Dubliners

James Joyce

• Editore: Youcanprint
• Anno: 2017
• ISBN:
  9788892698284
• Argomento: Letteratura
• Categoria: Classici

Dubliners is a collection of fifteen short stories by James Joyce, first published in 1914. They form a naturalistic depiction of Irish middle class life in and around Dublin in the early years of the 20th century. The stories were written when Irish nationalism was at its peak, and a search for a national identity and purpose was raging; at a crossroads of history and culture, Ireland was jolted by various converging ideas and influences. They centre on Joyce's idea of an epiphany: a moment where a character experiences a life-changing self-understanding or illumination. Many of the characters in Dubliners later appear in minor roles in Joyce's novel Ulysses. The initial stories in the collection are narrated by child protagonists, and as the stories continue, they deal with the lives and concerns of progressively older people. This is in line with Joyce's tripartite division of the collection into childhood, adolescence and maturity.

THE DEAD

Lily, the caretaker’s daughter, was literally run off herfeet. Hardly had she brought one gentleman into the little pantrybehind the officeon the ground floor and helped him off with hisovercoat than the wheezy hall-door bell clanged again and she hadto scamper along the bare hallway to let in another guest. It waswell for her she had not to attend to the ladies also. But MissKate and Miss Julia had thought of that and had converted thebathroom upstairs into a ladies’ dressing-room. Miss Kate andMiss Julia were there, gossiping and laughing and fussing, walkingafter each other to the head of the stairs, peering down over thebanistersand calling down to Lily to ask her who had come.

It was always a great affair, the Misses Morkan’s annualdance. Everybody who knew them came to it, members of the family,old friends of the family, the members of Julia’s choir, anyof Kate’s pupils thatwere grown up enough, and even some ofMary Jane’s pupils too. Never once had it fallen flat. Foryears and years it had gone off in splendid style as long as anyonecould remember; ever since Kate and Julia, after the death of theirbrother Pat, had leftthe house in Stoney Batter and taken MaryJane, their only niece, to live with them in the dark gaunt houseon Usher’s Island, the upper part of which they had rentedfrom Mr Fulham, the corn-factor on the ground floor. That was agood thirty years ago ifit was a day. Mary Jane, who was then alittle girl in short clothes, was now the main prop of thehousehold, for she had the organ in Haddington Road. She had beenthrough the Academy and gave a pupils’ concert every year inthe upper room of the AntientConcert Rooms. Many of her pupilsbelonged to the better-class families on the Kingstown and Dalkeyline. Old as they were, her aunts also did their share. Julia,though she was quite grey, was still the leading soprano in Adamand Eve’s, and Kate, being too feeble to go about much, gavemusic lessons to beginners on the old square piano in the backroom. Lily, the caretaker’s daughter, did housemaid’swork for them. Though their life was modest they believed in eatingwell; the best of everything: diamond-bone sirloins, three-shillingtea and the best bottled stout. But Lily seldom made a mistake inthe orders so that she got on well with her three mistresses. Theywere fussy, that was all. But the only thing they would not standwas back answers.

Of coursethey had good reason to be fussy on such a night. Andthen it was long after ten o’clock and yet there was no signof Gabriel and his wife. Besides they were dreadfully afraid thatFreddy Malins might turn up screwed. They would not wish for worldsthat any of Mary Jane’s pupils should see him under theinfluence; and when he was like that it was sometimes very hard tomanage him. Freddy Malins always came late but they wondered whatcould be keeping Gabriel: and that was what brought them every twominutes to the banisters to ask Lily had Gabriel or Freddycome.

“O, Mr Conroy,” said Lily to Gabriel when she openedthe door for him, “Miss Kate and Miss Julia thought you werenever coming. Good-night, Mrs Conroy.”

“I’ll engage they did,” said Gabriel,“but they forget that my wife here takes three mortal hoursto dress herself.”

He stood on the mat, scraping the snow from his goloshes, whileLily led his wife to the foot of the stairs and called out:

“Miss Kate, here’s Mrs Conroy.”

Kate and Julia came toddling down the dark stairs at once. Bothof them kissed Gabriel’s wife, said she must be perishedalive and asked was Gabriel with her.

“Here I am as right as the mail, Aunt Kate! Go on up.I’ll follow,” called out Gabriel from the dark.

He continued scrapinghis feet vigorously while the three womenwent upstairs, laughing, to the ladies’ dressing-room. Alight fringe of snow lay like a cape on the shoulders of hisovercoat and like toecaps on the toes of his goloshes; and, as thebuttons of his overcoat slipped with a squeaking noise through thesnow-stiffened frieze, a cold, fragrant air from out-of-doorsescaped from crevices and folds.

“Is it snowing again, Mr Conroy?” asked Lily.

She had preceded him into the pantry to help him off with hisovercoat. Gabriel smiled at the three syllables she had given hissurname and glanced at her. She was a slim, growing girl, pale incomplexion and with hay-coloured hair. The gas in the pantry madeher look still paler. Gabriel had known her when she was a childand usedto sit on the lowest step nursing a rag doll.

“Yes, Lily,” he answered, “and I thinkwe’re in for a night of it.”

He looked up at the pantry ceiling, which was shaking with thestamping and shuffling of feet on the floor above, listened for amoment to the piano and then glanced at the girl, who was foldinghis overcoat carefully at the end of a shelf.

“Tell me, Lily,” he said in a friendly tone,“do you still go to school?”

“O no, sir,” she answered. “I’m doneschooling this year and more.”

“O, then,” said Gabriel gaily, “I supposewe’ll be going to your wedding one of these fine days withyour young man, eh?”

The girl glanced back at him over her shoulder and said withgreat bitterness:

“The men that is now is only all palaver and what they canget out ofyou.”

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

He was a stout tallish young man. The high colour of his cheekspushed upwards even to his forehead where it scattered itself in afew formless patches of pale red; and on his hairless face therescintillated restlessly the polished lenses and the bright giltrims of the glasses which screened his delicate and restless eyes.His glossy black hair was parted in the middle and brushed in along curve behind his ears where it curled slightly beneath thegroove left by his hat.

When he had flicked lustre into his shoes he stood up and pulledhis waistcoat down more tightly on his plumpbody. Then he took acoin rapidly from his pocket.

“O 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.

“O 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 indeprecation.

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

“Well, thank you, sir.”

He waited outsidethe drawing-room door until the waltz shouldfinish, listening to the skirts that swept against it and to theshuffling of feet. He was still discomposed by the girl’sbitter and sudden retort. It had cast a gloom over him which hetried to dispel by arranging his cuffs and the bows of his tie. Hethen took from his waistcoat pocket a little paper and glanced atthe headings he had made for his speech. He was undecided about thelines from Robert Browning for he feared they would be above theheads of his hearers. Some quotation that they would recognise fromShakespeare or from the Melodies would be better. The indelicateclacking of the men’s heels and the shuffling of their solesreminded him that their grade of culture differed from his. Hewould only make himself ridiculous by quoting poetry to them whichthey could not understand. They would think that he was airing hissuperior education. He would fail with them just as he had failedwith the girl in the pantry. He had taken up a wrong tone. Hiswholespeech 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 overthe tops of her ears, was grey; and grey also, with darker shadows,was her large flaccid face. Though she was stout in build and stooderect her slow eyes and parted lips gave her the appearance of awoman who did not know where she was or where she was going. AuntKate was more vivacious. Her face, healthier than hersister’s, was all puckers and creases, like a shrivelled redapple, and her hair, braided in the same old-fashioned way, had notlost 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 backto Monkstown tonight, Gabriel,” said Aunt Kate.

“No,” said Gabriel, turning to his wife, “wehad quite enough of that last year, hadn’t we? Don’tyou remember, Aunt Kate, what a cold Gretta got out of it? Cabwindows rattling all the way, and the east wind blowing in after wepassed Merrion. Very jolly it was. Gretta caught a dreadfulcold.”

Aunt Kate frowned severely and nodded her head at everyword.

“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 werelet.”

Mrs Conroy laughed.

“Don’t mind him, Aunt Kate,” she said.“He’s really an awful bother, what with green shadesfor Tom’s eyes at night and making him do the dumb-bells, andforcing Eva to eat the stirabout. The poor child! And she simplyhates the sight of it!... O, but you’ll neverguess what hemakes me wear now!”

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

“Goloshes!” said Mrs Conroy. “That’s thelatest. Whenever it’s wet underfoot I must put on mygoloshes. Tonight even he wanted me to put them on, but Iwouldn’t. The next thing he’ll buy me will be a divingsuit.”

Gabriel laughed nervously and patted his tie reassuringly whileAunt Kate nearly doubled herself, so heartily did she enjoy thejoke. The smile soon faded from Aunt Julia’s face and hermirthless eyes were directed towards her nephew’s face. Aftera pause she asked:

“And whatare goloshes, Gabriel?”

“Goloshes, Julia!” exclaimed her sister“Goodness me, don’t you know what goloshes are? Youwear them over your ... over your boots, Gretta, isn’tit?”

“Yes,” said Mrs Conroy. “Guttapercha things.We both have a pair now. Gabriel says everyone wears them on thecontinent.”

“O, on the continent,” murmured Aunt Julia, noddingher head slowly.

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

“It’s nothing very wonderful but Gretta thinks itvery funny because she says the word reminds her of ChristyMinstrels.”

“But tell me, Gabriel,” said Aunt Kate, with brisktact. “Of course, you’ve seen about the room. Grettawas saying....”

“O, the room is all right,” replied Gabriel.“I’ve taken one in the Gresham.”

“To be sure,” said Aunt Kate, “by far the bestthing to do. And the children, Gretta, you’re not anxiousabout them?”

“O, for one night,” said Mrs Conroy. “Besides,Bessie will look after them.”

“To be sure,” said Aunt Kate again. “What acomfort it is to have a girllike that, one you can depend on!There’s that Lily, I’m sure I don’t know what hascome over her lately. She’s not the girl she was atall.”

Gabriel was about to ask his aunt some questions on this pointbut she broke off suddenly to gaze after her sisterwho had wandereddown 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 yougoing?”

Julia, who had gone half way down one flight, came back andannouncedblandly:

“Here’s Freddy.”

At the same moment a clapping of hands and a final flourish ofthe pianist told that the waltz had ended. The drawing-room doorwas opened from within and some couples came out. Aunt Kate drewGabriel aside hurriedly and whisperedinto his ear:

“Slip down, Gabriel, like a good fellow and see ifhe’s all right, and don’t let him up if he’sscrewed. I’m sure he’s screwed. I’m sure heis.”

Gabriel went to the stairs and listened over the banisters. Hecould hear two persons talking inthe pantry. Then he recognisedFreddy Malins’ laugh. He went down the stairs noisily.

“It’s such a relief,” said Aunt Kate to MrsConroy, “that Gabriel is here. I always feel easier in mymind when he’s here.... Julia, there’s Miss Daly andMiss Power will take some refreshment. Thanks for your beautifulwaltz, Miss Daly. It made lovely time.”

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

“And may we have some refreshment, too, MissMorkan?”

“Julia,” said Aunt Kate summarily, “andhere’s Mr Browne and Miss Furlong. Take them in, Julia, withMiss Daly and Miss Power.”

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

He did not finish his sentence, but, seeing that Aunt Kate wasout of earshot, at once led the three young ladies into the backroom. The middle of the room was occupied by two square tablesplaced end to end, and on these Aunt Julia and the caretaker werestraightening and smoothing a large cloth. On the sideboard werearrayed dishes and plates, and glasses and bundles of knives andforks and spoons. The top of the closed square piano served also asa sideboard for viands and sweets. At a smaller sideboard in onecorner two young men were standing, drinking hop-bitters.

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

“God help me,” he said, smiling, “it’sthe doctor’s orders.”

His wizened face broke into a broader smile, and the three youngladies laughed in musical echo to his pleasantry, swaying theirbodies to and fro, with nervous jerks of their shoulders. Theboldest said:

“O, now, Mr Browne, I’m sure the doctor neverordered anything of the kind.”

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

“Well, you see, I’m like the famous Mrs Cassidy, whois reported to have said: ‘Now, Mary Grimes, if I don’ttake it, make me take it, for I feel I want it.’”

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

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

“Quadrilles! Quadrilles!”

Close on her heels came Aunt Kate, crying:

“Two gentl...