Улисс
Chapter 6
EnterMageeMorMatthew,aruggedroughrugheadedkern,instrosserswithabuttonedcodpiece,hisnetherstocksbemiredwithclauberoftenforests,awandofwildinginhishand.
Yourown?Heknowsyouroldfellow.Thewidower.
HurryingtohersqualiddeathlairfromgayParisonthequaysideItouchedhishand.Thevoice,newwarmth,speaking.DrBobKennyisattendingher.Theeyesthatwishmewell.Butdonotknowme.
—Afather,Stephensaid,battlingagainsthopelessness,isanecessaryevil.Hewrotetheplayinthemonthsthatfollowedhisfather’sdeath.Ifyouholdthathe,agreyingmanwithtwomarriageabledaughters,withthirtyfiveyearsoflife,nelmezzodelcammindinostravita,withfiftyofexperience,isthebeardlessundergraduatefromWittenbergthenyoumustholdthathisseventyyearoldmotheristhelustfulqueen.No.ThecorpseofJohnShakespearedoesnotwalkthenight.Fromhourtohouritrotsandrots.Herests,disarmedoffatherhood,havingdevisedthatmysticalestateuponhisson.Boccaccio’sCalandrinowasthefirstandlastmanwhofelthimselfwithchild.Fatherhood,inthesenseofconsciousbegetting,isunknowntoman.Itisamysticalestate,anapostolicsuccession,fromonlybegettertoonlybegotten.OnthatmysteryandnotonthemadonnawhichthecunningItalianintellectflungtothemobofEuropethechurchisfoundedandfoundedirremovablybecausefounded,liketheworld,macroandmicrocosm,uponthevoid.Uponincertitude,uponunlikelihood.Amormatris,subjectiveandobjectivegenitive,maybetheonlytruethinginlife.Paternitymaybealegalfiction.
