1st draft, January 1924, I.7§1 draft level 0

MS British Library 47471b 49v-53v Draft details

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Shem is |aa asa| short for Shemus as Jim is |ajokya| for Jacob. |aA few are found still who say thata| Originally of respectable connections his back life simply won't stand being written about.
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Cain — Ham (Shem) — Esau — Jim the Penman

wellknown for violent abuse of self & others

lives |aat expense of ratepayersa| in |ahaunteda| inkbottlehouse |ainfested with the raps |bthe worst, it is believed, in the western world for pure filthb|a|.

boycotted, local publican refuse to supply books, paper, |asynthetica| ink, foolscap, makes his own from dried dung sweetened with spittle (|aindeliblea| ink) writes universal history on his own body (parchment)

hospitality, all drunk & rightly indignant

1 eye halfopen, 1 arm, 42 hairs on his head, 17 on upper lip, 5 on chin, |athe wrong shoulder high than the righta|, 3 teeth, |aall ears,a| no feet, |a10 5a| thumbs, ½ a buttock, ½ & ½ a testicle, — — When is a man not a man?

A forger, can imitate all styles, none of his own.

1st copies of most original masterpieces |aeven the most venerated impostures were not spareda| slipped from his |aplagiarista| pen

Sings hymn: |alingua Linguaa| mea calamus scribae, veliciter scribentis.

So low was he that he preferred Lazenby's |ateatimea| tinned salmon |ainexpensive while pleasinga| to the plumpest roeheavy lax or frisky troutlet to be gaffed between Leixlip & Island bridge & |amany was the timea| he said no fresh pineapple ever tasted like the chunks in Heinzs cans.

He was able to write in the gloom of his bottle only because |aofa| his noseglow nose's glow as it slid over the paper and while he scribbled & scratched nameless shamelessnesses about |aothers everybody ever he met even under a rlwy bridge out of a showera| over & over his foul text he used to draw endless portraits of himself up and down the two margins as a strikingly handsome young man with lyrics in his eyes and a lovely pair of |ainkya| Italian moustaches. How unwhisperably low!
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None of your |anice long & thicka| bloody beefsteaks or juicy legs of melting mutton or fat belly bacon or greasy gristly pigs' feet or slice upon slice of luscious goose bosom with lump |aupon aftera| lump of rich stuffing swamping |aina| grand brown gravy for him. Once when in a state of helplessly hopeless inebriation |ahe tried to lifta| the peel of a citron to his nostrils & hiccupped |aapparently impromptua| |ato his disreputable withswillers who |bwhen they found they cd not carry another dropb| were rightly indignant at his hospitalitya| that he could live all his days on the smell of it, as the citr, as the cedron, as the cedar on the founts on the mountains, lemon on, of Lebanon. T O, the lowness of him was beyond all that was ever known sunk to. No firewater or first shot or gutburning gin or honest red or brown beer. No. O no. But he |abotched up sobbed himself sicka| some kind of a wheywhinging rhubarbarous yallagreen decoction of |asour soureda| grapes |aaccording to & to heara| him |aretching offa| it in his |asentimentalisinga| cups it came straight from the noble white fat, the most noble wide |asata| her white hide that, from the winevat of the |a|blovely exquisiteb|a| archduchess, Fanny Urinia. Talk about lowness! Low |awretch wretched tutora| that he was he used to boast that he had been put out of all the best |aKlondykera| families who had settled in the capital city |aafter its metropoliarchialisationa| |agenerally in most casesa| on account of his smell which all cookmaids objected to. In place of tutoring |athe these |bbestb|a| outlander families plain
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wholesome handwriting (a thing he never possessed of his own) what do you think he did but |acopy studied with stolen fruit how to copya| all their various styles of signature they had so as to utter |alargea| forged cheques in public for his own profit until, as just related, the Dublin United Scullerymaids |a& house helpsa| kicked |ahim the source of annoyancea| out of the place altogether |ain the heat of the momenta| |aon account of his stink making some remark as they did so about the way he stunka|? It was generally hoped |awhen he got into debt heavily locallya| he wd develop |asuspecteda| hereditary pulmonary T.B. |aand one pelting night |bbedded blanketedb| folk hearing a coarse song & splash thought all was overa| but of course not even there was he true to type. Low! |aWhole continents rang with his lowness!a| He treasured all unkind words |awith condign satisfactiona|. If ever in the public interest delicate hints were put to him |aduring a conversazione |bby wellwishers pleading with him to be a manb|a| such as: Do What is the meaning of that foreign word |aif you ever came across ita|, we think it is canaille?: or: |ado you ever did you anywhere|b, captain,b|a| in your |atales ofa| travels happen to meet a gentleman |anamed by the name of |bsomething like |cLowc|b|a| Bugger |awho lives on loans & is 35 yrs of agea|?: he would begin |awithout a sign of haste like a |bfirst class supremeb| prig |bwith a vacant |clandlubberc| lookb|a| to tell |aalla| the persons |ain the conversazionea| the whole lifelong story of his low existence explaining the meanings of all the other foreign words he used and telling every lie imaginable about all the other people |ain the story whoma| he met except the simple word and person they had asked him about until they were completely undeceived.
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Of course he disliked a good sensible row and once when he was called in as umpire in an octagonal argument among blank the low |amean wretch agreed evilsmelling washouta| always |arubbed shouldersa| with the last speaker |a& |bquite fullyb| agreed |bwith all his heartb| with every single word as soon as uttered & absorbeda| while he |anudged the one who was speaking |bnudged the octagonist who was speaking at once turned his attention to the next octagonist who managed to speak nudging him &b| |basking imploringb| him out of his piteous eyesa| to fill |aupa| his |aglass tumblera| for him. |aOne night As recently as 20 yrs agoa| he was alternately kicked |athrough the deserted villagea| from 82 Dublin Square as far as the lefthand corner of |aEurope Europaa| Parade by two groups of argumentalists who finally |awent home disgustedly thought they had better be going home disgustedlya|, |aone & alla| reconciled to a friendship, fast & furious, solely on account of his |aperfecta| lowness. |aIt was |bthusb| hoped that people might, after giving him a roll in the dust, pity & forgive him but—a|
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He never could be |agot draggeda| to play rational national |aflesh & blooda| games such as hat in the ring, Shiela |aHarnetta| & |athe hera| cow, here's the fat to grease the priest's boots, & it is now notoriously known |athat when how on |bthat surprisinglyb|a| bloody Sunday when the grand germogall fight |abattle all star bouta| was |agailya| raging between those fighting men extraordinary |a& Irish eyes |bof blueb| were smilinga| he |afled for his bare lifea| corked himself up in his inkbottle |a|bmuch badlyb| the worse for drinka| and hid under a bedtick |awith his face enveloped in an overcoata| semiparalysed |aby |ballb| the shemozzle where under the sacred shield of cowardice, witha| his face & trousers |achanging changeda| colour ever time a |arifle spoke gat croakeda|.

A drug addict, too, his manner |awhen he was at a loose enda| was to write strings of honourable, learned, highplaced |aneoclassicala| initials after his name while, if you could only have seen into his den, whenever he made believe to read one of his tattered chapbooks he did nothing but turn over three or 4 pages at a time growling because what with the bad light, the dirty print, the torn page, the scum in his eyes, the drink in his stomach, the rats in his garret and the hullabaloo in his ears |ablank he was not fit to memorise as much as a word a minutea| D Was there ever heard of such low down blackguardism?
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Nabuchodonosor himself had not such a high & mighty opinion of himself as had this mental defective who bragged |aon one occasion to an interlocutora| in a bar that he was aware of no other person either exactly unlike or precisely the same as what I know or imagine I am myself. After bloody Sunday, though every door in |amuchtrieda| Lucalizod was smeared with generous gore and the every cobbleway slippery with the blood of heroes, the low waster never had the pluck to venture out while everyone else |a|bof the city throngb|, slashers & sliced alike,a| waded about |aona| their usual avocations for the only once he took a peep through his keyhole |ato find out whether conciliation was forging ahead or falling back and whya| |ahea| found himself looking into the barrel |aof an irregular revolver at point blank range at point blank range of an irregular revolver |b|cof the bulldog patternc| of some unknown quarreler |cwho supposedly had been told off to shade Shem shd he |dcome out stir out awhiled| to be creasedc|b|a|. Lowness visibly oozed out from this dirty little beetle for the very first instant the Thornton girl |awith her kodaka| saw |ahim the as yet unremunerated national apostate who was genuinely gum gun & camera shy,a| |awalking taking a short cut |bwhen returning from a funeralb|a| into |aa Patatapapaveri'sa| fruiterer & florist |aby the wrong |bgoodsb| entrancea| she knew he was a bad fast man by his walk on the spot.
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Furthermore the low creature was a selfvaletter, having got up a kitchenette & fowlhouse for the sake of the eggs in what was meant for a closet
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Primum |aflens eta| gemens in manum |asuama| evacuavit

(sh-t in his hand, |agroaning sorrya|)

postea stercus proprium, quod appelavit dejectiones |ameae measa|, exoneratus in poculum |atristitiaea| posuit, |aidem eodem |blentiter etb|a| melliflue minxit psalmum qui incipit Lingua mea calamus scribae velociter scribentis magna voce cantitans

(did a p-ss, says he was dejected, asks to be exonerated)

denique ex stercore |avili turpia| mix cum |adivia| Orionis jucunditate encaustum sibi fecit indele indelibilem

(|amaker ofa| O'Ryan's, the devil's own ink)
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And hear this more. At the time of his last disappearance in public petty constable Sigurdsen, who had been detailed to save him from lynch law |a& mob maulinga|, |aran after greeteda| him just as he was butting in through the door with a hideful saying as usual: Wherefore have they that? here? |aa dog mean herring?a| All Shem said was: Search me.

The peace officer was |aliterallya| astounded at the capaciousness of the wineskin & even more so when informed |aby the human outcome of drink & dirta| that she was merely bringing home 2 gallons of porter for his mother.

But enough of |asuch infernala| lowness |atoo base for wordsa|. We cannot stay here all day discussing Mr Shem the Penman's thirst