We read as far as, "O, that's all only all right." Penguin (52.6)
Stephen is still walking along the Sandymount Strand. We are still witnessing Stephen's thought process. And they run all over the place!
Last week we had left Stephen, who was thinking of umbilical cords, monks, and wondering whether he can get connected to Eden dialling the number Aleph, alpha, 0, 0, 1. He had referred to Eve as the womb of sin. Now he thinks of himself as having been made not begotten, unlike the Son of God. Is he also the product of God's plans though? Stephen's thoughts turn from Thomas Aquinas, who discoursed about lex eternal (eternal law), to Arius, a third century priest of Alexandria, who did not accept the concept of Trinity, propagating instead a hierarchy amongst God, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!
Despite all such thoughts, Stephen is aware of the nipping air and the waves of the sea, waves like the seahorses of the Irish god of sea, Mananaan. He is also aware of Mr. Deasy's letters that are in his pocket. He plans to deliver them before meeting Mulligan at lunch time in the pub, The Ship.
Apparently Stephen's aunt Sara (aka Sally) lives close by. While he asks himself whether he should visit her, uncle Richie, and their son Walter, Stephen imagines what his father Simon Dedalus would comment if he knew of the visit. The images of the aunt's poor house remind Stephen of how he used to boast at Clongowes that he had an uncle who was a judge, and another who was a general in the army. Stephen recalls other typical, unholy, things (praying to the devil for the fussy (plump) woman to lift her clothes a bit higher on the wet street, also crying, 'Naked women! Naked women! from the top of the Howth tram,...) he did in his puberty, in the strictly catholic Ireland. The verdict is clear: "Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint." (This echoes the remark of John Dryden to his distant relative, Jonathan Swift, on reading the first poem the latter wrote: "Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet.") He thinks of his plans of writing books with letters for titles.
In the mean time, Stephen has passed the way to aunt Sara's. So he decides not to go to her place after all. The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast,... He has reached what was then perhaps the most polluted part of Dublin Bay, sees the fishermen's nests at Ringsend, turns and crosses the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse.
The name Pigeon house leads Stephen on to think of Pigeon, of dove, of holy ghost, and of the book La vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil which has an illustration of Joseph asking Mary: "Who has put you in this wretched condition?" and her answer: "it was the pigeon, Joseph."
Stephen is still walking along the Sandymount Strand. We are still witnessing Stephen's thought process. And they run all over the place!
Last week we had left Stephen, who was thinking of umbilical cords, monks, and wondering whether he can get connected to Eden dialling the number Aleph, alpha, 0, 0, 1. He had referred to Eve as the womb of sin. Now he thinks of himself as having been made not begotten, unlike the Son of God. Is he also the product of God's plans though? Stephen's thoughts turn from Thomas Aquinas, who discoursed about lex eternal (eternal law), to Arius, a third century priest of Alexandria, who did not accept the concept of Trinity, propagating instead a hierarchy amongst God, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!
Despite all such thoughts, Stephen is aware of the nipping air and the waves of the sea, waves like the seahorses of the Irish god of sea, Mananaan. He is also aware of Mr. Deasy's letters that are in his pocket. He plans to deliver them before meeting Mulligan at lunch time in the pub, The Ship.
Apparently Stephen's aunt Sara (aka Sally) lives close by. While he asks himself whether he should visit her, uncle Richie, and their son Walter, Stephen imagines what his father Simon Dedalus would comment if he knew of the visit. The images of the aunt's poor house remind Stephen of how he used to boast at Clongowes that he had an uncle who was a judge, and another who was a general in the army. Stephen recalls other typical, unholy, things (praying to the devil for the fussy (plump) woman to lift her clothes a bit higher on the wet street, also crying, 'Naked women! Naked women! from the top of the Howth tram,...) he did in his puberty, in the strictly catholic Ireland. The verdict is clear: "Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint." (This echoes the remark of John Dryden to his distant relative, Jonathan Swift, on reading the first poem the latter wrote: "Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet.") He thinks of his plans of writing books with letters for titles.
In the mean time, Stephen has passed the way to aunt Sara's. So he decides not to go to her place after all. The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast,... He has reached what was then perhaps the most polluted part of Dublin Bay, sees the fishermen's nests at Ringsend, turns and crosses the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse.
The name Pigeon house leads Stephen on to think of Pigeon, of dove, of holy ghost, and of the book La vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil which has an illustration of Joseph asking Mary: "Who has put you in this wretched condition?" and her answer: "it was the pigeon, Joseph."
Stephen then thinks of Patrice, who was the son of one of the aristocrats, referred to as the wild geese, because they had fled Ireland in the 16th century. Patrice, who does not believe in the existence of God, (though his father does), should send him the book, Le vie de Jesus. French, Paris, Quartier Latin, walking in Paris, going to the post office of cash the money order for eight shillings, which his mother had sent him, .. Stephen's thoughts really run all over the place!
Additionally, there is a good bit of Shakespeare (Hamlet, King Lear) in this pages!
Chandra
