Ch3 Pt1

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter three, Part one of a Portrait of the Artist
as a young man. This is a LibriVox recording. All
LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information
or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by
Peter Bobby. A Portrait of the Artist as a young

(00:21):
Man by James Joyce, Chapter three, Part one. The swift
December dusk had come tumbling clownishly after its dull day,
and as he stared through the dull square of the
window of the school room, he felt his belly crave
for its food. He hoped there would be stew for dinner,

(00:43):
turnips and carrots, and bruised potatoes and fat mutton pieces
to be ladled out in thick peppered flower, fattened sauce.
Stuff it into you. His belly counseled him. It would
be a gloomy secret night after early night five the
yellow lamps would light up here and there, the squalid
quarter of the brothels. He would follow a devious course

(01:07):
up and down the streets, circling always nearer and nearer,
in a tremor of fear and joy, until his feet
led him suddenly round a dark corner, the hoars would
be just coming out of their houses, making ready for
the night, yawning lazily after their sleep, and settling the
hair pins in their clusters of hair. He would pass

(01:29):
by them calmly, waiting for a sudden movement of his
own will, or a sudden call to his sin loving
soul from their soft, perfumed flesh. Yet as he prowled
in quest of that call, his senses, stultified only by
his desire, would note keenly all that wounded or shamed

(01:49):
them his eyes, a ring of porter froth on a
clothless table, or a photograph of two soldiers standing to attention,
or a gaudy play his ears, the drawling jargon of greeting, Hello, Bertie,
Any good in your mind? Is that you pigeon number
ten fresh Nellie is waiting on you. Good night, husband,

(02:14):
coming in to have a short time. The equation on
the page of his scribbler began to spread out a
widening tale, eyed and starred like a peacock's, and when
the eyes and stars of its indices had been eliminated,
began slowly to fold itself together again. The indices appearing

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and disappearing were eyes opening and closing. The eyes opening
and closing were stars being born and being quenched. The
vast cycle of starry life bore his weary mind outward
to its verge, and inward to its center. A distant
music accompanying him outward and inward. What music? The music

(02:57):
came nearer, and he recalled the words, the words of
Shelley's fragment upon the moon, Wandering, companionless, pale for weariness.
The stars began to crumble, and a cloud of fine
star dust fell through space. The dull light fell more
faintly upon the page, whereon another equation began to unfold

(03:19):
itself slowly, and to spread abroad its widening tail. It
was his own soul, going forth to experience unfolding itself
sin by sin, spreading abroad the bale fire of its
burning stars, and folding back upon itself, fading slowly, quenching
its own lights and fires. They were quenched, and the

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cold darkness filled chaos. A cold, lucid indifference reigned in
his soul. At his first violent sin, he had felt
a wave of vitality pass out of him, and had
feared to find his body or his soul maimed by
the excess. Instead, the vital wave had carried him on

(04:03):
its bosom, out of himself, and back again when it receded,
and no part of body or soul had been maimed,
but a dark peace had been established between them. The
chaos in which his ardor extinguished itself was a cold,
indifferent knowledge of himself. He had sinned mortally, not once,

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but many times. And he knew that while he stood
in danger of eternal damnation for the first sin alone,
by every succeeding sin he multiplied his guilt and his punishment.
His days and works and thoughts could make no atonement
for him. The fountains of sanctifying grace having ceased to

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refresh his soul, at most by an alms given to
a beggar whose blessing he fled from, he might hope
wearily to win for himself. Some measure of actual grace
devotion had gone by the board. What did it avail
to pray? When he knew that his soul lusted after
its own destruction. A certain pride, a certain awe, withheld

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him from offering to God even one prayer at night,
though he knew it was in God's power to take
away his life while he slept and hurl his soul
hellward ere he could beg for mercy, his pride in
his own sin. His loveless awe of God told him
that his offense was too grievous to be atoned for
in whole or in part by a false homage to

(05:33):
the all seeing and all knowing. Well, Now, Ennis, I
declare you have a head, and so has my stick.
Do you mean to say that you are not able
to tell me what a surd is? The blundering answer
stirred the embers of his contempt of his fellows towards others.
He felt neither shame nor fear. On Sunday mornings, as

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he passed the church door, he glanced coldly at the
worshippers who stood bareheaded, four deep outside the church, morally
present at the mass, which they could neither see nor hear.
Their dull piety, and the sickly smell of the cheap
hair oil with which they had anointed their heads repelled
him from the altar they prayed at. He stooped to

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the evil of hypocrisy with others, skeptical of their innocence,
which he could cajole so easily. On the wall of
his bedroom hung an illuminated scroll the certificate of his
prefecture in the College of the Sodality of the Blessed
Virgin Mary. On Saturday mornings, when the Sodality met in

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the chapel to recite the little office, his place was
a cushioned, kneeling desk at the right of the altar,
from which he led his wing of boys through the responses.
The falsehood of his position did not pain him, if
at moments he felt an impulse to rise from his
post of honor and confessing before them all his unworthiness

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to leave the chapel, a glance at their faces restrained him.
The imagery of the psalms of prophecy soothed his barren pride.
The glories of Mary held his soul captive, spikenard and
myrrh and frankencense symbolizing the preciousness of God's gifts to
her soul, rich garments symbolizing her royal lineage, her emblems

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the late flowering plant and late blossoming tree symbolizing the
age long gradual growth of her cultus among men. When
it fell to him to read the lesson towards the
close of the office. He read it in a veiled voice,
lulling his conscience to its music. Quasi qedrus exultata sum

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in libinon et quasi cupressus in montecion, Quasi palma exultata
sum in goddis et quasi plantatio rosai in jeriko quasiuliv
vas specciosa in campis etquasi platanus exultata sum euxta aquam

(08:06):
iplataeus sicut kinemomum et balsamum erumotizans odorem dedi et quasi
mira electa dedi swawiwatem odoris. His sin, which had covered
him from the sight of God, had led him nearer
to the refuge of sinners. Her eyes seemed to regard

(08:30):
him with mild pity, Her holiness a strange light glowing
faintly upon her frail flesh, did not humiliate the sinner
who approached her. If ever, he was impelled to cast
sin from him and to repent. The impulse that moved
him was the wish to be her knight. If ever,
his soul re entering her dwelling shyly after the frenzy

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of his body's lust had spent itself was turned towards her,
whose emblem is the morning Star, bright and musical, telling
of heaven and infusing peace. It was when her names
were murmured softly by lips, whereon there still lingered foul
and shameful words, the savor itself of a lude kiss

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that was strange. He tried to think how it could be,
but the dusk deepening in the school room covered over
his thoughts. The bell rang, the master marked the sums
and cuts to be done for the next lesson, and
went out. Heron beside Stephen began to hum tunelessly. My
excellent friend Bombardos Ennis, who had gone to the yard,

(09:37):
came back, saying, the boy from the house is coming
up for the rector. A tall boy behind Stephen rubbed
his hands and said, that's game ball. We can scut
the whole hour. He won't be in till half after two.
Then you can ask him questions on the Catechism Daedalus. Stephen,
leaning back and drawing idly on his scribbler, listened to

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the talk about him, which Heron checked from time to
time by saying, shut up, Will you don't make such
a bally racket. It was strange, too, that he found
an arid pleasure in following up to the end the
rigid lines of the doctrines of the Church, and penetrating
into obscure silences, only to hear and feel the more

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deeply his own condemnation. The sentence of Saint James, which
says that he who offends against one commandment becomes guilty
of all, had seemed to him first a swollen phrase,
until he had begun to grope, in the darkness of
his own state from the evil seed of lust. All
other deadly sins had sprung forth, Pride in himself and

(10:43):
contempt of others, covetousness in using money for the purchase
of unlawful pleasure, envy of those whose vices he could
not reach to, and calumnious murmuring against the pious, gluttonous
enjoyment of food. The dull, glowering anger amid which he
brooded upon his longing, the swamp of spiritual and bodily

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sloth in which his whole being had sunk. As he
sat on his bench, gazing calmly at the rector's shrewd,
harsh face, his mind wound itself in and out of
the curious questions proposed to it. If a man had
stolen a pound in his youth, and had used that
pound to amass a huge fortune, how much was he

(11:27):
obliged to give back the pound he had stolen only,
or the pound together with the compound interest accruing upon it,
or all his huge fortune. If a layman, in giving baptism,
pour the water before saying the words, is the child baptized?
Is baptism with mineral water valid? How comes it that,

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while the first beatitude promises the Kingdom of Heaven to
the poor of heart, the second beatitude promises also to
the meek, that they shall possess the land. Why was
the sacrament of the Eucharist in instituted under the two
species of bread and wine? If Jesus Christ be present
body and blood, soul and divinity in the bread alone

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and in the wine alone, does a tiny particle of
the consecrated bread contain all the body and blood of
Jesus Christ, or a part only of the body and blood.
If the wine change into vinegar and the host crumble
into corruption after they have been consecrated, is Jesus Christ
still present under their species, as God and as man.

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Here he is, here, he is a boy. From his
post at the window had seen the Rector come from
the house. All the catechisms were opened, and all heads
bent upon them silently. The Rector entered and took his
seat on the dais. A gentle kick from the tall
boy in the bench behind urged Stephen to ask a
difficult question. The rector did not ask for a catechism

(12:56):
to hear the lesson from. He clasped his hands on
the desk and said said The retreat will begin on
Wednesday afternoon in honor of Saint Francis Xavier, whose feast
day is Saturday. The retreat will go on from Wednesday
to Friday. On Friday, confession will be heard all the
afternoon after beads. If any boys have special confessors, perhaps

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it will be better for them not to change. Mass
will be on Saturday morning at nine o'clock, and general
communion for the whole college. Saturday will be a free day. Sunday,
of course, but Saturday and Sunday being free days, some
boys might be inclined to think that Monday is a
free day. Also, beware of making that mistake. I think

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you lawless, are likely to make that mistake, Ay, sir,
Why sir? A little wave of quiet mirth broke forth
over the class of boys. From the rector's grim smile,
Stephen's heart began slowly to fold and fade with fear,
like a withering flower. The rector went on gravely. You

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are all familiar with the story of the life of
Saint Francis Xavier, I suppose, the patron of your college.
He came of an old and illustrious Spanish family, and
you remember that he was one of the first followers
of Saint Ignatius. They met in Paris, where Francis Xavier
was a professor of philosophy at the university. This young

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and brilliant nobleman and man of letters entered heart and
soul into the ideas of our glorious founder. And you
know that he, at his own desire, was sent by
Saint Ignatius to preach to the Indians. He is called,
as you know, the Apostle of the Indies. He went
from country to country in the east, from Africa to India,

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from India to Japan, baptizing the people. He is said
to have baptized as many as ten thousand idolators in
one month. It is said that his right arm had
grown powerless from having been raised so often over the
heads of those whom he baptized. He wished then to
go to China to win still more souls for God,

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but he died of fever on the island of Sansion,
A great saint, Saint Francis Xavier, a great soldier of God.
The rector paused, and, then, shaking his clasped hands before him,
went on. He had the faith in him that moves mountains.
Ten thousand souls one for God in a single month.

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That is a true conqueror, true to the motto of
our order Ad Majoram de Gloriam, A saint who has
great power in heaven remember, power to intercede for us
in our grief, Power to obtain whatever we pray for,
if it be for the good of our souls. Power
above all, to obtain for us the grace to repent

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if we be in sin. A great saint, Saint Francis Xavier,
a great fisher of souls. He ceased to shake his
clasped hands, and resting them against his forehead, looked right
and left of them, keenly at his listeners out of
his dark, stern eyes. In the silence, their dark fire

(16:20):
kindled the dusk into a tawny glow. Stephen's heart had
withered up, like a flower of the desert that feels
the simum coming from afar. End of chapter three, Part
one of a portrait of the artist as a young man,