arger is more creative\n", + " hidden = [tf.zeros((1, units))]\n", + " for i in range(num_generate):\n", + " predictions, hidden = model(input_eval, hidden) # predictions holds the probability for each character to be most adequate continuation\n", + "\n", + " predictions = predictions / temperature # alters characters' probabilities to be picked (but keeps the order)\n", + " predicted_id = tf.multinomial(tf.exp(predictions), num_samples=1)[0][0].numpy() # picks the next character for the generated text\n", + " predicted_probs = tf.nn.softmax(logits=predictions)[0, predicted_id].numpy()\n", + "\n", + " input_eval = tf.expand_dims([predicted_id], 0)\n", + " text_generated += idx2char[predicted_id] # appends\n", + " html_generated+='{c:}'.format(\n", + " c=idx2char[predicted_id],\n", + " a=lighten(predicted_probs))\n", + "\n", + " text_generated += '\\n\\n'\n", + " html_generated += '

'\n", + " \n", + " display(HTML(html_generated))\n", + " html_generateds.append(html_generated)\n" + ] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T04:34:25.417191Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T04:34:25.395049Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [] + }, + { + "cell_type": "code", + "execution_count": null, + "metadata": { + "ExecuteTime": { + "end_time": "2018-11-03T04:34:30.000478Z", + "start_time": "2018-11-03T04:34:29.989494Z" + } + }, + "outputs": [], + "source": [ + "html=\"\"\"\n", + " \n", + " {}\n", + " \n", + " \n", + " \"\"\".format('
'.join(html_generateds))\n", + "\n", + "display(HTML(html))\n", + "with open('outputs/erotics_predictions.html', 'w') as fo:\n", + " fo.write(html)" + ] + } + ], + "metadata": { + "kernelspec": { + "display_name": "Python 3", + "language": "python", + "name": "python3" + }, + "toc": { + "colors": { + "hover_highlight": "#DAA520", + "navigate_num": "#000000", + "navigate_text": "#333333", + "running_highlight": "#FF0000", + "selected_highlight": "#FFD700", + "sidebar_border": "#EEEEEE", + "wrapper_background": "#FFFFFF" + }, + "moveMenuLeft": true, + "nav_menu": { + "height": "228px", + "width": "251px" + }, + "navigate_menu": true, + "number_sections": true, + "sideBar": true, + "threshold": 4, + "toc_cell": false, + "toc_position": { + "height": "526px", + "left": "0px", + "right": "1008px", + "top": "149px", + "width": "368px" + }, + "toc_section_display": "block", + "toc_window_display": true, + "widenNotebook": false + } + }, + "nbformat": 4, + "nbformat_minor": 2 +} diff --git a/outputs/.gitkeep b/outputs/.gitkeep new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e69de29 diff --git a/poem_generator.ipynb b/poem_generator.ipynb deleted file mode 100644 index 8e2b56f..0000000 --- a/poem_generator.ipynb +++ /dev/null @@ -1,581 +0,0 @@ -{ - "cells": [ - { - "cell_type": "markdown", - "metadata": {}, - "source": [ - "# Perth Machine Learning Group Poem Generator\n", - "\n", - "## Introduction\n", - "\n", - "The following code uses GRU to generate poems. It reads through a corpus of poems, and learns sequences of characters, including line breaks and titles.\n", - "\n", - "In short, it observes many sequence of characters, and infers the character that should come next. For instance, it guesses that after 'The cat eat' should come the letter 's'.\n", - "\n", - "Further details will be given with the code.\n", - "\n", - "## The code\n", - "\n", - "### Data exploration" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 2, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "import tensorflow as tf # version 1.9 or above\n", - "tf.enable_eager_execution() # Execution of code as it runs in the notebook. Normally, TensorFlow looks up the whole code before execution for efficiency.\n", - "\n", - "import numpy as np\n", - "import re\n", - "import random\n", - "import unidecode\n", - "import time" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 3, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "path_to_file = 'poem_corpus.txt'" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 5, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [ - { - "name": "stdout", - "output_type": "stream", - "text": [ - " CHRISTMAS NIGHT.\n", - "\n", - "\n", - " Be peace on earth, good will to men;\n", - " And let this now our carol be:\n", - " If on the land, or on the sea,\n", - " We still will sing the glad refrain;\n", - " And in the closing light of day\n", - " Good words of peace and cheer will say.\n", - "\n", - " The Babe that in the manger born\n", - " Has risen high above the star,\n", - " To judge in peace, or judge in war,\n", - " To judge at night or judge at morn.\n", - " The star that told us of his birth\n", - " Has given us joy and lastin\n" - ] - } - ], - "source": [ - "text = unidecode.unidecode(open(path_to_file).read())\n", - "print(text[:500])" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "markdown", - "metadata": {}, - "source": [ - "### Dataset creation" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 6, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "unique = sorted(set(text)) # unique contains all the unique characters in the corpus\n", - "\n", - "char2idx = {u:i for i, u in enumerate(unique)} # maps characters to indexes\n", - "idx2char = {i:u for i, u in enumerate(unique)} # maps indexes to characters" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 7, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "max_length = 100 # Maximum length sentence we want per input in the network\n", - "vocab_size = len(unique)\n", - "embedding_dim = 256 # number of 'meaningful' features to learn. Ex: ['queen', 'king', 'man', 'woman'] has a least 2 embedding dimension: royalty and gender.\n", - "units = 1024 # In keras: number of output of a sequence. In short it rem\n", - "BATCH_SIZE = 64\n", - "BUFFER_SIZE = 10000" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 8, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "input_text = []\n", - "target_text = []\n", - "\n", - "for f in range(0, len(text) - max_length, max_length):\n", - " inps = text[f : f + max_length]\n", - " targ = text[f + 1 : f + 1 + max_length]\n", - " input_text.append([char2idx[i] for i in inps])\n", - " target_text.append([char2idx[t] for t in targ])" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 13, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [ - { - "name": "stdout", - "output_type": "stream", - "text": [ - "WARNING:tensorflow:From :2: batch_and_drop_remainder (from tensorflow.contrib.data.python.ops.batching) is deprecated and will be removed in a future version.\n", - "Instructions for updating:\n", - "Use `tf.data.Dataset.batch(..., drop_remainder=True)`.\n" - ] - } - ], - "source": [ - "dataset = tf.data.Dataset.from_tensor_slices((input_text, target_text)).shuffle(BUFFER_SIZE)\n", - "dataset = dataset.apply(tf.contrib.data.batch_and_drop_remainder(BATCH_SIZE))" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "markdown", - "metadata": {}, - "source": [ - "### Explaination\n", - "\n", - "In fact, the algorithm does not learn which characters comes next. It analyzes sequences of characters as inputs (ex: 'abcd'), and predicts sequences as outputs (ex: 'bcde').\n", - "\n", - "Why?\n", - "\n", - "During the training phase, it learns more that just the next character. It updates weights for each characters from the input sequence to the output sequence.\n", - "\n", - "> Consider the sequences 'abcd', 'bcde', 'cdef', 'defg', the letter \"d\" is given different weights that depend on the previous sequences\n", - "\n", - "The use of these updates helps predicting better the next sequences and so on. So it learns the next character but also all the weights \n", - "\n", - "The next chunk of code is optional." - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 20, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [ - { - "name": "stdout", - "output_type": "stream", - "text": [ - "Given the following sequence: \n", - "\n", - "\n", - "ew over the land,\n", - " And the country was wild with glee;\n", - " And she stilled the wave in the stor\n", - "\n", - "\n", - "\n", - "the network learns that a correct continuation is: \n", - "\n", - "w over the land,\n", - " And the country was wild with glee;\n", - " And she stilled the wave in the storm\n" - ] - } - ], - "source": [ - "# example of input:\n", - "print('Given the following sequence: \\n\\n')\n", - "print(''.join(idx2char[input_text[14][i]] for i in range(len(target_text[0]))))\n", - "print('\\n\\n')\n", - "print('the network has to learn that a correct continuation is: \\n')\n", - "# example of output the algorithm has to learn\n", - "print(''.join(idx2char[target_text[14][i]] for i in range(len(input_text[0]))))" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "markdown", - "metadata": {}, - "source": [ - "### Model" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 14, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "class Model(tf.keras.Model):\n", - " def __init__(self, vocab_size, embedding_dim, units, batch_size):\n", - " super(Model, self).__init__()\n", - " self.units = units\n", - " self.batch_sz = batch_size\n", - " self.embedding = tf.keras.layers.Embedding(vocab_size, embedding_dim)\n", - " if tf.test.is_gpu_available():\n", - " self.gru = tf.keras.layers.CuDNNGRU(self.units, \n", - " return_sequences=True, \n", - " return_state=True, \n", - " recurrent_initializer='glorot_uniform')\n", - " else:\n", - " self.gru = tf.keras.layers.GRU(self.units, \n", - " return_sequences=True, \n", - " return_state=True, \n", - " recurrent_activation='sigmoid', \n", - " recurrent_initializer='glorot_uniform')\n", - " self.fc = tf.keras.layers.Dense(vocab_size)\n", - " \n", - " def call(self, x, hidden):\n", - " x = self.embedding(x)\n", - " output, states = self.gru(x, initial_state=hidden)\n", - " output = tf.reshape(output, (-1, output.shape[2]))\n", - " x = self.fc(output)\n", - " return x, states" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 15, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "model = Model(vocab_size, embedding_dim, units, BATCH_SIZE)" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 16, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "optimizer = tf.train.AdamOptimizer()" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 17, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [], - "source": [ - "def loss_function(real, preds):\n", - " return tf.losses.sparse_softmax_cross_entropy(labels=real, logits=preds)" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "markdown", - "metadata": {}, - "source": [ - "### Training" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": null, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [ - { - "name": "stdout", - "output_type": "stream", - "text": [ - "Epoch 1 Batch 0 Loss 4.5975\n", - "Epoch 1 Batch 100 Loss 2.1609\n", - "Epoch 1 Batch 200 Loss 1.9387\n", - "Epoch 1 Loss 1.8163\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1007.0127582550049 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 2 Batch 0 Loss 1.7427\n", - "Epoch 2 Batch 100 Loss 1.7149\n", - "Epoch 2 Batch 200 Loss 1.6851\n", - "Epoch 2 Loss 1.6786\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1009.5401530265808 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 3 Batch 0 Loss 1.5864\n", - "Epoch 3 Batch 100 Loss 1.5735\n", - "Epoch 3 Batch 200 Loss 1.5432\n", - "Epoch 3 Loss 1.5330\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1008.4457356929779 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 4 Batch 0 Loss 1.4756\n", - "Epoch 4 Batch 100 Loss 1.5105\n", - "Epoch 4 Batch 200 Loss 1.4949\n", - "Epoch 4 Loss 1.4980\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1010.7342929840088 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 5 Batch 0 Loss 1.3859\n", - "Epoch 5 Batch 100 Loss 1.4656\n", - "Epoch 5 Batch 200 Loss 1.4051\n", - "Epoch 5 Loss 1.4314\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1012.4246871471405 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 6 Batch 0 Loss 1.3024\n", - "Epoch 6 Batch 100 Loss 1.3982\n", - "Epoch 6 Batch 200 Loss 1.3920\n", - "Epoch 6 Loss 1.4050\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1009.992424249649 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 7 Batch 0 Loss 1.2550\n", - "Epoch 7 Batch 100 Loss 1.3588\n", - "Epoch 7 Batch 200 Loss 1.3480\n", - "Epoch 7 Loss 1.3742\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1009.2752959728241 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 8 Batch 0 Loss 1.1944\n", - "Epoch 8 Batch 100 Loss 1.3088\n", - "Epoch 8 Batch 200 Loss 1.3028\n", - "Epoch 8 Loss 1.3164\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1007.6811842918396 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 9 Batch 0 Loss 1.1755\n", - "Epoch 9 Batch 100 Loss 1.2597\n", - "Epoch 9 Batch 200 Loss 1.2338\n", - "Epoch 9 Loss 1.2662\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1010.1400344371796 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 10 Batch 0 Loss 1.1144\n", - "Epoch 10 Batch 100 Loss 1.2354\n", - "Epoch 10 Batch 200 Loss 1.2604\n", - "Epoch 10 Loss 1.1994\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1014.5306894779205 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 11 Batch 0 Loss 1.0661\n", - "Epoch 11 Batch 100 Loss 1.1259\n", - "Epoch 11 Batch 200 Loss 1.2032\n", - "Epoch 11 Loss 1.2087\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1015.837060213089 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 12 Batch 0 Loss 1.0235\n", - "Epoch 12 Batch 100 Loss 1.0992\n", - "Epoch 12 Batch 200 Loss 1.1357\n", - "Epoch 12 Loss 1.1567\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1012.8789830207825 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 13 Batch 0 Loss 0.9910\n", - "Epoch 13 Batch 100 Loss 1.1073\n", - "Epoch 13 Batch 200 Loss 1.1040\n", - "Epoch 13 Loss 1.1534\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1013.3924562931061 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 14 Batch 0 Loss 0.9614\n", - "Epoch 14 Batch 100 Loss 1.0112\n", - "Epoch 14 Batch 200 Loss 1.1047\n", - "Epoch 14 Loss 1.0997\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1010.0549929141998 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 15 Batch 0 Loss 0.8986\n", - "Epoch 15 Batch 100 Loss 1.0099\n", - "Epoch 15 Batch 200 Loss 1.0629\n", - "Epoch 15 Loss 1.0550\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1010.1194486618042 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 16 Batch 0 Loss 0.8742\n", - "Epoch 16 Batch 100 Loss 0.9966\n", - "Epoch 16 Batch 200 Loss 1.0665\n", - "Epoch 16 Loss 1.0293\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1010.7748596668243 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 17 Batch 0 Loss 0.8696\n", - "Epoch 17 Batch 100 Loss 0.9391\n", - "Epoch 17 Batch 200 Loss 1.0458\n", - "Epoch 17 Loss 0.9827\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1009.4000136852264 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 18 Batch 0 Loss 0.8229\n", - "Epoch 18 Batch 100 Loss 0.9418\n", - "Epoch 18 Batch 200 Loss 0.9846\n", - "Epoch 18 Loss 0.9915\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1018.6969776153564 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 19 Batch 0 Loss 0.8420\n", - "Epoch 19 Batch 100 Loss 0.9518\n", - "Epoch 19 Batch 200 Loss 0.9679\n", - "Epoch 19 Loss 0.9826\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1015.187970161438 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 20 Batch 0 Loss 0.8031\n", - "Epoch 20 Batch 100 Loss 0.9082\n", - "Epoch 20 Batch 200 Loss 0.9899\n", - "Epoch 20 Loss 0.9728\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1015.405241727829 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 21 Batch 0 Loss 0.8155\n", - "Epoch 21 Batch 100 Loss 0.8931\n", - "Epoch 21 Batch 200 Loss 0.9593\n", - "Epoch 21 Loss 0.9730\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1014.1239879131317 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 22 Batch 0 Loss 0.7719\n", - "Epoch 22 Batch 100 Loss 0.9102\n", - "Epoch 22 Batch 200 Loss 0.9354\n", - "Epoch 22 Loss 0.9565\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1012.7351298332214 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 23 Batch 0 Loss 0.7540\n", - "Epoch 23 Batch 100 Loss 0.8891\n", - "Epoch 23 Batch 200 Loss 0.9431\n", - "Epoch 23 Loss 0.9452\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1015.2740514278412 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 24 Batch 0 Loss 0.7557\n", - "Epoch 24 Batch 100 Loss 0.8679\n", - "Epoch 24 Batch 200 Loss 0.9325\n", - "Epoch 24 Loss 0.9061\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1013.387583732605 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 25 Batch 0 Loss 0.7418\n", - "Epoch 25 Batch 100 Loss 0.8140\n", - "Epoch 25 Batch 200 Loss 0.8961\n", - "Epoch 25 Loss 0.9026\n", - "Time taken for 1 epoch 1012.0506448745728 sec\n", - "\n", - "Epoch 26 Batch 0 Loss 0.7547\n", - "Epoch 26 Batch 100 Loss 0.8344\n" - ] - } - ], - "source": [ - "n_epochs = 30\n", - "\n", - "for epoch in range(n_epochs):\n", - " start = time.time()\n", - " hidden = model.reset_states() # initializes the hidden state at the start of every epoch\n", - " \n", - " for (batch, (inp, target)) in enumerate(dataset):\n", - " with tf.GradientTape() as tape:\n", - " predictions, hidden = model(inp, hidden) # feeds the hidden state back into the model\n", - " target = tf.reshape(target, (-1, )) # reshapes for the loss function\n", - " loss = loss_function(target, predictions)\n", - " \n", - " grads = tape.gradient(loss, model.variables)\n", - " optimizer.apply_gradients(zip(grads, model.variables), global_step=tf.train.get_or_create_global_step())\n", - "\n", - " if batch % 100 == 0:\n", - " print ('Epoch {} Batch {} Loss {:.4f}'.format(epoch + 1, batch, loss))\n", - " \n", - " print ('Epoch {} Loss {:.4f}'.format(epoch + 1, loss))\n", - " print('Time taken for 1 epoch {} sec\\n'.format(time.time() - start))" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "markdown", - "metadata": {}, - "source": [ - " ...\n", - " \n", - "The model was trained on Paperspace. 5 epochs are missing due to an average Internet connecton.\n", - "\n", - "Anyway, it is enough to generate some text with the model.\n", - "\n", - "### Text generation" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "code", - "execution_count": 38, - "metadata": {}, - "outputs": [ - { - "name": "stdout", - "output_type": "stream", - "text": [ - "The childhood rose that we may do,\n", - "And now the country seat her shall he died,\n", - " And her shadow of regret?\n", - "\n", - "If you can dress your head and stone be forget--\n", - " That were coming home from the corner of her eye.\n", - "\n", - "He did one that ever one to the summer of the rain!\n", - "\n", - "She was wanting from the pine,\n", - " And the song of his lower lay,\n", - "While I am sad and sent the truest,\n", - " And one clothe lads that waits\n", - " Of the black men doth clouds the stars,\n", - " And the stars have broken the stars\n", - " Stood on the brook, the bridge is passing through the starry skies.\n", - "\n", - " When the sun was clear, and the thing to be true\n", - " A blaze in the stream of the steed,\n", - " And the stars have broken the stairs,\n", - " And the clearing and the long bright morning stair,\n", - " And one that makes the dark bells they seemed to say:\n", - " \"But one song of the crowd.\n", - " The stars come and the straw,\n", - " And cold and still their welcome home.\n", - "\n", - " All the cold work that has lured the sea,\n", - " And the clock stood calm and sti\n" - ] - } - ], - "source": [ - "num_generate = 1000 # number of characters to generate\n", - "start_string = 'The child' # beginning of the generated text. TODO: try start_string = ' '\n", - "\n", - "input_eval = [char2idx[s] for s in start_string] # converts start_string to numbers the model understands\n", - "input_eval = tf.expand_dims(input_eval, 0) # \n", - "\n", - "text_generated = ''\n", - "\n", - "temperature = 0.97 # the greater, the closer to an observation in the corpus\n", - "\n", - "hidden = [tf.zeros((1, units))]\n", - "for i in range(num_generate):\n", - " predictions, hidden = model(input_eval, hidden) # predictions holds the probabily for each character to be most adequate continuation\n", - "\n", - " predictions = predictions / temperature # alters characters' probabilities to be picked (but keeps the order)\n", - " predicted_id = tf.multinomial(tf.exp(predictions), num_samples=1)[0][0].numpy() # picks the next character for the generated text\n", - " \n", - " input_eval = tf.expand_dims([predicted_id], 0)\n", - " text_generated += idx2char[predicted_id] # appends\n", - "\n", - "print (start_string + text_generated)" - ] - }, - { - "cell_type": "markdown", - "metadata": {}, - "source": [ - "## Conclusion\n", - "\n", - "That's promising:\n", - "* It spells words correctly\n", - "* There is some structure (line breaks).\n", - "* Found a punctation rule\n", - "\n", - "Easy-to-fix issue: indents. The corpus itself is inconsitent for that regard. The fact that the model mimics the indents is in fact a good news.\n", - "\n", - "Harder-to-fix issue: Sentences make little sense. Maybe further training will be enough. Also, playing with hyperparameters will help." - ] - } - ], - "metadata": { - "kernelspec": { - "display_name": "Python 3", - "language": "python", - "name": "python3" - }, - "language_info": { - "codemirror_mode": { - "name": "ipython", - "version": 3 - }, - "file_extension": ".py", - "mimetype": "text/x-python", - "name": "python", - "nbconvert_exporter": "python", - "pygments_lexer": "ipython3", - "version": "3.6.3" - } - }, - "nbformat": 4, - "nbformat_minor": 2 -} diff --git a/poem_generator.py b/poem_generator.py deleted file mode 100644 index 0545251..0000000 --- a/poem_generator.py +++ /dev/null @@ -1,114 +0,0 @@ -import tensorflow as tf # version 1.9 or above -tf.enable_eager_execution() # Execution of code as it runs in the notebook. Normally, TensorFlow looks up the whole code before execution for efficiency. - -import numpy as np -import re -import random -import unidecode -import time - - -path_to_file = 'poem_corpus.txt' -text = unidecode.unidecode(open(path_to_file).read()) - -unique = sorted(set(text)) # unique contains all the unique characters in the corpus - -char2idx = {u:i for i, u in enumerate(unique)} # maps characters to indexes -idx2char = {i:u for i, u in enumerate(unique)} # maps indexes to characters - -# Hyperparameters -max_length = 100 # Maximum length sentence we want per input in the network -vocab_size = len(unique) -embedding_dim = 256 # number of 'meaningful' features to learn. Ex: ['queen', 'king', 'man', 'woman'] has a least 2 embedding dimension: royalty and gender. -units = 1024 # In keras: number of output of a sequence. In short it rem -BATCH_SIZE = 64 -BUFFER_SIZE = 10000 - - -input_text = [] -target_text = [] - -for f in range(0, len(text) - max_length, max_length): - inps = text[f : f + max_length] - targ = text[f + 1 : f + 1 + max_length] - input_text.append([char2idx[i] for i in inps]) - target_text.append([char2idx[t] for t in targ]) - -dataset = tf.data.Dataset.from_tensor_slices((input_text, target_text)).shuffle(BUFFER_SIZE) -dataset = dataset.apply(tf.contrib.data.batch_and_drop_remainder(BATCH_SIZE)) - - -class Model(tf.keras.Model): - def __init__(self, vocab_size, embedding_dim, units, batch_size): - super(Model, self).__init__() - self.units = units - self.batch_sz = batch_size - self.embedding = tf.keras.layers.Embedding(vocab_size, embedding_dim) - if tf.test.is_gpu_available(): - self.gru = tf.keras.layers.CuDNNGRU(self.units, return_sequences=True, return_state=True, recurrent_initializer='glorot_uniform') - else: - self.gru = tf.keras.layers.GRU(self.units, return_sequences=True, return_state=True, recurrent_activation='sigmoid', recurrent_initializer='glorot_uniform') - self.fc = tf.keras.layers.Dense(vocab_size) - - def call(self, x, hidden): - x = self.embedding(x) - output, states = self.gru(x, initial_state=hidden) - output = tf.reshape(output, (-1, output.shape[2])) - x = self.fc(output) - return x, states - -model = Model(vocab_size, embedding_dim, units, BATCH_SIZE) - -optimizer = tf.train.AdamOptimizer() - -# using sparse_softmax_cross_entropy so that we don't have to create one-hot vectors -def loss_function(real, preds): - return tf.losses.sparse_softmax_cross_entropy(labels=real, logits=preds) - - -# Training step - -EPOCHS = 30 - -for epoch in range(EPOCHS): - start = time.time() - hidden = model.reset_states() - for (batch, (inp, target)) in enumerate(dataset): - with tf.GradientTape() as tape: - predictions, hidden = model(inp, hidden) - target = tf.reshape(target, (-1,)) - loss = loss_function(target, predictions) - - grads = tape.gradient(loss, model.variables) - optimizer.apply_gradients(zip(grads, model.variables), global_step=tf.train.get_or_create_global_step()) - - if batch % 100 == 0: - print ('Epoch {} Batch {} Loss {:.4f}'.format(epoch + 1, batch, loss)) - - print ('Epoch {} Loss {:.4f}'.format(epoch + 1, loss)) - print('Time taken for 1 epoch {} sec\n'.format(time.time() - start)) - - -# Evaluation step(generating text using the model learned) - -num_generate = 1000 # number of characters to generate -start_string = 'The child' # beginning of the generated text. TODO: try start_string = ' ' - -input_eval = [char2idx[s] for s in start_string] # converts start_string to numbers the model understands -input_eval = tf.expand_dims(input_eval, 0) # - -text_generated = '' - -temperature = 0.97 # the greater, the closer to an observation in the corpus - -hidden = [tf.zeros((1, units))] -for i in range(num_generate): - predictions, hidden = model(input_eval, hidden) # predictions holds the probabily for each character to be most adequate continuation - - predictions = predictions / temperature # alters characters' probabilities to be picked (but keeps the order) - predicted_id = tf.multinomial(tf.exp(predictions), num_samples=1)[0][0].numpy() # picks the next character for the generated text - - input_eval = tf.expand_dims([predicted_id], 0) - text_generated += idx2char[predicted_id] - -print (start_string + text_generated) diff --git a/rhyme_generator.py b/rhyme_generator.py deleted file mode 100644 index 511f11f..0000000 --- a/rhyme_generator.py +++ /dev/null @@ -1,105 +0,0 @@ -from __future__ import print_function -from keras.callbacks import LambdaCallback -from keras.models import Sequential -from keras.layers import Dense -from keras.layers import LSTM -from keras.optimizers import RMSprop -from keras.utils.data_utils import get_file -import numpy as np -import random -import sys -import io - - -path = 'rhymes.txt' -with open(path, encoding='utf-8') as f: - text = f.read().lower() - -text = text.split() -chars = sorted(list(set(text))) # vocabulary of rhymes in the corpus - - -# transform words into integer -char_indices = dict((c, i) for i, c in enumerate(chars)) -indices_char = dict((i, c) for i, c in enumerate(chars)) - -maxlen = 40 -step = 1 -sentences = [] -next_chars = [] - - -# creating input and output -for i in range(0, len(text) - maxlen, step): - sentences.append(text[i: i + maxlen]) - next_chars.append(text[i + maxlen]) - - -print('Vectorization...') -x = np.zeros((len(sentences), maxlen, len(chars)), dtype=np.bool) -y = np.zeros((len(sentences), len(chars)), dtype=np.bool) -for i, sentence in enumerate(sentences): - for t, char in enumerate(sentence): - x[i, t, char_indices[char]] = 1 - y[i, char_indices[next_chars[i]]] = 1 - - -# build the LSTM model -print('Build model...') -model = Sequential() -model.add(LSTM(128, input_shape=(maxlen, len(chars)))) -model.add(Dense(len(chars), activation='softmax')) - -optimizer = RMSprop(lr=0.01) -model.compile(loss='categorical_crossentropy', optimizer=optimizer) - - -def sample(preds, temperature=1.0): - # Generates the next word - preds = np.asarray(preds).astype('float64') - preds = np.log(preds) / temperature - exp_preds = np.exp(preds) - preds = exp_preds / np.sum(exp_preds) - probas = np.random.multinomial(1, preds, 1) - return np.argmax(probas) - - -def on_epoch_end(epoch, _): - # Function invoked at end of each epoch. Prints generated text. - if epoch % 5 == 0: - print() - print('----- Generating text after Epoch: {}'.format(epoch + 1)) - - start_index = random.randint(0, len(text) - maxlen - 1) - for diversity in [0.2, 0.5, 1.0, 1.2]: - print('----- diversity:', diversity) - - generated = [rhyme] - sentence = text[start_index: start_index + maxlen] - generated += [sentence] - print('----- Generating from: "{}"'.format(sentence)) - sys.stdout.write("{}".format(generated)) - - for i in range(40): - x_pred = np.zeros((1, maxlen, len(chars))) - for t, char in enumerate(sentence): - x_pred[0, t, char_indices[char]] = 1. - - preds = model.predict(x_pred, verbose=0)[0] - next_index = sample(preds, diversity) - next_char = indices_char[next_index] - - generated += [next_char] - sentence = sentence[1:] + [next_char] - - sys.stdout.write('{}'.format([next_char])) - sys.stdout.flush() - print() - -print_callback = LambdaCallback(on_epoch_end=on_epoch_end) - -model.fit(x, y, - batch_size=128, - epochs=20, -callbacks=[print_callback]) - diff --git a/rhymes.txt b/rhymes.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ab7cfb5..0000000 --- a/rhymes.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,34517 +0,0 @@ -men -be -sea -refrain -day -say -born -star -war -morn -birth -mirth -tree -men -again -thee -earth -birth -now -low -fell -so -vain -well -tree -fell -leaves -me -above -melody -tree -low -evermore -woe -land -glee -night -sea -land -night -appeared -light -lonely -day -brightness -away -raiment -night -darkness -light -Envy -woe -companion -fro -gliding -pain -forever -again -floating -on -succession -gone -recalling -woe -fleeting -go -us -night -follow -bright -passing -be -sorrow -eternity -pen -convey -would -to-day -flow -flowing -fast -going -me -go -future -woe -picture -destiny -raptures -me -raving -high -safely -nigh -upward -form -me -storm -raptures -nigh -fancies -by -threshold -wall -windows -hall -it -more -ones -door -voices -dead -enemies -head -ruin -floor -voices -evermore -it -tread -hallowed -dead -lonely -dwell -people -tell -resting -bed -kingdom -dead -wind -wild -fancies -mild -lost -wind -phantoms -behind -spirits -night -groaning -flight -fancies -Evermore -Hades -roar -wind -quiver -lost -forever -valley -green -grasses -seen -me -day -spirit -way -skyward -there -onward -tear -battle -woe -rattle -foe -listens -on -parents -gone -woods -hair -log -there -o’er -sway -locks -gray -find -field -store -yield -friend -him -cheer -grim -sings -stream -past -dream -along -free -tongue -cheerily -too -find -leave -behind -sit -love -below -above -love -know -paradise -below -haunts -high -water-wheel -fly -cloaks -house -turn -mouse -fit -bell -tall -knell -way -vines -dirt -lines -sea -blue -mariner -two -overhead -sea -become -glee -aghast -eyes -wings -skies -by -now -breath -plow -mariners -before -again -more -ship -roar -again -more -find -coast -tar -boast -Africa -home -zone -roam -pole -there -cold -bare -sides -south -go -mouth -spring -stand -boughs -land -about -sky -go -around -ev’rywhere -too -scare -trees -man -him -began -Bethlehem -sing -Christ -king -Rome -high -earth -die -years -day -rise -away -Washington -fought -bonds,” -thought -history -light -heart -fright -seen -eye -men -die -deed -vain -face -pain -known -me -last -free -along -evermore -you -door -story -reign -demon -again -ages -more -ocean -shore -ocean -constant -fly -future -been -transgressions -sin -odors -sweet -perfume -greet -speeding -leaves -farmer -sheaves -smithy -clear -irons -hear -speeding -fly -floating -“good-bye.” -crown -king -around -thing -word -pay -cut -to-day.” -sent -head -right -bled -crown -save -to -grave -fight -fly -fate -die -men -line -death -divine -joy -around -noise -sound -gone -clay -gone -day -comes -earth -between -birth -night -tent -light -bent -they -fight -lie -light -round -prayer -kept -there -said -scene -by -mien -array -dead -hands -overhead -bright -sword -those -word -all -high -there -buy -forth -fray -there -day -came -bright -men -sight -pierced -ground -noise -sound -fell -blood -shout -rood!” -go -sail -still -gale -board -woe -right -go -green -breast -don -rest -ship -woe -right -go -Memory -land -clear -hand -stairway -gold -them -cold -Memory -there -evermore -fair -pictures -hand -near -stand -picture -upon -time -gone -Memory -high -me -buy -clear -throw -near -go -scene -fly -still -by -come -pain -lives -again -sky -on -night -gone -land -river -clouds -forever -sky -play -land -away -sad -gray -land -away -last -past -sleep -keep -away -day -close -repose -away -day?” -spirits -inherit -say -day?” -close -repose -away -day?” -wings -home -shore -foam -high -gale -torn -sail -deep -fast -sea -blast -morn -o’er -still -shore -life -roll -lost -soul -roll -within -around -sin -clime -alone -sight -stone -off -away -stands -day -spot -stand -clime -land -eyes -shore -been -evermore -bonds -brought -parks -thought -haunts -be -lie -sea -plains -way -stood -pay -gone -there -race -fair -ground -air 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-forlorn -travel-worn -spray -say -sigh -see -me -tear -near -wight -night -round -hum -home -least -bound -rise -skies -round -true -God -clod -view -seen -Blenheim -our -1843 -evening -done -door -sun -green -Wilhelmine -Peterkin -round -rivulet -found -found -round -boy -by -head -sigh -hereabout -plow -out -he -cries -up -eyes -for -for -out -he -by -ground -fly -fled -head -wide -then -died -be -victory -won -here -sun -be -victory -Eugene -Wilhelmine -win -Peterkin -to -most -a -the -would -Wordsworth -hears -fox -eyes -rocks -discern -fern -seen -green -breed -shy -thinks -cry -sight -height -ear -here -recess -snow -front -below -Helvellyn -dwelling -land -hand -fish -cheer -croak -austere -cloud -shroud -blast -past -fast -while -way -stones -may -found -ground -sigh -history -rocks -fear -mind -clear -name -came -day -way -sake -tell -words -well -nigh -cry -space -place -day -died -spot -side -time -sublime -great -estimate -each -"The -one -mansions -(1809-94 -feign -main -flings -wings -sings -bare -hair -unfurl -pearl -cell -dwell -shell -revealed -unsealed -toil -coil -grew -new -through -door -more -thee -sea -forlorn -born -horn -rings -sings -soul -roll -past -last -vast -free -sea -noblest -to -before -also -has -greatest -written -star -me -bar -sea -asleep -foam -deep -home -bell -dark -farewell -embark -Place -far -face -bar -hero -command -(1865 -way -roam -day -Home -tail -Overland-Mail -in -hill -chin -bill -swim -cliff -him -"if -fail -Overland-Mail -fir -crest -spur -chest -vale -Overland-Mail -road -below -abode -aglow -hail -Overland-Mail -genius -when -(1771-1832 -Dhu -Donuil -anew -Conuil -away -summons -war-array -commons -and -rocky -pennon -Inverlochy -and -one -and -one -herd -shelter -uninterr'd -altar -steer -barges -gear -targes -when -rended -when -stranded -come -faster -groom -master -come -gather -plume -heather -blades -set -Dhu -onset -This -die -tent -hour -bent -power -bore -conqueror -heard -ring -king -wing -bird -shades -band -blades -hand -stood -blood -day -air -there -dare -they -awoke -last -shriek -smoke -sabre-stroke -fast -mountain-cloud -loud -band -fires -sires -land -well -slain -fell -vein -saw -hurrah -won -close -repose -sun -Death -feels -breath -seals -broke -stroke -form -storm -warm -wine -tear -bier -fear -thine -sword -free -word -heard -be -wrought -blood-bought -then -light -sight -men -hand -land -cry -nigh -Genoese -palm -balm -seas -brave -time -grave -clime -thee -plume -tree -pageantry -tomb -one -gone -wreathed -breathed -bells -tells -said -cottage-bed -foe -blow -fears -years -tears -boys -cheek -speak -joys -birth -hearth -sigh -Fame's -names -die -We -grow -night -pillow -fight -billow -by -cherished -eye -perished -look -spoken -shook -broken -slew -eagle -anew -beagle -again -routed -Spain -shouted -snows -mountain -flows -fountain -streams -dwelling -dreams -quelling -won -battle -overrun -rattle -day -story -clay -rest -blest -cold -mould -sod -trod -rung -sung -gray -clay -repair -there -lesson -by -(1863 -off -comes -drums -sky -off -by -shines -lines -off -fly -by -great -State -ships -lips -peace -increase -law -awe -strong -wrong -honour,--all -fall -off -comes -drums -high -off -by -low -snow -flow -rapidly -sight -night -light -scenery -array'd -battle-blade -neigh'd -revelry -riven -driven -Heaven -artillery -glow -snow -flow -rapidly -dun -Hun -canopy -brave -grave -wave -chivalry -meet -winding-sheet -feet -sepulcher -home -bloom -day -floor -bright -door -good-night -lady -to-day -home -away -coon -shore -moon -door -heart -delight -part -good-night -bend -go -end -grow -load -light -road -good-night -lady -to-day -home -away -Ribber -away -ebber -stay -creation -roam -plantation -home -dreary -roam -weary -home -wandered -young -squandered -sung -brudder -mudder -die -bushes -love -rushes -rove -a-humming -comb -tumming -home -dreary -roam -weary -home -an -composition -_Hesperus -sea -daughter -company -fairy-flax -day -buds -May -helm -mouth -blow -south -sailor -Main -hurricane -see -pipe -he -wind -northeast -brine -yeast -amain -strength -steed -length -so -gale -blow -coat -blast -spar -mast -be -sea -be -sea -be -word -he -stark -skies -snow -eyes -prayed -be -wave -Galilee -drear -snow -swept -Woe -between -land -surf -sea-sand -bows -wreck -crew -deck -waves -wool -side -bull -ice -board -sank -roared -sea-beach -aghast -fair -mast -breast -eyes -sea-weed -rise -_Hesperus -snow -this -Woe -Stirling -the -monument -away -bled -led -bed -victorie -hour -lower -power -slaverie -knave -grave -slave -flee -law -draw -fa -me -pains -chains -veins -free -low -foe -blow -die -Lassie -board -beings -the -for -the -voyagers -(1774-1843 -sea -be -motion -ocean -shock -Rock -fell -Bell -Aberbrothok -Rock -swung -rung -swell -Bell -Rock -Aberbrothok -gay -day -round -sound -seen -green -deck -speck -spring -sing -excess -wickedness -float -boat -Rock -Aberbrothok -row -go -boat -float -sound -around -Rock -Aberbrothok -away -day -store -shore -sky -high -day -away -stand -land -soon -moon -shore -Bell -strong -along -shock -hair -despair -side -tide -fear -hear -Bell -knell -the -in -found -at -their -and -(1819-91 -shore -cover -roar -over -by -it -dry -it -tan -it -fisherman -it -stay -brother -estray -other -dry -sonnet -Mercury -it -dimension -sings -invention -strained -hovered -gained -discovered -lies -forsaken -Mercury's -waken -we -(1835-98 -day -play -seed -grew -flew -indeed -said -dead -hand -understand -reply -me -be -chrysalis -thing -wing -unfold -fly -by -gold -eyes -surprise -shell -spread -dead -flown -fly -why -alone -this -chrysalis -delight -flight -story -Robert -fittest -valuable -(1759-96 -poverty -that -by -that -that -that -stamp -that -dine -that -wine -that -that -that -poor -that -lord -that -word -that -that -that -mind -that -knight -that -might -that -that -that -worth -that -may -that -earth -that -that -that -o'er -that -good -and -He -judgments -(1844 -night -craft -on -laughed -she -water -room -daughter -all -times -Love -rhymes -this -water -Lloyds -daughter -too -moon -socks -spoon -nurse -water -ink -daughter -schoolmate -compared -by -(1809-92 -flow -river -go -forever -out -sailing -trout -grayling -plots -covers -forget-me-nots -lovers -glance -swallows -dance -shallows -stars -wildernesses -bars -cresses -flow -river -go -forever -explanation -pays -_Clampherdown -clean -close -arose -marine -ton -beside -sea -free -tide -_Clampherdown -light -gun -run -fight -miles -cork -fired -tired -stalk -below -again -so -mile -duck -true -blue -stuck -below -ram -jam -go -_Clampherdown -roll -fire -ire -Pole -we -stock -clock -see -beam -run -gun -steam -_Clampherdown -armour-belt -bow -sow -Nordenfeldt -swift -sea -be -drift -_Clampherdown -tide -north -forth -side -sword -bow -now -board -_Clampherdown -men -delight -fight -pen -end -hold -fleet -feet -old -_Clampherdown -side -steel -conger-eel -tide -_Clampherdown -sea -foe -long-ago -be -friends -(1788-1824 -fold -gold -sea -Galilee -green -seen -blown -strown -blast -passed -chill -still -wide -pride -turf -surf -pale -mail -alone -unblown -wail -Baal -sword -Lord -remember -born -sun -morn -soon -day -night -away -remember -white -lily-cups -light -built -set -birthday -yet -remember -swing -fresh -wing -then -now -cool -brow -remember -high -tops -sky -ignorance -joy -Heaven -boy -grass -lane -pass -again -hill -pace -still -face -said -go -dead -foe -done -meadow-swamp -gun -damp -wheat -grim -feet -him -white -apple-bloom -night -home -farm -lain -arm -again -late -done -gate -one -Bess -wind -grass -behind -air -blue -hair -knew -yawn -again -dawn -wane -eyes -dumb -skies -home -smiled -to -a -it -child -smiled -grim -him -me -thee -sea -evermore -shore -day -play -played -made -she -he -me -be -sea -child -beguiled -he -sea -grim -him -form -warm -more -shore -child -smiled -sea -he -shore -evermore -deep -sleep -be -child -beguiled -grim -him -me -thee -more -shore -wild -child -smiled -sea -me -he -smiled -fly -conveyed -day -away -maid -much -unfold -touch -gold -be -Immortality -has -It -Selleck -Osborne -East -rich -least -which -youth -suit -truth -repute -spirit -sense -diffidence -merit -wine -merry -fine -secretary -livelihood -sew -make -you -bound -round -low -made -trade -mad -low -know -brow -you -interest -point -wet -yet -ground -poor -door -store -tell -well -day -delay -repair -there -hear -near -hold -old -more -door -call -all -forlorn -corn -he -merrily -man -again -hall -wall -came -frame -farm -alarm -corn -presently -be -yesterday -steep -deep -away -delay -care -there -eyes -arise -flame -came -cat -that -fear -near -deep -steep -bent -sent -score -more -before -yore -fell -tell -near -hear -door -pour -floor -before -go -stones -bones -limb -him -On -our -own -drawn -the -greatest -California -Azores -Hercules -shores -seas -pray -gone -say -weak -spray -cheek -dawn -blow -said -dead -way -gone -say -on -mate -wait -bite -word -gone -sword -deck -night -speck -light -unfurled -dawn -world -on -is -of -is -entire -lines -turn -intent -(1819-91 -earth -ago -worth -sow -tortoise-shell -drew -swell -dew -had -divine -bad -wine -soothed -half-sleep -smoothed -sheep -enough -so -rough -low -youth -saw -truth -law -all -hour -fall -flower -things -use -springs -profuse -wise -caught -eyes -good-for-naught -gone -dim -upon -him -grew -trod -knew -god -They -this -not -(1812-89 -he -three -rest -abreast -pace -place -tight -right -bit -whit -clear -see -be -half-chime -time -sun -one -past -last -away -spray -back -track -glance -askance -anon -on -spur -her -wheeze -knees -flank -sank -sky -laugh -white -sight -stone -weight -fate -brim -rim -fall -all -ear -peer -good -stood -round -ground -mine -wine -consent -Ghent -popular -of -and -(1791-1823 -note -hurried -shot -buried -night -turning -light -burning -breast -him -rest -him -said -sorrow -dead -morrow -bed -pillow -head -billow -gone -him -on -him -done -retiring -gun -firing -down -gory -stone -glory -he -times -night -then -bright -men -when -swell -again -marriage-bell -knell -wind -street -unconfined -meet -feet -more -repeat -before -roar -fro -distress -ago -loveliness -press -sighs -guess -eyes -rise -steed -car -speed -war -afar -drum -star -dumb -come -leaves -pass -grieves -brave--alas -grass -grow -mass -foe -low -life -gay -strife -day -array -rent -clay -pent -blent -"King -but -certain -little -(1800-59 -are -Navarre -dance -pleasant -France -waters -daughters -joy -annoy -war -Navarre -day -array -peers -spears -land -hand -flood -blood -war -Navarre -drest -crest -eye -high -wing -King -fray -war -Navarre -din -culverin -plain -Almayne -France -lance -rest -crest -star -Navarre -rein -slain -gale -mail -van -foe -go -war -Navarre -to-day -prey -fight -white -ta'en -Lorraine -know -woe -war -Navarre -Lucerne -return -pistoles -souls -bright -to-night -slave -brave -are -Navarre -"true -(1784-1859 -sport -court -pride -sighed -show -below -jaws -wind -paws -another -smother -air -there -dame -same -be -me -divine -mine -look'd -smiled -wild -place -face -sat -but -Southey -country -seen -west-country -Keyne -beside -grow -above -below -Keyne -eye -travelling -sky -clear -he -bank -tree -town -pail -it -hail -day -life -been -life -Keyne -reply -why -well -her -spell -wife -he -life -then -Keyne -again -said -spake -head -porch -me -church -years -Anonymous -ammonite -strife -boat -life -brim -furl -sea-deep -pearl -this -clime -life -clime -smiles -alloy -balm -joy -bay -deep -bank -sleep -past -caves -pride -graves -strand -glee -cells -sea -past -shore -death -more -prow -strays -creek -days -sea -shore -lost -more -meet -strand -part -land -survey -dispute -sea -brute -charms -face -alarms -place -reach -alone -speech -own -plain -see -man -me -Love -man -dove -again -assuage -truth -age -youth -sport -shore -report -more -send -me -friend -see -mind -flight -behind -light -land -there -hand -despair -nest -lair -rest -repair -place -thought -grace -lot -is -is -well -for -to -the -more -America -England -England -stand -trees -land -bound -gleam -sound -stream -England -night -love -light -song -told -along -old -England -bowers -quietness -hours -chime -morn -time -born -England -plains -brooks -fanes -peep -leaves -sleep -eaves -England -hall -reared -wall -groves -sod -loves -God -the -Macaulay -Clusium -swore -Tarquin -more -it -trysting-day -forth -north -array -north -fast -cottage -blast -Etruscan -home -Clusium -Rome -footmen -amain -market-place -plain -hamlet -pine -crest -Apennine -Arretium -reap -Umbro -sheep -Luna -foam -girls -Rome -prophets -land -Porsena -stand -Thirty -o'er -white -yore -Thirty -given -Heaven -glory -dome -altars -Rome -city -men -thousand -ten -Sutrium -array -Porsena -trysting-day -armies -eye -Roman -ally -following -came -Mamilius -name -Tiber -affright -champaign -flight -city -ways -see -days -Tarpeian -spy -villages -sky -City -day -came -dismay -westward -bands -dovecot -stands -Ostia -plain -Janiculum -slain -Senate -bold -beat -told -Consul -all -gowns -wall -standing -Gate -guess -debate -roundly -lost -town -flying -fear -here -westward -eye -dust -sky -nearer -come -loud -cloud -proud -hum -plainly -appears -right -light -bright -spears -plainly -line -banners -shine -Clusium -all -Umbrian -Gaul -standard -war -Clusium -car -Mamilius -name -Sextus -shame -Sextus -foes -firmament -arose -woman -hissed -curses -fist -sad -low -wall -foe -down -bridge -town -Horatius -Gate -late -better -odds -fathers -gods -rest -nurses -breast -maidens -flame -Sextus -shame -may -me -play -thousand -three -hand -me -Lartius -he -hand -thee -Herminius -he -thee -array -Three -quarrel -gold -life -old -tightening -backs -man -ax -Commons -crow -above -below -army -behold -light -bright -gold -sounded -glee -tread -spread -head -Three -silent -foes -laughter -rose -spurring -array -drew -flew -way -Tifernum -Vines -slaves -mines -Clusium -war -powers -towers -lowers -Nar -Aunus -beneath -Seius -teeth -Horatius -thrust -arms -dust -Falerii -Three -Urgo -sea -Volsinium -boar -den -fen -men -shore -Aruns -low -Lausulus -blow -pale -mark -bark -fly -spy -sail -laughter -foes -clamour -rose -entrance -array -forth -way -Astur -divide -Luna -stride -shoulders -shield -brand -wield -Romans -high -Tuscans -eye -litter -bay -follow -way -broadsword -height -Horatius -might -Horatius -blow -nigh -thigh -cry -flow -Herminius -space -wounds -face -helmet -sped -out -head -Luna -stroke -Alvernus -oak -forest -spread -low -head -Horatius -heel -amain -steel -here -next -cheer -challenge -ran -dread -van -prowess -race -noblest -place -noblest -see -corpses -Three -entrance -stood -unaware -hare -lair -bear -blood -foremost -attack -"Forward -"Back -forward -array -steel -reel -peal -away -moment -crowd -Three -loud -home -away -Rome -city -dead -fury -dread -hatred -way -blood -lay -lever -plied -tottering -tide -all -fall -Lartius -back -feet -crack -faces -shore -alone -more -thunder -beam -wreck -stream -triumph -Rome -tops -foam -unbroken -rein -hard -mane -bounded -free -career -pier -sea -Horatius -mind -before -behind -face -deigning -see -Porsena -he -Palatinus -home -river -Rome -pray -arms -day -sheathed -side -back -tide -sorrow -bank -surprise -eyes -sank -surges -appear -cry -Tuscany -cheer -current -rain -flowing -pain -armour -blows -sinking -rose -swimmer -case -flood -place -bravely -within -Tiber -chin -day -town -arms -before -bottom -stands -Fathers -hands -clapping -loud -Gate -crowd -land -right -oxen -night -image -high -day -lie -Comitium -see -harness -knee -written -gold -bridge -old -stirring -Rome -them -home -Juno -bold -well -old -winter -blow -wolves -snow -cottage -din -Algidus -within -opened -lit -embers -spit -circle -close -baskets -bows -armour -plume -merrily -loom -laughter -told -bridge -old -a -Cullen -(1794-1878 -apple-tree -spade -made -there -care -tenderly -feet -sheet -apple-tree -apple-tree -days -sprays -breast -nest -lea -hour -shower -apple-tree -apple-tree -springs -wings -pours -doors -bee -room -bloom -apple-tree -apple-tree -June -noon -by -sky -glee -grass -pass -apple-tree -apple-tree -bright -night -mirth -hearth -see -vine -line -apple-tree -apple-tree -star -afar -view -grew -sea -day -play -apple-tree -apple-tree -bloom -gloom -lower -shower -we -lie -sigh -apple-tree -apple-tree -throw -below -will -still -be -tears -years -apple-tree -day -say -stem -them -times -apple-tree -On -is -written -June -days -tune -lays -listen -glisten -might -towers -light -flowers -seen -valleys -green -chalice -mean -palace -sun -leaves -o'errun -receives -wings -sings -nest -best -the -dawn -him -numbers -dream -slumbers -seem -earnest -goal -returnest -soul -sorrow -way -to-morrow -to-day -fleeting -brave -beating -grave -battle -Life -cattle -strife -pleasant -dead -Present -o'erhead -us -sublime -us -time -another -main -brother -again -doing -fate -pursuing -wait -specimen -coast -invaluable -sea -me -shells -sea-mells -soul -roll -dole -sailing -sea -thee -dead -ahead -find -behind -wind -sailing -taught -will -thought -skill -are -death -care -breath -experience -hospitality -home -there -elsewhere -Home -Home -vain -again -call -all -Home -Home -smile -beguile -roam -Home -Home -Home -care -there -roam -Home -Home -Home -singing -search -upspringing -perch -green -beat -serene -been -feet -sang -never -value -pleasures -tree -bough -me -now -cot -stand -not -tree -renown -sea -down -stroke -ties -oak -skies -boy -shade -joy -played -here -hand -tear -stand -cling -friend -sing -bend -brave -spot -save -not -security -eventide -abide -flee -me -day -away -see -me -mental -to -McKinley -gloom -on -home -on -see -me -Thou -on -now -on -fears -years -still -on -till -gone -smile -while -alone -companions -gone -kindred -nigh -blushes -sigh -one -stem -sleeping -them -scatter -bed -garden -dead -follow -decay -circle -away -withered -flown -inhabit -alone -Douglas -bonnie -dew -Laurie -true -true -be -Laurie -dee -snawdrift -swan -fairest -on -on -e'e -Laurie -dee -lying -feet -sighing -sweet -sweet -me -Laurie -dee -State -other -(1807-82 -State -great -fears -years -fate -keel -steel -rope -beat -heat -hope -shock -gale -roar -shore -sea -thee -tears -fears -thee -"The -State -ought -celebrations -find -our -it -thee -liberty -sing -died -pride -side -ring -thee -free -love -rills -hills -thrills -above -breeze -trees -song -awake -partake -break -prolong -Thee -liberty -sing -bright -light -might -King -America -high -coast -sky -tossed -dark -o'er -bark -shore -comes -came -drums -fame -come -fear -gloom -cheer -sang -sea -rang -free -soared -foam -roared -home -hair -band -there -land -eye -truth -high -youth -afar -mine -war -shrine -ground -trod -found -God -running -justifiable -story -back -discussed -(1809-92 -land -afternoon -swoon -dream -moon -stream -seem -smoke -go -broke -below -flow -mountain-tops -snow -drops -copse -adown -dale -down -vale -galingale -same -pale -flame -came -stem -gave -them -wave -rave -spake -grave -awake -make -sand -shore -Fatherland -evermore -oar -foam -more -home -roam -"Sir -American -the -grows -Europe -moly -isle -solely -wile -chalice -malice -staff -laugh -bear -rare -portal -immortal -Witch -niche -will -still -perverse -nurse -mark -dark -herb -curb -be -Integrity -moly -isle -solely -wile -Mrs -"Foundation -them -twining -in -heap -asleep -elf -himself -up -cup -him -him -he -glee -wings -heart-strings -bed -head -see -bee -wild -child -cries -flies -do -thing -wing -know -so -while -smile -much -touch -be -thee -played -paid -arrows -sparrows -throws -rose -how -brow -chin -win -eyes -rise -thee -me -a -ought -her -was -will -interfere -interests -ago -foe -_Quebec -know -Quebec -deck -allow -name -same -low -bow -safer -wafer -own -throne -ten -men -dogs -fogs -Belleisle -keel -tar 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-caught -trace -way -immaculate -play -us -Astrolabius -dispensers -store -Recompensers -shore -hesitating -declare -waiting -share.’ -remember -allowed -December -cloud -sorrow -loss -to-morrow -cross -splendour -end -tender -friend -successes -lot -blesses -not -season -own -reason -known -heaven -man -given -plan -glories -rest -stories -breast -mothers -sphere -others— -here -created— -birth— -waited -earth -waiting -wile -longing -while.’ -deep -end -friend -Sleep -keep -send -blend -creep.’ -beams -alarms -came -dreams -arms -shame -meditating -part -art -fair -care -desires -inspires -free -be -regret -set -(_aside -late -door -fate -self -elf -heart -art -cold -hands -(_indignantly -cold -bold -rude -intrude -presence -hands -see -me -sly -call -(_haughtily -voice -choice -come’ -dumb -life— -wife -grate -divide -bride -alone -(_impatiently -thrown -day -wreath— -_critically -say -lace -face -interruption -audience -intense -cheers -tears -play -play -hands -say -take -awake— 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-meets -kings -show -go -return -lord -eyes -men -ways -let -words -‘queen!’ -queen -this -name -alone -still— -be -avenger -name -Esther -name -sigh -lips -countenance -name -face -accident -praise -confusion -wit -gems -sight -magnitude -gem— -_love -dwells -gem -speak -know -word -understood -know -king -will -world -Ahasueras -world -kings -camp -know -dreams -bestow -below -boy -joy -same -flame -splendour -pretender -it -beside -love -above -wind -blind -might -night -soul -goal -dreams -again -return -burn -fire -desire -lies -buys -despair -smile -glow -woe -pain -vain -measure -pleasure -king -part -thought -state -mate -clan -man -wis -kiss -passed -veiled -desolate -me -thee -content -one -court -regret -day -it -lord -on -thee -wealth -mine— -live -hope -day -restored -abashed -morn -eyes -veil -door -day -hours -then -fast -thee -due -will -demand -arms -so -love -happiness -altitude -conqueror -side -slavery -earth -heights -below -great -man -king— -content -deeds -kings -men -me -littleness -king -lips— -arms -tents -hand -ruin.’ -go— -wearied -thee -men -heart -love -art— -earth— -heart -tears -renown -fit -kings -husks -years -fit -host -take -away -me -love -say -wait -sound -offering -heart -melody -ear -wine -on -returning -yearning -burning -dream -glory -gory -story -theme -tresses -blesses -caresses -again -faces -graces -places -strain -speeding -unheeding -pleading -might -wearing -daring -faring -fight -contending -blending -sending -foes -humming -drumming -coming -goes -faring -daring -fight -man -king -sake -hour -place -race— -power— -power.’ -light -understood -good -right— -right -sway -unvexed -sexed -way— -way -man -mind -womankind -plan— -plan -gave -became -shame -slave— -slave -long -breast -unrest -wrong -wrong -heart -pain -brain -part— -part.’ -stirred -vast -aghast -demurred— -demurred -sphere -fame -acclaim -cheer— -cheer -hour -competitor -her -power— -power -God-authorised -Disarm!’ -camps -lace -‘Undone!’ -hills -forge -death -doors -starve.’ -sons -men -forth -Peace -shaped -toil -death -build.’ -joy -thought -victories -cried -try -beautiful -came.’ -wilds -mind -again -toil -world -truth -air -gleamed -hid -gay -land -world -known -war -fire -dim -race -displayed -arose -sphere -between -hours -years -God-authorised -Disarm -care -pain -complain -unfair -prayer -vain -attain -despair.’ -thee— -heart -way -Me -part -pray.’ -born -host -goal -sea -coasts -ranks -one -language—Peace -said -earth -surprise -world -womankind -men -blood -proclaim -cease -world -end -day -earth -oath -tomb -behest -bear -war -babes -wars -guns -armies -peace -again -be -plea -mankind -desire -times -spread -sea -mind -behold -Peace -resolve -end -sons— -adorn -be -opulence -all -birth-cry -earth -answer.’ -still -considered -world -fears -curled -tears -hark -alarms -dark -arms -room -go -gloom -woe -gone -on -day -fall -way -call -toys -floor -joys -store -hands -weeps -understands -keeps -part -mother-heart -heights -top.’ -‘Stop -fair -there -heights.’ -on!’ -yet -beset -those -rose -on.’ -done.’ -head -said -heed -need -done.’ -last— -clear.’ -near -highway -day -last!”’ -heights -guide!’ -side -now?’ -brow— -heights -ire -shame -came -desire -fire -flame -name— -pyre -town -wife -sun -down -life -oblivion -lore -mind -more -kind -sight -need -right -creed -kin -herd -sin -bird -fraught -things -thought -wings -cope -woes -hope -foes -fate -white -hate -light -faith -friend -death -‘end.’ -best -ills -cheerfulness -them -talk -air -thanks -silently -accept -plan -it -pray -sight -eyes -Jew -seem -earth -esteem -worth -toil -trod -soil— -God -remain -light -vain -sight -out -doubt!’ -by -gaze -reproach -look -words -reproof -hours -babes -sound -one -rolled -past -opportunities -by -strength -this -west -feel -resolve -know -souls -Love -lies -first -done -Time -day -smile -flaw -see -_be -law -worse -view -do -universe -world -night -might -hurled -done -came— -flame -sun -plan -birth— -earth -Man -state -why -great -years -do -through -spheres -may -dust -must -stay -afar -made -shade -star -disperse -self-control -soul -universe -reply -eye -be -thee -apart -heart -fire -aspire -roll -soul -hour -power -all -call -face -place -free -be -sad -glad -arise -Paradise -force -hour -source -power -bell -things -foretell -wings -been -mind -within -find -Priest -goal -released -soul -strife -fanfarade -life -unafraid -earth -sublime -birth -time -earth -birth -go -below -space -Place -endures -yours -made -shade -thing -string -straw -law -death -breath -gates -waits -broad -God -ascend -lend -found -round -wood -good -strong -long -leads -needs -way -stay -time -climb -land -spires -pews -greed -gain -lips -mart -toil -poor -wage -rent -love -clans -blood -men -life -faith -self -heart -good -Jew -Christ -inventions -tall -vessels -wall -ages -fall -idols -birth -treasures -worth -them -earth -convulsion -wave -thunders -cave -possessions -grave -Silence -again -column -then -cities -men -slaughter -shame -virtues -fame -honour -name -together -night -seeking -height— -doing -_right -lent -content.’ -went -‘Content.’ -meant -content.’ -bent -content.’ -sent -discontent.’ -rent -discontent.’ -blent -‘Discontent.’ -intent -discontent.’ -been -tents -camp -sound— -thief— -stirs -last -one -alert -reflect -Omnipotence -Greed -power -slays -School -Toil -loll -Wealth— -Force -strife -century -more -stand -time -hour -peace -depends -day -thieves -poor -fare -work— -toil -shares— -sleep -gladness -days -sadness -ways -labour -bestowed -neighbour -load -pleasure -rolls -measure -souls -story -so -glory -below -Centre -birth -enter -earth -sorrow -night -to-morrow -light -calling -falling -brief -relief -borrow -below -go -losses -crosses -fear -near -created -hated -yours -endures -pleasures -measures -stone—away -to-day -shining -grow -measure -pleasure -blow -know -building -free -meadows -shadows -sea -me -unwanted -sights -alley -rally -nights -delights -prisons -dwell -cages -rages -cell -hell -burden -sin -treasures -pleasures -kin -in -chimes -these -times -long -Wrong -truths -see -‘Be -free!’ -of -make -must -break -creeds -needs -kings -simpler -things -centuries -God.’ -sin -kin -of -hear -o’ -year -to -free.’ -portico -sun -clouds -sighed -trod -June -sons -bourne -yesterday -Sea -wiles -Sun -mourn.’ -door -rest -grate -alone -light -sweet -upon -thee -me.’ -passed -world -art -part -led -ahead -goal -soul -west -quest -low:— -go -brought -not -achieve -believe -Source -Course -fast -cast -mart -apart— -power -hour -led -ahead -day -slaves -ours -ours -streams -desire -lies -Freedom -takes -sinks -where -be -war -men -sea -world -crown -heir -blood -votes -gold -Liberty -strength -hope -kindness -leads -dawn -joy -night -thing -Christ -life -lie -chase -beast -Realms -fires -kind -be -time -opulence -recompense -bestow -foe -appear -near -wait -intimate -living -giving -soul -goal -attain -brain -above -love -blown -own -day -way -place -race -Thee -this -things -heart -kings -speech -state -wrong.’ -great -lands -soul -thought -goal -laws -might -force -right -light -abroad -ways -God -morning -aloud -desire -crowd -roadside -way -act -day -noontime— -kind -passed -behind -shining -sun -know -done -evening -long -need -wrong -journey -say -while -way.’ -ringing -day -swinging -way -fetter -blind -better -behind -existence -night -distance -light -lowly -trod -slowly -God -departed -tomb -started -bloom -condition -race -place -blindness -grope -kindness -hope -errors -dawn -terrors -gone -sobbing -clan -throbbing -man -chiming -say -climbing -way -days -Mays -desire -fire -glow -know -truth -youth -rose -unclose -sea -key -out -doubt -bless -usefulness -fades -glades -air -there -kind -find -worth -earth -fate -gate -fall -all -soul -goal -trod -God -Hun -uncouth -sooth -one -son -ruth -youth -run?’ -past -strife -law -re-cast -life -mart -heart -flood -Brotherhood -along -grace -face -wrong -song -lace -race -throng -vein -blot— -art -pain -not -heart -thought -wrought -brought -Me -He -be -so -go -know -plan -began -man -Earth -earth -worth -spring -bring -everything.’ -aloud -bowed -cloud -good -Motherhood -understood -along— -throng -wrong -late -gate -hate -one -begun -done -sand -land -understand -know -woe -grow -tare -care -air -breed -heed -need -stirred -word -heard -thought -creeds -needs -taught -ands -that -fat -sands -away -hate -wait -day -stone -room -gloom -throne -heart -alway -day -part -place -light -sight -space -under -Commonplace -blunder -race -me— -spring -me -thing!’ -duty -fed -beauty -bread -season -thrive -reason -alive -splendour -eye -tender -by -treasure— -string -pleasure -thing -seeing -would -being -borrow -strive -sorrow -alive -attain -achieve -believe -gain -plain -grieve -receive -pain -word -in -stirred -din -heard -kin -known -alone -soul -control -sin -within -shows -foes -side -satisfied -go -snow -fall -tall -hear -near -play -away -mused -used -remain -plain -decree -me.’ -shock -rock -heart -mart -pride -cried -friend -end.’ -by -eye -grand -expand -mass -pass -worth -earth -have -Way -gone -day -on -mirth -Genesis -birth -this -all -tiers -fall -spheres -plan -wrought -man -thought -stars -things -Mars -rings -Cause -out -laws -doubt -place -knows— -race -goes -sun -souls -done -goals -cold -hate -behold -fate -course -sight -Source -Light -Way -gone -stay -on -comprehend -before -end -adore -bed -ornate -hate -head -plead -great -fate -shed -aim -joy -home -fame -boy -smile -afraid -masquerade -awhile -jeer -blow -lo -disappear -brother -blow -nightfall -go -know -so -sister -aglow -you -woe -know -so -pilgrim -grow -darkness -blow -know -so -question -slow -answer -low -so -know -grow -free -Thee -know -below -earth -birth -heard -bird— -near -ear -hand -understand -mind -kind -rise -paradise -see -me -role -soul -sin -kin -steed -speed -end -friend -stall -call -cry -passer-by -possessed -rest -awe -law -All -up!’ -doubt— -way -car -To-day -track -gone -pace -on— -up -lively!’ -fast -‘Wait.’ -delay -Fate -behind -bar -defeat -car -lively -up!’ -sit -earth -soul -birth -one -space -selfishness -place -up -fast!’ -obstacles -near -grip -fear -Life -curve—Despair -hope -there -fast -wait -brought -fate -thought -sing— -spring -thing -dead -said -unread -steel -mercantile -reveal -find -behind -blind -gods -lauds -nods -know -go -grow -machine -between -unseen -bring -sing -thing -drear -door?’ -Cheer.’ -grope -here?’ -Hope.’ -bless -on.’ -Success.’ -wealth -it.’ -Health.’ -statements -prove.’ -Love.’ -cuirass -javelin -age -God -king -war -men -end -meet -arise -snarls -cut -let -supersede -War -thought -mind -Soon -Disarm -joy -pain -hear -refrain -again -despair -day -track -way -stay -it -rise -skies -it -it -me -be -it -us -long -song -us -greed -sin -need -within -speech -ways -teach -praise -grief -fear -relief -cheer -heart -see -part -flower -wait -estate -bower -flower -unevolved -clod— -God -solved -unevolved -test -best -congregate -abate -day -way -shame -name -start -part -eyes -disguise -kind -find -scene -serene -combine -divine -deny -whole -soul -hour -power -I— -deny -gate -in?’ -great;’ -sin;’ -faith -death.’ -said -to-day?’ -led,’ -way— -flight -light.’ -came -lot -blame -spot -late -gate.’ -free -hand -me -band -paradise -skies.’ -die -by -high -came -name -shame -force -course -Source -roll -Soul -Whole -flee -sea -song -sword -perfume -word -connoisseur -art -stays -heart -weeks -one -hot -run -thought -care -word -air -alone -speed -stays -heed -serve -intent -swerve -view -Mars -stars -you -Cause -light -right -laws -demur -Interpreter -door -score -doubt -out -deceive -believe -act -Fact -outside -guide -way -ray -consciousness -seek -speak -bless -press -peak -weak -confess -soul -shown -sign -goal -known -divine -yesterday -Lay -prepare -despair -set -regret -slow -grow -believe -achieve -receiving -relieving -men -living -giving -again -wrought -naught -was— -desolate -fate -thought— -Create—_Create -Unseen— -life -screen -will -unheard -word -same -thought -flame -glow -day -great -way -wait -soul -goal -cheer -stranger -near -danger -hope -error -grope -terror -be -it -free -it -worth -returning -earth -burning -sun -run -death -breath -knows -close -years -tears -Distrust -must -Good -misunderstood -meet -Defeat -eyes -flies -infinite -void -join -life -Heaven -creed -fear -peace -earth -sympathy -beyond -Heaven -Love -despise -sin -sympathise -kin -soul -sod -self-control -God -say -fall -all.’ -eyes -worth -earth -wise -door -thought -brought -shore -ear -hear -thrive -alive -tongue -stung -spawn -gone -mind -kind -force -source -earth -mirth -worth -things -brings -wings -wait -Fate -great -the -13 -street -way -soul -say -obstacles -lexicon -marred -on -own -mind -unlocks -find -tried -denied -go -show -plan -man -control -soul -play -pray -climb -time -last -past -on -gone -right -height -fair -despair -dead.’ -sphere -here -led -tread -year -fear -shed -space -universe -curse -place -said -dead.’ -sod -reed -creed -rod -broad -feed -need -God -faith -tier -appear -‘death.’ -comforted -dead.’ -lot -thought -face -grace— -grate -fate -sad -had -spring -everything -heart -part -blade -shade -Fall -all -brought -sought -find— -mind -day— -way -grace -commonplace -name -fame -dress -success -bent -opulent -sympathy -she -died -wide -avenue -view -lawn -dawn -stirred -bird -long -song -awe -saw -go -know -severed -street -greet -youth -truth -wave -grave -sphere -here -halls -walls -mien -queen -shone -own.’ -eye -why -made -laid -gold -behold -more -store -died -side -years -spheres -earth -birth -tire -desire -prayer -despair -indeed -need.’ -bound -hound -hand -PARADISE’ -eyes -end -depend -love -above -exist -persist -Cherubim!’ -vast -past -throng -song— -coast -host -say -day;’ -thought -wrought -done -won -exulting -daring -heart -red -lies -dead -bells -trills -a-crowding -turning -father -head -deck -dead -still -will -done -won -bells -tread -lies -dead -see -be -sails -bales -dew -blue -warm -thunderstorm -furl'd -world -awe -law -high -coast -sky -tossed -dark -o'er -bark -shore -comes -came -drums -fame -come -fear -gloom -cheer -sang -sea -rang -free -soared -foam -roared -home -hair -band -there -land -eye -truth -high -youth -afar -mine -war -shrine -ground -trod -found -God -thee -be -Shaftoe -before -more -Shaftoe -sea -be -Shaftoe -to-day -stay -Shaftoe -knee -me -Shaftoe -be -me -Shaftoe -thee -see -Shaftoe -see -free -Shaftoe -me -be -Shaftoe -thee -me -Shaftoe -me -be -Shaftoe -be -unity -Shaftoe -boy -Reese -afternoon -piece -learned -store -head -more -happened -week -piece -speak -cudgeled -head -random -said -beautiful -by -Hesperus -high -crowded -Rome -tree -home -height -star -head -Navarre -early -be -to-night -tree -on -clever -deck -ever -Colors -say -cuddled -to-day -baby -all -man-size -call -recruiting -drum -Glory -"Come -slacker -patriot-joy -roster -boy -Colors -while -army -style -soldier -ear -loyal -fear -shuddered -her!--cried -mother-nature -mother-pride -straightened -ran -youngster -man -away -hay -seen -nineteen -Belle -tell -me -Tennessee -know -row -be -Tennessee -hill -still -sky -eye -moon -afternoon -forlorn -corn -more -shore -see -Tennessee -mad -lad -say -find -men -glen -door -floor -gone -on -bar -right -sight -sound -ground -Glen -men -alarm -arm -along -strong -day -away -West -rest -advance -glance -pain -rein -face -place -see -Tennessee -son -begun -mouth -South -through -do -be -Tennessee -South -mouth -away -to -do -gone -on -say -door -before -cavalry -rapidly -night -sight -days -highways -west -best -last -fast -ford -sword -will -still -tell -Belle -lass -Blue-Grass -had -lad -how -bow -swell -Belle -high -why -wall -stall -me -Tennessee -pass -Blue-Grass -Belle -well -spur -her -life -all -wife -cottage -Joe -pay -know -away -same -meet -name -the -street -about -floor -out -door -came -success -pet-name -dress -start -away -heart -day -man -Joe -invention-plan -fro -went -seen -cent -great -machine -tool -you -from -school -so -sewed -side -goad -died -white -night -dew -wild -sky -buried -child -gate -floor -grate -workshop -speak -dread -weak -head -in -a -hole -sin -soul -mad -and -hand -fall -all -death -o'er -breath -door -guise -see -eyes -me -say -thing -day -bring -dream -life -gleam -happy -brim -rim -blood -flood -brother -mirth -might -earth -blight -crown -down -name -shame -taste -waste -sky -fail -rail -sea -me -fall -all -Wine -boast -host -sad -glad -laved -saved -mountain -fountain -sky -eye -pain -grain -mill -will -you -anew -aid -maid -free -me -other -brother -brim -rim -"Punch -sneer -face -hair -ease -debonair -please -plain -paragraph -pain -winding-sheet -anew -feet -you -sneer -pen -peer -men -rue -rose -true -blows -be -same -he -fame -few -hand -do -command -grow -will -know -ill -side -Right's -plied -mights -soil -axe -toil -tracks -bear -train -bear -grain -do -years -through -cheers -praise -mood -days -stood -him -prest -dim -rest -lips -pen -eclipse -men -sea -shame -high -came -street -country-seat -portico -throw -hall -all -Never--forever -stands -hands -oak -cloak -alas -pass -Never--forever -light -night -fall -hall -floor -door -Never--forever -mirth -birth -vicissitude -stood -saw -awe -Never--forever -be -Hospitality -roared -board -feast -ceased -Never--forever -played -strayed -prime -time -gold -told -Never--forever -white -night -below -snow -prayer -stair -Never--forever -fled -dead -pain -by -reply -Never-forever -there -care -disappear -here -Eternity -incessantly -Never--forever -nearly -nearly -then -trouble -trouble -men -of -of -wife -Sunday -Sunday -life -byway -byway -see -pavements -pavements -we -Flanders -clear -England -England -here -trenches -trenches -fine -weakness -weakness -whine -Garden -Garden -cross -it -loss -us -us -past -pardon -pardon -last -breath -limb -death -Girl 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-me -child -sea -love -Lee -heaven -me -ago -sea -chilling -Lee -came -me -sepulchre -sea -heaven -me -know -sea -night -Lee -love -we -we -above -sea -soul -Lee -dreams -Lee -eyes -Lee -side -bride -sea -sea -night -garden-bed -gold -night -spread -youth -night -overhead -sung -long -song -earth -birth -grass -pass -flowers -bowers -fanes -plains -bloom -tomb -North -forth -sea -free -green -been -sigh -sky -time -clime -lakes -breaks -chain -main -brows -boughs -caves -waves -boys -noise -spite -tonight -more -door -freeze -mistake -flake -shed -red -told -old -"Judge -fudge -right -chaff -laugh -look -book -_true -too -brain -chain -fire -Squire -pith -Smith -free -thee -fun -done -call -all -pen -men -gay -away -gray -May -toys -dreary -weary -wall -fall -dreary -dreary -weary -past -blast -dreary -repining -shining -all -fall -dreary -way -home -day -desire -good -form -road -road -crush -weak -rush -mend -give -friend -live -road -live -along -give -way -said -load -ahead -road 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-sorrows -implore -listen -to-day -to -away -another -gray -rest -pray -morning -weak -misery -seek -sorry -to-day -Guest -away -swiftly -done -heart -come -Him -care -me -fair -teardrops -old -bleeding -cold -you -care -it -otherwhere -shadow -brow -now -ended -done -garnished -dark--alone -sounded -gate -door -wait -deepened -come -nothing -wept -longing -slept -me -fair -care -onward -uncomforted -lost -fled -Thee -bowed -humility -pardoned -thee -Mine -Me -place -Again -heartaches -griefs -door -again -unaware -trail -done -all -waits -hail -do -late -broken -one -perfected -fortunate -kind -Again -grudged -here -handclasp -explain -best -gain -wing -away -after -Again -place -Again -heartaches -griefs -door -again -Joey -great -better -Wait -'em -high -Joey -cry -winder -sot -bushes -pot -it -no -growin -show -feller -weak -comfort -cheek -rose -missus -suppose -you -Joe -know -tumble -in -tin -you -much -you -crutch -cuttin -bokay -feller -to-night -fortnit -bright -it -Joe 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