Eveline thinks about people she has known who have either left Ireland a priest who has traveled to Melbourne, for example or died her mother and her brother Ernestand of her own plans to leave the country with a man named Frank. She recalls meeting Frank, an Irish sailor now living in Argentina, and dating him while he visited Dublin on vacation.
Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. The man out of the last house passed on his way home; she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red houses.
Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it Eveline moral not like their little brown houses but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue used to play together in that field -- the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters.
Ernest, however, never played: Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick; but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive.
That was a long time ago; she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and the Waters had gone back to England.
Now she was going to go away like the others, to leave her home.
She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from. Perhaps she would never see again those familiar objects from which she had never dreamed of being divided.
And yet during all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing photograph hung on the wall above the broken harmonium beside the coloured print of the promises made to Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque.
He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he showed the photograph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word: She tried to weigh each side of the question.
In her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had known all her life about her. O course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business.
What would they say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled up by advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge on her, especially whenever there were people listening.
But in her new home, in a distant unknown country, it would not be like that. Then she would be married -- she, Eveline. People would treat her with respect then. She would not be treated as her mother had been. She knew it was that that had given her the palpitations.
And no she had nobody to protect her. Ernest was dead and Harry, who was in the church decorating business, was nearly always down somewhere in the country. Besides, the invariable squabble for money on Saturday nights had begun to weary her unspeakably. She always gave her entire wages -- seven shillings -- and Harry always sent up what he could but the trouble was to get any money from her father.
Then she had to rush out as quickly as she could and do her marketing, holding her black leather purse tightly in her hand as she elbowed her way through the crowds and returning home late under her load of provisions.
She had hard work to keep the house together and to see that the two young children who had been left to hr charge went to school regularly and got their meals regularly. It was hard work -- a hard life -- but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.
She was about to explore another life with Frank. Frank was very kind, manly, open-hearted. She was to go away with him by the night-boat to be his wife and to live with him in Buenos Ayres where he had a home waiting for her.
How well she remembered the first time she had seen him; he was lodging in a house on the main road where she used to visit. It seemed a few weeks ago.
He was standing at the gate, his peaked cap pushed back on his head and his hair tumbled forward over a face of bronze. Then they had come to know each other. He used to meet her outside the Stores every evening and see her home. He took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated as she sat in an unaccustomed part of the theatre with him.In the story "Eveline," Eveline suffers from what Joyce termed "paralysis." This is the stultifying pull of external and moral forces, which are linked to the traditions of Catholicism and the.
Eveline Moral In “ Eveline,” James Joyce uses the juxtaposition of the ever-changing setting and the unchanging stoic character of Eveline in order to exemplify .
EVELINE by James Joyce Summary: The story begins with Eveline, a young woman from Dublin, Ireland, who is the lack of moral hope, and spiritual emptiness, which combine to stop any positive change in many of its characters.
Eveline is an example of this. She is doomed and completely. View the profiles of people named Eveline Moral. Join Facebook to connect with Eveline Moral and others you may know. Facebook gives people the power to.
This article analyzes James Joyce’s “Eveline” (), looking at the moral panic about “white slavery” in Europe and South America. The article especially focuses on Argentina, the foremost recipient of trafficked women between and (and, of course, Joyce’s destination choice for Eveline).
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