: III.3 474.3: “wallet…staff:” insignia of pilgrim. (Jaun/Yawn was starting a pilgrimage to Jerusalem at 468.23-469.28.) 474.3: “citron:” a Mediterranean tree 474.4: “stick-pass-on:” the “staff” (.3) as baton in a relay race 474.4-5: “His dream monologue was over, of cause, but his drama parapolylogic had yet to be:” III.3 will in fact be a chapter of many (contending) voices. 474.5: “of cause,…affect:” of course…in fact 474.6: “my dear:” the first of a series of addresses to the reader, after the convention of “Dear reader” 474.7: “his locks of lucan tinge:” Shaun/Jaun/Yawn is, often, the light-haired one. 474.7: “rippling:” because viewed through rippling surface of the body of water into which Yawn sank at the end of the last chapter. See next entry. 474.7: “unfilleted:” the hair is unbound by a loosened fillet – a ribbon or headband. (Untied and underwater, it would naturally be “ripely rippling” (.7).) 474.8: ”lashbetasselled lids:” eyelashes with eyelids 474.9: “ouze of his sidewiseopen mouth:” as in, the mouth of England’s River Ouse: its name derives from Danish os, mouth. 474.9: “sidewiseopen:” expression: side of the mouth 474.9-10: “evenso languishing as the princeliest treble treacle or lichee chewchow purse could buy:” that is, he had sweet-smelling breath and spoke sweet-sounding words. Treacle and lychee nuts are both sweet-tasting; so, coincidentally or not, is (.9) ouzo. See entry for .12, entry for 477.30. 474.11: “semiswoon:” what would be called a hypnagogic state, also called “twilight sleep,” commonly experienced on falling asleep or waking; also, induced by opium. See 475.9-10, 476.20-2 and notes. 474.12: “honeyful swoothead:” honey, sweetheart. Also, even his sweat smells sweet, like honey. (According to some reports, this was literally true of H.G. Wells.) 474.14: “bluntblank pin:” Mont Blanc pen 474.15: “love:” more romantic gush: “love” in the (English) idiomatic sense of a lovable person 474.16-7: “the buzzer brings the light brigade, keeping the home fires burning:” 1. ringing for a servant to tend to the fire. 2. “Keep the Home Fires Burning” was a popular WW I song, supporting British (and later, American) soldiers in the conflict, as “The Charge of the Light Brigade” had celebrated British participation in the Crimean War. (Perhaps pertinent that Joyce, who sat out WW I in Switzerland, considered the Crimean War, and Tennyson’s cheerleading on its behalf, to have been criminally stupid.) Its most popular recording was by John McCormack. Irish men, exempted from conscription, were the recipients of a widespread campaign urging them to sign up anyway. McCormack’s recording, mainly directed at America’s entry in 1917, would also have been pertinent to Ireland. Compare note to .17-8. 474.16: "buzzer:" a telegraphic instument used in WW I 474.17: “churring call:” a “churr” (also “chirr”) is the sound made by some birds. 474.17-8: “came at him, from the westborders of the eastmidlands:” Compare the opening lines of “Keep the Home Fires Burning: “They were summoned from the hillside, / They were called in from the glen.” 474.19: “crowner:” Ulster, because of its loyalty to the crown 474.19: “cardinal parts:” the four cardinal points of the compass. Also, your annotator suggests that, among (many) other things, III.3 enacts a conclave of cardinals, burying the former pope and selecting his successor. See 475.24-5, 475.30, 497.7-8, 497.10, 499.14-5, and 504.19, with notes. 474.21: “first quaint skreek of the gloaming:” incipient dawn: first light. (A likely time for (see note to .17) bird calls.) “Quaint:” faint. Daylight will be arriving in III.4, and IV will be in the full light of dawn. 474.22-4: “up the mountainy molehill, traversing climes of old times gone by:” either/both 1. layers of sedimentary deposits, recording different geologic eras (and their respective “climes”) as one climbs from one level to another, 2. or the same essential thing, only in layers of turf. (See 475.24 and note.) Also, their climbing follows the paths of previous climbers. 475.1: “sweat of night:” night sweat 475.1-2: “Feefee! phopho!! foorchtha!!! aggala!!!! jeeshee!!!!! paloola!!!!!! ooridiminy!!!!!!!:” as McHugh notes, words for fear: a night-sweat nightmare has included “Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum” man-eating giant 475.3-4: “crossroads puzzlers:” suicides and other nondesirables were buried at crossroads. 475.3-4: “crossroads…nonplussing:” a plus sign is a (+) cross sign. The four inquisitors occupy the four extremities of his “length by breadth” (.4). 475.4-5: “length by breadth nonplussing his thickness, ells upon ells of him, making so many square yards:” that is, right now Yawn being measured in two dimensions, not three: “nonplussing” means something like “not including.” This will have changed by 476.32, when he is in “his cubical crib,” perhaps because in the interim they have begun to examine him in, so to speak, depth: see, e.g., .24 and note. 475.7-17: “There…belt:” glimmering, wavering reflections in water mix with descriptions of sunken Yawn. See .19-20 and note. 475.9: “one foule stretch:” one fell swoop. As McHugh notes, foule is French for crowd – Yawn will turn out to contain multitudes. 475.9-10: “the flowers of narcosis fourfettering his footlights:” poppies at his feet, numbing them and making them useless for walking. See 476.20-2 and note. 475.11: “epicures waltzing with gardenfillers:” based on Google Books occurrences, garden-fillers are plants or flowers which can be reliably expected to fill in all of any space where their seeds are sown. Here, paired with “epicures” - other, pickier growths, requiring more careful cultivation: see next entry. 475.11-2: “puritan shoots:” parting shots; also “shoots” of plants 475.12: “Phopho!:” perhaps Venus as Phosphor, harbinger of the dawn 475.12-6: “Phopho!!...Aggala!!!!...Paloola!!!!!!...Ooridiminy!!!!!!!:” as Yawn’s anatomy: head, guts, circulatory system, and nervous system, respectively. The head is a “rainbowl” (107.12), the entrails are centered at the “bellyvoid,” the blood flows through “veins,” and the nerves are (“electrolatiginous”) electric. There is a certain amount of interchange between the systems. Note that the four words, with the same number of exclamation marks intact, are a selection from the seven words of .1-2. Four is this chapter’s number. 475.12-7: “Phopho!!...belt:” as McHugh notes, the fixtures listed here are celestial. (E. L. Epstein observes that the “electrolatiginous twisted entrails belt” (.16-7) is the Milky Way.) As proposed in the note below to .19-20, I think that, looking down into the stream, they are seeing a (distorted) reflection of the night sky above their heads. That is why it is a “starchamber quiry” (.18-9). 475.13: “seamless rainbowpeel:” Jesus wore a seamless garment, here perhaps combined with Joseph’s coat of many colors. 475.14: “neverstop navel:” compare “Oxen of the Sun:” a “successive anastomosis of navelcords.” 475.15: “creamtocustard cometshair:” Latin coma, hair; comets are so named because their tails flair out like windborne hair. Again (see 475.7), his hair is unbound and whitish-to-yellowish. 475.18: “claymen:” includes French clé, key, pronounced “clay;” compare 478.21. (Digression: probably figures as well in the title of “Clay,” in Dubliners.) 475.19: “quiry:” “quire:” OED: “A set of four sheets of parchment or paper folded in two so as to form eight leaves.” (Occurs in this sense in “Ithaca.”) One of many variations on the four-ness (or, with their legs, eight-ness) of the inquisitors 475.19-20: “For he was ever their quarrel, the way they would see themselves:” because they are looking down into the water and the water surface, seeing reflections of themselves and the night sky above them, mixing with the sight of the submerged Yawn. To repeat my comment on 426.22-24: this, I think, owes a lot to a passage in chapter four of Wordsworth’s The Prelude, especially these lines, in which the poet compares his introspectively autobiographical self to someone looking down from the side of a boat, who …often is perplexed, and cannot part The shadow from the substance, rocks and sky, Mountains and clouds, reflected in the depth Of the clear flood, from things which there abide In their true dwelling; now is crossed by gleam Of his own image, by a sunbeam now, And wavering motions sent he knows not whence… 475.20-1: “everybug his bodiment atop of annywom her notion:” “Bog” is Gaelic for penis, here paired with the “wom”b of “wom”an. Perhaps adumbrates an incubus, embodying her dreaming notion of sex 475.22-3: “Mallinger parish…the son’s rest:” Mullingar Parish is to the west of Dublin/Chapelizod – that is, in the direction of the setting sun. The “knoll Asnoch” (476.5), Uisneach, ten miles southwest of the town of Mullingar, is traditionally the center of Ireland. Venerable sun/son pun is probably in play as well: Shaun/Yawn is HCE’s son, at rest. 475.24: “deep timefield:” deep time: phrase coined in the 18th century for geologic time, measured in millions/billions of years 475.27-8: “his Recordership, Dr. Shunadure Tarpey:” a Recorder, like Sir Frederick Falconer in Ulysses, is or was, in the words of Gifford and Seidman’s Ulysses Annotated, “the chief judicial officer of Dublin.” Luke Tarpey is from Dublin. As “Shunadure,” he is also one of the senescent “senators four” (474.21). 475.28: “caperchasing after honourable sleep:” as McHugh notes, goats (Latin caprae) and sheep – separating the sheep from the goats. Also, perhaps, counting sheep, to get to sleep; Google Books comes up with about a dozen instances of the phrase “honourable sleep”/”honorable sleep” in Joyce’s time, meaning something like “the sleep of the just.” 475.34: “by four lengths:” language of horse race. For instance, one horse leads another by four lengths - except that in this case the ass, always the last to show up, is lagging behind by that distance. Yet another (there will be many others) four 475.35: “like the kapr in the kabisses:” as McHugh notes, a goat among the cabbages. Proverbially, not a good thing: the goat will definitely eat them. A popular puzzle of the time adds a wolf to the mix and requires a rower to get all three across a stream safely: left to themselves, the wolf would automatically eat the goat, the goat the cabbages. 475.36-476.1: “the bugle dianablowing.” Diana’s horn: as a huntress, Diana is sometimes represented with a hunting horn. The phrase can also refer to the moon in crescent. 476.1-2: “the mockingbird whose word is misfortune:” mockingbirds imitate birdsongs of other birds – here of the cuckoo, signaling cuckoldry: “Cuckoo! Cuckoo! O word of fear to husband’s ear!” (Partially quoted in “Scylla and Charbydis”) 476.2: “down the wind:” these sounds (see previous note) are heard downwind. 476.3-4: “The proto was traipsing…Mathew Walker:” “traipsing” as a languid kind of walking, hence Matthew as “Walker.” As prefix, “proto” means first or forward, and, in order and authority, Matthew usually leads the four. “Proto” may also echo Protestant – Matthew is from Ulster. (In FW as elsewhere, the name can be spelled with either one or two t’s, although usually the latter.) 476.3-4: “Mathew Walker, godson’s goddestfar:” this and some of the rest of the paragraph (and other passages to follow) pretty clearly invites comparisons with the magi worshipping the baby Jesus, the newborn God’s son. Christiani’s translation of “goddestfar” include Godfather - not that far from describing the theological role taken by the magi in relation to Jesus. (All in all, the Shaun/Yawn sequence of III.3 may be the most overdetermined of FW; any reader trying to fix Yawn within one single frame of reference will be up against it. By what mathematical legerdemain, for instance, do the four gospellers become the three magi?) 476.5: “perch:” unit of measurement, but also, in context, probably fish 476.6: “Asnoch:” as McHugh notes at 474.20, Uisneach is supposed to be the geographical center of Ireland. 476.6-7: “how and ever:” echoes Irish expression “howsomever” (compare 624.35), meaning, approximately, however 476.7: “he proxtended:” because, at the moment, “deputising” (.4), he’s acting on behalf of, as “prox”y for, all four 476.10: “they set:” as a verb, “set” can be either present or past tense, and here it serves as pivot to a rare present-tense sequence: “they…nod, bend, bow, and curtsey” (.10-11); at .14 (“they made”) things will be back to past tense. 476.12-3: “travelling court on its findings circuiting:” travelling courts were “circuit” courts. Also, “court” as in “court cards” (appears in “Lotus Eaters”) – king, queen, jack. For Tarot cards, there are four: king, queen, knight, page. Compare “odd trick of the pack” at .17. 476.11-2: “their broadawake prober’s hats:” as McHugh notes, a “wideawake hat” has an exceptionally broad brim. So did the “Boer’s hat,” which at one time could have signalled hostility toward England during the Boer War. In “Circe,” when Stephen is accused of being a “proBoer” by a drunken English soldier, it is probably because of his broad-brimmed hat. 476.14: “stenoggers:” elided “graph” is probably imitative: stenographers write either in shorthand or with contracted versions of the original words. 476.14-5: “psychomorers:” sycamores – always or almost always go with FW’s four old men 476.17: “the odd trick of the pack, trump:” the joker. In euchre, it counts as the highest trump. 476.20-2: “amengst the poppies and, I can tell you something more than that, drear writer, profoundly as you may bedeave to it, he was oscasleep asleep:” Matthew as Mesmer has put him to sleep – hence the bed of poppies. Starting at 496.2, Oscar (“oscasleep”) Wilde will emerge as one the main presences buried within Yawn. 476.23: “unctuous:” as in Extreme Unction, applied to the dying. (At first, the four wonder whether Yawn is dead.) 476.24-5: “coaching his preferred constellations in faith and doctrine:” “constellations:” also congregations. (A constellation is a selective congregation of stars; see next entry.) The pope is the supreme authority on matters of faith and doctrine; see .30 and note. 476.25-8: “Matt…Hossaleen:” three of the four gospellers here seem matched with their usual symbols: Matthew, as angel, in his “starmenagerie,” Mark as (“Lyons”) lion, Luke as (“Metcalfe”) calf, of an ox. But (“mack…Jonny”) Johnny MacDougal? There ought to be an eagle in there somewhere, but your annotator can’t find it. Instead, as “Jonny na Hossaleen” (see McHugh), John is apparently fused with the ass that often accompanies him. Again, these are the “usual” symbols. In other versions, Matthew can be the lion, Luke a manservant, etc. The apostle John is the non-Synoptic one of the four, and John/Johnny typically lags behind the other three. 476.25-6: “starmenagerie:” because of all the animals it includes, the Zodiac (along with other constellations) could fairly be called a star-menagerie. The perspective is of water reflecting the night sky, with its constellations. 476.30: “fuming censor:” another address to the reader, like “drear writer” (.21), dear dreary reader/writer: as readers we both accept and reject (censor) what we encounter on the written page; in the latter case, we may, like some readers of Joyce, be indignant – fuming – at what we choose or pretend not to recognize, not to mention all the stuff we really just don’t get. Also, as “censer,” another allusion to church services and practice – Confirmation at .24-5, Last Rites at .23. (Here, I would also suggest adding the burial of one pope and installation of another.) Also, allusion to Keats’ “fume of poppies” in “Ode to Autumn” (compare .20) – the thurifer’s censer is burning opium along with, or in place of, incense. Also, opiate of the masses 476.31-5: “cooched…curchycurchy:” coochy-coochy, curchy-curchy: adult imitation baby-talk, to go with the “tops or kites or hoops or marbles,” children’s games to play with the “wee bairn” (477.3) the four old men are dotingly “gawking on.” This approach will soon change. 476.32: “question time:” in the House of Commons 476.33: “the map of the souls’ groupography rose in relief:” a relief map (compare 595.3-4 and note) is three-dimensional, either using shadings to indicate relative heights and depths, or with the surface augmented and dented in an approximation of the ground’s contour. “Groupography” incorporates “geography” and “group” – the latter because the translucent water also reflects the four, looking down, and seeing themselves and Jaun at the same time activates adjustment to a stereoscopic perspective. Thus (see 475.4-5 and note), Shaun has now gone from square to cube, from two-dimensional to three-dimensional. 476.34: “quarterings:” four divisions on a heraldic field 476.34: “tops:” spinning tops 476.36: “softnoising:” e.g., “Hush!” 477.1-2: “And it is what they began to say to him tetrahedrally then, the masters, what way was he:” heavily Irished English, approaching parody. Brendan O Hehir revises as: “And what they began to say to him was…how was he.” 477.1: “tetrahedrally:” a “tetramorph” is a representation of the four evangelists as figures in four quarters of a picture in one frame: compare the four as “quartermasters” (.13). The Book of Kells includes a highly stylized example. A tetrahedron is pyramid-shaped. 477.4: "Yerra:" 399.9 has established this as a Munster word. 477.4: “my leader:” given that Matthew has just stretched out his hand to exert hypnotic influence over Yawn (and the others), I think it pertinent that the German equivalent would be “mein führer.” 477.10: “outathat:” “out of that:” Irish expression for wish that someone would move or leave – here, as the four separate to spread out a net between them 477.14-7: “kid…Chirpy…hospices…chap:” as for 476.25-8, some but not all the items here seem to match the Evangelical symbols. “Chirpy” would be John the eagle; “chap,” as man, Mark. With some stretching, “kid” might pass as the goat equivalent of the Luke who at 476.26 was apparently the (usually ox) “-calf-.” But “hospices?” Your annotator cannot make it into a lion or cub or anything like. 477.18: “in the back of their mind’s ear:” instead of “mind’s eye:” recognizing and incorporating echoes and overtones, however faint. A faculty useful when reading FW in general, and nowhere moreso than in this chapter, with its overplus of what I am calling “responses” (see .32 and note) to the garbled or misheard words of others 477.20: “fine…nansen nets:” nainsook is finespun cotton, or clothes made from the material; in “Nausicaa” Gerty has “nainsook knickers.” “Fine” or not, probably not the right stuff for fishing nets 477.20: “nets:” crisscrossing light-lines from sky reflected on surface, as in a David Hockney swimming pool; compare “meshing” (.23). From Joyce’s poem “Alone:” The moon’s greygolden meshes make / All night a veil.” 477.21: “thurrible mystagogue:” On FW’s last page ALP will cry out, “Save me from those therrble prongs!” – probably, I suggest, because thuribles are or were standard features of a funeral mass. III.3 is a wake as well as a birth. Not clear to me why Mark would be the “mystagogue:” John is usually considered to be the most mystical of the four. 477.22: “his crucifer’s cauda:” the crucifer (here, Johnny) carries the cross in a church procession – usually leading, but sometimes the last in line. Along with the three magi with their gifts (see McHugh), Johnny with the cross rounds out the pack of four. His “cauda” (again, see McHugh) is his donkey, with the cross on its back. 477.23: “backslibris:” another address to the reader, inflected by “ex libris” 477.23: “slipping beauty:” another address to the reader, who is nodding off 477.23-6: “meshing that way, when he rose to it, with the planckton at play about him, the quivers of scaly silver and their clutches of chromes of the highly lucid spanishing gold:” compare “Proteus:” ”Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fat of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly…Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his green grave, his leprous nosehole snoring to the sun.” 477.24: “meshing:” again, as in .20: seen through the crisscrossing light reflections on the surface. Same for “mazing” (.27) 477.24: “when he rose to it:” as in “rose to the bait:” Yaun will wind up (525.19-32) as a fish (or eel) being hooked. 477.25-6: “planckton at play about him, the quivers of scaly silver and their clutches of chromes of the highly lucid spanishing gold:” reflection of starlight on water surface. (Oxford editors* change “quivers” to “quavers,” which would emphasize the waviness of the overall effect.) Also, “Spanish gold,” from conquistador days, was synonymous with gold at its finest, and – always, among other things - the four are (see McHugh) treasure-seeking divers, hoping to salvage silver and gold from a submerged Spanish galleon. “Clutches” as in clutch bag. Silver is “scaly” because reflected off the silvery scales of fish. “Spanishing” echoes vanishing: everything in this sequence is a matter of Now you see (or hear) it, now you don’t – again, of quivering/quavering/wavering/wavy sensations. *Incidental note: According to the Oxford editors’ tally of “Selected Variants,” III.3 has, of all FW’s chapters, both the highest number and the highest percentage of what might be called either textual errors or, simply, passages in dispute. Certainly, in my own run-through, it has occasioned, by far, more suggested textual changes, as signaled by standard phrases such “Oxford editors suggest” or “Oxford editors insert,” than any of the others, for instance more than twice as many as for of II.3, a chapter almost as long. It is also the least cohesive chapter of FW. III.3 begins as a recognizable extension of its predecessor, III.2, and moves on to a frantic cacophony of sometimes barely distinguishable voices, from out of which, like Alexander hacking apart the Gordian knot, HCE emerges with FW’s longest and most emphatic monologue. These are three different things, loosely conjoined. According to Jean-Michel Rabaté (“The Fourfold Root of Yawn’s Unreason: Chapter III.3,” Luca Crispi and Sam Slote, Editors, How Joyce Wrote Finnegans Wake: A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Guide (Madison, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 2008), 384-409), this disjunctiveness may have to do with the circumstances of its composition. Whether it also accords with the author’s overall plan for the book, whether it constitutes the pivotal point, corresponding to Act IV in one of Shakespeare’s plays, where things break down for good, chaos reigns for a spell, and a new order begins to build, is probably an unanswerable question, but be it noted that up until 532.6, when HCE’s monologue takes over, one of its major subjects is how hard it is to get matters settled once and for all, how difficult-to-impossible it can be to understand anything or, especially, anybody. On this subject, please see my note to .32, below. In a number of ways, things not adding up is a large part of what III.3 is about. 477.28: “thripthongue:” Hamlet: “speak it trippingly on the tongue.” 477.28: “his blurbeous lips:” being underwater, he is burbling. 477.29: “moor:” as McHugh notes, the song to follow (.33) is by Thomas Moore. In fact, it is from the collection commonly called “Moore’s Melodies,” as echoed in “melding mellifond” (.30). 477.30: “melding mellifond indo his mouth:” expression: “Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth” – used of a sweet-talker. “Melding mellifond” twice includes Latin mel, honey. 477.31: “Y?:” first, the beginning of “Yawn.” Second, as McHugh notes, pronounced as hard Y, “Why?” – why are you here, asking me these questions? Third, pronounced as soft Y, a call for Issy/Iseult. Yawn is, among other things, Tristan, calling out for his Iseult, a.k.a. “Ysold” (113.19); his quest, beginning here, will reach a crescendo on page 500. (As McHugh notes, Swift’s Stella is another prominent object of desire.) 477.32: “Before You!:” “Y” comes before “U” in “you.” Perhaps also a reversal of the polite “after you:” T.S. Eliot remarked that he’d never succeeded in getting through a door after Joyce. This is probably the first example of a major feature of III.3: language being misheard and misinterpreted in exchanges of dialogue. (Compare, for instance, the “Throwaway” story of Ulysses.) For the rest of the exchanges between Yawn and his interrogators, I will be noting some but by no means all of these miscommunications, designating them as underlined “response”s – that is, instances where Yawn has answered according to his misunderstanding of a word or phrase in a question addressed to him or spoken in his presence. (Influence or not, to my knowledge the closest approximation outside of Joyce is Love’s Labour’s Lost.) Although such misprisions are a recurring feature of FW as a whole, for instance in the trial scenes of I.3 and I.4, III.3 definitely has the highest concentration for the most extended stretch – essentially, from 447.31 to 532.5. 477.33: “Ecko!:” Ecce Homo: portrait of Jesus by Elijah Garcia Martinez. Joyce wrote an essay on it. Pilate’s words, referring to the scourged Christ. A frequent subject in religious art. Compare 480.14-5. Also, identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022) as a bakelite "Ekco" radio model of the 1930's. The sense that the listeners are tuning in ("Now, to come nearer zone" (478.6) would seem to confirm. 477.34: “lions’ odor?:” perhaps law and order. American spelling of “odor”/”odour” is notable. 477.35: “Friends!:” that is, Relax! We are friends, not enemies 477.35: “yu:” McHugh notes that this is an “Ulster pronunciation of “you.” (Also, “yur” for “your.”) Throughout III.3, it seems to be a signature for Matthew, whose questions are typically the harshest and most percussive. (Compare the opening of “Counterparts:” [Mr Alleyne’s] furious voice called out in a piercing north of Ireland accent” - as it happens, Alleyne’s relatively small share of the story’s dialogue contains over half its “you”s and “your”s – and the “sharp Ulster voice” that offends Stephen in Portrait, chapter five.) With one exception (623.9), all FW’s “yu”s and “yur”s occur in the dialogue passages of III.3. (In some cases, the same speaker will use “yu”/”yur” and “you”/”your.”) Identifying the speakers by their accents is tricky – sometimes fairly easy, often not. Matthew is usually bossy. Luke, from the region of the Blarney Stone, can be exceptionally talkative in a sloothery way. (John Kelleher, deeply informed on these matters, once told me that Corkonians from Munster had a reputation for being “cute.”) Coming from the west, John is provincial and the most stage-Irish of the four. For me, Luke, from Dublin, is the most difficult to pin down. Presumably, as the urban opposite to John’s Connacht, he should be the cosmopolitan one, and perhaps that would help account for his accent’s being the least identifiably regional. In any case, a native speaker, not your annotator, would obviously be the best guide on these matters. The truly excellent FW reading recorded by Barry McGovern, with Marcella Riordan as ALP, available through Amazon and Audible Books (this is an unsolicited endorsement), succeeds in making the four oldsters distinguishable by their accents. 477.36: “orangery:” Yawn is the speaker, answering Matthew’s request to identify his “historical grouns,” grounds. Compare the “fragments of orangepeel, the last remains of an outdoor meal” (110.29-30) found in an “orangeflavoured mudmound” (111.34) – the site of FW’s many excavations, including this one. It is, among of course other things, the remnants of a picnic, which included oranges. In FW’s last pages, ALP recalls/reenacts a picnic trip to Howth, favorite picnic locations for John Stanislaus Joyce and family - as well, of course, for the Blooms. 478.1: “orangery:” origin, the historical grounds called for – but also one of the few responses where the speaker is, apparently, heard correctly. (McHugh has the speaker here as Mark; your annotator inclines toward Matthew, an Orangeman from Ulster.) 478.3: “Throsends:” taking “letters” (.2) in the epistolary sense, he recalls the thousands (probably an exaggeration) of letters exchanged between himself and “Y.” Also, Oxford editors change to “Thorsends.” I can find no sign of Thor or thunder in the vicinity, but two lines later, while magnifying the thousands into “Millions,” Yawn will (apparently) be referring to the same letters as “godsends” (.5), and at 269.17 we were informed that “Every letter is a godsend,” the gods in question including Zeus, Thor’s thundering counterpart. 478.5: “For godsends:” Godsends, of course, and also For God’s sake! - but also compare “godsons’” (476.3-4). 478.6: “zone:” a radio station’s broadcasting area; as such the term was in use among amateur radio operators. 478.7: “this maggers:” in some versions, the letter begins with a variant of either “Majesty” or “Dear Majesty.” Oxford editors italicize “maggers.” 478.8-16: “I am told…hopenhaven:” compare Richard Chevinix Trench, On the Study of Words, p. 29: “Thus I have read of a tribe in New Holland, which has no word to signify God, but has a word to designate a process by which an unborn child is destroyed in the bosom of the mother.” Reflects a period of linguistic study when a given group’s range of vocabulary was held to be a map of its priorities. The Eskimos, supposedly with fourteen different words for “snow,” was the standard example. For both Trench and the FW inquisitor, the main significance is moral. In the case of the latter, the tribe in question has plenty of words for “monarch” but nothing corresponding to “majesty.” This absence is taken as a sign of historic and moral underdevelopment. Compare .10-11 and note, and see 123.1-2 and note: “Majesty,” in the Latin of the Roman Empire, could convey godliness as well as authority. 478.9-10: “six hundred and six…malherbal Magis…wand:” language of black magic. “606” is an alternate version of “666.” 478.9: “ragwords:” compare ALP on the subject of her letter: “Rags!” (619.19) – as in, rag paper. 478.10: “wald man rimes alpman:” wild man goes with (“alp-“) mountain man. Mountain dwellers, highlanders for instance, are proverbially untamable. 478.10: “rimes…resin:” expression: without rhyme or reason 478.10-11: “there is resin in all roots for monarch:” a justification of – reason for - hereditary monarchy 478.10-1: “resin in all roots:” resin comes from trees. It is also the main ingredient of (“torpentine” (.13)) turpentine. 478.13: “nor no rheda rhoda or torpentine path:” in addition to (McHugh) Rome’s Rhaetian Road, probably also royal road, contrasted with (Latin torquēre, to twist) twisted or twisty path. Again (compare .8-16 and note) this is an anthropologist’s tut-tutting about the backward aborigines under study: unlike Rome, famous for its roads, you guys don’t even have decent ruts. 478.19: “How? C’est mal prononsable, tartagliano, perfrances. Vous n’avez d’o dans votre boche provenciale, mousoo:” response: misled by “Frankly” (.13) and perhaps also mishearing “messio” (.13) as “Monsieur” or “Messieurs,” Yawn has taken the speaker’s Latin (.13-4) as the words of someone trying, stutteringly, to speak French, and doing it badly, presumably because the speaker’s provincial idiom has left him with an unacceptably pronounced French “o.” (The questioner’s last word, “intelligow,” ended with an “o” sound.) Still, he replies in French that is at least equally fractured (.19-22). For the second sentence, Oxford editors have “Vous n’avez d’O dong votre bousch provenciale, monsoo” – making the French even worse. As becomes clear at .26, Yawn during this sequence is, or is channeling, Saint Patrick, who grew up on the western fringes of the Roman Empire as it was collapsing, and whose peregrinations, voluntary and otherwise, made him familiar with Latin, French, Gaelic, and early English, although not necessarily fluent in any: the exchange here indicates maladroitness in two languages at once. Patrick’s autobiographical Confessio is written in what is generally taken to be amateurish Latin, and his comparison of the shamrock to the Trinity was of, of course, non-verbal. On his FW showing, he was better off keeping things that way. 478.19: “tartagliano:” response to interrogator’s “tartallaght” (.12) 478.21: “Moy jay trouvay la clee dang les champs:” more sub-par French (here, the Irish equivalent of Franglais), this time, again, as Saint Patrick, who (versions vary) spent time in France before going to Ireland and finding the shamrock Trinity in the (“champs”) field. See next entry. N.B.: Oxford editors change “champs” to “chants.” This makes sense in its own terms – they have been discussing problems of understanding arising from translation and pronunciation, for instance speaking words as opposed to chanting them, and chanting, being musical, has a (“clee”) key – but given the context, an overtone of “champs” would seem to remain in play. After all, Patrick really did find the key to his faith in the field. 478.22: “poddy:” Paddy, an affectionate name for Saint Patrick, a (usually) not-affectionate term for an Irishman 478.24: “jambs…messiah:” responses to “champs”/”chants” (see note to .21) and “mousoo” (.21, .20) 478.25: “cloover…trefling:” Patrick’s shamrock (see .21 and note) is clover, and a trefoil. Again, he found it in the field and adopted it as the symbol of his faith, which was clever of him. 478.25: “A true’s to:” a truce to – i.e., enough of that. Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun” 478.26: “Trinathan partnick dieudonnay:” not exactly, as I’m using the term, a response, but definitely cued by talk of the shamrock’s Trinity. As McHugh notes, the three main components are Swift, Patrick, and Tristan, three Irishmen mashed together and redistributed, trinitarily. 478.27: “Typette, my tactile O!:” with “tactile O” read as (McHugh) “dactylo,” this reads as a double (“tactile”) dactyl. 478.30: “sohohold!:” a stammered “so old.” Oxford editors replace with “sohohohold.” 478.32: “What are yu shevering about,…like a houn:” for “houn,” McHugh has “hound;” Helmut Bonheim has German Huhn, chicken. Your annotator sides with the latter – to wit, Biddy, the “original hen,” the “iceclad shiverer” who first found the letter (110.22-4). See 479.33 and note. 478.32: “doraphobian:” McHugh translates as someone with “dread of touching;” Brendan O Hehir as someone with “fear of gifts.” Again, I side more with the latter. As magi, the questioners are bringers of gifts. 478.32-3: “Or do yu want yur primafairy schoolmam?:” sarcastic: does the big baby want his mama? “Primafairy:” pinafore, a garment worn by children. “Schoolmam:” schoolmarm. Again, the “yu” is a Matthew word. 478.36: “I know that place better than anyone:” the cue here is “padredges” (.34), which Johnny mishears as “partridges,” a game bird like “greyleg,” “duck,” and “plover” (.35-6), therefore for hunting. Coming from the west, Johnny is the outdoorsy one of the four. Foclut (“fogloot” (.34)) is in Connacht. 479.1: “the fourth day:” depending on whether you count from Sunday, Monday, or Good Friday, either Wednesday, Thursday, or Monday 479.3: “they:” the hunting dogs 479.4-5: “Tortoiseshell for a guineagould:” again, compare “Oxen of the Sun” term for extreme odds: “Guinea to a goosegog.” Probably pertinent that, as Stephen recalls in “Nestor,” shells have sometimes been used for money. Also, “Guinea Gold” was a popular brand of cigarette; compare 179.34, 325.26. 479.5: “Burb! Burb! Burb!:” the sound of the hunting dogs. Compare the harriers of “Circe:” “Bulbul! Burblblburblbl!” See next entry. 479.6: “Tucurlugh:” “cur” echoes the hunting dogs; “Lugh” is the Gaelic god of light. 479.9: “zoedone of the zephyros:” ozone, blown in by the zephyrs, winds. Compare Simon Dedalus in Portrait, chapter one: “We got a good breath of ozone round the Head today.” 479.10: “thass withumpronouceable tail:” Oxford editors have “withunpronounceable.” A long shot, here. The expression “Irish is tied to a donkey’s tail” was used to justify not teaching Gaelic to children, the point being that it would be a ticket to rural poverty; the link may be that for native English speakers, Gaelic is indeed (for instance, “Dun Laughaire”) often unpronounceable. 479.12: “the Anchor on the Mountain:” probably the name of a pub. Popular pub names in the British Isles include “Anchor and Crown,” “Anchor and Horseshoes,” etc. 479.13: “Pat:” response to “padredges” (478.34) 479.14: “Dood and I dood:” response to “Polldoody” (.6). “I dood” for “I did:” in America of the time, would signify a bumpkin. 479.14-5: “Whydoyoucallme?:” whatchamaycallit. Response to “Whateveryournameis?” (.13) 479.15: “flingamejig:” thingamajig. Goes, obviously, with (see previous entry) whatchamaycallit. 479.15: “twolves:” either two or twelve wolves 479.16: “Turcafiera:” probably a response to “Tucurlugh” (.6). If so, an instance (there are others) of one of the questioners answering one of the other questioners as if the latter were Yawn – a case of either real or surmised ventriloquy. Compare 480.25: “You took the words out of my mouth.” 479.18: “bleather:” breather, blather 479.19: “turnstone:” turnpike milestone 479.20: “you invocate austers for the trailing of vixens:” you advocate oysters for fox-hunting. Probably nonsense on its own terms, this is a misprision - a response - of Yawn’s excited talk about “austers” (.6) while reminiscing about hunting (478.35-479.6). Although Yawn’s memory was, at least initially, of hunting game birds, his rambling on about coursing dogs “straining at the leash” and barking “Burb! Burb! Burb!” (.4-5) apparently changed the venue, at least in Mark’s hearing, to a fox hunt. Again, compare the fox hunt in “Circe:” “(…the beagle’s call, giving tongue) Bulbul! Burblburlblbl!” 479.21-2: “send a cormorant around this blue lagoon:” cormorants are impressive fishers. They hover, buckle (with thanks to G. M. Hopkins), dive, and after about thirty seconds, resurface, invariably with a fish in their beak. 479.22: “You told my larned friend rather previously, a moment since, about this mound or barrow:” at 477.36. The learned friend was Matthew. 479.25-6: “burialbattell, the boat:” At Gokstad and Oseberg, Viking boats had been discovered buried in barrows. 479.26: “millions:” recalls 478.5. 479.29-33: “that fourmaster barquentine, Webster says, our ship that ne’re returned. The Frenchman, I say, was an orangeboat. He is a boat. You see him. The both how you see is they. Draken af Danemork! Sacked it or ate it? What! Hennu! Spake ab laut!:” the interview becomes an elementary language lesson, beginning with (McHugh) Webster’s Dictionary definition of an unusual word, “barquentine.” Oxford editors replace “What!” with “What?” Mark is commenting on Yawn’s “This same prehistoric barrow ‘tis, the orangery” (477.36) – probably, I suggest, sarcastically mimicking his words as well. 479.32: “Draken af Danemork!:” spelling here may be implying, not unreasonably, that Queen Elizabeth’s favorite pirate, Sir Francis Drake, was the English equivalent of the Viking marauders. Drake’s place in Irish history is not a happy one; he is remembered mainly for his 1575 massacre of the Irish, soldiers and civilians, on Rathlin Island. (Still, there is, or was, a monument to him in County Cork.) See See 480.1, “Her raven flag was out,” and McHugh annotation. 479.33: “Hennu!:” again, Yawn addressed as a hen – recalling Biddy, the original letter-unearther. 479.33: “Spake ab laut:” Speak up loud! Perhaps also “ablative” of the language lesson; also, as McHugh notes, German Ablaut, “vowel gradation” 479.34: “Couch, cortege, ringbarrow, dungcairn:” see McHugh. In succession, four stages of dying: sickbed, then funeral, then burial, then earth-to-earth (or dung) 479.34-480.5: “Couch…Folchu!:” Mark has loosened Yawn’s collar and ordered him to speak up. This declamatory response, with its seven exclamation marks, shows that he’s doing as told. 479.34: “Beseek ye the runes:” whether or not it panned out, looking for – seeking out - runes in a Viking barrow would make sense. Also, overtone of ruins: looking through the ruins is a lot of what FW is about. 479.35-6: “Allmaun away when you hear the ganghorn:” that is, All ashore that’s going ashore. Probable overtone of “Anchors aweigh” 479.36: “Nautsen. Ess Ess unearthed. O ess.:” see McHugh. Whether or not Nansen ever sent out an S.O.S., there were times when it certainly would have made sense. Also, the Viking boat’s (.32) dragon (serpentine) figurehead, hissing – perhaps Ireland’s exiled snakes, returning. Nansen was Norwegian, a descendent of Vikings. 480.1: “two lay payees:” French: tous les payees, all the countries 480.1: “Her raven flag was out:” in some versions of the story, one of Tristan’s two Iseults, jealous of the other, falsely tells him that the ship coming to save him has a black sail, signaling the death of the other Iseult. He gives up and dies. 480.1-2: “I trow pon good, jordan’s scaper, good’s barnet, and trustyman:” McHugh has the elements here, but just to sum up: this is a compressed, Anglo-Saxonily translated version of the Apostle’s Creed: “I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit…” “Good’s barnet,” God bairn, is Jesus; “trustyman” (along with overtone of “Tristan”) is presumably the Holy Spirit, as, something like a trustee, the one of the three still around on earth, still delegating heavenly assets. 480.4: “Wolf of the sea:” compare 202.24: “a dynast of Leinster, a wolf of the sea,” and 325.21, “marelupe.” At least at 202.24, refers to Dermot MacMurrough, but it would have been a fair epithet for the other marauding mariners recalled so far, including the Vikings and Drake. 480.4-5: “Folchu! Folchu!:” another response to (“fogloot” (474.34)) Foclut, and see next entry. 480.6: “folklore’s:” response to “Folchu!” 480.7: “parent ship:” a ship which protects or serves as home base for other ships; today might be called “mother ship” 480.9: “bonofide for keeltappers:” bonafides were/are seriously dedicated drinkers; heeltaps are the least drinkable residue from the bottom of the bottle. As at 381-2, based on the first page of Joyce’s first FW draft, these guys are ready to drink up anything left. 480.10: “levantine ponenter:” McHugh annotates this as eastern and western winds respectively – that is, coming from the east and west. The former would have helped (“from Daneland sailed” (.10)) a Danish marauder sailing to Ireland; the latter would have helped him to sail back. 480.12: “korsets:” cursed. Also, response to “crusade” (.7). 480.12: “Magnus Spadebeard:” to some degree, derived from the previous exchange. Glasheen cites the disputed “Magis” and “Magis” of 478.9 and 478.17, and notes that “Magonus” was the name given to St. Patrick when he was studying for the priesthood in France. (Whether Patrick’s beard counts as a “spade beard” is debatable.) Again, a re-sorting of the Patrick and France strands. Yawn seems to be conflating his memory of Patrick’s arrival with the Viking invasions. Also, Magnus is of course a Roman surname. (The Romans, however, never occupied Ireland.) 480.12: “welsher perfyddye:” a take-off on “perfidious Albion” 480.13: “A destroyer in our port:” perhaps echoes Irish term for English, “Strangers in our house.” Again, fits the Vikings more than it does Patrick, unless Yawn is currently channeling some pre-Patrick Druid 480.13: “baling scoop:” after all, a sensible possession on any ocean vessel 480.14-5: “Ecce Hagios Chrisman!:” again (see 477.33 and note), reference to “Ecce Homo.” Continues the sequence of “crusade,” “korsets crosser” (.7, .12), then “Oh, Jeyses” and Futtfishy” (.16) 480.16: “Oh, Jeyses, fluid! Says the poisoned well!:” not sure, but this seems to be something along the order of “Pot calling the kettle black,” sarcastically rendered – a poisoned well complaining about poison. In any event, Johnny, the speaker, is not having any of Yawn’s professed piety. 480.16: “Jeyses…Futtfishy:” cued by “Ecce Homo Chrisman” (Jesus). Early Christians represented Jesus as a fish. Oxford editors insert an apostrophe after “Jeyses.” 480.18-9: “Dunlin and turnstone augur us where:” as McHugh notes, dunlin and turnstone are birds, as is the cormorant of .21-2. Augury is divination by observation of the flights of birds. 480.25: “pancercrucer:” probable allusion to Thomas Hardy’s poem “Panthera,” in which Panthera, the real father of Jesus, is present at the crucifixion. (A tradition derived from Origen’s Contra Celsum.) The theme returns in III.4, when one of the sons has a nightmare of his father as (“phanthares” (565.19)) phantom panther. 480.26: “dragon vicefather:” Viking, with dragon prow 480.26: “Hillcloud encompass us!:” may a fog conceal us from our pursuers! (Irish and other mythologies include stories of heroes being saved by such interventions.) Also, compare “cloud-crowned,” “cloud-topped,” for what Yeats calls a “vapour-turbaned steep.” 480.27: “you lived as milky at their lyceum:” answer to Yawn’s most recent words, about how a native laid “bare his breastpaps to give suck” (.13-4). Associative connection is probably via Romulus and Remus story; see .34-5 and note. 480.30: “dob dob:” response to “Dyb! Dyb!” (.28). Given context, the practice of bear-baiting – bears being torn apart by dogs – is probably pertinent; in the next line we learn that the “whole totem pack” is “after” him. The hunter has become the hunted. 480.30: “like old Booth’s:” compare “Eumaeus:” “lie like old boots.” 480.31: “cubs:” compare “pups” of .19. 480.31: “the whole totem pack:” not forgetting that the four inquisitors are also a pack of cards, with four suits. Four “vuk”s will follow immediately. 480.32: “Robinson’s shield:” the Robinson coat of arms features three bucks, here the prey of the barking hounds (or wolves). The family is from Ulster. 480.33: “Scents and gouspils:” because of the hunt, the exclamation “Saints and gospels!” is turned into the scents (of the prey) and (see McHugh) French for foxes. 480.33: “animal jangs:” perhaps from “jangle,” originally meaning jabber – endlessly silly talk. In this case, “jangs” is a noun, and the point is that there’s been too much silly talk having to do with animals. Reference is to Yawn’s “vuk vuk and vuk vuk” (.31-2). 480.34: “fingall:” Fine Gael: since 1933, a major Irish political party 480.34: “Here howl me wiseacre’s hat:” “Here, hold my hat:” a fairly common vernacular expression, signaling that the speaker is about to do something – often, get into a fight. Here, shows exasperation 480.34: “wiseacre’s hat:” wideawake hat, a hat with a wide brim and low crown 480.34-5: “till I die of the milkman’s lupus:” that is, for a very long time. Conjecture: an example of how anything can have to with animals if you want it to – although, as usual, there may be a method behind the mixedness: the sequence has been full of talk of animals in general and of wolves in particular, and Romulus and Remus were suckled on the milk of the she-wolf Luperca. In the earlier “you lived as milky at their lyceum, couard, while you learned, volp, volp, to howl yourself wolfwise” (.24-6) “lyceum” would promote a folk-etymological reading of “λνκέίος,” which derives from a Greek epithet for Apollo, as “λνκος,” Greek for wolf – hence, for instance “lycanthropy.” Yawn’s intense fear at this point – why he is called a “couard” (.27) - may have to do with the remembered perils of his birth and infancy: Romulus’ cruel uncle had meant to kill him and his brother. Also, “couard”/coward/cow by proximity to “milky” (.27) 481.1: “holystone!:” holystone was used on ships to, for instance, scour the decks. Also, probably, heliotrope: a weak echo, but in II.1 the heliotrope, a.k.a. bloodstone, is emphatically established as a helio/holy stone. Also, see .4. 481.2: “Courser, Recourser:” response to “fingall harriers” (480.34), before then the “coursing” hounds of the Connacht fox hunt (479.4) 481.4: “cataleptic:” compare Stephen’s “Proteus” “catalectic tetrameter of iambs marching.” Here the first line (.1) may qualify as catalectic trochaic pentameter: “Hail him / heathen, / heal him / holy /stone - !” I confess myself unequal to scanning for (McHugh) “trochaic dimeter brachycatalectic,” but given the emerging subject (the father) it may be pertinent that mithyphallic/ithyphallic chants accompanied the parading of images of erections. See next entry. 481.4: “Totem:” a totem is ithyphallic. 481.6: “Be fair, Chris!:” a pretty bloody impertinent way of addressing Jesus, particularly coming from a magus or gospeler. See .9 and note. 481.6: “ere bawds plied:” before prostitutes sold themselves 481.7: “Ona nonday I sleep:” response to “Mundi” (.6). Oxford editors have “On a” for “Ona.” It is this annotator’s belief that FW’s default date is Monday, March 21, 1938, extending to the morning of March 22, that the book’s sleeper is upstairs, in bed, throughout Monday (including (“nonday” = noonday = midday) the daylight hours), and that he awakes on the next morning, as recorded in Book IV. Also, III.3 takes place at “nonday” – night - and “sleep” is present tense: he’s still sleeping, or trying to. 481.8-9: “May…Fia! Fia!:” tradition that the name “Mafia” originated when a Sicilian mother, fearing for her daughter (“fia”), called out “Ma fia!” The story originated during the Sicilian Vespers. (See 21.18-9 and note.) 481.8: “fearfilled:” aside from (McHugh) fulfilled, filled with fear 481.9: “Befurcht christ!:” response to “Be fair, Chris!” (.6). (Also, probably an admonition: you should fear Christ, and not be so flippant about it: see first note to .6.) The “Sinflowed” (Noah’s flood, wiping out a sinful world) just cited (.9) is one good example of why. 481.10-19: “I have…Bap!:” resumes (mainly Latin) language lesson. See .16-9 and note. 481.10: “tristich:” triptych. (Also, McHugh cites definition, “three lines of verse,” which describes .1-3.) Probably for father, son, and holy ghost 481.11: “fui fui:” response to “Fia! Fia!” (.9). Also, compare “Fuitfiat” (As it was, let it be) of 613.14. Apart from the American expression “Phooey!,” “fui,” repeated, the internet informs me, is Portuguese for “I have been.” 481.12-5: “comming noun from the asphalt to the concrete, from the human historic brute, Finnsen Faynean, occeanyclived, to this same vulganized hillsir from yours, Mr “Tupling Toun of Morning de Heights:” A “hillsir” is a common noun, as opposed to the capitalized name “Finnsen Faynean.” Oxford editors replace “vulganized” with “vulcanized.” (Following through, the next line includes “lavast [or “lavas:” see first entry for .15] flow;” a “vulcanized hillsir” is presumably, among other things, an active volcano; the conceit seems to be that the city’s “asphalt” and “concrete,” temporarily fluid but now hardened into roads and civic structures, originated in a volcano’s flow of lava.) “Finnegan’s Wake” is an American song, originating in New York, with its asphalt and concrete, home of (“Morning de Heights”) Morningside Heights. Spelling of “occeanyclived” brings in Ossian, whose (supposed) writings heroicised Finn. As usual, the testimony is mined with qualifications - “brute,” for instance, or “Fenian” as “Faynean:” see second .13 note. 481.13: “Finnsen Faynean:” another permutation of “Fia! Fia!” and “fui fui.” 481.13: “Faynean:”“[Dolce] far niente:” It is sweet to do nothing. Occurs in “Lestrygonians” 481.14: “hillsir:” half-sir; a squireen, an Irishman with pretensions to gentility. Definitely a step down 481.14: Tupling Toun:” again, Tim Finnegan, who tippled and tumbled. The song goes, “Tim had a kind of a tippling way.” 481.14: “from yours:” British military expression “of ours” signifies a fellow member of one’s regiment. Here, the opposite, twice 481.15: “with his lavast flow and his rambling undergroands:” again, Oxford editors replace “lavast” with “lavas.” Given that the subject will soon emerge as “the farther…Ouer Tad” (.19-20), this reminds me of Joyce’s father, as described in John Wyse Jackson’s and Peter Costello’s John Stanislaus Joyce: a volcanic temper, a great, sometimes rambling, flow of talk, punctuated with groans and imprecations. 481.15: “rambling undergroands:” New York subway trains make rumbling noises audible to above-ground pedestrians; London subways, being much deeper underground, do not. This one arrives “Ad Horam” (.16), on time. 481.16-19: “Ad Horam, Romeo Rogers…ob…urb…differenciabus…locative:” tags from the Latin lesson. (McHugh cites “Romeo Rogers” as an allusion to Romulus and Remus, extending the ongoing raised-by-wolves thread: see 480.27, .34-5 and notes.) Oxford editors have a significantly different sequence for .17, changed from “county, and your sure ob, or by, with or from an urb” to “county by, with or from an urb, an your sure ob you know.” Still, I think, the same story: an unnecessarily confusing Latin lesson. See next entry. (“Ob urbe” would mean “from the city,” but ob can mean different things in different combinations.) 481.18: “differenciabus:” O Hehir has Latin differentiabus: for “to, for, or with, by, differences, diversities, species.” As flawed Latin for “differently” (.11) – the proper word would be aliter – part of the Latin lesson from hell. 481.19: “locative:” a Latin case. Not English, but the last four lines have included “Ad,” “in,” “ob,” “by,” “with,” “from,” “in,” and “in” again – all would go with locatives. 481.19: “Gun, the farther…Bap! Bap!:” sound of “Gun”fire. Also, Michael Gunn, proprietor of Dublin’s Gaiety Theatre, is an FW father figure. Compare next. 481.20-482.2: “- Ouer Tad…sanction!:” Yawn’s interrogator had just ordered him to come down from the abstract to the concrete, from the totem-like demigod Yawn remembered at .1-6 to a more (“vulganized”/”vulcanized”(.9)) vulgarized version of the father, for instance the Tim of “Finnegan’s Wake.” Yawn complies with down-to-earth language (almost none of his questioner’s Latin) and scandalous rumors. 481.20: “Tad:” Dad, the (“farther”) father just mentioned. A response to “farther” and “Bap! Bap!” (.19), “Bappy,” as at 277.18, a version of “Pappy” 481.20: “orbits:” obits – obituaries. Response to fragments (“ob,” “urb”) of “Urbi et Orbi” sounded at .17 481.21: “humeplace:” given obituaries (see previous entry), a “humeplace” would be where he was inhumed, buried. The seven possible locations (.21-2) are not, as with Homer (see McHugh), birthplaces, but instead deathplaces; the obituary writers have listed seven different locations. (HCE is frequently itemized as, or broken up into, sevens, and there are seven places listed here.) 481.21-2: “Smithwick, Rhonnda, Kaledon, Salem (Mass):” as Mink notes, this revises four Greek locations into Smethwick (in England), Rhonnda (in Wales), Caledonia (Scotland), and Salem, Mass (in America). Part of his (see note to 481.20-482.2) program of coming down, from the ancient classics to vulgar present-day reality 481.22: “Duthless:” Joyce’s lists often include at least one questionable entry. Mink and McHugh both list this as Athens, but the connection remains obscure. 481.23-4: “every at man like myself:” every man for himself. Also, given that this begins with a version of the Lord’s Prayer (“Ouer Tad, Hellig Babbau” etc. (.20)), perhaps “atman,” which occurs at 596.24 and is there glossed by McHugh as Blavatsky’s word for “the spiritual self recognized as God.” (In view of the preceding, it pleases your annotator to add that the Oxford editors recommend changing “at man” to “atman.”) 481.24: “Abrahamsk and Brookbear:” response to “brauchbarred in apabhramsa” (.18). Roughly, Yawn has been asked which of two possible types his father’s spirit would assume on returning to life. His answer: “he might in a sense be both” (.23) – but see .26 and note. 481.25: “bapka:” response to “Bap! Bap!” of .19 481.26: “Mushame!:” see .24 and note. Despite waffling, he’s afraid that the side of his father to show up would probably be the shameful (Shemian) one – the one (.26-31) with bastard offspring all over town. 481.27: “stepstones:” stepping stones 481.27-8: “stumbledown:” tumbledown 481.29-30: “off the dosshouse back of a racerider in his truetoflesh colours:” see .26 and note. A typical example of one of the bastards: impoverished (dosshouse), all too true-to-life, too flesh-and-blood, in the resemblance to his begetter. Also, he is in the horse-racing and betting line, and - given his address - not with much success. 481.30-1: “a racerider in his truetoflesh colours, either handicapped on her flat or barely repeating himself:” a couple having sex. See next three entries. 481.30: “truetoflesh colours:” that is, naked. “Barely” (.31) confirms. 481.30-1: “handicapped on her flat:” compare prostitute in “Circe,” on her funds: “Hardearned on the flat of my back.” 481.31: “repeating himself:” compare “Ithaca:” “the superincumbent posture of energetic human copulation and energetic piston and cylinder movement.” 481.31: “tiptip tim oldy:” tiptop Timothy. Perhaps because of the inquisition under way, Yawn seems to have acquired a touch of his father’s stutter. Old Timothy is old tippling Tim Finnegan, from .14. 481.32: “I go in fear of:” compare “fearfilled” (.8). 481.32: “Tommy Terracotta:” the right material for a former divinity who, it turns out, has feet of clay 481.32-3: “he could be all your and my das:” the uncertainty of fatherhood, a recurring Joyce theme, is (see .26 and note) especially pertinent in this case. 481.33-4: “the brodar…Ranelagh:” again, the lists referring to the father figure usually number seven. 481.35: “fué fué:” Yet another response to “Fia! Fia!” of .9 481.35: “Petries:” given context (see next entry), pastry 481.35: “violet ice:” a 1900 recipe for “violet ice” includes vanilla ice cream and extract of violet. 481.35: “I am yam:” as elsewhere in FW, Popeye (“I yam what I yam”) doubles with Jehovah (“I am that I am”) 482.1: “Dodgfather, Dodgson and Coo:” Father, Son, and Co, Company. (Also, as McHugh notes, “Coo” is the sound of the Holy Ghost as the dove of the Annunciation.) 482.3: “Breeze softly:” breathe (your words) softly; soft breeze. Response to “spiriduous” (.2), Spiritus, the divine breath of the Holy Spirit. 482.3: “Breeze softly. Aures are aureas:” see McHugh, and compare 158.7: “a long one in midias reeds.” (Midas’s ass’s ears were long.) 482.3: “Aures are aureas:” Given context (Speak softly), perhaps “Walls have ears.” 482.4: “Me das has oreils:” the (“Me das”) thread, which as McHugh notes incorporates both Midas’s ass’s ears and his golden touch, began with “my das” (481.33). Compare next entry. 482.4: “Piercey, piercey, piercey piercey!:” Answer to question (.3) What’s his name? It’s “Persse O’Reilly,” the hostile HCE double of I.2; compare second note to .5. Yawn has had the name suggested to him by the “Aures”-to-“oreils” word-association, combining the two best-known stories about King Midas, his (Latin aurum) touch of gold and his (Latin auris) ass’s ears. Also, after consummating with Nora, Joyce reported, “Elle est piercée,” here signaling a primal-scene memory carried forward with “Vulva! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva” (482.7)! 482.5: “White eyeluscious and muddyhorsebroth!:” Oxford editors have “and no hears! Muddyhorsebroth!” It is not clear to me whether “and no hears!” is to follow “eyeluscious” or replace it. If the former, (“hears”) ears, prompted by (“oreils. Piercey” (.4)), Midas’s ears plus Persse O’Reilly, with his pierced ears, are paired with eyes. 482.5: “muddyhorsebroth:” or – see previous – “Muddyhorsebroth.” There is such a thing as horsebroth, and it is muddy in consistency and color. 482.6: “chiseller:” chiseler: Dublin slang for child. Suggests the speaker may be Luke of Dublin, the most urban of the four, addressing John, the most rustic of the four, to whom the others often condescend 482.6: “Haltstille, Lucas and Dublinn!:” Hold still, Luke and Luke’s (Leinster) Dublin! “Haltstille:” with (McHugh) German Haltestelle, bus stop, an answer to the question just asked, “where do you get off, chiseller?” Answer: at either one of what Mink identifies as the termini of the “steam tram” that “ran from Dub[lin] to L[ucan] via C[hapelizod].” 482.9-15: “- Macdougal…weight!:” speaker? McHugh names John, and the sequence certainly includes a number of John cues. On the other hand, the (rather hectoring) address appears to be to John, not from him, and the speaker is claiming that he has just heard and recognized John’s voice, presumably in the previous interjection (.6-7), ordering Luke to be quiet. Again, the interrogators sometimes wind up talking to one another, either through Yawn or just in separate spats. I suggest that the speaker here is Luke. 482.9-10: “his onagrass that is, chuam and coughan!:” the donkey (on the grass), chewing (the grass) and coughing. (Do donkeys cough? The internet says yes, when sick, and at 555.12-3 the donkey – “cuddy,” “donk” – is arguably the one with the “dying boosy cough.”) FW’s donkey always goes with John. Like all the other place-names sounded in this sequence, Tuam (“chuam) and Cavan (“coughan”) come from John’s Connacht. 482.10-1: “stavrotides:” as “stone crosses,” stones approximating the shape of a cross, these are found in Brittany. As “stone crosses,” or “Celtic crosses” – high stone memorial crosses, frequently combined with a circle centered at the intersection, they would predominate in the Celtic fringe, e.g. Johnny’s Connacht. Brittany was also considered a Celtic stronghold. 482.11: “weslarias round your yokohahat:” fashionable lady’s hats of the time could be decorated with wisteria blossoms. “Wis” is probably changed to “wes” because Johnny comes from the west. 482.12: “O’mulanchonry plucher:” melancholy creature – the donkey. (McHugh notes that “plucher” is Anglo-Irish for a wheezy cough; see .9-10 and note.) 482.13: “curst of Ireland:” drink is often said to be the curse of Ireland. 482.13: “Glwlwd of the Mghtwg Grwpp:” as McHugh notes, “Glewlwyd of the mighty grasp.” Probably a joky bit of imitative form: the vowels have been squeezed out by that mighty grasp. In any case, certainly requires extra effort to pronounce 482.13: “Grwpp:” grippe. The passage suggests that Connacht gets the worst of Ireland’s wet weather, which is on John’s (“worst curst of Ireland” (.12-3)) wet and curst west coast. Parnell is supposed to have died as a result of having gotten soaked in Galway (in Connacht); in “The Dead,” Galway’s Michael Furey died similarly. 482.15: “pull your weight:” that is, contribute your fair share of effort to the cause; Johnny is typically the laggard, the last in line. The weight being pulled is also his recalcitrant donkey. 482.16-21: “Hooshin…unelgible:” hearkens back to 110.22-111.4, FW’s original excavation. There, Biddy the hen scrapes up the letter and, alternately or also, the Ardagh Chalice (also remnants of the picnic); Kevin takes over and takes credit. (Spelled “Keven” (.18); Oxford editors correct to “Kevin.”) Here, he hooshes/hushes/shoos away the (“hin” (.16)) hen (alternatively gander, guinea fowl, or French poule) that has just found (“dogumen number one”) document number one, one name for the letter. 482.16: “regional’s:” “regional channels” were local radio stations. 482.19: “Posthorn:” post horn: symbol of mail service; “Keven”/Kevin is a type of Shaun, the post. 482.19-20: “Guiney gagag:” another overtone of “Guinea to a goosegog” from “Oxen of the Sun.” Compare 182.12-3, 452,32, 479.4-5. Also, again (see McHugh for “gagag”), a Guinea hen 482.21: “an illegible downfumbed by an unelgible:” the letter is an illegible document being thumbed dumbly by the dumbfounded uneducable who has, dumbly, found it: hopelessly uncomprehending the hopelessly incomprehensible 482.25-6: “crying stinking fish:” to add to McHugh’s note: the man who would not be doing this would be the fish merchant, trying to attract, not repel, customers. 482.26: “stroke oar:” see McHugh. Like Matthew, the stroke oar gives the orders. 482.27: “your too farfar a cock of the north there:” Oxford editors have “farfast” for “farfar.” Brewer: “He’s too far north for me. Too canny, too cunning to be taken in; very hard in making a bargain.” Said of people of Yorkshire, of Scotland, and, here, of Ulster. Also, Alexander Gordon, 4th Duke of Gordon and leader of the Gordon Highlanders, was called the “cock of the north.” 482.28: “due south:” nautical heading. South-north equal-opposite counterpoint of .27-30 may have to do with the “stroke oar” (.26) fact that to row in one direction is to face in the other. 482.29-30: “I’m-free-Down-in-Easia:” free and easy 482.33-483.1: “point…counterpoint:” to me, the following two sentences (“What…altereffects” 482.34-483.1) sound like counterpoint, with its coinciding “altereffects.” 483.1: “altereffects:” aftereffects. (Probably obvious) 483.3: “posterwise:” response to “Posthorn” (482.19) 483.4: “the hand of Sameas:” delayed response or not, Yawn first brought up the subject of Shem at 481.26. 483.4: “Shan – Shim – Schung:” response to “yokohat” oriental strain of 482.11. See note to 483.15-485.7. 483.5: “counterfeit Kevin:” the writing of Shaun/Kevin’s document, it has just been insinuated, is the same as “the hand of Sameas,” Shem, FW’s resident forger/counterfeiter. Alternatively, the suspicion is that Yawn is Shem, counterfeiting Shaun/Yawn/Kevin. 483.7: “reverye:” compare Bloom’s “backward [that is, reverse] eye” in “Calypso.” “Revery” is alternative, usually American, spelling of “reverie.” 483.7: “between me and thee:” i.e. entre nous: scandal (.6) being exchanged between two gossipers 483.7-8: “He would preach to the two turkies and dipdip all the dindians:” Turks, as in Muslim heathens ready for conversion. Also, probable overtone of “darkies,” along with (American) (“dindians”) Indians, also up for conversion, including (“dipdip”/”tauftauf” (3.10)) baptism, which in some versions involves dipping the candidate’s forehead into the font. Problem: as McHugh notes, “dindians” = French dinde, turkey, which traditionally gets eaten during American Thanksgivings, originally celebrated with American Indians, who like the American “darkies” would end up with reason to regret their part in the American enterprise. Joyce enjoyed observing Thanksgiving with his American friends. (Note another holiday, “easter” (.10), coming up.) 483.9: “give gold tidings:” as preacher, he gave them the Gospels, the “good news.” 483.9-10: “tidings…neappearance:” can’t explain the logic, but “neap-” is probably in there because of “tidings” 483.9-10: “bonze age of anteproresurrectionism:” those following false beliefs (taught by bonzes, pagan priests) before the revelation of Christ’s resurrection 483.10-11: “to entrust their easter neappearance to Borsaiolini’s house of hatcraft:” Easter is traditionally a time for displays of fashion – especially of hats (Easter bonnets for women; for Joyce here (see McHugh) a Borsalino). For a spell, the preacher’s preaching seems to have turned into an advertising pitch for a hat shop – probably the “firm” of .11. 483.12: “reasonable hesitancy:” reasonable doubt, as in a trial 483.13: “fourpriest:” a mass officiated by four priests is a special occasion, usually for the funeral of some notable. 483.13: “redmass:” A Red Mass is held annually for members of the legal profession. Fits trial context 483.14: “post:” past. Compare “reverye” of .6. 483.14: “pard!:” old term for panther. (Appears in this sense in Ulysses.) Perhaps relevant that, in bestiaries, the panther symbolizes Jesus 483.15ff: “Fierappel…:” accused of being indistinguishable from his scapegrace brother, Yawn launches into a long self-defense during which among other things he will claim to have taken holy orders. At 487.21 an exasperated Luke will object that “Hood maketh not frere,” that it takes more than a habit to make a monk. Overall, this is certainly one of the most garbled stretches in FW. The word “chink” at 485.16, pejorative for Chinese, is a clue as to why: in “Circe,” lines 957-64, Bloom, under legal assault, launches into a semi-coherent chopsticks-and-chop-suey stage-Chinese monologue (“Li li pool lil chile,” etc.), and throughout FW similar patches signal panicky defensiveness and real or pretended Mongolism. The rhythm is staccato; the syntax is paratactic; the logic, when discernible, is free-associative. 483.15: “Fierappel putting years on me!:” You’re always making me out to be older than I am! Probably a response to the suggestion (.9) that he was around in the Bronze Age. Oxford editors have, instead: “Fierappel! Putting years on me!” “Fierappel”/Fireapeel, as McHugh notes the leopard of the Reynard cycle, is a response “Leap, pard” (.14)! 483.15-6: “This bolt in had be my worder:” would seem to make most sense if the bolt is a (barbed) arrow and “worder” echoes “warder,” in (OED) sense of truncheon or staff of authority. Also, a long shot here: The “redmass” of .13 evokes the (“Redspot” (582.31)) red spot of Jupiter the planet, which in both cases combines with Jupiter the god, here in his characteristic pose of wielding a “bolt” of lightning. Compare 14.19, where the “wordwright from the excelsissimost empyrean” is “bolt, in sum,” the lightning bolt that according to Vico first gave mankind its conception and fear of divinity. Compare 485.25. 483.16-7: “blarneying Marcantonio:” Mercutio, talkative character in Romeo and Juliet. Perhaps, by association, elided with Antonio, the merchant of Venice. “Blarneying:” Blarney Stone, in Munster, home of Mark, the previous speaker, who is now being addressed. Compare first note to .22. 483.17-8: “What cans such wretch to say to I or how have My to doom with him?:” What can such a wretch have to say to me, and what can I have to do with him? Second question is probably from the refrain of Blake’s “To Tirzah,” “Then what have I to do with thee?” based on the resurrected Jesus’s words to his mother. (Stephen alludes to them in Portrait, chapter five.) Also, reverses the sentiment, and perhaps echoes the words, of the popular Anglican hymn beginning “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound / That saved a wretch like me.” In general, versions of “wretch” and “wretched” have been words for Shem. 483.19-20: “hairytop on heeltipper:” recalls father of Book I, whose cap-a-pie (from Hamlet’s father, head-to-foot) appearance is reflected in his antagonist, the cad with the pipe. Again, Shaun and Shem often embody top half and bottom half, head to toe, respectively, of FW’s central male figure. Also, a pint, from the frothy head to the bottom dregs: see next entry. 483.19: “heeltipper:” heeltaps: lees – relating to the fact that Jacob (see McHugh) came second 483.19-20:” unwachsibles:” compare 201.15: “worshipful socks.” Also, unmentionables – underwear. Oxford editors change to “umwachsibles.” 483.20: “ikeson:” icon 483.21: leperd:” response to “Leap, pard!” (.14) 483.21: “ens:” reality. Term introduced by Aquinas. Compare 157.23. 483.21: “fifteen primes:” the fifteenth prime number is 47. “Prime” also means spring. 482.22: “Ya all:” common pronunciation of Youghal, a town in the Munster of Mark, who is being addressed 483.22: “trilustriously:” among other things, trustingly 483.24-5: “did I altermobile him to a flare insiding hogsfat:” the main frame of reference is culinary, but this also seems to have him either burning his brother at the stake (rendered down to fat) or boiling him in oil (also fat). One way of solving the Shem problem. “Alter:” auto, as in auto da fe. (Oxford editors insert “?” after “hogsfat.”) 483.25-6: “Been ike hins kindergardien?:” as McHugh notes, a version of “Am I my brother’s keeper?,” this is a guilty reaction to the interrogator’s questioning whether he acknowledges his saintly brother – e.g. “Now, have you reasonable hesitancy in your mind about him” (.13). 483.25: “kindergardien:” before (“real school” (.22-3)) German Realschule, they were in kindergarten together. 483.26-7: “I am sure offed habitand:” I am sure of inhabiting. Also, embedded “habit” begins Yawn’s claim to be a monk. Compare .31-2: “when I received the habit.” See next entry. 483.27: “meis enfins:” like a man of the cloth, he addresses the others as (McHugh) “my children.” 483.27-8: “the first mover…caused:” First Mover and First Cause are similar or identical terms for God as the beginning of everything. 483.29-30: “ayr, plage and watford:” elements (McHugh) are components of the world, “under[ed] heaven” (.28). (Oxford editors have “underedheaven.”) 483.32: “received the habit:” accepted the order’s garb when received into its community 483.32ff: “I received…” until about 484.10, this simultaneously, erratically, covers a postulant entering a religious order and a young man submitting to anal intercourse. He is “falling” down and “crouched low.” “Embracing a palegrim,” he has “circumcised [his] hairs,” like the Bloom of “Circe” who, in fantasy, was a “nice-looking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be violated” by various males. He has of course undressed, exposing his “culpads,” buttocks, to someone who from “patristic motives” was “entering humble down, dead thrue mean scatological past, making so smell partaking myself.” The two form a beast-with-two-backs “octopuds,” “tumbluponing” together. He is “owning [his] mansuetude,” meekness, “before him,” his “sexth best friend,” who is “delated to back” him. The experience resembles “toppling Humphrey hugging Nephew, old beggelaut.” As elsewhere, the frantic fragmentation signals something he doesn’t want to remember or confess to. Compare note to .35. 483.33-4: “circumcised my hair:” the subject of the predicate “circumcised” is probably (.27-8) “that father,” as cleric, not parent. (Probably: the syntax is about as bollixed as anywhere in FW.) Being tonsured by a superior in the order is a major ritual in the process of becoming ordained. Oxford editors have “circumcissed.” 483.34: “Oh laud:” aside from “Oh Lord,” an allusion to Archbishop Laud, in Anglicanism responsible for the kind of high-church practices under review 483.34: “and removed my clothes from patristic motives:” sounds like protesting too much. Of course he removed his clothes: he had to, in order to put on the habit of a monk. What other motives might there have been? In any event (see next entry), he seems to feel that there is something to feel guilty about. 483.35: “meas minimas culpads:” the standard term is “mea maxima culpa.” “Mea minima culpa” is rare, not part of Catholic ritual, and sometimes used sarcastically. Here, Yawn may be apologizing for the, if anything, small sin of undressing, before donning his new habit (.32). “Culpads” recalls Mulligan in “Scylla and Charybdis,” facetiously advising Stephen to get himself a “breechpad” as protection against buggery. (Cul: French for arse) 484.2: “tumbluponing:” tumbling on or upon: happening upon someone or something, by accident 484.2: “yous octopuds:” as McHugh says, four people with two legs, the four evangelicals being addressed. Also, see note to 483.32ff. 484.4: “prostratingwards:” the initiation ceremony includes prostration. 484.5: “my thrain tropps offering meye eyesalt:” salt tears, falling like rain drops from my eyes (for his sins, apparently in relation to (“eyesalt”) Iseult. Oxford editors have “thraintropps.” 484.5-6: “what I (the person whomin I now am) did not do:” “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done.” Still, having joined the order, he is not that same person anymore. 484.7: “sexth:” next, sex 484.9: “ersed:” as “erst,” archaic English for “formerly” 484.9: “ersed irredent:” an Erse (Irish) irredentist would be someone demanding that Ireland be given back by the British. 484.11-3: “you snub around enclosing your moving motion touching the other catachumens continuing say providing append of signature:” the addressee has been called a beggar (.9). (Given context, it’s probably pertinent that “touch” is Irish slang for having sex.) Here the gist is that, despite his pretended support in the past, he is sneaking and sniffing around “touching” (begging loans from) young men, perhaps offering to sign I.O.U.’s, and forming a party against Yawn on the grounds that Yawn is a stuck-up double-dealer, just pretending to be a real islander. In fact, he will be happy to celebrate Yawn’s deathday. The language has momentarily lapsed (or climbed) into legalese – moving a motion (in “Aeolus,” Lenehan uses the phrase, mock-officiously), “touching” in the sense of related to, etc. 484.14: “dirthdags:” deathday (occurs in “Hades”): the anniversary of someone’s death, perhaps also as the day the body was consigned to the soil, or dirt. Oxford editors have “dirthdies,” adding dying to the mix. Becoming a monk, he both leaves his former life and begins his new life with a new birthday. Also, dearth: monks take a vow of poverty. 484.15: “a mockbelief insulant, ending none meer hyber irish:” a list of contradictions here. Making believe and mocking belief, insolent islander, no more and (McHugh) henceforth, hyper Irish and an Irish hybrid. 484.15-6: “chunk your dimned chink:” “I like your cheek” (here, “damned cheek”) was a common sarcastic rebuke to those aspiring beyond their station. 484.16: “chink:” pejorative term for the Chinese. See next entry. 484.16: “avtokinatown:” Chinatown 484.17-8: “vespian:” thespian: a sarcastic comment on his attacker as “blabber” (.8). Vespasian: i.e. urinal. Either way, an insult 484.18-9: “I’ve my pockets full of you laycreated cardonals:” That is, I own you; I’ve got you all in my pocket. Compare 282.20-3, where Kev, a version of Shaun/Yawn, makes cardinals of his four fingers, fingers which have just been picking pockets. See next entry. 484.19: “laycreated cardonals:” McHugh identifies as “lay cardinals.” A lay cardinal is a layman, someone who has never been a priest, bishop, or any other member of the church hierarchy, given the title of cardinal by the pope. “Honorary cardinal” would seem to be a fair approximation, and cited examples – a Medici, a ten-year old, a political favorite – sound awfully dodgy, something like the equivalent of a knighted beer baron. The best known lay cardinal was the controversial, worldly Cardinal Mazarin. With one anomalous exception, lay cardinals have never been allowed a vote in Vatican Conclave. On the internet, one word that sometimes precedes the expression is “only.” Yawn’s attitude is one of lordly contempt. 484.19: “cardonals:” 1. ordinal numbers, like Shaun’s fingers; 2. cardinal numbers; 3. cardinals. 4. ordinal – an Anglican missal 484.20: “Improperial!:” the Good Friday Improperia (McHugh) are read as the reproachful words of Jesus, as God, to his betrayers. There follows a catalogue of the ungrateful acts of Yawn’s followers. 484.20: “Hekkites:” HCE. (Also, as (McHugh) Hittites, enemies of the Israelites 484.21-2: “I teachet you…the W.X.Y.Z. and P.Q.R.S.:” Saint Patrick brought the alphabet, here the Latin alphabet of the (S.P.Q.R – “P.Q.R.S.”) Romans, to Ireland. The Roman Empire itself never invaded Ireland, and had withdrawn from Britain at or about Patrick’s 432 A.D. arrival. 484.23: “legatine:” papal legates have power over all local church leaders. 484.23-4: “episcoping me altogether:” in rejecting the pope, the Anglican (Episcopal) Church became a church of bishops. (Bishops wear copes.) 484.25: “you have remembered my lapsus langways:” “Circe:” Stephen to Lynch:” “You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes. How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty?” Saint Patrick had a never-revealed sin in his past. 484.27-8: “Mind of poison is. That time thing think! Honorific remembrance to spit humble makes:” a literal, word-for-dictionary-word, tone-deaf translation of, in this case, Japanese 484.29: “Aye vouchu to rumanescu:” I venture to remind you. 484.30: “Theophrastius:” Theophrastus followed Aristotle as leader of the Peripatetics (“peregrines” of .29). 484.31: “upper circle:” aside from highest of the cosmic spheres, the theatre seats next above the dress circle 484.32: “Prestopher Palumbus and Porvus Parrio:” combines Noah’s raven and dove with Christopher Columbus, the (translated) Christ-bearing Dove: Old Testament and New Testament paired. With P/K split (see McHugh), “Porvus Parrio” is, approximately, Latin for “Carrion Crow,” in “Circe” Stephen’s term for Catholic priests. 484.33-6: “Ho look at my jailbrand Exquovis and sequencias High marked on me fakesimilar in the foreign by Pappagallus and Pumpusmugnus: ahem! Anglicey: Eggs squawfish lean yoe nun feed marecurious:” certainly confusing, but he seems to be saying that as a prisoner he was branded with an inscription (in a foreign language, Latin: see McHugh) proclaiming that, in effect, he was indelibly depraved, that you wouldn’t be able to make this sow’s ear into a silk purse. (He is of course trying to make the opposite point – at 485.2-3 the inscription, he says, is not only a coat of arms but a king’s coat of arms - and failing as usual.) At times, the branding of prisoners with an initial or initials for the name of their crime has been commonplace. Oxford editors insert a comma after “Ho.” 484.34: “High:” I 484.36: “ahem! Anglicey: Eggs squawfish lean yoe nun feed marecurious:” another botched, literal-minded translation. Oxford editors replace “ahem!” with “aham!” – ham and eggs. 485.2: “morning coat:” article of fashion among gentlemen of the time 485.2: “tripenniferry:” again – see McHugh – a claim to noble, even royal, credentials, but the echo of “three-for-a-penny” undermines it. 485.3. “Sauer:” given .9 below, Tom Sawyer 485.4: “echo stay so!:” I (ego) say so! Again! Repeated in the next line: “Egoname.” 485.4: “eat or not eat body:” issue of the Real Presence in the Eucharist, along with a high church / low church debate over whether the service should include the Eucharist at all 485.5-6: “And, Mind, praisegad, is the first praisonal Egoname Yod heard boissboissy in Moy Bog’s domesday:” again, a claim to noble lineage, along the line of: My ancestors came over with William the Conqueror! My family name is the first listed in William’s Domesday Book! (And, of course, as King Edward VII, his name would lead any tabulation of precedence.) But, inconveniently, the historical fact is that names in the book were those not of the conquerors but the conquered. “Moy Bog” – my bog – shifts the scene to the twice-conquered Irish, and “Egoname” – agnomen: see 30.3 – tells us that his name, whatever it is, is unrelated to his original ancestry. 485.8: “Suck it yourself, sugarstick!:” clearly, a rude response to Yawn’s “Suck at!” (.7), which in turn, besides being (McHugh) St. Patrick’s birth name, was a typically mangled attempt at instructing his inquisitors, in German (“in alleman”), to (Bonheim) Suchet, search for, the (“first praisonal Egoname”) first surname in (“Moy Bog’s domesday”) this book of mine, Work in Progress/Finnegans Wake. (Depending on how you read it, the first such name was either “Eve” (3.1) or “Sir Tristram” (3.4), both of whom will show up during the continuing excavations.) The speaker – Luke - is out of patience with Yawn’s semi-coherent ramblings, and answers that he can just go and suck someone’s “sugarstick” – dick - perhaps, acrobatically, his own. Yawn’s testimony has supplied more than sufficient material (see 483.34, .35, and notes) for suspicions of rampant homosexuality, among other transgressions. 485.9: “sore toe:” in Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer, a “sore toe” is an object of fascination. 485.9-10: “taste your gaspy, hot and sour:” according to Google Books, the name “Hot and Sour Soup” did not make its way into English-language publications until the 1970’s. (Still, the dish itself had been around long before then, and there are a number of oriental allusions in the vicinity.) Less agreeably, part of a debased communion. Compare Bloom at his lowest, reduced to a drudge and ordered by Bella/Bello Cohen to “Drink me piping hot” from one of her “pisspots.” 485.9-10: “gaspy:” “gasper:” Edwardian slang for a high-tar cigarette. In Tom Sawyer, a character takes “two gasps” from a cigar. Also, response to “Gaspey” of .3. In context 485.10: “sour:” in the original transition publication, followed by “Bo ba bi bo bum!” Neither McHugh nor the Oxford editors include it as a variant; the James Joyce Digital Archive does. (As elsewhere, your annotator is noncommittal on genetic issues.) In any case, compare 251.18: “A bimbamb bum!” In A Wake Newslitter, Luigi Schenoni glosses this as “an Italian count out in children’s games.” Games or not, the context here is definitely childish, not to say bratty - specifically, the children (see .3 and .9 and notes) Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. 485.10: “Ichthyan:” response to “Itch dean” (.4). Also as “Ichtian,” a sarcastic comment on his pretensions to Godhood, by way of Jesus as Ichthos. Also, see second entry for .13. 485.10: “Gags be plebsed!:” a sarcastically distorted response to Yawn’s “praisegad” (.5) – God be praised!. Also, equal-oppositely, God as pleb, plebian 485.11: “between his voyous and her consinnantes:” a courtship exchange between a man and a woman. He: “Voyez-vous?” She consents, and sins. Note: reverses usual FW – in fact, Joycean – convention that consonants are male and vowels female, perhaps as commentary on Yawn’s garbled account of his origins. 485.11-2: “Thugg, Dirke and Hacker with Rose Lankester and Blanche Yorke!:” more mockery of Yawn’s mixed-up claims to blue-blood ancestry. Were your forebears Anglo-Saxons or Normans, run-of-the-mill Tom, Dick, and Harry or the noble dynasts of the War of the Roses, a bunch of common cutthroats (see next entry) or their high-toned - though to be sure equally murderous - betters? The combination of two females and three armed men recalls Book I’s scandal in the park – always a sin of the father, who will be mentioned at .17 as “old fellow,” Irish term for father, and as (“Hell’s Confucium and the Elements!”) HCE at .35. 485.11: “Dirke:” dirk: a ruffian’s (“Thugg”’s) weapon, along with another’s “hacker,” a sword or axe 485.13: “Oy soy:” as McHugh notes, a stage-English accent for “I say.” May be a sarcastic response to Yawn’s royal pretensions (.2-3). See next entry. 485.13: “are you sprakin sea Djoytsch?:” as (McHugh) are you speaking German?, another sarcastic response, this one to Yawn’s German “Itch dean” (.2-3). (Again, see McHugh.) Up until 1914, fluency in German signified culture – or, when affected, pretentiousness. After then, it would have been a source of embarrassment that King Edward VII’s motto of “Ich dien” (.3) testified to the royal family’s Germanic origins, enough that in 1917 its name was changed to (“Windsewer” (420.24)) Windsor. (Joyce makes sardonic use of this fact in “Cyclops,” which includes foreshadowings of the Great War, fought for king and country.) Here, an item in the accusations or suspicions leveled at Yawn 485.13: “Bleseyblasey:” as McHugh notes, yet another response, here to “boissboissy” (.6). Given context, probably also (sarcastic) blasé. 485.17: “thruppenny croucher:” response to “tripenniferry cresta” (.2), this time with the latent “three-penny” foregrounded. (As in The Threepenny Opera (as McHugh Notes, Polly Peachum, from that play and its successor, The Beggar’s Opera, appears at .20), the word connotes poverty, shabbiness.) A “croucher” is an abject forelock-tugger, someone forever kowtowing to authority figures – like a “twicer” (.24), a cringing low-life. Luke is countering Yawn’s “upper circle” pretensions (484.31) with a catalogue of his disreputable ancestors. 485.17: “old fellow:” again, a common Irish term for father 485.20: “Fat prize the bonafide peachumpidgeonlover:” What price the [noun]: indicates that something has been obtained at too high a price. (“Fat” rubs it in.) In both The Beggar’s Opera and The Threepenny Opera, Macheath’s marriage to Polly Peachum earns him a sentence to be hanged. (Can’t see how it fits, but a pigeon-lover is, usually, a fan of pigeon-racing. The “hohallo!” of .22 sounds a falconer’s call to his falcon – see “Circe,” Hamlet. ) Perhaps also a reference to the Peaches – Daddy Browning scandal of 64.22-65.23. 485.20-2: “eh, eh, eh,…I’ve Ivy…hohallo:” again (see .17 and note), the forebear being recalled here is the father, HCE, with his stutter, here making a phone call. (His signature is a capital E.) Perhaps a disreputable figure, certainly a clownish one; compare, in “Hades,” Bloom’s idea of a recording left by a deceased relative for family to remember him by: “Hellohellohello.” 485.23: “his boost friend:” response to 474.7-8: “my sexth best friend.” In American slang, a “booster” is a congenital optimist or promoter of some cause – here, a friend who sees only his best points. 485.23-4: “be shanghaied to him?:” be hanged to him – common expression of dismissal 485.24: “swaaber:” a swabber (or swab, or swabby): a lowly sailor, one who swabs the deck. Goes with “shanghaied” (.23-4) – to be captured on shore and forced into shipboard labor, probably of the most menial kind 485.24: “twicer:” crook 485.24-5: “twicer, trifoaled in Wanstable!:” foaled (born) in a stable – a play on Wellington’s sardonic remark (apocryphal: see 10.17-18 and note) that having been born in Ireland didn’t make him Irish any more than having been born in a stable would have made him a horse; compare “Willingdone, bornstable ghentleman” (10.17-8). Other notes add a touch of blasphemy: Jesus, the (“tri…Wan”) three-in-one God emblematized in Saint Patrick’s (“trifoaled”) trefoil/shamrock, was born in a barn, among farm animals; accordingly the two-three-one count probably refers to the Trinity. 485.25: “Loud’s curse:” compare 259.3 and 259.7, where “Loud” is the Lord, expressing himself loudly. According to Vico, humanity’s conception of God began with the sound of thunder. 485.26: “lubberintly:” labyrinthily – the labyrinth of the (“innereer’d” (.27)) inner ear. Also, by contrast with “swaaber,” a (land)-lubber. In general, “lubberly” behavior is clumsy, third-rate. 485.26: “nightmale:” nightmare, night mail (train), night males. For the third, compare 461.24-8, where Issy’s erotic nighttime extends from “the night’s foreign males” to sunup. 485.27: “drums and bones and hums in drones:” along with the labyrinth, the equipment and workings of the inner ear. As elsewhere in FW (see, e.g., 23.25-7 and note), the ear, with its “drums,” makes sounds as well as receiving them. (Categorically, all sensations in Joyce are interactive, projections as well as receptions.) 485.28: “Tsing tsing!:” Given “hung,” “twicer,” and the general tone, perhaps Sing Sing – familiar name for Ossining Prison, which practiced executions - before the 1891 introduction of the electric chair, by hanging 485.29: “Me no angly mo, me speakee Yellman’s lingas:” I’ll stop (trying to) speak English and speak Chinese (of the yellow man) instead. 485.29: “Yellman’s:” yelling man: response to Luke’s complaint about loud noises (.25-8) 485.30: “Me no pigey ludiments:” he won’t speak pidgin anymore. (But then, in the next line, “Me pigey…”) Combines with overtone of “Me no spikka,” conventional tag for foreigners saying they don’t speak, usually (“angly” (.29)) English. “Ludiments” for rudiments is more stage-Chinese. 485.31: “fella:” response to “old fellow” (.17) 485.31: “savvy:” slang for understand 485.33: “Lukie Walkie:” as Adaline Glasheen notes, all four of the inquisitors are called Walker at some point. The four old men are walkers: on their introduction, arriving on foot, they “hopped it up the mountainy molehill” (474.22). 485.33-4: "cowbelly maam belgame:" Digger Dialects: "belly belong me he think" is Papuan pidgin English for "I am of opinion that...but can give no solid reasons." 485.34: “boohoomeo:” boo-hoo – the sound of infantile crying; will be remembered as “sob story” (486.1). 485.35: “moohootch:” response to “cowbelly” (.33) and “boohoomeo” (.34) 485.36-486.1: “ponnippers!:” Nip(s): slang for Japanese; nippers: slang for children 486.6-7: “toone…vowelglide:” “toone,” pronounced as “two-one,” is probably the example here of a vowel-glide. 486.7: “hattrick:” response to “cawthrick” (.2) 486.8: “dragoman:” Yawn as interpreter and intermediary between questioners and the lower depths 486.9: “Mere man’s mime: God has jest:” Oxford editors have “Mere man is mime: God is jest.” In Pope’s “Essay on Man,” man is “the glory, jest, and riddle of the world.” 486.11: “chink:” slang for Chinese. See next entry. 486.12: “jape:” Jap: slang for Japanese. Perhaps also, paralleling “chink,” gap. 486.12-3: “little fellow in my eye:” etymologically, “pupil” derives from pupilla, the pupil of the eye; a pupula is a little boy. (Probable connection – see two previous entries – with Orientals-as-diminutive.) The subject is seeing his own miniature reflection in a hypnotist’s eye – as in Donne's “The Good-Morrow.” 486.14: “poor armer in slingslang:” arm in sling. Perhaps also an overtone of Port Arthur, Manchuria, site of both a massacre in the Sino-Japanese War in 1894, and of the Japanese defeat of the Russian fleet in 1904. 486.14: “slingslang:” singsong 486.14-33: “Now…fading:” incorporates elements of Masonic initiation: “temple,” T-square, placing of compass point to breast and asking, “Do you feel anything?” 486.14: “Tuttu:” Italian tutti: everything 486.15: “burial jade:” jade ornaments excavated from tombs. Jade in particular because of oriental context 486.15: “to your temple:” hand to temple was a common stage mentalist’s gesture. 486.17-9: “- I see a blackfrinch pliestrycook…who is carrying on his brainpan…a cathedral of lovejelly for his…Tiens, how he is like somebodies!:” (Ellipses in original.) Upright prompts image of vertical line crossed on top by horizontal line at 90˚ angle: a man with a platter on his head. “Blackfrinch” sounds like backfrisch, slang for a teenage girl. (I don’t see how that fits in here; it may possibly be anticipating the Issy apparition of the next response.) “Cathedral,” like “Templar,” is probably cued by “temple” (.15). In any case, it goes with The French cast of this passage, which as McHugh says can reflect Tristan’s French influence. Standard tokens of Frenchiness follow: cuisine (pastrycook”), love-making (“lovejelly”) – the man with the platter on his head is carrying sweets to his sweetheart. “Brainpan” and “somebodies” may signal the French equivalent of Franglais. 486.17: “pliestrycook:” French plié can mean either twisted or two-fold. Here, the latter seems likelier: the vision is of a plural “somebodies”(.19). 486.21: “I horizont the same, this serpe with ramshead:” that is, he is moving the T shape from vertical to horizontal, thus giving it the outline of a sideways line with horns projecting perpendicularly, upward and downward, from one end. Note: Oxford editors have “same” being followed by a figure resembling facing the opposite direction. 486.23-5: “ - I feel a fine lady…floating on a stillstream of isisglass…with gold hair to the bed…and white arms to the twinklers…O la la!” (Again, ellipses in original.) shape (or – see previous – other way around) translates into vision of lady (Iseult) lying horizontal on her bed, her head over the edge, with her long hair falling downward and her arms reaching upward. Labials of “lip a little…liplove” provide sound effects for conjuration of “stillstream.” (Also, speaking of streams, at 327.14, Issy’s truckle bed is a “trickle bed.” If ALP is a river, her daughter is a rivulet.) Isinglass is semitransparent and was sometimes used for windows, hence stream-like; as a jelly made from fish, it is probably prompted here by “lovejelly” (18). “Twinklers” are stars, perhaps (like the ones Molly Bloom sees/imagines in “Penelope”), decorations in the ceiling wallpaper. “O la la!” continues the cartoon-French thread. First words echo “To see a fine lady upon a white horse.” The two upstretching arms are Issy’s II (sometimes i i) signature. 486.27: “I invert the initial of your tripartite:” the initial of Patrick’s Tripartite Life is "T;" inverted, it becomes the shape of a T, upside down: see next entry. Note again (see note to .21): Oxford editors have and upside-down T following “initial.” 486.28: “on your breast:” in placing the inverted T-shape to Yawn’s breast, the interrogator enacts a physician applying a stethoscope, listening for the patient’s heartbeat. (Early stethoscopes, in use into the 20th century, terminated in a large flat disc, positioned perpendicular to the tube.) 486.30: “I ahear of a hopper behind the door slappin his feet in a pool of bran:” Mental image, from : a cartoon rabbit (“hopper”), its big feet stuck out right and left, its long ears sticking straight up. I suggest that the wet “slappin” sound he hears is of the love-making of Tristram and Iseult, who were brought together in the last two sequences, listened to from behind their door. (The liquid sounds of .22 seem to be still around. In "Cice," the sounds approximate "liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop.") “Slappin” includes lapin, French for rabbit, and rabbits are and were proverbial for incessant sex. In retrospect, stage one was the man’s arrival, stage two was his getting horizontal, stage three penetration; “love jelly” signified sexual secretions, both his and hers, whose mingling produces “slappin” sound. “Pool of bran” is a delayed response to “brainpan” (.18); maybe - long shot - the pastrycook could also, as a regular baker, turn out baked (bran) bread. Pronounced metrics (four anapests, probable line break, two dactyls, ending, I think, in a cretic) surely convey the sound of the heart’s beating; iambs are proverbially the normal rhythm for the heart (lub-dub), but, given the circumstances, Yawn’s heart would be racing. At this point, the three Q & A’s have followed the custom in some churches of crossing forehead, lips, and breastbone in sequence while promising to obey God with thoughts, words, and heart. Also, there seems to be a certain admixture of Freemasonry (see .14-33 and note): in Masonic initiation ceremonies a compass point is pressed against the candidate’s naked left breast and he is asked, “Do you feel anything?;” the geometric square (though not T square) is a central Masonic symbol; Knights Templars are a branch of Freemasonry sworn to Christianity. 486.34: “irmages:” “ir” prefix means “irregular” 487.1: “iberborealic:” hyperbolic. Also, Irish (Hibernian) viewing of the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights, at certain times and places visible from Ireland. (McHugh has Mark as the likeliest interrogator here; I incline toward Matthew, the bossy one.) 487.2-3: “largely substituted in potential secession from your next life by a complementary character, voices apart? Upjack!:” again, I suggest that this traces to Joyce’s knowledge that his birth, bestowing all the de facto privileges of primogeniture, was preceded by the birth and early death of a son named John. (In “Ithaca” (U 17.2264), Stephen is “the eldest surviving son of Simon Dedalus.”) “Jack” is a familiar version of John. See .10 and note. 487.7: “thogged:” thought 487.9-10: “odinburgh:” besides Edinburgh, Dublin, founded by the Odin-worshiping Vikings. 487.10: “addlefoes:” Oedipus. In one letter, Joyce blamed both his father and himself for his mother’s early death; the idea returns in Ulysses. 487.10: “Jake Jones:” response to “Upjack!” (.4). In a sequence that anticipates the last scenes of Ghostbusters, Yawn has been cautioned to be careful what subject he thinks of next, presumably on the basis that thinking it will bring it to the fore; the inquisitor says that the reaction, “The next word,” will depend on Yawn’s answer (.5-7). Given that the inquisitor’s “Upjack!” has already put the subject in his mind, this was a an especially sneaky kind of trick. (As a child, Tolstoy was ordered by his brother to stand in a corner until he stopped thinking about a white bear; he stood there for hours.) As to be expected, he muffs the answer, not only with “Jake Jones” but with such equivocal remarks as “I’m not meself at all” (.18). 487.11: “boy’s apert:” as McHugh notes, response to “voices apart” (.4). (Oxford editors have “boys’s apert,” which would augment the similarity.) 487.12: “nexword:” response to “next word” (.5) 487.13-5: “A few times, so to shape, I chanced to be stretching…the liferight out of myself in my ericulous imaginating:” trying on, or even imagining that he was “trying on,” his brother’s “substisuit” (.11), he was stretching it out of any recognizable shape, because, as Shaun, he’s the fat one, with (see .16 and note) the middle-age spread. “Ericulous” probably combines Eris, goddess of discord, with “ridiculous.” 487.14: “stretching:” as in “stretch of the imagination” (“imaginating” (.15)). May be pertinent that in Huckleberry Finn a “stretcher” is somewhere between an exaggeration and an outright lie. 487.14: “shadow as I thought:” shadow of a doubt 487.14-18: “liferight…messmate…pottage…meself:” embeds elements of the story of the “mess of pottage” for which Esau sold his birthright. A reply to an insinuating question about whether he ever thought about being “substituted in potential succession…by a complementary character” (.2-4), the issue will be driven home, accusingly, by the next question: “The voice is the voice of jokeup, I fear” (.21-2). Yawn’s “my addlefoes, Jake Jones” (.10), a response to the questioner’s “Upjack!” (.4), is, to repeat (see .10 and note), in all probability not unrelated to the fact that both the older brother who died in infancy and the younger brother who did not were named “John Joyce;” “Jack” is an informal version of “John.” 487.14-5:” the liferight out of:” the life right out of 487.15: “ericulous:” ridiculous, miraculous 487.15: “ericulous imaginating:” response to “iberborealic imagination” (.1). (Talk of Yawn’s wild imagination presumably relates to the visions he experienced at 486.6-32.) 487.15-6: “Scotch and pottage:” Scotch Pot: distilled whiskey. Also, Scotch porridge goes with (.9-10) Edinburgh. 487.16: “roung my middle ageing:” compare “muddleage spread” (491.8), middle-aged spread. Oxford editors have “round,” adding a degree of rotundity. 487.17: “baste:” “bastard” derives etymologically from bast, French for pack-saddle. (The pedlars who rode them were supposedly the traveling salesmen of their day.) Also, “basting” is a kind of stitching. 487.17: “my gots:” Mein Gott! 487.20-1: “In the becoming was the weared, wantnot! Hood maketh not frere:” sarcastic response to “become” (.19). Some of Yawn’s evasive answer involved clothing and change of clothing (.11-2, .17: see note), and “becoming” is a word often applied to someone’s new clothes, as in “How becoming!” (Here, ironic.) The speaker here chooses to hear these words as meaning that Yawn claimed to have changed his identity by changing clothes with his brother, that becoming someone else was just a matter of wearing something else. But no: in the beginning was the word, not “weared,” and it takes more than a hood to make a friar. (The bit about the brother is largely the inquisitor’s accusatory interpolation, imposed on Yawn’s vague meandering about some male he once knew.) The interrogation, resembling Christian theological disputes about the nature of the Trinity, will continue at 488.2-3, with its talk of “indwellingness” “entwined of one or atoned of two.” It’s pertinent that Jacob tricked Isaac and disenfranchised Esau by a change of garment. 487.21: “wantnot:” as in “Waste not, want not” – perhaps a response to “baste” (.17) 487.21: “hood maketh not frere:” see note to 483.15ff. 487.22: “Trickpat:” Jacob, as someone who tricked his (Latin pater) father 487.26: “God save the monk!:” response to “frere” (.21), friar. (The two are of course not identical, but, in this chapter, who cares?) 487.27: “strict crossqueets:” strict cross-examination. Response to “straight question” (.25); also, “Cross Questions and Crooked Answers” was, according to Brewer, a “parlour game which consists in giving ludicrous or irrelevant answers to simple questions” – not a bad description of much of this chapter. 487.29-30: “Same no can, home no will, gangin I am. Gangang is Mine and I will return:” McHugh, but not the Oxford editors, recommend moving this to follow “darkest horse in Capalisoot,” which seems to make sense. In either case, “can,” “gangin” and “Gangang” are Scottish idioms. As in the “gang her gates” of “Oxen of the Sun,” it means to leave, to get out. 487.30: “Out of my name you call me:” probably refers to “The voice is the voice of jokeup,” Jacob (.22). 487.31: “shelter:” Oxford editors have “sheltar.” He was also called “Roma” (.22) – Gypsy – and the secret language of Irish gypsies is Shelta. (See McHugh on “Leelander” and “shelter.”) 487.32: “he’s darkest horse in Capalisoot:” (Oxford editors have “the” before “darkest.”) Combining English with Gaelic, “Capalisoot” may be read as sooty (therefore dark) horse – all the better, at night, for eluding capture. 487.32-3: “You knew me once but you won’t know me twice:” compare “Circe:” “You’ll know me the next time,” meaning, You’ve been staring at me for way too long. (Joyce, like his daughter given to prolonged staring, must have heard that, now and then: see note to 51.25-6.) Here, the opposite: you’re not getting another chance to look me over. In general, Yawn’s response in this answer is about avoiding discovery: I’ll speak a language or languages you don’t recognize, I’ll slip away on a sooty - therefore dark and hard to see - horse at night, I’m getting the hell out of here. Besides – here, probably, speaking for FW as well – “I am simpliciter arduus” (.33), just too difficult for the likes of you to understand. 487.34: “Freeday’s child in loving and thieving:” combines Thursday and Friday, from the nursery rhyme. Joyce was born on a Thursday, therefore, according to the rhyme, inclined to (“stolentelling” (424.35)) thieving. (Sure enough, the responder (.35-6) will next accuse him of plagiarism.) A free day is a day off from work or school. 620.11-2: “There is no school today.” 487.35: “My child:” response to “Freeday’s child” (.34). Spoken as if from a priest to a communicant, whether a child or not. 487.36: “Synodius:” synod – an appropriate gathering for a theological dispute. Can be either Protestant or Catholic; as Presbyterian synod, it would be another (Edinburgh) Scottish note. 488.2: “shamefieth:” came forth 488.3: “atoned:” in sense of: made one 488.3: “Art simplicissime:” response (and comeback) to “simpliciter arduus” (487.33) 488.4-12: “Dearly….he!:” if possible, even more evasive than before. Again, a theological or pseudo-theological discourse (heavily Latinate) on, mainly, Trinitarian identity – how one person, or Person, can also be another. Giordano Bruno, introduced by way of “Bruno and Nola” (.4), is prominent because his speculations ran counter to Trinitarian dogma; in particular, in proposing that there might be multiple worlds with other intelligent inhabitants, he raised the unsettling question of whether there would then have to be multiple Christs to redeem them. Yawn is aiming for a Brunonian resolution: my brother and I are both completely the same and completely different, by way of the coincidence of contraries. 488.4: “Dearly beloved:” words beginning marriage service 488.5: “stationary:” stationery. (Bookstores in Ireland, in this case Browne & Nolan, also sell stationery.) 488.5: “lifepartners:” partners for life, after being married 488.6: “himupon:” hereupon 488.13-4: “- One might hear in their beyond that lionroar in the air again, the zoohoohoom of Felin make Call. Bruin:” (Most writers would probably have set off “in their beyond” with commas.) In FW, Finn McCool’s body extends under Phoenix Park, where the zoo is, including lions and (“Bruin”) bears. A lion is a feline (“Felin”); the zoo is its (“-hoom”) home. Also, see next entry. 488.14: “Noble:” probably traces to “Nola”/”Nolans” (.7/.14) as (“their beyond that lionroar” (.13)) lions, traditionally the noblest of the beasts. “Nolans” makes for a fairly close slant rhyme of “lions.” 488.15: “aver:” response to “Ipanzussch,” that is Ibn Rushd, that is Averröes (.7). According to Oxford editors, the following “who is? If is itsen?” should read “who is? Ib is itsen?” - making for a reprise of “Ibn Sen” (.7), identified by McHugh as Avicenna. To simplify, Averröes and Avicenna are sometimes linked in histories of the Islamic Golden Age, especially as antagonists in their attitudes towards Aristotle. 488.16: “alibi:” Latin for other 488.16: “unegoistically:” response to “egobruno” (.8) 488.17: “Dustify:” as in “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” part of funereal message here 488.18: “breather:” that is, someone who is still alive, for a time 488.18: “Ruemember, blither, thou must lie:” 1. both rue (sorrow) and blithe (happy). Bruno’s motto was “In tristia hilaris hilaritate tristis:” In sadness cheerful, in gaiety sad. 2. A version of Pretorian Guard’s words to emperor during triumphs, often rendered “Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal,” i.e. thou must die. Probably a response to Yawn’s “mortal powers” (.8). 3. to Yawn: stop blithering, start lying. 488.19: “-Oyessoyess!:” as “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!,” proclamation at beginning of British courts 488.19: “prebeing a postman:” the Mullingar Inn also served as a post office. “Prebeing:” that is, in a former life 488.20: “ostralian:” with ost, German for east, this can be a version of “Austrian.” Trieste was in Austro-Hungary. 488.21-2: “ne’er to name, my said brother, the skipgod:” beside (McHugh) scapegoat, scapegrace. “Ne’er” as in “ne’er-do-well.” 488.23: “looking at churches from behind:” that is, at their apses 488.23-4: “Hullo Eve Cenograph:” compare Stephen in “Proteus,” imagining a telephone call to Eve through the “strandentwining cable” of linked navelcords: “Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville, Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one.” 488.24: “Cenograph…every Allso’s Night:” Cenotaph: British monument to WW I dead. The dead in general are believed to walk on All Souls’ Night. 488.25-6: “Noughtnoughtnought nein. Assass:” the phone number reflects the presence of the four evangelists: the three synoptics, the odd one out (John/Johnny) and his ass. The (“Cenograph” (.24)) telegraph’s message is being dictated over the telephone. The “punk”s, besides being the “stop”s of telegraphy, may also be the sound of coins being dropped into the telephone’s coinbox. 488.26: “Dublire:” both Dublin and Dún Laoghaire, Dublin’s port city 488.26: “Neuropaths” a neuropath can be either a nerve doctor or someone suffering from a disorder of the nervous system. Neural paths are electrical, and FW repeatedly coordinates them with other electrical communications – here, telegraph and telephone. 488.27: “opening tomorrow:” opening day for the “play” or “plays” 488.29: “Alby:” response to “alibi” (.16) 488.29: “Geoff:” short for Noah’s son Japhet 488.29: “blighter:” brother 488.30: “white patch on his rear:” suspected shirkers during WW I were presented with white feathers (from chickens’ tail feathers) as a token of cowardice. To “show the white feather” was to turn tail and run. See next. 488.30-1: “How he went to his swiltersland after his lungs:” he went to Switzerland (he said) on doctor’s orders, apparently because the clean mountain air would be good for his lungs. After WW I began, Joyce left Trieste in Austria-Hungary, one of the combatants, to sit out the war in Zurich. 488.31: “my sad late brother:” as in “my said brother” (.22), the one just mentioned 488.31-2: “coglionial expancian:” colonial expansion. Also, as (see McHugh) cogliones: increasing the reproductive rate is one way of expanding colonially. 488.32-4: “Won’t you join me in a small halemerry, a bottle of the best, for wellmet Capeler, united Irishmen, what though preferring the stranger:” let’s toast him even though he’s abandoned us for foreign parts. (In Exiles, Joyce stand-in Richard Rowan is charged with having abandoned Ireland “in her hour of need.”) “Stranger:” foreigner 488.33: “Capeler:” response to “Capalisoot” (487.32) 488.36: “Graw McGree:” Gaelic: Love of My Heart 489.2-3: “fuchs…ladgers:” first, latter 489.3: “V.V.C:” Italian for toilet: double VC, pronounced dooble-Vay-Say. The pairing with (McHugh) the V. C./Victoria Cross doubtless reflects Joyce’s usual feelings about such official distinctions, as with the “Aeolus” translation of the honorific “K. M. R. I. A.” to “Kiss My Royal Irish Arse.” 489.4: “Fullgrapce:” grapes, as in the story of the fox and the grapes. (As McHugh notes, I.6’s Mookse (“muxy”) and Gripes (“-grapce”), are both included on this line; the Aesop fable is a major source.) 489.4-5: “Would he were even among the lost!:” that is, one of the soldiers presumed dead whose bodies were not found. If he were one of the officially dead, we would at least be able to pray for him properly: with an “Oremus poor” (.6) “Oremus pour,” for instance. 489.6-7: “that he may yet escape the gallews and still remain ours faithfully departed:” Oxford editors change “departed” to “deported.” at .4 we heard a version of “have mercy on your soul,” traditionally the last words spoken by a judge to the condemned. Three ways for convicted criminals not to be hanged: to commit suicide (also known as “cheating the hangman”), to be sentenced to the (“gallews”) galleys, to be deported, for instance to Australia. 489.7: “faithfully departed:” again, “departed” may be (see .6-7) and note “deported,” but the “faithful departed” is still audible - a phrase traditionally applied to the dead. Occurs in Ulysses. Here, can also signify someone who has, simply, left the scene. 489.9: “on the airse:” over the (Irish, Erse) radio. He’s glad the “bad man” (.8) is gone and out of sight, but would still like to hear his voice on the radio. 489.10: “in the antipathies of austrasia:” both Austria and Australia. Joyce wrote much of Ulysses when living in the Austro-Hungarian Empire; Shem sometimes hails from the antipodal prison colony of Australia. (Later references to New South Wales (.13) and the Australian cities of Sydney and Albany (.31-2), identified by McHugh, continue the theme.) 489.11: “with my fawngest:” with my fondest: typical sign-off in a letter. (Other examples appear at .24-6.) Here, the letter was apparently accompanied with (“hooshmoney” (.11)) hush-money. (Some of Joyce’s Irish readers wished he had been hushed in time.) 489.12: “hopped it:” escaped from the law 489.12: “lime:” as in limelight. 489.13: “E. Obiit Nolan:” compare Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “absit nomen!.” Gifford and Seidman translate this as “let the name be absent,” and add that “it also involves a pun on the stock phrase ‘let there be (no) ill omen (in a word just used).’” 489.13: “my fond fosther:” “fosther,” I suggest, may accommodate overtones of father, brother, sister, and mother – and, of course, foster. Compare Portrait, chapter two: “He felt that he was hardly of the one blood with them but stood to them rather in the mystical kinship of fosterage, fosterchild and fosterbrother.” 489.15: “ham:” Ham, one of Noah’s sons, the one who saw him naked, and originator of the dark-skinned races; see both notes to .27. 489.16: “castor and porridge:” childhood memories. Both castor oil and porridge were often given to children, the former as either medicine or punishment. 489.17: “expecting for his clarenx negus, a teetotum abstainer:” excepting for that one mixed wine concoction, he totally abstained from drink. (Also – see McHugh on “teetotum” – from gambling.) Oxford editors’ change of “abstainer” to “obstainer” complicates the question: after all, that claret negus is still and alcoholic beverage. 489.18-9: “ought to be asamed of me as me to be ashunned of him:” either response to or memory of 488.2-3: “of that which shamefieth be entwined of one or atoned of two.” Again, “atoned” in the sense of “asamed,” made one 489.19: “We were in one class of age like two clots of egg:” Castor and Pollux were hatched from an egg – here, logically, a double-yoked egg. As twins, they were the same age. “Age” probably echoes “egg.” See second note to .28. 489.20-1: “my namesick, as we sayed it in our Amharican:” OED entry for “namesake” as adjective: "That shares the same name as someone or something else previously mentioned. Now chiefly North American.” “Sick” is an adjective, and the brother “Ham” was mentioned at .15. (All volumes of the OED became available shortly after Joyce began FW.) 489.21: “Doubly Telewisher:” see McHugh. Again, during Joyce’s lifetime there was no such thing as Dublin television. 489.22-3: “Worndown shoes upon his feet, to whose redress no tongue can tell!:” shoe’s tongue. These shoes are (“Worndown”) wooden as well as worn-down, and wooden shoes have no tongues. “Redress” as re-dress: he needs new clothes, beginning with footwear. 489.23: “boot:” given next sentence, he is begging, requesting a “boot” – a favor. 489.23-4: “Spare me do:” a (delayed) response to 485.19-20: “Spira in Me Domino, spear me Doyne!:” 489.27: “africot lupps:” African lips. See next entry. 489.27: “man with the moonshane:” man in the moon. Probably alludes to music hall song (present in Ulysses), “If the Man in the Moon was a Coon.” 489.28: “moonshane in his profile:” See previous two entries. “Shine” was a derogatory term for African-Americans. 489.28: “halfbrother:” Castor and Pollux had different fathers. See .19 and note. 489.30-1: ”S. H. Devitt, that benighted irismaimed, who is tearly belaboured:” damaged (maimed iris) eyes, causing tears. Michael Davitt is perhaps paired here with his erstwhile ally Parnell, the victim of a vicious assault on his eyes, with (“throw any lime on the sopjack” (.12) quicklime. (Joyce: the Irish “threw quicklime in his eyes.”) Parnell has been an intermittent, border-line presence during the last page. “Tearly belaboured” is, possibly, an overtone of “dearly beloved,” plus tears – by FW both men had long been dead, and, in some quarters, mourned. “Also, “S.H.:” Shem, his name just now detectable in “my shemblable!” (.28), following the sounding of Japhet and Ham, has previously shown up in the guise of “Dave the Dancekerl” (462.17). 489.35: “nonday diary:” night (diurnal) day 489.35: “allnights newseryreel:” some movie theatres of the time specialized in “all-night newsreels:” a series of newsreels shown around the clock. They were sometimes frequented by people looking for a place to sleep. 489.36-490.1: “in this wireless age any owl rooster can peck up bostoons:” radios of the time had very wide ranges: especially at night, one could quite conceivably hear both Boston and Tass from Moscow (.9). Joyce enjoyed listening to American comedians – the “bostoons” – here, presumably being broadcast or re-broadcast from Boston. 489.36: “owl rooster:” time-wise bird-wise, opposites: the owl hoots at night, the rooster crows at dawn 489.36-490.1: “can peck up bostoons:” recalls yet another bird, Biddy, who pecked up the letter sent from Boston. 490.1: “whoewaxed:” shoe wax. See 488.22-3. 490.3: “Way way:” response to “whoewaxed” 490.4-5: “reading alawd, with two ecolites:” Archbishop Laud? A high-church Anglican cleric performing a service is in effect reading Laud, and ("ecolites") “acolyte” is an Anglican, not Roman Catholic, term for altar boy. 490.6-7: “Madonagh and Chiel, idealist leading a double life!:” another theological conundrum: the Madonna, a flesh-and-blood female pregnant with God, was leading a double life. 490.6: “idealist leading a double life!...as appearant nominally:” “Idealist” philosophy as developed by Kant divides reality into the phenomenal and the noumenal. (See first .8 entry.) Philosophical nominalism, of whichever kind, would be opposed to idealism. 490.6-7: “But who…is the Nolan?:” the 19-year old Joyce presented a talk, “The Day of the Rabblement,” beginning, “No man, said the Nolan…” Nobody knew who he was talking about. 490.7: “for the brilliance of brothers:” for the enlightenment of others. See previous entry. Sounds like a sarcastic comment on Joyce’s pretentiousness. 490.8: “pronuminally:” noumenally. Also, pronoun-ally 490.8: “Gottgab:” he has the gift of gab. 490.9: “I get it. By hearing his thing about a person one begins to place him for a certain in true. You reeker, he:” Joyce on his education by the Jesuits: “I have learnt to arrange things in such a way that they become easy to survey and to judge.” “Eureka!” (McHugh: “You reeker”) means, I have found it! (Oxford editors change "You reeker" to "you reeker!" and it move to a position following “get it,” beginning the next sentence with “By.”) 490.10: “stands pat:” American expression for leaving things as they are 490.11: “I see:” besides a follow-up to Eureka!, Issy, the “direct object in the feminine,” the (“maiden sname” (.11-2)), maiden’s name 490.11-2: “by maiden sname:” response to “Madonagh and Chiel” (.6) 490.12-3: “earnestly…houmonymh:” long shot: Ernest Hemingway? He was a fellow expatriate (.16), full-shouldered (.15), with whiskers (.18). Joyce knew him. See note to .17. 490.13: “between this youhou and that houmonymh:” between this you and that him 490.14: “gabgut:” response to “Gottgab” 490.17: “much about your own medium:” that is, about medium height, like you. (Joyce was 5’ 10”, Hemingway 6 feet.) 490.18: “me nabs:” compare “my nabs” in “Counterparts” – comparable to the slang expression “his nibs,” 490.18-9: “pick the erstwort out of his mouth:” take the (first Erse) words right out of his mouth 490.15: “foulshoulders:” full-shouldered” can apply to either physique or fashion 490.20: “Treble Stauter:” trouble-starter 490.20: “Baggot:” response to “gabgut” (.14) 490.21-2: “bringing home the Christmas:” revisits the version of the park encounter beginning at 62.26. 490.22: “hand to eyes on the peer:” holding one hand flat over the eyes is stage language for looking – peering - into the distance. 490.23: “Noel’s Arch:” the Arch, a Dublin pub (140.01, 508.01) 490.25-6: “Jenny Rediviva!:” Jenny Lind, Diva, held a number of post-retirement concerts. Bloom in “Eumaeus:” “Like actresses, always farewell positively last performance then come up smiling again.” 490.26: “Toot!...Toot toot!:” Toodle-oo! Compare next entry. 490.27: “This the way we. Of a redtettetterday morning:” Children’s song: “This is the way we say goodbye / So early in the morning.” 490.30: “shower sign:” line 28: “your contraman from Tuwarceathay is looking for righting that is not a good sign?” “Tuwarceathay” is (McHugh) Gaelic for rainbow; rainbows come with showers; the rainbow was God’s (good) sign to Noah of the new covenant; at .23 we heard of “Noel’s Arch.” 490.32: “Pegeen:” the “Peg” of “Peg O’My Heart” (.31: McHugh) is short for Pegeen. 490.33: “If she ate your windowsill sill you wouldn’t say sow.” Response to “sow” and “Pegeen” (.32, 33) retrieves story of Pegger Festy and the pig eating a “doorweg” (85.2-86.31, etc). 490.34: “that my asking:” the whole windowsill/doorway-eating-pig complex is still, for your annotator, the single most confounding thing in FW, but it may help a bit to note that the Oxford editors insert “at” before “my” – part of the exchange has been in response to (“at”) his asking. 490.35: “bull, a bosbully:” overtone of bully beef – canned beef. Mentioned in “Oxen of the Sun” 490.35: “bosbully, with a whistle in his tail:” bullroarer, used by Druids 491.1: “Goliath, a bull:” goliath bull: a breed of bull, presumably exceptionally large 491.3: “Simply and samply:” perhaps obvious: response to “Sindy and Sandy” (.1) 491.6: “crispin:” as in St. Crispin’s Day – Agincourt, celebrated in Henry V. See next entry, also .34 and note. 491.6-7: “juts kamps:” just wars 491.7: “offthedocks:” on the dot 491.9: “fat…leans:” as in the “Jack Sprat” nursery rhyme 491.9-12: “We can cop that with our straat that is called corkscrewed. It would be the finest boulevard billy for a mile in every direction, from Lismore to Cape Brendan, Patrick’s, if they took the bint out of the mittle of it:” gist: there’s a biblical street called “Straight” (mentioned elsewhere in FW), but we have this street in Cork which, though to be sure U-shaped, would (“cop”) top it, would be straighter longer – much like a modern boulevard – if someone were only to unbend it. (Sounds like an elaborate Irish bull. Modern boulevards (Baron Haussmann’s set the standard) are typically examples of compass-and-straightedge, geometrically-inclined city planners. Dublin’s Baggot Street (.6), by contrast, bends south, then north.) 491.12-3: “You told of a tryst too, two a tutu:” “Two a Tutu” is a response to “Toot!...Toot toot!” (.19), “tryst” perhaps to “tantrums” (.24) 491.15: “Demaasch:” Damascus 491.15: “Strike us up either end:” the next line will give both ends of the song on pp. 45-47. “Strike us up” as in “Strike up the band!” 491.16: “Van Homper:” Vanhomrigh – probably the father, Bartholomew, who was Lord Mayor of Dublin (see Lord Mayor’s Mansion House (.18)). Swift’s creatures from Gulliver’s Travels will show up at .21-2. 491.17-20: “Marak!...Yarak!:” repetitive sounding of “k”s and flat “a”s reiterates the see-swan “quarks” of 383.1-14, which introduced the four old men conducting the inquisition. See notes to .26 and .27. In keeping, Oxford editors change “drapped” (.18) to “drappad.” 491.23: “sallies:” given context, sally in military sense: a sudden foray 491.26: “O Tara’s thrush:” thrushes – for instance “turdus viskivorus,” a.k.a. the mistlethrush, which is mentioned at least three times in this chapter (384.3, 385.2, and, by its alternate name (for the males only) of “stormcock:” “stormcrested crowcock” (468.30)) – and at .29 we will get “mistlemam.” Native to Ireland (Tara), it is a song bird. I suggest that this is a response to the “Pirce! Perce! Quick! Queck!” of the previous line, in turn a response to “Marak! Marak! Marak!” (.17). Its mating call (available on YouTube) is described as loud and rasping, comparable to the sound of a British football ratchet. See next entry. 491.27: “green Thurdsday:” “Thurd-”/turd: response to “thrush” (.26), genus turdus. (And, again, “mistlemam” at .29.) Also, as McHugh notes, in some countries “Green Thursday” is a name for Maundy Thursday. Also, Thursday is the day of FW’s scandal in the park, which usually or always includes an excremental component – often urination, sometimes defecation. (If, as I’ve been suggesting, FW is set on Monday and Tuesday, March 21 and 22, the previous Thursday would have been St. Patrick’s Day, with its wearing of the green.) 491.30: “Phylliscitations:” Phyllis: a formulaic female name in romantic, especially pastoral, poetry; occurs as such in “Oxen of the Sun.” Here, overlaps with “felicitations” and probably “solicitations:” she is beckoning to (same line) “Mr Hairwigger.” 491.30: "daff:” daft. Oxford editors have “Daff.” 491.30-1: “Mr Hairwigger who has just hadded twinned little curls:” has added two curls to the hair of his wig. Also, two little girls (Issy and her looking-glass double), equal-oppositely two carls/churls, the twins 491.32-3: “prooboor welshtbreton:” usually, in Ireland, a Proboer and a West Briton would be in conflict – the one anti-British, the other pro-British. 491.33: “unbiassed by the embarrassment of disposal:” in bed, perhaps bedridden, he is not especially bothered by the business of chamberpots or bedpans removing his waste. 491.33-4: “the first woking day, by Thunder:” he may have been lazing away in bed, but on the first working day, by God, he got up and got going. “Thunder:” a variation on “Thurdsday” (.27), day of Thor, with his thunder. (McHugh, but not Oxford editors, put “by Thunder” after “Baltic Bygrad” (.35).) 491.34: “stepped into the breach:” from the familiar line “Once more into the breach” from Henry V. Signifies high military valor. See next entry. 491.34-5: “and put on his recriution trousers:” in view of this, “breach,” above, probably includes “breeches.” (A response to .17-8: “Marak” “drapped his draraks” – dropped his drawers. Also, McHugh points out that the Lord Ashbourne being alluded to was normally “noted for wearing kilts, not trousers.”) “Recriution” – recruit - because, in this military context (“allies” and “central power” (.24), “warfare” (.32)), he is a recruit, readying to go off to war. See second entry for .36. 491.35: “Baltic Bygrad:” Belgrade, in the Balkans. The Baltic Brigade was a counter-revolutionary military unit engaged in suppressing the leftist uprisings in 1920 Germany. The “old soggy” (old soldier (.36)), embarrassed by Irish non-combatants, is galloping off to find somewhere to fight. (See McHugh on .35-6. Lord Ashbourne died in 1913. The war in question was (.32) the Boer War, during a time when conscription was not in effect for Great Britain.) 491.36: “old soggy:” old soldier 491.36: “when the bold bhuoys of Iran wouldn’t join up:” with (McHugh) “Iran” as Erin, at least semi-sarcastic: unlike other military-age male citizens of Great Britain, for most of the duration Irishmen were not required to join the armed forces for WW I. There was considerable government pressure to shame them into enlisting. 492.3: “dropped his Bass’s:” see 49.32 and note. 492.3-4: “dropped his Bass’s to P flat:” as McHugh notes, a response to “He drapped [drappad] has draraks” (491.18), dropped his drawers. “P” may go with earlier intimations that the reason was excremental – not (like the Russian general) to defecate but to urinate. (In FW, any occurrence of “P” by itself, in any form, is liable to involve “pee.”) 492.4: “allaughed…baited…gamut:” as McHugh notes, alpha, beta, gamma - with gamma as “gamut” also signifying the whole musical scale, which in this case seems to extend to the imaginary note of P flat (.3). (But see next.) 492.5-7: “Loonacied…faulscrescendied:” the seven notes of the standard musical scale translated into what, as McHugh notes, are the seven days of the week, starting with Monday 492.5: “Madwakemiherculossed:” Hercules went mad. Also, Padua’s “colossal statue” of Hercules, by Bartolomeo Ammonati 492.5-6: “Judascessed:” Judas betrayed Jesus on ("jeudi"), Thursday, the day before Good Friday. 492.7: “faulscrescendied!!!!!!!:” given that this gets the most exclamation marks, I suggest it be read as “full crescendo” as well as (McHugh) “false crescendo.” 492.8: “-Dias domnas!:” response to (.7) “faulscrescendied!:” both mean Sunday 492.9: “henpecked:” hand-picked 492.9: “rusish,” perhaps combination of music and rubbish 492.10: “bars:” musical bars; prison bars 492.10: “My Wolossay’s:” Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington 492.10: “My Wolossay’s wild as the Crasnian Sea!:” what she sang to him 492.10: “Crasnian:” Caspian 492.11: “Grabashag:” Abishag was the young woman put to bed with the dying David so that he could get some heat. 492.13: “Capilla, Rubrilla and Melcamomilla! Dauby, dauby, without dulay!:” recalls Belinda’s sylphs in The Rape of the Lock: “Crispissa,” “Brillante,” etc. Here, “Capilla” for hair; “Rubrilla” for rouge, possibly “Melcamomilla” for face cream containing camomile, which is or was sometimes included as a moisturizer. Compare ALP’s application of makeup in I.8, 206.28-207.20. Here, she orders what Pope calls “the “cosmetic Pow’rs” to daub (compare 207.8: “a dawk of smut to her airy ey”) her face right now. All this is, if not a response, a confirmation of the “above statement” (.14) that she was (.8) “Dolled” (the expression “dolled up” was around since the early 20th century, and ALP is sometimes HCE’s “doll” – e.g. 197.20), daintily got up in delightfully ornamental “dwilights” (.9). 492.13: “Rubrilla:” Ruby-ella: response to “Mother of emeralds” (.11); red to green: FW standard example of afterimage color contrast 492.13: “saxy:” Saxon 492.14: “luters in their back haul:” looters with their haul 492.15: “what reflects:” usage here signals lower classes 492.15: “back haul of Coalcutter:” why, suddenly, the Black Hole of Calcutta? One possible answer: HCE’s original, living out the “Finnegan’s Wake” narrative, is bedbound because hung over; his bedroom, with blinds drawn, is dark to ALP, entering it from a brightly lit area, it is very dark. (Joyce pays attention elsewhere to such optical mechanics - here, to the eyes’ pupils’ lag time in contracting or dilating when adjusting to changes in lighting.) Also, overtones (“haul…Coal”) of coalhole, generally the darkest and dingiest area of a house. A coalcutter is a machine boring coal in (also dark and dingy) coalmines. 492.15-6: “my administrants of slow poisoning:” probably an answer to the above report that she sang “Grabashag, groogy, scoop and I’ll cure ye!” (.11) to him. Much of this eludes me, but she does seem to be bringing him something to “cure” him. References to this dubious medicine (the prescriber, “Hairductor Achmed Borumborad,” is based on a Dublin quack) are scattered throughout the book, for instance at 618.9-12, and will reappear several times in this passage. Possibly pertinent: the common expression “kill or cure;” Bloom’s “Lotus Eaters” ruminations on the subject, “Poisons the only cures;” Molly’s grumpy wish that men “ought to get slow poison the half of them.” For well or ill, whether in reality or imagination, the medicine apparently has aphrodisiac properties: having taken it, he will show her “his propendiculous loadpoker,” and she will think of herself as a snake charmer (494.9-11). 492.17: “mainhirr:” Mein Herr 492.19: “parapotacarry’s:” as chambermaid, Nora, at some points detectable in this passage, was expected to carry chamberpots from guests’ rooms. 492.20: “mudfacepacket:” mud treatment for face; again, compare I.8: “she sampood herself with galawater and fraguant pistania mud” (206.30-1). 492.21-2: “aural surgeon:” Royal Surgeon – although an ("aural") ear doctor would also be right for someone named for an earwig. 492.22: “Hairductor:” Herr Doktor: also, a hair doctor to go along with all the other cosmetic preparations 492.23: “1001 Ombrilla Street:” according to Mink, “The Mahratta princes (but Tippoo Sahib was not a Mahratta) were called ‘lords of the umbrella.’” 492.23: “Syringa:” doctors use syringes. 492.28: “mostfortunes:” misfortunes 492.30-1: “a laxative tendency:” one of several suggestions in FW that the mysterious medicine had laxative properties. See, for example, the next entry. 492.32-3: “being forbidden fruit:” presumably because of its laxative nature 492.34: “aroint:” also anoint. A bunch of priests coming to anoint someone for Last Rites does not signal a favorable prognosis. 493.34: “tummy…maladies:” stomach aches 492.34: “singorgeous:” includes “gorge” – again, problems with digestion 493.2: “sambat:” Sabbath 493.2-3: “Sunday feactures:” “features” in sense of non-news items included in the Sunday paper 493.4-5: “paying me his duty on my annaversary:” the “marriage duty” to have intercourse. The anniversary is probably her – Anna’s - birthday. (According to her birth certificate, Nora(h) Barnacle was born on March 21, 1884.) See next entry. 493.5: “nil ensemble:” if French “tout ensemble,” combining with English “ensemble” (a woman’s dress) means everything she wears, then this signifies wearing nothing. She is, so to speak, in her birthday suit, appropriately (see previous entry) for the occasion. 493.5-6: “lazychair:” easy chair 493.6: “he hidded up my hemifaces:” compare Molly Bloom in “Penelope,” on the subject of Boylan’s advances: “the next time he turned up my clothes on me.” Also, he removed the yashmak covering half her face, so that he is able to (see next entry) look “into” her “mirrymouth” (.7). 493.7: “he locked plum into my mirrymouth:” McHugh and Oxford editors both have “looked” replacing “locked.” 493.8-9: “with the so light’s hope on his ruddycheeks and rawjaws:” Oxford editors have "with the songlight’s hope singling on his ruddycheeks and rawjaws." Whatever else is going on (the sun is singing?) the sunlight is either reddening or lighting the ruddiness of his cheeks and jaws; either way, let’s hope it’s a sign of renewed health. 493.9: “rawjaws:” rajahs – continuing colonial India theme. So does the next entry. 493.9-11: “my charmer, whom I dipped my hand in, he simply showed me his propendiculous loadpoker, Seaserpents hisses sissastones:” snake charmer: another India note. Syntax is uncertain – less so when, as the Oxford editors recommend “whom” is replaced by “when” - but the snake-charmer here may be her hand. See next entry. 493.9: “whom I dipped my hand in:” given obvious sexual context, this recalls Nora on her first date with Joyce: she put her hand down his trousers and masturbated him. 493.11: “his mansway:” “the way of a man with a maid.” (Or – see previous – vice-versa) 493.13: “in his gulughurutty:” compare “Circe”’s version of what a man sounds like when (“-rutty”) in rut: “Godblazegukbrukarchkhrasht!” 493.14-5: “Snooker, bort!:” Snooty Baronet, by Wyndham Lewis 493.14: “Snooker:” a cue stick – plausibly phallic 493.15: “bort:” “Bart” is short for Baronet. 493.18: “amnaes:” omnes. The sense is “Fantasy, fantasy, all fantasy.” 493.19: “nihil nuder under the clothing moon:” response to “nil” (.5) – again, with implication of nudity 493.19: “weewahrwificle:” wee wife. Compare “He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur” (4.28-9), “I popo possess the ripest littlums wifukie” (532.31), “muliercula” (494.9). 493.19-23: “When Ota, weewahrwificle of Torquells, bumpsed her dumpsydiddle down in her woolsark she mode our heuteyleutey girlery of peerlesses to set up in all their bombossities of feudal fiertey, fanned, flounced and frangipanned:” Ota, wearing simply a “woolsark,” a woolen version of Burns’ “cutty sark,” nightshirt, caught the attention of all the “mode,” the fancy court ladies in their feudal finery – making them sit up and take notice. 493.22: “fiertey:” finery 493.22: “fanned:” decorative fans would be part of the fashionable ensemble. 493.24: "cuts his thruth:” expression: he cuts his throat with his own tongue. Also, Odysseus as (McHugh) Outis, Noman, was certainly telling less than the whole truth. Given “clothing moon” (.19), “thruth” probably includes a qualifying overtone of “cloth” – “Outis” is cutting his cloth according to the “massstab” (see McHugh) “measure.” Pure truth, by contrast, equates with nudity: “there is nihil nuder under the clothing moon” (.18-9), a variant of “there is nothing truer under the sun.” 493.26: “Yerds and nudes:” yeses and noes 493.26: “nudes:” response to “nuder” (.19) 493.26: “ayes and noes:” eyes and nose, “Yerds and nudes” again, slightly altered 493.26-7: “Let Eivin bemember for Gates of Gold for their fadeless suns berayed her:” “Eivin:” both Erin and Eve/Even/Evening, time of the sunset, which was sometimes, poetically, called “the gates of gold.” So was dawn, but this is, again, evening, and the idea is that the sun is still “fadeless,” still illuminating (be-raying) the land with its rays, making it glow goldenly. San Francisco’s Golden Gate (an area on the edge of its bay had that name before the bridge was built in 1937: see 71.11 and note) was so named because of its Pacific sunset. (Although on the whole it seems unlikely that Joyce had the bridge in mind, note the “pont” (from Latin for bridge) at .29. Google Books has hits for SF’s “Golden Gate Bridge” from 1930 and 1935, the first recording the proposal to build it and the second describing its ongoing construction.) Here, there is an equal-opposite conjunction with (see McHugh) the Moore poem: this time, because Ireland’s sons have not betrayed her, her sun(sets) still make her a paradise on earth. “Gates of Gold” is a frequent poeticism for the Heaven’s entrance (whose gems will appear at 494.4-5 (see McHugh) on a rainbow arch) – and then there’s (“Eivin”) – Eve’s Heaven. “Bemember” is “remember” plus a contraction for “be remembered,” hence the “for.” Possibly pertinent as well that Jerusalem had a Golden Gate, traditionally believed to be on its the eastern side, through which Christ passed on Palm Sunday 493.28: “Irise, Osirises:” Osiris is male; Iris, named twice, the second time imbedded in “Osirises,” is named twice; Osiris’s wife Isis is perhaps present in “-ises.” (And, of course, “(Irise”) Arise, Irish!: which recalls that one reading of FW’s title is: Finnegans, Wake!) In any case, a gender-bending amalgam. Osiris is male, Iris is female, and .27-34 is a male voice invoking a female response: “Ani…shout!” (.32-3). Iris is goddess of the rainbow, and the female answer (493.34-494.5) will give us a rainbow: “that skew arch of chrome sweet home, floodlit up above the flabberghosted farmament…Talk about iridecencies! Ruby and beryl and chrysolite, jade sapphire, jasper and lazul” (494.25-5) – from sun and sunset (see 493.26-7 and note) to Iris’s iridescently chromatic arch. 493.31: “Nu-men:” not a coincidence that this occurs shortly after (.24) “Outis,” Odysseus as Noman. (Compare 374.22-3.) 493.31: “Fly as the hawk:” given this passage’s heavy concentration of Egyptology (see McHugh), this alludes to Horus, the god with the head of a falcon. 493.31-2: “Fly as the hawk, cry as the corncrake:” the voice is imperative: fly as high (and well) as you can, call out as loudly as you can. Hawks are proverbially the supreme (high) flyers, and “Circe” includes a voice “harsh as a corncrake’s.” 493.32-3: “Ani Latch of the postern is thy name:” 1. Arrah na Pogue, Arrah of the Kiss. In FW’s version of the story, her kiss includes a key that frees the prisoner. (Compare “Latch” as in latchkey, for a (“postern”) door.) 2. A postern can be a wicket: Earwicker. A postern is a door: Porter. “For why do you lack a link of luck to poise a point of perfect, peace?” (.29-30), just asked, is a version of the prankquean’s repeated requests in I.1 that the Jarl tell her why they look so much alike and share the same name of Porter. The dream-censored answer is that they are father and daughter. 493.34: “- My heart, my mother!:” she has just been ordered or invited to “shout!” – in a high-pitched, loud voice. She does. 493.35: “O coolun:” imitates sound of keening, in “Circe” rendered as “Ochone! Ochone!,” elsewhere in FW as “Macool, Macool” (6.13). 494.1: “your strawnummical modesty:” addressing, as astronomical majesty, Nu, the Egyptian father of the gods, at 493.30-1 described as the “overseer of the house of the oversire of the seas” – that is, up, astronomically, in the sky (where (“ragingoos” (493.30)) rainbows appear), looking down on the lord of the sea 494.2: “skew arch:” Wikipedia: “a method of construction that enables an arch bridge to span an obstacle at some angle other than a right angle.” Ireland’s canals – for instance the Grand Canal – have included some. 494.2: “skew arch of chrome sweet home, floodlit:” the rainbow after Noah’s flood. “Chrome” from Greek for “color” 494.3-4: “where the camel got the needle:” having suggested (note to 493.26-7) that Jerusalem’s Golden Gate has just been cited, I will also note here that, since well before FW, commentators were arguing that Jesus’s upsetting words about rich men, camels, and needle’s eyes really referred to another Jerusalem gate, this one exceptionally narrow. See second note to 551.33-4. 494.4-5: “Talk about iridecencies!” Oxford editors have “iridescendies.” besides the rainbow’s iridescence, indecencies: the rainbow is also an “arch” (.2). Latin for arch is fornix; Roman prostitutes typically stationed themselves under arches; hence “fornicate.” The seven colors of this rainbow (.4-5) are also painted ladies, floozies at best, each named for a jewel. 494.6-7: “Orca Bellona! Heavencry at earthcall, etnat athos? Extinct your vulcanology for the lava of Moltens!:” ordering her to speak out, the inquisitor has gotten more than he bargained for. You have erupted like a volcano! Please shut up! Too late: her next outburst (.27-495.33) will go on for an impassioned 43 lines, and despite efforts to suppress it, will return, frantically, at page 500 (to me, FW’s emotional high point). The convention in play is that of the Wife of Bath’s Prologue: once a woman starts talking, there’s no shutting her up. 494.8: “in erupting:” “interrupting,” interrupted 494.9-14: ”Ophiuchus…Waste:” 1. Earlier, in II.3, we had a weather report. This is a sky report, from out of Yawn’s repertoire of buried selves. (Or from or with the pub radio. Although it’s too late for local broadcasts, we will definitely be hearing from foreign stations in about five pages.) 2. It also includes a recognizable survey of FW’s family, in its fundamentals (wife “occluded” (.9-10) by big dad, children witnessing and reacting, boys angry and girl(s) weeping) as, I propose, a version of FW’s primal scene. (Compare, especially, the exposé of page 559. The next segment, .15-21, essentially describes a sexually aroused man pursuing and eventually ravishing a more or less willing woman.) 3. Also, a memory of the park scandal. Saturn (“Satarn’s”) is the father as old man, the two “pisciolinnies” are the two (“bonnies”) bonny girls, “Ers, Mores and Merkery” are the three soldiers (here, as (“surgents”) sergeants), “Zenith Part” is Phoenix Park, “Arctura, Anatolia, Hesper, and Mesembria” are the four old men from (see McHugh) the four points of the compass; as in II.4, here as there as epicene “heladies” (386.14), they are surveying the scandalous doings from above. The snake in the garden (“Ophiuchus,” “serpent”) is definitely part of the scene. 494.10: “serpent ring:” ornamental ring designed to resemble a snake 494.10: “pisciolinnies:” Pisces, a constellation 494.10-11: “Nova Ardonis:” New Adonis – New Man: response to “Nu-Men” (493.33). Ideal for both Nazis and Soviets, here perhaps given a Hollywoodian twist 494.11: “Parthenopea:” Parthenope was a siren desired by a centaur named Vesuvius. Jupiter turned him into a volcano, and he sometimes erupts in frustration. 494.11: “bonnies:” bonus 494.12: “Ers, Mores and Merkery are surgents below the rim:” if Earth, Mars, and Mercury, in one region of the sky, are just below the horizon (surging upward towards visibility?), and Saturn is visible and blocking out a constellation (.9-10), we must be on Jupiter. (Yes, I’m probably taking this too literally. Still, I will point out that the horizon is “thorizon” (.9), including Thor, the Nordic Jupiter, and compare first note to .11.) In any case, all this star-gazing comes from having the attention drawn toward the rainbow in the sky. 494.14: “weep in their mansions:” draws on expression “mansions of the blest” (habitations of angels) and Milton’s “tears such as angels weep.” The four deities listed here all have female names and are weeping over human folly and suffering below. 494.14: “Noth, Haste, Soot and Waste:” haste makes waste. “Soot” as residue of destruction, for instance from a volcano. “Noth” may be short for “Nothing;” Bonheim lists it as German not, meaning need or emergency. 494.15-26: “Apep…Magraw!:” Innuendoes of phallic sexuality dominate this passage, perhaps prompted by the preceding snake language (.9-10); see next entry. 494.15: “Apep and Uachet!:” “Holy Snakes:” As McHugh notes, the names of two Egyptian snake divinities, one a god and the other a goddess. Again, this is a response to “serpent ring” (.10) – and, probably, to “Ophiuchus.” 494.15: “Chase me charley:” occurs in “Circe.” Gifford calls it a “common music-hall expression of female high spirits.” 494.15-6: “Eva’s got barley under her fluencies:” “barley:” beurla, English. She’s fluent in it, perhaps with the sense that it was not her original language. Also, the man, with his “strombolo,” is very much interested in what she’s got under the flounces of her skirt. (Compare 221.11: the manservant “under the inflounce of the milldieuw and butt” of Kate.) 494.16-7: “The Ural Mount he’s on the move:” faith can move mountains. So, apparently, can lust. 494.16: “Ural Mount:” origin of Russian General: 344.26, 353.24 494.17: “strombolo:” as Stromboli, a response to “volcanology for the lava of Moltens!” (.17). Also: as, obviously, his erection, comparing ejaculation with eruption 494.18: “as broad above as he is below:” expression: as broad as it’s long. In “Hades,” it reminds Bloom of Boylan’s penis. 494.19-20: “before the Emfang de Maurya’s class:” see McHugh. He’s crept up to get a view of young Catholic girls in class. Yet another sign that FW’s main male has a problem with underage females. See entries for .20 and .22; also next entry. 494.20: “Shotshrift:” short shift, as worn by girl students 494.21-2: “Obeisance so their sitinins is the follicity of this Orp!:” what the girls are being taught in class - Dublin’s motto, which does indeed tell them to obey municipal (or, come to that, any other) authority. (No wonder Joyce loathed it.) Oxford editors replace “sitinins” with “sitinims.” 494.23: “fat of the land:” back of the hand 494.23-4: “The treadmill pebbledropper haha halfahead overground:” ALP as River Liffey. Pebbles are “brookpebbles” (72.33), her “necklace of clicking cobbles and pattering pebbles and rumbledown rubble” (205.5-6). 494.24: “haha halfahead overground:” “half a league onwards,” from “The Charge of the Light Brigade” 494.24-5: “Up the slanger!:” “slanger:” snake (McHugh), schlong. In other words, a pep talk addressed to his own male member: Get it up, oh my (.23) “dick.” (Compare 494.23, with McHugh note.) Also – compare the “libels” of .32 – slander. 494.26: “Three cheers and a heva heva for the name Dan Magraw:” compare 584.5-6. McGrath, often associated with (.23) snakes, may be, as Glasheen says ALP’s “special hate,” but at times he also seems, in her imagination, to be her demon lover – perhaps a former lover, sailor not tailor, from before she settled down. As in “Proteus,” Eve is “Heva,” here doubled into a Hear! Hear! cheer for “Magraw.” Brendan O Hehir traces the name to Gaelic mo grádh, my love. (As for McGraw’s/McGrath’s snakiness: in “Circe,” Bloom reflects that women, as “the cloven sex,” ought to fear all animals (e.g. mice) that might creep up into them, but that the story of “Eve and the serpent contradicts.” Not an original observation.) See next entry. 494.27-495.33: “-The giant sun…Ann.:” again, the speaker here is clearly ALP, coming in as a response to (.26) “a heva heva for the name Dan Magraw!” Also again, “Heva” is Eve, and McGrath (a.k.a. “Magraw,” etc) is her perpetual love/hate obsession, bound to get a rise out of her. 494.28: “white dwarfees…seventh:” apparently an allusion to the seven dwarfs of the Snow White story, in circulation well before the Disney movie. 494.28: “surabanded:” they surround him, moving in a slow dance. Also, a sura: one of the chapters of the Koran. Spanish saraband was/is believed to have Muslim origins. 494.28-9: “And do you think I might have being his seventh:” a chance of being his seventh wife – the seventh wife of an old, rich man, therefore likeliest to inherit his fortune. Certainly pertinent that Bluebeard’s last wife was traditionally his seventh. She found him out, with results fatal for him but not her. Also, possibly a side allusion to the Pleiades, who as a cluster of discernible but not especially conspicuous stars might count as “white dwarfees” (.28). (Astronomically speaking, they aren’t.) The tradition is that there are seven of them but that the last one is elusive: most of the time you can see only six. 494.29: “He will kitssle me on melbaw:” when a girl, some time in the early 1930’s, my mother was told that if she could kiss her elbow she would turn into a boy – apparently a widespread belief among the children of the time. Given Bluebeard context, echo of “kill” in “kitssle” is pertinent. 494.30: “What about his age? Says you? What about it? says I?:” as a rich man’s seventh wife, she is presumably considerably younger. Challenged on that the subject, she tells her questioner to mind his own business. Compare 31-2 and note. 494.30: “I. I:” two I’s or i's are invariably an Issy signature – here because in comparison to her aged husband ALP is a young girl. 494.30-1: “I will confess to his sins and blush me further:” the father confessor will be the one blushing when I confess to my husband’s sins instead of my own. 494.31-2: “I would misdemean to rebuke:” it would be beneath me – I would demean myself – to respond. 494.32: “fleshambles, the canalles:” Fishamble Street; an 1889 document calls it “now one of the poorest streets in Dublin.” The change from “fish” to “flesh” indicates a place where cattle were slaughtered – again, an undesirable area. Close to the Liffey, it is not near any of Dublin’s canals. Given context, an allusion to Marthe Fleischmann, on whom Joyce had a crush, seems more than likely. See next entry. 494.33: “Synamite:” see entry for 492.15-6. Again: Abishag, “the Shunamite” mentioned in “Circe,” was the young woman brought to King David’s bed in his old age so that he could “get some heat.” Joyce apparently believed, incorrectly, that Marthe Fleischmann was Jewish; see next entry. 494.33: “Two overthirties:” born in 1885, Marthe Fleischmann was over thirty when she met Joyce in 1918. The sense is that she/they is/are old enough to know better, and certainly too old to be going around in “shore shorties” (.33-4; see note). Over all, the voice of an indignant wife, part Juno and part Nora, grudgingly resigned to her husband’s occasional susceptibility to floozies (compare .4-5) but much harder on the women themselves: Dynamite is “too good for them!” “Two,” doubling as over-thirty 32 and Roman numeral II, makes for a passable 1132. 494.33-4: “shore shorties:” “shirty” is or was a brief dress or dress-like garment, according to its appearances in Google Books worn by silly youngsters, mainly but not exclusively female. 494.35: “left:” late 495.1-3: “Sully…Parsee:” Percy Bysshe Shelley was certainly a (“wreuter of annoyimgmost letters” (.2)), writer of documents that annoyed the authorities: one got him expelled from Cambridge. ALP’s enemies list often extends to authors of (“skirriless”) scurrilous accusations against HCE. 495.3: “skirriless ballets:” skirl: sound of bagpipes, here either blaring or (skir-less) not blaring the scurrilous ballad (introduced at pages 44-7). Sully, its author, is McGrath’s accomplice, and McGrath is a Scottish name. 495.5: “not fit enough to throw guts down to a bear:” the expression “not fit to carry [“throw” is a variant] guts to a bear” (McHugh) is an insult, the equivalent of “not enough brains to come in out of the rain.” 495.5: “Sylphling:” Sybil; syphilis 495.7: “cut his nose on the stitcher:” a stitcher is a machine used for cutting out patterns in cloth or leather – e.g. shoe soles 495.8-10: “Here to the leglift of my snuff and trout stockangt…and a froren black patata:” confusing for sure, but in “Circe” Zoe Higgins folds Bloom’s black and shriveled potato into the top of her stocking. 495.13: "Lynch, Brothers, Withworkers:" another overtone of cricket's Leg Before Wicket," a frequent FW motif 495.16: “roll myself for holy poly:” Holy Rollers 495.17: “make laugh over him:” OED’s first occurrence of “make love” meaning “have sex” is in 1927. (Not included in the 1929 transition, this was written later.) Here, part of a strange sleeping arrangement: he, her nemesis, can be under her “pallyass” – palliasse, a straw mattress - while she’s sleeping on it. She and “Riley” (.17), presumably a version of yet another nemesis, Persse O’Reilly, will be making love and laughing at him, either on top of him (on that palliasse) or “in the Vickar’s bed” (.17-8). Recalls the scene in “Circe” where Bloom becomes a liveried flunkey observing his own cuckolding. 495.18-20: “Quink! says I. He cawls to me Granny-stream-Auborne when I am hiding under my hair from him and I cool him my Finnyking he’s so joyant a bounder:” in-jokes about the Joyces’ love life. As McHugh notes, “Quink” is a barnacle goose. Joyce celebrated Nora Barnacle’s auburn hair; 139.23-4 commemorates ALP’s “auburnt streams;” Joyce was aware that his name meant joy. 495.19-20: “my Finnyking:” my king of fish. Facetious. Perhaps also kingfisher, notable for its steep and sudden dive into water, hence “Plunk!” (.20) 495.20: “bounder:” a cad, a lowlife lady-killer, here used with affectionate sarcasm 495.20: “Plunk!:” again, the sound of the bounding fish (or bird) hitting the water; also a response to “Quink!” (18). Variant of FW’s p-q doublets 495.22: “forty winkers:” Shakespeare, Sonnet 2: “When forty winters shall besiege thy brow” 495.22: “a handsome sovereign was freely pledged in their pennis in the sluts maschine:” sex-talk aside, probably means that a pound’s (sovereign’s) worth of pennies (240 in all) were fed, one by one, into the slot machine. (See next entry.) “Something handsome” served as a euphemism for a hoped-for tip or gift of money. Given the obvious sexual innuendo, “pledged” may refer to the “marriage debt” or “marriage duty” (see 493.4-5 and note) of sexual availability. Also, according to OED, “slut’s-pennies” are “hard pieces in a loaf due to imperfect kneading of the dough.” 495.23: “cherrywickerkishabrack of maryfruit:” slot machines (see previous entry) were sometimes called “fruit machines,” because of the lemons, pears, etc. on their reels. Cherries were always or almost always included; three in a row would deliver a jackpot. 495.24: “under Shadow La Rose:” sub rosa 495.25: “legintimate lady performers of display unquestionable:” “leg” and “intimate” indicate a “leg show” – an early version of striptease. In the same vein, “display unquestionable:” a display of unmentionables. (It’s tempting to think that “Shadow La Rose” (.24) includes Gypsy Rose Lee, whose career blossomed during the FW years – but probably not.) Not surprisingly, at .27-8 it will be reported that someone saw someone else’s (under)pants. 495.26-8: “that noblesse of leechers at his Saxontannery with motto in Wwalshe’s ffrenchllatin: O’Neill saw Queen Molly’s pants:” Edward III’s sexcentenary would have been either in 1912 (600 years after his birth) or 1927 (600 years after his coronation). Tradition has it that he originated the French-Latin expression “Honi soit qui mal y pense” in or around 1346, in one version of the story as a way of confuting suspicions of lechery, occasioned by the sudden appearance of a garter, not underwear. Regardless, his Wikipedia entry records that “much has been made of Edward’s sexual licentiousness.” 495.29: “complet manly parts:” male genitalia; male counterpart to “Molly’s pants” (.28). Oxford editors have “complete” for “complet.” (As in an “entire,” uncastrated stallion?) 495.30: “five itches above the kneecap:” given context, five inches above the knee is the maximum permissible exposure on stage. (For the exception, see .30-1 and note.) Also, a likely position for a garter: see .26-8 and note. 495.30: “magistrades:” see next two entries. Local cases of challenged staged nudity were sometimes dealt with by magistrates. 495.30-1: “as required by statues. V.I.C. 5.6:” see next entry. Issues of how much bare skin could be permitted on stage were handled by the Lord Chamberlain, acting under the Theatres Act of 1843, which like other statutes was labeled according to the reigning sovereign: “Vict.” May also reflect that stage nudity or semi-nudity was sometimes defended with comparisons to classical statues. (In 1940, London’s Windmill Theatre would be permitted to present total nudity so long as the performers stayed frozen, like statues.) Also: if, as seems likely, “V.I.C. 5.6” refers to “that noblesse of leechers” (.26), the husband of “Your wife” (.34), ALP, it would be one of several hints that, as your annotator believes, his default age is 56. 495.31-2: “If you won’t release me stop to please me up the leg of me:” see note to 124.4-5. This gives approximately the same story: a woman telling a man that if he won’t stop pestering her with his demands he might as well come across with some real action, and suggesting that he begin by moving his hand up her leg, presumably more than (.30) “five inches above the kneecap.” 495.32: “Respect:” short for “Respectfully” sign-off. Also “Respect…Your wife” (.32-3). The latest version of ALP’s letter, first introduced on page 111. Also, equal-oppositely, “Respect yourself:” in “Circe,” a prostitute’s admonition to a too-forward potential client 495.33: “Amn. Anm. Amm. Ann:” Um. Um. Um. Um. Sound of four kisses; corresponds to X’s on letter. Compare Mrs. Breen’s “pigeon kiss” in “Circe:” “Hnhn.” 495.34: “Frui Mria:” according to Christiani, Fru Marie Grubbe, a wealthy Danish woman of the 17th century, and the title of an historical novel by Jens Peter Jacobsen based on her life. She was twice unhappily married, had a number of affairs, and at the age of 46 married a coachman more than twenty years her junior. Christiani reports that in the novel Grubbe’s final match is with a “muscular farmhand,” and says that in the preceding lines of this FW page she has been plying the object of her desire “with food and favors.” 495.36: “your silvanes and your salvines:” response to her complaints about Sullivans – e.g. “Shovellyvans” (.2). 496.1: “Alas for living’s pledjures:” compare “pledged” (495.22). Her lament resembles that of the Wife of Bath: Alas that ever love was sin! Having revealed herself to be a femme moyenne sensuelle, she’s not happy at hearing herself compared to someone like (see entry for .34) Fru Grubbe. 496.2-14: “Lordy Daw…that:” after a sarcastic dismissal of her (feminine) sentiments; the gist: don’t blame Sully/Sullivan, McGrath, etc. - the simple reason that everyone despises your man is that he’s despicable. Accompanied by echoes of Oscar Wilde’s disgrace: theatrical context; “humbugger” (.3); “Bumbty” (.6): bum, Bunberry, also “bumgalowre” (.13); “Sot” (7): sod, short for sodomist/sodomite/”somdomite;” rejection by “minx” and “meid” (.8, .11): Joyce’s essay on Wilde repeats the story that prostitutes danced in the street when he was convicted. 496.7: “Mute art for the Million:” a description of all the graffiti, posters, and handouts attacking HCE 496.8: “minx:” the phrase “minx cat” is a mistaken version of “Manx cat.” Manx cats come from the Isle of Man and are tailless. In “Circe,” the term insinuates impotence or castration. 496.9: “four cantins:” by analogy to Swiss cantons, the four provinces of Ireland 496.11: scurface:” a scurfy face, with skin flaking off. (Also: “Scarface” Al Capone? Joyce at least knew about Chicago’s “Racketeers and bottloggers” (19.19), and we will get “flappergangsted,” 20’s American flapper and gangster, at .15-6.) 496.13: “allgas:” all-gas: term for households with gas throughout. Given “bum” in “bumgalowre,” probably indicates flatulence, something of an HCE signature: see .20, 94.33-94.10. Followed in the next line by “piles” (hemorrhoids) and (“faces”) feces 496.15-6: “flappergangsted:” flapper: stylish young society woman of the 1920’s, sometimes considered to be promiscuous, here aligned with a gang or gangster 496.18: “I have it here to my fingall’s ends:” she has been told to “Recount!” (.17) – probably meaning just to remember and review the story. Response: she (sounds to me as if fading back into the original he) mistakes it as an order to re-count, on her fingers, which, in turn, toes substituting for fingers, leads to the “This little piggy” nursery bit. May draw on old joke about the yokel who, asked to count above ten, has to take off his shoes and socks. 496.18-20: “This liggy piggy wanted to go to the jampot. And this leggy peggy spelt pea. And theese lucky puckers played at pooping tooletom. Da’s ma:” with (see entry for .19) “theese” as “threese,” a thumbnail version of the park scandal of Book I. Two girls peeing in a pot, seen by three peepers; the (“da”) dad is somehow in on the action. 496.18-20: “liggy piggy…leggy peggy…lucky puckers:” “lully priggers” steal clothes from clotheslines. Also, ever since the “jinnies with their legahorns” (8.31), the park temptresses have sometimes lured men with a display of their legs. “Leg shows” were popular entertainments for men, and “leggy Peggy” would have been an attractive woman with long legs. A man who, through marriage or otherwise, was about to have intimate access to a woman was and is sometimes called a “lucky” so-and-so – “Lukky Swayn” (325.35-6), “Stilla Star with her lucky in goingaways” (28.23). 496.19: “And theese:” Oxford editors have “threese,” raising the possibility that the piggies in question include the Three Little Pigs. The story was around long before the 1933 Disney version. 496.19: “spelt pea:” “spell” originally meant “speak.” See entry for 21.18-9 on the Sicilian Vespers, where “ciciri,” Sicilian dialect for “chickpea,” was the life-or-death shibboleth. In the “prankquean” episode of I.1, it is part of the password to the Jarl’s castle. Here, it is apparently a password for access to a toilet, where one can (“pea”) pee or (“pooping”) poop. 496.22: “Pater patruum:” response to “da” (.20), slang for father 496.22-497.3: “- Pater…Declaim!” Speaker is probably Matthew, the bossy one. 496.23: “ariring out of her mirgery margery watersheads:” referring to and perhaps mocking ALP’s “mergey margey magistrades” (495.30). Also echoes occurrences of “waters of” motif of last paragraph of I.8 (215.31-216.5). Gist: enough (female) swampiness; let’s (.23-4) get back “to dadaddy again.” “Ariring,” besides arising, perhaps in sense of airing out – draining the swamp. See next entry. 496.23-5: “to change that subjunct from the traumaturgid for once in a while and darting back to stuff:” again: enough of the (female) theatrics; let’s get back to (masculine) hard facts. Also, no more (subjunctive) wishful what-if thinking; it’s time to get declarative. 496.25-6: “if so be you may identify yourself with the him in you:” Yawn has been, as we would say today, channeling his mother. The interrogators want him to return to the (“him”) masculine, in particular his father. 496.26-7: “bloodfadder and milkmudder:” German “bludbruder:” two men become blood brothers by mixing blood. 496.27: “our too many of her:” “our” is a common British Isles term for someone close, especially a family member. “Too many of her” may be a pejorative version of ALP’s usual last name, “Plurabelle.” 496.28: “in tea:” in the tea business; also, a teetotaler. Also, “T” is Tristram’s FW signature. 496.28-30: “in tea e’er he went on the bier or didn’t he ontime do something seemly heavy in sugar:” in “Cyclops,” the merchant Herzog deals in tea and sugar. As “dadaddy,” HCE has just been identified as a (“merchamtur”) merchant (.26). 496.29: “on the bier:” dead and stretched out on a bier. Also, as in “Cyclops,” “on the beer:” he’s fallen off the water wagon 496.31: “beak” slang for judge or magistrate, paired with “peacies” (.32) – as McHugh notes, P.C.s, police constables. Even as (“Christy Columb” (.30)) Columbus (but see entry) HCE can’t help getting in trouble – the first time as a jailbird, the second as a fugitive. 496.31: “jailbird’s:” Columbus was imprisoned after his third voyage. 496.31: “unbespokables:” both unmentionables and unspeakables. A prisoner’s clothing would of course not be bespoke. 496.32: “Le Caron Crow:” Major Le Caron was a British spy who testified against Parnell in the Times trial. Also, “corbeau” is a French anti-clerical term for a priest (because of black outfit). In “Circe,” Stephen’s term for an imagined priest is “the reverend Carrion Crow.” 496.32-3: “The seeker from the swayed:” the pioneer separating from the (easily swayed) groupthinking mob 496.33: “the beesabouties from the parent swarm:” a parent swarm is a swarm of bees setting out to establish a new colony. Comparison with Columbus (.30) is apparent. 496.34: “Speak to the right!” Keep to the right! In “Circe” Bloom remembers the cycling directive “Keep to the left,” that is on the same side of the road as other traffic. Given context, this may also reflect proverbial Scottish/Northern/Presbyterian stiffnecked rightmindedness, as with the Ulsterman Mr Deasy: “For Ulster will fight. And Ulster will be right.” See next entry. 496.34-5: “Rotacist ca canny! He caun ne’er be bothered but maun e’er be waked:” as at the end of “Oxen of the Sun,” these are Scottishisms (hence the “clan” in “clandestinies” (497.4-5) – one reason for thinking that the speaker is Matthew from Ulster, with its heavy concentration of former Scots. See next entry. 496.36: “quinnigan:” according to Edward MacLysaght’s the surnames of Ireland, Quinn is the most frequently occurring name in county Tyrone, Ulster. Although widespread, the name appears to have predominantly northern, Protestant associations. 497.1: “Quinnigan’s Quake!:” as close as Joyce gets to revealing the true name of Work in Progress. As McHugh notes, it is here followed by an allusion to Our Exagmination Round His Factification for Incamination of Work in Progress, a collection of essays about the book we’re in. 497.1 “Stump!:” compare Zoe to Bloom in “Circe:” “Go on. Make a stump speech out of it.” Yawn will oblige. 497.4: “Arra irrara hirrara man:” stage-Irish dialect: Ah, O God now. Oxford editors have “irraha.” 497.5: “Imbandiment:” abandonment 497.5: “fogabawlers:” Compare “Nausicaa:” “Faugh a Ballagh!” - warning sound given by ocean steamers; here, a foghorn 497.6: “panhibernskers:” paired with ocean voyagers, hikers over all of Ireland. For “pan-“ see next entry. 497.7: “the great god:” an epithet commonly applied to Pan, a nature god, appropriate for (“scalpjaggers” (.6)) scalp-takers and head-hunters. Traditionally, Pan was dethroned at the arrival of Christ. 497.7-8: “a scarlet trainful:” procession of cardinals: one of several places where this sequence is about the election of a new pope: see next, 479.19 and note, second entry for .10. 497.8: “Twoedged Petrard:” Hamlet’s “hoist with his own petard” expresses the same idea as “two-edged sword.” Also, as McHugh notes, “Tu Es Petrus,” part of the inscription around the inside of Saint Peter’s dome – the site for a papal conclave. 497.10: “insiders:” as in “The Coach with the Six Insides” (359.24), passengers riding on the inside of the coach 497.10: “extraomnes:” “Extra Omnes!:” order given in Sistine Chapel prior to election of new pope 497.13: “wallies of Noo Soch Wilds:” Wales is known for its valleys. Also, “wally” is British slang for fool. 497.15: “oppidumic:” “oppidum:” OED: a Celtic “fortified town or stronghold” 497.22: “twelve stone a side:” twelve stone would be 168 pounds – not especially heavy for most grown men, unless this signifies the weight on each of his two “side”s. HCE is usually represented as fat. 497.23-4: “Uisgye ad Inferos!...Usque ad Ebbraios!:” McHugh and Oxford editors have “Uisgue.” To hell with water! – an appropriate toasts for patrons “at and in [attending] the licensed boosiness primises” (.24) 497.24: “licensed boosiness primises:” besides being in the grocery business, the Mullingar House has a license to sell booze. 497.25: “magazine hall:” French magasin, shop. Again, the Mullingar House inn and pub is also a store. See 78.12-3 and note; .32 and note, .29-33. 497.26-7: “his five hundredth and sixtysixth borthday:” your annotator believes that the default age of FW’s main male is 56. Also, as McHugh notes elsewhere, the traditional year of Finn McCool’s death is 283 A.D., perhaps helping to account for its multiples of 566 and 1132. 497.28: “the Grape:” wine. Goes with (“Rinseky Poppakork”) the rinsing and cork-popping of wine (or beer) bottles. 497.28ff.: “Rinseky Poppakork and Piowtor the Grape…:” as the listed offerings of an establishment both serving alcohol and selling general-store items, this begins with bottled wine and goes on to other merchandise. 497.29: “Dunker’s:” given alcohol context (see, e.g., previous entry), probable overtone of “Drinker’s” 497.29-496.2: “boot kings…Tudor keepsakes:” during this stretch and intermittently thereafter, a satirical list of merchants, profiteers, and celebrities officially ennobled – made knights, etc. – because of their money or fame. A subject of contemporary ridicule of, for instance, “beer barons,” the practice was still controversial enough as of 1965, when the Beatles were awarded Orders of the British Empire, for some previous recipients to indignantly return their own O.B.E.’s. 497.30-1: “sultana reiseines:” sultanas are raisins, from dried grapes. 497.31: “almonders:” an almoner is an official distributor of alms. 497.31: “row of jam sahibs:” compare the “battery of jamjars” in “Ithaca.” 497.32: “principeza in her pettedcoat:” amidst this catalogue of department store offerings, a dummy displaying a petticoat 497.32: “the queen of the knight’s clubs:” perhaps Texas Guinan, contemporary “queen of the night clubs,” who ran a popular night club/speakeasy in New York 497.34: “Ham…Maharashers:” following (see McHugh) salami (“salaames” (.33)), ham and rashers of bacon 497.35: “selver geyser:” silver kaiser. Mentioned in “Ithaca,” the “Silver King” is a play (later movie) about a man, betrayed and exiled, who becomes the fabulously wealthy American “Silver King” and returns to exonerate himself. Also, a “geyser” at the time was a common household device for heating water, here “polished up” for display in the store. See also first note to .36. 497.35-6: “tintanambulating to himself:” probably tinnitus; see 74.11 and note, 180.28 and note. 497.35: “protemptible:” pro tem 497.36: “silfrich:” self-righteous. Compare 137.34. Also (see first note to .35) silver-rich, perhaps self-rich (though the latter certainly did not apply to (“German” (.35)) Kaiser Wilhelm). 497.36: “J. B. Dunlop:” I don’t know when it started, but at some point in movies of the first half of the 20th century “J.B.” had come to automatically signify the boss of a company. (This was why Archibald MacLeish’s 1958 play about a modern-day Job was entitled J.B.) As head of the rubber tire firm, a Dunlop sometimes features in FW as its resident magnate. (Be it noted that the Dunlop in question, John Boyd Dunlop, really was a J. B.) 498.1: “of ourish times:” of our (Irish) times 498.1: “swanks of French wine Stuarts:” the Stuart pretenders often made France their home base. Also, “swanks of” as (inspired) collective noun for wine stewards, like “pride of lions” and “exaltation of larks.” 498.2: “Tudor keepsakes:” given context, probably “keep“ as in castle keep 498.3-4: “Legerleger riding lapsaddlelonglegs up the oakses staircase:” horse-riding onomatopoeia: compare “Wandering Rocks:” “outsiders leaping, leaping in their, in their saddles.” Also, the Saint Leger, an annual race in Doncaster, England, mentioned in “Circe.” Also, there are several accounts, real or legendary, of dashing horsemen galloping up the staircase. (That it should be sidesaddle and “muleback” (.3, .4) certainly detracts some from the romance.) 498.4-5: “Isteroprotos, hindquarters to the fore:” as McHugh notes, hysteron proteron, rhetorical device of putting the latter term first. Horse-wise, “hindquarters to the fore” corresponds. 498.5-6: “handygrabbed on to his trulley:” trolley passengers held on with handgrips. Compare 183.32, 535.13. 498.6: “trulley natural anthem: Horsibus, keep your tailyup:” there were horse-drawn trolleys before the electrified kind. For the driver of such a trolley, this anthem would come naturally. 498.7: “fhroneroom:” German Fröner, serf. Combined with overtone of “throne,” coinciding contraries 498.7-8: “Oldloafs Buttery:” Old Bailey. Also (a loaf of) bread and butter 498.8-9: “Orange and Betters:” Oxford editors and McHugh have “Bitters.” Orange and bitters, a cocktail 498.10-1: “Antepummelites P.P.:” Joyce considered (parish) priests, p. p.’s, to have been Parnell’s enemies – that is, anti-Parnellites. 498.12: “Ensigning:” Ensign 498.13: “gemmynosed sanctsons:” compare “jameymock farceson” (James MacPherson) of 423.1. Also, Jimmy Joyce, perhaps including the star at the end of his nose included, by Joyce’s request, in his portrait by César Abin. 498.14: “epheud and ordilawn:” matched with ephod (McHugh: “Jewish priestly garment”) – bishop’s sleeves are traditionally made of lawn. So: ceremonial clothing for the two “gemmynosed sanctsons” (.13), rabbi and priest. Also, as Glasheen notes, Lords Iveagh and Ardilaun, sons of Sir Arthur Guinness, probably as Glasheen suggests, doubling as Noah’s sons, with the Guinness magnate as “Noah Beery” (64.33). 498.16: “boom companions:” fair-weather friends. “Boom:” time of prosperity 498.19: “sopped down by:” counterpart to “washed down by:” solid food (bread) to go with drink 498.20: “kned her dough:” kneaded dough for bread at Kennedy’s bakery 498.22: “herobit of him:” every bit of him 498.23-4: “Dodderick Ogonoch Wrack:” (doddering) Daniel O’Connell, a wreck. The salutations of 499.4-13 – he is dead, dying, murdered, reduced to excrement – will confirm. 498.27-8: “in the foregiftness of his sons:” Apostle’s Creed: “the forgiveness of sins.” Also, end of “Ecce Puer:” “O, Father forsaken, forgive your son.” Also, God forgiving humanity by request of his son: “Father, forgive them.” Also, expression: “in the gift of” (for instance) the squire: something the squire has the power to bestow, for instance an ecclesiastical office 498.29: “ludmers chain:” in some versions, London was originally “Lud’s Town.” Here is its Lord Mayor, with his chain. 498.31-2: “the spectrem of his prisent mocking the candiedights of his dadtid:” “candidus” is from Latin for white. A variation on FW’s foundational trope, that the rainbow’s spectrum is a fracturing of sunlight’s white. As McHugh notes, includes a paradoxical combination of nighttime’s candle-lights with (“dadtid”) daytime. Also, with “spectrem” as “spectre,” perhaps a jaded assessment of what the hopes of youthful candidacy have come to. The “candiedights” are the “dozen and one tilly tallows round in ringcampf” (.24-5). 498.32: “dadtid:” dated. Time past, paired with (“prisent”) present 498.34-5: “with his buttend up, expositoed:” his butt-end is both exposed and (buttoned up) not. See next entry. 498.35-6: “bulgy and blowrious, bunged:” his arse. Compare the flatulent Bella Cohen in “Circe:” “This bung’s about to burst,” “also “bung goes the enemay (352.10) – enema. For “bulgy,” compare ALP’s “bulgic…barge” (204.9). 499.1: “rouseruction of his bogey:” Zurich’s Böögg (various spellings), burned every spring – therefore, it would follow, resurrected every year 499.2: “turned up:” as in turned-up collar; goes with “buttend up” of 498.35 499.4: “gaff for:” gaffer: old man. Occurs in “Circe” 499.5: “tripping a trepas:” three-foot or three-step. A number of dances, including the waltz, have been called “three-step.” “Tripping” comes from Milton’s “tripping the light fantastic,” popularly used in society-page accounts of dances. 499.5: “neniatwantyng:” McHugh glosses as twenty-nine – thus an allusion to FW’s leap-year girls. Where to draw the lines may be arguable, but after this there follows a series of epithets, each one, two, or three words in length, each punctuated with an exclamation mark. Starting with “Mulo Mulelo!,” immediately following “neniatwantyng,” and ending with “Mamor!,” they number twenty-nine. 499.6: “deady O!:” Daddy-O, a slangy American form of address, dates from the early twentieth century. Will be followed with other recognizable versions of Father and Mother 499.7: “Muerther:” murder, mother 499.8-9: “Thou Thaunaton!” perhaps “Thou Jonathan,” with an overtone of Greek Thanatos, death. David laments Jonathan’s death; the usual version of his words is “O Jonathan!.” Would go with next words, “Umartir!” – that is (as McHugh notes) “You martyr!” 499.10-11: “See ah See!:” C-A-C!” – Shit! 499.11: “Hamovs! Hemoves!” the first (see McHugh): Death! The second: “He moves!” Either coinciding contraries or simple contradiction. Given sounding of (“Funnycoon’s Wick” (.13)), may be moment when Finnegan “rises.” 499.11-2: “donal aye in dolmeny:” Glasheen lists this as a possible reference to Dan Donnelly, a champion Irish prizefighter of the early 19th century. See note to .22. 499.13-4: “But…keying!:” Yawn speaking 499.13: “ – But there’s leps of flam in Funnycoon’s Wick:” the candle’s wick still sends up leaps of flame. (In Portrait, chapter two, Stephen remembers a fire as “leaping and dancing.”) Perhaps what Stephen in “Proteus” remembers the “ghostcandled” room of his dead mother; its purpose was to keep ghosts away. A funny coon would be a comedian in a blackface minstrel show, or more generally, as in “Hades,” any worthless person. 499.14-5: “The keyn has passed. Lung lift the keying!:” Arrah na Pogue passing of Arrah’s key to prisoner; as noted before, Joyce changes the story, perhaps by combining Arrah’s written message with the key Houdini’s wife was suspected of sometimes passing to her husband with a kiss. Also, a new pope assuming power of the key(s). Also, lung-powered keening for the dead. Also, “key” as verb means to lock or unlock. (I’m not sure what, but in the next few pages something will definitely get loose.) 499.15: “God save you king!:” Response to “keying!” (.14). Also, “God Save the King” chorus that was left unfinished at 498.36-499.1 499.16-8: “God…Fudd?:” Yawn speaking 499.16-7: “I had four in the morning and a couple of the lunch and three later on:” drinks, that is. Would explain 515.26: “I was drunk all last life.” Compare next entry. 499.18: “do ye Finnk. Fime. Fudd?:” Do you think I’m fuddled? “Fuddled” occurs in “Oxen of the Sun;” Eric Partridge defines is as “stupidly tipsy.” 499.20: “coddlin your supernumerary leg:” compare “middle leg” in “Circe.” “Third leg” is a common term for the penis, especially an unusually large one. To coddle it would perhaps be to stroke it, in masturbation. “Coddlin,” as codpiece, fits the pattern. 499.21-2: “like a muck in a market:” Brewer:” “driving pigs to market. Said of one who is snoring, because the grunt of a pig resembles the snore of a sleeper.” The context confirms: Yawn is “like a sleepingtop” (.25) setting up “zounds of sounds” (.27), and continues to make snore-like repetitive noises, for instance “Whoishe whoishe whoishe whoishe” (.35-6) and “Zinzin. Zinzin” (500.5, etc.). 499.22: “Sorley Boy:” as McHugh notes, an allusion to Sorley Boy MacDonnell, Scots-Irish clan leader who successfully resisted English policy under Elizabeth I. Probably a response to “donal aye in dolmeny” (.11-2) – see note. Also, in same auditory territory as Daniel O’Connell (498.23) and Dan Donnelly (.11-2). 499.22: “repeating yurself:” as he certainly was for the length of .4-13 499.23: “altknoll:” compare “the knoll Asnoch” (476.06). Mink identifies as the Hill of Uisneach, traditionally “regarded as the geographical cen[ter] of Ire[land],” and adds: “Called Umbilicus Hiberniae by Giraldus Cambrensis…In anc[ient] times, the Hill of U[isneach] was the site of the May Day Bealtaine Festival, a fire ceremony.” (For the fires, see 501.21-7.) 499.25: “sleepingtop:” sleeping top:” a spinning top in which the vertical axis is perpendicular to the surface, and the top is not traveling in any direction. The term occurs in accounts of children’s games of the time. 499.28: “Oliver!:” response to “ollaves” (.25). Echo of both Roland’s companion Oliver and Roland’s horn, Oliphant. 499.28-9: “Was that a groan or did I hear the Dingle bagpipes:” whether or not bagpipes were being heard at 495.3 (see note), they are, here: bagpipes being squeezed do in fact, at the start, sound like some kind of groan. Presumably they come from the (onomatopoetic) “zounds of sounds” Yawn just promised (or threatened). “Zounds” is a contraction of “His [Christ’s] wounds;” Matthew will reply (see McHugh) with a quotation from Christ on the night before his crucifixion (.30), to be followed by a catalogue of bleeding heart, low-laid head, open hand, and wounded foot (.30-1), then, as in “I thirst,” a cry for “Usque!” – water. (Also Finnegan’s whiskey.) So: Yawn is becoming Jesus. (“Usque” is also, probably, a response to “altknoll”/Asnoch /Uisneach (see .23 and note); “Bleating Hart” is both the (still) beating heart and the popular image of Jesus displaying his Sacred Heart.) 499.29: “Wasting war and? Watch!:” Watch and Ward 499.31: “Lowlaid Herd! Aubain Hand!:” head laid low, open hand. In “Ivy Day in the Committee Room,” Joseph Hynes’ poem says that Parnell’s enemies “laid him low.” Parnell will be a conspicuous presence in the next two pages. 499.34: “mound:” again, Asnoch/Uisneach. See .23 and note. 499.34: “tell us:” Tellus, the earth. This begins the passage where they are receiving signals, chiefly radio signals, from all around the world. As remarked before, this was at least notionally possible at the time. The speaker has just asked (.33-4) whether the confusion of voices coming in, amid static, are experiencing interference from thunder and lightning, or is it just to the planet’s regular “moving mound” (.34) moving around – precession, natation, syzygy. 499.35: “Whoishe whoishe whoishe woishe:” response to “Usque! Usque! Usque!” (.31-2). Also, Shakespeare’s “Who is Sylvia, what is she?” 499.35: “linking in:” response to “Lignum in…” (.32). “Linking” (but not, apparently, “linking in”) is and was a short-wave radio term for making a connection. Pages 500-1: Oxford editors: “500.5, 6, 7, 9, 13, 17, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 501.1, 3: no dialogue dashes, no indents.” Would make for a dramatic difference in how this sequence (500.5-501.5) comes across. 500.1: “manalive:” monolith 500.2: “thimbles and bodkins:” the Thimble and Bodkin Army of the English Civil War was so named because of contributions from women, who gave their thimbles and bodkins to the parliamentary cause. (The term, coined by the royalists, was intended to be dismissive.) I suggest that this is a response to Yawn’s “ollaves” (499.26): the army’s commander was Oliver Cromwell, a name feared and detested in Ireland, which shows up at .6, followed by sounds of slaughter and agony. Also, overtone of Thomas á Becket 500.3: “Whu’s within?:” “Who’s within?” occurs frequently in Shakespeare’s plays, usually asking who is inside a house. Perhaps another response to or continuation of “Whoishe” (499.35) 500.6: “Crum:” O Hehir glosses this as “Krum,” name of an ancient idol overthrown by Saint Patrick. 500.10: “O, widows and orphans, it’s the yeomen!:” “Yeomen” in Irish history are primarily remembered as the Castle volunteers who helped suppress the uprising of 1798. Tradition has it that they were exceptionally ruthless and that their victims included women and children. From the other side, of course, this cry would have been an expression of relief – the yeomen to the rescue! 500.12: “roedeer…white hind:” follow-through on .10-11’s summoning of War of (red vs. white) Roses 500.12-3: “slots, linklink:” “Lotus Eaters:” “two sluts that night in the Coombe, linked together.” Compare 442.25. 500.13: “the hound hunthorning:” from “The Ballad of Chevy Chase:” “to drive the deer with hound and horn” 500.13: “linklink…Title! Title!:” perhaps with admixture of “Zinzin” (.4, .9), “linklink” continues “Lignum in”/”linking in” (499.32, 35) strain. As i. i. – T. T. exchange, this represents yet another signal from Issy/Iseult to Tristan/Tristram. Also asking for the real title of this book, at the time called Work in Progress, sounded at 497.3 as “warping process.” At 501.2, the request will be to “Tell your title?” (Joyce played this guessing game throughout most of the book’s composition.) The first answers given (.14-6) are versions of the names of popular newspapers. The most frequent, and probably closest to the mark, is some version of “Iseult.” That the session is abruptly shut down at 501.6 may be because the answers were getting too close. (“Funnycoon’s Wick” (499.13) was the nearest approximation of the book ‘s title until the almost-perfect “Finnegan’s Wake” of 607.16.) 500.14-6: “Christ in our irish times! Christ on the airs independence! Christ hold the freedman’s chareman! Christ light the dully expressed:” see McHugh. Although The Freeman’s Journal supported Parnell until the Kitty O’Shea scandal, in Joyce’s time all four of these newspapers were Unionist. The mayhem in this sequence is general, but most of it seems to come from those in power. 500.14: “on the airs:” an ongoing radio broadcast was “on the air,” a term which showed up in introduction to programs; for instance the Duke Ellington radio show began with the words, “The Duke is on the air!” 500.17: “sluaghter:” Gaelic sluagh can mean either “people” or “army.” According to at least one version, sluaghter is Gaelic for “field of battle.” 500.17: “Rape the daughter!:” soldiers raping daughters before the eyes of their parents is a recurring fact of war at its most vicious, and civil wars are, reputedly, exceptionally vicious. 500.17-8: “Choke the pope!:” something one might hear from a Cromwellian soldier 500.19: “Cloudy father!:” as a variant of “heavenly father,” a reaction to “pope” (.18) 500.21-2: “Sold!...sold!:” throughout most of history, soldiers and citizens of a defeated cause, when not slaughtered, have often been sold into slavery. 500.21: “Sold!:” completes “Y?” of 477.31: Ysold 500.24: “Fort! Fort! Bayroyt! March!:” The Bayreuth Wagner Festival became an official Nazi event in 1933; before then it had been a center of Nazi gatherings, which would invariably have included marches. As McHugh notes, “Bereit, marsch!” is a German military command: “Ready, march!” Since the company here is listening to a radio capable of receiving far-flung signals from “forain counties” (.35-6) and countries, this may be the sound of a broadcast (or, more likely, re-broadcast) from a rally in Bayreuth. Given context, it seems pertinent that fort is German for “lost.” 500.25: “I’m true.” “I’m through:” an expression commonly used to tell the telephone operator that you have gotten through to the other party; hence “Hello!” of .36. (As of 1962, Sylvia Plath, born in 1932, still remembered it and used it for the end of “Daddy.”) Also, under extreme duress, he’s promising that he’s true to Ysold/Isolde, his love. 500.27: “Brinabride,” as sailor’s girl, Ysold/Issy is several times (e.g. 399.3) presented as a bride of the brine. Also, perhaps, Linabrides, a sometimes idealized type of mistress. 500.30: “Brinabride, my price!:” bride price: money paid by groom or his family for the bride 500.33: “Mother of my tears!:” Mater Dolorosa, Our Lady of Sorrows. As McHugh notes, the following words echo those of the crucified Jesus to Mary. 500.35-6: “forain counties:” foreign counties: a legal term for jurisdictions other than the present one: applicable, for instance, to questions of trial venue. 501.2: “Tell your title?:” operator asking for identification. Since this follows the last (.1) of a string of “Zinzin”s, it seems a good bet that the sound has been of a telephone’s ring, now ended as the receiver or handset is taken off the hook to answer the call. Also, again - guessing the title of Work in Progress 501.4: “Am I thru’ Iss? Miss? True?:” 1. “Thru’ iss:” as in “Tristan.” “Miss” would be an address to the telephone operator, always a woman, asking whether you have gotten through to the person at the other end of the phone call. Oxford editors have “True?” as a separate paragraph. 2. The critical moment in seances was when the “control,” the voice from the dead, came “through,” taking over the voice of the medium, usually female. Questions like “Am I through?” or “Are you through?” were sometimes part of the act. FW often entertains the widespread belief of the time that modern electronic communications – telegraph, radio, and, here, telephone – could enable paranormal connections. Guglielmo Marconi believed that his invention of radio could transmit voices from the dead, and the radio broadcasts of II.3 sometimes seem to confirm. 501.6: “SILENCE:” the operator has made the connection, temporarily silencing the speaker before (with “Hello” (.8)) he can ascertain that he has gotten through. Also, see next entry. During scene changes, there is no dialogue. 501.6: “Act drop. Stand by! Blinders! Curtain up. Juice, please! Foots!:” see McHugh. This line constitutes the “justajiff siesta” (.10), the brief – in a jiffy – break while the curtain is down and the scenery is being changed. 501.8: “Cigar shank and Wheat:” “Segur cinquante huite:” like “Gobelins quarante quinze” (.9). Early speculations that these phone numbers might have been Joyce’s and/or belonging to someone in his Paris circle were apparently wrong. Still, the venue has been temporarily shifted from Ireland, where FW is set, to Paris, where it was written. The two parties at either end of the telephone line are confirming that the operator made the right connection. 501.11-2: “by our soundings in the swish channels:” possibly a play on old jokes about the Swiss Navy, the point being that landlocked Switzerland doesn’t have one, nor any channels or other bodies of water of a depth comparable to “Challenger’s Deep” (.11). 501.12: “soundings:” most obviously, determining the depth of the water; also, the quality of sound coming through as (back to the radio), turning the dial, he tries to get on the right wavelength. Modern communications technologies, telephone and radio, are being conflated, possibly (see next entry) along with the very latest, television. 501.12: “swish channels:” switch channels? OED says that originally the term applied to both radio and television. 501.12-3: “A truce to demobbed swarwords:” again (compare 478.25), “A truce to” means “Let’s put an end to.” Although not swearwords in the common sense of blasphemous or obscene, the language leading up to this (499.30-501.5) was full of oaths and imprecations (“Rape the daughter! Choke the pope!” (500.17-8)) of the kind one might expect from soldiers during conflict. To be “demobbed” is to be mustered out of the army. Soldiers and sailors were of course notorious for their bad language. General sense: now that you’re a civilian, watch your mouth. Also, see next entry: the order is to “clear” the line of all aural interference, presumably including “swar-” (svar, answer) words. 501.13: “Clear the line, priority call!:” a direction to anyone on a “party line,” as most telephones were at the time. As best I can determine, a “priority call” would have been for emergencies only and would have meant that any activity likely to cause interference should cease. All Googleable examples involve the military or police. I cannot make out the mechanics and procedure involved, but both seem to have changed over the years, and to have little in common with the telephone service offered today by that name. 501.14: “Sybil Head this end! Better that way? Follow the baby spot:” exchange between ship and shore. Sybil Head is a promontory in Dingle, mentioned (499.29) before the noisy interlude now being dismissed. (Dingle also appeared at 399.3-4: “O, come all ye sweet nymphs of Dingle beach to cheer Brinabride queen from Sybil surfriding.”) In Joyce’s time Sybil Head had an observation tower on the coast which was visible from sea and featured in navigational directions. Here, Joyce seems to present it as having a two-way radio (or radio-telephone) for guiding navigators, perhaps also a searchlight able to throw a lighted “spot” on the water for sailors to follow. (Neither in fact was a feature of Sybil Head.) 501.15: “We are again in the magnetic field:” applicable in four ways: 1. Hypnotism (476.7-8), sometimes called animal magnetism, was, according to its theorists, a kind of magnetic influence; 2. & 3. Both radio and telephone involved electro-magnetism; both were subject to magnetic influence; 4. The sailor’s compass is magnetized. 501.17: “Moisten your lips for a lightning strike:” Compare 28.11-2: “Her lips would moisten once again” if the man would speak to her in a winning way. In both cases – the earlier one is two lines away from a pun on “pussy” – a sexual dimension is present: “lips” both as lips about to be kissed (compare 104.4-5) and as labia, moistening. (Also, compare 106.4-5.) Also, wetness increases the chance that lightning will strike – an analogous way (see .15 and note) of making a connection between one point and another 501.18: “flickers:” see preceding. Summer lightning is sometimes described as flickering. 501.19: “Well:” yes, it’s better - an answer to (.18) the question, “Better so?” 501.21: “somewhave:” somewhere on the (waves) water 501.21: “its specific:” whether or not (see McHugh) this includes an overtone of “Pacific,” the response at 502.10 will think so. 501.22-3: “Lesscontinuous. There were fires on every bald hill in holy Ireland that night:” taking .19-20 as an interruption, he wants to get back to the subject, for him, at hand, that “particular lukesummer night” (.16). 501.23, 25: “Better so?:” “That clear?:” both are asking if the reception is any better now. Perhaps also a continuation of (see .14 and note) navigational back-and-forth. 501.24: “You may say they were, son of a cove!:” like “son of a gun.” “Cove” was English slang meaning approximately the same as “fellow” – an informally matey word for someone. Yawn is succumbing to the second half of a bad cop - good cop routine here. His interrogator – as McHugh says, probably the sloothery Mark – is much less abrasive than Matthew, and, consciously or not, Yawn is responding in kind, but it will turn out to be a trick: this interrogator is as much out to get him as all the rest. At 502.10-1 he will return to the question, about the moon, which caught the witness during the trial of Book I (see 88.3 and note) as it will this time around (519.16-25). 501.28: “white night:” a night that never gets completely dark. Occurs in northern latitudes around midsummer (.16). Equally-oppositely, will soon flip-flop to Christmas time, with its “carol”s (.36), the whiteness of “littlewinter snow” (502.2) instead of midsummer light. 501.32: “andeanupper:” Andean: referring to Andes Mountains; Himalayas will follow at 502.4-5. Both, unlike the “every bald hill” of .22, are snow-covered. See 502.4 and note. 502.3: “jesse?:” yes? 502.4: “the nicest of all:” appropriately for the wintry setting, “ice” is imbedded in “nicest.” Perhaps overtone of: the iciest of all 502.6-7: “jusse as they rose and sprungen:” response to “jesse” (.3). McHugh notes that this is an allusion to the German carol “Es is ein Ros entsprungen.” It celebrates Jesus as a rose sprung from the root of Jesse. As with “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht” (.10) and other carols in this sequence, the setting is winter. (McHugh also proposes changing and moving some of the words here; Oxford editors do not.) 502.10: “Peace, Pacific!:” response to “its specific” (501.21). Probably pertinent that the English version of “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,” which appears in the next line, concludes with “Sleep in heavenly peace.” 502.11: “whether Muna, that highlucky nackt, was shining at all?:” compare 88.3-4, and see note to 501.24. 502.16…17: “Latearly…”latterlig:” from “-tear-“ in “Latearly” to Danish Latterlig, laughable: either equal opposites or a completely mistaken (or sarcastic) response 502.17: “soon calid, soon frozen:“ Matthew 22:14: “Many are called, but few are chosen.” May be relevant that Anglicans – Episcopalians, in America – have sometimes been called “God’s frozen people.” (In any case, it’s winter.) 502.18-9: “bruma airsighs:” Brumaire: month of French Republican Calendar: late October to late November. Brume means foggy – the “mistandew” of 501.36, “smother of fog” of .22. 502.20: “hellstohns and flammballs:” hailstones and balls of flame: equal opposites, mediated by “hell” in the former 502.20: “flammballs:” included in this list of extreme weather phenomena, may be what is usually called “ball lightning” 502.22: “Hail many:” “Hail” is response to “hellstohns” (.20), “many” perhaps to “everybody” (.21). 502.23: “so plays your ahrtides:” so please your…: expression completed by word such as “grace” or “honor.” Signals deferential address to authority, for instance a judge. Long shot: “ahrtides” may refer to Aristides, famously “just” Athenian judge. Also, perhaps a response to “airsighs” (.18-9) 502.23-4: “Absolutely boiled. Obsoletely cowled.” Compare 318.31 – a Brunonian example of coinciding contraries – boiled and cold, when one can feel like its opposite. As a monk, Bruno wore a cowl, a feature of his statue in Rome. Possible reference to absolute zero, mentioned in “Ithaca” 502.23: “Absolutely boiled:” totally drunk. (Delirium tremens (delugium stramens” (.30)) will follow. 502.24: “Julie and Lulie at their parkiest:” the two girls of the park scene 502.24: “parkiest:” perkiest 502.26: “formous:” foremost 502.30: “rimey feeling:” besides meaning frost-covered, “rimey” includes archaic spelling of “rhyme.” At .32-3, rhymes follow. 502.31: “sire season:” perhaps, given context, spring (here, early spring, when the fields are still rimey in the morning) – the mating season, when a young man feels like writing love rhymes. Again, .32-3 will rime/rhyme. 502.32: “Desire, for hire, would tire a shire:” McHugh gives “shire horse” – a “powerful draught horse” – for “shire,” and the next line concludes with “mares.” I suggest that one sense is that being a stud for hire would be exhausting, even for an exceptionally sturdy stallion. 502.33: “wire:” telegraph 502.34: “Of whitecaps any?:” response to “mares” (.33), by way of Latin mare, the sea 502.36: “lambskip:” proverbially, lambs skip/jump/frolic etc. in the spring. 502.36: “Paronama!:” a long shot here: given the recent efforts at guessing the book’s title, and the word before this – “Finglas” – I suggest that, with “Paro-“ heard as “Para-,” “Paronama” can be translated as Almost-named. 502.36: “Paronama! The entire horizon cloth!:” see McHugh. According to an 1899 issue of The British Architecht, a “Panorama Horizon Cloth” is for “sky and distant effects” on the stage - the (“joints caused ways” (503.1) Giant’s Causeway, for instance, or even (“starey sphere” (503.5)) the starry stratosphere. Switching second “o” with first “a,” close to a hyperbolic “Paranormal!” about the special effects on display 503.2-3: “But thundersheet? - No here. Under the blunkets:” Perhaps obvious: normally, a sheet goes under the blankets. Also, following “windmachine, snowbox,” probably a play on “thunderbox,” slang for portable toilet (see 314.28-9 and note) – flatulence under the sheets plus echo effect 503.4: “common or garden:” would normally be completed by “variety of flower:” Occurs in this sense in “Wandering Rocks.” 503.4: “stilller:” according to Oxford editors, should be “stiller” 503.5: starey sphere:” stratosphere, with stars 503.5-6: “oleotorium for broken pottery and ancient vegetables:” in other words, garbage, which would (see McHugh on “oleotorium,” by analogy with auditorium) smell. 503.8: “kikkinmidden:” Bonheim glosses “kikkin-“ as Kücken, chick – a link to the kitchen midden where Biddy the hen first dug up the letter. 503.10-11: “Ealdermann Fanagan…Junkermenn Funagin:” besides Adam and Eve, the “illassorted first couple” was first an older, then a younger, man/men/meeting Finnegan. Probably a memory of the park encounter of Book I. Given the kitchen-midden trash in the vicinity, “Junkermenn” includes junk-man/junk-men. 503.12: “W. K.:” McHugh has this as a response to the question about the “wellknown kikkinmidden” (.8). Since the “k” in “wellknown” would be silent, this makes sense; since it seems to be addressed to the questioner, it suggests that the answerer is taking those words as the questioner’s name. 503.13-5: “Fingal too they met at Littlepeace aneath the bidetree, Yellowhouse of Snugsborough, Westreeve-Astagob and Slutsend with Stockins of Winning’s Folly Merryfalls:” as Mink and McHugh note, all the place-names except for “Yellowhouse” are within Dublin’s Fingal area, which also includes Howth, the site of the Bloom picnic remembered at the end of Ulysses and (623.3-33) the destination of the picnic in prospect at the end of FW, therefore likely location of picnic scraps unearthed along with the letter by Biddy, near the book’s beginning. 503.13: “bidetree:” Buddha’s Bodhi tree 503.15: “all of a two:” that is, “the illassorted couple” (.9) 503.18: “four last winds:” echo of Christ’s “seven last words” 503.22: “It is woful in need:” response to “Woful Dane Bottom” (.21): it is woeful indeed. He will go on to be categorical: everything under the sun, or at least the Irish sun, is awful – even Ireland’s celebrated green is really (“gan greyne” (.23)) gangrene. 503.23: “grianblachk sun:” aside from three stages of glaucoma, the Irish flag, a “tricolour ribbon” (.24) of green, blanc, and (sun-colored) gold. (Compare 176.24: “grim white and cold.”) 503.23: “gan greyne Eireann:” according to O Hehir, in Gaelic means: without the sun of Ireland. Juxtaposed with “under the…sun,” an FW coinciding-contraries. 503.26-7: “The flagstone. By tombs, deep and heavy. To the unaveiling memory of. Peacer the grave:” still gloomy, a sardonic response to “The old [Irish] flag, the cold flag:” flag to flagstone, flagstone as tombstone, the inscription, instead of unavailingly memorializing his unfailing memory, mercilessly unveiling the story on who lies within. Still, peace to his grave 503.28-9: “Peacer…Woodin:” stone (see McHugh) and (wooden) tree. The tree turns out to be (504.35) Yggdrasil. 503.29: “Trickspissers will be pairsecluded:” again, rumors of the park scandal regularly include a pair of girls, pissing. Here, a warning that they will be prosecuted/persecuted for pissing on the grave 503.30: “There used to be a tree stuck up? An overlisting eshtree?:” note apparent contradiction: everlasting, but it “used to be” around. I suggest that this and the following conflate two traditions, that of the eternal Yggdrasil, holding up the heavens, and of Irminsul, in one version (there are many) the sacred ash of Thor which was cut down by order of Charlemagne in 753 as part of his program of forced Christianization. (“Eshtree”/ashtray tells us that it was burned on the spot.) Contemporary scholarship speculated that the two were related or identical. Oxford editors insert “there” after “tree.” 503.32: “Oakley Ashe’s elm:” as identified by Glasheen, Annie Oakley 503.32: “snoodrift:” “the snood / That is the sign of maidenhood” – Joyce, “Bid Adieu to Girlish Ways.” As traditional headdress for nuns, (snow) white. Here, also a patch of snow hanging on one of the tree’s “bough”s after all the winter weather; before then the tree was “reignladen” (.34) rain-laden. 503.33-4: “grawndest crowndest consecrated maypole:” maypoles are traditionally given a “crown” – usually a wreath of flowers – by the Queen of the May. Also, Ibsen’s Solness falls from a steeple when placing a wreath over its spire. 503.36: “burqued:” birched (whipped or caned); burked (killed and sold to medical school for dissection) 504.1: “our lecture is its leave:” the leaves of a book, for reading. Compare 628.6. 504.2: “Squiremade and damesman of plantagenets:” continues double sense of “reignladen” tree (503.34): plants and the royal family, which according to one version got its name from a plant. Squire and dames: compare Bloom’s “Circe” fantasy as a “squire of dames.” 504.3: “wren:” response to “cran” (.1) – which is in turn a distortion of “wren” in the song: see McHugh 504.14: “Remounting aliftle:” flying upward, achieving (a little) liftoff 504.14: “ouragan of spaces:” Malay ourang, man: as in “orangutan” – member of the simian species of Darwinian (Origin of Species) evolution 504.15: “cardinal rounders:” cardinal numbers, round numbers. “Solve it!” (.13) was in sense of solving a math problem. 504.15-6: “sir Arber:’ Siddhartha (Gautama), under his (“Arber”) tree. See note to 503.13. 504.16: “avis on valley:” Amos and Andy, phenomenally popular radio program. According to his friend Mme. Maria Jolas, at night Joyce listened "to what he used to call the Transatlantic clowns over the National Broadcasting Company." Amos and Andy was broadcast over NBC and was by far the most popular comedy of the time. (The talkers are returning to the business of tuning into the right radio station.) See .20-1 and note. 504.17: “burble:” to utter nonsense. Portmanteau word invented by Lewis Carroll 505.17-8: “without too much italiote interfairance, what you know in petto:” I suggest that, especially given the setting (conclave, cardinals), McHugh’s gloss as in petto di, Italian for “in the name of,” is less likely here than simply in petto, meaning “in secret,” a phrase with distinct Vatican connotations: several internet identifications say it is “used of the names of cardinals designate,” or words to that effect. Second to Latin, the language at a conclave would likely be Italian. Compare entry for “O dite!”, line 19. 504.18: “interfairance:” interference on the radio from other stations adjacent on the dial, in this case from a broadcast from Italy, the “burble” sound (.17) being an example 504.19: “Tonans Tomazeus:” T.T.: another Tristan signature. Perhaps also Thomas Aquinas, whose works, in a cardinals’ conclave, would naturally be considered on questions of the “sovereign beingstalk” (see next entry), and who wrote influentially on the subject of God’s “Imminence” (.19-20), immanence. Also, see McHugh: the tree right now is an oak, the “sovereign beingstalk” or kind of trees, sacred to Jove the Thunderer. 504.19: “sovereign beingstalk:” conversation about God, the Sovereign Being. Again, to be expected at a conclave. 504.19: “O dite!:” as McHugh notes, Italian for “O say!” “Audite!” would be Latin single second-person imperative for Hear!. “Odite!” would be Latin plural second-person imperative for Hate! The response, “Udi, Udite!,” would be Italian for Hear! Hear! Again, the Latin of the Vatican conclave is getting a lot of “italiote interfairance” (.18), from the fact that most of the cardinals present, like all the popes for a very long time, are Italian. 504.20-1: “Corcor Andy, Udi, Udite! Your Ominence, Your Imminence and delicted fraternitrees!:” again (see note to .16), I take this as coming from a broadcast of Amos and Andy, garbled by radio interference. The program often featured meetings of “that great fraternity, the Mystic Knights of the Sea,” whose members were sometimes described as “eminent.” 504.21: “delicted:” delinquent 504.21: “queensmaids:” queen of the May. See 503.34-5 and note. 504.22…24: “Idahore…bommptaterre:” not likely a coincidence that Idaho should be so close to a pomme de terre, potato. In America, the connection between the two had been established by Joyce’s time. 504.22: “they woody babies:” use of “they” here – either as version of “their” or pronunciation of “the” – would indicate an uneducated speaker. 504.23: “bird flamingans:” a bird flaming (again): the phoenix 504.24-5: “Tyburn:” given context, pertinent that the gallows was called “Tyburn tree.” 504.25: “fenians:” given context, overtone of “felons” 504.25: “quickenbole:” compare “quicken boughs” (275.15) – featured in Druid ceremonies. 504.26-8: “culprines of Erasmus Smith’s burstall boys with their underhand leadpencils climbing to her crotch for the origin of spices:” Oxford editors have “culprinse.” A double-entendre sequence: “cul-” as French for arse; “underhung” as in “hung” in the sexual sense; “lead in the pencil” as slang for an erection (also, compare 3.6, 56.12, and the M’Intosh of “Oxen of the Sun,” who “Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis”). A tree’s “crotch” is a fork between two branches. The gist may be that the boy culprits (a (“burstall”) borstal is for delinquents) are graduating to heterosexuality after their school days of some pretty rough buggery with one another’s culs. (Joyce’s Portrait was one of the first over-the-counter books to broach the subject of public-school “smugging.”) Also, with Darwin in the vicinity, “underhung” may indicate the prognathic jaw of one of our simian ancestors: in Ulysses, Punch Costello’s prognathic jaw reminds Bloom of Darwin’s missing link. Also OED has “prine” as archaic English for Latin prinus, evergreen oak. Latin “Erasmus” traces from the Greek for “to love.” 504.27-8: “for the origin of spices and charlotte darlings with silk blue askmes:” Spices typically come from trees and silk from mulberry trees – two major reasons for trade-driven European exploration, both eastward and westward 504.28: “silk blue askmes:” blue come-hither eyes. (Nora Barnacle had blue eyes. See 584.4 and note. Molly Bloom "asked him with my eyes to ask again.") 504.31: “catastripes:” cat-o-nine-tails, a whip causing wounds called “stripes” 504.31-2: “killmaimthem pensioners:” retired old soldiers (see McHugh) were once in the business of killing and maiming. 504.32: “cucking overthrown milestones up to her to fall her cranberries and her pommes annettes:” throwing rocks to knock the fruit out of the trees. (Hard to believe that Joyce thought that cranberries, which come from bogs, including Irish bogs, grew on trees.) 504.33: “refection:” as in refectory: the fruit and food just mentioned is for them to eat. 504.36-505.1: “the sun and moon pegging honeysuckle and white heather:” sunlight gilds; moonlight whitens. 505.1-2: “timtits tapping resin there and tomahawks watching tar elsewhere:” tomtits tap (to extract insects from bark); hawks watch from on high. Resin is produced by trees, especially pines; pine resin is an ingredient in some tars. 505.3: “for to claw and rub:” for instance cats, using a tree trunk for a scratching and rubbing post 505.5: “pinecorns:” pinecones 505.5-6: “plantitude outsends of plenty to thousands:” “twenty and two thousand” is a recurring figure in the Bible. Its first occurrence is in Numbers 3:39: all the male Levites more than a month old “were twenty and two thousand.” Also, overtone of plenitude (of plants) 505.6: “snakedst-tu-naughsy:” “the “naked” in “snakedst” indicates that the dress is daringly revealing: the snake in Eden caused Adam and Eve to see that they were naked, therefore (“naughsy”) naughty. 505.8-10: “such a fashionaping sathinous dress out of that exquisitive creation and her leaves…sinsinsinning since the night of time:” made of leaves, her dress is green now, can turn yellow or brown with age. Compare 200.2-3, where her dress is “of changeable jade that would robe the wood of two cardinals’ chairs” – green, changing color with the seasons, a robe robbed from, made out of, the leaves of two whole trees, with cardinals (birds) for displaced avian dwellers, as red birds (and prelates) illustrating FW’s frequent red-green coinciding-contraries interchange. For other reports on this dress, see 271, fn. 5 and 619.20-29. 505.8: “fashionaping:” aping the fashion. Continues the Darwin thread 505.8: “sathinous:” Satanic. (“Satan” was originally “Sathan.”) Also, satin is made out of silk, made by worms in (mulberry) trees. Compare 504.27-8 and note. 505.9: “exquisitive creation:” aside from exquisite (“exquisite creation” – a gown, in fashion-talk), as McHugh says, inquisitive – here, the tree of knowledge, revealing forbidden truth about God’s Creation. Being inquisitive led to the original sin that required Adam and Eve to start wearing clothes, beginning with (fig) leaves. 505.9-10: “sinsinsinning:” noise of leaves rustling in wind. (Compare sibilant sounds of “The Yews” in “Circe.”) See .11 and note, .17 and note. 505.10: “since the night of time:” as opposed the dawn of time. Presumably night instead because the original “sinsinsinning” has just occurred 505.11: “twisty hands:” Tristan. Also, compare the “Circe” yews, “interlacing” and “mingling their boughs.” 505.13: “from Ond’s outset till Odd’s end:” compare 455.17-8: “presurely destined to be odd’s without ends.” 505.14-5: “exaltated, eximious, extraoldandairy and excelssiorising:” the four (sometimes three) X’s ending ALP’s letter, standing for kisses 505.14-5: “and excelssiorising:” in excelsis 505.16: “trees like angels weeping:” presumably, weeping willows. Follow-through at .30 (“weeping of the daughters”) and then, as response to .30, “treemanangel” (.33) 505.17: “rocked of agues:” those suffering from ague proverbially shiver and totter. Perhaps reflects tree shaking in the wind: compare .10-11. 505.21: “steyne of law indead what stiles its neming:” “stiles:” steles – tall monumental gravestones. “Steyne” [stone] of law,” as a response to “rocked” (.17), indicates a set of laws originally carved in stone, for instance the Ten Commandments. “Neming” echoes both “naming” and “meaning.” “Indead” as in “dead hand” of the past, still restricting the living; Tod, German for death, will follow at .23. 505.23: “Tod, tod, too hard parted:” given context – signs of death, including tombstones, everywhere – I suggest an overtone of “Dear departed,” Bloom’s “Hades” phrase for those buried in the graveyard. Also compare Bloom in “Sirens:” “Cruel it seems. Let people get fond of one another. Then tear asunder.” 505.24: “Finight:” finite 505.27: “pundit:” pending 505.28: “Splanck!:” Speak! 505.29: “Upfellbowm:” McHugh notes the presence of Newton’s apple. Planck’s quantum mechanics may be said to have drastically revised Newton: it turns out that apples can fall up as well as down - in the next two lines, downward motion (of weeping tears) “remounts.” 505.32-3: “looseaffair brimsts of fussforus:” early friction matches were called lucifers. (One appears in “Circe.”) The combustible element in early matches could be phosphorous or sulfur, that is (“brimsts”) brimstone. 505.33-4: “on his soredbohmend because Knockout, the knickknaver, knacked:” expression: knocked on his beam end – to be in serious trouble, like a ship on the verge of capsizing 505.36-506.1: “the presention of crudities to animals:” response to “knickknaver, knacked…knechtschaft” (.34-5). Knackers dealt with the remains of slaughtered animals; the S.P.C.A. (see McHugh) would, presumably, make a point of objecting. 506.1-2: “put his own nickelname on every toad, duck, and herring:” Adam naming the animals, before the fall. Also, before Adam’s nicknaming, God, who as Bloom thinks in “Nausicaa” “Wants to stamp his trademark on everything.” In “Circe,” Stephen thinks of such a trademark as God’s “criminal thumbprint.” 506.2 “the climber clomb aloft:” the snake of Eden, before it loses its legs: climbing up the tree as a “crawler,” it is then condemned to be “aslimed” for the rest of its life (.6-8). 506.2-3: “the midhill of the park:” the tree of life and the tree of knowledge were both “in the midst of the garden.” 506.3: “his bitter hoolft:” Eve, Adam’s “better half.” Compare 452.3 and note. “Bitter,” of course, conveys the opposite. 506.4: “He would let us have the three barrels:” mixes two common shooting expressions: 1. Let them have it; 2. With both barrels. (Though unusual, three-barrel guns, including shotguns, were around at the time.) Satan is a sniper shooting from the top of the tree. Given the “hoose” of the next sentence, it may be pertinent that “Three Barrels” was a popular brand of cognac. 506.5: “hoose:” ‘hootch: Americanism for liquor 506.8: “for the bellance of hissch leif:” as in a life prison term, as proclaimed by God: Adam and Eve as our “Poorparents…sentenced to Worms, Blood and Thunder for Life” (175.9-10). 506.12: “lagged:” arrested 506.12: “Coombe:” at the time, a rundown area of Dublin 506.15-6: “the foerst of our treefellers:” expression: can’t see the forest for the trees. (Or vice-versa.) Also, given Darwinian strain, perhaps the first of our tree-dwelling monkey ancestors 506.16: “treefellers:” trefoils (shamrocks). Also, truffles grow at the bases of trees. See .18 and note. Gladstone is the usual FW tree-feller. 506.17: “fanest:” forest-as-fane (temple) is a recurring conceit in English poetry. 506.17-8: “in the absence of any soberiquiet…Bapsbaps Bomslinger!:” Adam, the “Grand Precursor,” had given all the animals their original and right names, the name for the snake being “crawler” (506.5-6). (This name circulates throughout FW. ALP’s nemesis, McGraw, Magrath, etc. is etymologically derivative.) Since FW combines the Fall of Eden with the destruction of the Tower of Babel, a new name, or new sobriquet, or both, is required. 506.17: “absence of any soberiquiet:” sober and quiet are two things he is not. 506.18: “truefalluses:” perhaps truffles – found at the base of a tree. Also, true fallacies 506.20 “There do be days:” the address to “sir” (.19) notwithstanding, this seems to begin a sequence in which the answers are from a woman – mainly Kate, sometimes blending in with an older ALP and with the washerwomen of I.8. (“Does be” and “do be” are Irish idioms, in both Ulysses and FW usually if not always a sign of lower-class speakers.) By the middle of p. 508, she has faded out. 506.21: “lidging house:” both McHugh and Oxford editors have “lodging house.” Lodging houses were cheap overnight accommodations in which strangers would sometimes share the same bed. 506.21-2: “there do be nights of wet windwhistling when he does be making me onions woup all kinds of ways:” compare, for instance, 201.19-20, 623.3-7. Distant in daylight, when the space between them (Chapelizod and Howth) is visible, hot stuff at night, when he is the (“saywint”) wind from the sea storming up the Liffey’s “ambushure.” Often named some version of “brine” or “briny,” the lover’s sea wind and sea current is salty, like tears, weeping. (Possible overtone of “onion soup,” either salty or being salted.) In a continuation of this dialogue he will be remembered less romantically as a “salt son” and “sealiest old forker” (507.34-6). 506.22: “making me onions woup:” onions make the eyes weep. 506.25: “pippin’s:” in context of the apple tree of Eden: a pippin is an apple, a pip is a seed. She’s scattered the seeds from the tree all over, and they’ve “cropped up” to produce fruit that (see McHugh) like sour grapes, sets the teeth of the next generation on edge. 506.25: “pippin’s…tooth:” two i’s, two t’s – FW’s usual Morse code exchange between Iseult and Tristram. 506.26: “thornyborn:” as in Wordsworth’s “The Thorn,” for an infant to be born (or buried) under a thorn (bramble bush) can be a mark of illegitimacy, perhaps of infanticidal exposure. 506.27: “Concerning a boy:” an exceptionally confusing part of what is in general one of the most confusing patches of FW. No “boy” has been mentioned recently, and the testimony continues to be mainly about a version of the father – “a man of around fifty” (.34). 506.28: “vicariously:” variously 506.32: “Never you mind about my mother or her hopitout:” response to “mehrer” (.24) and “habitat” (.29) 506.33: “admired vice:” response to “take my advice” (.30) 506.34: “struck on:” stuck on – has a crush on; compare 159.12-3. 507.1: “old boy:” in Britain, signifies faithful public school or university alumnus. Compare 624.23: “Wordherfhull Ohldhbhoy!” 507.2: “fishy stare:” more about his salt sea origins. Compare father described at 559.23: “beastly expression, fishy eyes.” Fish don’t blink. 507.6: “the coat on him:” Irish idiom. Compare 197.4. 507.6: “skinside:” writing side of parchment. (Other is “hairside.”) 507.8-9: “the public going for groceries:” see 78.12-3 and note; compare, for instance, 367.2: “his grocery baseness:” the establishment deals in groceries as well as drinks. 507.9-10: “slapping greats and littlegets soundly with his cattegut belts, flapping baresides:” for “greats and “littlegets,” see McHugh. Whipping students, sometimes on the bare skin. “Cattegut:” recalls “catastripes”/cat-o-nine-tails (504.31). A belt, as Stephen testifies in Portrait, chapter one, is a blow, as in “to give a fellow a belt.” 507.11: “in font of the tubbernuckles:” the font is in the front of the (tabernacle) church. 507.12: “longarmed lugh:” lug: a clod or bumpkin, in this case semi-simian 507.13: “Touch him:” in Irish idiom, a “touch” is either sexual intercourse an appeal for a loan or handout. Here, an ironic response to “Toucher ‘Thom’” of 506.28, probably in this sense: “’Toucher?” Well, touch him.” (The next sentence indicates that trying to touch him for a loan would be fruitless.) See next entry. 507.14: “swatmenotting:” “Touch me not:” words spoken by the resurrected Jesus to his mother. (See 509.33, 509.34 and notes.) Another response to “Toucher ‘Thom,’” meaning that the speaker is invariably disinclined to give any financial assistance. “Touch me not” has this sense in “Hades.” 507.15-7: “He has kissed me more than once, I am sorry to say and if I did commit gladrolleries may the loone forgive it! O wait till I tell you!:” again, a female voice, probably Kate’s, blending with the gossipy washerwomen of I.8. 507.16: “gladrolleries:” idolatries 507.19: “And look here!:” recalls the washerwomen of I.8, finding signs of sin on the dirty laundry 507.22: “hottest worked word of ur sprogue. You’re not!:” Erse brogue. Also, Brendan O Hehir identifies “sprogue” as Gaelic barróg, a speech defect. The most overworked word in question is apparently “not,” as in “swatmenotting on the basque of his beret” (.14-5), “We are not going yet” (.18), and, here, “You’re [your] not.” (“Swatmenotting” may include “knot,” as a word for what is variously called the spike, fillet, thingy, etc. on the top of a beret.) 507.22-3: “Unhindered and odd times:” McHugh glosses as 101, but because eleven is an “odd” number, this could also be 111 – the number of ALP’s gifts to her children in I.8 and, as 1 + 1 + 1, the three sides of her FW siglum. 507.24: “Such my billet. Buy a barrack pass:” a billet is military lodging. A barrack pass is written authorization to leave a military outpost. 507.26: “You are alluding to the picking pockets:” that is, the “robbers” (.25), as pickpockets 507.30: “Now, just wash and brush up your memoirias a little bit:” a staple of courtroom drama: “Perhaps this will refresh your memory,” with insinuation that the witness is feigning ignorance. “Wash” is a segue from the washerwoman’s voice back to the prosecutor of the inquisition. 507.31-2: “demented brick thrower:” compare “cemented brick” (59.24). 507.33: “arc of the covenant:” compare .11 and McHugh note: David danced before the Ark of the Covenant, here spelled “arc” to include the rainbow of Noah’s covenant with God. 507.34-5: “salt son of a century…the sealiest old forker:” expressions like “son of a seacook,” dodging ruder language associated with sailors. Again, the FW male lover is often a personification of the salt sea or sea wind, rushing up the freshwater Liffey. HCE’s siglum E sometimes represents the three tines of a fork, and ALP’s childhood memories include a frightening one of her father chasing after her with a “forkful of fat” (626.12-3). 508.2: “5 pints 73 of none Eryen blood in him:” 5.73 pints. The average human has ten pints of blood. “Eryen” combines “Aryan” with “Erin.” It was and is widely known that the Irish are the product of several races, intermingled – “Miscegenations on miscegenations” (18.20). 508.3: “cowbeamer:” compare 63.28. 508.4: “brewer’s grains:” blue-green 508.5-6: “Yule Remember…twelfth day Pax:” Compare “epiphany” of line 11. The feast of Epiphany is on the twelfth day of the Christmas season. 508.7: “wandering:” response to “wondering” (6) 508.9: “they:” in light of the following sequence, his clothes in general, his pants in particular (see McHugh on “esobhrakonton” (.12); also for .15’s recollection of 211.11, where “braggs” = breeks = britches); hence the “epiphany” is “culious” (.11) – of the cul, anus. Here as there he is noted for his pants, which are “Wooly” (.15) either because they really are made of wool or because they resemble the pants worn by “Wally” (.211.11) Meagher. (That they are “coming down” (.9) recalls the Russian general: the story of his offence, combined with the park scandal, will resurface at 508.5-14.) See next entry. 508.14: “Man is minded:” again, one is reminded of Wally Meagher – his pants, his fiancées. 508.15: “wat?:” what? – as in, “isn’t that right?” 508.16: “Ay, another good button gone wrong:” response to “back buckons” (.3), misheard as “bad button” 508.19-20: “Pamelas, peggylees, pollywollies, questuants, quaintaquilties, quickamerries:” the Meagher of 61.13-27 was “co-affianced” to two fiancées, “Questa and Puella;” here the P – Q tally has grown to six. “Quaint” is ME for cunt. Compare also .6. 508.21: “Concaving now convexly to the semidemihemispheres and from the female angle, music minnestirring:” the subject of Meagher and his bevy of beauties moves the discussion to matters feminine and musical: concave (“the female angle”) vis-à-vis (male) convex, man’s better half (hemisphere) in the language of musical notation 508.21: “music minnestirring:” sympathetic vibration to distant music – here, to the music of the (hemi)spheres 508.22: “minnestirring:” German minnesinger, troubadour 508.22-3: “subligate sisters:” Wikipedia: “in music notation, a ligature is a graphic symbol that tells a musician to perform two or more notes on a single syllable.” Thanks to Stephen Sas for noting this and the previous entry 508.24-5: “the peach of all piedom, the quest of all quick?:” expression: she’s a peach, meaning she’s the best of all women. (Here, for the purpose, peach pie is assumed to be the best of all pies.) “Quest of all quick:” response to “questuants…quickamerries:” “Quick” as in “the quick and the dead:” any man with a pulse will automatically pursue one or both or all of them. 508.27: “mute antes:“ response to “mutandis” (.23): as McHugh notes, Italian for women’s underpants. See next entry. 508.27: “seesaw shallshee:” riding a seesaw would be a good way for a girl to let others see her underpants. 508.28: “Quaine:” given context, Green. She saw their underpants when they were “gonning” (same line) on the town green. 508.30: “Boy and giddle, gape and bore:” again (see .21 and note), male, the bore, is convex; female, the gape, is concave. 508.32: “the two Collinses:” given context (music, female performers, “unmatchemable” unmentionables “bopeeped at”), a probable allusion to Lottie Collins, who began in show business as part of an act called “The Three Sister Collins” and whose high-kicking performance of “Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay” was a music hall sensation of the 1890’s. Her risqué exposure of underwear was memorialized in the widely-circulated question asked in Portrait, chapter five, “Lottie Collins lost her drawers; Won’t you kindly let her yours?” See notes to Collins at 101.3, 241.33, and especially 247.29-34, which helps explain “white in black arpists” (.33) – Lottie’s black stockings against the white skin of her “leg” when (“knickt”) kicked up (.32, 33). Also see 561.15. 508.33: “white in black arpists:” Hans Arp, who Joyce probably met in Zurich, specialized in compositions in black, white and grey, saying “black and white is writing,” therefore an apt form of artistic communication. Also, see next entry. 508.33: “arpists:” played by black and white keys (McHugh), the soundboard of a piano resembles a horizontal (“arp-“) harp. (The connection between the two instruments plays a part in “Sirens.”) See next entry. 508.33: “cloever spilling:” in the sense of interpreting, Saint Patrick’s clever spelling of the clover as signifying the Trinity. Given proximity of Bach, may also include the clavier. 508.34: “Gels bach…liszted. Etoudies for the right hand.:” More piano. Bach arranged some of his harpsichord compositions for the piano, which was invented during his lifetime. Liszt was famous for his flamboyant performances on the piano, in part made possible by his extraordinarily large and supple hands. Studies for the Right Hand, by G. Tyson-Wolff, “after” Czerny’s The School of Velocity, was published in 1906. “Liszted,” listened, follows up on the off-the-cuff admission that he “bopeeped” (.27) at the two girls in the park, doing something. (Usually, the something is urinating, sometimes (e.g. 96.13-4 as indicated by “peep.”) 509.1: “Where do you get that wash?:” “wash” is partly a response to “watching…watcher” 509.36), but mainly an indignant denial: at 508.36 the inquisitor had implied that, during the park scandal, he was one of the watchers as well as watched. (To be sure, he had invited the imputation with his words “the prettiest pickled of unmatchemable mute antes I ever bopeeped at” (508.26-7).) His repudiation: “They were watching the watched watching,” not I (.2-3); my underlining). 509.3: “Vechers:” lechers. Again: they were the lechers, not me. 509.5: “longuer:” response to “I, languised, liszted” (508.35) 509.5: “retouching friend Tomsky:” referring back to “Toucher ‘Thom’” (506.28) 509.6: “rooshian mad:” phrase: mad Russian. Perhaps a response to Russian-sounding “Tomsky” (.5), a Russified “Thom.” McHugh notes that Tomsk is a town in Siberia. At .30-6 he will have become a version of the Russian general of II.3, overseen defecating during a thunderstorm. 509.7: “his shapeless hat:” the “cowbeamer” of 508.3? Cows are or were sometimes jokily given hats, and it seems a good bet that such hats were or soon became pretty shapeless. 509.9-10: “But I was dung sorry for him too:” again (see .6 and note): in context, recalls the Russian general and his offensive defecation 509.18-9: “But what seemed sooth to a Greek summed nooth to a giantle:” basically, what seems true to one community can seen false to another. (Still, by most definitions a Greek would also be a gentile.) 509.19. “Who kills the cat:” curiosity killed the cat. (Though I don’t see how this fits.) 509.19-20: “Who kills the cat in Cairo coaxes cocks in Gaul:” perhaps an example of the sentiment in .18-9 (see note), along with what today would be called the butterfly effect: no matter how far apart, killing the cats in one place is good for the birds in another. 509.21: “I put it to you:” a standard expression for a prosecuting attorney addressing a defendant or reluctant witness. Compare 507.30 and note. 509.21-3: “I put it to you that this was solely in his sunflower state and that his haliodraping het was why maids all sighed for him:” recounts much of the action of II.1: sun and heliotropism as young male figure attracting girls. Compare, for instance, the newly-arrived “femorniser,” with his “celestial sunhat,” exciting “young shy gay youngs” (242.13-6). See next two entries. 509.21: “solely:” contains “sol,” sun 509.22: “haliodraping het:” includes echo of the sun’s “halo.” Compare 612.29-30: “the firethere the sun in his halo cast.” Also, derived from or the same as the “cowbeamer” of 508.3: sun’s halo, sun’s beams 509.27: “Lid efter lid:” eyelids 509.28: “Reform in mine size:” re-form – that is, reconfigure in your mind’s eye and my eyes 509.28-9: “Tiffpuff up my nostril, would you puff the earthworm outer my ear:” a kind of facially anatomical whack-a-mole: nostrils and ears, including (“outer my ear”) outer ear are joined by the Eustachian tubes. Blowing air up the nose with the mouth closed, could, theoretically, force impacted earwax, worm-shaped (like Shem’s “worms of snot” (183.29)), out of the ears. See next entry. 509.29: “puff the earthworm outer my ear:” McHugh: “earthworm” is German Ohrwurm, earwig. Tradition has it that earwigs lodge in the ear and burrow into the brain. Here, following the hydraulic procedure just proposed, blowing up his nostrils would expel any earwig from his outer ear. 509.32: “the whole of her farce:” the hole in her face – the mouth. Follows the other holes – eyes, nostrils, ears – included in preceding question (.26-9) 509.33: “volimetangere:” the “v” at the beginning turns this “touch me not” – probably his penis – into something like “I want you to touch me.” From Ulysses, recalls Molly’s “voglio,” her “Give us a touch, Poldy,” and Stephen’s “Proteus” “Touch me.” 509.34: “pantoloogions:” “since “Noli me tangere” was spoken to Christ’s mother, this may allude to Panthera, the legionnaire said by nonbelievers to have been Christ’s real father. (The name appears in “Circe” and is sounded at FW 565.19; see also 136.17-8, 360.36 and notes.) 509.35: “a piece of first perpersonal puetry:” autobiographical poetry written by a puer, a young man. Possible allusion to Joyce’s poem “Ecce Puer.” Also, given Russian general’s activity, “puetry” probably includes “putrid.” 510.1: “Booms of bombs and heavy rethudders:” thunder following the “lightning” of 509.34. Recalls Russian general, who also defecated amidst lightning and thunder (344.12-31) – hence “This aim to you!” (.2), glossed by McHugh as “The same anew.” 510.3-4: “The tail, so mastrodantic, as you tell it nearly takes your own mummouth’s breath away:” to defecate, he has exposed his (“tail”) arse, which is so huge that (along with the smell being emitted) it takes his breath away. 510.3: “mastrodantic:” Maestro Dante 510.4: “Your troppers so unrelieved:” in military language, troops are “relieved” when taken out of battle. Given preceding, “troppers” is also an overtone of trousers (being dropped), “unrelieved” includes sense of relieving one’s bowels. 510.9-10: “With a hoh frohim and heh freher:” From “Tea for Two:” “a boy for you, a girl for me.” Echoes recur throughout FW, for instance at 620.33. 510.10: “Tammy Thornycraft:” apparently a recollection of “thornyborn” (506.26) – Yawn being addressed while interrogated about “Toucher ‘Thom.’” (Oxford editors have “Tummy” for “Tammy.”) Was renamed “Tomsky” at 509.5. (Finnegan’s first name was Tim, and in FW it sometimes elides with Tom.) 510.12: “massage:” message, as transitive verb. What follows is in fact a message – an invitation to “Come to the ballay” (.14) celebrating a mass wedding; the festivities will become rowdy in a way recalling (“A Wake! Come a wake!” (.16)) Finnegan’s wake. 510.13-36 in particular mimics, sometimes rhythmically, the song’s account of the ruckus at the wake. 510.14: “ballay:” (dancing) ball. McHugh has “ballet” as well. 510.14: “We mean to be mellay:” we mean/women to be merry 510.15-6: “Gaelers’ Gall:” Gaelic Policemen’s Jailers (Gaolers) Ball. Also, McHugh has “Gaeler” as Latin gallus, cock. In other words, cock-call – dawn. 510.16: “old skin:” variant on Irish expression “a decent skin:” a good guy. Leather is, of course, old skin. 510.17-8: “old house of the Leaking Barrel:” reminder of Shaun/Yawn of III.1-2 – the leaking barrel 510.18: “lairking:” larking – having a good time 510.18: “tootlers:” players of pipes or some other wind instrument. (“Cyclops” has “tootle on the flute.”) Paired with “tombours” (.19). See next entry. 510.19: “tombours:” tambours (drums) and/or tambourines. Both are associated with merry-making. 510.21: “bank lean:” bank lien, following on (“bankrompers” (.20)) bank-robbers 510.21: “bank lean clorks:” compare 287.320: Back Lane, according to Mink “a RC chapel and ‘University,’’ later transferred to Trinity College. “Clorks:” clerks in ME sense of ecclesiasts 510.21: “clorks:” given drinking context, corks. (Compare “cobwebcrusted corks” (38.7).) 510.21: “Some nasty blunt clubs were being operated:” after-hours drinking clubs were open. 510.22: “riot act:” act empowering militia to order crowds to disperse 510.23-4: : “tumblers bearing traces of fresh porter rolling around:” as if offered in evidence, showing that drinking was going on after hours; a “tumbler” was a glass specified for drinking alcohol. With round bottoms so that they could not be put down, they would naturally roll around. 510.24-5: “for the ehren of Fyn’s Insul:” for the honor of Finn’s Island. “Ehren” also accommodates “Erin” and perhaps “erring.” 510.24-5: “Fyn’s Insul:” Finn’s Hotel, where Nora was working as a chambermaid when she met Joyce 510.25: “wapping breakfast:” wedding breakfast 510.26-7: “Rodey O’echolowing how his breadcost on the voters would be a comeback for e’er a one:” see 232.16 and note: Ireland’s Radio 2RN, also called “Radio Athlone,” broadcasting “Come back to Erin.” See also .32-3 and note. Apparently doubling with a politician’s pitch to the voters, “-echolowing” over the airwaves, among other things promising to reduce the cost of bread 510.27: “e’er a one:” as McHugh notes, a reference to Samuel Butler’s Erehwon – that is, “Nowhere,” backwards: probably an assessment of the politician’s pie-in-the-sky promises 510.27-8: “the depredations of Scandalknivery:” the 1169-70 incursions into Ireland which cost Roderick O’Connor (.26) his life are sometimes called “Norman:” Henry II was descended from William the Conqueror, a Norman, and the Normans originated in Scandinavia. See next entry. 510.28: “Scandalknivery:” mention of Scandinavia apparently recalls Norwegian Captain and his (McHugh) “usedtowobble sloops off cloasts” (.29-30), unusual suits of clothes. Compare .32 and note, 511.1-2 and note, and next entry. 510.28-9: “sloops of cloasts:” suit of clothes – a phrase associated, in different versions (e.g. “suite of clouds” (324.30)), with the Norwegian captain, whom no suit of clothes will fit. 510.29: “Would that be a talltale too?:” response to “That’d be telling” (.9) 510.29: “talltale:” telltale: a string or strip of material used on sailing ships (e.g. “sloops” (.28)) to show wind direction 510.30: “innwhite horse:” the inn (where we are invited to have a “Sip” (.30), has the picture of a white horse in the fanlight over its front door (262.22-3), symbolic of the Protestant champion William II. Again, not conducive to good relations in this predominantly Catholic community. Here combined with the (not-white) horse of “Orther” (.30) Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, yet another Protestant champion 510.31: “louties also genderymen:” louts and gentry – all classes welcome 510.32: “Kerssfesstiydt:” recalls Kersse of II.3’s Norwegian Captain story – here, once again, being cursed. Also, equal-oppositely, fêted and crucified 510.32-3: “They came from all lands the wave for songs of Inishfeel:” they answered the broadcast call (.26-7) to Come Back to Erin – as McHugh notes, also the name of a song. 510.34: “kappines all round:” happiness, and a round of drinks, for everyone present 510.34-5: “right reverend…reverent bride eleft:” pairing of right and left. Mass wedding (.6-7) celebration has apparently been reduced to one bride and groom, with the one other person necessary, a priest – the only three “sober” ones left standing. 510.35: “Mr Hopsinbond:” Mr Husband. Compare, for instant, “housebound” (317.5). 510.35: “bride eleft:” the bride-elect (prospective bride) he left (at the altar). Compare 237.28. 511.1: “- I think you’re widdershins there about the right reverence. Magraw for the Northwhiggern cupteam was wedding beastman:” “widdershins” is leftward and counterclockwise, therefore wrong. (Clockwise, deshil perambulations have sometimes featured in religious ceremonies, as bestowing good luck; see next entry.) His predecessor’s report that “Mr. Hopsinbond” was the “right reverend priest” officiating at the wedding (510.34-5) is wrong. (At 3.5, he will go on to say that, as witness, Yawn probably got too brief a look or was distracted by something the party in question carried or wore.) For one thing, the (“Hopsinbond”) husband-to-be cannot be the officiator. In II.3 the (“Northwhiggern cupteam”) Norwegian captain is usually a suitor, and here he is the groom for whom McGrath (“Magraw”) was best man. On the other hand, as in II.3, the fact that a couple can be “captain spliced” (197.13), that captains can perform marriages at sea, complicates things: technically, pace the earlier objection, the captain could have been both groom and officiator. In any case, some of the following testimony describes a wedding at sea. 511.1: “right reverence:” a reverence is a gesture of obeisance, such as a bow or curtsy, in this case toward the right, not (“widdershins”) left, direction. As in “Oxen of the Sun,” such rightward, deshil gestures are sunwards, clockwise, and productive of good luck. 511.2: “Magraw for the Northwhiggern cupteam was wedding beastman:” Magraw/McGraw/McGrath is, as usual (especially to ALP), beastly. Probably the most mysterious character in the book, in some versions he gets his name from the “caw”ing of the raven released from Noah’s ark, and here he is “for” the Norwegian captain. 511.2: “cupteam:” championship teams are awarded cups. 511.4: “with Slater’s hammer perhaps?:” see McHugh. According to Glasheen, Oscar Slater was falsely convicted of murdering an old woman with a hammer. The case was publicized, by Arthur Conan Doyle among others, as a miscarriage of justice. (The presiding judge’s presentation was flagrantly prejudicial, and the interrogation’s tone at about this point is becoming prosecutorial.) Here, the sound of someone being assaulted with a hammer will be, perhaps disingenuously, mixed up with the hammer striking the church bell, then (“she laylylaw was all their rage” (.15)) with the thumping shillelaghs at Finnegan's wake. 511.5: “in serge:” insurge(nt). Magraw/McGrath, throughout FW a rough customer, is wearing serge, a durable material usually associated with the lower orders. By any standard, it would be extremely informal clothing for a wedding. 511.6: “On the stroke of the dozen:” usually in FW, the sound of the bells from Chapelizod’s St. Laurence’s Church, as here, rung by “the old sexton” (“red-fox Good-man” (.8-9)) Fox-Goodman. Yawn is probably free-associatively responding to “hammer” (.4) – church bells are struck with what are called hammers. Also, canings and floggings were commonly measured in dozens and half-dozens of strokes. In “Cyclops,” the citizen refers to floggings in the navy as “a rump and dozen.” 511.6-7: “In search of a stammer:” “in search” is a response to “in serge” (.5). “Stammer” is a response to “hammer” (.4). “In such of a” is an occasional idiomatic variant of “in such a;” the kernel expression here may be “in such a state.” “Kuckkuck kicking,” of course, exemplifies a stammer, as well as an onomatopoeic rendering of the sound of kicking the stuffings out of someone. (See next entry.) It will be imitated by “gickling…to gackles” (.11) and “cacchinic wheepingcaugh!” (.14), this last (see McHugh) as including Italian cachinno, I laugh, also an imitation of the “gackles,” cackles from the “gickling,” tickling, and probably as well of the hacking sound of “wheepingcaugh,” whooping cough. 511.7: “kicking the bedding out of:” kicking the stuffings out of; beds are filled with stuffing. To kick the stuffings out of someone is beat them up, making them (see next entry) black and blue. 511.9-10: “bullbeadle black and bufeteer blue:” beadles wear black; some Beefeaters wear blue coats. Also, apparently an echo of bully beef and beef tea. (Both occur in Ulysses.) 511.11: “brollies:” British slang for umbrellas. (Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.”) As in “Calypso,” umbrellas would be stored “in the hall” (.11-12). 511.12: “divileen:” “divil” is an informal British pronunciation of “devil” – here, of the female variety. 511.13: “cygncygn leckle:” swanlike neck. In the late 19th century especially, a sign of fashionable female elegance 511.13: “her twelve pound lach:” in Barrie’s play of the same name, “the twelve-pound look” is a wife’s air of independence – as soon as she saves up twelve pounds, she can leave her loveless marriage and set out on her own. 511.15-6: “establish personal contact:” with the “wifish woman,” that is. Although here it certainly sounds like a legalistic euphemism for sexual activity, in Joyce’s time it occurs mainly in documents related to business and bureaucracy. 511.17: “pond:” response to either/both “lach” (.13) – lake, “point.” Lake and pond would go with the woman’s swan-ness – her natural home. A lake is conventionally bigger than a pond – perhaps, here, the equivalent of twelve ponds. 511.18: “pigs of cheesus:” response to “epexegesis” (.16). “Resting on a pigs of cheesus:” pig’s cheeks (Compare 25.12: “sitting around on the pig’s cheeks.”) 511.19: “pint of porter:” response to “point of order” (.16) 511.20: “You are a suckersome!:” You are a Sackerson – that is, crude and stupid - because you just admitted (.17-9) that you couldn’t understand my high-class language. 511.20: “airs said to oska:” alpha to omega. “Oska” may refer back to Oscar Slater (.4). 511.21-2: “Where letties hereditate a dark mien swart hairy?:” compare 236.15-6, Bloom’s “Circe” speculations on Molly’s hankering for some “Othello black bruit,” and Molly herself in “Penelope:” “Jesusjack the child is black.” Here, because, to put it politely (compare 236.15-6), ladies hereditarily meditate on dark, swarthy, hairy men, they may give birth to dark-skinned children. (In “Ithaca,” Bloom speculates that Milly is blonde because Molly was thinking of her blonde lover Mulvey when Milly was conceived.) See .28 and note. 511.27: “shubladey’s:” scrublady’s/scrubwoman’s. The sense seems to be that she is dressed like one, or at least wearing whatever would be the kind of drawers such a woman would wear, to “humour” her husband. Nora was a chambermaid when she met Joyce. 511.28: “Massa’s:” African-American idiom for Master, here referring to her husband 511.29: “Mrs Tan-Taylour:” response to “Massa’s star stellar (.28). As in “Circe,” the hyphenated name indicates high class or pretensions to high class. (As does, perhaps, the “our” in “Taylour.”) 511.29-31: “panel:” as in a panel skirt or a segment of a skirt. (Appears in this sense in “The Dead.”) 511.29-30: “secretairslidingdraws:” response to “-ladey’s tiroirs” (.27), lady’s drawers. .29-31 describes both furnishings and a woman (a “secretary” can be either) and her outfit. The “sliding” may be an innuendo: a secretary was originally a secret hiding place, a secretary desk is a desk with a secret drawer, and, as underwear, drawers can be slidden down. 511.30: “schalter:” halter, as article of woman’s clothing, here doubling with shoulder 511.31: “forty crocelips in her curlingthongues:” curling tongs are to curl hair. 511.32-4: “- So this was the dope that woolied the cad that kinked the ruck that noised the rape that tried the sap that hugged the mort?:” refers back to the story of the park scandal and its aftermath – “dope” perhaps as “inside dope,” the news of the transgression; the “cad” in the park, the ensuing ruckus and trial. The “sap” is a version of HCE (sometimes a tree). For “mort” as ALP, see entry for 210.23-4. 511.34-5: “joke…junk…jungular:” James Joyce 511.35: “jest:” gist. Also, probably part of the run of variations on “James Joyce” – as with “jay jocubus” (251.1), Joyce liked to think of his name as suggesting laughter and jokiness. (Probably the same with “jock the wrapper” (.36), too.) 511.35: “jungular:” aside from jocular, Jack the Ripper cut jugulars. 511.36: “Jacked up in a jock the wrapper:” wrapped up by Jack the Ripper, who sent half a kidney, wrapped up in brown paper, to an investigator 512.2-3: “Drysalter, father of Izod:” traditionally, the father of Isolde is the Arthurian Anguish of Ireland. Aside from the similarity of sound, it is not clear where “Drysalter” comes in. Glasheen records an entry from Scribbledehobble: “Drystan: fils de Tallwhch,” and adds, “Drystan was a pictish mechanic.” 512.4: “To the pink, man, like an allmanox in his stickup:” being (McHugh) in the pink, that is in good, healthy condition, he resembles the hearty-looking hunter in FW’s almanac picture. (Also, fox hunters sometimes sported pink jackets.) The pub’s almanac picture is of a hunting scene – the first of a series of hunting prints, depicting the “stirrup cup” at an inn door; in some FW versions the scene features a vertical pole or post (a common pub feature) which, as an earwig pot, gives Porter/Earwicker his nonce name, explained in I.2. (Also, compare “Cyclops:” “There’s an almanac picture for you” – meaning the picture would be heroically idealized, perhaps ludicrously.) The almanac (sometimes calendar) picture is a fixture of FW’s Mullingar House: see (with notes) 13.6-8, 191.6-8, 194.6-9, 214.11-16, 245.35-6, 310.26-9, 318.1-2, 334.27-33, 335.10, 339.9-10, 354.3, 379.3-5, 561.14-15, 567.7-27, 568.16 ff, 619.3-5, 622.24-31, and 623.1-2. 512.4: “stickup:” getup (outfit). Also, in men’s formal wear, the stiff collar sticking up. (In “Wandering Rocks,” young Patrick Dignam Jr. has trouble with one.) Also, a daylight robbery; recalls variant of park scene 512.5: “brustall to the bear:” compare 197.35: “he roade and borst her bar” (197.35). 512.5-6: “the Megalomagellan of our winevatswaterway, squeezing the life out of the liffey:” before becoming an outward-bound ocean conqueror (see .7 and note), the captain is an inward-bound Liffey invader, almost too well-endowed phallically for ALP to squeeze him in. Compare .14-5: “the main the mightier the stricker the strait.” 512.5-6: “winevatswaterway:” Homer’s “wine-dark sea.” Also, compare “winevat” (171.25), in a passage which combines Joyce’s favorite wine with sexual/excremental innuendoes. Here, it seems probable that this picture of the all-man-ox, with his “stickup,” “squeezing life out of the liffey,” who has come, kissed, and conquered (.8), has similar overtones. 512.7: “You punk me!:” response to “To the pink, man” (.4) 512.7: “Carambas!:” Caramba! Stage-Spanish interjection. Probably goes with Christopher Columbus, who sailed for Spain. The Norwegian captain, having married and become lord and master of ALP, Dublin’s river, magnifies into this master mariner of the ocean sea, along with other maritime explorer/conquerors – Magellan (.5), Cabot (.18), Vasco da Gama (.15). 512.8: “Vulturuvarnar!:” combines Varney the Vampire with Varley the Vulture, two mid-Victorian publications. See .8-9 and note. 512.8: “The must of his glancefull:” making eye contact, with his seducer’s penetrating gaze, signalling that she “must” succumb. According to Nora’s mother, as quoted in John Garvin’s James Joyce’s Disunited Kingdom and the Irish Dimension, p. 108, Joyce’s habit of protracted staring led her to call him “The Man with the X-ray eyes.” (See 197.14 and note.) 512.8-9: “ – The must of glancefull coaxing the beam in her eye?:” 1. Matthew 7.3-5: “and why considerest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, and beholdest not the beam that is in thine eye?” 2. See notes to 512.8: vampire seducing woman with his gaze 512.9: “That musked bell:” more innuendo. ALP (.10) is the (masked) belle of the ball. Musk (as in “Telemachus:” “muskperfumed” “dancecards”) is a popular ingredient in perfumes, in part because of its pheromonic reputation. She responds to the “must of his glancefull,” his full gaze, with her musk. A similar transaction occurs in “Nausicaa,” where Bloom’s gaze causes Gerty to heat up, making her perfume evaporate and waft towards him. 512.10: “yep?:” an Americanism, meaning, that’s so, isn’t it? the answering “Yup!” (.11) concurs, in the same idiom. 512.11: “Titentung Tollertone…Aye aye:” 1. Either response to or sound of “bell” (.9) tolling. 2. Tongue-tied; 3. Again, Tristram’s telegraphic ship-to-shore T.T.; Iseult’s answering I. I. Here, combines with a shipboard “aye-aye” and the “I do”s of marriage ceremony 512.12-3: “Wilt thou…Wilt thou…Wilt thou?:” language of Anglican wedding service 512.14-9: “The quicker…exploser:” man’s sexual conquest over woman compared to invading colonists winning out over natives 512.15: “stricker the strait:” Damascus’ “street called Straight;” “strait is the gate” (Matthew 7:14). Also, compare .17-9 and note: the Straits of Magellan, in Patagonia 512.15: “vast:” fast 512.16: “antelithual:” (Greek lithos, stone.) Pre-Stone Age – very primitive 512.16: “circumconversioning of antelithual paganelles:” Following on Columbus (.7), Magellan (“Megalomagellan” (.5)) was first to circumnavigate the globe. Also, the missionaries who followed in their wake would sometimes demand the circumcision of pagans. (“Paganelles” may bring in female circumcision.) 512.17-9: “caecodedition of and absquelitteris puttagonnianne to herreraism of cabotinesque exploder:” blindness of an illiterate (female) Patagonian to the heroism of another global explorer, John Cabot. Patagonia was discovered by Magellan. The Herero of southern Africa, after missions had been established, were almost wholly exterminated by Germany – hence, perhaps, the “herr” in “herreraism.” 512.21-2: “Nautaey, nautaey, we’re nowhere without ye! In steam of kavos now arbatos above our hearths doth hum:” “Nautaey:” as in “nautic” or French nautique: sailor. Homey English favorites of coffee (“kavos”) and tea (“arbatos”) were both made possible by nautical exploration undertaken by the sailors just foregrounded. Coffee was popular before tea also caught on. 512.22-3: “Malkos crackles logs of fun while Anglys cheers our ingles:” Michael – typical Irish name, here for a fun-loving Irishman, paired with a soberer and homier (“Anglys”) Englishman. (As McHugh notes, “Malkos” and “Anglys” are Lithuanian firewood and coal.) Possible sideways allusion (compare 447.4-5) to Swift’s “Burn everything English, excepting her coals.” 512.23-4: “So lent she him ear:” “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.” 512.24: “appierce:” 1. Piercing her ears. (See .27 and McHugh’s translation.) 2. Wedding night loss of virginity, when he “burrow[ed]” – buried – “his manhood” in her. (See note to 482.4.) 3. Marriage to Persse O’Reilly. (See .20.) 512.24-5: “borrow his namas:” take his name in marriage, though maybe not for long 512.25-6: “Suilful eyes and sallowfoul hairweed and the sickly sigh from her gingering mouth like a Dublin bar in the moarning:” ALP as Liffey. Hair as seaweed; mouth as mouth of river; as McHugh notes, bar as in sandbar – a reprise of her river metamorphosis near the end of I.8. ALP’s sexual response to her new husband’s “burrow”ing “his manhood” in her – soulful and sighing and moaning and all, but, despite the hotness implicit in “gingering mouth,” more resigned than anything else. If “bar” also conveys the American sense of drinking establishment, I can report that one in the (“moarning”) morning is, typically, a sorrowful, sickly, and mournful kind of a place. 512.26: “gingering mouth:” “ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth, too:” Twelfth Night II.3. “Gingery” connotes high spirits. Oxford editors have “gingerine.” 512.28: “The park is gracer than the hole...:” it’s more graceful to live in high style (“parks” were woodlands belonging exclusively to country houses) than in some godforsaken hole. 512.28-9: “…but shekleton’s my fortune:” but, alas, I’ve married a rough customer. Besides the (McHugh) explorer Shackleton – another seaborne explorer - Sackerson, FW’s manservant 512.30: “soft a say:” soft c: in “park is gracer” (.28), to which this is a response, presumably the “c” was soft, more like “ch” than “s.” Not being killed during the Sicilian Vespers (see, as the first of several examples, 21.18-9 and note) required pronouncing “ciciri” with a soft c. 512.31: “Flatter O Ford:” includes Joyce’s jingle about Ford Madox Ford and his way with women 512.34-6: “- The house was Toot and Come-Inn by the bridge called Tiltass, but are you solarly salemly sure, beyond the shatter of the canicular year? Nascitur ordo seculi numfit:” the reader is invited to take this or leave it: Tutankhaman’s tomb was discovered and opened in 1922, which was also a (“canicular year”) Chinese Year of the Dog. Ulysses was published in 1922. The quotation from Virgil’s fourth Eclogue (see McHugh) was traditionally taken by Christians to be a pagan prophecy of history’s great sacred event, the birth of Jesus, which occurred during Virgil’s lifetime. (This is why Virgil is qualified to be Dante’s guide, two-thirds of the way.) I suggest that Joyce is, to be sure indirectly, equating his annus mirabilis with the annus mirabilis. 513.1: “behind the shutter:” response to “beyond the shatter” (512.35), in turn probably a garbling of “beyond the shadow” (of a doubt). 513.3: “time of immersion:” common phrase in autopsy reports on drownings: the estimated time that the victim was first immersed. Yawn sank underwater at the end of the previous chapter. Possibly, equal-oppositely, since his baptism. Also, following “Siriusly” (.1): in ancient Egypt the mid-August rising of Sirius signaled the Nile flood – the immersion of the surrounding land. 513.3: “in drought:” the “immersion” has not yet ended the drought. Also, in doubt: in some years, disastrously, the “Fluteful” (.8) flooding did not happen, creating a drought. 513.8: “Fluteful:” flut = German for flood. Again, the appearance of Sirius (.1) marks the flooding of the Nile. 513.8: “ugola:” late Latin for uvula, throat or voice, here producing a high-pitched “Fluteful” sound. Also, the uvula is an (“orkan” (.8)) organ. 513.9-10: “Jambs…of Tophat:” jambes: French for legs. Also – see McHugh - James Joyce, with his limbs-akimbo spider dance. See next entry. 513.10: “Tophat:” given dancing context (“Dawncing,” Nijinsky, choreography, “prance” (.11-3)), possible allusion to 1935 Top Hat, with Fred Astaire. (Not included in 1929 version in transition) 513.11-2: “Dawncing…like an easter sun:” tradition that the sun dances on Easter morning. See next entry. 513.12: “round the colander:” a moveable feast, Easter falls on one of several Sundays in the calendar. 513.12: “Taranta:” includes Tara, ancient name for Ireland. Also – see .9-10, .10 and notes, first note to .14 – more dancing: the tarantella. (Coincidentally or not, Piedigrotta: tarantella (variously punctuated) is the name of a musical composition by 19th century Italian composer Luigi Ricci.) 513.13: “polcat, you would sniff him wops around:” polecats proverbially smell bad. Probably the idea is that Italians do too, or at least smell strongly: compare “a hogo, fluorescent of his swathings, round him, like the cummulium of scents in an italian warehouse” (498.29-30), where “hogo” is glossed by McHugh as a “high or putrescent smell.” 513.13: “wops:” with Piedigrotta alluded to in next line, slang for Italians 513.14: “piedigrotts:” Piedigrotta, Italian site of singing contest; also includes dancing 513.14: “skimpies:” underwear 513.16: “Crashedafar Corumbas:” (delayed) response to “Crestofer Carambas!” (512.7) 513.16: “Czardanser:” (Russian, for the czar) sword dance(r) – perhaps Khatchatourian’s frenetic “Sabre Dance” 513.16-7: “Dervilish glad too:” devilish good, too. (This sounds incongruously stage-English, but perhaps that’s the point: the speaker is still one of the sober legal interrogators, however chaotic the proceedings.) 513.17: “affection:” infection 513.20: “Prisky Poppagenua:” Prince/Prefect of Propaganda. “Prefect of Propaganda” is an office in the Catholic Church usually or always headed by a cardinal, a “prince of the church” (Portrait, chapter two). See next entry. 513.20: “priamite:” primate – a high church official 513.23: “reel at his likes:” rail at his looks. (“Reel” may be yet another dance reference.) 513.23: “Noeh Bonum’s:” compare “Aeolus:” “Nulla bona.” 513.24: “shin do:” shindy 513.25: “maideve:” maid of (honor) 513.28: “Ay, graunt ye:” I grant ye 513.30: “contempt of senate:” under American law, an offense, similar to contempt of court 513.31-4: “metandmorefussed to decide whereagainwhen to meet themselves, flopsome and jerksome, lubber and deliric, drinking unsteadily through the Kerry quadrilles and Listowel lancers:” clumsiness of elderly dancers: big (meta) footed (German “fuß”); unable to reliably rejoin their partners in contra dances; floppy and jerky, lubberly and unreliable, moving as if drunk 513.34: “fifth:” Ireland’s legendary fifth province, Meath 513.35-6: “Like four wise elephants inandouting under a twelve-podestalled table:” Joyce's Notebook VI.B.30 excepts this passage from a translation of Camille Flammarion's book on astronomy, in English Popular Astronomy: some Greek astronomers represented the earth as "a circular table borne upon twelve columns, others under the form of a dome placed on the backs of four bronze elephants." Also, ("wise") white elephants; tradition that elephants never forget 513.35: “inandouting:” probably sexual 514.1: "They were simple scandalmongers, that familiar, and all!:" for now, the tone seems indignant: they were scandalous, and - that familiar! - as in, you wouldn't believe how forward and fresh they were. 514.7: “wellfired clay was cast:” compare 5.26: “misfired brick.” In the earlier case, it can mean either that it was badly made (causing collapse), or thrown (causing injury); here, the opposite: well-made, well-thrown. 514.9: “Schottenly there was a hellfire club kicked out through:” response to “Suddenly some wellfired clay was cast out through.” “Schottenly” may be a influenced by Germanic ”schappsteckers” (.8). Also, Schlot is German for chimney, which seems to fit the context: (hell)fire, bricks, house, (“wasistas” (.10) – see McHugh) ventilating window, and (“Vulcuum” (.12)) Vulcan, with his “(envil” (.11)) anvil. 514.11-2: “Like Heavystost’s envil catacalamitumbling. Three days three times into the Vulcuum:” In the Iliad, Book I, a drunken Zeus throws Hephaestus (in Roman mythology, Vulcan) out of heaven; it takes a full day for him to fall to earth. The story reappears in Plato’s Republic and in Book I of Paradise Lost, where Vulcan, among the fallen angels (hence (“envil”) evil) is given his alternative name of Mulciber. “Heavystost’s:” tossed from Heaven. “Catacalamitumbling:” tumbling, stumbling (Vulcan is lame), calamitously; also the clattering of his hammer on the (“envil”) anvil. “Vulcuum:” Vulcan in the vacuum between Heaven and earth 514.11: "envil catacalamitumbling:" Again, Vulcan’s anvil. Also, as one of the fallen angels in Paradise Lost, evil 514.15: “Ninny, there is no hay in Eccles’s hostel:” confusing, but if there were an “H” in “Eccles,” it would be “Heccles’s hostel,” HCE’s Mullingar Inn, once a hotel. 514.17: “acquinntence:” perhaps a version of quintessence. 514.19-20: “a shuler’s shakeup or a plighter’s palming or a winker’s wake:” arousing an inattentive student; celebrating a wedding; awaking a sleeper - in all cases with the ringing of a bell, “catacalamitumbling” (.11-2). The second item is taken from Romeo and Juliet: “And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” The follow-up description (.22-29) combines a birth announcement, a wedding, and a wake. See next item. 514.22-9: “Mayhap…Agreest?:” again, a birth announcement (“A Little Bit Of Heaven…of a Tartar (Birtha)…Auspice for the Living…by the [father’s name].” Also a wedding (“Hora pro Nubis [“nubile:” a marriageable young woman]…birdsmaids…groom. Pontifical mess”). Also, a funeral and wake (“Hora pro Nubis…“Auspice for the Living” [a distortion of Dublin’s Hospice for the Dying])…Schott; (Finnegan’s) riotous wake: “Thundersday…Bonnybrook [as Donnybrook]…mess…riots.” The wedding is the main story here, and comes with the usual complications: the bride is apparently married already, the presiding (“river end” (.25-6)) reverend, besides acting as “guardian” for the bridesmaids, is ”deputiliser” for the groom, either taking the absent groom’s place (as in some marriages of state) or deputising some other man (who?) for the role. Neither bride nor groom is named. It might be possible for the same person to be both officiator and groom if the captain of a ship were also the one being married – as one of the washerwomen puts it, getting “captain spliced” (197.13). This is one of the possibilities in the Norwegian captain episode of II.3. 514.22-3: “Hora pro Nubis, Thundersday, at A Little Bit of Heaven Howth:” after Finn’s Hotel and Eccles Street, more echoes of the Joyce-Nora/Ulysses story: Nora in “Hora” (her birth certificate reads “Norah”); “pronubus” (Latin for “of or belonging to a marriage”) in “pro Nubis,” Thundersday/Thorsday/Thursday: Bloomsday (a Thursday, including a thunder storm, appropriate for Thor’s day); “Howth:” site of the end of Ulysses (and beginning of FW). 514.24: “Tartar:” a fierce, combative woman. At times, Nora could qualify; at times, Joyce seemed to want her to qualify. 514.24-5: “Sackville-Lawry and Morland-West:” again, as in Ulysses, hyphenated names sometimes signified aristocracy or pretensions to same. 514.28: “Schott, furtivfired:” 1. As McHugh notes, the Scottish uprising of 1745. 2. A shot fired from a Colt 45. For versions of “colt” in this sense, see also 84.23-4 and 352.9-10. 514.29: “No flies:” American slang: “No flies on x” – everything’s OK with x 514.29: “Mayhem:” response to “Mayhap” (.22), perhaps influenced by (“Bonnybrook” (.25)) Donnybrook, synonymous with riotous fighting 514.29-31: “Also loans through the post. With or without security. Everywhere. Any amount. Mofsovitz, swampstakers, purely providential:” compare to hostile account of Rudolph Bloom in “Cyclops:” “Loans by post on easy terms. Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. Distance no object. No security.” As identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022), Michael Mofsovitz was a Dublin money-lender. “Providential” was the name of a life insurance company. Rudolph was reputed to have sold lottery tickets; Mofsovitz takes bets for the ("swampstakers") Irish Sweepstakes. 514.32-4: “Flood’s…ars:” the interrogator has just referred to “loans through the post…Everywhere,” and this sequence sounds like examples of places all over the map. Some of the entries could be pub names. 514.33: “the pint with the kick:” OED first definition for “kick:” “an indentation in the bottom of a glass bottle, diminishing the capacity.” 514.35: “Scrapp:” as “Scott,” response to “Schottenly” (.9). “Scrap” in sense of fight: as in “Finnegan’s Wake,” a brawl ensues. 514.36: “The eirest race:” the most Irish race 514.36: “The eirest race, the ourest nation, the airest place:” given the swastika of .31 and overall violence of the scene, “Aryan” probably echoes through here. “Ourest” may implicate “Ourselves alone,” a common if inaccurate translation of “Sinn Fein.” 515.1: “culping:” compare 238.21 and note. 515.2: “ringing his belle:” “ring her bell” is Elizabethan slang for intercourse, here probably with someone’s “belle,” beautiful, wife. Also, the bell-ringing of “catacalamitumbling” is still going on, as usual by “goodman rued fox” (.2)) Fox-Goodman. 515.4: “No more than Richman’s periwhelker:” periwinkle/whelk is response to “Clam” (.3), the point being that he said absolutely nothing, that is, clammed up; see McHugh on .4 and .5. 515.11: “Secret speech:” he suspects the “disemvowelled” exchange of .5-6 is in code. Hebrew has no vowels. 515.12: “Secret speech Hazelton:” see McHugh. The main point here is not Hazelton/Hamilton’s “single” memorable speech but his complete silence, throughout his parliamentary career, thereafter – another example of someone being (see .4 and note) clammed up. Why Hazelton for Hamilton? Possibly, a parallel with professional cricketeer Edwin Hazelton, who scored a perfect half century in his first game but never equaled it later; there’s an Edwin Hamilton two pages previous (513.21). 515.12-3: “is good laylaw:” “Shillelagh law,” from “Finnegan’s Wake:” “Shillelagh law was all the rage” - that is, instead of regular legal proceedings, everyone started hitting everyone else with shillelaghs. From about this point until 532.6, the main story will be a brawling free-for-all, as remembered and described by Yawn, as acted out between Yawn and his interrogators, and as fought out between the interrogators themselves. There have been preliminary skirmishes: signalled by “Bonnybrook” (514.26), Donnybrook, “Mayhem” (514.30), “kick, and ”kickee” (514.32, 515.2). At 532.6 a version of HCE will emerge to enforce order and restore “Big big Calm” (534.8). 515.25: “massacreedoed:” misoccurred. (Not a real world, but a FW one: “missoccurs” (391.13) 515.27: “-Well, tell it to me befair:” “befair” is a (typically) sarcastic imitation of Yawn’s “afoul” (.26), in turn a slurred, because drunk, mispronunciation of “afore.” This begins a sequence in which the interrogator will take Yawn’s “I was drunk all lost life” as a cue to invite/coerce a stage-Irishman act. Yawn will oblige, sort of. 515.28: “that bamboozelem mincethrill voice:” booze: again, response to “I was drunk” (.26) 515.28: “mincethrill:” minstrel, both a (drunk) Irish minstrel and the Christy Minstrels, who will show up at .32 515.28-9: “Let’s have it, christie!:” Again, the answer will be as coming from one of the Christy Minstrels. 515.30: “I eyewitless foggus:” as a supposed eyewitness, I haven’t the foggiest. 515.32: “Masta:” combines “Mister Bones” (McHugh) with African-American “Massa:” compare 511.28. 515.33: “your impendements:” as impediments, perhaps referring to Yawn’s “bebattersbid” (.30-1), a stammering speech impediment like his father’s, though in this case caused by drink 515.33: “Blank memory:” his memory of his past life is a blank because (.26) he was drunk all through it. 515.33-4: “Blank memory of hatless darky in blued suit:” “Blank” from French blanc, white. “Darky” was an American term for African-Americans, who sang the blues (compare 176.33-4). The Christy Minstrels were whites in blackface. Bluing was used to make white clothes whiter. Aside from the equal-opposites black-white contrast, possibly a version not only of whites pretending to be black but of blacks trying to pass for white; compare 537.20-1, 537.24, and 538.9-10 and notes. Perhaps also an optical after-effect: FW has several instances where staring at (British) red leaves (Irish) green after-image, or vice versa. Staring at a “darky,” or at the dark blue end of the color spectrum, leaves a blank, white impression on the retina. 515.34-5: “You were ever the gentle poet, dove from Haywarden:” Vico calls Homer “the first historian of the entire gentile world who has come down to us.” Some of this sequence comes from the Iliad’s account of “these funeral games,” as conveyed by “homer’s kerryer pidgeons” (.23-4) – homing pigeons as homers. Doves and pigeons are closely related and (as in “Proteus”) sometimes conventionally interchangeable. Also, it is perhaps pertinent that, as Mink notes, Gladstone’s 1885 “Hawarden Manifesto,” sent from his Hawarden estate, “announced his partial support of Parnell’s demand for Ir[ish] independence” – a peace gesture. 515.35-6: “pratey man…Look chairful! Come, delicacy!” 1. More Irish stereotyping from the speaker: “pratey” is slang for potato. 2. “Chair” is French for meat. Like the English in Swift’s “A Modest Proposal,” the speaker is toying with the idea of the Irish as food – meat and potatoes as dinner and, because French, a delicacy. 3. Heavy sarcasm: you pretty, “nice” (.35), delicate man, like the grasshopper in the story! Compare note to 515.36-517.1. 515.36: “look chairful:” besides (McHugh) look cheerful! – something performers in minstrel shows were expected to do – be careful. Also, compare “He was sair sair sullemn and chairmanlooking” (416.4-5), a chairman being the head man at a gathering. 515.36-517.1: “Go to the end, thou slackered! Once upon a grass and a hopping high grass it was:” see McHugh. Like .36 (see note), recalls the story of the Ondt and Gracehoper (414.16-419.10), ant and grasshopper. The biblical verse commands a “sluggard” (“slacker” is a close equivalent) to learn about hard work from the ants. The interrogator is treating Yawn as an African-American or native Irishmen, two types often portrayed as lazy. 516.3-30: “-Faith…about:” much of this response is payback, probably with the expectation that the listener will not understand. Compare Lenehan in “Two Gallants:” “A shade of mockery relieved the servility of his manner. To save himself he had the habit of leaving his flattery open to the interpretation of raillery. But Corley had not a subtle mind.” Having been condescendingly addressed as a cartoon Irishman, he answers with a cartoon Englishman – clubman, toff, dressed accordingly, in a drawlingly (e.g. “awethorrorty” (.19)) “flea and loisy” (.9) free and easy manner, lording it over the natives with persnickety snipes at their clothes and manners. 516.3: “Meesta Cheeryman:” in the story of the Ondt and the Gracehoper (see previous entry), the Ondt is “chairmanlooking” (416.5) – comfortably masterful. Also compare 515.36 and note: response to “Masta” and “chairful” (515.30, .36). Also, addressing his interrogator as a juryman; there is still a trial in progress, and he is in the position of the defendant. 516.4: “badgeler’s rake:” McHugh notes Dublin’s Bachelor’s Walk. In “Sirens,” it pertains to the rakish bachelor Blazes Boylan, and the context here suggests something similar: “MacSmashall Swingy,” like Boylan in “Wandering Rocks,” is “got up regardless” (.5), dressed to impress, and seems very pleased with himself. For the record, there is the village of Badger’s Rake, in Cheshire, and according to one publication (A Practical Guide for Sanitary Inspectors, 1915), “badger” and “rake” are interchangeable terms for an implement used in cleaning drainage pipes. 516.5: “MacSmashall Swingy:” See McHugh note to .19. King Charles’ executioner swung an axe. 516.6: “cock:” cockade – worn by French revolutionaries. Cromwell’s regicides were revolutionaries. 516.6: “the Kildare side of his Tattersull:” compare Tom Kernan in “Wandering Rocks:” “Kildare street club toff.” Dublin’s Kildare Street Club was for upper-class gentlemen, including toffs. This confirms the picture of a rakish bachelor, “got up regardless.” Tattersall’s was originally a horse-racing center frequented by sporting gentlemen; probably by association, in Joyce’s time a “tattersall vest” was a sign of sartorial smartness. 516.7: “the horrid contrivance as seen above:” perhaps the “Cattelaxes”/battle axe mentioned in line .5, above 516.8: “delicately:” response to “delicacy” (516.36) 516.7-8: “whisklyng into a bone: bone whistle: prehistoric instrument 516.8: “the Wearing of the Blue:” as McHugh notes, the Irish patriotic, and anti-English, “The Wearing of the Green,” changed to blue as the political opposite: the “true blue” which, as in “Nestor” stands for English protestants 516.9: “his perusual:” phrase: as per usual 516.11-2: “telling him clean his nagles and fex himself up, Miles:” given the presence of one Joyce, an executioner, (see .5, .19 and notes), it would balance things out if this referred to Myles Joyce, the subject of James Joyce’s essay “Ireland at the Bar” – the Irish victim of a grossly unjust trial and execution. 516.13-4: “to take the coocoomb to his grizzlies and who done that foxy freak on his bear’s hairs:” as in (see McHugh) grizzly bear. Again (see previous entry), ironic, since “Swingy” here is the one wearing a “bugsby”/busby (.9), commonly equated with the military headdress known as a bearskin. (Also, given the extreme bugsiness of said “bugsby” – bedbugs, fleas, lice, ants, and weevils (.9-10) – it’s also ironic that he should be the one so vocal about hygiene and grooming.) “Foxy:” perhaps because, at least proverbially, fox hides are/were known for mange and foul smell. 516.15: “half hang:” .11-2: “see note to .11-2. Myles Joyce was hanged. 516.17: “counting as many as eleven to thritytwo seconds:” (McHugh and Oxford editors change to “thirtytwo.”) Perhaps a variant of the parental standby, “I’m going to count to three.” 516.18: “wann swanns wann:” see previous entry. If I’m right about this being a 1-2-3-or-else parental count, then the parent in question is being remarkably lenient here: Wuuunn, wuuunnn, wunn… 516.19: “my awethorrorty:” see McHugh: Cornet George Joyce’s words to Charles I. Compare .18: “his “browning,” that is, his pistol: Joyce pointed to this as his “authority” for making the arrest. The description of him as “MacSmashall Swingy of the Cattelaxes” with his “horrid contrivance” (.5, .7) surely comes from the tradition, probably but not definitely wrong, that George Joyce was Charles’ executioner. 516.19: “foul Fanden:” foul fiend – perhaps from King Lear III.vi. 516.22: “who burned the hay, perchance wilt thoult say:” see McHugh. Hay is stacked in ricks, and in the 19th century rick-burning was a form of Irish protest against land-owners. The anti-royalist Cornet Joyce has become an enforcer of the new order. “Perchance wilt thoult say” is more sarcastic cross-examination, something like “Perhaps this will refer your memory.” 516.23: “he’d kill all the kanes kings:” again (see .5 and .19 and notes): the tradition that Joyce was the headsman who killed King Charles. As for the plural of (“kanes”) kings, he was later reported to have publicly desiderated the killing of the regicide Cromwell, and was of course the sworn enemy or Charles II, who in turn tried, unsuccessfully, to have him apprehended and executed. 516.23: “the Price of Patsch:” the Prince of Peace (Jesus), with overtone of “Paschal,” Easter 516.23-4: “Patsch Purcell’s:” post parcel 516.25-6: “raging with the thirst of the sacred sponge:” compare the narrator of “Cyclops:” “I’ve a thirst on me I wouldn’t sell for half a crown.” 516.25-6: “sacred sponge:” the sponge soaked with vinegar and rubbed into Christ’s fifth wound. Until the fall of Constantinople, it was kept as a relic at Santa Sofia, now Hagia Sofia. 516.27: “nonplush:” nonplussed 516.27: “Turbot Street:” in Joyce’s time, Talbot Street was in Dublin’s red light district. Changed to “Turbot,” probably, because he has come up from the ocean “depths” (.25) 516.30: “him new nothing about:” it’s taken a while – he’s been avoiding the subject – but at the end of the rigmarole, he is being a useless or (probably) resistant witness who “[k]new nothing about” it. 516.31-2: “moor and burgess medley:” (Thomas) Moore’s Melodies 517.2: “scum:” scrum, as in (see next entry), rugby 517.3: “clever play in the mud:” facetious sports-page language for violent game – here, rugby and boxing. Compare “Cyclops” account of prize fight: “knockout clean and clever.” 517.4-6: “that upon the resume after the angerus how for his deal he was a pigheaded Swede and to wend himself to a medicis:” one boxer taunting – “warning” (.10) – the other: after the next round, its beginning signaled by a bell whose sound resembles an angry angelus, you’ll need to go to a doctor. Compare .13 and note. (Oxford editors have “medicins” for “medicis.”) 517.5: “angerus:” Angelus bell – another memory of bell sound; compare 514.11, .19-20, 515.2. Also (see previous entry) the bell signaling the end of a round of boxing. Also, “angelic warfare” (516.36), between angry angels. Also, see 53.17 and note: with a possible allusion to the once-ubiquitous painting by Millet, the hearing of the ringing of the angelus as a signal to pause in the business of the evening. 517.7-8: “turniphudded dunce:” response to – and correction of – “pigheaded Swede.” Expression: “dumb Swede.” A swede is a variety of turnip; its bulb is the “head.” (According to Eric Partridge, a “large Swede turnip” resembles “a man’s head.”) Yawn is, rather punctiliously, testifying that this is a more accurate version of what the man really said. 517.8-9: “bowlderblow:” bowler – either hat or sportsman 517.8-9: “jokes bowlderblow the betholder with his black masket off the bawling green:” according to an interview with Joyce’s father, “there was a bowling-green at the back of his hotel [the Mullingar House] and I was considered a celebrated bowler.” “Jokes:” Joyce 517.9: “black masket:” Charles II’s executioner wore a black mask. See notes to 516.5, 516.19, and 516.23, above. Also, see next entry. 517.11: “mardred:” martyred. Perhaps another reference to Charles I, to his mourners the “royal martyr” 517.13: “smutt and chaff:” dirty words and taunting words. Again, trash-talking between the opponents. Also, literal mud and chaff, sticking to the fighters as they roll in the ditch. See next entry. 517.14: “rolled togutter into the ditch:” recalls the ditch/sunken road of the Waterloo sequence (8.9-10.24) 517.16: “teeth in the back of his head:” phrase: ”eyes in the back of his head.” Occurs in “Scylla and Charybdis.” Your annotator is mystified as to how this answer has anything to do with the question. 517.17: “to shine his puss:” given soap references to follow, to wash his face. See entry after next. 517.19-20: “worsted…bester:” since being “worsted” is the same as being “bested,” the “bester” is the one who won. In “Ithaca,” Molly’s lover Boylan is a “bester,” that is (OED) a “person who gets the better of others by dishonest or fraudulent means: a swindler.” 517.19-20: “Leaverholma’s…sunlife:” Lever Brothers made Sunlight Soap. 517.20: “save sunlife:” contraction of “save his own life.” Also, compare 30.13, “saving daylight.” Both seem to echo “Daylight Savings Time,” instituted early in the century. See note to .24-30. 517.21: “Asbestos:” response to “the bester” (.20) 517.22: “forte carlysle touch breaking the campdens pianoback:” Carlisle was a brand of piano. Pianists are often said to have a “touch.” Playing too “forte” – slamming down on the keys – is imagined here as breaking the piano in two. 517.24-30: “- Are you…it!:” This exchange about the time draws on three variables – Daylight Savings Time (see note to .20, above) Dublin’s Dunsink time, twenty-five minutes (and twenty-three seconds) before Greenwich Mean Time, and different time zones. “About half noon,” as McHugh observes, means both 12:30 in the British Isles and 11:30 in Germany. (Confusingly, 12:30 in England would actually be 1:30 in Germany.) The approximation implied in “about” allows enough leeway for the time to be simultaneously “twelve thirty” (.29) and about 11:30 – say, 11:32 (.30). Also, the park encounter being remembered here occurred at noon, therefore, according to one possible calculation, (very) approximately 11:30/11:32. To further complicate, Ireland went off Dunsink Time and onto Daylight Savings Time in 1916, a move with widely noted political implications, and has been back and forth since – which perhaps helps explain how the initial park encounter, a request for the time of day, could lead to a fight. The Battle of Waterloo began at or about 11:30 a.m. (Your annotator has tried, without success, to locate any account giving the time as 11:32.) One other note: as best I can determine, in Ireland, Daylight Savings Time, often called “Summer Time,” was usually initiated in mid-April – too late to make much difference to events, or accounts of events, on or around March 21-2, my candidate for FW’s default date. Also, as if all this weren’t enough, see next entry. 517.25: “Grinwicker time:” as GMT and Earwicker’s time, both English (Greenwich) and (Chapelizod) Irish, which (see previous) were sometimes the same, sometimes not. 517.26: “quadrant:” sailors used quadrant (to measure angle from horizon of sun or star) and (“chronos” (.36)) chronometer in combination to determine location. 517.31-2: “That rising day sinks rosing in a night:” Homer’s “rose-fingered dawn;” rose-colored sunset 516.33: “Amties, marcy buckup!:” “say auntie” is an occasional variant on “say uncle,” meaning to give up 517.33: “Amties:” amities 517.35: “A triduum before Our Larry’s own day:” Our Lady’s Day, a.k.a. Lady Day, the Feast of the Annunciation, is March 25. (Three days – a triduum – earlier would be March 22, which, again, your annotator believes is the FW date right now.) 517.36: “chronos:” in context, ship’s chronometer. See note to .26. 517.36: “my man of four watches:” see McHugh. Joyce wrote a poem calling himself “the bloke with the watches.” The fourth watch of the night is pre-dawn – between three and six a.m. According to Joyce’s May 21, 1926 letter to Harriet Shaw Weaver, this would be the fourth watch of Shaun and would begin at page 555. 517.36: “dath:” a death watch is the time in attendance on someone condemned to death. 518.1: “- Dunsink, rugby, ballast and ball:” see McHugh. Following four “watches,” “Dunsink,” “ballast” and “ball” all relate to telling time in Dublin. “Rugby:” the “Rugby clock,” from 1927 on, a time signal received from the Greenwich Royal Observatory, broadcast worldwide from a radio station in Rugby, England. Also, associative link: Rugby football – ball – ballast 518.2: “for the loathe of Marses:” response to “At mart in mass” 518.8: “heavenly militia:” not a phrase in Milton, but one often applied to the Paradise Lost rendition of the war in heaven, with its “ambiviolent” “virtues” and (“principality”) principalities “struggling diabolically,” “pro” and “con.” “Devil’s own dust” (.6) is a fair version of the PL’s account of gunpowder. Compare 519.6-7. Paradise Lost is intermittently present from here until about halfway through the next page. 518.10: “the will of Whose B. Dunn:” “whose will be done” 518.9-10: “with my tongue through my toecap on the headlong stone of kismet:” kissing the Blarney Stone is one thing; this is something like French-kissing it. Yawn at this point, too eager to please, is overdoing things. 518.10: “headlong stone of kismet:” compare 5.17. Along with Blarney Stone and Long Stone, the Kaaba stone, widely believed to have been a meteorite, having “hurtleturtled out of heaven,” arrived “headlong” from the sky. “Kismet” is originally Arabic, therefore associated with Muslim/Orientalist culture. 518.12: “arms’ parley:” the 1918 armistice (517.33); see third note to .17. 518.12: “meatierities forces vegateareans:” meteorite refers to “headlong stone” (.10), versus earth-huggers (terraineans) 518.15: “illegallooking range or fender:” “or fender:” offender. This goes back to the conflicts of Book I, where the “fender” (29.30, 63.7) is an offender, and, especially to 84.33-4 (see note), which seems to link a fireplace fender to some kind of firearm. Here as there it is a shape-shifter: turfing iron, revolver, briar pipe, watering can. 518.16: “Engineers:” artillery officers or those in charge of military equipment; this sense of the word was widespread in World War I. 518.17: “briars:” shillelaghs; also the pipe in contention during the fight in the park, first mentioned at 35.11 518.17: “revalvered:” revolver 518.17: “weaponswap:” Waffenstillstand, German for armistice, especially that of November 11, 1918. Compare 588.5, see next entry. 518.19: “They did not know the war was over:” stories of soldiers who continued to fight and die after 11:00 a.m. because news of the Armistice had not come through – another case (see 517.24-30 and note) when differences about the right time of day could have serious consequences 518.19-20: “berebelling or bereppelling:” possible overtone of Vico’s tag “pia et pura bell.” See .33 and note. 518.24: “For he was the heavily upright man, Limba romena in Bucclis tucsada:” he was well-built, and his body – his limbs - looked good in a tuxedo. 518.26: “Yet this war has meed peace:” “They have made a desert and called it peace:” Galcacus the Briton, quoted in Tacitus, about the Roman Empire 518.28: “The mujic of the footure on the barbarihams of the bashed:” the feet of an advanced civilization kicking the behinds – hams – of beleaguered aborigines. Given the high concentration in the vicinity of matters military and German (the “gutterish” – guttural” language and its “pootsch punnermine” (.25, 519.3), for instance), I think this should call up a picture of goose-stepping Brown Shirts, their trampling boots sounding the music of the future, as many in the time (first appearance, in transition, was 1929) thought they did. (In “Circe,” “the music of the future” is Bloom’s phrase for his fantasized establishment of the “New Bloomusalem.”) 519.32: “Handwalled amokst us. Thanksbeer to Balbus!:” Jesus: He walked amongst us. Also, thanks to Balbus for building that wall, making it possible to play handball. 518.33: “O bella O pia! O pura!:” see McHugh. Response to “berebelling or bereppelling” (.19-20) 518.35: “All the same you sound it would clang houlish:” “klang associations:” the association of words and phrases based on sound, not meaning. A major feature of this chapter. 519.1-2 (“But…sum”) will be yet another example. May also be another reference to the Vulcan’s/Mulciber’s envil catacalamitumbling” of 514.11-2. Oxford editors have “howlish” for “houlish.” 518.35-6: “like Hull hopen for Christians:” compare “Wandering Rocks” dialogue: “Hell open to christians they were having, Jimmy Henry said pettishly, about their damned Irish language.” Here as there, controversy and commotion, leading to violence. Also, considering Paradise Lost presence (see .6-7 and note), Hell is open and hoping to catch some fallen souls. 519.2: “whole the sum:” response to “All the same” (518.35) 519. 2: “vigil:” given echo of “Hell open to Christians”/Europeans in preceding line, Dante’s Virgil 519.4: “hog and mine:” compare 455.9-11. Beginning of Gaelic for “May God bless you” 519.5: “larry’s night:” compare “that laurency night of star shootings” (22.12). August 10, “Saint Lawrence’s Night,” also known as “the night of the shooting stars,” corresponds to the Perseids meteor shower; here we have “the artillery of the O’Hefferns” (heavens) (.6)). Also see 517.35 and note. Also, “artillery of the heavens” was a common poetic phrase for thundery weather; a variant occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.” 519.6-7: “the artillery of the O’Hefferns answering the cavalry of the MacClouds:” Milton, Paradise Lost: “Each cast at th’other, as when two black Clouds, / With Heav’n’s Artillery fraught, come rattling on / Over the Caspian.” see note to 236.19-20. In line with other Miltonic imagery or language, for instance the angelic “virtues” and “principalities” of 518.5. Also, possibly, the feud of the Hatfields and McCoys, featured, although under different names, in Huckleberry Finn 519.6-7: “the cavalry of the MacClouds:” according to the Gospel of Luke, “the sun was darkened” for three hours during the crucifixion on Cavalry. 519.7: “fortey and more fortey:” “fortey: forte: musical direction: loud. So: loud and louder. Also, more testimony about the torrential rain, like Noah’s forty days and forty nights. The musical sense of forte probably refers to the accompanying thunderstorm. 519.8: “cock and biddy story:” “Biddy” is a popular name for hens, including FW’s, the one who digs up the letter. So, male cock and female hen. (The previous line has an allusion to Scheherazade’s 1001 tales – one of FW’s analogues.) 519.10-3: “This ri. This is his largos life, this is me timtomtum and this is her two peekweeny ones. From the last finger on the second foot of the fourth man to the first one on the last one of first:” game played by adults with baby’s digits, similar to “This little piggy went to market.” “Largos,” the largest one, is presumably the big toe and/or thumb; “peekweeny ones” the little toe/toes/finger/fingers. Also, possible allusion to Jesus’ “The last shall be first.” See note to .11. 519.10: “largos:” largo: musical direction: very slow. Compare note to .7. 519.11: “peekweeny:” p(s) and q(s). Also, pickanniny. In some American versions, the jingle went “This little nigger went to market….and this little pickanniny ran all the way home.” Probably a response to “coon” in “concoon” (.3) 519.14: "Finny:" as in slang sense for finish or finished. 519.15: “fere it is:” there it is: American readers may not be aware that this is a common English expression indicating finality, sometimes in a dismissive tone of voice. Yawn’s message is: Silly or not, it’s true. 519.16: “guid:” a Scottishism for good. See .19 and note. 519.18: “asleep at the wheel:” not paying attention 519.19: “thathens of tharctic:” “The Athens of the North” can be Edinburgh as well as Belfast. (Neither is literally within the Arctic Circle; both are closer to it than are either London or Dublin.) The Belfast connection (see next entry) helps identify the speaker as Matthew. Oxford editors have “Thathens” and “Tharctic.” 519.21: “last foot foremouthst:” a (garbled) response to “From the last finger on the second foot,” etc. (.11-12). 519.21: “yur moon was shining:” again: “yur” spelling is a sign that the speaker is Matthew. (Although sometimes – see next entry – it can alternate with “you”/”your”) 519.23-5: “moon was shining on the tors and on the cresties and winblowing night after you swearing to it a while back before your Corth examiner, Markwalther, that there was reen in plenty all the teem?:” refers back to exchange of 501.36-502.1: “Was there rain by any chance, mistandew? [new paragraph: Yawn answering] “Plenty” – just reiterated in his ill-advised exuberance about Noah’s (“fortey and more fortey” (.7)) forty days and forty nights. With all the rain you’ve just testified to, how could you have seen the moon as well? In retrospect, this shows that 1. the examiner was Mark, from Cork, and 2. that he was leading the witness into a contradiction, as part of a good cop/bad cop routine with Matthew. Panicky at being caught in a contradiction, Yawn reacts with a (very) garbled defense (519.26-520.21) which nonetheless has a kernel of truth: the whole weather issue, now the basis of the indictment against him, came about from a conspiracy of his interrogators. (Crux: although Yawn has certainly gone along with the version of events in which rain, complete with thunder and lightning, figures prominently, I at east can find no place in the last few pages where he or anyone else mentions the moon. This seems to be a reprise of the trial scene of I.4, where the witness is similarly caught out (88.2-3) on his inconsistent testimony about the moon. Also compare 347.7-8. These scenes may recall a famous incident from the legal career of Abraham Lincoln, in which Lincoln used an almanac to show that the witness could not, as he claimed, have seen the alleged crime by moonlight. 519.24: “Markwalther:” both referring to Mark, the interrogator from Munster (compare previous entry), and addressing Yawn as Make-water, making water, that is, a urinator. The scandal in the park always or almost always includes urination, whether overseen (the girls) or practiced (the accused) or both. 519.26: “grand duly:” response to “grand jurors” (.19) 519.26: “duly affirm:” familiar language for oaths, for instance before a (“grand duly”) Grand Jury 519.26: “Robman Calvinic:” Calvinism because of Ulster’s (Matthew’s) Protestantism. Combined with Roman Catholic, a classic example of FW’s coinciding contraries. “Robman” may include Catholic feelings that, along with England, the north has a history of exploiting them. 519.32: “forty ducks indulgent:” forty days of rain: Noah’s flood. Rain is proverbially duck weather. “Indulgent” echoes “deluge.” 519.33: “Aunt Tarty:” as Antarctic (McHugh), a response to “tharctic” (.19) 519.34: “sousers:” souse: drench. Also, a drunk 519.35-6: “the split hour of blight when bars are keeping so sly:” given context (for instance “sousers”) probably midnight, an hour after official closing time, when any establishment serving drinks would have to be secret. On the other hand, read as the split hour of night, midnight, when one day splits into the other 520.4: “the bad place:” euphemism for hell; here refers to public toilet. (Portrait’s version of hell, in chapter three, is basically that of a huge toilet.) See next entry. 520.5: “ejaculating about all the stairrods and the catspew swashing his earwanker:” see next entry. Aside from the main one, two other reasons Father McGregor wanted access to the public toilet: to get out of the pouring rain, and to wank off in private 520.6: “thinconvenience:” convenience(s): euphemism for public toilet. (Compare 219.2.) This one - very inconveniently, when he most needed to use it – was locked up because “putrenised by stragglers abusing the apparatus” (.7-8), it had been made putrid by the defecations etc. of straggling strangers; the etc. may include (see previous entry) self-abuse. See 524.1 and note. 520.10: “be Cad, sir:” by God, sir! 520.13: “Mrs Lyons:” would be Mark (Lyons’) wife. As the wife of Mark of Cornwall, Iseult – a mésalliance. 520.13-7: “who prophessised…Brown child:” roughly: she promised to contribute money for a mass to be performed for the souls of Africans. (Compare the “African Mission” mentioned twice in Ulysses.) 520.14: “three shielings Peter’s pelf:” see McHugh: three shillings, one penny 520.16: “saints withins:” apparently an interjection, without quotation marks or other indications, from someone besides Yawn himself. It happens again at .20: see note. 520.16: “midnight mask:” midnight masque 520.16: “of a:” on 520.20: “heehaw hell’s flutes, my prodder again!:” just to make things even more chaotic, the ass decides to have a say. (A “prod” is used to control some animals, including donkeys; a “prodder” is either the thing itself or the person who uses it; the ass is tired of being prodded. ) 520.23: “brothers be for awe:” response to “heehaw…prodder” (.20) 520.24-6: “So let use off be octo while oil bike the bil and wheel wang till wabblin befoul you but mere and mire trullopes will knaver mate a game on the bibby bobby burns of:” I tentatively suggest that the speaker here is not (as McHugh has it) Yawn, but one of the other three, probably Mark, in a response to Matthew, who will answer with a sneer at his “southerly accent” (.30). See next entry; it seems unlikely that Yawn would speak of himself as one of the “octo.” (Still, his voice is, increasingly, getting mixed up with those of his interrogators.) 520.24: “let use off be octo:” Let us (the four men) be off on our (“octo”) eight legs 520.28: “fyats:” from here through p. 522, Matthew seems to be arguing alternately/simultaneously with Yawn and the other three inquisitors; hence the plural. 520.28-9: “yur second sight noo:” a sarcastic version of something like: Second thoughts now? So you’ve changed your story, eh? 520.29: “noo:” now. Scottish pronunciation – which, again, often overlaps with Matthew’s Ulster. A significant number of Ulster’s inhabitants have origins in Scotland. 520.29: “recant that all yu affirmed:’ that is, both recount what you have already testified and recant, repudiate, it at the same time. No way that Yawn can win this 520.29-31: “all yu affirmed to profetised first sight for his southerly accent was all paddyflaherty? Will ye, ay or nay?:” again, as at 519.23-5, .28-9: are you going back on the testimony you gave to Mark? (From Cork, to the south?) So it was all rubbish? (Cork’s Munster is the province with the Blarney Stone.) 520.34: “rubricated annuals:” lubricated, ruby-red anus, which he is ready to kiss. See next entry. Compare the Gripes’s “Culla vosellina,” vaselined anus (154.29). Also, compare 568.23-5, where a Dublin dignitary “shall receive Dom King at broadstone barrow meet a keys of goodmorrow on to his pompey cushion. Me amble dooty to your grace’s majers!” – that is, besides ceremonially presenting him with the keys to the city, he will give him a kiss on the plump cushions of his arse. As in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room,” the local notables are all to eager to oblige “Dom King” and other powerful figures. Part of Yawn’s problem is that he is so anxious not to offend his interrogators that he will go along with whatever they want him to say. 520.35: “R.C.:” arse: takes off from – a response to - “annuals”/anus. Also, Matthew’s hostility toward the Roman Catholicism of the other three provinces. 520.36: “my labrose lad:” McHugh: labrose as Latin for “with large lips” – answering “holyhagionous lips” on “rubricated” (lubricated) anus (.34-5) Oxford editors have “labbrose.” 520.36-521.2: “how very much bright cabbage or paperming comfirts d’yu draw for all yur swearin? The spanglers, kiddy?:” Oxford editors have “papermint” – dollars, from the American mint. Accusing Yawn of receiving money (“cabbage:” greenbacks; “spanglers:” coins) from American sources. Peppermint comfits: red and white of flag’s stripes; “spanglers:” “Star-Spangled Banner:” white stars on blue field. As usual, “yu”/“yr” signals that the speaker is Matthew, from Ulster. By and large, Irish Americans contributing to political causes in Ireland supported southern, anti-Ulster organizations, including the I.R.A. Matthew is accusing Yawn of taking foreign funds to pursue what he considers traitorous activities. 521.4: “yous Essexelcy:” your excellency. (Oxford editors have “Yous.”) Traditionally a form of address for high-level foreign officials and diplomats 521.4-6: “Essexelcy…Golden Bridge’s…Lucan:” Essex, Goldenbridge, Lucan: names of three Dublin-area bridges. See next entry. 521.5: “Golden Bridge’s:” given American context (greenbacks, Star—Spangled Banner), probably San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge as well, with “Golden” as another innuendo that he has sold out for American money. Compare 71.11, 433.32, and 493.26-7, with notes. 526.6: “glass of Lucan:” Lucan wine, from Italy’s Basilicata region 521.7: “a highlandman’s trousertree:” a trouser tree is a piece of furniture for the purpose of holding trousers. U.S. patent dates from 1912. Compare “clotheshorse” of 522.16. See McHugh: since highlanders traditionally wear kilts, not trousers, presumably worthless or close to it. A defensive example of how, even if he did receive some American money, it amounted to “nada” (.4) 521.7: “three crowns:” perhaps a response, or just variation, on the mysterious “three shielings” (shillings) of 520.13. A crown is five shillings. 521.7-8: “three crowns round your draphole:” Dunville’s Three Crown Irish Whiskey, around since well before Joyce’s time. “Draphole” in this sense would be the mouth as a hole in which to drop a “dram,” but see next two entries. 521.8: “draphole:” drop hole: outdoor latrine. See next. 521.8: “(isn’t it dram disgusting?):”a dram – a drink - in or in the vicinity of a latrine’s hole? Disgusting? Well, yes. Compare the “two fellows” in “Lestrygonians” who would “suck whiskey off a sore leg.” 521.10: “Come now, Johnny!:” may be directed to both Yawn (Shaun/John) and Johnny MacDougal. (Also, for good measure, Yawn has just been accused of being an American stooge, and “Brother Jonathan” was a personification of America.) Again, the identities have become scrambled, both among the interrogators, between the interrogators and Yawn, and within Yawn himself, who sometimes has to disavow the “something inside of me talking to myself” (.26). In Yawn’s last response, Matthew from Ulster was apparently associated with the “three crowns” of the Munster flag (.7: McHugh); here (.10-15) the addressee is John from Connacht but the place-names are from Dublin. (McHugh has the speaker here as Matthew; I incline to Luke. 522.4-11, continuing this line of questioning, is addressed to both Yawn and Matthew.) 521.10-1: “Pro tanto quid retribuamus?:” as McHugh says, the motto of Belfast, but “quid” is also British slang for a pound. Again, Yawn is being accused of accepting money for nefarious purposes: Just how many quid were we (you) you paid and repaid? 521.12: “fines times:” equal-opposites: fine times; being fined for having those fine times. Also, see second entry for .7: a crown is five times the value of a shilling. 521.14: “lame…gait:” a lame, halting gait, perhaps from too much drinking 521.15: “Bushmillah!:” Bushwa! American slang for “Rubbish!” (Earliest Google Books occurrence is 1912.) The next three sentences should accordingly, once again, be sarcastic; the fourth, “Give me fair play,” is similar to today’s “Give me a break!” 521.17-8: “At the Dove and Raven tavern:” aside from (McHugh) the Noah reference, yet another drinking establishment where Yawn, according to his accuser, has been drinking up his ill-gotten gains, wetting his whistle. 521.17-8: “To wit your wizzend:” compare “the wine’s at witsends” (170.13). He’s at wit’s end, not from too much exasperation but from too much drinking. FW words resembling “wit” and “wizzend” frequently accompany urination, and the next line is “Water, water, darty water!” 521.21: “What harm wants:” given McHugh’s detection of Chapelizod in “Up Jubilee sod!” (.19), probably newspaper magnate Alfred Harmsworth, born in Chapelizod. Occurs several times in FW. He usually got what he wanted, and by Joyce’s standards, and FW testimony, it usually proved harmful. 521.23: “tristy:” trusty. Exactly what Ghazi Power was not 521.24-5: “gaspower or ill-conditioned ulcers:” Ulster, Yawn’s main antagonist, as usual being ill-conditioned - rude and pushy. Also, Glasheen, on Frank “Ghazi” Power: he “showed a ‘bullet wound’ in his leg which turned out to be a blind boil or ‘illconditioned ulcer.’” 521.30: “hulstler:” hustler: in sense of relentless go-getter, this fits the Irish image of Ulstermen. 521.32-6: “But…Buy!:” McHugh has Yawn as the speaker; to me it sounds more like the voice of the three southern provinces, joining forces against Ulster. It is “Three to one” (.31), but on the other hand Ulster has the money (“Tell Queen’s road I am seilling…Buy!” says one of the three, in line with Joyce’s longstanding conviction that the Irish could always be counted on to sell out to the highest bidder) and the backing of Britain. Accordingly, the three, when challenged, back down. 521.32-3: “What do you have?:” What’s wrong? 522.1: “grill:” perhaps the grill of the confessional 522.1: “chuse:” pronunciation of “choose” goes with the extra hard “yu” which in FW characterizes Ulster. 522.4: “Northern Ire:” as in Ire-land, land of anger. Joyce made this pun in a poem. 522.3-11: “Gently…you?” see note to 521.10: as at 521.32-6, the speaker here is probably Luke. He is answering the Matthew of .1-2, who addressed him, threateningly, as “yu bullock,” the bull being Luke’s apostolic insignia. In return, he makes nice (“Love that red hand,” perhaps with insinuative undertone of “red-handed”), and re-directs the discourse back to Yawn. 522.8: “Crimeans with the fender, the taller man:” reprises report of park encounter: compare 62.28, 63.10-11, and, as McHugh notes, 82.4. “Crimeans,” besides crimes/criminals, would also seem to bring in the Russian General episode of II.3. The Russian General was definitely tall; his “moral turpitude” (.14) was primarily excremental in nature. 522.9-10: “as skirts were divided on the subject:” compare 65.5: “skirt” as slang for young woman. The two young women of the park scandal had different opinions “on the subject” of the offence. 522.10-1: “You did, you rogue, you?:” showing joshing admiration for his way with the ladies: you rogue, you, with your two “skirts!” 522.12: “You hear things:” in other words, the answer is that someone told me something that might or might not be true. 522.12: “serially:” response to “serious” (.9) 522.12: “bushes:” recalls the “ombushes” (7.35) at the beginning of the “Willingdone Museyroom” (8.9) sequence – here as there, as witnesses to the action, sometimes also the girls in the case 522.16: “the hindlegs off a clotheshorse:” a clotheshorse is an article of furniture for drying clothes. The “off” may indicate that the “mortal turpitude” in question is (compare 449.22-4 and note) similar to that of being a hedge thief – someone who steals clothes drying outdoors. In “Oxen of the Sun,” Punch Costello’s checkered past includes “fecking maids’ linen or choking chicken behind a hedge.” 522.16-7: “Did any orangepeelers or greengoaters appear periodically up your sylvan family tree?:” were any of your ancestors either policemen (Peelers) or (greengrocers) in trade? - that is, declassé? Given aristocratic overtones of “sylvan family tree,” highly sarcastic: the “periodically” may suggest intermittent illegitimacies. In the Irish song noted by McHugh, “The Peeler and the Goat,” a policeman enforcing the penal laws against Catholics threatens to arrest a goat for vagrancy and have him transported. (In defense, the goat claims he was just being active, outdoors, during the mating season.) Joyce’s addition of orange vs. green gives a North-South spin to the story. See .19 and note. “Sylvan” and (see next entry) the response of silver probably sets the stage for the return of Sylvia Silence (.23, 523.2). 522.18-9: “family silver:” response to “sylvan family” (.17). Also, as heirloom silverware embossed with a family’s initials or some such, a sign of old-money status. See next. 522.19: “nass-and-pair:” perhaps chaise-and-pair, conferring carriage-trade status. (Although, see McHugh: an ass and pair would take it down several notches.) 522.19…23: “Hah!...Hahah!:” another unbidden eruption from within Yawn – again, probably from the ass. See next. 522.22: “a bone moving into place:” expression: a “bone in the throat,” meaning a source of continual annoyance. Here, the sense is more literal – an obstruction that is impeding his speech. 522.23: “Hahah!:” beginning of Silvia Silence’s “Have…” (523.2-4; compare 61.6-7 - the “something inside…talking to myself.” 522.26: “I have something inside of me:” not a coincidence that this occurs after (see McHugh on “snapograph” (.21)), the subject of x-rays has been introduced. Yawn becomes a “third degree witness” (.27), newly visible in three dimensions, including his interior, whether anatomically or (“psoakoonaloose” (.34)), psychoanalytically. 522.27-8: “But this is no laughing matter:” see entry for .23: because “Hahah!” is conventionally the sound of laughter 522.28: “Do you think we are tonedeafs in our noses:” synaesthetically speaking, we can smell you as well as hear you – and neither experience is pleasant. 522.29-30: “Can you not distinguish the sense, prain, from the sound, bray?:” in general, a very good question throughout this chapter, with, up until 532.6, its meanings repeatedly being generated out of mis-hearings. Also, a classic psychological distinction, between sensation and perception – between what the ear hears and the sense the brain (see McHugh) makes of it. Again, “bray” indicates that the “heehaw!” of 520.20 was either an interjection by the ass or a case of its being channeled by Yawn; see also note to .19…23. 522.29: “prain:” pray 522.31: “expert:” both McHugh and Oxford editors have “exvert” – a made-up word to pair with (“invertedness” (.31)) invert 522.31: “steatopygic invertedness:” compare, for instance, 350.13-5. Anal homosexual sex 522.36: “pigeonstealer:” someone who steals someone else’s racing pigeons 523.2-4: “Have you ever weflected, wepowtew, that the evil though it was willed might nevewtheless had somehow on to good towawd the genewality?:” Oxford editors have “evew” for “ever.” The return of Sylvia Silence (61.6-11). Probably a response to “sylvan” (521.16). In reply to demand for an example, Yawn is showing that (see .34-5) he can psychoanalyze himself by calling up another personality from his subconscious. Compare 337.16-7: “Suppwose you get a beautiful thought and cull them sylvias sub silence.” Sylvia’s thought here – that good can come of evil – is, if not exactly “beautiful,” certainly nice, not to mention a version of FW’s felix culpa. Also, at 61.7-11 she recommended that HCE be prosecuted for homosexuality, and here (522.26-7), just before her appearance, charges of homosexual behavior have been added to the indictment. 523.5-10: “A pwopwo...sinning:” both in speaking voice (lisp) and thought (exonerating the “deponent”), the interrogator’s words have apparently been influenced here by that of the last speaker, Sylvia Silence. Earlier, she asked us to consider whether “sheew gweatness was his twadgedy” (61.7), here, whether he is more sinned against than sinning. 523.5: “talking of plebiscites:” perhaps taking off from Sylvia’s “the genewality” (.4), the generality, in sense of majority. That at .24 “plebiscites” will have become “fleabesides” suggests some condescension, as in Hamlet’s “caviar for the general:” they are, after all, plebes. (As McHugh notes, Hamlet is also quoted at .13.) 523.7: “deponent:” throughout, Yawn has been the deponent. 523.8: “the man from Saint Yves:” perhaps because, like the man from Saint Ives with seven wives, etc., Yawn has shown himself to contain multitudes. “Yves” rather than “Ives:” Yawn’s first answer was “Y?” (477.26). 523.10-12: “for if…owntown eyeballs:” a deliberately vague Heracleitian-Comtian-Bergsonian explanation and exoneration of the accused, or, come to that, any accused. Even with our own two eyes, we don’t know who we are, because we’re always becoming someone else. 523.12: “is becoming in its owntown eyeballs:” i.e. in the eye of the beholder, us 523.13: “strong form:” I can’t find the exact meaning, but “strong form” is a term that crops up frequently in reports of horse racing. Helps account for .14-8, following, which is based on a newspaper’s description of a thoroughbred. See next entry. 523.14-5: “neverreached:” never reached the finish line: thoroughbred or no thoroughbred, this hardly sounds like a recommendation. 523.15: “sieur:” besides sire, French soeur, paired with “brother” (.14). The horse in question is both a brother and a sister. (It also – see .17 and note) invites inversion, recalling earlier diagnosis of “invertedness” (522.31), homosexuality. The note of sexual deviance – homosexuality, bisexuality, androgyny – continues. 523.16: “groomed…bred:” groom and bride 523.17: “inversion:” response to “invertedness” (522.31) 523.22: “Ladiegent:” more androgyny 523.22: “asseveralation:” asseveration by several persons 523.23: “Frisky Shorty, my inmate friend:” on their introduction (39.13), Frisky’s intimate (also, here, inmost) friend was named “Treacle Tom,” who will be addressed as 526.8 as “Toomey lout, Tommy lad.” Here as there, they were preceded by testimony about matters relating to horse-racing – on their introduction, as patrons of the track. Here as there, they represented the voice of (“plebiscites” (.5), “fleabesides” (.24)) - the common people, the common people in this case being pretty seedy. In I.2 they become part of the rumor mill about HCE’s transgression that will culminate (pages 44-7) in “The Ballad of Persse O’Reilly,” a continuation of which will show up at 525.21. 523.24:” “fleabesides:” again, echoes “plebiscites” (.5). A fleabag establishment would be one frequented by paupers (.25). 523.26: “Easehouse:” house of ease: euphemism for privy. Also, east house, paired with “West Pauper Bosquet” (.25). Mink suggests that it may refer to a Chapelizod pub, the Bridge, which is to the east of the Mullingar Inn. 523.27: “a wee chatty with our hosty in his comfy estably:” the chat is about all the things wrong with HCE. Again, the “Hosty” of I.2 is his inveterate enemy. If he is also the “host” of a rival pub, that may help explain his animosity. (Complication: “hosty…comfy estably” also brings in HCE. This would not be the first time in FW that “Hosty” seemed to be his dark double.) 523.27: “estably:” slangy abbreviation for establishment – here, a hotel with bar; also, possible overtone of (also slangy) “eatery.” McHugh’s recommendation that “glad Easehouse” be relocated to follow “estably” would not seem to change the overall sense much. 523.28: “middlesex:” more androgyny 523.28-30: “flu…dumps:” Twelve ailments; twelve is usually the number of ALP’s customers. The “burman” (.31) barman makes it baker’s dozen. 523.31: “tour of bibel:” reading of the Bible, to determine right or wrong of the case. See 524.11 and note, 524.18 and McHugh’s note to “lectionary.” Throughout the pair seem to be overdoing their piety: their “tour” was also of drinking – bibulous – establishments, and their spelling of “bible” goes with “libel.” 523.32: “ethical fict:” actual fact, ethical fiction – something like what Bloom calls a “Pious fraud but quite right.” 523.34-5: ”epscene [obscene, epicene] licence before the norsect’s divisional respectively as regards them male privates:” privates as in private parts. (Army privates would not normally be specified as male.) This continues the charge of homosexuality lodged at 522.30-1. 523.36: “concomitantly:” not the kind of word one expects from someone like this, the soldier friend (probably Treacle Tom) of Frisky Shorty. In spots he either blends with or mimics the legalistic language of the four inquisitors when they speak conjointly. 523.36: “all common or neuter:” perhaps continues earlier comment about nouns (.10-11) 524.1: “public exess [McHugh corrects to “excess”] females:” prostitutes. Also “public access:” official (“metropolitan” (.2)) phrase for public lavatories and other facilities. The scandal in the park and the confusion over “thinconvenience” (520.6) are being commingled in memory. It is possible that the whole business started just because the women’s public lavatory was out of commission, so that the girls in the case had to resort to the bushes. 524.1: “fillies:” Americanism for attractive young women; continues thread of 523.14-9 524.3: “arbitrary conduct:” compare 99.9-10: “harbitrary conduct with a homnibus” 524.5:” “sparkers’:” American slang for snogging couples 524.5: “succers:” suckers: American slang for babies. Given context, probably a sexual innuendo as well: sparkers and suckers: heterosexual and homosexual canoodlers 524.8: “Mr Coppinger:” perhaps with reference to the 19th century cataloguer of incunabula (books printed before 1501; literally, Latin for cradle) Walter Coppinger. FW’s Coppinger references, as Glasheen says, “fasten on cradle-filling.” This Coppinger, someone with an unhealthy interest in the subject of “early bisectualism” (.12), will introduce us to one J.P. Cockshott (.14), someone with the same predilection (.36), along with a worrisome interest in naked children. 524.8: “fire fittings:” given legal context, forfeitings. Also, as McHugh notes, a fender is a fire fitting for the fireplace, along with andirons and so on. Testimony about a “fender” featured in accounts of the FW’s park encounter since 63.7 and has recently cropped up again (518.15, 522.8). 524.11: “what the good book says of toooldaisymen:” “the good book” is a popular term, mainly American, for the Bible. “Toooldaisymen:” too old – but daisymen? “Daisy” currently can have homosexual connotations, and according to Green’s Dictionary of Slang the phrase “daisy chain,” meaning “a circle of three or more people, hetero- or homosexual, all linked physically in mutual sex acts,” dates from 1902. (Also, in David Copperfield, Steerforth’s nickname for the younger David, to whom he clearly feels sexually attracted, is “Daisy” - perhaps an indication that the innuendo goes back a long ways.) 524.12, .36: “early bisexualism:” biology texts of Joyce’s time refer to fish as examples of “hermaphroditism.” Psychology texts, both before and after Freud, commonly describe infantile and pre-adolescent sexuality as bisexual or polysexual. More androgyny 524.16: “Cockshott:” cock-shot: ejaculation. The “little salty populators” resulting (.32-3) are spermatozoa. According to reports, semen tastes like sea water. Also, “cockshut:” twilight 524.18: “hereckons:” given “windwarrd eye” (.19), hurricane. Oxford editors have “he reckons.” 524.20: “cunifarm school of herring:” “cunifarm,” as the incised V of cuneiform letters; cunt-like (another female-male pairing, here with “herr” in “herring”); the V-shape of a school of fish. 524.20: “supernatently:” Atlantic herring spawn at water surface. So, they are swimming (Latin natare) up above – super. Mr. Coppinger’s/Cockshott’s point of view sometimes seems to be from underneath. (II.3 begins after Shaun/Yawn has sunk to the bottom.) 524.22-4: “Butting, charging, bracing, backing, springing, shrinking, swaying, darting, shooting, bucking and sprinkling…with the twinx of their taylz:” as McHugh notes, the Zodiac, in order, starting with Aries, the “Butting” ram. (That is, the FW year, at least here, begins on March 21, usually the first day of Aries and Nora Barnacle’s birthday: Nat Halper suggested that the “Tristram” of 3.4 signaled that FW was beginning with Aries.) “Sprinkling” is the water-carrying Aquarius, and “twinx” is Pisces, traditionally (though not, today, always predictably) represented as a twinned pair of fish, their tails approximating a mirror-image ying-yang pattern. Note the “w,” “x.,” “y,” and “z” in “twinx of their taylz.” 524.25: “yon socialist sun:” because when Joyce was writing the sun rose from the direction of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics? The next chapter, beginning at page 555, will be in the half-light of dawn’s breaking. 524.26: “gut me:” fishermen gut fish. A fish-related way of saying something like “Damn me, but…” 524.27: “pot em:” pickled herrings are sometimes potted. See next entry. 524.28: “gillybrighteners:” shiny-bright fish gills 524.29: “smolty:” smoky: kippers (.26) are smoked herrings. Also, compare 7.17, 170.28. 524.32: “flossity:” silkiness 524.34: “upandown dippies:” compare 65.32-3. 524.35: “pickpuckparty:” picnic party. Also, compare 278.12-3 sounds of dripping and rippling water:” “pick, peck…pack, puck.” 524.35: “wriggolo:” regular 525.1-2: “hidebound homelies:” as to be found bound within (524.11) his Bible, presumably bound in hide. The attitude toward the “good book” (524.11) has undergone a change. 525.3: “bracksullied twilette:” brackish (water). Also, the toilet’s water, which is often sullied. (Compare “cultic twalette” (344.12).) Also, black-sullied – darkening - twilight. 525.3-5: “The use of cold water, testificates Dr Rutty, may be warmly recommended for the sugjugation of cungunitals loosed:” the traditional remedy of cold showers for subduing lust, that is, ruttiness - but see next three entries. 525.4: “testificates:” testicles: “testify” originally meant swearing an oath while grabbing the testicles 525.4: “Dr Rutty:” rut, as in “in rut,” sexually aroused 525.4-5: “sugjugation of cungunitals loosed:” subjugation of congenital lust (McHugh) but, equal-oppositely, also the subjunction/conjunction/conjugation of loosed genitals, the testicles included, when in rut. Also, likely overtone of cunnilingus: at .8 he will be accused of being “absexed” with “mackerglosia,” that is (McHugh) having a big tongue. 525.6: “Tallhell:” response to “Tolloll” (.5) 525.6: “Errian coprulation:” Arian: one who does not believe in the consubstantiality of the Trinity 525.6: “coprulation:” copulation has certainly been on the agenda recently, but the last instance was in the water of a (“twilette” (.3)) toilet, hence (see McHugh) copro, dung. That “love has pitched his mansion / In the place of excrement” is, for FW, a founding doctrine. What is generally called coprophilia is evident in some of Joyce’s 1909 letters to Nora, and certainly a recurring fact in FW, especially in accounts of the park scandal. Also, the population of (“Errian”) erring Erin 525.7: “Pelagiarist!:” Pelagians do not believe in original sin. Along with “Montgomeryite”s (.7) they are being charged with dangerous free-thinking, which has led to the kind of free-for-all “coprulation” just condoned, rather enthusiastically, from about 524.5 to 525.5, by someone rejecting orthodox morality as “hidebound homelies” (.1-2). 525.7: “Montgomeryite!:” Mink lists this as a possible allusion to Dublin’s Montgomery Street (“Monto”), the entrance to Dublin’s red light district. Given the charge of being “absexed” with “coprulation,” the identification seems highly probable. “Montgomery” definitely has this meaning at 58.26. 525.8: “Y’are absexed:” well, yes, he was. (McHugh and Oxford editors both have “obsexed:” obsessed with sex.) The preceding started as a report on polymorphous perversity but got more and more into the spirit as it went on. 525.8-9: “mickroocyphyllicks:” probably echoes necrophilia, certainly echoes syphilis. Given context, “Phyllis,” a conventional name for a beloved woman in pastoral poetry, may be present too. Also, see McHugh: to have a (“mackerglosia”) big tongue in a microcephalically small head, with brain proportional: someone who keeps on talking even – especially – when he doesn’t know what he’s talking about 525.10-1: “Wait now, leixlep! I scent eggoarchicism. I will take you to task:” more suspicion of dubious doctrine. “Eggoarchicism” would be the ultimate extreme in free-thinking: since only my version is right, only I rule. “Eggo-“ instead of “Ego’” because the testimony was about spawning fish in a “ruttymaid fishery” (.13). “Leixlip,” salmon-leap, is a destination for spawning salmon. 525.12: “Was it esox lucius or salmo ferax?:” who in this female fishery was the (male) boss of the show – the king fish? The answer will be a mix of Henry VIII and Charles II as “Magnam Carpam” (.20), Big Carp, or HCE as “Human Conger Eel” (.25). 525.12-3: “taxing…ruttymaid:” one of the agreements of Magna Carta, at Runnymede, was to limit taxes – feudal payments – to the king. Runnymede, on the Thames, is a “water meadow” – a likely place for fish and fishing. 525.13: “ruttymaid fishery:” response to “Dr Rutty” (.4). The spawning fish at Leixlip are frantic with rutting. (Your annotator was once manning the helm of a sailboat sailing through the Atlantic’s Georges Bank, site of the world’s richest fishing fields. All at once the sea came noisily alive with wall-to-wall, ship-to-shore, spawning fish. “Frantic with rutting” is not hyperbole.) Also, Runnymede, which will show up at .19, preceded at .18 by the (“ribald baronies”) rebel barons who confronted King John there. (“Ribald:” they’re swept up in the orgiastic scene, too.) 525.14: “Lalia Lelia Lilia Lulia and lively lovely Lola Montez:” with all the frenzied spawning going on, the notoriously much-partnered (and, certainly, lively and lovely) Lola Montez emerges as an example of a rutting-mad “ruttymaid” (.13). The sequence “Lalia” etc. tracks the vowels in alphabetical order except for transposing “u” and “o,” maybe so that the range can begin and end with alpha and omega. (See note to .34.) Given the context, the seven “L”s are a version of FW’s seven rainbow girls: the speaker is the same version of Yawn who was so “absexed”/”obsexed” with all the pretty little fishes. At .17 we will hear of a merry monarch who beget children in all “seven parish churches.” 525.15: “Gubbernathor!:” gubernator: governor 525.16: “fry:” baby fish 525.16: “marrye monach:” merry monarch: McHugh has Henry VIII; the epithet was also applied to Charles II. Although both were notorious for their libidos, only the latter fathered multiple illegitimate children – “Spawning ova and fry” (.16). (On the other hand, Henry was the (“marrye”) many-marrying one.) 525.18: “ribald baronies:” robber barons (or baronies). Also, see note to .13. 525.18: “dans, oges, and conals:” Called by Bloom a “breedy” man, Daniel O’Connell, like Charles II, was believed to have fathered any number of bastards. What with these three prolific breeders, the promiscuous Lola Montez (.14) has more than met her match. 525.19-20: -Lift…zoo?:” Fisherman talk, including traditional exaggeration: “Lift” the fish for a “landing!” It’s (of course) a (“vesh vish”) fresh fish, a thundering huge one, big enough for a zoo. 525.19-20: “For a runnymede landing:” Runnymede, reachable by water, is along a bank of the Thames. 525.21-6: “There’s…Eel!:” along with other recyclings, the return of Persse O’Reilly (.16) and Hosty (.19) retrieves a new verse from the loosely-structured “Ballad of Persse O’Reilly” (44.24). 526.21: “an old psalmsobbing lax salmoner fogeyboren:” a solemn old sentimental psalm-singing fogey, with possible overtone of Solomon, adjusted to the fish-catching action under way. 526.23: “freck:” fresh, including sense of sexually forward 525.24: “after every long tom and wet lissy:” more “bisectualism” (.12), or rather bisexuality: swollen with “spermin spunk” (.23), he’s eager to jump any sexually aroused (male, erect; female, wet) fellow organism accessible. Oxford editors have “lizzy” for “lissy” – in either case, a version of Issy. 525.25: “Human Conger Eel!:” compare 165.21: “congorool teal!” – kangaroo leap; kangaroo tail. The connection is that a spawning salmon is also a leaper: compare .10-1 and note. 525.26: “Up wi’yer whippy:” fly-fishing rods, then as now, are frequently described as whippy – thin, light, highly flexible. Oxford editors have “wi’ yer.” 525.29: “Pull you:” response to “Bullhead!” (.28). One fisherman to another: one has played the fish, the other now pulls on the line. 525.29: “Longeal:” response to “Conger Eel” (.26). Oxford editors have “Longeel.” 525.29-30: “he’ll cry before he’s flayed. And his tear make newisland:” see next entry. Finn McCool made the Isle of Man by scooping - tearing - out a giant plot of earth from what is now Lough Neagh and dumping it in the Irish Sea. This time, the reverse: as “the great fin may cumule” (.31), his tears of pain will inundate and surround a stretch of dry land, turning its highest prominence into an island. (Something similar happens in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; the Alice of Through the Looking-Glass will show up on the next page (526.32).) 525.30: “before he’s flayed:” A cringe-inducing passage. Inedible otherwise, eels are flayed while alive. (Note to self: never eat eel.) “Like a flayed eel” is an expression for someone or something thrashing wildly around. 525.32: “Manu ware!:” McHugh identifies as Vaivasvata Manu – the Indian Noah. Overtone of Man of War battleship 525.33: “stood into:” nautical term meaning “headed toward.” Also, perhaps overtone of “cockstand;” see next entry. 525.33: “Dee:” delta: vagina. Original meaning of “Dee” is “goddess.” Also (see previous entry) a river has a mouth. Scotland’s River Dee runs into a harbor at Aberdeen; a brief Scottish passage (see McHugh) follows at .36. That he “stood into” the delta after he “missed her mouth” suggests an exceptionally clumsy version of this sequence’s variations on the theme of oral sex. 525.33-4: “Romunculus Remus:” Uncle Remus 525.34: “plying the rape:” playing the rake, that is, being a womanizer 525.34: “so as now any bompriss’s bound to get up her:” after being deflowered, she’s fair game for any man. (Compare Corley in “Two Gallants:” “There was others at her before me.”) “Get up her:” have intercourse with her: compare Molly’s “Penelope” fantasy about being a man so that she could “get up on a lovely woman.” 525.35: “pool her leg:” Dublin harbor’s Poolbeg Lighthouse. Also, to “pull” someone’s “leg” is to deceive them as a joke. 525.35: “bunk:” Americanism for bullshit 525.35-6: “skid like a skate:” both the fish and an ice skate, both slithery (526.1) on the surface 526.2: “polster:” bolster 526.7: “mugs:” Americanism for faces 526.11: “Grenadiers…anglers:” identifies and addresses the (“Toomey lout, Tommy lad” (.8)), tommies – Angle/English Grenadiers - who have just shown up. “Anglers,” of course, also goes with the fishing thread. 526.12: “compresent:” primarily a philosophical coining of the early 20th century, here being applied to theology – the nature of the interrelationship of angels (.11) and of the Trinity (.14-6). 526.15: “Wisdom’s son:” in Biblical writings, Jesus 526.15: “Folly’s brother:” a phrase from Burton’s Arabian Nights, glossed as “very fool.” Also, in the Bible, Achitophel means “brother of folly.” Achitophel was part of a coup attempt against David; when it failed, he hanged himself. Also, “Son of wisdom” has a number of applications. In Proverbs, it signifies a farmer who wisely plants and harvests in the right seasons – an ant, not a grasshopper. 526.17: “You’re forgetting the jinnyjos for the fayboys:” the subject has changed from women to men (the soldiers). (Beginning at .20, Johnny will return the topic to women; at 527.3, we’ll hear from Issy.) Probably continues innuendo of homosexuality; jinnies are girls (8.31, etc.); by at least 1928, “fay” could mean gay. 526.17: “jinnyjos:” Jimmy Joyce. As often (see next entry), a James will be followed by a “John.” 526.18: “Walker John:” from John of Patmos (.17) to Johnny of Connacht. Since in the Mamalujo quartet he corresponds to the John of the Gospels, this plays on the tradition that the same John wrote Revelation. At 479.9, he remembers his Connacht home as a place for outdoor activities, including “strolling and strolling.” 526.20: “Naif Cruachan!:” As noted by Brendan O Hehir: royal seat of Connacht – John of Connacht is speaking – and home of Queen (Anglicized) Maeve, Ireland’s much-married, promiscuous warrior queen and sworn enemy of Ulster. 526.20: “Woe on woe…Woman:” drawing on an old folk-etymology, that “woman” derives from “woe to man.” 526.20-1: “Woman will water the wild world over:” 1. In FW, women are liquid and men are solid. 2. Whatever else it entails, the park scandal includes girls – the jinnies, the “two stripping baremaids” (.23) - making water. 526.21-34: “And…love!:” Both McHugh and Oxford editors have this as a new paragraph, beginning with the dash that signals new dialogue. Apparently, “Naif Cruachan!...over” was the answer of John from Connacht, then followed by testimony from one of the “Grenadiers” (.11) who witnessed the park scandal. It will certainly bear out John’s remark about “Woman…water[ing] the wild world over.” Part of the transition from the preceding has been, naturally enough, from the subject of fish to the subject of water: all the watery spots named in the paragraph would have been favored locales for fresh-water fishing. 526.21: “folley:” response to “folly’s brother” (.15) 526.22-3: “furry glans:” definition of “glans:” “the rounded part forming the end of the penis or clitoris.” Here, the latter 526.23: “stripping baremaids:” besides (McHugh) strapping barmaids, maidens stripping bare. The “Strip Teasy” of 527.9 follows through. 526.23: “Moth:” Miss 526.24: “hand to dagger:” “hand to heart” would signal an oath of honor; this signals an escalation - a readiness to fight if one’s word is questioned 526.25: “rawkneepudsfrowse:” frowsy frau – here, the “mother” just mentioned (.24) 526.25-6: “superflowvius heirs:” compare “furry glans” (.22-3). In “Circe,” the mannish Bella Cohen’s “superfluous hair” is her “sprouting moustache.” In “Penelope,” Molly thinks that women get moustaches from practicing oral sex on men. Here, is it a sign that the woman in question, possibly as part of the aging process, has let herself go, becoming a frowsy frau. 526.26: “begum:” “By gum!” An Americanism. Also, high-ranking Indian lady 526.27: “king of cloves:” either/both king of clubs, king of (loves) hearts. Perhaps also the shamrock, which resembles a playing-card club: compare 222.29 and note. We have just recently (.22) heard of the “trefoil,” another name for shamrock. 526.27-8: “the most broadcussed man in Corrack-on-Sharon:” Bloom, in “Eumaeus,” on the Irish, on Jesus: “mostly they appeared to imagine he came from Carrick-on-Shannon or somewhereabouts in the county Sligo.” As the alpha male of the region, he is a favorite with the ladies, casting his seed broadly (the original meaning) and resented accordingly – broadly cussed. 526.28: “Rosecarmon:” from the opera: Carmen and her rose – another cautionary tale about women 526.29: “drowned in pondest coldstreams of admiration forherself:” Oxford editors have “for herself.” Narcissus (and Echo) story. Pertinent that Pond’s Cold Cream was also called “vanishing cream:” compare 301.3-5, 528.10-3. Introduction of Narcissus establishes (“inversion” (.35)) mirror-image effects of .29-36; “inversion” in sexual sense has been in play since 522.31. Issy as Narcissus is looking at herself in a lake – specifically (.33) Lough Shieling, in the center of Ireland’s lake district. 526.29: “pondest coldstreams:” inclusion of Coldstream Guards in this cold pond: the speaker is one of the soldiers introduced at .8. 526.30-1: “bachspilled likeness:” McHugh: spelled backwards, mirror image. FW’s girl’s name is usually “Issy,” but sometimes a version begins with “Y:” here, on the contrary, “Ys” (527.1) will signal a case of spelling backwards. See next entry, and entry for .34. 526.32: “salices:” Alice (see McHugh) shows up in connection with looking-glass strain. 526.32-33: “salices and weidowwehls:” willow trees and weeping willow trees, wailing like widows 526.34: “Oh, add…All of her own:” omega-alpha, alpha-omega, spelled backwards and forwards, because of mirror. 526.34: “shielsome:” response to “Lough Shieling’s” (.33) 526.34-5: “Nircississies are as the doaters of inversion:” that is, in doating on their own image, narcissists doat on inversion. Also, daughter replacing mother: “-cississies” signals a mirror-doubled Issy; in lines 35-6 a (small) pool will become a (larger) lake. Again, in Joyce’s time, “inverts” were homosexuals, generally considered to be narcissists whose self-infatuation prevented them from loving anyone of what FW calls the “apposite sex” (436.17). A mirror image is, of course, an “inversion” of the original – right side becoming left. 526.35-6: “Secilas through their laughing classes:” In (“laughing classes”) Latin classes, “Cecilia” would means “blind” – an equal-opposite pairing with (“laughing classes”) looking glasses. Also, in a I.6 Q & A, the “maggies” “love laughing” (142.31). 526.36: “becoming poolermates:” polar mates, as contrasted with polar opposites. (Another looking-glass reversal. Oxford editors have “becombing,” which would go with the Narcissus theme (see .34-5 and note) – looking in the mirror, she’s grooming herself.) 527.1: “Ys?” legend of Breton city of Ys, sunk beneath the waves; at times the bells of the churches can be heard. Theme of Debussy’s La Cathédrale Engloutie. Compare 601.4-6 and note, and see next entry. 527.1: “Gotellus!:” Go tell us! Either/both an encouragement to continue, reminiscent of the I.8 washerwomen asking to hear more about the young ALP’s deflowering, or a sarcastic rejoinder. Also, OED has “gothele” as an archaic word meaning to “make a low rumbling noise, as bubbles rising through water,” which would fit with the “Ys” story. 527.3: “Listenest, meme mearest” etc:” Issy talking to Marge in the looking-glass: “me,” doubled. “Listenest” resembles the Nymph’s faux-classical words to Bloom in “Circe:” “Mortal!...Nay, dost not weepest!” 527.3-4: “harrowd, those finweeds:” finweed is restharrow, an herb found in coastal areas. Here, apparently refers back to the “salices and weidowwehls” (526.32-3). Why not just harrow but (“harrowd”) horrid, from which one Issy will seek comfort in another Issy’s “bosom?” Perhaps because (see note to 523.32-3) they were weeping, wailing widow-willows. The next sentence (“So sorry you loost him, poor lamb!”) would seem to confirm. 527.4: “Come rest in this bosom!:” “bosom of the deep” is a common poeticism for bottom of the ocean. Less reassuringly, “resting” in it usually implies having drowned. 527.5-6: “a very vikid girl to go in the dreemplace and at that time of the draym:” the events of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland turn out to be a dream, during the day. 527.7: “under the dark flush of night:” compare “nighthood’s unseen violet” (403.22). Ultraviolet equal-oppositely combined with (“flush”) infrared. The point is that even if she were invisible (see 526.29 and note, .12-3 and note), she shouldn’t have done it – in this case, 1. Gone to the outdoor toilet (hence “flush”), with its “draym” (.6) 2. flirted with (“grandpassia” (.7-8)) an old man. One of many versions of the park scandal 527.7-8: “grandpassia! He’s gone on his bombashaw:” as McHugh notes, a reprise from the Peaches and Daddy Browning story of I.3. (According to .10, this was at the time of her first menstrual period – so she was very young.) 527.8: “bombashaw:” OED dates “bimbo,” as meaning an attractive but unintelligent young woman, from 1929. 527.8-9: “Through geesing and so pleasing at Strip Teasy up the stairs:” compare 109.19: “upstheres.” Editorial comment: I think this supports my thesis that Issy’s words are being heard coming down from her upstairs bedroom – sometimes down the chimney passage shared with her parents on the lower level, sometimes, as here, from her room’s open door, down the stairway. Compare in-house acoustics of 558.22-566.27. 527.9: “Strip Teasy:” response to “two stripping baremaids” (526.23) 527.9: “boys on the corner:” corner boys: young layabouts 527.12-3: “invinsibles…coldcream:” invisibles: again, cold cream was also (526.29) called “vanishing cream;” in FW (as at 528.11) it can make its wearer invisible. 527.12: “Eulogia:” as in eulogy. Again, one of the Issys as widow: see note to .3-4. 527.12: “apposition:” acquisition 527.13: “coldcream:” compare 526.29 and note: recalls the Coldstream Guards of the soldiers’ testimony, the cold stream of Issy’s rivers and lakes 527.13-4: “from Boileau’s I always use in the wards after I am burned a rich egg:” reversed, or simply mixed-up, syntax. Eggs, both white and yolk, have long featured in remedies for skin condition (as McHugh notes, Boileau’s is a chemist/druggist) – here, for burns, probably sunburn. (Most writers would probably have set off “after I am burned” with commas.) For “wards,” compare 550.21-2: “clubmoss and wolvesfoot for her more moister wards.” 527.14: “rich egg:” an especially nutritious egg laid by a well-fed hen. Distinguished by thickness of contents. 527.16: “veritiny:” very tiny: the hands are small – “Chic hands.” Joyce was proud of his dainty hands and feet. 527.19-20: “I’ve two of everything up to boyproof knicks:” Her “charmeen cuffs” (.18) get her thinking about how bodily things come in twos: feet, knees, thighs, up to the knickers (as in pair of), the last-stand “boyproof” resort in resisting male advances. In “Penelope” Molly Bloom remembers being frustrated by a pair of “closed drawers” which, unlike the “open” variety, had to be taken down before she could urinate. Also, as the mistress not the maid, Issy has two of everything that Madge has. 527.20: “winning in a way:” a catty putdown of another woman’s looks – in this case, Marge’s. Compare next two entries. 527.20: “my arms are whiter:” than yours. Issy to Marge; Iseult of the White Hands to Iseult of Ireland. The former is fairer. 527.21: “Fair hair, frail one:” pale (and blonde) women were proverbially frail, also (see .23-4) especially susceptible to harmful effects of the sun’s rays. 527.21-2: “O be joyfold!:” O be joyful! – a popular religious exclamation, addressed to those in the (“-fold”) congregation 527.22-4: “Mirror…fire!:” As with Chaucer’s Prioress, a nun’s tokens of sanctity consort with vanity: mirror, tapered white fingers, earrings, a veil to preserve fair skin. 527.22: “Mirror do justice:” “Mirror of Justice” is one Catholic term for the Blessed Virgin Mary. So, as McHugh notes, is “tower of ivory,” the phrase behind “taper of ivory.” Also, an address to the mirror: Do justice (to (meme” (.21), me, me). 527.22: “taper of ivory:” poetically, thin white (and high-class) lady’s fingers were commonly compared to tapers and/or ivory. Looking in the mirror, she is admiring what she sees: fingers, “hoops of gold” (probably earrings), “veil.” (“Heart of the conavent” (.22-3) may be a religious/ornamental necklace or brooch.) 527.23-4: “My veil will save it undyeing from his ethernal fire:” In “Ithaca,” sunlight reaches Earth through the bioluminescent ether, and, at least here, the same goes for FW. Also, see .21 and note: the paler the skin, the more need of a veil against the sun. “Undyeing:” dyed cloth, of a veil for instance, can become faded if exposed to sunlight. Gist: although she has heard, in the convent, about hell’s eternal fire, her main concern is that it might make her skin less attractive. (Gerty McDowell has similar concerns in “Nausicaa.”) Her nun’s veil conveniently offers protection. Also, as Blessed Virgin Mary, she will protect him from the fires of hell. 527.24: “meme idoll:” my idol, ideal; my (miming) doll, me me 527.24-528.13: “Of course…(I’m fay!”): It was “viry vikid” (.5) of her to go to a certain place and it was “downright verry wickred” (.24-5) of him to meet her there. I hypothesize that the place in question is a confession box. Church law dictates that nuns confess to male priests, and Joyce typically thinks of such encounters as being sexually insinuative. Her memory/fantasy of the meeting features his lips, collar, “bust,” and the words between them, and may end with his presiding over her wedding to someone else (“Father Blesius Mindelsinn” (528.8) includes Mendelson’s Wedding March) while she is still secretly thinking of him and their shared secrets. At 527.35-528.3 he promises to fix things with the prioress, “mother Conception,” so that no one in the convent will know “what passed our lips or.” 527.25-6: “Bortolo mio:” words, I think, heard as being addressed to the listener, Issy’s father / father confessor. In (see McHugh) The Barber of Seville, Bortolo is the senex who wants Rosina for himself, blocking the course of true (young) love. 527.26: “peerfectly appealing:” equal-oppositely, perfectly appalling 527.26: “D. V.:” in this mirroring sequence, “D. V.” will be reciprocally responded to with “V. D.” (529.25) – God’s grace with venereal disease. 527.26-7: “my lovebirds, my colombinas:” McHugh, but not Oxford editors, has “dovebirds” for “lovebirds.” Makes sense: the term “lovebirds,” though usually applied to a species of parrot, is sometimes used for mourning doves, members of the (Columbidae) dove family. One of many instances where Issy (“I’ve two of everything” (.19)) is equated to a pair of something, usually more or less vertical. Compare the “ii” of 240.30: according to Joyce’s notes two small birds, with the elevated “..” – another Issy signature – signaling their bedtime prayers. 527.27: “Their sinsitives shrinked:” compare 238.8-9: “Next to our shrinking selves we love sensitivas best.” The former is based on an ad for BVD underwear (which, at the time, was probably subject to shrinkage) - “Next to myself I like BVD best.” (First appearance: 1924.) In part, a response to “D.V.” (.26). See also 238.1. 527.28: “My rillies:” Amaryllis: flower; woman’s name, in pastoral love poetry signifying sweet simplicity 527.29-30: “(Mon ishebeau! Ma reinebelle!):” split and reversed, Isabelle and rainbow. Also, of course, courting beau and belle. (According to McHugh, a somewhat altered version of the “lovebirds”/”dovebirds” (see note to .26-7) passage should be moved down here to precede “How me adores eatsother simply (Mon ishebeau Ma reinebelle!” (.29-30). This would, again, make sense: these are the words the mutually adoring pair are saying to one another.) 527.31: “muskished:” musky, mushy, much-kissed 527.31: “my little pom got excited:” clitoris, presumably. In Ulysses, it is twice called a “button.” Elsewhere, FW variants sometimes signal French pomme, apple 527.32: “turned his head:” to turn someone’s head is to attract their (favorable) attention in an instant. Typically, a priest in a confessional has his face at a right angle to the penitent’s, but she wants this one to turn his head, towards her. 527.33-4: “lord so picious, taking up my worths ill wrong:” Lord, he’s so suspicious, taking all my words in the wrong way. “Futuous” (.34), deriving as it does (see McHugh) from Latin for “I copulate with,” may be an example; also “Conception” and “glorious lie between us” (.35). 527.34: “my futuous:” my future, and fatuous, husband, with, again, overtone of French foutre, fuck: my future fatuous fucker 527.35: “Still me with you, you poor chilled:” By the hypothesis given above (527.24-528.13), this is the priest in the confession box talking to the penitent, Issy. 527.35: “you, you:” answers “meme,” me me, of .24. A major FW motif, first sounded as the “mishe mishe to tauftauf” of 3.9-10 527.35-528.3: “Will make it up with mother Conception and a glorious lie between us, sweetness, so as not a novene in all the convent loretos, not my littlest one of all, for mercy’s sake need ever know what passed our lips or:” Again: either he will take steps to hush things up or she herself will keep it secret from the novices in the convent by telling a lie to the prioress. Although in the Catholic Church women were/are not authorized to hear confessions, this may reflect the “Mother Confessor” office for Vestal Virgins. 527.36: “mother Conception:” A prioress or superior would be addressed as “Mother.” 528.1: “sweetness:” like “Bortolo mio” (.25-6) and “Sir” (.3), addressed to the listener 528.1-2: “not my littlest one of all:” as usual, Issy is the first of FW’s rainbow girls. 528.3-4: “Clothea wind!:” close the window! (Oxford editors have “Clothe a.”) 528.4: “Banish the dread!:” for instance (“Clotheo”) Clotho, one of the (dreadful, frightening) Fates. Given context, perhaps also closing the grate in the confessional 528.4-5: “Alitten’s looking. Low him lovly! Make me feel good in the moontime:” Aladdin’s lit lamp - lower it, lover! I’ll feel good in the moonlight. (The lamp is probably the moon, lit up, remembered or imagined as seen through the window just now shut.) 528.5: “oranged:” bride’s orange blossoms. See next five entries. 528.5-6: “as oranged at St Audiens rosan chocolate chapelry:” compare 235.25-236.7. 528.6: “diamants:” Diamond Wedding Anniversary – the 60th. Compare .9 and note. 528.6-7: “blickfeast after:” traditional wedding breakfast, held after the ceremony. Also, German blick fäst: fixed attention 528.7: “catclub to go cryzy:” see McHugh: maids of honor – Issy’s leap-year contingent - crying at the wedding. (Also being catty, probably out of envy.) Also, allusion to George Herriman’s cartoon strip Krazy Kat, perhaps to Berlin’s boisterous Kit Kat Club as well 528.8: “Father Blesius Mindelsinn:” 1. Mendelsohn’s Wedding March is being performed in a church; 2. The Jewish Mendelsohn was, at the age of seven, baptized as a Christian. 528.9: “Crystal:” Crystal wedding anniversary is the 15th. 528.9-10: “Sing to us, sing to us, sing to us!: more lover talk: she wants him to sing to her and whisper sweet nothings. 528.11: “hister:” she’s looking at her “sister reflection” (220.9) in mirror and thinking of a man. Compare 459.4-6. 528.11: “(I’m fading!):” Again: Narcissus’s Echo, fading away, also the vanishing cream (see 526.29, 527.12-3) at work, also the visiting spirit fading away at the end of a séance (see note to .14, below). Much of the testimony to follow will be about twilight, when sunlight is fading. 528.11: “you, you:” an echo (of Echo: see previous note). Also, following (“meme”) me me of .10, another “mishe mishe to tauftauf” (3.9-10) 528.12: “esster:” overtone of “hister” (.11). Ess (S)+ter=”ster,” Dutch for star: Stella/aster: star: Stella 528.12-3: “Magda, Marthe with Luz and Joan, while I lie:” Child’s bedtime prayer: “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, / Bless the bed that I lie on.” 528.13: “while I lie with warm lisp on the Tolka. (I’m fay!):” three anapests and a spondee: the same beat as at .9-10: “Sing to us, sing to us, sing to us! Amam!” 528.14: “- Eusapia!:” By the time of FW, Eusapia Palladino (see McHugh) was widely recognized as having been a fraud. This is probably the speaker’s sarcastic comment on Yawn’s supposed mediumship, just demonstrated in (supposedly) channeling Issy. 528.14-25: “Eusapia!...may?:” McHugh has the speaker as Mark. Not sure, but Matthew seems more likely. For one thing, Mark is pretty clearly the next voice, of line .26, therefore should not, according to form, be the one heard here. The tone – hard-headed, skeptical about anything metaphysical or mystical – is usually Matthew’s. 528.14-5: “Eusapia! Fais-le, tout-tait! Languishing hysteria? The clou historique?:” Responses (perhaps) to “Eulogia” (527.12), and (definitely) to “fay” (.13), “languished hister” (.10-11) and “clue” (.12). “Tout-tait” answers Issy’s vow of secrecy; also a response to “you you” (.11). The speaker (again, my candidate is Matthew) is throwing cold water on the preceding rhapsodies. 528.16: “Is dads the thing in such or are tits the that?:” Compare Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis,” mocking AE’s mysticism: “This verily is that,” here contrasted with Kant’s matter-of-fact (“thing in such”) “Ding an Sich.” “Tits” (note the plural “are”) may be a response to “tities” (527.28). Blazes Boylan’s use of the word “titties,” remembered in “Penelope,” shows that Joyce was familiar with this slang term for breasts. 528.16-7: “suora unto suora:” compare the “sosie sesthers” of FW’s overture (3.12), where the main reference is to Swift’s two Esthers. Here, it is mainly to Issy’s looking-glass talk with her double, as just channeled by Yawn. 528.17: “twinstreams twinestraines:” compare Stephen in “Telemachus,” on another pair of spondees: “The twining stresses, two by two;” also Bloom in “Sirens:” “Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. Taking my motives he twined and turned them.” Compare note to .13: in general, this FW patch seems especially sensitive to metrical scansion. Along the same line, the “e’er” of .22 suggests the same – the kind of thing one attends to in (“liryc” (.22)) lyric poetry. “Hear we here her first poseproem” (prose poem (.15)) may be saying that in general the prose hereabouts is notably poetic – true enough, to my ear. 528.18: “alas in jumboland:” “Cyclops:” “Jumbo, the elephant loves Alice, the elephant.” Jumbo and Alice were elephants in Barnum’s circus, advertised as married. 528.18-9: “Ding dong! Where’s your pal in silks alustre:” this recalls 213.19-20, the voice of a washerwoman, at dusk, hearing a bell signalling 6:00 p.m. Many of the lighting effects in the vicinity here are similarly crepuscular, including the Knock apparition, which occurred at dusk. 528.18: “pal:” anagram for both ALP and the initials of Alice Pleasance Liddell, the model for Carroll’s Alice 528.19: “Presentacion:” the young Nora Barnacle was a portress in Galway’s Presentation Convent. (See 431.30.) Spelling is probably a response to “mother Concepcion” (527.36). 528.19: “Double her, Annupciacion:” because with her impregnation at the Annunciation, Mary’s personhood doubled. Overtones of “nuptial” and “Concepcion” 528.21: “Knock and it shall appall:” “appall” is another variant on Alice as Alice Pleasance Liddell – A.P.L. – here combined with the (“Immacolacion” (.20-1)) immaculately conceived Virgin Mary of the Knock apparition (see McHugh): to be immaculate is to be pure white; “appall” means, literally, to make white, often in the sense of being appalled by something terrible. Combined with the passage described in the next entry, this would seem to be a skeptical (Protestant, Ulster) view of the Knock apparition. “Knock and it shall be opened unto you,” is, from a certain perspective, equivalent to saying that people will see what they want to see. “Scheining” combines “shining” (the apparition was white and glowing) with German Schein, appearance as opposed to reality. Devil’s-advocate accounts of the Knock apparition attributed it to mirage-like weather-related optical effects combined with wishful-thinking pareidolia - the tendency to find patterns in indeterminate input. 528.21-3: “Who shone yet shimmers will be e’er scheining. Cluse her, voil her, hild her hindly. After lyric and themodius soft aglo iris of the vals:” in a familiar FW transformation, pure white light (“Immacolacion,” “appall”) refracts into (“iris”) the colors of the rainbow, for instance by way of Issy’s “(voil her”) veil: compare 527.23. As Stephen recalls in “Proteus,” the veil of the Temple, as prescribed in Exodus 26:31-2, was multi-colored. Possibles: “Cluse her, voil her, hild her hindly” may be the pregnant Mary’s period of confinement – enclosed, veiled, hidden. “Themodius soft aglo:” a bit of poetry: the meadows soft aglow with rainbow colors veiling the valley. (Again: the apparition at Knock has been attributed to optical effects from the weather: sun, mist, reflection.) As McHugh notes, “lyric,” “aglo” and “vals” are “Cyril,” “Olga,” and “Slav” spelled backwards: more mirror trickery, in a sequence characterized by metamorphizing optics. 528.23-4: “This young barlady, what, euphemiasly?:” what’s a euphemism for “bargirl?” “Barlady” would be one. By any name, not the most respectable of female occupations. Applied to the Virgin Mary, it may be reflecting suspicions (including her husband’s) that someone else beside the Holy Ghost was responsible for her condition. Again, this would be an Ulster/Matthew-like sentiment, consistent with his take on the apparition at Knock. 528.26: “Dang!:” Mark speaking. Response to “Ding dong!” (.18) 528.27: “Dis and dat and dese and dose!:” “Dang” was a distinctively American expression, and the ones imitated here would invariably have signaled Brooklynese. Mark’s Cork (“cove” (.31): see McHugh) was the point of departure for most of the Irish heading for America, and Brooklyn was a frequent destination. 528.27: “crackling out of your turn, my Moonster firefly:” back to radio interference – although, during the FW years, there was no Munster radio station. (For that matter, Ireland has no fireflies, either.) 528.27-529.22: “Dis…Hookup!:” an impossibly lengthy, wide-ranging, and mainly disassociated string of accusatory questions, with no intermittent or ensuing opportunity for the accused to respond. This ends the interrogation. Probably not a source, but it resembles, for instance, Mrs. Joe’s inquisitorial harangue in Great Expectations: “And couldn't she ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there? Isn't it just barely possible that Uncle Pumblechook may be a tenant of hers, and that he may sometimes — we won't say quarterly or half-yearly, for that would be requiring too much of you — but sometimes — go there to pay his rent? And couldn't she then ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there? And couldn't Uncle Pumblechook, being always considerate and thoughtful for us — though you may not think it, Joseph,” in a tone of the deepest reproach, as if he were the most callous of nephews, “then mention this boy, standing Prancing here” — which I solemnly declare I was not doing — “that I have for ever been a willing slave to?” 528.28-9: “And 2 R.N. and Longhorns Connacht:” interference from other Irish stations – although, again, there was no Munster (or Connacht) station. The two Irish-based broadcasting stations were Radio Athlone (“2 R.N.”) and Belfast. 528.29-31: “You’ve grabbed the capital and you’ve had the lion’s shire since 1542 but there’s all the difference in Ireland between your borderation, my chatty cove, and me:” It seems odd that Ulster should be complaining about English sovereignty, made official in 1542, and unclear how Munster could be said to have “grabbed the capital.” (“Capital” in the sense of money? Still odd: Ulster has the lion’s share of that too.) Just to further confuse, 1642-1649 were the only years in Irish history when Dublin was not the capital. (It was moved temporarily to Kilkenny, Leinster.) 528.30: “lion’s:” British lion. Also, if I’m right that Mark of Munster is being addressed, the lion of Saint Mark. 528.30: “lion’s shire:” lion’s share: an ambiguous expression: it can mean either most or all. Perhaps also a garbling of “Leinster,” site of Dublin, Ireland’s capital 528.31: “borderation:” botheration: the radio interference; probably also refers to the border setting off Northern Ireland. 528.31: "chatty:" verminous. (Source: Digger Dialects) 528.31: “chatty cove:” Munster is generally presented as the smooth-talking one – the Blarney Stone is in Munster. Also, and again, J.V. Kelleher once told me that Corkonians had a reputation for being “cute;” compare, with notes, “foxyjack” (.36) and “cheek” (.37). (Incidental note: Page 528 is, I think, one of FW’s two pages to have 37 lines.) 528.31-3: “The leinstrel boy to the wall is gone, and there’s moreen astoreen for Monn and Conn:” The Leinster boy has been executed by a firing squad. Matthew’s point here, as elsewhere (e.g. 521.28-31), is that as Ulster he can outfight the other three put together: Leinster is done with, and if Munster and Connacht don’t watch their step, there’s more in store for them. See next. 528.32-3: “and there’s moreen astoreen for Monn and Conn:” lion’s-share-wise, makes a kind of sense: without Leinster in the picture, there’d be more in store for Munster and Connacht. (And, of course, Ulster) 528.32: “moreen astoreen:” in Gaelic, a sweet, innocent young Irish lass 528.33: “tyke’s:” dog’s. See next entry. 528.33-4: “Doggymens’ nimmer win!:” “Document Number One” called for the partition of Ulster from the rest of Ireland; the result was civil war. 528.34-5: “You last led the first when we last but we’ll first trump your last with a lasting:” language of contract bridge, perhaps a “post-mortem” discussion of its ultimate imaginable sin, a trumped ace (“first”). (Bridge became newly fashionable during the FW years; according to one perhaps apocryphal story, in one game a wife shot and killed her partner, her husband, for trumping her ace.) Contract bridge has four players around a table, likely corresponding to the four provinces. Playing “out of your turn” (.27) is a major offense. 528.35: “Jump the railchairs:” jump the rails: careen off course. A rail chair was part of the arrangement for keeping train rails fixed in place. 528.36: “foxyjack:” Simon Dedalus in Portrait, on a fellow Corkonian: “There’s more cunning in one of those warts on his bald head than in a pack of jack foxes.” Continuing the card-playing strain, a jack is a playing card. 528.36: “Ye’ve:” as elsewhere in II.3, “ye” for “you” signifies Matthew of Ulster. 328.36-7-328.1: “Ye’ve as much skullabogue cheek on you now a would boil a caldron of kalebrose:” as noted by McHugh, Scullabogue was the site of an English atrocity – women and children burned alive. Matthew is really upping the ante here. Having just bragged about sending the “leinstrel boy” to the firing-squad “wall” (.32), he now reminds the natives that it could be even worse, if they show any more of their impudent “cheek.” 529.1: “Hayden Wombwell:” from Women of Today, 1925, page 305: “In England, Miss Ida Wombwell, seventeen years old, is the leader of a religious revival mission, preaching from the pulpit of a Methodist Chapel in Nottingham.” 529.2: “given the raspberry:” another Americanism, otherwise known as a Bronx cheer: a rude noise made with the lips – rude because mimicking the sound of a fart, something Kate does at 141.34 and threatens to do at 530.36. 529.2: “more than sandsteen per cent of chalk in the purity:” according to reports of the time, any more than two percent of chalk in the flour (see next entry) would have been detectable, as proof of adulteration. 529.3: “perfection flour:” both a brand and a term for pure flour, unadulterated by alum, chalk, etc. 529.3-4: “raw materialist:” raw materials 529.5: “brandnew braintrust:” FDR’s brain trust – a group of academics and intellectuals chosen to advise the president – first became prominent in 1933. 529.6-8: “with maternal sanction compellably empanelled at quarter sessions under the six disqualifications for the uniformication of young persons:” as McHugh notes, the Sex Disqualifications Act of 1919, removing legal barriers for women in professions, on juries, etc. “Maternal” suggests a nanny-state dimension: women newly empowered to do what they always did, maternally sanctioning, in both opposite senses, the young. “Young persons” was a legal term sometimes used setting the age of consent. Compare entries for .8-9, .12. 529.7:-8: “uniformication of young persons:” fornication with young persons. See next note. (Also, to whip the young into “uniform” regimentation. Long shot: embedded “formica:” ant-like) 529.8-9: “Committal man Number Underfifteen:” Controversy about what should be the legal age of consent was current in Joyce’s youth. In mid-Victorian Britain, it had been a felony for a man to have intercourse with a female under thirteen, a misdemeanor when she was under fifteen. Some of the language of this passage registers the “purity crusade” of W.T. Stead, Josephine Butler, and their allies, including the Salvation Army and S.P.C.C., who in 1886 succeeded in having the age of consent raised to sixteen. See next entry. 529.12: “the two dreeper’s assistents:” Swift as drapier, with his two (younger, one considerably younger) women 529.12-3: “service books:” guide books for performing religious services 529.15: “anterim:” Antrim is one of the six counties of Ulster. 529.15: “three tailors:” corresponding to the three soldiers of the park scandal, as the statutory-rape-age “Underfifteen” “Misses Mirtha and Merry” (.9, .11-12) correspond to the two temptresses 529.16: “O’Bejorumsen or Mockmacmahonitch:” Galway edict: “Neither O nor Mac shall strut nor swagger through the streets of Galway.” 529.16-7: “ex of Butt and Hocksett’s:” a version of “formerly of” some firm or establishment. As McHugh notes, the firm’s name echoes “butt” and “hogshead” – a reminder that the figure under investigation is or started off as a barrel, for example a “barrel of bellywash” (.17). (Another reminder: the ongoing testimony about the contents, for instance the percentage of “chalk in the purity” (.2-3)) 529.17: “bushel standard:” official unit of measurement established by Parliament. Goes with earlier testimony about flour adulteration (.2-4). In general, the speaker right now is concerned about rules and regulations. 529.20-3: “this hackney man in the coombe…Fauxfitzhuorson…when he might have been setting on his jonass inside like a Glassthure cabman:” probably James Fitzharris, cabman involved in the Phoenix Park murders; Ulysses puts either him or a look-alike in the cabman’s shelter of “Eumaeus;” “Faux-“ because he may be a bogus version. 529.21: “eggshaped fuselage:” Zeppelins were frequently described as “egg-shaped.” The Zeppelin company in question (see next entry) also made airplanes, that is, flying machines with fuselages. 529.21: “made in Fredborg into the bullgine:” as McHugh notes, “Fredborg” is short for Friedrichshafen, a center for the production of zeppelins. (As in “Oxen of the Sun,” a bullgine is a ship’s steam engine. Zeppelins were powered by diesel engines.) Since the identity of the egg-shaped object in question is uncertain, this echo of “into the bargain” may be a way of saying, Here’s yet another reason for thinking it was a zeppelin. 529.22: “across his back:” aside from being fat, HCE is often depicted as a hunchback. 529.23: “jonass:” male counterpart to jenny-ass. As (McHugh) Jonah, this may suggest that the “eggshaped fuselage” doubled as a whale. HCE is fat and is sometimes equated with Humpty Dumpty. 529.24: “doughboys:” nobody really knows how American soldiers got to be “doughboys,” but the epithet is consistent with reports of HCE’s general flabbiness. 529.24: “doughboys, three by nombres, won in ziel:” hombres: men. Also, as “doughboys,” three by “nombres,” not “numbers,” because they served in France. Perhaps also the (French) three musketeers, one for all and, in their zeal (or, as McHugh notes, German ziel, goal) all for one. Oxford editors have “doughboys, or Marchester marchers, three” – adding the “Manchester Martyrs,” three Irishmen hanged by England in 1867, to the marchers. 529.24: “ziel:” zeal 529.24-5: “cavehill exers:” caveman ethics, caveman sex. Compare 60.14. Equal-oppositely, the Cavaliers of the English Civil War. (Lower-case “cavalier” may re-reverse to some extent.) 529.25: “V.D.:” soldiers were notorious for venereal disease. Perhaps a (sardonic) answer to the “D.V.” of 527.26. 529.26: “glenagearries directing:” Glengarries: distinctive cap worn by Scottish regiments of the British army. (Most writers would probably have put a comma between these two words.) 529.27: “R. U. C.’s:” in 1922, as part of its participation in the Irish Civil War, Ulster’s branch of the Royal Irish Constabulary changed its name to the Royal Ulster Constabulary. Its membership included the infamous Black and Tans, many of them hardened, and brutalized, by service in the recent Great War. See next entry. 529.27: “trench ulcers:” Ulsters, combined or identified with “trench coats,” waterproof coats which got their name from their use in the trenches of WW I. Ulcers were symptomatic of several medical conditions resulting from life in the trenches. “Trench foot” was the best-known affliction. 529.29: “confronted with this obstruction:” of “Fauxfitzhuorson,” with his “eggshaped fuselage” (.20-1) 529.30: “pfuffpfaffing:” versions of this expression occur in various languages. In German, paff, piff, paff, puff! is or was “Hooray!” Also, see McHugh: puffing on his pipe – another feature of the park scandal, although in the first telling it was HCE’s opposite, the “cad,” who had the pipe. 529.31: “proved up to the scabsteethshilt:” as McHugh notes, “proved up to the hilt.” Latin for scabbard is vagina. A sword has a hilt, and goes in a scabbard. On the other hand, there is the expression “lying in his teeth.” 529.32-3: “shaved lamb breeches, child’s kilts, bibby buntings and wellingtons, with club, torc and headdress:” items of clothing here number seven – an HCE signature. 529.32: “shaved lamb:” that is, lambskin. Could be either with or without wool, that is shaved or not 529.34: “hengster’s circus:” Hengler’s Royal Circus, the (“unjoyable”) enjoyable “show” (.36) mentioned several times in Ulysses 530.1-3: “halfprice naturals…deffydowndummies:” a pretty nasty circus, all in all, reminiscent of sideshow freakshows, or of Roman circus entertainments, with their public torment of the deformed: half-wits let in at half price so they can watch epileptics imitating hunchbacks and the blind making fun of the deaf and dumb. Everybody seems to be drunk. 530.2-3: “blinds…taking off the deffydowndummies:” a variant on “the blind leading the blind:” the blind leading the deaf 530.3: “deffydowndummies:” nursery rhyme. “Daffy-down-dilly has come to town / With a yellow petticoat / And a pretty green gown.” 530.4: “complaining to the police barracks:” see note to .16-7. Chapelizod had a police station. 530.6-9: “by offers of vacancies from females in this city, neighing after the man and his outstanding attraction ever since they seen his X ray picture turned out in wealthy red in the sabbath sheets:” women have been asking him to marry ever since they read that he was rich. “Sabbath sheets:” Sunday papers, a regular source of society news. (Compare 147.25 and note.) 530.8: “outstanding attraction:” typical come-on for circus acts and other public entertainments 530.8-9: “his X ray picture turned out in wealthy red in the sabbath sheets:” red letters – rubrics - in church Bibles emphasizing certain passages, sometimes but not always those believed to be divinely inspired – Jesus’s (“X”’s) words in particular. Also, a fairly clear insinuation of wedding-night deflowering, leaving bloody sheets; compare 213.24-6. Saturday is the traditional day for weddings. 530.9: “wealthy red:” well-read. Appearing in “sheets” of newspaper, may include ancient riddle, ”What’s black and white and red/read all over?” 530.9-10: “litterydistributer in Saint Patrick’s Lavatory:” compare Bloom’s idea (“Lestrygonians”) for putting a clap quack’s ads on display in men’s lavatories. Also, in upper-class men’s rooms, attendants would hand out towels to users. 530.10: “that surdumutual son of his, a litterydistributer:” this would be Shaun, the (sometimes) sourd, deaf half of the two brothers, in his postman’s job of delivering letters. 530.11: “turn a Roman and leave the chayr and gout:” become a priest and leave the carnal world of flesh (French chair) and blood (in gouts). Also, Roman Catholics (“leave”) believe that during the mass the wafer and wine are turned into the flesh and blood of Jesus. 530.11-2: “gout in his bare balbriggans:” go out in his bare brogues. (Without socks? Or vice-versa?) McHugh notes that Balbriggan “made hosiery, buskins etc.,” and Mink glosses as “stockings.” In “Oxen of the Sun,” someone’s “D’ye ken bare socks?” is a comment on of how down-and-out the man in the macintosh appears to be. 530.12-3: “buy the usual jar of porter at the Morgue and Cruses:” it was common practice to buy porter, etc. at a pub and bring it home. “Morgue and Cruses” is a made-up pub name, this one with dolorous churchly overtones. 530.14: “fireman’s halmet:” perhaps because of ALP’s “auburnt” (139.23) hair, based on Nora’s auburn hair. Compare her “The Flash that Flies from Vuggy’s Eyes has Set Me Hair On Fire” (106.26-7). 530.14: “hoose:” hootch: liquor 530.16-7: “under the noses of the Heliopolitan constabulary:” they were carrying on under the very noses of the police. One example is the “gendarm” (.17) Sackerson, about to be summoned. As itemized above (see note to 7.28-9), Chapelizod had a Metropolitan Police Station, and the village’s most famous resident was Tim Healy. 530.17: “Can you beat it?:” compare 180.31. The words there refer to Shem, whose delinquencies, then as now, require the intervention of the law. 530.17: “gendarm:” probably “goddam” – during the Hundred Years War a French term for an English soldier, because that was the favorite English expression; Shaw’s 1923 Saint Joan includes this datum. 530.18: “sappertillery:” supernumerary. Also, combines two military units, sappers and artillery 530.19-20: “with the trunchein up his tail:” a policeman’s billyclub, secreted up his rear. This certainly sounds like a criticism of his constabulary competence: he was (see .16-7) one of the police “under” whose “noses” some flagrant misbehaving went on. 530.21: “Recall Sickerson, the lizzyboy:” first Google Books hit for La-Z-Boy chairs is 1925. Sackerson – see, e.g., next entry – is consistently slothful. 530.23: “Day shirker:” day worker who shirks – again, a “lizzyboy”/lazy boy (.21) 530.23: “vanfloats:” response to “van” (.21) 530.24: “High Liquor:” Heil Hitler; note “arian-” in “arianautic” (.18). Of Scandinavian ancestry, Sackerson would qualify. (That he is, in all ways except “butterblond” hair (429.18) and general pugnacity, the opposite of the Aryan ideal may be part of the point.) Compare the possible overtone of Sieg! Heil! In “Sackerson! Hookup!” (.22). 530.24: “High liquor made lust torpid:” well, yes. Among many testimonies to this effect, the Porter’s of Macbeth is probably the best-known – that liquor “provokes” lechery but “takes away the performance.” See next. 530.24: “torpid dough:” unleavened bread, which will not rise 530.25-30: “-Hunt…spew!:” probably, not definitely, the voice of Matthew - because of the overall percussiveness and the indignation on behalf of the “protestant religion.” 530.27: “when he upped their frullatullepleats:” see 493.6 and note, and, again, compare Molly in “Penelope:” “the next time he turned up my clothes on me.” Women’s skirts can/could be frilly, pleated. (At the risk of being obvious, “her shoes upon his shoulders” (.26) probably signifies a sexual encounter.) 530.27: “with our:” without 530.28: “A disgrace to the homely protestant religion:” this defense of Protestantism marks the speaker as – still – Matthew. (So does his readiness (.25) to interpret the cryptic “hunt her orchid” (.24) as a gross sexual innuendo – lecherous thoughts hiding behind (Protestant) puritanical prudery.) At least at this juncture, the accused is the Anglican HCE, whose voice will take over at 532.6. See next. 530.29: “twohandled umberella:” in Ulysses, Nelson is the “onehandled adulterer.” 530.29-30: “Trust me to spy on my own spew!:” that is, as a Protestant myself, I’m the one to inform on those of the congregation who have disgraced the name. The tone may be sarcastic. 530.32: “Wallpurgies!:” “-purg-“ as “purge:” perhaps a response to “spew.” Also, Kate (Sackerson’s accompaniment and the next speaker) is sometimes presented as a witch – hence “succuba” (.33), as in succubus – and Walpurgis Night is a witch’s meeting. 530.32: “pray for Bigmesser’s’ conversions:” compare “Lestrygonians:” “prayers for the conversion of Gladstone [to Catholicism] they had too when he was almost subconscious.” Gladstone was the “Grand Old Man.” (See second note to .36.) Also, bigamist; see note to .35, 531.10. Also, a Bessemer converter – another way of purging impurities, in this case from iron. 530.32-3: “Call Kitty the Beads:” The speaker considers himself beneath praying for the likes of Bigmesser. Instead, they should get the reliably pious Kate, with her beads, to do the job. (See second note to .36.) 530.33: “Beads:” rosary beads – distinctively Catholic property; see third note to .36. 530.33: “Mandame:” Kate is a mannish woman. (When people get older, “he’ll resemble she” (135.33).) Also, a pantomime “dame” is always played by a man – a man dame. 530.34: “the improvable:” an issue of the time was whether the lower orders could be “improved.” Possibly sarcastic 530.34: “cookinghagar:” Kate the cook; Hagar, Sarah’s maid, bearer of Abraham’s first child Ishmael. See second note to .35. At times (this sequence, from 530.34 to 531.26, probably comes closest), FW seems to imply that Kate is or somehow corresponds to HCE’s first wife, or perhaps the “other” woman left in the lurch when he married ALP. Her following reference to him as “Ouhr Former” (.36) may support this reading. (“Former” has this sense at 619.3.) More generally, she is the oldest member of FW’s female triad – Issy, ALP, Kate. 530.35: “upon the top of the stairs:” compare 556.31-557.12. Servants’ quarters would normally be in the uppermost room, at the very top of the stairs. 530.35: “She’s deep, that one:” Sarah and Ishmael were saved when the angel of God showed Sarah a well. (Zamzam, near where the Kaaba is situated, is named at 105.7) 530.36: “A farternoiser for his tuckish armenities:” Gladstone publicized and campaigned against Turkish atrocities against the Armenians. (Disraeli downplayed the issue, although presumably not to this vulgar extent.) 530.36: “farternoiser…Our Former:” a “paternoster” – Our Father - would begin a round of bead-telling; it begins with (“Our Former”) “Our father. Also – Joyce can seldom resist such conjunctions - a noise of farting: compare Kate’s contribution at 141.34: “phwhtphwht.” (In turn, compare to Bloom’s finale for “Sirens:” “Pprrpffrrppffff;” also, compare 496.13 and note.) See note to .32-3: Kate doesn’t want to pray for Bigmesser either. 530.36: “tuckish:” possibly a coincidence, but this (for “Turkish”) and a number of similar FW distortions can be found in Thackeray’s Diary of C. Jeames de la Pluche, Esq; compare 177.30. 530.36-531.1: “Ouhr Former who erred in having down to gibbous disdag our darling breed:” a version of what J. S. Atherton singles out as the heresy on which FW is built, that Creation and the Fall were simultaneous, that God is the Original Sinner. Here, God is responsible for the degeneration of the race, from an original “darling breed” down to (“gibbous”) monkeys. Reverses Darwin; see next. 531.1: “darling breed:” given the same line’s “gibbous” (gibbons: monkeys) and the overall implications of innate inferiority, “darling” certainly includes Darwin. Compare 252.28: “Charley, you’re my darwing!” 531.2: “boob’s indulligence:” selling of pope’s indulgences, one of the issues that resulted in the Reformation, then the (“Councillors-om-Trent” (.3)) - Counter-Reformation of the Council of Trent, which has (“sunctioned” (.2)) sanctioned the practice, especially as practiced as (see next entry) in Ireland in general, Dublin in particular. 531.3: “salmenbog:” psalm book; probably also Dublin as salmon bog 531.3: “Councillors-om-Trent:” England’s River Trent, prone to flooding, is boggy. 531.3-4: “Pave Pannem at his gaiter’s bronze:” as McHugh notes, a “Beware the Dog” sign on his gate. (P/K split.) Compare 54.9-10: “bleak and bronze portal.” In context (Protestant-Catholic dispute), possibly alludes to Swiss Guards at Bronze Portal of Vatican Apostolic Palace. Also, according to one version of biblical prophecy, Jesus is to break hell’s “gates of bronze,” in which case the Canem to beware of would be Cerberus. 531.4-5: “Mosser’s:” response to “Bigmesser’s” (530.32) 531.5-6: “messaged his dilltoyds sausepander mussels:” she’s cooking a mess of muscles (with sausages, in the saucepan); she’s massaging a muscle mass, his. This begins a sequence, lasting until the end of the paragraph (.26), where amatory action is remembered in the language of kitchenware or related articles. Kate, once an object of desire, is now a kitchen drudge. Besides those cited below: kissing as “kisschen” (.6); flesh as goose-fat / gander-fat and dough (.7); a heated face as a “braising red” “toastface” (.7); a passion-scratched back as barmbrack (McHugh: “a speckled cake” (.10)); love as “loaf” (.11); offspring-begetting patriarch Noah as “pastryart’s” (.11); vagina as (“flouer bouckuet” (.12)) flour bucket; a voyeuristic stranger as a (“strainger” (.12) strainer; hugging and squeezing as “squeezers” (.12) tongs; heart as kitchen “hearth” (.12); someone heated with passion as being “sizzled” (.14) with passion; a picture of a sexy dancer a “pitcher” (.15), “refined” like flour (.16); a bust with a brooch puffing out like a (“brooche”) brioche (.16); “jigotty” / gigot / leg of lamb sleeves (see McHugh (.17)); “Whisk!” (.18), an enticing dance move, as a wire whisk; buttocks as “hams” (.19); two pantomime acts in part named “Griddle” and “Soles” (.21-2); a lady-like “ladlelike” (.23), her can-can act a matter of cans, pots, and pans (.24-5), shaking and stirring someone up, and “Fuddling” him by filling his can (.26-6). 531.5-6: “sausepander mussels:” suspender muscles, otherwise called “external obliques,” here kitchenized into mussels in a saucepan. (Although the earliest Google Books hit is 1950, this reading, for a passage coming right after “I messaged his dilltoyds,” his deltoid muscles, seems, to your annotator, almost certain.) According to Wikipedia, they are “one of the outermost abdominal muscles, extending from the lower half of the ribs around and down to the pelvis.” 531.6: “ironing duck:” a linen cloth laid on the ironing board. She is ironing his back. From Herbert W. Page, Railway Injuries, 1891, p. 100: "Thus it is that ironing the back with an iron as hot as can be borne is frequently an admirable remedy" for chronic back conditions. 531.7: “rollpins:” a rolling pin held in a woman’s hand was a cartoon signature for termagants. 531.7: “do dodo doughdy dough:” aside from Kate’s rolling dough, this sounds like her humming or chanting while she’s doing it. Compare her fellow servant walking his beat: “big the dog the dig the bog the bagger the dugger the begadag degabug” (186.20-1). 531.9-10: “kiddledrum steeming and rattling like the roasties in my mockamill:” hectic passion-driven heartbeat and pulsings, sounding like a steaming kettle and the grinding of roasted coffee beans in her coffee mill 531.10: “I awed to have scourched his Abarm’s brack for him:” perhaps obvious, but scratching a man’s back during sex is 1. a sign of enthusiasm, and, 2. a way of marking him, not to say incriminating him, in case he has another partner. See 530.34: Sarah was jealous of Hagar. A “brack” is a flaw or tear in cloth; occurs in “Penelope.” 531.10-11: “Abarm’s (Abraham’s]…pastryart’s” [patriarch’s]:” see next, and note to 530.34. 531.11: “Obadiah:” minor biblical prophet, accompanied by major figure (“noas”) Noah 531.11-2: “take your pastryart’s noas out of me flouer bouckuet!:” lying on front on the kitchen table while she massages his back, his nose is in the vicinity of her vagina. 531.12: “flouer bouckuet:” a flour bucket for the kitchen, but “bouckuet” / bouquet would go with a flower bucket. Both items were and are real. More back-and-forth here between homely local language and aspiration to French fashion, with Joyce anticipating the “Bucket” / “Bouquet” of BBC 1’s Keeping Up Appearances. 531.13: "as dream of the hearth thou reinethst alhome:" as queen of the heart though reinest alone. As queen of the heart thou reignest alone: quoting a sweet nothing he once said to her, back in theday. Allusion to Madame de Pompadour, mistress to Louis XV and, because of her court influence, called the "reinette." 531.13-8: “His…touloosies:” horizontal, being massaged by an old woman, he gazes lasciviously at a picture of her younger self, from when she was a dancing girl. 531.16: “bust alla brooche:” a brooch on her bust. (“Alla,” as in “chicken a la king,” is more kitchen language.) 531.17: “padbun:” paired with bust, her bum, padded out. 531.17: “jigotty:” compare Bloom, in “Sirens,” on conductor’s trousers during performance: “jiggedy jiggedy.” Also, see 534.36-535.1. 531.18: “toulong touloosies:” As McHugh notes, Toulouse -Lautrec. She’s been doing provocative dances, including the can-can, and here he is, painting her. “Toulong” may echo “Moulin,” as in Moulin Rouge. Still, this is Ireland, not Paris, and the doings are tamer. Directed by Kate, the man on the kitchen table is looking at a picture of her young self imitating the “refined soubrette” (.16) Katy Lanner, a soubrette but definitely a refined one, and her version of the can-can is (“ladlelike” (.23)) lady-like: in FW, as in “Circe,” pictures tend to come to life. (Even here, some qualification: the real name was Katti Lanner. Her background was in ballet. (Compare note to .29). Later she was a choreographer in London ballet and theatre – where, according to Wikipedia, she sometimes “had to make concessions to music hall audiences.” All in all, “soubrette” seems an impertinence – Miss Lanner would probably have been offended.) By .25, with “shake up pfortner,” French routines will have turned into a good old square dance: take your partner. 531.19: “hams:” again, buttocks 531.19: “juppettes:” jupette: French for short skirt, covering the hams, sometimes 531.20: “What’s this?:” comment a nom: in Rabelais, the vagina. Some more can-can peek-a-boo 531.21: “flea pantamine:” free pantomime; flea circus. Fleas are famous as jumpers. See next entry. 531.22: “pucieboots:” puce is French for flea. Having flea-boots would make you a great jumper, able to “kick…kickakickkack” (.23-5) impressively. Also, overtone of “Plurabelle.” Also, in “Telemachus,” Mulligan imagines wearing “puce gloves” as a sign of dandyism. Also, “pussy” as slang for vagina was around in Joyce’s day – compare note to .20. Also and oppositely, Puss in Boots, noted by McHugh, was a favorite figure in Christmas pantomimes. 531.22: “Shusies-with-her-Soles-Up or La Sauzerelly:” while the latter stage name goes with her imitation of French fashion, the former sounds awfully homey: high-kicking, she has her shoe soles up. (On the other hand, compare 530.26-7: “With her shoes upon his shoulders, ‘twas most trying to beholders.”) 531.23: “I started to hobmop ladlelike:” compare 547.20-1: “she began to bump a little bit.” As McHugh notes, a line from the song “What Ho! She Bumps!” 531.23: “ladlelike, highty tighty:” her lady-like pretensions, under the circumstances, are a bit hoity-toity. Music hall high-kickers wore tights. 531.24-5: “cluckclock lucklock quamquam camcam potapot panapan kickakickkack:” to my ears, the finale of a (“camcam”) can-can, which, as McHugh notes, has been in progress since .15 531.25: “shake up pfortner:” take up [your] partner: square dance and/or ballet. 531.26: “Fuddling fun for Fullacan’s sake:” repeatedly filling the can (of liquor) would lead to a fuddled state. 531.27-532.5: “-All…Doff!:” Who is the speaker here? Your annotator thinks it’s probably Luke of Leinster. Like Matthew of Ulster he’s bossy, but Mathew would not likely address anyone as “genral” and “guvnor” (.28, 29). Not provincial enough for Johnny, not loquacious enough for Mark. By guesswork process of elimination, probably Luke, as a rule the hardest of the four to identify. 531.28: “finicking about Finnegan and fiddling:” see previous entry: response to “Fuddling fun for Fullacan’s sake” 531.28-9: “fiddling with his faddles:” fiddle-faddle: nonsense 531.29: “ballot:” ballet – again, Katti Lanner’s profession 531.29: “guvnor:” British slang for boss or person in charge. (Again, whoever the speaker here, it isn’t likely to be Matthew.) 531.30-1: “top her drive:” stop her (Kate’s) drivel 531.31: “to tip the tap of this, at last:” a last reminder that the object of inquiry has been a barrel 531.31-2: “His thoughts that would be words, his livings that have been deeds:” language of Confiteor: a response to “confisieur” (.2) 531.34: “Trancenania:” Tranceland 531.34: “Terreterry’s Hole:” Territorial 531.35: “Stutterers’ Corner:” Mink gives this a “?”. I suggest Speaker’s Corner, Hyde Park. Also, FW’s stutterer is HCE, now being summoned; he will emerge (“bubub brought” (522.7)) stuttering. 531.35: “to find the Yokeoff his letter:” given following “Yokan” and “jousters,” to find (get) the joke of his letter. Also, probably, jack off: semen can be used for invisible ink. (See 111.26-112.2, 246.30.) Egg yolk – the letter was found by a hen, and painters mixed egg yolk into tempera (184.11-185.12) – may also figure in. 536.36: “jousters of the king:” both (McHugh) court jesters and the king’s champions in a jousting tournament 536.36: “Kovnor-Journal:” the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland was (see U 10.1213) also the “General Governor;” his residence was in Phoenix Park, to which the Mullingar Inn is adjacent. Compare “guvnor” (.29). Possibly a reason for thinking the speaker is Luke of Leinster. 532.1: “eirenarch’s:” absolute ruler of (Eire) Ireland – until independence, the “king” (531.36), as represented by (see previous entry) the Lord Lieutenant and General Governor. 532.1 "meg of megs:" French expression Meg des Megs, for God 532.2: “Off with your persians!:” I suggest that this combines two of Lear’s lines in the “blasted heath” section of King Lear: “Off, off, you lendings,” and (Lear to the naked Edgar): “only I do not like the fashion of your garments: you will say they are Persian attire [that is, fancy]; but let them be changed.” McHugh notes that “Fa Fe Fi Fo Fum!” (.4) echoes Edgar’s “Fi, fo, and fum” from the same sequence; I would also match “Ho, croak, evildoer!” with Lear’s “hide thee, thou bloody hand, / Thou perjured,” etc.). 532.3: “shriving sheet:” probably winding sheet. A dying communicant would have been shriven soon before death. See next entry. 532.3: “croak:” American slang for die. Also, somewhat equal-oppositely, to speak, hoarsely. 532.4: “Arise, sir ghostus:” again, equal opposites: sounds like a request to come back to life, is actually the reverse. Illustrations, animations, and movies of the time (for instance the 1937 Topper) showed translucent ghosts/spirits rising from the body of the deceased at the moment of death. Also, we have just heard that he is “under” a “sheet” (.3) – which would make him look like the standard idea of a ghost. 532.4: “sir ghostus:” the Roman Emperor Augustus. One of HCE’s most frequent identities. The long monologue beginning here will, as of 538.18 (see entry), conclude with a version of Augustus’s self-congratulatory Res Gestae Divi Augustus. HCE’s wife’s middle name is Livia, after Augustus’s wife. Joyce’s middle name was Augusta. Possible overtone of once-popular exclamation, "Great Caesar's Ghost!" 532.4-5: “As long as you’ve lived there’ll be no other:” another instance, I suggest, where a comma, here after “lived,” would have been standard for most writers – in which case, the sense is: like a biblical patriarch, you’ve lived such a long time that no one since has matched it and no one ever will. 532.5: “Doff!:” the (ghost’s) sheet, that is; perhaps also Augustus’s toga 532.6: “Heil!:” again, Heil Hitler! Compare 530.24. “Heil!” was the Nazi’s imitation of the “Hail Caesar!” of Augustus’s Rome. Your annotator in on record as thinking that, James Joyce, his family, and, perhaps, John McCormack aside, Hitler is the twentieth century figure most often heard about or heard from in Finnegans Wake. 532.7: “I am bubub brought up under a camel act:” as McHugh notes, “camel” is Danish for old. The point being made – along with the guilty stuttering – is that the statutes he is accused of breaking are ridiculously ancient and outmoded; instead, the court should listen to what people are saying about him nowadays. 527.7: “pontofacts massimust:” The Emperor (Augustanus” (.11)) Augustus, with whom HCE is identifying, declared himself Pontifex Maximus – head of church as well as state. Also, as McHugh notes, the expression “in point of fact,” which by .14-15 will have become a “matter of fict,” fact as fiction. 532.9-10: “Shitric…Thord:” shit…turd. Expresses his opinion of the laws in question. See McHugh: the two rulers named would be villains to the Irish. 532.10: “Allenglisches:” compare “Cyclops” – the German joke-name “Kriegfried Uberallgemein” 532.11-12: “from Augustanus to Ergastulus:” see McHugh: from the highest (the emperor) to the lowest (slaves) 532.15: “halfwife:” occurs in texts of biblical commentary: can mean either concubine or a wife, like Sarah, who shares her husband with another woman. Compare 530.34, .35, 531.10 and notes. 532.17-8: “I perpetually kept my ouija ouija wicket up:” no idea what this means in cricket, but as a general expression someone who “keeps his wicket up” is a team player – he thinks of the other fellows more than of his own performance. 532.18: “ouija:” Ouija boards were and are used for the kind of spirit-summoning that has just transpired. See note to 533.31. 532.18: “On my verawife:” He is swearing “On my very life.” 532.18: “verawife:” compare “Nausicaa:” “Madame Vera Verity.” Implies truthfulness 532.19-20: “trespass against parson:” legal term: “trespass against persons,” signifying various kinds of property infringement 532.20: “youthful gigirl frifrif friend chirped:” a pair of doubled dots (Issy signature), and “chirped” may recall 244.30: “the birds, tommelise two, quail silent. ii.” As usual, the father’s stammering signifies guilt – here, about the daughter. 532.21: “Apples:” again: A. P. L., initials of Lewis Carroll’s Alice Pleasance Liddell 532.21: “cousines:” giving the French for “cousins” specifies them as females. Again, probably dodging the daughter issue – niece, cousins. His sin typically involves something improper with a girl or girls. 532.21-3: “Miss Dashe…dot:” again, Morse dash-to-dot is a signature of Tristan and Iseult communication. See note to .20, above. 532.22: “Gigglotte’s:” giglot: in Shakespeare (and the Shakespearian “Scylla and Charybdis”) a lewd woman 532.22-3: “touch to her dot and feel most greenily of her unripe ones:” touch her clitoris (“Circe”’s “bachelor’s button;” in “Nausicaa,” “Press the button and the bird will squeak”) and fondle her breasts, which are as yet, like green apples, immature. (Compare 175.19-20: “Broken Eggs will poursuive bitten Apples:” green apples are bitter, and “poursuive” includes “swive,” fuck.) “Ones:” two vertical parallel lines, as in “11” – or here, “ii,” with the “dot”ted i’s - are an Issy signature. 532.24: “anniece:” un-nice. Also, a Freudian sideways dodge from “daughter.” The pattern was established at 21.14-5: “the niece-of-his-in-law, the prankquean.” 532.25: “Babbyl Malket for daughters-in-trade:” “Baby Market” was a term at the time for commercial centers selling babies given up for adoption. The highest demand was for white blue-eyed females. The identification here with “the trade” – as McHugh notes, prostitution – is queasy-making. 532.26: “my acquainters do me the complaisance:” my acquaintances pay me the compliment, do me the favor. 532.28: “lagmen:” “lagged” is slang for being arrested. Here, he is addressing his audience, initially the four interrogators of III.1-3, as lagmen, constables, who might have “awristed” (handcuffed, on the wrists) not him, but “her,” the girl with whom he is accused of behaving improperly. 532.28-9: “tinkling of such a tink:” little-girl-talk for urinating. Some (probably all) versions of the park scandal involve the semi-public urination of young girls. Also: again, Issy’s signature double-i’s 532.31-2: “out of haram’s way:” escaped from the harem 532.33: “Mannequins Passe:” this Manneken-Pis allusion to the famous Brussels statue of a pissing boy gives the male counterpart to girly “tinkling” (.28). 532.34: “with awards in figure and smile subsections:” as a contestant in a bathing-beauty contest, she didn’t win, but did get honorable mentions for her smile and figure. 532.34-5: “handicapped by two breasts:” speaking of her (full) figure – for someone who prefers the “unripe” breasts of pre-pubescent girls (.23), breasts developed enough to require “opera tops” (see next entry) would not be desirable. He is deflecting charges of pedophilia by insisting that, as a matter of fact, he is a married man, with his “ripest littlums wifukie” (.31), full-grown wife, but, as with that “littlums,” the pretense is shaky. 532.35: “opera tops:” from a 1921 journal on women’s underwear: “They are provided with opera tops – that is to say, they are finished with a fancy edging and ribbon shoulderstraps.” 532.35: “a remarkable little endowment garment:” the underwear “opera tops.” Perhaps a (sarcastic) tribute to her fully-endowed poitrine 532.36: “What spurt!:” probably from (.33) the Manneken-Pis, perhaps as a blind for his real enthusiasm, for tinkling girls 533.1-2: “savouring of their flavours…with heliotrope ayelips:” along with everything else, heliotrope can be a syrup or flavoring. Accounts describe it as tasting like cherries. 533.2: “heliotrope ayelips:” heliotrope is both a color and a perfume, in both senses applicable to beauty parlor makeup – here, apparently, used simultaneously on eyelids and lips. Perhaps also her aye-lips, like Molly’s, saying “Yes.” Early 20th century song: “There’s no, no on your lips but yes, yes in your eyes.” 533.3: “I do drench my jolly soul on the pu pure beauty of hers past:” the “spurt” of 532.36 – ejaculation as well as urination 533.3: “the pu pure beauty of hers past:” the beauty of hers, past, when she was younger than she is now – Issy-age, for instance. About two pages earlier, Kate testified that while she was ironing his back he “sizzled there watching the lautterick’s pitcher by Wexford-Atelier as Katty the Lanner, the refine souprette” (531.14-6). In “Nausicaa,” Bloom reflects that during sex both Gerty and Molly were “thinking of someone else all the time” – and in fact “Ithaca” confirms that Milly has blond hair because Molly was thinking of her first lover, the blond Mulvey, when Milly was conceived. (Compare 620.26-7: “And blowing off to me, hugly Judsys, what wouldn't you give to have a girl! Your wish was mewill. And, lo, out of a sky!”) Similarly, the man here was concentrating on his early memories of his wife as a young glamor girl. (Again, Kate is apparently the oldest edition: see 530.35 and note.) “Pu” may abbreviate either/both pulchra, puella, perhaps puerile. 533.4: “best-preserved:” “well-preserved” is a catty faux-euphemism for “old.” 533.4: “wholewife:” contrasted with “halfwife” (532.15) 533.6: “spekin tluly:” along with the “smallest shoenumber” size feet of “chinatins” women (.5-6), some stage-Chinese (“tluly” for “truly”) from (“pekin”) Peking. Coming from China, all the articles of clothing (“lutestring,” “pewcape,” “tabinet” (.9-10: see McHugh)) will be silk products. 533.7: “It was my proofpiece from my prenticeserving:” as a shoe-maker / shoe salesman, he is proudly presenting one of his early creations to a potential (tiny-footed) female customer. 533.8: “Lambeyth:” Hebrew Lamed: 30. Beth: 2. (So: where’s the 11?) 533.14: “distressful though such recital prove to me:” false modesty 533.15-23: “I…Nowhergs:” a homier rendition of II.4: the four old men spying on the honeymoon couple in bed. See .16-7 and note. 533.15-6: “I introduced her (Frankfurters, numborines, why drive fear?) to our fourposter tunies:” compare ALP at 370.12: “thank you so very much as you introduced me to fourks.” The “fourposter” was the bridal bed, where the action was observed by the four oldsters. As musical performance, this numbers the four singers of the quartet, in German (they are “Frankfurters”) and perhaps gives the opening beat. 533.16-7: “our fourposter tunies chantreying under Castrucci Sinior and De Melos, those whapping oldsteirs:” again, recalls the bedroom scene of II.4: love-making, in a four-poster bed, observed by four impotent (virtual castrati) old men. Also, castrati as singers: as McHugh notes, Castrucci and de Melos were important figures for opera in the Dublin of the 18th century, when castrati were prized as operatic singers. (Glasheen identifies Farinelli, the most famous of the time, at 151.7.) 533.17: “sycamode:” sycamore: a frequent accompaniment of the four “oldsteirs” 533.17: “euphonium:” a sweet-sounding melodion 533.18: “duckyheim:” “ducky:” Cockney for nice, sweet. Given allusion to A Doll’s House, probably an echo of The Wild Duck – only, here, a homey duck. Pertinent that Nora had the same name as Ibsen’s heroine – Joyce considered it an omen. See entry for .19 (duck becomes goose, as in barnacle goose), and – ironically – entry for .23, where female domesticity is being imposed by the state. 533.19: “Goosna Greene:” according to Ellmann, Nora adopted the name “Gretta Green” for her elopement with Joyce – a gesture remembered in “The Dead” with the character Gretta Conroy. Gretna Green, just across the Scottish border, was the destination of impetuous elopers. (On the other hand, as Mink notes, Drumcondra’s Goose Green Avenue was the address of Ireland’s first “reformatory for juvenile offenders” – hence “cagehaused” (.18).) Also, Nora’s last name was Barnacle, as in barnacle goose. 533.19-20: “that cabinteeny homesweetened through affection’s hoardpayns:” in feeling at least, compare Edgar Guest’s popular “It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home.” (The poem includes examples of homey heart-ache, as well as – see next entry – childbirth and children.) Sentiment will be repeated with .22-3 version (see McHugh) of “There’s no place like home.” 533.20: “hoardpayns:” according to Christiani, Scandinavian for labor pains. Here, giving birth to the children that will make their house homey. 533.20: (“First Murkiss:” as in II.4, one of the oldsters is remembering his first kiss. 533.21-2: “Aw, aw!:” compare Ben Dollard, bass baritone, in “Wandering Rocks:” “Aw!” Part of the musical performance. (So, probably, is the “Dodo!” of .20 – making as well for a reverse alpha-omega.) Also, the ass’s braying 533.23: “K. K. Katakasm:” the Nazis’ three K’s of womanhood – “Kinder, Küche, Kirche.” “Katakasm:” Cataclysm. We have just heard of “Kerk…church” (.23), will next get “child” (533.25) – at .26 translated to German (“youngend”) Jugend, and “gnome sweepplaces like theresweep” (.22) signals a kitchen hearth, heart of the home of which there is no place like. This passage appears during a prolonged access of triumphalist male-imposed domesticity: he has established a home for his wife, and is now telling her what to do there. 533.25-7: “child…youngend…peepee…hedjeskool:” not likely a coincidence that these words, all reminiscent of the girls-urinating component of the park scandal, should appear in close proximity when HCE is defending himself. Oxford editors have “youngend,” German for “youth.” 533.28: “Caulofat’s:” caul fat: the stomach lining of some animals, used for sausage casings 533.29: “Michael Engels:” Michelangelo; the archangel Michael 533.29-30: “Let Michael relay Sutton:” one of several FW allusions to the Catholic prayer to Michael to “thrust Satan down to hell.” Also, the Sutton Peninsula, including Howth, at different times (see 535.31 and note) a center of electronic communications; see next entry. 533.30: “relay:” given context, probably a relay station; see “how I am amp amp amplify” (.33), “Big Butter Boost” (.36) boosting the BBC. 533.30: “phoney habit:” as earlier, refers simultaneously to telephone and radio 533.31: “clairaudience:” by analogy to clairvoyance: the radio speaker has visionary powers. Also, the radio signal is coming through clearly. The discovery of radio waves was sometimes cited as evidence by analogy of mental telepathy and similar paranormal phenomena. Marconi believed that radio waves could include the voices of the dead. 533.32: “reicherout at superstation:” see 360.15-6 and note, 462.26-463.1 and note. A (super) radio station of the Reich, reaching out – that is, broadcasting. Goebbels: “Without radio, we could never have taken Germany.” 533.32-3: “ruptures to our roars:” the amplification will rupture our eardrums. Also, rapturous roaring of a Nazi rally, coming over the radio 533.33: “Hiemlancollin:” “Heimatland:” German for homeland. Homeland calling: a German version of Radio Athlone’s “Come back to Erin” 533.33-534.2: “Pimpim’s…Tak:” “clairaudience” or not, at this point the reception seems to be meeting with interference from another station, broadcasting agricultural market rates. Compare .35, below. 533.34: “saywhen saywhen:” common expression when pouring someone a drink, doubled. Answered by recipient: “Thnkyou! Thatll beall fortody” (533.36-534.1). 533.35: “Livpoomark lloyrge hoggs:” large Liverpool hogs 534.2: “Abbreciades anew York gustoms:” I appreciate, anew, your custom. (Also, of course, New York. Radio transmissions from anywhere in the vicinity would have shut down by now, but not those coming from across the Atlantic, five time zones earlier; Joyce used to listen to them in Paris, and a February 29, 1929 item in The Irish Times describes receiving signals from Australia.) 534.6: “damp damp damp:” response to “amp amp amplify” (533.33) 534.7-8: “It is more ernst terooly a moresome intartenment:” introduces the Oscar Wilde theme, to become increasingly prominent up through 536.27, and still in play at least up to 538.17. Wilde’s best-known play was (“ernst”) The Importance of Being Earnest - amusing entertainment by someone later incarcerated as a degenerate, for which the German word is entarte. 434.7-8: “more ernst:” as Glasheen notes, Morris Ernst, the lawyer who successfully defended Ulysses in American court. (See also note to .15.) From 1934, the Random House Ulysses began with a foreword from Ernst, followed by Judge Woolsey’s decision and a letter from Joyce to the publisher, Bennett Cerf. Although never using the word “earnest,” Woolsey stresses Joyce’s “serious” and “sincere” intentions. (This may be signalling a parallel between the Wilde and Ulysses trials: see note to .17.) 534.8: “Colt’s tooth:” a coltish tooth is an oldster’s desire for young lovers 534.9: “luttrelly:” French lutte, struggle 534.9: “teaspoonspill:” compare 38.20. Again, tradition that the average ejaculation produces one teaspoonful (sometimes, tablespoon) of semen 534.10: “evidence at bottomlie to my babad:” evidence at the bottom of my bed. Evidence from bedsheets figured in the final Wilde trial. Also, compare Bloom in “Hades,” on the inquest into his father’s suicide: “Boots giving evidence…Had slipped down to the foot of the bed.” (It’s not clear what he’s referring to – perhaps the bottle of aconite, perhaps Rudolph Bloom’s suicide note.) 534.10: “bottomlie:” given context, Horatio Bottomley (see McHugh) probably figures in here as an example of establishment hypocrisy, especially on matters of sex. He kept several mistresses but in his publications stood for public purity and censorship. See .17 and note. 534.11: “Keemun Lapsang of first pickings:” see .9 and note. The first crop of the tea harvest is the most prized. Keemun tea, according to entries in Google Books, was considered to be a premium variety. The sense may be that his semen is top-shelf. 534.11-2: “And I contango can take off my dudud dirtynine articles of quoting here in Pynix Park…” more Freudian-slippish giveaways: this time, of exposure – removing his articles of clothing in Phoenix Park. Oxford editors insert “I” after “contango,” which would make “I contango” a stammered first attempt at saying “I can take off.” This sentence, going from .11 to .24, begins as an effort to say something like “I can take my oath on” – the Bible, presumably - but it gets lost. 534.13: “by gramercy of justness:” thanks to justice 534.14: “veryman and moremon:” wanting very many men and (even) more men. Probable overtone of “Mormon,” here as example of (homosexual, perhaps pederastic) polygamy: Brigham Young, whose words, as McHugh notes, will be cited at 534.35, later appears calling out “Bringem young, bringem young, bringem young” (542.27)! 534.15: “advicies:” auspices. Also, the advice(s) of his lawyer(s) – according to him, he’s their (“favoured” (.16)) favorite client. He wants the law to block publication. (McHugh, but not Oxford editors, has “advicies to their favoured client.”) The first-named, “Norris,” is probably another nod to Morris Ernst. 534.16: “preprotestant:” preposterous. Also, a stammered “protestant.” Also, equally-oppositely, Catholicism came before Protestantism - was pre-Protestant. 534.17: “publication of libel:” see .10 and note; Bottomley’s downfall began when he sued an accuser for libel. (In the Woolsey decision, Ulysses had been prosecuted under libel law.) The same was true of Oscar Wilde, who, also on trial, will soon be showing up. See next entry. 534.17-8: “by any tixtim tipsyloon or tobtomtowley of Keisserse Lean:” in fact the Wilde trial may already be under way. Tim and Tom (“tixtim…tobtomtowley”) are often names for the soldiers involved in the park scandal, and Tom, the generic Tommy Atkins, as Glasheen remarks sometimes “blends” with Fred Atkins, the rent boy and (Glasheen’s words) “perjured witness” who testified against Wilde in court, and whose presence, at lines .32-3, the accused will be protesting: “Shame upon Private M! Shames on his fulsomeness! Shamus on his atkinscum’s lulul lying,” with “atkins” embedded in “atkinscum’s.” Allegations against Wilde included reports of anal sex, with testimony about hotel bedsheets (.10). Keysar’s Lane (“Keisserse Lean”), identified by Mink, was popularly known as Kissarse Lane. Wilde, under attack, will be the main figure present for approximately the next two page. The stammered response here includes a charge of “tipsy”-ness – that the accuser is drunk. 534.19: “lowbelt suit:” a child’s outfit, with knock-kneed knees (see next) on show, here worn by a (“bloweyed” (.18) blue-eyed) boy. Again, Wilde with rent boys. Whatever his intentions, he is not helping his case here by emphasizing the witness’s youth. 534.19: “knockbrecky kenees:” knickerbockers, which fasten at the (“kenees”) knees. “Breeks” (appears in “Telemachus”) was slang for trousers – again, as knee-pants, worn by boys. Also, knocking knees 534.19: “bullfist rings:” either bullfighting arenas or boxing (“-fist”) rings or both; the red/rude hand and (“cunvesser”) canvas of the next line argue for the latter. In any case, a sporting gent – like the Lenehan of UIysses, part of the seedy demimonde. 434.20: “So to speak:” a judgment call, but your annotator suggests that most writers would have put a comma after “So.” 534.20: “roude axehand:” as in, caught red-handed. Also (McHugh) Ulster’s red hand – HCE here seems aware that the Ulster’s Matthew was at the head of his interrogators. Also, see note to .23-4. 534.20-1: “Saunter’s Nocelettres:” Saunders Newsletter was a “high Tory newspaper.” It lasted until 1879. Here also version of FW’s letter, sent (at night) from ALP as, variously, Senders, Miss Anders, Miss Anderson, etc. ALP is “gossipaceous” (195.4), and Wilde was a victim of gossip. 534.21: “Poe’s Toffee’s Directory:” see next. Given his milieu (see third note to .19), perhaps post-toff as well 534.21: “Toffee’s Directory:” toff’s directory – something like New York’s Social Register. “Toff” can also be “toffee-nosed.” See next entry. 534.22: “Belgradia:” Belgravia is a fashionable London district. Wilde was arrested for sodomy committed in the Belgravia Hotel. 534.23-4: “to my nonesuch, that highest personage at moments holding down the throne:” in “Wandering Rocks,” Stephen feels that the poignant face of his sister reminds him of “Nonesuch Charles” – Charles I (Annotations to James Joyce’s Ulysses, edited by Sam Slote et al, p. 480, explains the association), occupant of the English throne until he was beheaded with an axe (.20). (Again (see note to 517.19), Joyce was aware of the tradition that the headsman was named Joyce, and we have just heard of someone with “a fallse roude axehand” (.20). HCE is taking his case – a request that a libel against him not be published – to the highest authority, the king. (Joyce once appealed to Prime Minister David Lloyd George over a spat involving a pair of pants.) The Oxford editors replace “nonesuch” with “nomesuch;” I don’t know what to make of “nome-,” but the context indicates strongly that, change or no change, “nonesuch” is still in play. 534.24-5: “So to speak of beauty scouts in elegant pursuit of flowers, searchers for tabernacles and the celluloid art!:” compare 532.31-533.3, where the speaker fancies himself a connoisseur of female beauty. 534.24: “beauty scouts:” movie studio employees on the lookout for future female movie stars. HCE presented himself as something similar with his remembered come-on to ALP: Pardon me, Goldilocks, my heaven on earth, but you’d have a lovely face for the pantomime (615.22-4). See entry after next. 534.25: “searchers for tabernacles:” again, some writers might have inserted an Oxford comma here, to make a series of three. 534.25: “the celluloid art:” in keeping with toff context (see notes to .21, .22) a pretentious term for movies – probably as used by a beauty scout 534.26: “sore eynes:” sirens? 534.26: “The caca cad!:” more stammering. Also, probably not accidental that “caca” appears two lines after account of the king “holding down the throne;” compare “Cyclops” on England’s ruling class, perched on toilets: “rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the deathless gods.” The throne motif is continued with (“Thom’s towel” (.27) domstol, which Christiani glosses as “throne of justice,” but which also has “stool,” as in (“Calypso”) “He liked to read at stool.” All these excremental elements have to do with the charges of sodomy against Wilde. 534.26-7: “He walked by North Strand with his Tom’s towel in hand:” given context, this is probably inspired by the lines, “If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily / In your medieval hand,” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience. The play’s main character, Reginald Bunthorne, was widely taken as having predicted Wilde, perhaps even serving as a model. 534.27: “Snakeeye!:” a sporting gent (see third entry for .19) would know that snake-eyes in dice are bad luck. Also, of course: as a snake, who does he think is, still hanging around in Saint Patrick’s Ireland? 534.28: “green parrots:” see McHugh. Pot calling the kettle black: England’s most famous absinthe drinker was Oscar Wilde. Undiluted absinthe is bright green. As Ulysses testifies (“Proteus,” “Oxen of the Sun, “Circe”), a drinker of unmixed absinthe would typically be considered a bohemian wastrel, subject to nightmarish hallucinations (of green parrots, for instance) - the point here being that his version of events is accordingly not to be taken seriously. 534.29: “wipehalf:” compare “halfwife” 532.15. Given context, definite overtone of arse-wiping 534.29-30: “leaving out of my double inns while he was teppling over my single ixits:” 1. Chapelizod’s Mullingar House as a destination for Dublin’s (see next) tippling bonafides – they leave Dublin, come here, drink, stumble out from my exits. (This in fact happens at the end of II.3.) 2. FW’s letter signs off with an A and (113.18) double n’s, followed by a kiss or kisses marked with x’s. 534.30: “teppling:” tippling 534.30: “ixits:” exits 534.30-1: “So was keshaned on for his recent behaviour:” perhaps cashiered - fired 534.31: “lorking:” lurking, looking 434.31: “beltspanners:” the Gothenburg statue noted by McHugh is of two men in a knife fight. 534.32: “Get your hair curt!:” Get your hair cut!” a perennial bourgeois taunt to arty long-hair types 534.33: “Shamus:” American slang for a private detective. Sherlock Holmes (.32) is an English version. 534.33: “atkinscum’s:” given “Private” (.32), Tommy Atkins, generic British soldier – and, as noted at .17-8, Fred Atkins, Wilde’s accuser 534.34-5: “Eristocras till Hanging Tower:” “Hanging Tower” in Caernarfon, Wales, site of many hangings, here of a trouble-making (eris: discord) aristocrat. (Overtone of (supposed) chess move, mentioned in “Oxen of the Sun”) 534.35: “Steck a javelin through his advowtried heart!:” in addition (see McHugh) to stabbing adulterers with javelins, surely alludes to Jesus’ fifth wound, from a spear-thrust in his side. (Perhaps, with Wilde, a.k.a. Sebastian Melmoth, in the vicinity, a nod to Saint Sebastian, first Christian martyr, pierced with arrows.) See next entry, where the crucified Christ doubles with a man being hanged. 534.36-535.1: ”Jiggety jig my jackadandyline!:” “dancing” of person being hanged 535.1: “waddphez:” “-phiz:” by way of “physiogamy,” slang for face. Compare 67.26. 535.1-12: “And mine…ecclesency:” much of this sequence recycles 30.1-32.33 – the story of how the male principal received his “agnomen” from the king. Here, instead of catching earwigs, he is plowing the field when “His Magnus Maggerstick” (.6-7) shows up at the door. As in the earlier sequence, he duly abases himself and is rewarded with a title. 535.2: “Barktholed von Hunarig, Soesown of Furrow:” Matthew Hodgart notes that “Bartholemew in Hebrew means ‘song of Talmai (abounding in furrows’).” See note after the next. 535.2: “Soesown:” So-and-so 535.2: “Soesown of Furrows (hourspringlike his joussture):” sowing seeds in spring – the season of furrows. Given echoes of 531.35-3 and of the “Soussex Bluffs” of the ejaculating “J. P. Cockshott” ((524.15-6): “Sexsex, my Sexencentaurnary” (.3-4)), this is clearly drawing a comparison, possibly inspired by Shakespeare’s Sonnet 3, between sowing and impregnating. (Compare 175.15-6: “This is the way we sow the seed of a long and lusty morning.”) Also, “-springlike:” ejaculate: to jump, leap, spring 535.2-3: “(hourspringlike his joussture:” FW’s 1939 publication date marks the first appearance of these words in the archives. The first Google Books example of the phrase “spring forward” – meaning setting the clock an hour ahead for Daylight Savings Time – is 1937. (The citation, from The Literary Digest, seems to indicate that the expression had been around for a while.) 535.3: “as urs now, so yous then:” common gravestone inscription: as you are now, so I (or we) was (or were) once. Many variations 535.4-5: “my Sexencentaurnary:” according to biblical chronologies, Shem lived six hundred years. 535.6: “freeholdit:” freehold property is in complete possession of the owner 535.7: “His Magnus Maggerstick:” his (huge) sceptre. Also, swagger stick, sign of authority carried by high-ranking British officer. Also, magistrate 535.7: “city’s leasekuays:” ceremony of presenting the key or keys to the city to a visiting dignitary. Echo of “Ellis on quay” (207.8). It is not clear to your annotator whether: 1. as Bartholomew Vanhomrigh (.2), Lord Mayor of Dublin, he is presenting the city’s keys to the king, or 2. this is the moment when the king proclaimed him Lord Mayor of Dublin. In either case, it forecasts his emergence, in the last pages of this chapter, as alpha-male authority, primarily Caesar Augustus, the keys to whose city, Rome, were to become the province of the pope. 535.8-9: “his pricelist charger, Pferdinamd Allibuster:” named (“-namd”) Alabaster, the horse is (of course) white. See next four entries. 535.8: “pricelist:” perhaps priciest – most expensive 535.9-10: “(yeddonot need light oar till Noreway for you fanned one o’er every doorway):” You needn’t light out as far as Norway to find a white-horse fanlight over every doorway; in fact, there’s one right here. (See entry after next.) Also, a white horse stands for the conquering King William, thus also William the Conqueror, a Norman, therefore, in origin, Norse. 535.10: “Noreway:” the White Horse River is a tributary of the Nore. 535.10: “fanned one o’er every doorway:” compare 262.22-3. The image of a white ((“Allibuster”) alabaster) horse over a door’s fanlight could be a sign of Unionist sympathy. William of the Boyne, whose white horse these images commemorate, is remembered as having once stayed in Chapelizod, and I.2 has HCE, as Chapelizod turnpike-keeper, displaying unnecessarily exuberant “fealty” (see next entry) to a successor, William III. 535.10-11: “allbum’s greethims:” bum = arse. As Americans would say, he is kissing his visitor’s ass. Compare 568.23-6, and see next entry. 535.11: “whole:” hole, as in arse-hole. Seems to include the possibility that he is actually or also – equally-oppositely, turn and turnabout - mooning the visitor. Again, the sodomy charges against Wilde are part of the pattern here. 535.11: “whole of my promises:” being given the keys to the city (or property), the visitor is welcome to the whole of the premises. See .6 and note, .7 and second note. 535.11: “handshakey:” compare “Stuttering Hand:” 4.18. 535.12: “congrandyoulikethems:” God grant you like them 535.13: “handgripper:” response to “handshakey” (.11). Christiani glosses as Swedish att angripa, to attack – an equal-opposite to the two people shaking hands. 535.13: “handgripper thisa breast:” response to “handshakey” (.11). Claddagh ring emblem – two hands holding a crowned heart - in FW is often a sign of Shem/Shaun together. 535.13: “Dose makkers ginger:” Christiani: Dødmager ganger: “death-lean steed, steed lean as death.” Probably a reaction to the white horse of .9-10: death, after all, rides a pale horse. 535.14: “Some one we was with us all fours:” in transition from persecuted to boss man, he is starting to get his own back, against the four tormentors of the preceding sixty pages. Also, to “be on all fours” with someone is to be a collaborator. 535.15: “First liar in Londsend!:” the devil (compare next entry) is said to be “the father of lies.” 535.15: “The spiking Duyvil:” speak(ing) of the devil 535.15-6: “See you scargore on that skeepsbrow!:” given context, overtones of both “Wolf in sheep’s clothing” and “mark of Cain:” gore smeared on his brow. Also, overtone of Passover: lamb’s blood smeared on the doorpost. Oxford editors change “you” to “yon,” which, in context, would make sense: HCE is attempting to deflect blame, not turn the tables. 535.16: “And those meisies! Sulken taarts!:” exasperated indignation, again, at his accusers: and those girls! What tarts they are! (The two girls in the park scandal.) The nested “-en taart-“ revives and reverses the degeneracy (German, entarte) accusation of 534.8. Gist: it’s an outrage – an outrage! - that you ever even took them seriously! 535.16-7: “Mansicker at ere I bluffet konservative?:” five pages after the fact, he’s still indignant at the Sackerson testimony of 530.23-4 and the ridiculously gross interpretation it was given; see 530.28 and note. Oxford editors change “bluffet” to “bluffit.” 535.17: “Shucks!:” popular American (not English or Irish) expression of the time 535.18: “lowest basemeant in hystry!:” compare 33.14: “A baser meaning has been read into these characters.” Here, things have become hysterical: the base meanings that were imputed to his actions during the interrogation just past were the worst in history! You would have to go into the bottom-most basement in all the world to find anything comparably lowdown!! Especially the ones coming from those (“hystry”) hysterical girls!!! 535.23: “headnoise:” head noise: tinnitus, in the ears. Compare next entry. 535.26: “Old Whitehowth he is speaking again. Ope Eustace tube!:” As McHugh says, the ears’ Eustachian tubes, but radios also had (vacuum) tubes, and once again the pub’s radio seems to be coming into play, this time with another electronic/telepathic (see 533.31 and note) communication from the spirit of Oscar Wilde. As for the “Howth” in “Whitehowth,” see notes to 533.29-30, 533.30, and 533.31. In FW, Howth Castle and environs are often associated with electronic communications. Howth was the site of a telephone transmitter since the first years of the twentieth century, was connected to Holyhead by telegraph cable since the middle of the nineteenth century, and has a radio transmitter today - but I have been unable to determine whether such an operation was present and functioning when Joyce was at work on FW. (Any information on this subject would be welcome.) The site of electronic communications headed the other way, towards America, not Europe, was Clifden, on Ireland’s west coast, a datum that crops up several times in FW. Also, see note to .27: the communication here is not from Wilde but from his ghost. Guglielmo Marconi, no less, believed that radio signals broadcast by his invention could carry the voices of the dead. 535.26: “Pity poor whiteoath!:” the summoning of Wilde here may be a response to “Whitehead” (.22), signifying Finn McCool; Finn’s name in the Ossian poems is Fingal, and Wilde’s full name, as noted in Joyce’s essay on Wilde, was Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde. 535.27: “Dear gone mummeries, goby!:” Wilde’s plays were shut down when he was convicted. (Plays are acted by “mummers.”) Oxford editors insert “mumum” before “mummeries.” Like the mother (“Mudder”) of .35, “mummeries” probably reflects Joyce’s endorsement of the theory, implicit in his essay on Wilde, that homosexual men are exceptionally devoted to or dominated by their mothers. 535.27: “Dear gone mummeries…mummery failend:” for possible change in text, see preceding entry. Memory loss in old age. Born in 1854, Wilde was forty-six when he died, but (see McHugh) this appearance is based on an account of post-mortem psychic messages (“messuages from my deadported” (536.2-3)), supposedly originating with him, published in 1923, when he would have been sixty-nine. (They had harsh things to say about Joyce. I know it’s silly, but Joyce’s correspondingly rough handling of Wilde, here and elsewhere, is probably, to some extent, payback. The man sure knew how to hold a grudge.) 535.27-35: “goby…true…snobbing…Nine…dirty...failend..boom..Mudder:” pronunciation indicates that he has caught a cold – and/or, according to 536.13, bronchitis. (In fact, Wilde suffered from both, shortly before his death.) For similar effects, see 417.21-3. 535.28: “I have lived true thousand hells:” in Doctor Faustus, Mephistopheles, also from the domain of the dead, says he is “tormented with ten thousand hells.” 535.33: “My freeandies, my celeberrimates: my happy bossoms, my allfalling fruits of my boom:” friends of my bosom 535.33: “celeberrimates:” in place of celebrities, celibate cell-mates: Wilde in prison. Overtone of “berry/berries” probably related to (see .34 and note) “fruits.” 535.33-4: “my allfalling fruits of my boom:” my unfailing friends of my bosom. (Wilde had some.) Also, Fruit of the Loom: a brand of men’s underwear, around then as now. Also, as falling fruit, probably Newton’s apple, which FW sometimes equates with the Fall in the garden 535.34: “fruits:” OED gives 1895 as the earliest instance of “fruit” as a homosexual. 535.35: “with Mudder:” presumably Wilde’s mother – again, reflecting the then-common belief that homosexuality is a form of arrested development – men as boys eternally trapped in what “Circe” calls the “mammamuffered,” “mothersmothered” stage. (As noted above (.27), the Oxford editors recommend changing “mummeries” to (mumum mummeries.”) Joyce’s essay on Wilde refers obliquely to the story that his mother (herself a presence in FW: see Glasheen for “Wilde, Lady”) had wanted a girl and dressed him in girl’s clothes during his childhood. As McHugh notes, the nearby “fruits of my boom” (.34) echoes the Hail Mary, addressed to Jesus’s mother. 535.36-536.1: “a former colonel. A disincarnated spirit:” Oxford editors change to “a former colonel, disincarnated. A spirit.” McHugh changes to “colonel, disincarnated. He is not all hear. A spirit.” Once again, your annotator remains neutral on issues of genetics. Neither change would, I think, change the main sense: formerly (“colonel,” pronounced “kernel”) carnal, that is, fleshbound, now not. Compare “fleshcase,” quoted in “Scylla and Charybdis” about the soul of a dead child. 536.1: “Rivera in Januero:” Wilde wintered on the French Riviera after his release from prison. 536.1-2: “(he is not all hear):” again (see. 535.23, 26), he is hard of hearing. (McHugh – see note to 535.36-536.1 - relocates these words, minus parentheses, to a position following “colonel, disincarnated.”) Perhaps pertinent that Wilde died of complications of ear surgery; he had long had medical problems with his ears. (This information was available by the time Joyce began writing FW.) Wilde’s father was an authority on ear ailments. 536.2-3: “deadported:” “departed” as euphemism for the dead. In this case, the voice of the dead Wilde, transported via radio. Again, Marconi (and others) believed that radio waves could do that. 536.3: “appunkment:” punk: a boy or young man kept or hired by an older homosexual – one of Wilde’s rent boys, for example 536.4: “”How’s the buttes:” as buttocks (see McHugh) a comment on Wilde’s presumed preference for anal sex; compare .8-9, 350.14-5. 536.4-5: “Everscepistic!:” opposite of antiseptic – again, that testimony about the hotel bedsheets 536.4-6: “Everscepistic! He does not believe in our psychous of the Real Absence, neither miracle wheat nor soulsurgery of P.P. Quemby:” still a skeptic, he does not believe in transubstantiation, either by miraculous powers inherent in the communion wafer (made from wheat) or by the transformative intervention of the P.P. – parish priest. (Wilde converted to Catholicism but was reluctant to go along with some of its doctrines.) Also, “psychous” as in psychic, as in psychic or psychical research, a term usually applied to communication with the dead. (Since that is what is transpiring right now, his skepticism is obviously misplaced.) 536.9-11: “(bonze!)…Bam!:” sound of ringing church bell 536.10: “ballyheart…krumlin…aroundisements:” see McHugh: sites in Ireland, Moscow, and Paris, with its arrondissements. 536.12-3: “Guestermed with the nobelities, to die bronxitic in achershous!:” yesterday with the nobility, today with bronchitis in [aches? achoo?] house! Again, Wilde’s fate, including the common cold 536.13: “old thick whiles:” all the while, but “old” says that this is a memory from Oscar Wilde’s long-lost glamorous past, from “our formed” – former – reflections” (.14). 536.14: “haute white toff’s hoyt:” toff’s white (high) hat. Wilde frequently sported a large white hat. 536.14-5: “stock of eisen all his prop:” Wilde also sported an ornate walking stick. 536.15: “buckely:” like a (Regency) buck – that is, a dandy 536.15: “buckely hosiered from the Royal Leg:” as McHugh says, “The Royal Leg” had been a shop for hosiery, here advertising itself as patronized by royalty - as in “By Appointment to His/Her Majesty…” – to be buckled at the knee. 536.17-8: “his cigare divane:” based on pictures, Wilde smoked cigarettes but not cigars. Still, this presumes otherwise: he is smoking a cigar – what is more, a divine one, with the deferred adjective signalling Frenchified affectation: compare 435.14-6. (So does (“divane”) divan, for “sofa.” A long shot here, but “divane,” compressing “divine” and “sofa,” could be a not-bad FW version of “the divine Sarah,” Wilde’s much-circulated tribute to Sarah Bernhardt. ) Also, cigale: grasshopper. At 417.12-3, the Ondt is smoking “Hosana cigals,” Havana cigars, both as a gesture of triumph over his rival the grasshopper (French cigale) and as a token of sybaritic indulgence. Also, given the ongoing strain of Wildean homosexuality, compare 53.25-6, which equates the smoking of a Havana cigar with fellatio being practiced on a boyish brown-skinned native. In Joyce’s time, Havana was known as a center of sex tourism. 536.18-9: “(He would redden her with his vestas, but ‘tis naught.):” probably from the contemporary convention that cigar-smokers are plutocrats. (In “Cyclops,” Bloom’s choice of a cigar sends just that signal to the Barney Kiernan’s regulars.) Back in the day, he could light cigars, reddening their tips with his burning (“vestas”), matches, ad libitum – but given his comedown in the world, not any more. (See next entry.) Also, sexual innuendo: because of his fame and fortune at the time he might easily have deflowered (“reddened;” compare 383.12), blooded, any number of (“vestas”) virgins, staining the sheets of their bridal beds with blood, but being, after all, homosexual or mostly, he was – “naught” – not up to it, or anyway not so inclined. The “her” in question probably corresponds to Wilde’s wife, the “diva” in “divane” (.18) who he “would husband…verikerfully” (.17). 536.19-20: “incensed and befogged by him and his smoke thereof:” from his cigar 536.21: “zober beerbest in Oscarshal’s winetavern:” Munich’s Octoberfest, celebrated in beerhalls; sober (“zober”) contradicts. (So, in a different way, does “Oscarshal’s:” Oscar Wilde was definitely, for choice, a drinker of wine (and absinthe), not the beer preferred by his fellow Irish.) 536.22:-3: “his mouth still wears that soldier’s scarlet:” compare Salomé: “Thy mouth is like a band of scarlet on a tower of ivory.” (Also, British redcoats, such as (see 534.17-8) Tommy/Fred Atkins.) Similar passages occur throughout Wilde’s writings, including those about Bosie. 536.23-4: “the flaxafloyeds are peppered with salsedine:” the flaxen hair is becoming grey with age, assuming a “salt-and-pepper” coloring. Compare 535.30: “hair hoar.” 536.25-6:” Some day I may tell of his second storey…It looks like some one other bearing my burdens:” 1. with Jesus added to the picture, a version of Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey: one (“second”) version, bearing all the stigmata of one’s sinful life. 2. Joyce described The Picture of Dorian Gray as “rather crowded with lies” and speculated that Wilde may have privately circulated a more honest version. 536.27: "bearing my burden:" somethng a porter does 536.27: “let:” in sense of prevent 536.27: “Kanes nought:” Matthew Kane, model for the Martin Cunningham of Ulysses, drowned in 1904. Glasheen lists him at, among other spots, 388.13 and 393.5, in contexts suggestive of death by drowning. 536.28: “I have bared my whole past…on both sides:” more unconscious admissions: both genital and anal (I have bared my hole) sex – one side, then the other. Also, one of the charges against him is that he exposed himself, front and back: compare 345.11-2. Perhaps relevant that Wilde, the father of two children, was arguably bisexual. 536.29: “Give me even two months by laxlaw:” even if the court’s sentence is remarkably lax – only two months in jail. (Wilde’s was two years.) Oxford editors insert “my” before “two.” 536.30: “my first broadcloth is business:” “broadcloth” has connotations of basic material, especially in a spiritual sense – what one is really made of 536.33: “O rhyme us:” the version of the Lord’s Prayer to follow will rhyme “come” with “won” (.34-5). Also, given context (e.g. .28), Oh ream us! (OED puts the earliest instance of “ream” in this sense at 1942 – but, again, obscenities generally defy exact dating.) 536.34-5: “wild heart in Homelan:” wild homeland - a contradiction, or at least a conflict. “Wild” is of course another allusion to Wilde. 536.36: “There is nothing like leuther:” as (McHugh) “There is nothing like leather,” an advertising slogan for the sort of product likely to be sold in “Harrod’s” (.35). Also, we have just heard a partially Germanized (“Mine kinder, mine wohl”) version of the Lord’s Prayer. 536.36-1: “And nosty mens in gladshouses they shad not peggot stones:” as happened at the end of I.2. The presence, noted by McHugh, of both Gladstone and Pigott identifies the victim as Parnell. By Joyce’s reckoning (see, for instance, 365.10-12 and note) when it came to aberrant sex, Gladstone’s preoccupation with prostitutes left him in no position to cast any stones at the monogamous Parnell. The same Gladstone / glass houses conceit is present at 41.35. Compare next entry. 537.1-2: “The elephant’s house is his castle:” the reason you shouldn’t throw stones at people in glass, or any, houses is that an Englishman’s house is his castle. 537.3-4: “in rinunciniation of pomps:” line from Catholic baptismal ceremony: “I renounce the devil and all his pomps.” Near the end of his life, Wilde converted to Catholicism. See next five entries. He is also, probably, abjuring any more anal sex: compare 568.24, where a “pompey cushion” is an arse, being kissed. 537.4: “a wax too held in hand:” “wax:” candle. appropriate for a confirmation or first communion; in the next line we get a baptism, in the two lines after that, two conversions, in the line after that another baptism. 537.5: “do dope:” variant of FW’s “tauftauf” motif, for “I baptize” – usually followed by a version of “mishe mishe” (3.9) – here, as the “miscisprinks,” following on the same line 537.6: “filthered Ovocnas:” holy water (see McHugh), with the filth filtered out, for baptism 537.6: “Browne umbracing Christina:” added to all the other church business, a wedding. McHugh’s annotation adds a prelate’s conversion, to Protestantism. 537.7: “convert me into a selt:” not a good start – if he really wants to be converted into a Celt, he might begin by spelling it right. 537.8: “antenaughties:” people – here, probably, baptized infants – before they became, inevitably, naughty. Probably an attempt to trivialize and dismiss the charges against him: okay, so I was naughty once; isn’t everybody? 537.8-9: “Sigismond Stolterforth:” evidently a real person: an 1819 Irish legal document records his “naturalization” – probably, that is, his being “convert[ed] to a selt [Celt]” (.7). 537.9: “Rabbin:” raven – in FW, always or almost always Noah’s raven, released from the ark. Also, given Scandinavian sound of “Sigismond Stolterforth,” a Viking invader’s raven flag, “auspicer” of rapine and (“Robroost”) robbing. (Compare 480.1.) Also, see 539.35-540.1 and note. 539.9-10: “Leecher Rutter:” both rapine and rape, by a lecherous rutter 537.11: “westerneyes:” westernize; recognize 537.11-2: “westerneyes those poor sunuppers and outbreighten their land’s eng:” 1. Land’s End is the last spot in England to receive the sun’s rays, just before the easternmost point of Ireland. 2. This echoes words in the last line of “The Dead” – “the descent of their last end.” At the time, Gabriel is thinking of Ireland’s west, in a room whose window faces west. 3. Given Columbus echo (along with Noah) of .9-10, this would seem to draw on a familiar equal-opposite trope, that when the sun is down in Australia (Down Under, land of the (“sunuppers”) sundowners) it’s up in the British Isles - therefore, of course, never setting on the empire. 4. Following on 3., an imperialist’s agenda: we’re going to westernize those poor down-unders and brighten up (and Britain-up) their language, thus seeing to it that the sun, somewhere in our domains, is always up, shining brightly. 537.12-4: “A man should stump up and I will pay my pretty decent trade price for my glueglue gluecose, peebles, were it even as this is the legal eric for infelicitous conduict:” contradicts beginning statement (537.29…) that he will “protest” any verdict against him, however lenient. Here, he will be a good sport and pay up. Also, along with the financial sense – a man should pay his debts – the analogous settling of accounts with God. (Compare the end of “Grace” and the beginning of Portrait’s chapter four.) 537.13: “trade price for my glueglue gluecose:” “Cyclops” begins with a tradesman suing a customer for reneging on a bill for tea and sugar. Again, compare note to 78.12-3: the proprietor of the Mullingar would have also been a part-term grocer. Some of the rest of this sentence relates to buying and selling of merchandise. 537.14-5: “(here incloths placefined my pocketanchoredcheck:” with American spelling: check enclosed, as the “eric” – fine – for his “infelicitous conduct.” As with the “antenaughties” of line 8, he is minimizing the charges to which he is admitting: a fine would be for a misdemeanor, not a felony. Also, checkered handkerchief 437.17: “times prebellic:” possible allusion to Sir Daniel Bellingham, the first lord mayor of Dublin. As McHugh notes, the names of other lord mayors will soon follow. 537.20-21: “my quarter brother:” occurring at the beginning of sequence preoccupied with race and race-mixing, this may imply “quadroon.” Shem and Kate have both intermittently been described as people of color. Shem sometimes combines Noah’s son Shem, the first Semite, with Ham, the first black. At 141.28-9, Kate is introduced as “Dinah,” conventionally a name for black female servants. Compare note to .24. 537.22: “constoutuent:” in business or legal context, a proxy, that is a (“locum” (.21) locum tenens 537.23: “at goodbuy:” a good buy – at a good price. Compare 77.29: “goodbuy bierchepes;” also 357.3, 406.36. 537.24: “Blanchette:” a name chosen either to exaggerate her degree of whiteness for commercial reasons (compare 538.4 and note), or a cruel joke: Dorothy Parker once met a society lady with a black maid she’d renamed “Vanilla.” In black-white racial relations, commonly known as “passing.” Compare 538.1-17 and note, 538.4 and note. 537.26-7: “Deuterogamy as in several places of Scripture:” Deuteronomy permits the owning (and selling) of slaves, and, in some cases, bigamy. Also, “Deuter-:” daughter. 537.28: “verbanned:” a coinciding contrary: they should be both verbalized and banned. Alludes to the “excluded books” (.27) of the Apocrypha. 537.28ff: “would seem eggseggs excessively haroween…:” gist: although legal, it would really bother me to sell my wife/one of my wives/my daughter into slavery, especially at such a cut-rate price. Oxford editors have “harroween.” 537.29: “two punt…one pollard:” two pounds, one dollar. Oxford editors have “twa” for “two,” which would add a Scottish note. Compare next entry. 537.29: “punt Scotch:” the term “Scotch pound” occurs into the late 19th century – possibly a pound printed at the discontinued Scotch Mint. 537.29: “pollard:” dollar 537.30: “Frick’s Flame, Uden Sulfer:” Christiani glosses as Scandinavian for Frigga’s flame, without sulphur. 537.30: “three pipples on the bitch:” three nipples: a sign that a woman was a (“bitch”) witch. See note to .32. Also, as the last in a list of currencies of diminishing value, worthless 537.30-1: “Sulfer…enquick:” quick, as opposed to dead, sulphur, supposed to have been an ingredient in Greek fire. 537.31: “enquick me if:” 1. See previous entry: light me on fire and burn me up with a flame’s “quick,” from (“strikest”) striking your match, if I’m lying. 2. Equal-opposite: “unquick,” kill me, if I’m lying. 3. No: acquit me. 537.31-2 : “I did cophetuise milady’s maid:” I did covet my lady’s maid 537.32: “In spect of her beavers she is a womanly and sacred:” in respect of her behavior she is an example of sacred womanhood. Also, tradition that witches have beards: at 209.14, one of the washerwomen seems to qualify. 537.35: “Donkeybrook:” includes donkey, “bray”ing (.34) – here, at the clowns at the fair 538.1-17: “If she…meanit:” registers the conflicted and conflicting impulses of a white man considering the question of whether or not to purchase, perhaps for the purpose of freeing, a black woman, sometimes trying to pass for white, on the slave market. 538.1: “Juno Moneta:” Roman temple where money was minted 538.1-2: “irished Marryonn Teheresiann:” “Irished:” a foreign name changed into an Irish (not Gaelic) equivalent. “Maryanne,” “Theresa,” and “Ann” would all qualify. Compare note to .4. 538.2: “for her consideration:” for a consideration – i.e. money 538.3: “Ledwidge Salvatorious:” should he be her savior? It depends. 538.4: “still further talc slopping over her cocoa contours:” in addition to Irishing her name, she is trying to whiten her dark skin with talc. If she keeps doing that, she will get so white/white-ish that (“I should not be” (.5)) he will no longer be interested in saving her. 538.7: “Just feathers!:” just nonsense! 538.7: “Nanenities!:” Inanities! 538.7: “ochtroyed:” given context, probable overtone of octoroon. Compare 537.20-1 and note. 538.8: “super melkkaart:” supermarket. (The word was in circulation since 1907.) 538.8: “melkkaart:” Afrikaans melkert: a tart made with milk, which is white – given context, probably a race-related comment. (Compare “Oreo,” at one point a disparaging term for assimilated African-Americans: black on the outside, white on the inside.) Compare next entry. 538.9-10: “best Brixton high yellow, no outings: cent for cent on Auction’s Bridge:” See McHugh on “high yellow.” Brixton's population had/has large proportion of people of color. This is Yawn/HCE indignantly imagining the voice of an auctioneer selling a slave – something, he keeps insisting, he would never countenance, except perhaps in order to free her. The auctioneer is talking up the slave’s degree of relative whiteness; see notes to 537.20-21, 537.23. “Auction’s Bridge” would seem to be a reference to Auction Bridge (a newly popular pastime during the FW years), but as far as I can see, nothing in the vicinity corresponds. 538.9: “no outings:” compare 142.23: “outings fived,” where “outings” are apparently the days or nights a servant will be allowed a reprieve from work. Here, the number (for a slave) is of course zero. 538.10-3: “’Twere a honnibel crudelty wert so tentement to their naktlives and scatab orgias we devour about in the mightyevil roohms of encient cartage:” with a pause after “so:” If it were so, if I did sell slaves (which I do not), it would constitute a level of crude cruelty tantamount to those of the natives, with their naked orgies, that we read about, as well as in sensationalist stories of mediaeval Rome and ancient Carthage. (In other words: in our treatment of the savages we’d be just as bad as we say they are; in fact, ancient history testifies that we have been that bad, or even worse.) Also, “honnibel:” the Carthaginian, therefore African, Hannibal, sometimes represented as dark-skinned, was, according to Machiavelli, famous for his cruelty. “Tentement:” natives living in tents. “Scatab orgias:” according to tradition, scarab rings often held poisons; the (“-b orgias”) Borgias, including the Borgia popes of Rome, were famous poisoners. “Devour:” to read compulsively, here with overtone of cannibalism. “Mightyevil roohms of encient cartage:” according to Flaubert’s Salammbô: A Realistic Romance of Ancient Carthage, the Carthaginians, among other cruelties, performed sacrifices of first-born sons. Oxford editors have “einceint” for “encient.” 538.13: “old Crusos:” crusado: Portuguese gold or silver coin. Oxford editors replace “old” with “alled.” 538.13: “soul of gold:” from The Book of the Dead, as translated by E. A. Wallis Budge, a Joyce source: “[These] words are to be said over a soul of gold inlaid with precious stones and laid on the breast of Osiris.” 538.13-6: “A pipple on the panis, two claps on the cansill, or three pock pocks cassey knocked on the postern! Not for one testey tickey culprik’s coynds, ore for all ecus in cunziehowffse!:” for some reason, this sequence becomes obsessed with sex and venereal disease: a pimple on the penis, clap of the penis, pox, testes, testes, anus/prick, testes, cunt. Probably relevant that Wilde, still a presence, almost certainly died of syphilis. 538.15: “knocked:” given context, an auction knock, signaling a sale 538.16: “ore:” gold or silver ore 538.16: “So hemp me:” hang me; lower-class condemned were hanged in hemp, aristocrats (154.10) with silk. 538.16: “So hemp me Cash:” see note to 538.1. “Cash” replacing “God” – as in “the almighty Dollar” 538.18-554.10: “My herrings!...Joahanahanahana!:” increasingly as it goes along, this sequence mimics Res Gestae Divi Augustus, in English The Deeds of the Divine Augustus – the Emperor Augustus’ self-advertising summing-up of his accomplishments. It details battles won, foes vanquished, peace made, buildings built, blessings bestowed on Roman citizens, expansion of empire and subjection and civilization of provinces. In Joyce’s version the city is Dublin rather than Rome. The sequence moves from prehistoric accounts of the Dublin area to a tourist promotion for ”Drumcollgher” (540.9), Drom Cuill-Choille, in some versions Dublin’s original name, to an ever-expanding range of conquest, settlement, and civic improvement. Augustus’ famous boast that he found Rome brick and left it marble (not included in the Res Gestae) is in the background. Augustus’ wife was named Livia, the River Liffey is Anna Livia, and much of the testimony here is about his courtship and conquest of her; the benisons bestowed on the city founded on the Liffey are also gifts to her. Links to the document in the original, along with an English translation, are available on the Wikipedia entry for “Res Gestae Divi Augustus.” This self-advertisement will really get going at line 540.9, which launches a rosy description of local attractions of the sort one might expect from a tourist agency or, in America, Chamber of Commerce brochure. Before then, these lines will mostly constitute one last go at clearing the air of rumors about the park scandal. 538.18: “surdity:” surd: an irrational number; occurs in Portrait, chapter five. Perhaps an overtone of “sordid.” 538.20: “One line with! One line, with with:” McHugh’s annotation: “(his one-line advertisement to sell the slave or milk cart.)” I do not understand this, but see .1 and note. Also, possibly signaling a telephone connection: party-line telephones were “on line” with one another, and protocol dictated either hanging up if you found yourself sharing a conversation or making your presence known. 538.20-1: “saumone:” someone 538.21: “boyne alive O:” “cockles and mussels, alive, alive O,” from “Molly Malone,” who sells her wares in “Dublin’s fair city.” The Boyne, like the Liffey, has a salmon run. Compare next entry. 538.22: “Catheringnettes:” gathering nets, for fishing 538.22: “Mycock:” see note to .21. Also, Mulligan in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “Blessed Mary Anycock!” – a ribald pun on Catholicism’s Saint Marguerite Marie Alacoque 538.23-5: “were…I their covin guardient, I would not know to contact such gretched youngsteys:” more protestations of innocence: even if I were the legal guardian of those girls, I wouldn’t touch them – wouldn’t even know how to. (As usual, protesting too much, he overdoes it.) Gretchen, also called Margarete, is Faust’s young love. (Goethe (“Gouty”) will put in an appearance at 539.6.) 538.23: “moon at aube:” more at ease 538.23: “at aube with hespermun:” Hesperus – Venus – is morning (aube) as well as evening star. 538.24: “covin guardient:” well into the 19th century, Covent Garden was known as a haunt of prostitutes – probably why Dublin’s Fishamble Street becomes “Fleshambles” (.22-3) – a meat market. “Covin” – not “coven” – has sense of secret or conspiratorial. 538.25: “in my ways from Haddem:” incorporates expression “I wouldn’t know him – or her – from Adam.” 538.25: “suistersees:” sesterces: Roman coins. Also, in context of park scandal, echoes FW’s “sosie sesthers” thread (3.12) – the two girls of the scandal. 538.27-8: “Her is one which rassembled to mein enormally:” not sure, but he seems to be proposing that the accusers mistook someone else for him – someone who greatly resembled him. (Compare Bloom in “Circe:” “It was my brother Henry. He is my double.”) He goes on to name him as “Deucollion” (.29, .33) – Double-balled – and, ironically, berates him for the “shrubbery [that is, shabby] trick” (.34) of letting him take the blame. See .29-30 and note. By this reading, “Her” is German Herre (as in 538.13) and, perhaps, a slurred “Here.” 538.28: “enormally:” enormously 538.29: “Deucollion:” a preliminary version of “Drumcollogher” (540.9), both a town in County Limerick and, more importantly, the name given Dublin in a Percy French song that will initiate the bragging about its charms. 538.29-30: “Each habe goheerd, uptaking you are innersence, but we sen you meet sose infance:” somebody is continuing the indictment: even with the legal presumption of innocence, the fact is that we saw you with those infants, those (female) kids. (Again, not sure, but I suggest that the speaker here is diverting the accusations to another man, who “rassembled to mein enormally”) resembled him enormously, or so he says. Oxford editors have “goheard” for “goheerd.” 538.31-3: “Evilling chimbes is smutsick rivulverblott but thee hard casted pigstenes upann Congan’s shootsmen in Schottenhof, ekeascent?:” main thread is the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha, his wife. The first five words here recall the evil state of the world before Zeus washed it clean (of (“smutsick”) smut – dirt) with his flood; the casting of “pigstenes” is the husband and wife casting stones over their shoulders, stones becoming (for him) men and (for her) women as they strike the earth; the story of Jason’s dragons’ teeth becoming soldiers (“shootsmen”) is present as well. See .36 and note. 538.32: “casted thereass pigstenes:” certainly sounds like a compressed version of “casting pearls before swine.” Also, in context of accusations against HCE, revisits the stone-throwing attack of I.2, as recalled in I.4. 538.32-3: “shootsmen in Schottenhof:” Scotsmen (and policemen, armed) in Scotland Yard 538.33: “I liked his Gothamm chic:” I like your cheek!: sarcastic way of saying someone has been showing impudence – behaving above his station. 538.33: “Gothamm chic:” New York stylishness. (Not coincidental that Manhattan (“minhatton”) shows up at 539.2). In context, probably sarcastic: from his perspective, New York is the place of new-money upstarts. (In general, allusions to New York City are quite dense in III.4, especially from the "Amstadam, sir" address of 532.06, which probably encompasses ("New Aimsterdames" (509.24), New Amsterdam as well.) For more on the New York theme running through this sequence, see first entry for 539.31 and entry for 539.33.) 538.34-539.4: “I will…manhere:” revisits and reenacts the scenario of 36.21-34. Charged with improper behavior involving girls, he swears up and down to his innocence, “upon the monument” (36.24). 538.34-5: “I will put my oathhead under my whitepot:” to swear an oath to his innocence, he will put on his white hat – in FW, usually a sign of class or pretensions to same – for his court appearance. (Compare Bloom on men’s hats: “These pots we have to wear.”) On the other hand, chamber pots are typically white. Compare 522.6-7 and note. 538.36: “Pelagios:” according to Wikipedia account, Zeus caused the flood because of “the hubris of the Pelasgians.” See note to 31.3. 539.3: “unclothed:” unclouded 539.3-4: “unclothed virtue by the longstone erectheion of our allfirst manhere:” Adam, the first man, naked, with an erection. (“Virtue:” Latin vir, man.) Because the incident in question happened in Phoenix Park, the “longstone erectheion” is probably the Wellington Monument. (But see McHugh: also or alternatively the “pillar in D[ublin] marking place where the Danes landed” – and starting at .17 there will be remembrances of the landing of the Danes, at .28 of their expulsion.) In any case, the main sense is that he willing to swear to his innocence by any token asked for, including a stack of “buybibles” (.2), of whatever version. Probably relevant that, etymologically, to “testify” (.2) is to swear while grabbing one’s testicles – not the same as an erection, but close by. 539.7-8: “in this that is and that this is to come:” now and in times to come 539.8-13: “Like…good:” describing his (“prudentials” (.12)) Prudential Insurance “policy” (or policies): “homesters” (home owners’ insurance) “accident benefits” (enumerated – fire, plague, war). Compare entries for .12-3, .13-4. 539.12: “doing my dids bits:” doing my bit – an expression often used during wartime, by both civilians and soldiers 539.11-2: “cramkrieged:” Crom Crúach: O Hehir says, “ancient idol overthrown by Patrick.” 539.12-3: “prudentials:” from Latin for “having foresight:” appropriate for an insurance customer, or company – see entry for .13-4. Despite quite extraordinary setbacks in the “accident benefits” (.10) insurance line (extraordinary indeed: as McHugh notes, the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, coming all at once) he has “made…good” (.12-3), or at least hopes he will make good, with his clients. 539.13-4: “stolemines or something of that sorth in the sooth of Spainien:” I doubt it’s an accident that this comes one line after “prudentials.” The insignia of the Prudential Insurance Company is and was the Rock of Gibraltar, which is at the tip of the south of Spain, and was, at least according to some versions, stolen from Spain. (The citizen in “Cyclops” says that it was “grabbed by the foe of mankind,” the English, and Molly, who grew up on Gibraltar, essentially concurs.) All those accident claims coming at once have taxed the company’s resources, but fortunately its headquarters turned out, he’s heard, to be situated on a gold mine. He may have “failed lamentably by accident benefits” (.10-1) at first, but just wait: something will turn up. (The Micawberish “something of that sorth” is not reassuring: as McHugh notes,” “stolemines” might be either gold mines or coal mines, or something of that sort.) 539.15: “I abhor myself vastly:” “abhor:” also adore. Another equal-opposite 539.16-7: “hotelmen:” compare .9-10: similar address to “homesters.” A “hotel man” was a hotel owner. Again: the Mullingar House was at one point an inn, so he may be, in his mind, addressing colleagues. His point is that he has come home, back to Ireland. 539.17: “deep drowner:” kenning-like expression for ocean 539.18-9: “three plunges of my ruddertail:” marking the three horizontal strokes of HCE’s siglum E. Here, also begetting his three children, Issy and the twins. Compare 314.12, where “rudder” doubles with “rutter,” and note. 539.19: “ruddertail:” a rudder-tail is a kind of rudder found on early twentieth-century airplanes and blimps. 539.21: “brixtol:” both high-class Brighton, at one time the residence of the Prince Regent, and (see 538.9-10) low-class Brixton, with its “mean straits” (.22). As usual, equal-opposites may be present. By the time of Graham Greene’s 1938 novel Brighton Rock, Brighton was clearly known to be a pretty seedy place; Bristol, on the other hand (see note to .32-3), had been the point of departure for Strongbow’s royally sponsored conquest of Ireland. Brighton is on England’s east coast, and Bristol on the west. Given context, it seems pertinent that Bristol was a center of England’s Atlantic slave trade. 539.22: “mean…evorage:” mean and average, in statistical senses 539.24: “then-on-sea:” a play on fashionable resorts with names like “X-on-the-sea,” “Y-by-the-sea.” Being on the sea is not really that great if it means that the location in question is a swamp or – see next entry – bog. He has turned waterlogged Dublin into a habitable city with what 541.9-10 will call “murage” and “drains.” This introduces the “murage” part: walls, fortifications, the pale, “palisades” (.26). 539.24-5: “hole of Serbonian bog:” from Paradise Lost: “A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog…where armies whole have sunk.” This marks the point at which he starts bragging about how he turned the boglands of Dublin into a city. 539.27: “martiell siegewin:” his success called for imposition of marshal law. 539.28-9: “in that year which I have called myriabellous:” as McHugh says, his Anna Mirabilis. At the moment, the context makes clear that the year is 1014, the speaker a version of Brian Boru. (Compare entry for 539.35-540.1.) “Myriabellous” echoes both Latin bellus, war (“miria bellis” would be, approximately, “countless wars”) and “Anna”’s last name, Plurabelle. 539.30: “prusshing stock of Allbrecht:” a Prussian stock, as in “stock and collar,” was exceptionally high and stiff. Probably an allusion to Prince Albert, with his Germanic origins (though not predominantly Prussian). Also, Bonheim identifies Allbrecht as Alberich, “guardian of the Nibelung hoard:” would fit the context, about the setting and maintenance of boundaries. 539.31: “patroonship:” the “patroons” were privileged New Yorkers with land-holding legacies along the Hudson River dating back to the Dutch. Well into the twentieth century, the word signified old-money aristocracy. The nearby presence of “palisades” (a Hudson River landmark) and “Chollyman” (see second note for .32) suggests that Joyce is consulting some source of New York lore. 539.31: “good kingsinnturns:” compare 466.19-21, with its singing of lines from the novelty song “Rhoda and her Pagoda.” Rhoda is a social climber who hopes to make her way up by attracting high-class patrons to her tea shop, and one of them is “the Duke of Kensington Gardens.” (As with the other names to follow in this list, there was and is no such person.) 539.32-3: “Hungry the Loaved and Hangry the Hathed:” a tea-shop customer would presumably be somewhat hungry. Also, as with (627.17) “lothing,” loving and loathing, both Henry the Loved and Henry the Hated. (Depending on whether one is English or Irish, either could describe Henry II, whose authorization of the occupation of Ireland is included (see McHugh) at .21-2.) and of course Henry the Eighth, who forcibly converted England (but not Ireland) to Protestantism. 539.32: “T. R. H. Urban First:” introduced as one of the “kingsinnturns, T. R. H.” (McHugh: “Their Royal Highnesses”) – but, apparently there have been no British or European King Urbans; there have however been several Pope Urbans. According to Wikipedia, Pope Urban I was “the first pope whose reign can be definitely dated.” 539.32: “Champaign Chollyman:” “Cholly Knickerbocker” was the assumed name of a New York newspaper gossip columnist, current in Joyce’s time. Both first and last name alluded to New York’s old-money Dutch - incidentally the reason that, for Americans, “Van,” as in Jackie Gleason’s “Reginald Van Gleason,” can still signify inherited wealth. 539.35-540.1: “Flukie of the Ravens…two-toothed dragon worms with allsort serpents:” Viking ships, with dragon prows and raven flags. Compare 62.4, 480.1. The speaker’s voice is combining Brian Boru, who expelled the Vikings at the Battle of Clontarf (“slauchterday of cleantarriffs” (.27)) with Patrick, who expelled the snakes. 539.36: “famine:” farming – part of the “toils of domestication” (.34) 540.1: “dragon worms:” finally, the grammatical subject of this long (229 words) sentence, the predicate being “has completely seceded” (.2-3): the upshot of all the preceding was that, as a combination of Brian Boru and Saint Patrick, he expelled Danes and snakes from Ireland. (Grammatically, there really ought to be a comma after “dragon,” but Joyce sometimes leaves such matters up to the reader.) 540.12: “Vedi Drumcollogher e poi Moonis:” Mink: “Many lives were lost in a cinema fire in D[rumcollogher] in 1926.” (McHugh notes that this line is based on “See Naples & then die.”) Oxford editors replace the period after “Moonis” with an exclamation mark. 540.13-5: “Pro clam a shun! Pip! Peep! Pipitch! Ubipop jay piped ibipep goes the whistle:” given that the locus is seaborne and the speaker a (“capt in” (540.18)) captain, this may be the sound of a boatswain’s whistle, announcing a forthcoming proclamation from the captain. Also – see next entry – the sound of a traffic jam 540.15: “Here Tyburn throttled:” besides hangman’s noose, “throttled” in sense of engine throttle: Marble Arch, located adjacent to the former Tyburn site, became a center of traffic congestion, and cars at the time had throttles. “Throttled” is in past tense because this is an improvement – driving, however aggravating, is better than hanging – and he’s responsible for it. 540.17: “Estoesto! Estote sunto!:” S. O. S.! S. O. S.! (Ship’s Morse Code distress signal: note (“capt in”) captain of next line. Follows after “Pip! Peep! Pipitch!” of .14, which certainly sounds like Morse Code. Elsewhere in FW, the usual exchange is between Morse Code’s two dots (ii, for Iseult) and two dashes (T t for Tristan.) 540.17-8: “From the hold of my capt in altitude till the mortification that’s my fate:” from head to foot. Compare “corns on his kismet” in “Nausicaa,” where “kismet” = fate = feet. Also, repeats Finn topography of 7.29-33: head is Howth, Dublin’s highest altitude, feet at the Magazine Fort – fortification – in Phoenix Park. “Hold:” height, with perhaps the sense of a castle’s hold, paralleling fortification. Perhaps “mortification” because Howth was once a (“leper’s lack” (.31-2) lovers’ leap. (Compare .31-2 and note.) 540.18-9: “The end of aldest mosest is the beginning of all thisorder so the last of their hansbailis shall the first in our sheriffsby:” the old law of Moses yields to the new covenant, teaching that the last shall be first. Disorder / this (new) order is the inevitable result. 540.21-2: “under them lintels are staying my horneymen meet each his mansiemagd:” “Fornicate” derives from Latin fornix, arch, from the Roman convention that prostitutes stationed themselves under arches, and some “lintels” are arched. The fancy girls are entertaining the horny men. “Horneymen” echoes honeymoon, and, as McHugh notes, hornies are also the police. (Compare next entry.) Also, of course, “horny” means sexually aroused. 540.21: “horneymen meet each is mansiemagd:” in “Lestrygonians,” Bloom thinks of “plainclothes” police “courting slaveys” – housemaids – in order to get information about anti-British activities. 540.22-3: “peers and gints, quaysirs and galleyliers:” peers (members of the aristocracy) and gents. For “quaysirs” see 208.36-209.9, where a bunch of gabbing quay-dwellers are the waterside equivalent of corner boys – that is, street-corner layabouts. “Galleyliers:” a galley slave would be at the bottom of the pecking order. With one or two equal-opposite qualifications, the .22-5 list is socially downward – essentially an endorsement of a four-stage hierarchy. This seems odd for a running catalogue (see McHugh) of the titles of Ibsen plays, but perhaps the point is that even the radical writer has been assimilated, into “Abeyance” (.25). 540.24-5: “pullars off societies:” a society devoted to pulling one another off would be a circle jerk. 540.25: “pushers on rothmere’s homes:” Lord Rothermere, newspaper magnate. His brother Alfred, also a press baron, was born in Chapelizod. Not clear what “pushers on” are here, but in any case they are not the owners. (In context, “pullers and pushers” might mean something like today’s “movers and shakers,” but at the time the phrase occurred almost exclusively in accounts of mechanical engineering, especially for trains.) Equal-opposite: Rothermere, born Harold Harmsworth, was both an ultra-Tory elitist and a publisher of yellow-press tabloids catering to the lower orders. During the FW years he supported Mussolini and, later, Hitler. 540.25: “rothmere’s homes:” besides (McHugh) Ibsen’s Rosmershome, Glasheen cites Johannes Rosmer, the play’s protagonist. 540.25: “Obeyance:” obeisance 540.27-8: “lives are on sure in sorting:” life insurance – recommended, because life is unsure and uncertain. 540.27-8: “good Jock Shepherd…Jonathans, wild and great:” more assimilation: two English-speaking outliers (and outlaws) brought into the fold: Jock the Scot and Brother Jonathan, personification of America before Uncle Sam. 540.27: “good Jock:” good joke 540.28: “in sorting:” and certain; uncertain 540.29-30: “Blaublaze devilbobs have gone from the mode:” 1. They are no longer in fashion; 2. They are no longer around, period. 3. Probably a memory of Ulysses’ Blazes Boylan (see .35), of “Sirens”’ “Blazure’s skyblue bow and eyes,” whose nickname connotes the devil. Incorporates two common oaths: “What the blue blazes!” and “What the devil!” 4. Perhaps an allusion to Myerbeer’s opera Robert le Diable 540.31: “reere as glovars’ metins:” like a chess player regarding checkers, a glover would look askance at mitten-makers. 540.31: “glovars metins:” lovers’ meetings 540.31-2: “lepers lack:” Lax-halaup, later Leixlip – the Liffey’s salmon-leap. Also, the reason that lepers lack are either that he’s cured leprosy – during Joyce’s life, it was incurable - or, more likely, expelled or killed all its victims. Also – compare previous entry – lovers’ leap 530.34-5: “Miledd..Me ludd…hide park…Minuinette:” ladies and men, lords and ladies. (Helmut Bonheim has no entry for “Minuinette,” but it can sound like a derivative of German minne, love.) Hyde Park, especially its Rotten Row, was London’s best-known spot for high-class flirting. 540.34: “Me ludd:” traditional pronunciation of “My lord” when an English barrister addresses the judge 540.34: “hide park seek Minuinette:” Dating to 1900, a London-to-Brighton automobile race called the Mignonette-Luap has its starting line in Hyde Park. At least in recent years, all entries are antiques. 540.35: “Blownose aerios we luft to you:” Bluenose is the name of a famous racing schooner built in 1921. “Aerios” and “luft” in proximity surely indicate something like air-flight; “luft” also echoes “luff,” term for the ruffling of sails when heading too close to the wind. Lifting and luffing will result from the blowing of a nose, which will sound like an aria; compare “Sirens,” where Bloom speculates that nose-blowing might sound musical to the Shah of Persia. Cold weather, of the sort supposed to go with the common cold, with its nose-blowing, conventionally causes blue noses. 540.35: “Firebugs, good blazes!:” Arsonists, go to blazes! Either poetic justice or an incitement to some drastic creative destruction: burn it down so that we can build something better in its place. 540.35-6: “Lubbers, kepp your poudies drier!:” Oxford editors have “keep” for “kepp.” Landlubbers (as opposed to (“Seamen” (.36)), keep your feet (Greek ποδ, pod) drier! Compare previous entry. Just as arsonists should have no trouble making “blazes,” dry feet should come naturally to landlubbers. 541.1: “Seven ills:” seven hills of Rome 541.1: “Seaventy seavens: overtone of Seven Heavens/Seventh Heaven 541.5: “I raised a dome on the wherewithouts of Michan:” Dublin’s St. Michan’s Church has no dome. 541.6: “wellworth building:” Woolworth’s Five and Ten Cent stores catered to customers seeking low prices. Compare “Eumaeus:” “well worth twice the money.” 541.7: “cloud cupoled campaniles:” a bell tower so high that it couples with the clouds. Also, Florence’s Piazza del Duomo – site of Giotto’s Campanile and the Cupola del Brunellesci. (This masterbuilder’s means may be brutal, but he certainly puts up some memorable stuff.) Speaking of Florence, note “floriners” (541.14), as in florins, a British coin named for a Florentine coin. You can’t build the Duomo without serious money, and in fact, for all the talk of conquest (Waterloo, marshal law (.22, .23), etc.), management of money, on an international scale, is behind most or all of the accomplishments listed here. 541.9: “murage:” license to tax for the construction of walls 541.9: “lestage:” payment for permission to load a ship 541.9-10: “mains…drains:” main drains, main drainage – as part of his city-building infrastructure: draining, building drains, installing waterworks. (542.5-7 follows up with pipe-laying: fresh water arriving through “longitudes of elm.”) 541.12: “struck for myself and muched morely by token:” coins are “struck” when minted. As head of government, he has solved his financial problems by monopolizing the power to mint money, in tokens. 541.14: “Sirrherr of Gambleden ruddy money:” comment on awarding of knighthoods and other honors to plutocrats whose money has come from unsavory sources. “Ruddy money:” red (blood) money; a gambling den, as opposed to a licensed casino, would have been illegal. 541.14-5: “Madame of Pitymount I loue yous:” story similar to .14. The madame runs a pawn shop, but he treats her with reverence – love, even (I love you) because he owes her money: I. O. U. Compare “Wandering Rocks,” where according to Father Conmee, Mrs M’Guiness, the pawnbroker, has “a queenly mien.” Probably not a coincidence that “floriners” appears on the next line: Florence’s Medici family is connected in legend with pawnbroking. 541.15-6: “matt…mark!...(Luc!):” the Synoptics: John is apparently missing. 541.16: “(Luc!):” Luck! He was lucky to survive the slaughter in which millions fell (probably WW I). Also, with all the money talk in the vicinity (for instance German “mark!” of previous line), probable overtone of lucre. 541.17: “Atabey!:” Attaboy! Also, compare 29.22: an arriving ship is “The Bey for Dybbling.” See next entry. 541.18: “Fugabollags!:” Bloom in “Nausicaa:” “Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the dark, lowing out like seacows. Faugh a ballagh! Out of that, bloody curse to you!” “Lusqu’au bout!,” following, is presumably a mariner’s warning or command. 541.19-20: “If they had ire back of eyeball they got danage on front tooth:” if, during the battle, they had eyes in the backs of their heads (for warding off attacks from the rear), nonetheless they got their teeth knocked out from in front. You can’t win for losing, because you can’t look both ways at once. 541.18-542.12: “tolkies shraking…unto me!:” for this sequence, compare Bloom in “Sirens:” “Sea, wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. There's music everywhere. Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. No, that's noise.” Most of the action here becomes noise, often turning into music. 541.22: “Shackleton:” Sackerson the manservant, generally a suppressed or submerged presence 541.24-5: “I made praharfeast upon acorpolous and fastbroke down in Neederthorpe:” from feast to fast, then breaking of fast (and breakfast); “acorpolous” perhaps suggests ritual cannibalism and definitely includes “corpulent:” HCE is fat. 541.26: “slobodens:” O Hehir: mud, filled-in-land. Sloblands: land below sea level, retrieved by dikes and drainage. He replaced them with (“fairviews…bathandbaddened” (.26-7)) – nice homes with nice views and running water for the bathrooms. 541.27: “bathandbaddend:” battened 541.27: “mendicity:” 1. As if to anticipate the title of James Plunkett’s Dublin novel Strumpet City – a city run on mendacity. Could describe any number of 20th century cities, American and otherwise, run by political machines along the lines of “controlled graft.” 2. Portmanteau word for Florence, a city run mendaciously by the Medici: see notes for .7, .14-5. 541.27: “bathandbaddend…unoculated:” spa and inoculation: two kinds of cures 541.27: “corocured off:” cured; carried off – as in “carried off” by a plague, in the event that the patient, rather than inoculated, was (“unoculated”) un-inoculated. (Multiple good news – bad news equal-opposites, like his (‘tuberclosies” (.36) tubercular tubers.) 541.28: “filled:” built 541.28: “I filled ad liptum:” he supplied (Lipton’s) tea, ad libitum. 541.30: “For sleeking beauties I spinned their nightinveils:” Sleeping Beauty goes to sleep from the prick of a (“spinned”) spindle. (Compare 615.28.) A night-time nightingale would be the right songbird for her, in a landscape darkened by the veils of night. 541.30: “slumbred:” slum-bred. Contrasts with sleek (of “sleeking beauties),” which would connote luxury. 541.32: “mewses whinninaird:” because mews were used to keep (whinnying) horses 541.32-3: ‘tendulcis tunies like water parted fluted up from the westinders:” West-enders: patrons of London’s theatre district. Tenducci’s sensational rendering of “Water Parted from the Sea” (see McHugh) occurred in the Royal Opera Hall, in the West End. Also, since the 19th century the West End has been London’s fashionable district, here contrasted with the lowlife simian “ourangoontangues” of “the east” (.34). “Fluted” because Tenducci, a castrato, was a tenor. 541.33: “westinders:” west wind, making a flute-like (“fluted up”) noise 541.35-6: “but in the meckling of my burgh Belvaros was the site forbed:” Mecklenburg Street, once the name of the street at the center of Dublin’s red light district. “Forbed:” for bed. Places like Mrs. Cohen’s rented rooms, with bed, by the hour. Also, of course, forbid: Mrs. Cohen’s and all similar establishments were shut down and razed shortly after the date of Ulysses. (City-builder as reformer of municipal morals.) By association, “Belvaros” probably includes Buenos Aries, earlier cited as “Buellas Arias,” with its “dallytaunties” (435.1), in Joyce’s time known as a center of the white slave trade. 541.36: “tuberclerosies:” tubers: goes with spuds and murphies – potatoes – of 542.1. 542.1: “reized:” more equal-oppositing: both raised and razed. Raising tubercles (potatoes) and razing tuberculosis: two good things 542.2: “the Irish shou:” a weak rhyme, but given context “shou” seems to mean soil, suitable for potatoes. (McHugh glosses as Irish stew.) 542.2-3: “libertilands making free through their curraghcoombs:” Dublin’s Coomb is part of the ancient area called the Liberties. McHugh and Oxford editors have “libertilads.” Mink records that “Fierce and bloody battles raged in the 18th cent[ury] betwn the Liberty Boys and the Ormonde Boys, who were butchers’ apprentices from across the Liffey.” 542.3: “Curraghcoombs:” the Curragh, west of Dublin, is a horse-racing center (note “hurusalaming” in next line; currycombs are used on horses.) 542.3-4: “trueblues hurusalaming before Wailingtone’s Wall:” A “true blue” was a committed Protestant, usually in opposition to Catholicism and high-church Anglicanism. (Stephen, in “Nestor,” thinking of Protestant Ulster: “the black north and true blue bible.”) Hymn-singing (sometimes featuring the “Jerusalem” refrain heard in “Circe”) was stereotypical behavior; so were visits to Jerusalem, with its Wailing Wall. (Jerusalem being a holy city for three major religions, “Hurusalaming,” – salaaming – probably reflects the rapid bowing-down practiced by devout Jews at the Wailing Wall, as well as the traditional Muslim gesture of respect.) The true-blues would have revered (“Wailingtone’s”) Wellington, the Irish-born Protestant who put down Catholics in Spain and France. Here, they are contrasted with the liberty lads – the rowdy vs. the pious. 542.4: “Wailingtone’s Wall:” Phoenix Park’s Wellington Monument is a fairly short distance from its Magazine Wall. 542.7: “fundness for the outozone:” fondness for the (health-giving) ozone. (So, for a fee, he transports people to places with a high concentration in the atmosphere.) Compare Portrait, chapter one: “…we got a good breath of ozone round the Head today.” Also, as city-builder he expanded the auto-zone for “cars” (.8), paving roads so that motorists could travel to his “Kommeandine hotels” (.8-9). (It’s not clear whether he knew or cared that this money-making traffic-swelling enterprise might be bad for the “outozone” ((.7) ozone) of the region’s (“Bellaros” (541.36)) previously nice air.) 542.8: “curried them:” compare “curraghcoombs” (.3). Also, to curry friends, customers, etc. Ironic that he’s currying, and carrying, race-attending horse-fanciers in the latest motorized vehicles. 542.8: “Putzemdown cars:” Pullman cars. Also, paired with “Kommeandine” (McHugh: Come and dine), Put ‘em down (or Put me down), as from a sedan chair. More equal-opposite overtones - to put an animal down, for instance a horse, is to kill it: come and die. 542.9-10: “I made sprouts fontaneously from Philuppe Sobriety in the coupe that’s cheyned for noon inebriates:” I built a municipal (“font-“) fountain – its waters spouting spontaneously from the earth. Even “noon inebriates” – people drunk by midday – can fill up its (chained) cups with water that will help them become sober. 542.10-1: “when they weaned weary of that bibbing I made infusion more infused:” tired of drinking (“bibbing,” not imbibing) plain water? Very well: I also arranged for infusions of tea for the multitude – as testified at 541.28, in fact, it was “ad liptum,” Lipton Tea ad libitum. (Compare “the tees” at .14.) “Teetotalers” were proverbially tea-drinkers. 542.11: “made infusion more infused:” expression: to make confusion more confused. Also, as McHugh notes, tea is an infusion. 542.12-3: “sowerpacers of the vinegarth:” both sowers and treaders (as in barefoot peasants (pacing) stomping on grapes) of the vineyard – words, in various combinations, frequently found in the Bible. In this case, the grapes are (“sower’”) sour – another way of discouraging alcohol consumption. This combines two parables in Matthew, the Parable of the Sower and the parable of the Workers in the Vineyard. The message of the first is that the word of God, learned in childhood, can continue to grow and flourish like a seed of grain. The message of the second, to some degree contradictorily, is that late converts to the faith are as welcome into heaven as life-long adherents. In the Vineyard parable, the workers employed all day “grumble” when the late-hired get paid the same amount, but are told they shouldn’t. 542.13: “in my coppeecuffs:” in my cups – as McHugh notes, drunk. Equal-opposites: if tea is the proverbial alternative to alcohol, coffee (in cups) is the proverbial remedy for alcohol in excess. 542.14: “caabman’s sheltar:” the cabman’s shelter of “Eumaeus” is a temperance establishment; one of its patrons is a “tar” named Murphy. 542.14: “tot the ites like you corss the tees:” tot up the eats and curse the tea: in “Eumaeus” the inedible bun, as totaled up by Bloom, is twopence, as is the undrinkable coffee. Also, the letter i is dotted and the letter t is crossed. Usually in FW, this pairing signals a correspondence between Tristan and Iseult, but apparently not here. 542.15-6: “the first of Janus’s straight…the last of Christmas steps:” all year, or almost, or a bit more – from January 1 to the last days of the Christmas season 542.16: “Janus’s straight:” James Gate, address of Guinness’s Brewery. Also, Damascus’ “Street called Straight” 542.17: “on the rates:” a poverty case, being paid for by the ratepayers 542.17-8: “I for indigent and intendente: in Forum Foster I demosthrenated my folksfiendship:” noted in “Ithaca,” “Vere Foster’s handwriting copybook” taught standardized penmanship to children – here, how to write the letter “I,” as in… “Forum” brings in Demosthenes, who famously taught himself, and later taught others (his “puppuls” (.18)) the art of public speaking, in spite of speech impediments for which, as demonstrated here, his own name would have posed a challenge. In the latter capacity, his fiery words lit up (some of) his listeners: .21-3. 542.19: “burk:” birch, used to whip (“pupuls” (.18)) pupils 542.19: “my burk was no worse than their brite:” speaking of Demosthenes, both Edmund Burke and John Bright were famous orators. 542.19-26: “Sapphrageta…eyes!:” as with Shaun/Jaun in III.1-2, his inflammably enthusiastic audience is entirely female: compare next note and note for .22. Lines .26-9 will recount how he took advantage of his success. 542.19: “Sapphrageta:” a Sapphic suffragette. Compare “Circe:” “A feminist: (masculinely)…” 542.21: “schwalby words:” as McHugh notes, Schwalbe is German for swallow, Schwall is German for flood. Possibly a compressed equal-opposite: Tennyson’s eloquent “swallow- flight of song;” a flood of sustained eloquence. 542.22: “set their soakye pokeys and botchbons afume:” according to Green’s Dictionary of Slang, “pokey” and “bonne-bouche” are both slang for vagina. At 296.29-30, during a scrutiny of the mother’s vagina, a “poke stiff” is an aroused clitoris: Issy’s footnote commentary is “The impudence of that in girl’s things!” 542.23-4: “Fletcher-Flemmings, elisaboth, how interquackeringly they rogated me:” More women. McHugh: Elizabeth Fletcher. Glasheen: Elizabeth Flemming. Both (“-both”) were Elizabeths; both were (“-quacker-“) 17th century Quakers; both were religious proselytizers. Since a rogation can be either a supplication or a formal request to authorities, perhaps they were appealing to him to make municipal reforms, to which he (.24) “unhesitant made replique.” 542.25: “who in hillsaide:” who in hell said? Also, a “hillsider” was a Fenian. 542.27: “Bringem young!:” maybe obvious: an allusion to Brigham Young’s collection of (young) wives. See next three entries. 542.27-8: “in my bethel of Solyman’s I accouched their rotundaties:” like Young, Solomon had many wives. (So did Suleiman I; all three were also religious leaders.) In French argot, se coucher is to have sex. “Rotundaties” may indicate the curves of the female form, especially as represented in pictures of harems, in which the women are typically reclining on (“accouched”) divans. As (McHugh) Dublin’s Rotunda Maternity Hospital, accouchement, French for giving birth – the logical outcome of the other kind of couching. (So is (“the lock”) the Lock Hospital, specializing in venereal disease.) 542.28-9: “turnkeyed:” Tarquin was Lucrecia’s (.29) rapist; Suleimen was a Turk; Turks were proverbial for rapacity, sexual and otherwise. Also, as turnkey (see McHugh) he has either (“lock” (.29)) locked up the harem girls (see next entry) or, as anticipated at 532.31-2, freed them by turning the key. Given his current role as public benefactor, probably the latter 542.29: “insultantly:” incorporates “sultan” – see .27-8 and note. Also, perhaps: insultingly, exultingly 542.29: “raped lutetias:” all that seems to be known about Saint Lutetia is that she was a “virgin martyr.” Raping her would be inordinately insulting. 542.30: “jacobeaters:” eaters of Jacob’s Biscuits. Giving them more (“biscums”) biscuits, like giving (“pottage bakes”) more pottage to (“esausted”) Esau, sounds like sending coals to Newcastle. 542.31: “freakandesias:” free and easy 542.32-3: “I titfortotalled up their farinadays:” metering a customer’s electricity, with “faradays” the basic unit 542.34: “I jaunted on my jingelbrett:” gingerbread coach: ornate antique coach; used in ceremonies by Lord Mayor of London, Lord Mayor of Dublin. (The next line – he’s a beggar who frequents omnibuses – is the opposite extreme: riches to rags.) Horses’ bridles etc. do the jingling. “Jaunted:” compare Boylan’s jingling jaunting car in “Sirens.” Again (see 541.18-542.12 and note) “There’s music everywhere.” 542.35: “I beggered about the amnibushes:” I beat about the bush. 542.35: “beggered:” begged. Oxford editors have “beggared.” 542.36-544.3: “I sent…lower man:” he may have shut down the red light district (see 541.35-6 and entry) but in its place he found another way of raising funds: having (“heyweywomen”) women of the street relieve “ballwearied” men of sperm and funds - from what the Wife of Bath calls her husband’s “nether purse” and his upper one, too. 543.1: “ballwearied:” McHugh gives the source, but the meaning seems unclear. In any case, in context: something close to our “blue balls,” a term coming into currency in the FW years and probably still in play when the (male) speaker remembers his eminent self and his “monumentalness as a thingabolls” (.8-9). (Mink tentatively suggests a reference to Balwearie, a ruined Scottish fort.) 543.1-2: “ballwearied…base:” given proximity of cricket and sundry American elements, maybe baseball. Compare entry for .3-4. 543.2-3: “devaleurised the base fellows for curtailment of their lower man:” De Valera’s regime was notoriously puritanical. 543.3: “curtailment of their lower man:” equal opposites: to extinguish the baser (sexual) impulses through sexual release. According to OED definition 2.b., a “curtal” is “Anything docked or cut short;” it can include the work of cutpurses. 543.3-4: “with a slog to square leg I sent my boundary to Botany Bay:” sports-talk hyperbole. Compare Bloom in “Lotus Eaters,” on how “Captain Buller broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg.” In cricket, the “boundary” is the perimeter of the playing field. As Same Slote et al. report in the 2022 Annotations to James Joyce’s Ulysses, “Hitting a ball from the Trinity [College] cricket pitch into Kildare Street is a matter of local legend.” Buller was a real cricketer, but apparently never did it. Hitting a cricket ball that distance would be something like hitting a home run out of Yankee Stadium, which Mickey Mantle almost once did. Hitting a cricket ball so far that the “boundary” needed to be set on the other side of the world – Australia’s Botany Bay – would be Herculean. 534.4: “sent my boundary to Botany Bay:” with a possible play on “bounder” (compare .19 and note) – he sent the overflow unacceptables to Botany Bay, prison colony for “the Empire” (.5-6). 543.4-5: “ran up a score:” in some sports to run up a score is to pile on points in a game – usually considered bad form. In cricket, “ran up a score of _ points” is a common formula. (“Score and four,” twenty-four, would not, I believe, be especially impressive.) Also, a barkeeper tabulating a patron’s debts 543.5: “score and four:” given “Yanks” context (Huckleberry Finn, for instance) possibly an allusion to Lincoln’s “Four score and seven years ago” 543.5: “huckling:” haggling, but in context seems something like a back-formation from “huckster.” 543.6: “omominous letters:” with stutter, ominously anonymous letters, such as death threats 543.7: “pieces of pottery:” a brickbat could be a piece of pottery. Again, equal-opposites: they’re writing him poems of homage; they’re throwing stuff at him. 543.8: “causeries:” French for chattings; in context, chatting up 543.9-10: “allcalling on me for the song of a birtch:” they are all asking him to whip them, making a whistling sound with his birch. (Compare Portrait’s “swish” of Father Dolan’s soutane as he smacks Stephen’s hand.) British public-school sado-masochistic pederasty. Compare 542.18-9. 543.9-10: “song of a birtch:” bird song – for his performance in the Feis Ceoil, in which Joyce once took second place to John McCormack. 543.10-1: “the more secretly bi built, the more openly palastered:” “bi built…palastered:” bibulous…plastered: the latter is slang for drunk. (Compare “peloothered” in “Grace.”) The more he drank in secret, the more likely he was to show up drunk in public. Also, pilasters are features of a building’s outward ornamentation. Possible overtone of plastered in original sense of a building’s final covering 543.11: “Attent! Coach hear!:” Attends! Cocher! - as in calling a cab in Paris 543.11-3: “I have becket my vonderbilt hutch in sunsmidnought and at morningrise was encompassed of mushroofs:” he built his grand house to be amid nought – all alone, with no company – but before he knew it, drat, it was surrounded by the homes of the hoi polloi. Going out on a limb, I suggest that this is also about the composition of FW: written in a condition of encroaching blindness (midnight, no sun), on the basis of what Joyce called a “bellissima niente,” with Beckett as secretary. See next entry. 543.11: “becket:” surely a nod to Samuel Beckett 543.11: “vonderbilt hutch:” equal-opposites. A Vanderbilt house, for instance the Breakers in Newport, Rhode Island, would be palatial; a hutch is tiny. Probably the sense is self-deprecatingly ironic. 543.12: “sunsmidnought:” Norway, Alaska, and other northern regions have been called “the land of the midnight sun.” 543.13: “mushroofs:” mushroom: connotation of new money, clambering for class – here, by building as close as possible to a Vanderbilt. (The Vanderbilts, at least by American standards, were old money.) For instance, Byron in “A Vision of Judgment:” “Satan met his ancient friend / With more hauteur, as might an old Castilian / Poor noble meet a mushroom rich civilian.” On the literal level, mushrooms are proverbial for rapid growth, even growing up overnight: “Why, them’s the muchrooms, come up during the night” (.625.20-1). 543.13: “bethinkful:” to bethink something is to ponder it. 543.14: “the lilies on the veldt:” contradictory message: the “lilies of the field” connote nature at its most beneficent; the veldt connotes nature red in tooth and claw. Again, the sentiment anticipates Woody Allen: “And the lion shall lie down with the lamb, and the lamb won’t get much sleep.” 543.14-5: “unto Balkis did I disclothe mine glory:” Balkis, as McHugh notes, is the Queen of Sheba. The man unclothing himself and disclosing his glory to her is Sheba’s lover Solomon, just introduced by way of Jesus’s “Consider the lilies of the field,” which then continues, “That Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Minor correction here: McHugh has the first biblical quotation from Matthew and the second from Luke, but the Matthew passage has both, in succession.) 543.15: See entry for 545.24-5 543.15-6: “This missy, my taughters, and these man, my son:” one of several places where his multiple (two, seven, twenty-eight) daughters and (two, three) sons seem equivalent with Joyce’s one son and one daughter. They’ve grown up. 543.19: “bonders and foeburghers:” bounders and faux-burghers. A bounder is a cad; a bond-holder, at least aspirationally, is the opposite. Burghers are rock-solid establishment types, but being a faux version of one sounds like something a cad might do, and as for (McHugh) faubourg: not Paris but a suburb. (For Joyce, as for others, “suburban” was close to being an equivalent of “bourgeois.”) In “Eumaeus” Stephen calls Ireland “the faubourg Saint Patrice,” the suburban settlement of Saint Patrick. 543.20: “darsy jeamses, the drury joneses:” James and John 543.21: “in hommage all and felony:” homage and fellowship become homme – mankind – and felony, a return to the old Adam. This marks the approximate point at which utopian urbanization falls prey to what has since been called “Brasilia Syndrome” – great-on-paper planning, friendlier to automobiles than pedestrians, resulting in sterile landscaping and a proliferation of unpredicted slums. The rackety “respectable” dwellings catalogued from here to 545.23 are the unintended consequences of what ALP will call “All your graundplotting and the little it brought” (624.12-3). At the end his supposed beneficiaries are “villeins” (545.14), a reminder that a word for evil-doer began as meaning, simply, tenant. 543.25: “closet:” water closet 543.28-9: “Mountgomery:” again, Montgomery Street – Monto – was the main drag of Dublin’s Nighttown. (It would be a weak pun, but in “Scylla and Charybdis” Stephen uses “mount” in the sexual sense.) 543.29-30: “eldest son will not serve but peruses Big-man-up-in-the-Sky scraps:” the scraps are presumably from the Bible, where “will not serve” (in “Jeremiah”) describes the position of rebellious Israelites toward Babylon. Also, of course, Stephen’s credo in Portrait. During WW I, British and American conscientious objectors refused to serve in the military, sometimes citing biblical teachings. 543.31: “pays ragman in bones for faded windowcurtains:” a ragman was also a “rag and bones man,” and an old window curtain would qualify as a rag. Apparently this ragman is being paid in bones – part of his inventory, also his currency – in return for this article of faux-genteel furnishing. 543.33-4: “getting on like Roe’s distillery on fire:” expression: getting on like a house on fire 543.33-4: “Roe’s distillery on fire:” Mink: “There seems to be no record of a major fire at Roe’s.” 543.36: “correspondence courses:” by-mail education offered to those without the money or time to attend school; had dodgy reputation 543.36: “chucked work over row:” he quit his job after a fight with the boss. 543.36-544.1: “both cheeked kissed at levee:” given context (e.g. next entry), it may be pertinent that the royal levée could include a session on the chaise percêe commode. Compare next three entries. 544.1-2: “closet which is profusely written over:” again, water closet, here with bathroom graffiti 544.5-6: “removal every other quarter day:” that is, the chamber pots (.7) are emptied twice a year. Yuck. 544.5-6: “private chapel occupies return landing:” again, in context, more toilet talk. Compare (“chapellledeosy”) chapel of ease of 396.31-2. In “Calypso,” the Blooms apparently have an indoor toilet on “the landing,” which would certainly constitute progress here, even if shared with “eleven other subscribers” (.2). 544.6: “case one of peculiar hopelessness:” “case one” may work two ways. 1. In medical journals of the time, it can designate the first example in a report on a group illness or condition under study. 2. In sense of: this case is one of peculiar hopelessness. 544.7-8: “eccentric naval officer not quite steady:” as in not steady on his pins, meaning drunk. Here, a euphemistic expression for a drunken sailor. “Eccentric” in original sense of not centered, off balance. 544.10: “door, known as the trap:” trapdoor 544.10: “widow rheumatic and chars:” as verb, to char is to work as a charwoman, that is, a chambermaid. Nora was one when she met Joyce. 544.11-12: “tools too costly pledged or uninsured,:” most writers would probably have put a comma after “costly,” setting off “pledged or uninsured.” Redeeming them from the pawnshop would cost too much, and so would insuring them in the first place. 544.12: “reformed philanthropist:” that is, reformed from philanthropy 544.14: “his last dinners:” condemned prisoners are traditionally allowed to have a last meal of their choice. “Cyclops” features an extravagant example. 544.14: “floor dangerous:” probably because the surface is uneven 544.15-6: “many uncut pious books:” up until the early 20th century, some books were still being published whose pages needed to be cut apart with a paper knife. The occupant is displaying religious books, as a show of respectability, which he has no intention of reading. 544.17: “bottled gooseberry:” either gooseberry juice or gooseberry soda 544.18-9: “infant being taught to hammer flat piano:” whatever a “flat piano” may be, it’s unlikely that a real piano, a major sign of bourgeois respectability, is actually on the premises. One of this sequence’s intermittent pretenses to gentility; so is the next entry. 544.20: “titled connection:” a relative who qualifies as a member of the peerage 544.21: “wife cleans stools:” given context, closestools – chairs fitted for chamberpots 544.21-2: “ottawark and regular loafer:” ottoman and regular sofa. A “regular sofa” is a sofa with certain set dimensions. Again, these, as opposed to an in-house out-of-work perpetual loafer, would be tokens of bourgeois respectability. 544.23: “claret cellar cobwebbed:” like the piano, highly improbable in such an establishment. (So is “has a staff of eight servants” (.28-9).) More faux gentility. (The cobwebs, however, are probably real.) As McHugh shows, this comes from a different source than that of most items in the catalogue. 544.24: “drill trousers:” would have suggested a naval uniform 544.24-5: “since the pontificate of Leo:” Leo XIII, the most recent pope of that name, died in 1903. 544.25: “underages:” for once, may not mean “under-aged.” Roughly, it can be a maritime term having to do with a ship’s cargo. 544.25-6: “sits up with fevercases:” that is, over sickbeds. One stage away from a wake’s “watcher” 544.26: “threepence…two:” and at .31 comes “eleven.” 1132 544.26-7: “owns two terraces (back to back breezes):” probably means: two broken windows, with wind blowing between them. The “terraces” could be stoops or something similar. 544.29-30: “using the laneway:” probably to urinate 544.33-4: “the despair of his many benefactresses:” see note to .23. Another anomaly, given most of the testimony. This one also applies to Joyce, whose career owed much to female benefactors. 544.34: “calories exclusively from Rowntrees and dumplings:” probably includes “rump and dozen,” either in colloquial sense, defined by Eric Partridge, of a rump of beef and a dozen of claret, or, as in “Cyclops” a shipboard flogging. In the first sense, calories from food; in the second, what Bloom in “Circe” calls “a warm tingling glow.” The phrasing makes it sound like a pretentious advertisement of the “By Appointment to” kind, here for a store with a name resembling “Rowntry’s of Dublin.” 544.35-6: “one bar of sunlight does them all january and half february:” so they have a northern exposure. Besides (McHugh) a bar of Sunlight Soap, a sun’s solitary ray is sometimes called a “bar.” 544.36: “the V. de V’s:” the “de,” like “Van,” can signify aristocratic heritage or, more likely, pretension to same. Evidently a family (they “rarely pay tradesmen” (545.1)), the de Valera family is a possibility here. Éamon de Valera’s oldest son was named Vivion. 545.1: “semidetached:” a house joined to another, similar house on only one side. For a time, the Mullingar House qualified. 545.1: “but rarely pay tradesmen:” the “but” here is curious. Probably the sense is that living in a “fivestoried semidetached” should mean that they could afford to pay their bills, but they don’t. Not paying tradesmen could be sign of toffish hauteur: Pope describes a fashionable lady who “paid a tradesman once to make him stare.” 545.1-2: “went security for friend who absconded:” that is, guaranteed his own funds as collateral if his friend defaulted on a loan. Said friend having “absconded,” he is stuck with the debt. In Ulysses, Bloom is known and resented for (wisely) never being a party to such a transaction. 545.3: “closet:” yet again, water closet. The number of its sharers keeps expanding – another sign of increasing impoverishment 545.5: “head of domestic economy:” probably polite term for housewife 545.6: “queery how they live:” besides (McHugh) a query as to how they live, the answer: they live queerly, as in the expression “in Queer Street” – something is definitely wrong somewhere. 545.9-10: “decoration from Uganda chief in locked ivory casket:” compare 396.10, where a human skull is “ivory.” In “Cyclops,” a similar token from an African chief is “the skull of his immediate predecessor.” 545.10-11: “the terror of Goodmen’s Field:” Jack the Ripper. As McHugh notes, Goodman’s Fields is in Whitechapel. The Ripper murders occurred in Whitechapel; one of them was literally around the corner from Goodman’s Fields. 545.13: “herrors:” besides (McHugh) horrors, German herr, gentleman, pluralized in English. Opposite of (see next) “villeins” – either out of politeness or wishful thinking. 545.13-4: “my villeins:” Oxford editors have “vill villeins” – perhaps an HCE stutter. In ME sense, a “villain” is a serf, in this case, his: he is the lord of the manor. In modern sense, of course, it may be something to worry about, especially since we have just heard about Jack the Ripper (.10-11). 545.20-1: “Tolbris:” probably overtone of the Tollbooth, in 18th century Edinburgh and Dublin a jail, run by the British authorities, a site for the incarceration, torture, and execution of rebels against the crown 545.24-5: “I have livramentoed, milles on milles of mancipelles:” see McHugh: I have freed thousands and thousands of slaves. (Apparently, all or most of them were female.) 545.24: “livramentoed:” Italian liberamente, freely 545.24-5: “Lo, I have looked upon my pumpadears in their easancies and my drummers have tattled tall tales of me in the land::” (The first colon is in the FW text.) A genetics issue here. McHugh says that this sentence belongs at 543.15, following “I considered the lilies on the veldt and unto Balkis did I disclothe mine glory,” where, with “pumpadears” as a harem-full of Madame de Pompadours, it would continue the vein of sexual triumphalism. The Oxford editors apparently retain the “Lo…” sentence in its present position, but replace the concluding colon with a period. They then insert this: “Fullgent. I funked forth (drat it!), voldsom (veh!) they veered. Mine outskirts benlewd; men breaches portpoiused.” They then capitalize the “i” in “in morgenattics,” and the text continues as is. In A Wake Newslitter, XIII, 5, (October 1976), Ian MacArthur recommends the same “Fullgent…portpoiused” insertion, but with “Fulgent” instead of “Fullgent” and “portpouised” instead of “portpoiused.” As remarked elsewhere, your annotator is not a genetics scholar and cannot adjudicate these different proposals. 545.27: “morgenattics…seralcellars:” German Morgen, morning, Italian sera, evening. The attic is lit up with the sun, the cellar is dark. 545.27: “in seralcellars louched I bleakmealers:” malt cellars: malt is (malted) meal. Possible overtone of cereal, meaning meal, in “seral-.” The expression “The malt is above the meal” describes someone who is drunk. Also, his blackmailers – a recurring concern for FW’s male principal – are, unsurprisingly, a louche lot. 545.28-9: “I was parciful of my subject but in street wauks that are darkest I debelledem superb:” compare “street angel and house devil” in “Circe.” Sir Percival is an epitome of sanctity; “debelledem” echoes “devil;’ “parciful” includes “peaceful.” 545.29: “debelledem:” possible overtone of belle dame, equally-oppositely counterpointed with (“street wauks”) street-walkers. 545.29: “deemed:” judged, damned 454.29-30: “drugtails…pettycourts:” as McHugh notes, “drugtails” includes “draggletails.” Compare “drunken draggletail Dublin drab” (436.26). A sluttish, in sense of slovenly, woman, as evidenced by her skirts – or, here, petticoats – dragged through the mud. Like “slut,” the word came to signify whore or whorish. Compare third entry for .30. 545.30: “petty courts:” variously capitalized, a petty court is usually the first level of the judicial system, dealing with minor legal issues. As lawgiver and judge, he “deemed” and “domstered.” 545.30: “pettycourts…husinclose:” petticoats…hosenlatz, German for trouser fly – female and male attire 545.30: “dustyfeets:” when he came to power, the women had muddy petticoats and the men had dusty feet. He changed that. 545.32: “magmonimoss as staidy lavgiver:” “staidy:” staid, steady. (As in most, perhaps all of the paired items of .25-36, this is the opposite of its partner, a (“I revolucanized by my eructions”) erupting revolutionary; ”hence the “moss-“ in “magmonimoss” – “mossy” is a derogatory words for conservative sorts. (On the other hand, note volcanic lava in “lavgiver.”) 545.33: “revolucanized:” Vulcan 545.33: “eructions: the hye and bye:” given context (see next entry), overtone of “high and dry,” “highway and byway.” Oxford editors have “eructions: on hye and bye.” 545.33: “bye wayseeds:” from Jesus’ “Parable of the Sower:” some of the seeds “fell by the wayside.” 545.34: “in my graben fields sew sowage:” see previous note. “Sew sewage:” HCE’s stammer – which, as he becomes increasingly emboldened, is occurring with decreasing frequency. 545.34-5: “in Sheridan’s circle my wits repose:” Richard Brinsley Sheridan was famous for his wit; his “circle” – theatrical (as in “dress circle”) and Parliamentary – would certainly have included “wits.” Contrast here is with “dummed.” (Compare 225.18.) 545.35-6: “of the pestered Lenfant:” of the Blessed Infant 545.36: “(Hearts of Oak:” “Heart of Oak” is a jingoistic British song; “hearts of oak” is a patriotic phrase celebrating British ships (built from cores of oak trees, therefore sturdy) and sailors (also stout-hearted). 545.36: “may ye root to piece!:” besides “rest in peace,” overtone of “rot to/in pieces” – equal-opposite ill-wishing toward the British and their navy. 546.1: “Rechabites obstain:” biblical family, descended from Rechab, which abstained from wine. (Compare/contrast with “Circe:” “Bumboosers, save your stamps!”) 546.1-2: “Clayed sheets, pineshrouded, wake not, walk not! Sigh lento, Morgh!:” addressed to the dead: do not come back to life. The buried are in winding sheets/shrouds, boxed in pine and covered in clay (compare “Clay” in Dubliners); those in the morgue should remain silent (music: “Silencio!” and, at the very least, slow (Lente). 546.2: “Quo warranto:” by what warrant? A writ requiring the recipient to defend his claim to an office and its prerogatives 546.2: “soliven:” solemn 546.3: “lord V. king:” as in a legal case: the Crown versus Lord X 546.3: “king regards for me:” suggest this can also be read as a compressed “king’s kind regards for me” 546.4: “(flister it!):” whisper it! 546.4: “second fiddler to nomen:” 1. He plays second fiddle to no one: he is always the first violinist. 2. “Earwicker” is the male principal’s “agnomen” (30.3), bestowed by the king. If, like me, you believe that Earwicker is his second, (“necknamesh”) nickname (and that his real name is Porter), this tends to confirm. 3. Noman, Odysseus’ second name in the Cyclops’ cave. (See 374.22-3.) 4. Long shot: earwigs as beetles. There is such a thing as the “fiddler beetle.” The grasshopper, a near relation, is frequently represented as a fiddler in several versions of the story “The Grasshopper and the Ant.” (See 414.23.) 546.5: “genteelician:” genteel, gentleman, patrician. According to Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis,” for reasons of upward mobility, Shakespeare, named as “William Shakespeare, gentleman” in legal documents of the time, “toadied” to acquire a coat of arms for his family. See notes to .6-7, .8-9, .9. (Dublin coat of arms is also incorporated.) Also, Latin gentelicus, pertaining to a particular clan. Also, gentile: like the citizen in “Cyclops,” the Shaun side of FW’s male principal is often anxious to repudiate his Shemian, Jewish, Old Testament side. 546.5: “two young frish:” park scene: the girls 546.6-7: “vested sable, withdrewers argent:” Stephen describing Shakespeare’s coat of arms: “on a bend sable a spear or steeled argent.” “Withdrewers:” with drawers – women’s underpants – paralleling “vested”’s vest; that they’ve been withdrawn, as in drawn down, probably goes with implications elsewhere that the girls were seen urinating. Heraldic “argent” is often depicted as white. 546.7: “pondant:” Latin for heavy 546.8: “blazoned sinister:” bend sinister – heraldic sign of illegitimacy 546.8-9: “terce of lanciers:” park scene: three soldiers (lancers) 546.9: “shaking unsheathed shafts:” shaking spear (or spears - in the full version there are two, one of them being shaken by a falcon) on Shakespeare coat of arms 546.9-10: “their arms crossed in saltire:” that is, with right hand on left shoulder, left hand on right shoulder. (Not on Shakespeare’s coat of arms; in some versions Dublin’s includes a sceptre crossed with a sword.) 546.10: “embusked, sinople:” see McHugh. Neither Shakespeare’s nor Dublin’s coat of arms includes the color green, but of course it would, traditionally, be right for anything Irish. Probably a version of the “ombushes” ((7.35); see 522.12 and note) of the park scene 546.10-24: “Hery Crass Evohodie….place!:” compare 455.13-4. Also, as will be noted as they occur, these lines contain many allusions to Jesus, perhaps beginning here with an overtone of “heavy cross.” (Compare 409.17-8.) The speaker is presenting himself as a sacred martyr. (It’s subjective, but the rhythm of these lines reminds me of the Apostle’s Creed.) 546.11: “Evohodie:” everyday. Also, “Evoe!” – cry of Bacchantes; see note to .12. 546.11-2: “elder disposition:” older dispensation – i.e., the Old Testament 546.12: “draggedasunder:” Orpheus (another sacred martyr) was torn to pieces by Bacchantes crying “Evoe!” Also, perhaps the “quartering” part of “drawn and quartered.” Also, paired with “huddled til summone be the massproduct of teamwork” (.15), Humpty Dumpty, broken into fragments, with all the king’s horses etc. trying – this time succeeding – to put him together. 546.12-3: “be the forced generation of group marriage:” see next two notes. The Essenes did not practice group marriage, but their laws did permit a man to abandon his wife and choose another if the first failed to become pregnant during the first three years. 546.13: “holocryptogam:” with “-gam” replacing “-gram,” a holy and mysterious mating 546.13: “essenes:” long before the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, there was scholarly discussion of Jesus’ relation to the Essenes; some speculated that he belonged to the sect. 546.15: “be the:” by the 546.15: “massproduct:” product of the Mass. Compare “Ithaca:” “Epp’s massproduct, the creature cocoa.” Also, mass-produced 546.15-6: “three surtouts wripped up in itchother’s:” surtouts: sur tout. A description of the Trinity. See next entry. 546.15-7: “three…two…one:” the Trinity 546.17: “trine or dubildin two, for abram nude be I:” three, two, and (with “I” as “1”) one: see previous entry. Again, the Trinity 546.17: “abram nude be I:” Jesus: “Before Abraham was I am” (John 8:58) 546.17-8: “abram nude be I or roberoyed with the faineans:” “abram men” were beggars pretending to be lunatics; the name came from the Abraham ward at Bedlam. Like Edgar’s abram man in King Lear, Poor Tom, they sometimes ran around nude. Two suggestions: 1. As with 534.2, the contrast is between real nakedness and Emperor’s-New-Clothes imagined sartorial splendor – being royally robed in red. 2. Given this context, the “two twin pritticoaxes” of .16 is an overtone of dementia praecox, 19th century term for schizophrenia, thought of as the condition of a “split personality.” 3. “nude” paired with “robe…d:” naked and robed: opposites. 4. Like the Fenians, Scott’s Rob Roy is an outlaw fighting the landed interests of the crown. 546.21: “my otherchurch’s inher light:” “Inner light” is a tag for Quakers; appears as such in “Scylla and Charybdis.” 546.22: “besitteth:” Apostle’s Creed: Jesus “sitteth on the right hand of God.” 546.23: "Till daybowbreak:" daybreak (reassuring), and "When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall" (not). 546.23: “Thus be hek:” so be it, with an overtone of HCE 546.24: “Verily Verily:” one of Jesus’s trademark expressions 546.27: “- Have you put in all your sparepennies? I’m listening:” as McHugh says, telephone operators. For pay phones, operators would listen for the sound of coins being deposited. Different coins made different sounds when striking a bell inside the box. Also, the voice of someone working a coin-operated radio, a device popular in public establishments from the late 1920’s through the thirties. (Compare next entry.) This is the last of long line of questions put to Yawn since the sequence started in III.1, with the Latin language lesson of p. 407. It concludes with four questions based on the Catholic catechism. Confirmation for those who have passed the exam typically occurs at the age of thirteen or fourteen. 546.29: “- Mr Televox, Mrs Taubiestimm and invisible friends!:” voice of radio announcer, just switched on. “Televox:” just as “television” means visible images sent long-distance, so “Televox” is the equivalent for voice – a radio. (Compare II.3, where the pub’s radio sometimes changes into or doubles with a (at the time, futuristic) television set.) This greeting may have been inspired by Walter Winchell’s ubiquitous sign-on of the 1930’s, “Good evening, Mr and Mrs America, from border to border and coast to coast and all the ships at sea!” (Winchell began broadcasting in 1930, and this segment of the sequence was added at some time after the first transition version of 1929. Joyce enjoyed listening to American radio.) “Televox” was also the brand of a telephone-answering “mechanical man” introduced in 1927 by Westinghouse. It could respond to certain vocal signals to register and regulate some operations (oven, furnace) in a presumably all-electric home. Although it did not respond with words, popular-science publications liked to represent it as a robot or replacement human “brain,” and entertained some of the same concerns today raised by artificial intelligence. Joyce loved this stuff. 546.30-547.3: “Annoyin…sinned:” compare 202.26-204.20. This is an opposite version of ALP as young woman. Gist: had she in fact done any of these things – had she fooled around with these wild, primitive males in her pre-me youth - there might be a point to what her detractors have to say, but she didn’t and there isn’t. She didn’t go backwards to her uphill origins; instead, she flowed, naturally, downward into my (sea) arms, like the “faithful Fulvia” (.30) who stayed true to her husband Anthony even while he was off with Cleopatra. She is my (“goods waif”) good wife. 546.34: “Chief Night Cloud by the Deeps:” following Ireland’s north, south, and east in their usual order, this, as Mink notes, is Connacht, in the west and on the ocean, where the sun sets in the deeps of the Atlantic. Like the other three preceding, a Hollywood version of an American Indian of the (wild) west, combined with the Irish version, what Lenehan in Ulysses calls “the wild wet west.” 546.35: “amber whitch:” compare the “golden lifey” of I.8 (203.6), the Liffey in transit to Dublin, taking coloration from rural “barleyfields” - from, so to speak, amber waves of grain. Sunlight playing on the water may also contribute: compare note to 76.30. As adjective, fulvia is Latin for blonde. In general, the Liffey deepens and darkens the closer it gets to the sea. 546.36: “prolling:” see McHugh. OED definition of “proll:” “to wander about in search of plunder, prey, etc.” Here, “bywaymen” unsuccessfully trying to tempt the Liffey to leave her natural river “bed” 547.4: “mmummy:” HCE stammer – a sign of his emergence from Jaun. It immediately introduces the subject of his wife, about whom he feels conflicted – affectionate and jealous. (“Fulvia Fluvia,” on the next line, is probably another nervous stammer. Soon after that, however, such occurrences become conspicuously absent; apparently he will, as Stephen says about Mulligan in “Telemachus,” have “spoken himself into boldness:” see first note to .25. Contemporary psychology sometimes diagnosed stuttering as a symptom of “personality conflict” – something the speaker still has right now but will soon leave behind.) The jealousy explains why, he says, he outfitted her with a yashmak (.15) and imposed all kinds of other purdah-like restrictions. 547.4: “goods waif:” goodwife: female head of household or establishment. See next – a little woman (or, simply, person) would also be a waif. (By most accounts, the real Fulvia was anything but: Plutarch and others have her emphatically bossing her men around.) 547.5: “Fluvia, iddle woman to the plusneeborn:” given Latin fluvia, river (McHugh), the “plus-“ in “plusneeborn” may derive from Latin pluisset, pluperfect for “to rain.” In other words, “rainborne” (285.15), with an overtone of “newborn.” Compare also 204.18, 627.8-12. 547.5: “iddle woman:” compare 4.28-9: “He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur.” “The little woman” is/was a traditional husbandly term of affection for the wife. 547.7: “fawned on, that which was loost:” see McHugh. “That which was lost” is Stephen’s “Scylla and Charybdis” translation of the name of Perdita in Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, and Perdita comes from, in McHugh’s words, a character named “Fawnia in [Robert] Greene’s Pandosto.” Also, Fulvia (.5) is Latin for a female fawn. Also, of course: to fawn on somebody, to be fond of somebody. The spelling of “loost” for “lost” almost certainly brings in Lucia, Joyce’s daughter, as Perdita was daughter of King Leontes. 547.12: “Tollollall!:” Toodle-oo! 547.15: “ymashkt, beyashmakt, earswathed, snoutsnooded:” possible disagreement with McHugh here. These seem to me to be four ways of saying that she’s wearing a yashmak, which would cover mouth, nose and possibly ears, but not eyes. A snood covers the hair; in a poem Joyce calls it “the sign of maidenhood” – again, testimony to the young ALP’s virginity. 547.15: “ymashkt, beyashmakt:” as in “yclept,” “bemired:” Spencer-like archaisms 547.16: “raft:” reft, taken by violence, as in Pound’s (post-FW) “shall not be reft from thee.” Also, raft as verb – he rafted her down the (“flumingworthily”) flumen, Latin for river. Compare (and contrast) 202.5-6: “She had a flewmen of her owen.” 547.16-7: “leftlead her overland the pace:” to lead someone the pace is to outrun them in a race. Line 27 says that this is her “maidan race.” 547.17-26: “from lacksleap up to liffsloup, tiding down…os:” “tiding down:” a boat or ship that follows the outgoing tide is or was said to be tiding down. Accordingly, the place names or designations that follow here are sequentially downstream, from Leixlip to the last downstream bridge, Liffey’s (“liffsloup”) Loop Line Bridge. Leixlip (“lacksleap” (.17)) is upstream from “Hurdlesford” (.18 – a.k.a. “Ford of Hurdles,” generally agreed to have been where the Father Mathew Bridge is now situated.) (“Kevin’s creek” (.17), Kevin Street (according to Mink, going by its original name of “Kevin’s Port” in the first draft; four words earlier, “portreeve” appears), is in the same area, relative to Leixlip, but some distance from the Liffey.) Gardiner’s Mall (“Gardener’s Mall” (.19)) is downstream from Hurdlesford. “Ringsend Flott and Ferry” (.20): Ringsend is downstream from Gardener’s Mall, and in Joyce’s time was the site of a ferry, the one taken in “An Encounter.” Next we have arrived at “wavebrink” (.21), the wave’s – sea’s - brink, and the “dart to throw” (.21, see McHugh) marks a dart’s throw into the ocean, in order to establish a further eastward extension of the settlement’s border. Having reached the open sea, the sailor then raises sail (“upreized my magicianer’s puntpole” (.23)) and heads out into (“tridont”) the oceanic realm of the sea-god, with his trident. (Not coincidentally, a variant on the E siglum, here as three teeth.) Three other terms along the way (“riverside bank,” “embankment,” and “strond”), though customarily associated with New York (Riverside Drive), London (The Embankment) and, again, London (The Strand), can of course apply to the Liffey as well. (Query: how then to explain the beginning, “lacksleap up?” I suggest that it be read as paired with “tiding down” – that is, from the most upward point on the itinerary to the most downward – the uprushing tide from the Irish Sea carrying her from its highest upriver point, Leixlip, down to the last bridge (Loop Line) and out to sea, with os as river’s mouth, at sea’s edge. Compare ALP on the last page – “Carry me along, taddy…” “I rush, my only, into your arms” (628.8, 4) – again, with a play on the phrase “arms of the sea.”) 547.17: “lacksleap:” Leixlip, the beginning of the journey ending in the Irish sea, traditionally marks the farthest point upstream reached by spawning salmon. It is also traditionally the outer edge of the Viking pale, centered in Dublin. As Mink notes, it is where the Liffey crosses from County Kildare to County Dublin. According to the washerwomen of I.8, ALP’s infantile origins were in the uplands of Kildare (202.31). 547.22: “quailless:” besides (McHugh) fearless – perhaps at the end of the quays – out to sea 547.23: “magicianer’s puntpole:” magic wand or staff, perhaps Prospero’s, certainly Poseidon’s trident: see next entry. Also, the pole used in punting. (At .25 we get “rookwards,” backwards, and punters pole backwards.) Also, the (“farruler”) ferrule of .24 adds a walking stick to the mix: Stephen’s ashplant in “Telemachus” has a ferrule. This one definitely stresses the “rule” part. 547.23-4: “the tridont sired a tritan stock:” Poseidon as bearer of trident, as sire of Triton. Spelling of “tritan” may incorporate Tristan. 547.24-5: “and I bade those polyfizzyboisterous seas to retire:” in addition to (see McHugh) Canute, Moses parting – ruling - the Red Sea by raising his staff, here equipped with a (“farruler”) ferrule. (Reverses the Canute story: this time, he tells the sea to reverse course, and it does.) 547.25: ”rookwards, thou seasea stamoror!:” Noah’s (or Gilgamesh’s) raven – in the spirit of “Good riddance,” since it never returned. (The dove did.) Also, this is the last example of HCE’s signature stammer, to which he is saying goodbye: again (see first entry for .4), he is growing in confidence in the process of assuming his role of male mastery. The FW raven had itself been a stammer or stammerer, doing some version of “caw caw” (73.10, 327.35, 329.13, 357.20, 413.35, 534.26): “seasea” as variant of c-c is probably meant to signal that sound. Also - on the verge of a concentration of allusions to Norse mythology - a Viking ship’s raven flag: compare 62.4, 480.1, and 539.35-550.1, with notes. 547.25: “I abridged with domfine norsemanship:” see note to .29-33. 547.26: “norsemanship:” Viking seamanship. Also, damn fine horsemanship: there is also (see .16-7 and note) a horse race going on, in fact this whole impassioned monologue will conclude with a rush to the finish line, with ALP happily whinnying to “the switcheries of the whip” (554.8-9). 547.27: “baresark:” “Tam O’Shanter”’s “sark” is a nightgown, in Burns’ poem a notably (“cutty”) short one, worn by a fetching young witch. Here, it is short to the point of arse-baring. 547.27: “knew:” biblical “know:” to have sex with her. Compare next entry. 547.28: “with all my bawdy did I her whorship:” as McHugh notes, this is from the Anglican wedding ceremony: “With my body I thee worship.” It does not occur in the Catholic equivalent. HCE is Anglican. 547.29-33: “Heaven…hallthundered…Heydays…tenspan joys…arsched…strongbow…ringstresse:” Like “abridged” (.25), elements from Das Rheingold, scene 4. McHugh: “Wagner’s Rainbow-Bridge is created by Donner, crying ‘Heda! Hedo!’” Also present: Donner’s (“hallthundered”) thunderstorm before the Rainbow-Bridge goes up; the bridge’s destination of (“hallthundered”) Valhalla; the all-powerful (“ringstresse”) ring, in dispute throughout. “Tenspan” (span), “arsched” (arch), and “strongbow” (rainbow) all relate to the Rainbow-Bridge. 547.29: “Heaven, he hallthundered:” according to Vico, thunderstorms initiated marriages by scaring couples into caves. 547.29: “Heydays:” one’s heyday is the best time of one’s life. 547.30-1: “arsched overtupped:” “arse over tip” (McHugh) means upside-down. In “Circe” it carries a sexual innuendo, as does the Shakespearean “tup” of “Scylla and Charybdis.” 547.31: “from bank of call to echobank:” from one side of river to the other 547.31: “by dint of strongbow:” the bridges were set up by virtue of the rainbow-shaped arch, strongest of structural shapes. Of Dublin’s bridges, the one that most fits would be the Ha’penny Bridge (other names: Wellington, Cast Iron, Metal, Liffey), upstream from the O’Connell Bridge. 547.32: “streng:” Danish for chord, in this case a chordal, choral conjunction of male and female voices, united in passion. Considering proximity of “strongbow” (.31), perhaps echoes one of the versions (e.g. “Stranghose,” “Strigull”) of Strongbow’s real name. From line 14 on, some of the highly turbulent marriage ceremony being described probably traces to the marriage of Strongbow to Eva (or Eve) MacMurrough, especially as represented in a monumental fresco by Daniel Maclise, signaling the final subjection of Ireland. As Glasheen says, it “pictured the marriage as occurring on the open battlefield of Waterford, amid burning houses and dead bodies.” Strongbow is shown with his foot on a Celtic cross. 547.36-548.1: “what low of dampfbulls!):” what lowing of bulls - possibly including a ship’s bullgine 548.4: “canailles:” dogs. Their barkings have “canzoned” to supply the voices to the (“canzoned,”) canzones – songs - at the wedding, accompanying the “music” of the “singing sands” of the Hebrides. Nature is definitely contributing: holy ointment from geese (see next entry), the bride’s eyes as flowers. 548.3: “herbrides music:” someone making wedding arrangements seems to have messed up: instead of Mendelsohn’s Wedding March, for brides, we get his Hebrides Overture, usually suggestive of dark and spooky doings. 548.3-4: “goosegaze annoynted uns:” goosegrease (McHugh) as both holy ointment and sauce for food. Compare the “duckloving drake” of “Circe,” killed to “graize” “cabbage.” 548.4: “me to she her shyblumes lifted:” Nora Barnacle had blue eyes. 548.5: “pudd:” pud: slang for penis. (See next entry.) Also, pudding. The wedding is a feast, and he is feeding her to fatten her up. (Compare notes to .30, 549.31.) 548.5-17: “I pudd a name and wedlock boltoned round her…I chained her chastemate…who cut her ribbons…I did umgyrdle her about:” Roman wedding. The bride’s dress was fastened with a belt/girdle tied with a complicated “Herculean Knot,” symbolizing chastity. The groom appeared and carried her off with a stagey show of force. In the bedchamber, he untied (ungirdled) – or, here, perhaps recalling Alexander and the Gordian Knot - “cut” the knot. Compare Donne, in “Holy Sonnet 14:” “untie, or break that knot again.” Also, see third note to .10, note to .10-11. 548.5-6: “to carry till her grave:” that is, till death us do part 548.6: “durdin:” Dame Durdin, folk-tale homebody housekeeper; mentioned often in Dickens’ Bleak House. From glamor girl to household drudge, in short order. (By line 8, she is a chambermaid, like Kate (and, in June 1904, Nora) responsible for the chamber pots.) 548.6: “durdin dearly:” phrase: dear dirty Dublin 548.6: “Appia Lippia Pluviabilla:” as Brendan O Hehir notes, both the Appian Way, from Rome to Naples, and the Aqua Appia, the aqueduct which terminated at the Temple of Venus 548.6: “Lippia:” Latin lippa, bleary-eyed 548.7-8: “I chained her chastemate to grippe fiuming smugglers:” a trick chastity belt: instead of obviating penetration, it grabs and holds onto the male perpetrator in the act. Your annotator has heard one or two jokes along this line. 548.8: “grippe:” acute cold 548.8: “fiuming snugglers:” Fiume had a history of being a center for smugglers. 548.8-9: “her chambrett I bestank so to spunish furiosos:” like an animal marking its territory with urine or other scent 548.8-9: “spunish furiosos:” Orlando Furioso - though, to be sure, an Italian, not a Spanish, work 548.9: “hochsized:” high-sized 548.9: “cleavunto:” probably also: cleave in two. (Bloom, in “Circe,” on women: “the cloven sex.”) Like FW’s opening word “riverrun,” encompassing English “rive” and French river, to rivet, “cleave” is a contronym. 548.10: “lauralad:” besides Petrarch’s Laura, Lorelei, the siren of German myth 548.10: “pisoved:” a pissabed is a dandelion. In the language of flowers, it symbolizes faithfulness. As for the piss part, see first note to .8-9. As herbs, dandelions are diuretic. 548.10: “who cut her ribbons:” ceremonial ribbon-cutting, here (“prowes” – prows (.11)) at launching of ship 548.10-11: “when not my prowes?” double-meaning: rhetorical question (who, if not I, did it?) and straightforward question (who did it, when my prowess was not up to it?). Sexual innuendo is clear; compare, again I.8, for instance 198.4-6, or this: “his runagate bowmpriss…roade and borst her bar” (197.35) – his ship’s bowsprit, phallically extending from the prow, not just crossing the harbor bar but bursting through it. 548.11-2: “beachalured:” beach-lured (because they’re sailors (“ankerrides” (.10)) riding at anchor). Also, bachelor-anchorites, being sorely tempted 548.12-3: “in trinity huts they met my dames:” Dame Street forks into College Street and Nassau Street, both adjoining Trinity College. Joyce met Nora on the latter. As one might expect, the song in the background, “At Trinity Church I Met My Doom,” about a marriage the singer regrets, undercuts the sentimentality. Compare next entry. 548.13: “pick of their poke for me:” not a pig in a poke, but the pick. May be a (very) sideways tribute to Nora. Compare “snoutsnooded” (547.15). 548.14: “sumbad:” Sinbad 548.15-6: “gifted of my coataways:” given my coat away 548.15: “cattagut with dogshunds:” cats and dogs 548.15: “dogshunds’ crotts to clene:” McHugh has French crottes, turds, for “crotts.” Certainly sounds like an extreme case, but in “Calypso” Bloom thinks that “Mulch of dung” is the “Best thing to clean ladies kid gloves,” and a list of female finery is about to follow. 548.17: “man of capitol:” that is, capital - that is, money 548.17: “umgyrdle:” ungirdle: undress. (Occurs in this sense in “Telemachus.”) Also, equal-oppositely, German umgürtle, girdle: he goes on to detail all the nice clothes he bought her. 548.19-22: “liberties…catalogue…(see stockinger’s raiment)…(see Agnes’ hats):” department store (McHugh: Liberty’s, quite upmarket) catalogue, followed by directions to the ladies’ hosiery and ladies’ hats sections 548.20: “turkeythighs:” given context, what “Oxen of the Sun” calls “Turkey trunks,” otherwise known as harem pants. Also, more food, more fattening 548.20-1: “soft goods and hardware:” in the language of retail, “soft goods” are, primarily, apparel and bedding. “Hard goods” would include hardware among other items. Certainly a sexual innuendo as well: her softness makes him hard. 548.21: “ladderproof:” ladders in stockings are what Americans call runs. Hence “stockinger’s raiment” (.22) – lamenting what has happened to the raiment 548.21: “hosiery lines:” that is, a brand’s “line” of apparel – here, of hosiery 548.22: “stockinger’s raiment:” Coppinger’s “Lament:” “The Lament,” a poem by Arabella B. Coppinger. It is a dialogue between two lovers in which the woman chooses the man by rejecting the sorts of luxuries here being bestowed on the bride. (Silk stockings, however, are not in the poem’s catalogue of raiment.) Also, see entry for 55.19: it may be a coincidence, but we have just heard of a husband whose extreme tough-love way with his wife is to bolt her down, lock her up, and chain her with a chastity belt (.5-7), and the legendary “Cruel Coppinger” was said to have routinely tied his wife to the bedpost. 548.23: “peningsworths:” perhaps combines U.S. department chains J. C. Penney and Woolworth’s. If so, decidedly a step down from (see .19-20 and note) the luxy Liberty’s. Oxford editors have “penigworths,” which might incorporate pfennig, the German penny. 548.23-4: “silver waterroses:” water-roses: white lotuses. They symbolize purity. 548.24: “wispywaspy:” sheer, wasp-waisted: again, for the fashionably de luxe. Compare next entry. 548.27-8: “on looks:” given the French patch coming up, en luxe – in luxury 548.28-9: “La Primamère, Pyrrha Pyrrhine, Or de Reinebeau, Sourire d’Hiver:” Eve was the first mother; Pyrrha, wife of the Greek Noah, would have been the second first mother. “Or de Reinebeau:” probably the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. (Gold, as in leaves turning yellow, may qualify it to be Autumn, following, as McHugh notes, pyrinos, Greek for “fiery,” as in the heat of summer.) 548.29: “wide a shire:” widdershins – counterclockwise, and generally considered bad luck 548.29: “pattens for her trilibies:” McHugh notes that pattens are overshoes and “trilby” slang for a woman’s foot. (See next entry.) The Trilby of the du Maurier novel has “astonishingly beautiful feet.” A trilby is also a woman’s hat, popular in the late 19th century. Perhaps a case of pied-a-terre equal-opposites 548.30: “the tortuours of the boots:” uncomfortable woman’s footwear. Pattens, usually meant to be worn over regular shoes in muddy weather, would presumably be exceptionally uncomfortable when worn, tout court, by a lady with Trilby’s exquisite feet. 548.30-1: “bedes of wampun with to toy and murcery glaze of shard to mirrow:” tradition that Manhattan was sold to North American Indians – the Manhattans – for trinkets, including beads and mirrors. (See 549.4 and note, and 539.2, where it is probably not accidental that “minhatton” consorts with “buybibles” – Bibles, baubles, buying.) Compare Murphy, in “Eumaeus,” on Indians of Bolivia: “Glass. That boggles ‘em: Glass.” “Wampun:” wampum: American Indian for money. “Murcery glaze:” until the mid-19th century, mirrors were made from glass with a mercury backing. “Shard:” fragments of (broken) glass, including glass mirrors, are frequently called shards. All in all, this marriage arrangement comes with definite drawbacks for the woman: Footbinding, either literal or in the sense of excruciating fashionable footwear (see entry for .30), shiny bright “toy”s of the sort appealing to children and aborigines, and – the female symbol – a mirror, sooner or later broken, bringing its seven years of bad luck: compare “Alis, alas, she broke the glass!...ours is mistery of pain” (270.21-2), a history of pain after getting married to a “mister.” 548.31: “to toy…to mirrow:” today, tomorrow 548.32: “by me and theetime, the cupandnaggin hour:” tea time – tea drunk in cups or “naggins” – small drinking vessels. “Me and thee time” recalls the lyrics (“A boy for you, a girl for me”) of the popular song, “Tea for Two,” elsewhere heard in FW. 548.33-4: “I wound around my swanchen’s neckplace a school of shells of moyles marine to swing their saysangs inher silents:” another passage anticipating FW’s last page, where ALP’s swan song’s “moyles and moyles” (628.3), signals the Thomas Moore song “Silent O Moyle,” sung by “Lir’s lonely daughter,” changed to a swan, to the Moyle Sea, between Ireland and Scotland. Hence, “swanchen’s, “moyles marine,” “saysangs,” and “silents.” It is probably pertinent that Nora’s name was Barnacle, as in barnacle goose, here changed to a swan (FW contains several variations on this theme) and that one of the two birthstones for her March birthday is the aquamarine. (The other one is the heliotrope: compare 470.20 and note. In “Penelope,” Joyce has Molly, born in September, quite incorrectly thinking that the aquamarine is her birthstone – probably a private joke.) “Saysangs:” swan/sea songs, as in “That song sang seaswans” (383.24). “Swanchen’s:” German Schwänchen, baby swan or cygnet, which may be why the necklace of shells is around her “neckplace” – her neck has not yet grown to proper swanlike length. “Inher silents:” inner silence, like Hopkins’ “elective silence,” a religious prescription for world-denying sublimity, in this case enabling her to hear the songs of the sea; “Inner Silence” is the title of a poem on the theme written by Joyce’s patron Harriet Monroe. Fish come in “school”s and shells do not, but compare Stephen in “Proteus:” “High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells.” 548.34: “swing their saysangs:” in “Wandering Rocks,” compare “swingswong,” the sound of Stephen’s ashplant swinging through the air. 548.35: “her aldritch cry:” orgasmic. (Obvious?) Compare, for instance, 395.32. Overtone, noted by McHugh, of “eldritch,” as in the “eldritch scream”s of Gothic fiction (the Gothic pastiche of “Oxen of the Sun” includes an “eldritch laugh”) sustains the pleasure-in-pain element running throughout. 548.35-6: “what though exceeding bitter:” again, anticipates ALP’s swan song: “O bitter ending” (627.34-5) – the bitter taste of the salt sea as the river flows into it. 549.1: “Soll leve!:” sun, arise! It will, beginning in the next chapter. 549.1-19: "with mare's...Hy Kinsella:" E. L. Epstein, A Guide Through Finnegans Wake, 224: "At first the Dublin lighting took the form of cressets, metal baskets with fires within them, then candles and tapers, then gaslight, and finally electric lighting...Joyce here is historically accurate. The Pigeonhouse generator was set up in 1903, and by 1922 the hydroelectric resources of the Shannon were exploited." 549.1-2: “mare’s greese cressets:” see McHugh. “Mare’s grease” – horse corpses, rendered down, and here used as fuel for street lights – was an industrial product of the time. The spelling of “greese” adds goose grease to the mix. (Compare 548.3-4 and note.) Now, a long shot, from your annotator. For the nearby “Madonna lanthorns” (.2-3), McHugh records a time in Paris when the only street lamps were “in front of madonnas at street corners.” I suggest that a “mare’s greece” cresset, incorporating French Mére de grâce, an epithet for the Blessed Virgin Mary, is a variation on the same theme. (Again, a long shot: I’d say the odds are better than even, but not by that much.) 549.3-4: “tallonkindles…syngeing nickendbookers:” the tallow candles (McHugh) are singeing something, probably the edges of the pages of books being read by candle-light. Perhaps “tallon-”/tallow because made from animal fat. See .5 and note. 549.4: “nickendbookers and mhutton:” knickerbockers and (contracted) Manhattan. See 538.33 and note, 548.30-1 and note, and compare 442.8-9 and note: James Fenimore Cooper’s writings made “Dietrich Knickerbocker” the symbol of New York, especially Manhattan. “Mh:” Irish aspiration. 549.4-5: “mhutton lightburnes dipdippingdownes:” more candles. Mutton candles are a variety of (“tallonkindles” (.3)) tallow candle; dip (“dipdippingdownes”) candles can be either tallow or wax. See next entry. 549.5: “tapers:” wax candles – higher class than (.3) the tallow variety. Probable contrast between sense of slender, tapered fingers (again, associated with the upper class, especially elegant ladies) and (“tallonkindles”) talons of .3. In Ulysses, fingers are several times called “talons” – never a compliment. 549.7: “the prince of pacis:” Jesus, the prince of peace. His temporary absence is giving the pagans a break. 549.9: “septuor:” the Heptarchy – seven tribes that ruled Britain (but not Ireland) from approximately the departure of the Romans until King Alfred 549.10-2: “bloody…mournful:” both McHugh and Oxford editors insert “horrible” between “terrible” and “mournful,” thus bringing the number of Ku Klux Klan “months” to twelve. 549.13: “duindleeng lunas:” when the moon is waning (dwindling), he will turn up the light from other sources, as detailed in the next entry. 549.13-9: “helphelped of Kettil Flashnose, for the souperhore of my frigid one…lamping limp…through all Livania’s volted ampire…by Arklow’s sapphire siomen’s lure and Wexterford’s hook and crook lights:” an electrically powered lighthouse, Crookhaven in County Kerry on the west coast combined with Hook in Wexford on the east, signaling (“helphelped:” Help! Help!) either S.O.S. S.O.S. from a ship in distress or assurance that help is on the way. Both regions had a history of wreckers, using lighthouse-like lights to lure ships onto the rocks, to be wrecked and plundered. In “Nausicaa,” Bloom’s evening sight of Bailey Lighthouse makes him think of “wreckers.” 549.14: “souperhore:” supper hour, beginning with soup. Also, compare “super whore” (183.27). 549.15: “Wastewindy tarred strate:” McHugh identifies this as West 23rd Street in Manhattan. For most of Joyce’s life, it was the center of the theatre district. New York streets were, or were thought to be, paved with tar. (Not, for sure, gold.) A West Wind would have a straight, powerful conduit down the west-east cross streets on Manhattan’s grid. In Shelley’s “Ode to the West Wind,” the west wind is a wasting bringer of death. Perhaps also an echo of Damascus’ “Street called Straight,” visited by Saint Paul 549.15: “halles:” as in music halls. Compare “Hades:” “a rollicking rattling song of the halls.” Also, as (McHugh) Paris’s Les Halles, more food 549.15-6: “lamping limp from black to block:” compare Portrait, chapter two: “a few lanterns hung in the night breeze, flickering cheerlessly.” More generally, he is installing street lamps, replacing the “black” of night with what from above would look like rectangular blocks bordered in lights. The electrification of Ireland ran from the 1880s up until the 1940s. 549.16: “Livania’s volted ampire:” overtone: Britannia’s vaunted empire. (Also, the Roman Empire of Augustus and Livia.) The previous line’s allusion to (“Elgin’s marble halls”) the Elgin marbles, relocated from Athens to the British Museum, recalls that these technological innovations can enable imperialistic expropriation. 549.16: “Livania’s…ampire:” Livia, consort to the Emperor Augustus, with overtone of “sylvania” – abundant in forests. Also, the Liffey 549.16: “volted:” vaunted 549.16: “ampire:” the Empire, a London music hall, lit up – amped – by electricity 589.17: “the topazolites of Mourne:” “top of the morning:” a typical/stereotypical Irish greeting 589.17-20: “topazolites…sapphire…peurls:” topaz, sapphire, pearls: from a distance, municipal lights look like jewels. 549.18: “Wykinloeflare:” as McHugh notes, the “Viking name of Wicklow town.” Mink adds that “the Vikings maintained a navigational beacon there” – yet another lighthouse - and that the “loe” in its name is Old Danish for “blaze.” 549.18: “Arklow’s sapphire siomen’s lure:” compare “Michael Arklow” (203.18). “Siomen’s:” seaman’s, semen. Also, Mink: Siemens Schuckert: “Ger[man] electrical equipment firm; it constructed the power sta[tion] of the Shannon hydroelectric works...FW credits it also with the lighthouses at Arklow and Wicklow (245.8, 549.18) and the electrification of Dub[lin].” 549.19: “hook and crook:” by hook or by crook. The founder’s methods are not over-nice. 549.20: “pearls ahumming:” compare opening sentence of “Two Gallants:” the street’s gas lamps are “Like illumed pearls.” “Ahumming” indicate that gaslight has since been replaced by electricity, with its humming wires (cf. “Wires hummed” (98.14)) – again, an ongoing development throughout most of Joyce’s lifetime. Compare next entry. 549.20-1: “the crown to my estuarine munipicence:” the Liffey is an estuary, here being crowned with humming (electrical) pearls. Also, eastern (Asian) magnificence, regal munificence, with pearls crowning the municipal display 549.21-2: “three firths of the sea I swept with draughtness and all ennempties I bottled em up in bellomport:” distinction between draught beer and bottled. (Washing out empty beer bottles is a job of Sackerson, the assistant; see, e.g. 141.8-9.) Also, to “sweep the sea” is to clear it of undesirables – pirates or (“ennempties”) enemies; Holland’s Admiral Maarten Tromp was said to have attached a broom to his ship’s mast because he had “swept the English from the sea.” (Among others, the Emperor Augustus was also credited with having rid the seas of pirates.) Similarly, enemy naval forces are sometimes described as having been “bottled up” in port. 549.25: “what is seizer can hack in the old wold a sawyer may hew in the green:” hack and hew – two actions involved in cutting down trees. What Caesar did in the old world – seize an empire, by force – his ruder counterpart may do in the new world of Tom Sawyer’s America. Both empires will involve a good deal of deforestation. 549.25: “seizer…sawyer:” see-saw 459.25-6: “old wold…green:” old wood versus new (green) wood. Has a seasonal meaning for gardeners, but here probably applies more to the “old growth” and “new growth” timber of forestry. 549.25: “old wold:” in Britain, “wold” frequently connotes landed-estate country-house old money. 549.25-6: “a sawyer may hew in the green:” sawyers saw wood, here greenwood - in the hue of green. 549.26: “the wildth of me perished:” in context, wild part or stage of life. Also – see next entry – those who live by the sword shall perish by the sword. 549.27: “took my plowshare sadly, feeling pity for my sored:” abandoning his wild youth, leaving soldiery (sword) for farming (ploughshares), he has settled down to a life of comfy domestic copulation (one of several FW comparisons of intercourse to sowing), which, being, accordingly, less frequent and vigorous than before, at least (though, to be sure, sadly) prevents his penis from getting (pitiably) sore. “Sadly” originally meant steadily or seriously – the opposite of wildly. Compare 327.25-328.3, where love and marriage induce the fierce Viking “Norgeyborgey” to “beat his barge into a battering pram.” Also, possibly a version of Bruno’s motto “In tristitia hilaris hilaritate tristis:” here, as pleasure in sadness. 549.29: “burn:” OE: water from fountain or well 549.31: “her turlyhyde I plumped with potatums:” comparing one’s beloved to a whale is odd, but in their early days Joyce did sometimes encourage Nora to gain weight. “Potatums:” potatoes 549.32: “biblous beadells:” given .29-30 allusion to “The Cricket on the Hearth,” this probably refers to Maria Beadnell, Dickens’ first love, fictionalized in Little Dorrit as the (bibulous) Florence Finching, whose stream-of-consciousness ramblings anticipate Molly Bloom’s. The Beadnell-Finching connection was public knowledge as of 1910. (Probably not coincidental that Bleak House was heard from at 548.6.) 549.33: “duffed:” dubbed 549.34-5: “Sire Noeh Guinnass, exposant of his bargeness:” Guinness’ Liffey barges; the drunken Noah (by way of Sir Arthur Guinness’s production of alcoholic beverages and of his water-borne barges; Noah invented liquor and had an ark) showing his nakedness (here, probably, his large arse: Eric Partridge has “barge-arse” as current in Joyce’s time) to his son Ham; American “ass,” in “Guinnass,” may figure in. (There are a number of FW cases where the American “ass” equivalent of “arse” seems plausibly pertinent.) 549.36: “I screwed the Emperor down:” Napoleon’s tomb. Screwed down or not, the lid definitely looks heavy enough to (finally) keep him confined. 549.36-550.1: “with ninepins gaelic with sixpennyhapennies:” Napoleon was born in 1769. 550.1-3: “my worthies were bissed and trissed from Joshua to Godfrey but my processus prophetarum they would have plauded to perpetuation:” my procession of the nine worthies, as traditionally staged (“craftygild pageantries” (594.32-3)) by guilds of craftsmen and tradesmen, was so popular that the audience called for encores (“Bis!:” compare “TUTTI” in “Circe:” “Encore! Bis!”), and even re-encores (“Tris!”), but that was nothing compared to how they would have responded to my staged procession of the prophets, which was or would have been so amazing that they would never have been allowed it to close down. (Love’s Labour’s Lost includes a staged procession of the nine worthies.) 550.3: “see press:” in context: check your local paper for listings and times, for instance of the show just described. 550.6: “- Steving’s grain for greet collegtium:” evidently a response to the previous comment, that he’s underfed: here, a collection of grain. “The Great Collect” is part of the Catholic and Anglican liturgy. Stephen’s Green would go with Luke’s Leinster (and it here occupies Leinster’s usual third place in FW’s lists of the four provinces), but I can’t identify any other such geographical markers for the other three. 550.7: “The S.S. Paudraic’s in the harbour:” perhaps because Joyce’s friend Padraic Colum went to America. (Joyce once told Colum that he had been “worked into” FW.) American ship names are prefixed with “S.S.” 550.8: “carlen:” darling. Paired and contrasted with the “mongoloid” introduced at .17: the first is being fed, the second excretes. ALP’s number is usually three, but here – compare “Duanna” (551.6) – seems to be divided into two, upper half and lower half. 550.8-9: “linsteer:” youngster – by contrast with “carlen”/carline, as McHugh notes, ME for old woman. Why, as noted by McHugh, Leinster? Perhaps because, as an Irish Augustus, he has been recounting his building of, mainly, Dublin, which is in the province of Leinster. 550.10-1: “shains of garleeks:” chains of garlic heads 550.9-11: “italics of knobby lauch…garleeks:” McHugh: Knoblauch is German for garlic. “Garlic-eaters” was a slur for Italians or people of (“italics”) Italian ancestry. 550.11: “swinespepper and gothakrauts:” pigs and goats 550.12: “subleties in jellywork:” both McHugh and Oxford replace “subleties” with “subtleties.” What one 1917 cookbook calls “elaborate gelatine dish[es]” – gelatine desserts moulded into ostentatiously ornamental shapes – were popular for dinner parties. 550.14: “pudding, bready and nutalled:” breadnut pudding 550.14: “potted fleshmeats:” fleshpots; refreshments 550.15: “the drugs of Kafa and Jelupa:” the latter probably refers to juleps – sweet drinks, sometimes medicinal and, in Joyce’s time, best known in the form of mint juleps, a traditional Kentucky cocktail. (Joyce’s friend Maria Jolas, from Kentucky, could have told him about them.) Considered as drugs, coffee is a stimulant and a mint julep, being alcoholic, a depressant. Also, “drugs” as dregs 550.15: “dampkookin:” damper: an Australian term for bread baked in the ashes of a fire – here, in the kitchen 550.15-6: “shallots out of Ascalon:” Elaine of Astalot, Tennyson’s “Lady of Shalott” 550.17: “saffronbreathing mongoloid:” the opposite of “garbage breath” (.9). In cooking, saffron adds a sweet, flowery scent; it is also (again, unlike garbage) very expensive. Given racialist dimension of what follows, probably implies mixed-race – e.g. mulatto. Napoleon’s Josephine would be an example. 550.18: “Biorwik’s powlver:” as McHugh notes, Borwick’s Baking Powder; advertisements of the time claimed that it “makes the bread so white.” Compare note to .18-9. 550.18: “Uliv’s oils, unguents of cuticure:” in the ancient world, olive oil was the oil of anointment. (Of course, it is also used in cooking.) 550.18-9: “oils, unguents of cuticure, for the swarthy searchall’s face on her:” In early 20th century ads, Cuticura soaps and ointments stressed their “whitening” powers. “Swarthy” is of course dark-skinned. Compare 538.3-4, where a “niggeress” (537.24) is attempting to whiten her “cocoa contours” with (white) “talc.” African-Americans of the period sometimes purchased products advertised as skin-whiteners. As noted before, Issy’s mirror-self Marge is sometimes dark-skinned; here, either ALP or her (“tussy”) vagina (see first note to .20) is “brown but combly” (.20). 550.19: “handewers:” a hand-ewer – mostly used to pour water for washstands 550.20: “a carrycam to tease her tussy out, the brown but combly:” see next entry. A currycomb used to tease pubic hair: this certainly contrasts with the “carlen”’s (.8) daintiness. 550.20: “tussy:” pussy. See next entry. 550.20: “brown but combly:” given context (see McHugh), probably pubic hair 550.21: “mopsa’s broom:” Mopsa: a fairy whose broom clears away the shadows of night. Also, in The Winter’s Tale, a country wench, given to jealousy. (The word “broom” never appears in the play.) Also, broom – the plant, not the implement - as shrub, or leaves of shrub. Here, used as toilet paper; compare 79.15-6: “when a frond was a friend inneed.” 550.21-2: “clubmoss and wolvesfoot:” wolf’s foot (or wolf’s claw) is another name for lycopodium/clubmoss. It can irritate or inflame the mucous membranes – “her more moister wards” – and has been used as an aphrodisiac. (This is presumably why, in “Circe,” Virag, an authority on recondite smut, recommends it to Bloom.) Its spores are highly combustible and, as “lycopodium powder,” were used in the early days of flash photography. 550.22: “efficiencies:” apartments with limited facilities for washing and cooking 550.23: “doveling:” compare ALP as “diveline” (202.8). Also, Dublin 550.24: “saloons esquirial:” in the FW years, a saloon in this context would have been a large cabin for someone traveling first-class on an ocean liner. (Compare 323.27 and 395.10 and notes.) Overtone of “esquire” confirms. 550.25: “giltedged librariums:” gilt-edged books in a private library 550.26: “wring her withers limberly:” this is confusing. He is reviewing all the nice things he did for her, but in no sense is wringing someone’s withers a nice thing to do, limberly or otherwise. 550.26: “wheatears:” Mohammed had a dove which he fed with wheat out of his ear. 550.27: “drapier-cut-dean:” diamond cut diamond; Jonathan Swift-cut-Jonathan Swift. In other words, who but Swift would be a match for Swift? (A good question.) 550.28: “lairdie:” laird, feminized with addition of “lady” 550.29: “oilclothed:” oil paintings. Also, oilcloths as protective coverings for furniture 550.31: “Dirk Wettingstone:” a whetstone would be used to sharpen a dirk. 550.32-3: “Mrs Currens, Mrs Reyson-Figgis, Mrs Dattery, and Mrs Pruny-Ouetch:” what do currants, raisins, figs, dates, and prunes have in common? They are all, or usually would be by the time they were on the Dublin market, dried and shriveled. The same goes for the quetch, which in the words of the OED is “often dried or stewed.” These are names of high-toned (and dried-up) old ladies. (Is the “O” in “Ouetch” a mistake for “Q?” Not according to the Oxford editors.) 550.34-5: “dabblingtime for exhibiting her grace of aljambras and duncingk the bloodanoobs:” 1. In light of “clocksure” and “ballast” (.551.1), it’s pertinent that the (“duncingk”) Dunsink Observatory determined “Dunsink Time,” which was also Dublin time: Dublin’s definitive (“ballast” (551.1)) Ballast Clock ran on Dunsink Time. 2. Dancing the Beautiful Blue Danube waltz in double-time certainly gave her a chance to show of her “grace”-ful –“jamb”s–, legs. For her partner, see entry after next. 550.35-6: “duncingk…in her vauxhalls:” a Vauxhall dancer – one of the “Vauxhall ontheboards” (58.33). Such dancing would be considerably more accelerated than a waltz – that is, at normal tempo. Also, see next entry. 550.36-551.1: “dizzed and dazed by the lumpty thumpty of our interloopings, fell clocksure off my ballast:” 1. Vauxhall entertainments included tightrope-walkers, one of whom has lost his balance and is falling like Humpty Dumpty. 2. Keeping up with the (“dabblingtime” (.34)) double-time waltzing has made him lose his balance, from all the twirly “interloopings.” 3. Vigorous sex – the thumps of our interlooping rumpy-pumpy – left me dizzy and dazed. Possibly, she was the “ballast” he fell off of. 551.1: “windtor palast:” like much of the European royalty of Joyce’s time, the Romanovs, with their Winter Palace, were related to the English Windsors, of Windsor Palace. 551.3-4: “chauffed her fuesies at my Wigan’s jewels while she skalded her mermeries on my Snorryson’s Sagos:” see McHugh. Foot to head, the latter containing memories, being recalled to mind by the skald. In other words, warming her feet at the coals in the fire (again, see McHugh)– natural enough, in a (.1) winter palace - while listening to someone telling stories 551.5: “lecking icies off the dormer panes all admired her in camises:” Spanish incamisa: unshirted. (At .14 a “prostitute” will be “shiftless.”) They licked the ice off the (Winter Palace) window panes to get a better view of her form – both when admiring her fashionable attire and when minus said attire; compare 395.8-12. 551.6: “in camises:” in camera 551.6-7: “on Rideau Row Duanna dwells, you merk well what you see:” Hyde Park’s Rotten Row was a favorite flirting and trysting spot for tony young horsewomen, here accompanied by a chaperoning duenna. (“Rideau” probably sounds overtone of “Riding” or “Riders.”) As the case of Acteon illustrates, it could be dangerous to observe Diana, horsewoman and virgin goddess of the hunt, too closely or completely – for instance in looking behind the rideau, French for curtain. 551.7: “you merk well:” Dutch je merkt wel, meaning: you will notice 551.7-8: “let wellth were I our pantocreator would theirs be tights for the gods:” 1. With “let wellth” as (McHugh) Dutch let wel, meaning mark you. Paraphrase: To be sure, if I were in charge, the results would really be something to see – a sight for the gods. 2. Some of the verbal interplay escapes me, but it clearly relies on a double sense of the “pant/o” in “pantomime:” first as “pants” (compare 257.20, 434.8-9), second as panto, all. Linking the two is the fact (again, see 434.8-9) that pantomime artistes often wore tights, not pants. 3. The highest and most distant seats in a theatre are “the gods,” because nearest the ceiling, which was often painted with images of classical divinities. Ironically, rather than an actual site for the god-like, they were usually taken by the low-paying hoi-polloi. 4. Jesus as Greek and Byzantine Pantocreator, perhaps as the world-watching figure depicted in the frescoes on church dome ceilings, for instance at Cefalù or Palermo in Sicily. Combining this god with the theatre-going “gods,” and Pantocreator with panto-producer, would be entirely typical of Joyce’s brand of sacred-profane mix-and-match. Compare next entry. 551.7: “pantocreator:” Oxford editors have “puntocreator,” which would bring in Joyce himself, FW’s “illstarred punster” (467.29). If (see previous entry) Jesus is the pun-master as well, it would be from his “TU ES PETRAS, ET SUPER HANC PETRAM AEDIFICABO ECCLESIAM MEAM,” inscribed in another dome, Saint Peter’s. 551.8: “reddinghats:” red riding hats, sometimes used in hunts. Also, speaking of (see above) Saint Peter’s, would be right for a conclave of cardinals. 551.9: “cindery yellows and tinsel and glitter:” French etincelles, sparks, glittering in the fireplace, along with the glowing cinders. In general, part of a list of theatrical effects in a Christmas pantomime 551.9-10: “I made nusance of many well pressed champdamors and peddled freely in the scrub:” I made use of the well-worn paths through the field and also walked (with my feet) freely through the “scrub” – lands, by contrast, unvisited by pedestrians. Overtone of “piddled” (McHugh; compare 7.29) could be recalling the park scandal: see entry for .12-3. Making use of the scrub for that purpose, he made a public nuisance of himself. 551.10: “well pressed:” well-dressed; perhaps also well-pleased, as in the “wellpleased pleasers” of “Proteus.” Oxford editors have “wellpressed.” 551.10: “well pressed champdamors:” French champ d’amour: love and love-making, often compared to a field of combat, as in (McHugh) Paris’s Champ de Mars; perhaps also troubadours 551.12: “joybelled:” Christiani suggests either/both German jubeln / Danish juble, to rejoice. In “Wandering Rocks,” Father Conmee remembers the song “The Joybells Were Ringing in Gay Malahide.” 551.12-3: “light-a-leaves:” in “Scylla and Charybdis,” a “light of love” is a prostitute. Compare 266.26-267.1, and see next. Paired with “traemen” (.13), three men, a memory of the two girls and three soldiers of the park scandal. This time around, the girls are leaves, the men trees. 551.14: “I said the to the shiftless prostitute; let me be your fodder:” Synge’s inclusion of the word “shifts” in The Playboy of the Western World caused outrage. Also, perhaps another allusion to Gladstone’s attempts to reform (young) prostitutes, with the usual FW insinuation of ulterior motives. (Note: “;” is confusing here, since this clearly seems to be indicating that “let me be your fodder” is what he “said.” There are other instances in this sequence where the distinctions between colon, semicolon, and comma seem problematic. In general – compare note to 162.9 – FW punctuation can sometimes raise doubts about how careful or consistent the book’s near-blind author was able to be.) 551.15-6: “omnient as the Healer’s word:” literally, all-denying, with overtones (ironic, as underscored by capitalization of “Healer’s”) of omniscient, omnipotent. “Healer’s word:” a ward heeler was a local political operative, assumed to be a machine hack. (For faith-healers, much the same.) 551.16-7: “for the lost, loathsome and whomsoever will:” as in the “To whom it may concern” of a last will and testament 551.17-20: “regimentation…latification:” “-ation” words are the trademark of the twelve customers. Here, the general sense is that they are getting organized in order to improve their collective lot. 551.23: “lighters:” flat-bottom barges 551.25: “under astrolobe from my upservatory:” most generally, a lobe is a rounded projection – for instance, a pod. From Joyce’s time into our own, many astronomical observatories have been constructed as domes, with a slot thorough which the telescope points (to observe) upward. (See, for instance, “Observatories” in Wikipedia Images.) Observatory combined with astrolabe: among other things, the astrolabe was used to identify and track stars and planets. Here, it is also an opening, perhaps in the roof, above an outdoor toilet. Compare Bloom, in “Calypso,” sitting on the privy seat: “Before sitting down he peered through a chink up at the nextdoor window.” Compare next entry. 551.26-7: “wherewithin to be squatquit in most covenience:” squatting on the toilet seat. Again (see 24.2, 219.2, 433.24-5, .6), “conveniences” is or was a polite term for public toilets. 551.27: “covenience…sabbath:” witches’ sabbath, in a coven 551.27-8: “when open noise should stilled be:” see 314.28-9 and note. In using a public toilet (.25 and note) a well-bred lady would naturally want, as 386.2-3 puts it, to “keep all the horrid rudy noises locked up in nasty cubbyhole.” 551.28: “with mortarboard my unniversiries:” mortarboard hats worn at university graduation; mortarboards used by brick-laying builders of universities: not quite the same as Finnegan’s hod, but close 551.29: “sophister agen sorefister:” typical university face-off between academically serious students and pugnacious “hearties;” Wilde, for instance, once physically expelled four of the latter from his Oxford rooms. “Sophister,” of course, comes from Greek for wisdom, here opposed to brawlers with sore fists, from all their fisticuffs. 551.30: “two stellas of little egypt:” “Little Egypt” was the stage name of two belly dancers, both of whom became famous in Chicago in 1893, one at the World’s Columbian Exhibition, the other at the World’s Fair. (A third was to become notorious for her role in a New York society scandal. There were many imitators who took the same name.) Also, the two women of the Dublin coat of arms. Also, probably, the pair of steles, each called Cleopatra’s Needle, named for an Egyptian temptress: note “Threadneedles” at .33. 551.31: “rockcut readers:” the letters on the Rosetta Stone – a stele (.30) - are cut in rock. 551.31: “hieros, gregos and democriticos:” a Vico-ish progression: divine, (gregarious) group, mob 551.31-2: “triscastellated, bimedallised:” 3, 2; perhaps should be joined with two upright steles of .30 – an invariable Issy signature – to make 1132. (.32 and .33 will follow with a 7 (HCE) and a 12 (the customers).) 551.32-3: “Hibernska Ulitzas:” surely Ulysses, Joyce’s Hibernian version of the story of Ulysses. See three entries after the next. 551.33: “made not I to pass…and Vicus Veneris to cooinsight:” some tricky syntax. Paraphrase: Didn’t I make “not I” (see next entry) pass through twelve needles, and didn’t I also make “Newgade” and “Vicus Veneris” coincide? 551.33: “not I:” see note to .32-3. Odysseus, as No-man in the Cyclops’ cave. 551.33-4: “to pass through twelve Threadneedles and Newgade and Vicus Veneris to cooinsight:” the twelve central episodes of Ulysses (the “Odyssey”) correspond to a mariner’s negotiation of obstacles and hazards; the last three (“Nostos”) might be read as about the approach to and attainment of (“Veneris”) love; “cooinsight,” by way of both Noah and Columbus, is the (cooing) dove whose return shows that the end is in sight. (It is also the right bird for a (“Vicus Veneris”) lovers’ lane, with its billing and cooing. 551.33-4: “twelve Threadneedles and Newgade:” again (see 494.3-4 and note) suggests that Joyce was aware of the tradition that the “Eye of a Needle” of Jesus’ words about the rich was actually the name of a small Jerusalem gate. Still, the severity remains, is in fact multiplied: a rich man getting into heaven will be like a camel having to pass through not one but twelve eyes of needles, not coincidentally named for the address of the Bank of England. Also – see previous entry – Odysseus retakes command in Ithaca by shooting an arrow through twelve axe-heads, as if threading not one but twelve needles. 551.33-4: “Threadneedles and Newgade to cooinsight:” paired opposites: Threadneedle Street the headquarters of London capitalists; Newgate Prison a famous London prison for impoverished wretches – paired contraries made to (“cooinsight”) coincide. 551.35-552.1: “Oi polled ye many but my fews were chousen (Voter, voter, early voter, he was never too oft for old Sarum):” 1. See McHugh on the rotten-borough Old Sarum, whose voters were few to the point of zero; 2. Echoes old Irish-American political gag: Vote early, vote often 552.1: “terminals:” in light of (see McHugh) Irish rail services, train terminals 552.3-10: “And I sept…holied!:” I built an ecumenical site of religious worship – sept (see next), nave and vault, minsters, “-kirks,” ark for Protestant covenanters, sinner’s refuge, St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s and Hagia Sofia. 552.3: “sept:” enclosure in church 552.3-5: “my stavekirks wove so norcely of peeled wands and attachatouchy floodmud, now all loosebrick and stonefest:” the Gaelic for Dublin is Baile Àtha Cliath, “Settlement of the Hurdle Ford” – that is, a ford in the Liffey made of hurdles, that is, woven boughs (“peeled wands”) and river mud. For “attachatouchy,” McHugh and Mink (Mink has a question mark, signaling uncertainty) give Georgia’s Chattahoochee River. (Dublin, Georgia is on the Oconee River (3.7), not the Chattahoochee.) 552.4: “norcely:” as McHugh says, Norse, nicely. Dublin was founded by Vikings. 552.5: “loosebrick:” “It may half been a missfired brick” (5.26). See next entry. 552.5: “stonefest:” steadfast stone: opposite of “loosebrick” 552.6-7: “descent from above on us:” address to dove depicted at the top of St. Peter’s dome. See entry after next. 552.7: “Astralia:” star-land 552.8: “our aeone tone aeones thy studvaast vault:” a comment, probably onomatopoetically imitative, on vault’s acoustics, here echoing the chanted “orisons” (.7), perhaps with reference to St. Paul’s whispering gallery 552.8-9: “Hams, circuitise! Shemites, retrace!:” see above: again, probably circulating/echoing of sound in whispering gallery. “Circuitise,” usually spelled “circuitize,” means to make a complete circuit. 552.9: “no barkeys!:” on behalf of enforcing silence in the cathedral, no barking dogs allowed. (Perhaps no carnival barkers, either.) Goes with orders to Noah’s two disreputable sons, Ham and Shem, to keep a wide berth, get back, and be quiet. (Noah’s third son Japheth is not named, and may be the one giving the orders. Normally, FW incorporates Ham into Shem, the outcast son cursed by both his father and by the one virtuous brother.) Also compare 62.31, where a “barkiss” is a revolver, so called because of its (conventionally) “bark”ing sound when fired. 552.9: “hereround:” see preceding three entries. 552.13-4: “gobelins guard!: tect my tileries!:” Protect my tiles/Tuileries! (Tuiles is French for tiles; the Tuileries was originally a tile-making factory.) Before occupation by the Paris Commune, the Tuileries included Gobelin tapestries. Its roof (“tect,” from Latin tectus, and roofs are often covered with (“tileries”) tiles) and interior were destroyed in 1871; the structure itself was torn down eleven years later. 552.14: “keep my keep:” defend the castle keep 552.15-6: “my four great ways: oathiose infernals to Booth Salvation, arcane celestials to Sweatenburgs Welhell!:” shortly after the building of a church (.3-10), the prospects for the afterlife. Four “ways” or not, I can count only two, roughly comprising salvation through works and salvation through faith: the infernally odious are converted and saved through the good works of (McHugh) William Booth’s Salvation (Oxford editors have “Salivation”) Army; the divinely inspired are already headed toward a Swedenborgian Valhalla. (As usual, there are complications, some of them coinciding contraries: “Sweatenburgs” may include Purgatory, where sinners excrete impurities, and “Welhell” certainly seems to include Hell. “Booth Salvation” includes (compare 26.18-9) the Salvation Boat of The Book of the Dead. “Well hell!” “Welhell!”) sounds a lot like (“oathiose infernals”) an infernal oath. 552.16-7: “My seven wynds I trailed to maze:” Seven narrow lanes (“wynds:” McHugh), intersecting, would make for a maze. Allusion to Ariadne and her thread trailing through Daedalus's maze 552.16: “My seven wynds:” Christ’s seven last words – another variation on the theme of the afterlife. (It’s perhaps pertinent here that the “words” are actually sentences.) Also, the Hindu god Vayu commands seven winds. 552.17-8: “I trailed to maze her:” I tried to amaze her. 552.18-9: “flagged with the gust, hoops for her, hatsoff for him and ruffles through Neeblow’s garding:” the winds blew the flag out, blew up her hooped skirts, blew off his hat, and ruffled the gentleman’s knee-ruffles (ornamental lace worn to guard the knee-buckles). It also ruffled the flowers in the garden. Also, a sequence of celebratory gestures: flying a flag, hoop-hurrah, hats off, ruffles and flourishes 552.19: “Neeblow’s Garden:” Nibelung: dwarf and guardian of treasure in Siegfried saga 552.20: “Blabus:” as Latin for stammer, this recalls HCE, the stammerer 552.20: “eltering the suzannas:” elder, getting older. Combined with (McHugh) Eltern, German for parents, and the story of Suzanna and elders, a variation of FW’s theme of old men lusting after young women – perhaps why in this case the male (“Blabus”) is singular and the female is plural. 552.22: “auburn:” Nora Barnacle had auburn hair. 552.23: “massgo bell:” bell signaling mass 552.23-4: “bell, sixton clashcloshant:” a six-ton bell, clanging. (Philadelphia’s Liberty Bell is the best-known, but Mink does not include it here, and your annotator can find nothing corroborating in the vicinity.) 552.23: “sixton:” a church’s sexton. Bell-ringing is part of the job description. 552.24-5: “duominous and muezzatinties to commind the fitful:” a mosque typically consists of a domed structure, plus minarets from which muezzins call the faithful to prayer – the Islamic equivalent the church’s “massgo bell,” “commind[ing] the fitful” (.24-5). 552.24: “duominous:” Dominus of Latin prayer 552.24: “muezzatinties:” mezzotints: given context, religious scenes in church publications and posters 552.24-5: "fitful" given context, probably alludes to tradition that Mohammed was subject to epileptic fits 552.25: “lauds:” Archbishop Laud, early 17th century proponent of high-church Anglican liturgy. As English “laud,” prayer, as praising God, to (“tellforth’s glory” (.26)) tell forth his glory. 552.26-7: “shallow laver to slub out her hellfire:” baptismal font at front of church; also, bidet. For an infant, it washes away original sin; for a loose woman, it both cools her lust and soothes rashes or whatever resulting from sexual or other incontinence. 552.27: “hellfire:” Dublin’s Hellfire Club, identified by McHugh, was irreligious and anti-religious, devoted to flouting Christian pieties. 552.27-8: “gospelly pewmillieu:” includes “pew,” perhaps on the gospel side of the altar 552.28: “christous pewmillieu:” Christ be with you 552.28: “zackbutts:” hackbut: Renaissance firearm; see next entry. 552.29: “chillybombom:” bombom: sound of guns (or bombs); Turgesius and Ota (see McHugh), like the English and the speaker, were victors through violence. 552.30: “altarstane:” “stane” is Scottish for stone – specifically, the Stone of Scone, which was, after being stolen from the Irish and before being stolen by the (“sass her nach” (.29), Sassenachs, that is, English, positioned next to the altar. Ceremonially important for coronations 552.30: “May all have mossyhonours!:” May Allah have mercy on her! (But compare note to 550.21-2.) Also, may the church or cathedral be around long enough for moss to grow on it. 552.35-6: “ – And wholehail snaeffell, dreardrizzle or sleetshowers of blessing:” an extravaganza on Ezekiel 34:26, “showers of blessings,” frequently quoted in the sermons and homilies of Joyce’s time. “Wholehail” is probably a drawn-out “while,” to pair with the “where” of .36. 552.36-553.1: “fairskin book:” foolscap paper. Also, red-headed people, who tend to be unusually pale, were sometimes called “fairskins.” Also, “anthropodermic” books, bound in human skin, have been a collector’s specialty since the late 17th century; the first on record was a Bible, and there have been several anthropodermic volumes of pornography; “vein” and “vergin page” would seem to go with the latter. Here, also seems to go with the Thomas Moore song “Take Back the Virgin Page,” of line 1, the page in question being a blank piece of letter paper that the singer is reluctant to fill with his inadequate writing. 552.36: “where it froze in chalix:” Specifically, the communion wine (and water) froze in the (frozen) chalice. In general, extremes of the weather he has endured 553.1: “vergin page:” “vergin” instead of “virgin:” Virgil/Vergin interchangeably: both spellings have long occurred in about equal number. Sortes Virgiliana: the Roman practice of opening the Aeneid at random and taking the first verse noticed as a guide for the day; some Christians have done the same with the Bible. 553.2: “learn:” American slang for “teach” 553.2: “countrymouse:” in the story of “The City Mouse and the Country Mouse,” the naïve one 553.2-3: “alphabeater cameltemper:” Hebrew gimel means “camel.” Compare 107.34. In the words of an old American schoolchild song, this is “Readin’ and writin’ and ‘rithmatic, taught to the tune of the teacher’s stick.” He is teaching his illiterate student her A B C’s, and his methods are severe, with a pronounced S & M component: he is her “chastener” (.1), an “alp[ha]beater,” flailing away with birch (“alderbirk” (.3)) and “rattan” (.3). Whether in classroom or bedroom, he did not spare the rod. Compare 554.7-9, and see next entry. 553.3: “tannenyou, with myraw rattan:” tan: American slang for spanking or whipping (occurs in Huckleberry Finn), e.g. to “tan” someone’s “hide,” until it’s raw. Hence “rattan,” a word in its time virtually synonymous with the whipping of students and other subordinates. Here, goes with “cuts” (.6), “bludded,” and “agore” (.7) – a nasty business. 553.3: “myraw rattan:” raw rattan is rattan in its original state, with its tough skin intact. (Peeled rattan, with the skin removed, is used for furniture, rugs, etc. – see entry for .4-9.) 553.3-4:” rattan atter dundrum:” probably onomatopoetic: a rattan is also (OED) a “drumming or beating noise.” 553.4: “ooah, oyir, oyir, oyir:” given last few entries, probably the cries of the whipped. That they may involve cries of pleasure (O yes o yes) seems a possibility left open. 553.4-9: “I did spread before my Livvy….my selvage mats of lecheworked lawn:” again (see .3 and second note), some rugs are made from rattan. The term “mat selvage” shows up in maritime manuals on knots and, until the early twentieth century, rigging on sailing ships. It can also apply to basket-weaving – probably, in fact, to any kind of weaving or knotting or splicing, with, in this case, strips of peeled rattan, here for either/both a rattan rug or, for ALP, an elegant gown of “lacework lawn,” using “lawn” in the sense of fine linen. (In “Circe,” an ivory gown is fringed with “tasselled selvedge.”) In other words, he is 1. weaving a carpet for her to enter on; 2. outfitting her to be a doormat; 3. outfitting her to be a society belle or grande dame. From 553.1 on, she is being alternately or simultaneously degraded and exalted. The whipping sounds go from him being her “chastener” (.1) to, at the end, her laughing along in appreciation as he uses the whip on horses, perhaps (“Down with them!” (554.9)) other kinds of underlings as well. 553.5: “Cammomile Pass:” echoes earlier allusion (551.33-4) to Christ’s declaration that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. London’s Cammomile Street is about a hundred yards from Threadneedle Street – felicitously enough, the address of the Bank of England. 553.5: “Cammomile Pass cuts Primrose Rise:” both streets are in the City of London, the financial center – therefore, presumably, the domain of the well-to-do. (“Rise” may suggest new-rich uppitiness; see next entry.) 553.6: “cuts:” pointedly ignores someone’s presence: a high-society insult 553.6: “Coney Bend bounds Mulbreys Island:” as McHugh says, Mulberry Bend Park, N.Y.C. Perhaps worth mentioning that it is also an exceptionally obscure part of the New York cityscape. Nathan Halper, lifelong New Yorker and avid Wakean, lived within its vicinity and still had no idea. Joyce, who never visited America, got it from the “New York City” entry in the 11th Encyclopedia Britannica. It is nowhere near “Coney” Island, which just happened to be mentioned on the encyclopedia’s previous page. 553.8: “blighty:” Cockney slang for England 553.8: “blighty acre:” Bloody Acre, a.k.a. Field of Blood: in Jerusalem, a cemetery for foreigners, by tradition on a spot purchased with Judas’ “blood money.” (In one version, Judas’ body, hanged or not, “burst open” and drenched the site in blood.) Note proximity to the “bludded” “agore” of the “pessovered” (.7-8) Passover. 553.9: “lawn:” fine linen 553.9. “Guerdon City:” Garden City, on Long Island. The name conveys the civic ideal of Rus in Urbe. 553.11-2: “summiramies:” Sumerians. (Sumeria had the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, qualifying it for this catalogue of the seven wonders.) 553.12-3: “Pardonell of Maynooth:” Maynooth is, arguably, the spiritual center of Irish Catholicism, the origin of the “Maynooth Catechism” taught to all candidates for confirmation. There is no “Cardinal of Maynooth,” but Maynooth bishops and archbishops have sometimes become cardinals. Joyce believed that the Irish clergy, including cardinals, had betrayed (“Pardonell”) Parnell. Pardoning sinners is, of course, part of an ecclesiast’s job. 553.13: “Nielsen, rare admirable:” Nelson’s Pillar, one of the “D[ublin] statues from Parnell Square to College Green” noted by McHugh; Nelson was a Rear Admiral before eventually being promoted. 553.14: “Porteleau:” water-carrier; Joyce was born in the sign of Aquarius. (In “Ithaca,” Bloom is a “watercarrier.” Since, astrologically, he is actually a Taurus, this probably signals a semi-secret link to his creator.) 553.18: “lisbing lass:” old proverb: “A lisping lass is good to kiss.” Lesbos or Lesbian are definite possibilities as well. 553.19-20: “hops…barlow…bowery:” hops and barley are two ingredients essential for beer, here being brewed in a “bowery”/brewery 553.20: “rigs of barlow:” barley ricks 553.21: “pampos animos:” Argentina’s pampas are cattle – animal - country. 553.21-2: “pons for aguaducks:” bridges for aqueducts; ponds for ducks; Lily Pons, contemporary operatic star 553.22: “feyrieglenn:” fairy glen 553.22: “hallaw vall:” Valhalla 553.23-4: “lickybudmonth and gleanermonth:” on French Republican Calendar, Germinal and Brumaire, months of budding and gleaning, respectively 553.25: “alpine:” ALP (Maybe obvious) 553.25-8: “I brewed…(speakeasy!)…pussyfoot:” See McHugh. “Pussyfoot Johnson” (so named because of his stealthy tactics) was a famous prohibitionist of the time, responsible for shutting down many speakeasies. He was known in Britain as well as the USA. 553.26-7: “granvilled brandold Dublin lindub:” compare 7.12: “A glass of Danu U’Dunnell’s foamous olde Dobbelin ayle.” Here, brand-old instead of brand-new. (As McHugh records, “lindub” is a version of Gaelic for porter or stout.) “Granvilled” presumably includes “grain.” 553.26: “wigwarming:” Earwig/Earwicker-warming; wigwam-warming. Compare 207.29-33, where ALP is an “angin mother of injons,” this time housed in an “igloo.” 553.27: “lindub:’ Lipton’s tea, being “brewed” (.25) - although as “frothy freshener” (same line) it could be both tea – “the cup that cheers but not inebriates” - and beer, with its froth. 553.29-30: “stony battered waggonways:” commencing a list of his municipal street-building and its traffic (553.29-554.9), wagon-ways, paved with stones, for the passage of (“trotters” (.29)) the draught horses drawing the wagons 553.31: “boullowards:” boustrophedonically – alternately from right to left and left to right. Compare 18.32. In “Ithaca,” Bloom’s collection of correspondence from Martha Clifford is boustrophedonic. Here, logically enough, it is “nordsoud,” also “eastmoreland and westlandmore” – as in for instance, even though its boulevards are called avenues, the Manhattan grid (compare 549.15 and note), with the traffic in streets and, sometimes, avenues alternating directions. 553.31-2: “(hearsemen, opslo!):” Horsemen, hey-day! (Also, “Up slow!” – the horsemen should slow up so that the “nuptiallers” can get starting.) “Horsemen” turned to ”hearsemen” is an instantaneous sic transit gloria mundi. 553.32: “nuptiallers, get storting!:” newlyweds, get starting! (Having sex!) Equally-oppositely counterpointed with “hearsemen” 553.33: “expect till:” apparently no genetic support, but “except till,” with “till” meaning “until,” would seem to make more sense 553.34: “hankinhunkn:” perhaps an allusion to Hocken and Hunken, a 1913 novel by Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch 553.35: “claudesdales:” perhaps Claude Duval, gentleman highwayman who rode a horse; compare 457.11, and see next. 553.35: “arabinstreeds:” an Arab horse (steed) was proverbial for excellence of breed; equal-oppositely, a street arab – an arab-in-streets - was a (pedestrian) beggar. Compare 98.13. Horsewise, Arabs contrast with low-class (“claudesdales”) Clydesdales, as McHugh says a “breed of heavy draught horse.” 553.36-554.1: “madridden mustangs, buckarestive bronchos:” mustangs ridden like mad (that is, to the extreme limit), bucking broncos restive in the manner of Bucephalus, the spirited horse that the young Alexander was able to tame 554.3: “my priccoping gents:” using the spurs to “prick” the horse to speed up. Perhaps an allusion to the first line of Spencer’s The Faerie Queene: “A gentle knight was pricking on the plain.” 554.3: “priccoping gents, aroger, aroger:” compare “Circe:” “the gentleman goes a gallop a gallop a gallop a gallop;” also “Wandering Rocks: “outriders leaping, leaping in their, in their saddles.” Slangily, “prick” = penis, “roger” = fuck. 554.4: “softsidesaddled:” “damsells” riding sidesaddle, on saddles made soft with saddle soap 554.4: “a perch:” 1. perched up (on the carriage); 2. a perch, a distance of about 5 ½ yards 554.6: “skewbald:” Skewball: famous 18th century racing horse, subject of ballads 554.7: “pleashadure:” plusieurs pleasures 554.8: “domino:” usually, a gown worn at a masked ball, or the mask itself. Compare note to .9. 554.8: “switcheries:” witcheries 554.9: “Down with them!:” the moment of unmasking: dropping the domino or vizard. Also (see McHugh) removing a woman’s drawers, here by command performance 554.10: “Mattahah! Marahah! Luahah! Joahanahanahana!:” presumably, the sound of her laughter (.8). 554.10: “Joahanahanahana:” Hannahannas: Hittite mother of the gods. Also, as the last word of the sequence beginning at 403.1 with the arrival of the four inquisitors and their ass, one final, lingering bray. The sound will wake up the sleeper at the beginning of III.4.
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10/27/2021 09:28:33 pm
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