Annotated Stephen Hero ch19.c

[Jorn Barger]

Stephen did not consider his parents very seriously. In his
opinion they had opened up misleading and unnatural relations
between themselves and him

This reminds me of a U-Cyclops notesheet-note: "Contracts invalidated by
violence done to 1 party [therefore] social contract no validity for
individual constrained >by violence of birth< to enter the society of
the living on their terms."

One of SD's key strategies for flying past Ireland's nets is to refer
the blame for his actions and character onto his history. ('History is
to blame' ...not me.)

and he considered their affection for him requited by a studious
demeanour towards them

Even as he reveals his true, unstudious demeanour to others?

and by a genuine goodwill to perform for them a great
number of such material services as, in his present state of
fierce idealism, he could look upon as trifles.

One surprising example-- according to PoA04, when he saw 'Lucy' he was
collecting shellfish for the family dinner.

The only
material services he would refuse them were those which he
judged to be spiritually dangerous and it is as well to admit
that this exception all but nullified his charity for he had
cultivated an independence of the soul which could brook very
few subjections. Divine exemplars abetted him in this.

So he invoked the example of Jesus, when refusing to serve his parents.
(A scene _showing_ this would have been nice-- but I guess 'abetted'
doesn't necessarily imply he _mentioned_ that exemplar.)

The phrase which preachers elaborate into a commandment of
obedience seemed to him meagre, ironical and inconclusive
and the narrative of the life of Jesus did not in any way
impress him as the narrative of the life of one who was
subject to others. When he had been a Roman Catholic in the
proper sense of the term

(He'll announce his apostasy to Cranly shortly.)

the figure of Jesus had always
seemed to him too remote and too passionless and he had
never uttered from his heart a single fervent prayer to the
Redeemer: it was to Mary, as to a weaker and more engaging
vessel of salvation, that he had entrusted his spiritual
affairs.

So his ejaculations-while-walking wouldn't have been 'Lord Jesus Christ
have mercy on me' but the equivalent for Mary (which was what?).

Now his enfranchisement from the discipline of the Church

'from' must imply he's been enfranchised by _escaping_ that discipline,
rather than being enfranchised by having submitted in the past?

seemed to be coincident with an instinctive return to
the Founder thereof

He's changing from trying to be Mary's loyal vassal, to trying to
emulate Jesus at his most uncompromising.

and this impulse would have led him
perhaps to a consideration of the merits of Protestantism

(So as not to have to, eg, bow to the Pope?)

had not another natural impulse inclined him to bring even the
self-contradictory and the absurd into order.

Weak-- I think this just anticipates his later comment about
Catholicism's absurdities being more logical than Protestantism's.

He did not know, besides, whether the haughtiness of the Papacy was
not as derivable from Jesus himself as the reluctance to be pressed
beyond "Amen: I say to you" for an account of anything

(Is the latter supposed to be a Protestant trait, then?)

but he was quite sure that behind the enigmatic
utterances of Jesus there was a very much more definite
conception than any which could be supposed discoverable
behind Protestant theology.

This echoes (a bit) Newman's conversion at Oxford in the 1830s-40s (from
Anglican to Catholic).

-- Put this in your diary, he said to transcriptive Maurice.
Protestant Orthodoxy is like Lanty McHale's dog: it goes a bit
of the road with everyone.

-- It seems to me that S. Paul trained that dog, said Maurice.

How was Paul more compromising than Jesus? (This Maurice is wildly
unlike the ball-of-the-foot lunatic.)

One day when Stephen had gone to the College by accident

Heh!

he found McCann standing in the hall holding a long testimonial.

A printed page, maybe something he mailed away for?

Another part of the testimonial was on the hall-table and
nearly all the young men in the College were signing their
names to it. McCann was speaking volubly to a little group
and Stephen discovered that the testimonial was the tribute
of Dublin University students to the Tsar of Russia.

Nicholas II became Tsar in 1894, and in August 1898 called for a peace
conference to stop the global arms race. It was held the following May:
http://www.afsc.org/pwork/0699/0605.htm

World-wide peace: solution of all disputes by arbitration:
general disarming of the nations: these were the benefits for
which the students were returning their thanks. On the hall
table there were two photographs, one of the Tsar of Russia,
the other of the Editor of the Review of Reviews:

WT Stead had joined in promoting the peace conference:
http://newsstead.itgo.com/Steadpage.html

both of the
photographs were signed by the famous couple. As McCann
was standing sideways to the light Stephen amused himself in
tracing a resemblance between him and the the pacific
Emperor whose photograph had been taken in profile. The
Tsar's air of besotted Christ moved him to scorn

Pix: http://www.robotwisdom.com/jaj/portrait/index.html#v

So we're being asked to compare four 'Christs': McCann, Nicholas,
Stephen, and Jesus.

and he turned for support to Cranly who was standing beside the
door.

Not yet fully independent.

Cranly wore a very dirty yellow straw hat in the shape of an
inverted bucket

With an unmentioned brim, surely.

in the shelter of which his face was composed to a glaucuous calm.

glaucous (no 2nd 'u') = pale grey-blue-green-yellow (also 'having a
powdery or waxy coating that gives a frosted appearance and tends to rub
off'?)

-- Doesn't he look a wirrasthrue Jaysus? said Stephen

(Translation?)

pointing to the Tsar's photograph and using the Dublin version
of the name as an effective common noun.

Stannie says Gogarty originated 'Jaysus' for 'fellow' (and 'box' for
room, cf 'godbox').

Cranly looked in the direction of McCann and replied, nodding
his head:

-- Wirrasthrue Jaysus and hairy Jaysus.

At that moment McCann caught sight of Stephen and signalled
that he would be with him in a moment.

-- Have you signed? asked Cranly.

-- This thing? No-- have you?

Cranly hesitated and then brought out a well deliberated 'Yes'.

-- What for?

-- What for?

-- Ay.

-- For... Pax.

Stephen looked up under the bucket-shaped hat but could read
no expression on his neighbour's face.

SD thinks Cranly should have known better.

His eyes wandered up to the dinged vertex of the hat.

-- In the name of God what do you wear that hat for? It's not
so terribly hot, is it? he asked.

Cranly took off the hat slowly and gazed into its depths.
After a little pause he pointed into it and said:

-- Viginti-uno denarios.

21 shillings would be one guinea, implying it was bought at a high-class
shop.

-- Where? said Stephen.

-- I bought it, said Cranly very impressively and very flatly,
last summer in Wickla.

He looked back into the hat and said, smiling with a sour
affection:

-- It's not... too bloody bad... of a hat... D'ye know.

And he replaced it on his head slowly, murmuring to himself,
from force of habit 'Viginti-uno denarios.'

-- Sicut bucketus est, said Stephen.

'It's just like a bucket.'

The subject was not discussed further. Cranly produced a
little grey ball from one of his pockets and began to examine
it carefully, indenting the surface at many points.

Byrne was a serious handball enthusiast.

Stephen was watching this operation when he heard McCann
addressing him.

-- I want you to sign this testimonial.

-- What about?

-- It's a testimonial of admiration for the courage displayed
by the Tsar of Russia in issuing a rescript to the Powers,
advocating arbitration instead of war as a means of settling
national disputes.

Stephen shook his head. Temple who had been wandering
round the hall in search of sympathy came over at this
moment and said to Stephen:

-- Do you believe in peace?

No-one answered him.

-- So you won't sign? said McCann.

Stephen shook his head again.

-- Why not? said McCann sharply.

-- If we must have a Jesus, answered Stephen, let us have a
legitimate Jesus.

(Which Stephen is currently aiming seriously to become?)

-- By hell! said Temple laughing, that's good. Did you hear
that? he said to Cranly and McCann both of whom he seemed
to regard as very hard of hearing. D'you hear that? Legitima'
Jesus!

-- I presume then you approve of war and slaughter, said
McCann.

-- I did not make the world, said Stephen.

-- By hell! said Temple to Cranly. I believe in universal
brotherhood. 'Scuse me, he said, turning to McCann, do you
believe in universal brotherhood?

McCann took no heed of the question but continued addressing
Stephen. He began an argument in favour of peace which
Temple listened to for a few moments, but, as he spoke with
his back to Temple, that revolutionary young man who could
not hear him very well began to wander round the hall again.
Stephen did not argue with McCann but at a convenient pause
he said:

-- I have no intention of signing.

McCann halted and Cranly said, taking Stephen's arm:

-- Nos ad manum ballum jocabimus.

'Let's play handball.'

-- All right, said McCann promptly, as if he was accustomed
to rebuffs, if you won't, you won't.

(Joyce seems to be offering this as an example of flabby, un-Christ-like
thinking.)

He went off to get more signatures for the Tsar while Cranly
and Stephen went out into the garden. The ball-alley was deserted

I think it was Byrne's advocacy got this ball-alley built.

so they arranged a match of twenty, Cranly
allowing Stephen seven points. Stephen had not had much
practice at the game and so he was only seventeen when
Cranly cried out 'Game Ball.' He lost the second game also.

Byrne says Joyce played "somewhat in the manner of an unathletic girl."
Joyce much preferred cricket.

Cranly was a strong, accurate player but Stephen thought too
heavy of foot to be a brilliant one. While they were playing
Madden came into the alley and sat down on an old box. He
was much more excited than either of the players and kept
kicking the box with his heels and crying out "Now, Cranly!
Now, Cranly!" "But it, Stevie!"

Should be 'Butt it'?

Cranly who had to serve the third game put the ball over the side
of the alley into Lord Iveagh's grounds

One of the two Guinness heirs (Iveagh and Ardilaun) occasionally
mentioned in FW.

and the game had to wait while he went in
search of it. Stephen sat down on his heels beside Madden and
they both looked up at the figure of Cranly who was holding
on to the netting and making signals to one of the gardeners
from the top of the wall. Madden took out smoking materials:

-- Are you and Cranly long here?

-- Not long, said Stephen.

Madden began to stuff very coarse tobacco into his pipe:

-- D'ye know what, Stevie?

-- What?

-- Hughes... doesn't like you... at all. I heard him speaking of
you to someone.

-- 'Someone' is vague.

(I think this useful critical meme was one that Joyce's friends shared.)

SD may be implying he thinks Hughes was speaking to Madden, but since
they were both nationalists it might have been anyone in that crowd.

-- He doesn't like you at all.

-- His enthusiasm carries him away, said Stephen.

(Despite the detached pose, Joyce would still be taking potshots at
Walsh 20 years later, in Nausikaa. He probably embodied more than
anyone else the violent temper that made Joyce afraid to visit Ireland
casually. Another UC student, Michael Lennon, would publish a libellous
attack on Joyce and his father in the 'Catholic World' in 1931.)

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