Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Dubliners (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by James Joyce

  Gabriel coloured, as if he felt he had made a mistake and, without looking at her, kicked off his goloshes and flicked actively with his muffler at his patent-leather shoes.

  He was a stout, tallish young man. The high colour of his cheeks pushed upwards even to his forehead, where it scattered itself in a few formless patches of pale red; and on his hairless face there scintillated restlessly the polished lenses and the bright gilt rims of the glasses which screened his delicate and restless eyes. His glossy black hair was parted in the middle and brushed in a long curve behind his ears where it curled slightly beneath the groove left by his hat.

  When he had flicked lustre into his shoes he stood up and pulled his waistcoat down more tightly on his plump body. Then he took a coin rapidly from his pocket.

  —0 Lily, he said, thrusting it into her hands, it’s Christmas-time, isn’t it? Just ... here’s a little....

  He walked rapidly towards the door.

  —0 no, sir! cried the girl, following him. Really, sir, I wouldn’t take it.

  -Christmas-time! Christmas-time! said Gabriel, almost trotting to the stairs and waving his hand to her in deprecation.

  The girl, seeing that he had gained the stairs, called out after him:

  —Well, thank you, sir.

  He waited outside the drawing-room door until the waltz should finish, listening to the skirts that swept against it and to the shuffling of feet. He was still discomposed by the girl’s bitter and sudden retort. It had cast a gloom over him which he tried to dispel by arranging his cuffs and the bows of his tie. He then took from his waistcoat pocket a little paper and glanced at the headings he had made for his speech. He was undecided about the lines from Robert Browning,ads for he feared they would be above the heads of his hearers. Some quotation that they would recognise from Shakespeare or from the Melodiesadt would be better. The indelicate clacking of the men’s heels and the shuffling of their soles reminded him that their grade of culture differed from his. He would only make himself ridiculous by quoting poetry to them which they could not understand. They would think that he was airing his superior education. He would fail with them just as he had failed with the girl in the pantry. He had taken up a wrong tone. His whole speech was a mistake from first to last, an utter failure.

  Just then his aunts and his wife came out of the ladies’ dressing-room. His aunts were two small, plainly dressed old women. Aunt Julia was an inch or so the taller. Her hair, drawn low over the tops of her ears, was grey; and grey also, with darker shadows, was her large flaccid face. Though she was stout in build and stood erect, her slow eyes and parted lips gave her the appearance of a woman who did not know where she was or where she was going. Aunt Kate was more vivacious. Her face, healthier than her sister’s, was all puckers and creases, like a shrivelled red apple, and her hair, braided in the same old-fashioned way, had not lost its ripe nut colour.

  They both kissed Gabriel frankly. He was their favourite nephew, the son of their dead elder sister, Ellen, who had married T. J. Conroy of the Port and Docks.

  -Gretta tells me you’re not going to take a cab back to Monkstownadu to-night, Gabriel, said Aunt Kate.

  -No, said Gabriel, turning to his wife, we had quite enough of that last year, hadn’t we? Don’t you remember, Aunt Kate, what a cold Gretta got out of it? Cab windows rattling all the way, and the east wind blowing in after we passed Merrion.adv Very jolly it was. Gretta caught a dreadful cold.

  Aunt Kate frowned severely and nodded her head at every word.

  —Quite right, Gabriel, quite right, she said. You can’t be too careful.

  -But as for Gretta there, said Gabriel, she’d walk home in the snow if she were let.

  Mrs Conroy laughed.

  —Don’t mind him, Aunt Kate, she said. He’s really an awful bother, what with green shades for Tom’s eyes at night and making him do the dumb-bells, and forcing Eva to eat the stirabout.adw The poor child! And she simply hates the sight of it! ... 0, but you’ll never guess what he makes me wear now!

  She broke out into a peal of laughter and glanced at her husband, whose admiring and happy eyes had been wandering from her dress to her face and hair. The two aunts laughed heartily, too, for Gabriel’s solicitude was a standing joke with them.

  —Goloshes! said Mrs Conroy. That’s the latest. Whenever it’s wet underfoot I must put on my goloshes. To-night even, he wanted me to put them on, but I wouldn’t. The next thing he’ll buy me will be a diving suit.

  Gabriel laughed nervously and patted his tie reassuringly, while Aunt Kate nearly doubled herself, so heartily did she enjoy the joke. The smile soon faded from Aunt Julia’s face and her mirthless eyes were directed towards her nephew’s face. After a pause she asked:

  —And what are goloshes, Gabriel?

  -Goloshes, Julia! exclaimed her sister. Goodness me, don’t you know what goloshes are? You wear them over your ... over your boots, Gretta, isn’t it?

  -Yes, said Mrs Conroy. Guttaperchaadx things. We both have a pair now. Gabriel says everyone wears them on the continent.

  —0, on the continent, murmured Aunt Julia, nodding her head slowly.

  Gabriel knitted his brows and said, as if he were slightly angered:

  -It’s nothing very wonderful, but Gretta thinks it very funny because she says the word reminds her of Christy Minstrels.ady

  -But tell me, Gabriel, said Aunt Kate, with brisk tact. Of course, you’ve seen about the room. Gretta was saying ...

  —0, the room is all right, replied Gabriel. I’ve taken one in the Gresham.adz

  -To be sure, said Aunt Kate, by far the best thing to do. And the children, Gretta, you’re not anxious about them?

  —0, for one night, said Mrs Conroy. Besides, Bessie will look after them.

  -To be sure, said Aunt Kate again. What a comfort it is to have a girl like that, one you can depend on! There’s that Lily, I’m sure I don’t know what has come over her lately. She’s not the girl she was at all.

  Gabriel was about to ask his aunt some questions on this point, but she broke off suddenly to gaze after her sister, who had wandered down the stairs and was craning her neck over the banisters.

  -Now, I ask you, she said almost testily, where is Julia going? Julia! Julia! Where are you going?

  Julia, who had gone half way down one flight, came back and announced blandly:

  -Here’s Freddy.

  At the same moment a clapping of hands and a final flourish of the pianist told that the waltz had ended. The drawing-room door was opened from within and some couples came out. Aunt Kate drew Gabriel aside hurriedly and whispered into his ear:

  —Slip down, Gabriel, like a good fellow and see if he’s all right, and don’t let him up if he’s screwed. I’m sure he’s screwed. I’m sure he is.

  Gabriel went to the stairs and listened over the banisters. He could hear two persons talking in the pantry. Then he recognised Freddy Malins’ laugh. He went down the stairs noisily.

  -It’s such a relief, said Aunt Kate to Mrs Conroy, that Gabriel is here. I always feel easier in my mind when he’s here.... Julia, there’s Miss Daly and Miss Power will take some refreshment. Thanks for your beautiful waltz, Miss Daly. It made lovely time.

  A tall wizen-faced man, with a stiff grizzled moustache and swarthy skin, who was passing out with his partner, said:

  -And may we have some refreshment, too, Miss Morkan?

  —Julia, said Aunt Kate summarily, and here’s Mr Browne and Miss Furlong. Take them in, Julia, with Miss Daly and Miss Power.

  -I’m the man for the ladies, said Mr Browne, pursing his lips until his moustache bristled and smiling in all his wrinkles. You know, Miss Morkan, the reason they are so fond of me is—

  He did not finish his sentence, but, seeing that Aunt Kate was out of earshot, at once led the three young ladies into the back room. The middle of the room was occupied by two square tables placed end to end, and on these Aunt Julia and the caretaker were straightening and smoothing a large cl
oth. On the sideboard were arrayed dishes and plates, and glasses and bundles of knives and forks and spoons. The top of the closed square piano served also as a sideboard for viandsaea and sweets. At a smaller sideboard in one corner two young men were standing, drinking hop-bitters.aeb

  Mr Browne led his charges thither and invited them all, in jest, to some ladies’ punch, hot, strong and sweet. As they said they never took anything strong, he opened three bottles of lemonadeaec for them. Then he asked one of the young men to move aside, and, taking hold of the decanter, filled out for himself a goodly measure of whisky. The young men eyed him respectfully while he took a trial sip.

  -God help me, he said, smiling, it’s the doctor’s orders.

  His wizened face broke into a broader smile, and the three young ladies laughed in musical echo to his pleasantry, swaying their bodies to and fro, with nervous jerks of their shoulders. The boldest said:

  —0, now, Mr Browne, I’m sure the doctor never ordered anything of the kind.

  Mr Browne took another sip of his whisky and said, with sidling mimicry:

  -Well, you see, I’m like the famous Mrs Cassidy, who is reported to have said: Now, Mary Grimes, if I don’t take it, make me take it, for I feel I want it.

  His hot face had leaned forward a little too confidentially and he had assumed a very low Dublin accent so that the young ladies, with one instinct, received his speech in silence. Miss Furlong, who was one of Mary Jane’s pupils, asked Miss Daly what was the name of the pretty waltz she had played; and Mr Browne, seeing that he was ignored, turned promptly to the two young men who were more appreciative.

  A red-faced young woman, dressed in pansy, came into the room, excitedly clapping her hands and crying:

  —Quadrilles! Quadrilles!aed

  Close on her heels came Aunt Kate, crying:

  -Two gentlemen and three ladies, Mary Jane!

  —0, here’s Mr Bergin and Mr Kerrigan, said Mary Jane. Mr Kerrigan, will you take Miss Power? Miss Furlong, may I get you a partner, Mr Bergin. 0, that’ll just do now.

  -Three ladies, Mary Jane, said Aunt Kate.

  The two young gentlemen asked the ladies if they might have the pleasure, and Mary Jane turned to Miss Daly.

  —0, Miss Daly, you’re really awfully good, after playing for the last two dances, but really we’re so short of ladies to-night.

  —I don’t mind in the least, Miss Morkan.

  -But I’ve a nice partner for you, Mr Bartell D’Arcy, the tenor. I’ll get him to sing later on. All Dublin is raving about him.

  -Lovely voice, lovely voice! said Aunt Kate.

  As the piano had twice begun the prelude to the first figure Mary Jane led her recruits quickly from the room. They had hardly gone when Aunt Julia wandered slowly into the room, looking behind her at something.

  —What is the matter, Julia? asked Aunt Kate anxiously. Who is it?

  Julia, who was carrying in a column of table-napkins, turned to her sister and said, simply, as if the question had surprised her:

  -It’s only Freddy, Kate, and Gabriel with him.

  In fact right behind her Gabriel could be seen piloting Freddy Malins across the landing. The latter, a young man of about forty, was of Gabriel’s size and build, with very round shoulders. His face was fleshy and pallid, touched with colour only at the thick hanging lobes of his ears and at the wide wings of his nose. He had coarse features, a blunt nose, a convex and receding brow, tumid and protruded lips. His heavy-lidded eyes and the disorder of his scanty hair made him look sleepy. He was laughing heartily in a high key at a story which he had been telling Gabriel on the stairs and at the same time rubbing the knuckles of his left fist backwards and forwards into his left eye.

  -Good-evening, Freddy, said Aunt Julia.

  Freddy Malins bade the Misses Morkan good-evening in what seemed an offhand fashion by reason of the habitual catch in his voice and then, seeing that Mr Browne was grinning at him from the sideboard, crossed the room on rather shaky legs and began to repeat in an undertone the story he had just told to Gabriel.

  -He’s not so bad, is he? said Aunt Kate to Gabriel.

  Gabriel’s brows were dark but he raised them quick and answered:

  —0, no, hardly noticeable.

  -Now, isn’t he a terrible fellow! she said. And his poor mother made him take the pledgeaee on New Year’s Eve. But come on, Gabriel, into the drawing-room.

  Before leaving the room with Gabriel she signalled to Mr Browne by frowning and shaking her forefinger in warning to and fro. Mr Browne nodded in answer and, when she had gone, said to Freddy Malins:

  -Now, then, Teddy, I’m going to fill you out a good glass of lemonade just to buck you up.

  Freddy Malins, who was nearing the climax of his story, waved the offer aside impatiently but Mr Browne, having first called Freddy Malins’ attention to a disarray in his dress, filled out and handed him a full glass of lemonade. Freddy Malins’ left hand accepted the glass mechanically, his right hand being engaged in the mechanical readjustment of his dress. Mr Browne, whose face was once more wrinkling with mirth, poured out for himself a glass of whisky while Freddy Malins exploded, before he had well reached the climax of his story, in a kink of high-pitched bronchitic laughter and, setting down his untasted and overflowing glass, began to rub the knuckles of his left fist backwards and forwards into his left eye, repeating words of his last phrase as well as his fit of laughter would allow him.

  Gabriel could not listen while Mary Jane was playing her Academy piece, full of runs and difficult passages, to the hushed drawing-room. He liked music but the piece she was playing had no melody for him and he doubted whether it had any melody for the other listeners, though they had begged Mary Jane to play something. Four young men, who had come from the refreshment-room to stand in the doorway at the sound of the piano, had gone away quietly in couples after a few minutes. The only persons who seemed to follow the music were Mary Jane herself, her hands racing along the keyboard or lifted from it at the pauses like those of a priestess in momentary imprecation, and Aunt Kate standing at her elbow to turn the page.

  Gabriel’s eyes, irritated by the floor, which glittered with beeswax under the heavy chandelier, wandered to the wall above the piano. A picture of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet hung there and beside it was a picture of the two murdered princes in the Toweraef which Aunt Julia had worked in red, blue and brown wools when she was a girl. Probably in the school they had gone to as girls that kind of work had been taught for one year. His mother had worked for him as a birthday present a waistcoat of purple tabinet,aeg with little foxes’ heads upon it, lined with brown satin and having round mulberry buttons. It was strange that his mother had had no musical talent though Aunt Kate used to call her the brains carrier of the Morkan family. Both she and Julia had always seemed a little proud of their serious and matronly sister. Her photograph stood before the pierglass.aeh She held an open book on her knees and was pointing out something in it to Constantine who, dressed in a man-o’-war suit, lay at her feet. It was she who had chosen the names of her sons for she was very sensible of the dignity of family life. Thanks to her, Constantine was now senior curate in Balbrigganaei and, thanks to her, Gabriel himself had taken his degree in the Royal University.aej A shadow passed over his face as he remembered her sullen opposition to his marriage. Some slighting phrases she had used still rankled in his memory; she had once spoken of Gretta as being country cute and that was not true of Gretta at all. It was Gretta who had nursed her during all her last long illness in their house at Monkstown.

  He knew that Mary Jane must be near the end of her piece for she was playing again the opening melody with runs of scales after every bar and while he waited for the end the resentment died down in his heart. The piece ended with a trill of octaves in the treble and a final deep octave in the bass. Great applause greeted Mary Jane as, blushing and rolling up her music nervously, she escaped from the room. The most vigorous clapping came from the four young men
in the doorway who had gone away to the refreshment-room at the beginning of the piece but had come back when the piano had stopped.

  Lancersaek were arranged. Gabriel found himself partnered with Miss lvors. She was a frank-mannered talkative young lady, with a freckled face and prominent brown eyes. She did not wear a low-cut bodice and the large brooch which was fixed in the front of her collar bore on it an Irish deviceael and motto.

  When they had taken their places she said abruptly:

  —I have a crow to pluckaem with you.

  —With me? said Gabriel.

  She nodded her head gravely.

  -What is is? asked Gabriel, smiling at her solemn manner.

  —Who is G. C.? answered Miss Ivors, turning her eyes upon him.

  Gabriel coloured and was about to knit his brows, as if he did not understand, when she said bluntly:

  —0, innocent Amy! I have found out that you write for The Daily Express.aen Now, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?

  —Why should I be ashamed of myself? asked Gabriel, blinking his eyes and trying to smile.

  —Well, I’m ashamed of you, said Miss Ivors frankly. To say you’d write for a paper like that. I didn’t think you were a West Briton.aeo

  A look of perplexity appeared on Gabriel’s face. It was true that he wrote a literary column every Wednesday in The Daily Express, for which he was paid fifteen shillings. But that did not make him a West Briton surely. The books he received for review were almost more welcome than the paltry cheque. He loved to feel the covers and turn over the pages of newly printed books. Nearly every day when his teaching in the college was ended he used to wander down the quays to the second-hand booksellers, to Hickey’s on Bachelor’s Walk, to Webb’s or Massey’s on Aston’s Quay, or to O’Clohissey’s in the by-street. He did not know how to meet her charge. He wanted to say that literature was above politics. But they were friends of many years’ standing and their careers had been parallel, first at the University and then as teachers: he could not risk a grandiose phrase with her. He continued blinking his eyes and trying to smile and murmured lamely that he saw nothing political in writing reviews of books.