A Portrait of the Artist as a Young ManJoyce, James
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A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Joyce, James
Artists -- Fiction; Autobiographical fiction; Bildungsromans; Dublin (Ireland) -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
But he had been forewarned of the dangers of spiritual exaltation and
did not allow himself to desist from even the least or lowliest
devotion, striving also by constant mortification to undo the sinful
past rather than to achieve a saintliness fraught with peril. Each of
his senses was brought under a rigorous discipline. In order to mortify
the sense of sight he made it his rule to walk in the street with
downcast eyes, glancing neither to right nor left and never behind him.
His eyes shunned every encounter with the eyes of women. From time to
time also he balked them by a sudden effort of the will, as by lifting
them suddenly in the middle of an unfinished sentence and closing the
book. To mortify his hearing he exerted no control over his voice which
was then breaking, neither sang nor whistled, and made no attempt to
flee from noises which caused him painful nervous irritation such as
the sharpening of knives on the knifeboard, the gathering of cinders on
the fireshovel and the twigging of the carpet. To mortify his smell was
more difficult as he found in himself no instinctive repugnance to bad
odours whether they were the odours of the outdoor world, such as those
of dung or tar, or the odours of his own person among which he had made
many curious comparisons and experiments. He found in the end that the
only odour against which his sense of smell revolted was a certain
stale fishy stink like that of longstanding urine; and whenever it was
possible he subjected himself to this unpleasant odour. To mortify the
taste he practised strict habits at table, observed to the letter all
the fasts of the church and sought by distraction to divert his mind
from the savours of different foods. But it was to the mortification of
touch he brought the most assiduous ingenuity of inventiveness. He
never consciously changed his position in bed, sat in the most
uncomfortable positions, suffered patiently every itch and pain, kept
away from the fire, remained on his knees all through the mass except
at the gospels, left part of his neck and face undried so that air
might sting them and, whenever he was not saying his beads, carried his
arms stiffly at his sides like a runner and never in his pockets or
clasped behind him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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