chapter-3-section-3.html
3.1: “riverrun:” 1. “rive:” English for “to split.” 2. river: French for “to join.” FW is a book of “Doublends Jined” (20.16). (Some other candidates: French reverrons (we’ll see, or meet, again); French rêvrons (we will dream); German erinnerung (memory: echoing “mememormee” (628.14)); “Reverend,” in some versions the beginning of the FW letter. As an Anglican dean, Jonathan Swift would have been addressed as "Reverend," or some version.) Also, “river run:” a pre-FW term meaning either the natural course of a river or of a voyage taken on it. Also, spawning salmon are typically said to be “running” upriver, and in some places this is called a “run” named after the river in question, for instance the “Columbia River Run.” Also, as Guy Davenport notes in Every Force Evolves a Form, French riverain, “riverside,” is “a quotation from Napoleon’s will,” “asking that he be buried near the banks of the Seine, as he is, in the Invalides church.” Much of the last page of FW, leading to this first word, is based on the finale of A Royal Divorce: the dying Josephine, in France, telepathically addressing the simultaneously dying Napoleon, on St. Helena. (Dramatic license: their deaths were years apart.) A Royal Divorce was a hugely popular play in the Dublin of Joyce’s time and later; see notes to the report of its performance near the beginning of I.2. 3.2: “us:” continues first-person plural narrator (“we,” “us” (628.12, 13)) of last page 3.2: “commodius:” Gibbon (and others) date the beginning of Rome’s decline and fall (see “The fall” at .15) from the reign of Commodus. Gibbon: “The act of Marcus Aurelius, in handing over the civilized world to the mercy of the young savage whom he believed to be his son, resulted in more misery than any other crime recorded in human annals.” (Note: according to McHugh, but not the “Selected Variants” of the Oxford FW, the word should be “commodious,” which would underscore Commodus’s odiousness. "Commodious" also occurs in Dickens' Our Mutual Friend, which Joyce read; there as perhaps here as well, it results from a mistaken reading of the text. Your annotator, making no claims to competence in genetic studies, will occasionally note such alternatives when they seem most likely to be pertinent.) 3.2: “vicus:” the first sentence of Saint Patrick’s Confessio says that his father’s father lived at “uico [vico] bannauem taburniae.” “Vico” is the dative of vicus. Its exact meaning for Patrick – area of a city, street, town, estate, country seat (English “vicus” according to the OED, favors the first) - has been much discussed and disputed. The word derives from the Greek οίκος, which, whether as family, family descent, family property, or family house, was the basic unit of Greek society. 3.2-3: “recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs:” I agree with E. L. Epstein, in A Guide Through Finnegans Wake (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2009, p. 26, hereafter “Epstein”), that this marks the point that the Liffey tide, flowing out to sea at the end of FW, changes direction – starts to recircle, clockwise and westward. The time, on the first page as on the last, is approximately 6:00 a.m. About twelve hours later, at the dusk of I.8, it will be heading out to sea. At 261.5, at a point sometime between 8:00 and 9:00 p.m., “we [are] haply return[ing]” upstream, “Hencetaking tides.” At 415.18, after midnight, it is “a high old tide.” Later, on page 426, at some time between midnight and 1:00 a.m., the tide is turning: a “tide shackled” barrel floating on the Liffey, “necklassoed,” topples and swirls around, losing its balance, and rolls “buoyantly backwards” (426.20, .27, .28, .34). (Joyce described the action of III.1-3 as "a barrel rolling down the river Liffey.") At 457.17-26, some time between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m., it is “tiding down.” On the last two pages, it is approaching the “prongs” (628.5) of the two breakwaters extending into Dublin’s harbor, with the “bitter” taste of Irish sea in its mouth (627.35). The Liffey is ALP, who in this passage informs us that her destination is the Old Lord” of the (“promnentory”) promontory, (623.4, .6), that is, “Howth Castle and Environs.” 3.4-14: “Sir Tristram…aquaface:” annotator’s editorial: this seven-stage sequence, summing up the dreamer’s life, may relate to the tradition, mentioned in Ulysses (Bloom in “Hades:” “See your whole life in a flash”) that someone drowning has his past life flash through his mind. On FW’s last page we were heading out to sea and frightened at the prospect (628.5: “Save me from those therrble prongs!”). Since this page is a continuation of that one, the past is prologue: the seven-stage sequence is both compressed memory and compressed prophecy of FW. The seven stages are definitely repeated at 104.10-14 and, I believe, also at 126.16-24, 589.20-590.3, and to some extent, at 175.7-28. According to the famous “All the world’s a stage” speech in As You Like It, a man’s life has seven stages. 3.4: “Sir Tristram:” 1. Sir Thomas Lipton, tea magnate and famous sailor, was sometimes called “Sir T.” or “Sir Tea” by the press. The FW letter ends with a tea stain, and the book’s last word, “the,” is French for tea, minus the accent. 2. Large statement: what Mozart’s Don Giovanni is to Ulysses, Wagner’s Tristan and Iseult is to FW. The Wagner opera's much-discussed opening is the “Tristan chord,” in Joyce’s time and ours often cited (and sometimes disputed) as bordering on atonality. 3:4 "violer d'amores:" by way of (see McHugh) viola d'amore. Tristram is a renowned harpist whose music charms all who hear it. Also, see 3.6, first entry: "Sir Tristram"'s first name was Amory. As the man who stole Iseult away from her husband King Mark, Tristram/Tristan was a lover and a violator of filial trust. A viola d'amore has seven strings, and FW’s male principal HCE is routinely identified with seven, especially with the seven articles of clothing he wears. 3.4: “the short sea:” OED: a “short sea” is choppy, with short waves. “Short-sea” refers to short sea crossings. “Short-sea traders” cover short distances, for instance across the English Channel. 3.6: “his penisolate war: see McHugh. As one of Strongbow’s company, Sir Amory Tristram won the Battle of the Bridge of Ivora, on the Howth peninsula, in 1177. Also, the Battle of Évora, in 1808, in the Peninsular War 3.6: “penisolate:” 1. penis. 2. Pen, which he is wielding (“wield the pen” is a common expression), and which is mightier than the sword. 3. “Penicillate:” meaning tufted like a brush – instrument for another kind of artist. 3.7: “topsawyer’s:” a topsawyer is the master or leader of any profession. 3.8: “laurens:” Amory Tristram changed the family name to Saint Lawrence. Perhaps also reference to Saint Laurence O’Toole (5.3), Archbishop of Dublin in 1077 3.9-10: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf thuartpeatrick:” 1. As Adaline Glasheen showed, 3.1-14 sounds all the names of Joyce’s immediate family, as well as grandson Stephen (“past Eve and” (3.1)), named for Joyce’s self-portrait Stephen Dedalus. James is “Jhem” (.13), Giorgio is “gorgios” (.8), Lucia is in “bellowsed,” Nora is in “nor a voice.” “Afire” may be a tribute to the “auburnt streams” (139.23-4) of Nora’s hair. 2. “Avoice from afire” is a voice from afar – specifically, coming as a telegraph signal over the wireless, for instance from ship-to-shore “marconimasts” (407.20). This commences a major FW motif: Tristan and Iseult communicating by wireless, she ("mishe mishe") with the Morse code for “i,” he ("tauftauf") with a doubling of the one-dash Morse code for “t.” (Note that "mishe mishe," two dots, has two "i"s, that "tauftauf" has two "t"s. "These signals often duplicate metrical pyrrhics (two unaccented syllables, as signaled by the two dots above the two "i"s) and spondees (two accented syllables, as signaled by the two dashes that cross the verticals of the "t"s). 3. As the third clause of the seven-clause sequence of 3.3-14, this corresponds to the third major set piece of FW I.1, the prankquean episode of 21.5-23.15, in which the female visitor repeatedly lights a fire. Your annotator thinks that the first two clauses correspond as well, respectively to the Waterloo “museyroom” episode of 8.9-10.23 and to the “Mutt” and “Jute” exchange of 15.24-18.16. 4. Your annotator also thinks – a disputable, and disputed, reading – that FW includes a literal voice from a fire, that the FW dreamer’s room has a fireplace from which the dreamer hears or imagines he hears the voice of his daughter, coming down the flue from her own fireplace in her bedroom, directly upstairs. In this reading, “tauftauf” would signal the turf of a peat fire, “a spurtfire turf a’kind o’kindling when oft as the souffsouff blows her peaties up” (117.17-8). A (“bellowsed”) bellows is used to fan a fire. 3.13-4: “rory end:” red end; orient: red is one end of the rainbow’s spectrum, here touching down in the east. 3.15-7: “(babab…thurnuk!):” as McHugh documents, this first of FW’s ten thunderwords includes “thunder” in several different languages. According to Vico, language began when humans, scared by the sound of thunder, tried to imitate it with speech. (Joyce was scared of thunder.) Also, the word “barbarian” supposedly originated as a Greek imitation of the language of non-Greek-speaking outsiders. 4.2: “Brékkek Krékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax!:” as McHugh notes, this is sound of frogs croaking, from Aristophanes’ The Frogs. In Ireland, frogs mate – and therefore croak – in late winter and early spring. 4.8: “a toll, a toll:” given context (war, killing everywhere) a bell tolling for the dead; goes with “apeal” of .7 4.7: “Sanglorians:” aside from French for Without glory (here, presumably in war); sanglot, sob. (Goes with “larms” – alarms, but also larmes, tears – on same line.) Also, a deliberately off-key note sounded by a bugler playing a funeral taps; an example was at the funeral of John F. Kennedy. 4.9-10: “What bidimetoloves sinduced by what tegotetabsolvers:” Joyce’s work, including FW, is full of suspicions of the lecherous intentions of Catholic priests, particularly in the confession box - here counterpointed with Herrick’s poetic pledge to convert to Protestantism for love (Herrick was a Cavalier). The gist of this section is that untoward romantic alliances – chance cuddlings – often happen during wartime. 4.10: “their’s hayair…strawng:” hay foot, straw foot: marching orders given to bumpkinish soldiers; occurs (jokily) in Portrait, chapter one. Other than that the Empire in question was a music hall, no one seems to know the point of the song line, frequent in FW, “There’s hair, like wire, coming out of the Empire.” Here it is assimilated into the story of Jacob’s pretending to be Esau, the “hairy man.” See next entry. 4.11: “voice of false jiccup:” Isaac: “The voice is the voice of Jacob.” “Jacob” is a cognate of “James.” Like Jacob, James Joyce was the second-born male of the Joyce family, but the firstborn John died in infancy, bestowing primogeniture privileges on James. Implications will recur throughout FW’s ongoing Jacob-and-Esau thread. 4.11-2: “met the duskt the father of fornicationists:” American expression for having died in combat or some other conflict: he bit the dust. Perhaps pertinent that Odysseus, who is certainly a fornicator, meets his father in a public road covering his head with dust. 4.14: “fanespanned:” finespun – probably describing appearance of Milky Way and constellations. A “fane” is a temple. 4.14: “soft advertisement:” according to Google Books, the first occurrence of “soft sell,” meaning gently suggestive advertising, was in 1923. Long shot: from 1925 to 1934 the ("eyeful") Eiffel Tower (.36) was a brightly-lit advertisement for Citroen. (It had displayed skysigns (.14) advertising other products before; OED’s first entry for “skysign” in this sense is 1887.) Several of Joyce’s residences in the FW days were in the vicinity of the Eiffel Tower. 4.16: “none so soon:” none too soon 4.19-20: “rushlit:” a rushlight is proverbial for being faint and inconspicuous; can also suggest poverty. 4.21-4: “he sternely struxk his tete in a tub for to wasch the future of his fates but ere he swiftly stook it out again…the very water was eviparated and all the guenneses had met their exodus…:” Joseph Addison’s The Spectator, number 94, refers to a story from a 1708 volume entitled Turkish Tales about a sultan who plunges his head in a tub of water and pulls it out to find himself in a strange land where he is forced to earn his living and start a new life. A part of the story appears in Dickens’ Hard Times, Book II, chapter 1. 4.24: “the guenneses had met their exodus:” made their exodus: the geese had flown. Probably an allusion to Ireland’s Wild Geese, exiles who served in foreign armies 4.27: “Thorp:” ME for agricultural village 4.28: “Annie:” and he 4.30: “Oftwhile balbulous:” Oft/often while drinking or (here) having drunk (bibulous); the Finnegan of the song is often drunk. 4.30: “mithre ahead:” the contraption that makes for the head of a hod resembles a carpenter’s mitre. 4.31: “ivoroiled overalls:” rainproof overwear is/was sometimes called “oilskin”(s); overalls would signify an outdoor manual laborer. 4.35: “waalworth:” Sir William Walworth: Lord Mayor of London, who killed Watt Tyler. Listed by Adaline Glasheen in her Third Census of Finnegans Wake (University of California Press, 1977, p. 301 – hereafter “Glasheen”). As mayor, he erected a (“entowerly” (.36)) tower on the banks of the Thames. In a passage describing HCE at his most eminent, it may be pertinent that Dick Whittington’s highest aspiration, and achievement, was to become thrice Lord Mayor of London. 4.36: "eyeful:" eye-full: a complete view - as in, "Get an eye-full of that." 5.1: “celescalating:” New York’s Woolworth Building included escalators (a relatively new invention) as well as elevators. 5.2: “bush abob off its baubletop:” in Ibsen’s The Master Builder, the architect Halvard Solness, who has a fear of heights, falls to his death while trying to place a ceremonial wreath on top of the tower of his latest building. (Perhaps changed to a bush because, as McHugh notes, a bush signified a pub; HCE is a publican.) 5.3-4: “larrons o’toolers clittering up and tombles a’buckets clottering down:” Laurence O’Toole and Thomas à Becket were both assaulted before the main altar of Canterbury Cathedral; O’Toole got back up and survived; Becket was mortally wounded and remained fallen. (Much of the language describing the structure here seems apt for a cathedral.) 5.4: “bare arms:” in other words, roll up his sleeves to get to work 5.6: “Riesengeborg:” rising gorge – i.e. about to throw up – in this case from all the boozing 5.6-8: “His crest…second:” compare 546.4-11. In his 1986 book Joyce and Heraldry, Michael O’Shea reported that he could not locate an Earwicker coat of arms; as of 2019 Google had two sites purporting (these sites are not always trustworthy) to show one: aside from being crowned with a horned (bull’s, not goat’s) head, it seems to have little in common with the FW descriptions. 5.7: “poursuivant:” the he-goat is pursuing the (female) “ancillars.” 5.7: “horrid:” in original sense of bristly, shaggy 5.8: “helio:” presumably an heraldic image of the rising sun – a feature of some coats of arms 5.8: “of the second:” heraldic term; refers to the second “tincture” (color) to have been specified – in this case, “argent.” 5.9: “Hootch:” aitch, i.e. H. As in a child’s lesson: A is for apple, B is for ball…H for husbandman 5.13: “agentlike:” anciently 5.13: “thundersday:” according to Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (from now on designated as “Brewer”), Thursday was sometimes called Thundersday. 5.14: “Our cubehouse still rocks:” Kaaba and Black Stone; compare .16. 5.16: “muzzlenimiissilehims:” Muslim muezzins, chanting (Muslim) hymns; “ii” is always or almost always a token of Issy, here perhaps as the two girls in the park, blackening HCE’s name with their account of his wrongdoing. 5.23: “bedoueen:” Bedouin 5.23-6: “Cropherb…Heed!:” Muhammed is said to have ridden various animals; one was a talking donkey – a male – descended from a line used by prophets, going back to the one Jesus rode into Jerusalem. 5.23-4: “crunchbracken:” compare “crackling canebrake” of “Circe:” the crackly sound made by walking through bracken, also the eating sound made by donkey, "no friend of carrots" (476.15) 5.26: “Heed! Heed!:” Here! Here! 5.26: “may half been a missfired brick:” Mrs. Maybrick, husband-poisoner mentioned in “Penelope.” "Missfired" may mean 1. imperfectly made in the fire of the kiln, causing the brick structure to crumble or collapse, leading to his fall. 2. a brick thrown by someone, which missed. 3. a brick thrown by a "miss." 5.31: “fargobawlers:” “Faugh a ballagh!” In “Nausicaa,” Bloom’s version of the warning sounds made by ocean liners. Gaelic for “Clear the Way;” was battle cry of the Royal Irish Fusiliers. 5.33: “circuses:” given context, perhaps traffic circles (roundabouts) 5.33: “wardsmoats:” wordsmiths 5.33: “basilikerks:” given context, perhaps overtone of bicycles 5.34: “peeler:” British policeman 6.1: “blightblack workingstacks:” smokestacks blackened and blighted with soot 6.5: “thurum:” perhaps “thrumming” sound of city, machinery 6.7: “under his bridge:” proverbial locale for paupers 6.10: “the latter:” that is, from the wall 6.11: “when a man merries his lute is all long:” perhaps: to make merry, especially for romantic purposes, especially especially if marriage is desired, a man should bring his lute along. (As the McHugh citation shows, the consequences of success can be dispiriting.) 6.14: “a trying thirstay mourning:” a dry and thirsty morning: both “dry” and “thirsty” mean in want of alcohol. 6.14: “thirstay:” for a death on Thursday, the burial would probably occur on a Monday. Standard interval was three days – also the usual time for an Irish wake - but there were no funerals on Sundays. (Note: if, as I will be proposing throughout, the default FW date is Monday, March 21 (1938), Thursday would be March 17 – Saint Patrick’s Day, traditionally a time for the kind of alcoholic overindulgence, for instance by "all the hoolivans of the nation" (.15), which brought about Tim Finnegan’s fall, hence his wake.) 6.15: “all the hoolivans of the nation:” Brewer: “The original Hooligans were a spirited Irish family of that name…in Southwark toward the end of the 19th century.” 6.16: “duodisimally:” as McHugh notes, duodecimally – almost certainly because the pub’s customers are twelve in number 6.17: “citherers:” zithers? 6.18: “gianed:” Gog and Magog (.19) were giants. 6.19: “the round of them agrog:” grog – liquor – was being passed around 6.22: “stiff:” dead; drunk; dead drunk 623: “dacent:” “decent” with a conspicuously Irish accent 6.24: “his pillowscone:” legend that the stone of Scone was the “pillow” on which Jacob rested his head when he had his vision of angels 6.24: “tap up his bier:” as in, to tap a keg of beer 6.25: “deepbrow:” Keats, “On First Looking Into Chapman’s Homer:” “deep-brow’d Homer.” Also, deep-down: this is the bass section; Adeste Fidelis (.25-6) is in a higher register. 6.26: ”a bockalips…guenesis:” Revelations (Apocalypse) and Genesis are at opposite ends of the Bible. 6.28: “Tee the tootal:” teetotal 6.28: “twoddle of the fuddled:” waddle of the befuddled (with drink) 6.31: “on the flounder of his bulk:” on the flat of his back (McHugh) - with an assist from “flat as a flounder” 6.31: “babeling:” babbling babe 6.32: “see peegee ought he ought, platterplate:” see pg. – page – eighty-eight, on the plate. The photographic plate following pg. 88 of A. Moret’s Rois et Dieux D’Egypt (Paris, 1911) depicts Osiris on his back, with an upright erection, approximating the horizontal version of HCE’s E siglum. I owe this datum to Mark L. Troy. 6.33: "Hum!:" here as elsewhere, it is probably pertinent that "Hum" is Mesopotamian for "I, me." (Source: W. H. Downing, Digger Dialects, edited by J.M. Arthur & W.S.Ramson, New York: Oxford University, 1990, 245, hereafter Digger Dialects) 7.1: “swimswamswum:” singsangsung – probably originating with “singsong” 7.2: “delldale dalppling:” perhaps daedal plus dappled 7.3: “(O carina! O carina!):” four “tricky trochees” (.3) 7.4: “issavan essavans:” Brendan O Hehir reads this as Gaelic for “Vanessa is his wife.” Swift was rumored to have secretly married Esther Johnson (Stella) but not Esther Vanhomrigh (Vanessa). 7.4: “patterjackmartins:” compare 86.2: “padderjagmartin.” Comparing the two, the sense seems to something like “chatter,” bordering on “blarney.” 7.4: “all them ins and ouses:” combination of “all them” and the dropped h of “houses” indicates a lower-class speaker. 7.5: “tum:” given context of slapdash musical performance, perhaps as in “tum-tee-tum-tum-tum.” 7.7: “pool the begg:” pull the bell, presumably to summon servant or waiter to start the meal. Servants not in the vicinity were signaled with bell-pulls. 7.7-8: “pass the kish for crawsake:” pass the fish for Christ’s sake. (Servants or no servants, this is not the language of refined table manners.) Many dinners began with fish. Probably pertinent that a fish is a symbol of Christ. “Craw:” slang for stomach 7.10: “baken:” Dounia Bunis Christiani (Scandinavian Elements of Finnegans Wake, Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1965, p. 90, hereafter “Christiani”) suggests Danish bakken, hill 7.16: “almost rubicund:” as a color, salmon is pinkish – almost red. 7.17: “he is smolten in our mist:” he is smitten in our midst. (Sounds biblical; isn’t.) 7.17-8: “woebecanned and packt away:” what the British call “tinned” food, American call “canned.” See 170.27: Shem’s preference for “salmon tinned.” 7.20: “Yet may we not see still:” no question mark, but still: a rhetorical question 7.20: “brontoichthyan:” see McHugh. In Joyce’s time and mine, Brontosaurus (thunder-lizard), today renamed Apatosaurus, had been, according to the textbooks, the largest or almost-largest of the dinosaurs – so large that (like, at times, the FW giant), because of the time required for nerve-system signals to cover the distance, it required two brains, one at the head and other at the tail. May set up later conceit that HCE’s sons come from his two focal points, above and below the waist. Contemporary physiology had shown that the body’s two great bundlings of nerves were at the head and the genitals. 7.22: “lean:” lien 7.23: “flags or flitters:” rags or tatters 7.24: “sundyechosies:” Sunday clothes. Cited here as opposite extreme from “reekierags,” reeking rags 7.28-9: “Seeple Isout:” Chapelizod, site of FW, location of the Mullingar House. Joyce's father had once worked in the distillery situated in Chapelizod and frequented the Mullingar House. In 1927, Joyce sent interviewers to his father in Dublin to collect memories of both. In 1933 Joyce's artist friend Frank Budgen visited Chapelizod, interviewed the proprietor of the Mullingar House, and made a picture, sent to Joyce, called The Liffey at Chapelizod, supposed to give "a sort of key to the FW associations." (The picture is now in the collection of the James Joyce Center in Zurich.) The following, from Thom’s Directory, summarizes Chapelizod as of 1910, six years after Joyce left for Europe and one year after his last visit. CHAPELIZOD, a village partly in Palmerstown parish, Uppercross barony, but chiefly in the parish of the same name, Castlerock barony, Dublin county, three miles W. from the General Post Office, Dublin, comprising an area of 53 acres. Population, 1280, inhabiting 255 houses. It is partly situate on the river Liffey, on the high road to Galway, and near to the Great Southern and Western line of Railway. It is said to derive its name from la belle Izod, daughter of King Aengus. King William III spent several days in it; and prior to the erection of the Viceregal Lodge, it was the country residence of the Viceroy. Its buildings are, a Church of Ireland Church, with an ivied tower, a Convent of Mount Sackville, where over 60 boarders and over 100 day pupils attend, a Roman Catholic Church, a Dispensary, a National School, and Metropolitan Police Station, also Postal and Telegraph Office. Electric tramway starts from Conyngham-road. Following, with original capitalization and punctuation, are some of the listed names and places which may be pertinent to FW. Places: NORTH SIDE CHAPELIZOD CHURCH OF IRELAND, Rev. Amylrald Dancer Purefoy, M.A. Incumbent Chapelizod National School – Mr. James Reidy, Master Chapelizod Parochial Male and Female Schools – Mrs. S. O’Donovan, Mistress CHAPELIZOD R.C. CHURCH – Rev. J.P McSwiggan, P.P.; Rev. E. O’Reilly, c.o.; Rev. J. Cahill, c.o. The Convent (Order of St. Joseph), Mount Sackville Chapelizod Parochial Male and Female Schools – Mrs. S. O’Donovan, Mistress The Convent (Order of St. Joseph), Mount Sackville Drummond Institute for Orphan Daughters of Soldiers, Mulberry hill – Miss Rouselle, matron Metropolitan Police Station – Robert Bell, sergeant Mount Sackville Convent – Rev. Mother Gabriel, superioress Mullingar Hotel – Keys, Mrs. Phoenix Park Distillery – The Distiller’s Co [illegible], whiskey distillers – G. Robinson, manager St. Joseph’s convent, Mount Sackville SUB-POST OFFICE—Miss Margt. Fitzpatrick, sub-postmistress SOUTH SIDE A WALL LETTER-BOX at Palmerston Mills and at Boundary villa Dispensary for Palmerston District – Dr. G. McMahon, medical officer Royal Irish Constabulary Station -- P. Donovan, sergt. In charge Persons: NORTH SIDE Broadbent, Mrs. Robt. Glenthorn Caulfield, L, family grocer, purveyor &c. Caulfield, Mr. I, The Tap Davis, Mr. sergeant D.M.P. Duffy, Mr. A. Quarryfield house Gillman, Wm. G., tavern, Park lane Halpin, Thos., vintner Hands, Mrs. C., Martin’s-row M’Whirter, J. W. tailor, Garden lodge Saunders, Miss Mary, New Holland iron mills Smyth, Mr. P. D.M.P. SOUTH SIDE Anderson, J. relieving officer, Mountain view Finnegan, Mrs. Teresa, prov. dealer, Bridge house Ging, C., Grocer, &., Bridge Inn Healy, Timothy M. esq. K.C., M.P., Glenaulin Maycock, Elizabeth, Sabine-terrace Walker, Miss P., vintner, Kildare Tavern Walters, M., L.B.C.P. and S. I. medical officer Some comments, corresponding to the order of appearances just given: The “ivied tower” of the Anglican Saint Laurence’s Church is at least twice noted in FW: “yon creepered tower of a church of Ereland” (264.31; ivy is a “creeper” plant), and “sainted lawrels evremberried” (264.26; ivy has berries). Police station (556.23-6), Great Southern and Western train line (604.12), and “Electric tramway” (81.7) also put in appearances, especially the last one: at 378.9-10 the “-traumconductor”’s tram is heard shooting out lightning bolts from its overhead wire. Clearly, Joyce’s knowledge of Chapelizod was acute. Again, it was reinforced by having his father interviewed for memories of his Chapelizod days and by having Frank Budgen do a black-and-white picture of the Mullingar House and surroundings. It would seem that he also consulted Thom’s. As noted elsewhere, the Mullingar Hotel’s “Mrs. Keys” may contribute to “The keys to” of 628.15. Although the Phoenix Park Distillery is described as “disused” in “A Painful Case,” as of 1910 it was still in operation. (FW seems to confirm: “Tam Fanagan’s weak yat is still’s going strang” (276.21-2.)) Thom’s has its valuation as 400 pounds. For “sub-postmistress,” compare “Miss Enders, poachmistress and gay receiver” (412.23-4). As Glasheen notes, FW’s letter’s sender is sometimes a Miss Enders. Mrs. Broadbent is presumably the widow of the Robert Broadbent, who died in 1905, remembered by Joyce’s father from his days of carousing in Chapelizod’s Mullingar House. “Broadbent” - in Ireland, an uncommon name - appears in the John Joyce interview. An 1883 edition of Tom’s includes four Broadbents, one of them a “hotel keeper.” The two Caulfields are presumably co-proprietors of “The Tap.” I can’t find any other notice of this establishment, but the name suggests a pub, and it would be in keeping for the time if it were also a “grocer, purveyor &c.” (See note to 78.12-3.) Note C. Ging, “Grocer, &c. of the “Bridge Inn,” where the Mr. Duffy of “A Painful Case” eats and drinks. Along that line, of course, one notices “Mr. A. Duffy” of “Quarryfield house,” although Joyce’s Mr. Duffy, resident of Chapelizod, is named James. “Hands, Mrs. C:” “Nancy Hands” (244.20) was the proprietress of the Hole in the Wall Pub, Phoenix Park. She was enough of a local celebrity for the 1859 song “The Irish Sporting Car” to include her in a run-through of Dublin-area landmarks. One wonders if this Mrs. Hands was related by way of marriage. The Chapelizod of FW definitely includes a tailor’s shop. Mr. J.W. M’Whirter fills the bill. “Mrs. Teresa Finnegan” of “Bridge house:” is her “Bridge house” affiliated with the Bridge Inn? It all seems too perfect. “Mrs. Finnegan” is a character in the song “Finnegan’s Wake.” On the other hand, FW occurrences of Teresa/Theresa aren’t particularly suggestive. As Glasheen notes, Tim Healy, Parnell’s betrayer, was Joyce’s version of Judas. His Chapelizod residence, in FW named “Healiopolis” (.24.18) and “Heliotropolis” (594.8), is valued at 80 pounds, not quite the highest rate among Chapelizod’s private residences. Elizabeth Maycock: FW has “Lissy Mycock” (538.20). Maybe a coincidence “Walker, Miss P. vintner, Kildare Tavern:” Louis O. Mink’s A Finnegans Wake Gazeteer has all FW “tavern”s as referring to the Mullingar House. Miss Walker’s establishment may complicate the issue. And what, come to that, of Wm. G. Gillman’s “tavern?” In any case, there seem to be six drinking establishments and one distillery, for a population of 1208. (In Sheridan Le Fanu’s “The Sexton’s Adventure,” Chapelizod has a “half dozen ‘publics.’”) FW is a boozy book. That Chapelizod was a venue for Dublin bonafides (see, e.g., 178.18) may have something to do with it. 7.29: “The cranic head on him, caster of his reasons:” probably by analogy to “caster of spells,” the head being the center of reason; see note to .20, above. 7.30: “verdigrass:” green grass: seen “swarded” in mist, an early instance of FW’s glaucoma theme, which typically begins with greensightedness. As verdigris, a sign that some structure or monument – the Statue of Liberty is an example – has been around for a while. 7.31: “fellonem:” felon. (One thing clear about the male protagonist is that he is guilty of something.) 7.32: “sisterin shawl:” in “Cyclops,” “shawls” are prostitutes. 7.34 “bagsides:” backside. (Maybe obvious) 7.34-5: “Ill Sixty, ollollowed ill…bom, tarabom, tarabom:” during WW I, Hill Sixty was mined, undermined, tunneled, hollowed out, and eventually blown up; by the time Joyce was writing these lines it was a crater. Because the Connaught Rangers played a major role in the action and suffered heavy casualties, a mound in Croke Park was, ironically, given the name. In some accounts "Hill Sixty" signifies the Croke Park Massacre of Bloody Sunday, November 21, 1920, when British troops opened fire on civilian spectators at a football match. Compare the next two entries. 7.34-5: “tarabom, tarabom:” “Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay:” musical hall song; popular in WW I. Had jingoistic associations, here ironic. Probable overtone of "bomb" 7.36: “proudseye view:” bird’s eye view. Fits the context: we are here getting a long-distance prospect from the other side of the region of the clouds. The Croke Park Massacre was initiated when an airplane flew over the statdium and gave the signal to open fire. 8.1: “Wallinstone:” incorporates Albrecht von Wallenstein, Austrian general in the Thirty Years War; there is a collection of portraits and memorabilia called “the Wallenstein Museum.” Otherwise, a combination of Wellington Monument in Dublin, Wellington Museum in London, and Wellington Museum in Waterloo, originally named Waterloo Museum. Most of the details to follow come from the last of these. To further complicate, there was once a Waterloo Museum in the Hyde Park area of London. Also, see note to 3.1. 8.3: “quitewhite villagettes:” Plancemont and Mont Saint Jean were the two villages (aside from Waterloo itself) involved in the battle. “-Ettes,” either/both feminizing/diminishing them, brings in the jinnies. 8.3-4: “hear…gigglesomes minxt:” hearing them, the minxes, urinating (from Latin mingō) – a signature feature of the sin in the park. In general, the Waterloo sequence is, even for FW, heavy on infantile bathroom humor. “Loo” is an English idiom for toilet, and the most famous word to come out of the battle was Cambronne’s “Merde.” 8.5-6: “Welsh and the Paddy Patkinses:” Wellington’s army included both Welsh and Irish units. 8.6: “Paddy Patkinses:” P.P.: parish priest – presumably why they’re allowed in free 8.6-7: “Redismembers invalids of old guard:” dismembered (and re-dismembered) veterans of Waterloo – that is, those “mutilées par la guerre” – the last time I remember, still a Paris Metro inscription enjoining special treatment to French veterans wounded in battle. Les Invalides gets its name from its origin as a hospital for wounded soldiers, for instance Napoleon’s Old Guard. 8.8: “janitrix:” that is, portress. (Fitting if her husband’s name is, as I think it is, Porter. At 27.2 he will be a “janitor”, and at several points will be identified with Janus, Roman god of doorways.) Overtone of genitrix would seem to associate her with ALP, the book’s archetypal mother; still, as far as I can see, there is no sign that Kate is a mother. Possibly relevant that Nora had been a convent portress in Galway 8.9: “goan:” Goa, in India, figured in Wellington’s India campaigns 8.10: “Willingdone:” Lord’s Prayer: “Thy will be done” 8.11, 13: “ffrinch:” Brewer, on “ff” for “F:” “Its modern use is an affectation.” See also 296, Fn. 1, 392.15, 495.27, 607.31; “ttrinch” at 9.19 is probably a play on the same thing. 8.12: “the cap and sorracer:” as best as I can determine, there is nothing in the Prussian flag of the period that might reasonably be compared to a cup and saucer, or an article of headwear, or a sorcerer. Perhaps pertinent that the holdings of the London Wellington Museum include fancy tableware; see also “silvoor plate,” .31. 8.14: "Bullsfoot!:" compare "Bullsear!" (9.24), "Bullsrag! (10.15), and "Bullseye!" (10.21), with notes. Here, perhaps because preceded by "bullet," "byng," Bull," and "bang" (8.12-3): see the "bullsfooted bee" of 120.6, with McHugh note. 8.15: “pike and fork:” pikes and pitchforks were sometimes used as weapons by Irish rebels. 8.15: “triplewon hat:” a hattrick: three goals in one game. Napoleon’s hat was a bicorn, not a tricorn. According to Wellington, the sight of Napoleon’s hat on the battlefield was worth 40,000 troops. 8.16-7: “This is the Willingdone on his same white harse, the Cokenhape:” “harse:” horse’s arse. (Along with the usual irridentist reasons for resenting Wellington, see 10.17-8 and note.) Both Wellington’s Copenhagen and Napoleon’s Marengo were named for notable victories of their riders. A fixture of the most memorable scene of A Royal Divorce, here being performed, was a white horse, ridden on alternate nights by the actors playing either of the two. Compare the “Copenhague-Marengo” of 232.16, at the outset of what is to some extent another staging of the play’s Waterloo enactment. Performances also included a “Pepper’s Ghost,” for which compare McHugh’s note to 214.15-6, where one of the washerwomen is apparently remembering those two prominent features of the spectacle, white horse and Pepper’s Ghost, as one “ghostwhite horse of the Peppers.” 8.18-21: "grand and magentic...wartrews:" the first example of an HCE signature: seven different articles of clothing. By Celtic custom, the number of different colors one could wear was determined by class, starting with one for servants, up to seven for monarchs. 8.22: "living detch:" aside from the "living death" of combat, three battlefield landmarks: 1. the "sunken lane" or "ravine" which, according to Victor Hugo's Les Miserables (historians disagree), was the beginning of the end for Napoleon at Waterloo: a charge of the French cavalry, unaware of its presence ahead, plunged in, with the bodies of horses and men crushing and suffocating one another. Hugo's mournful poem about Waterloo appears at 541.22. 2. the "sunken road" in the midst of no-man's land at the First Battle of the Somme, July 1, 1916. Any soldier, British or German, who tried to take shelter in it became an easy mark for gunners, and like Hugo's "sunken lane" it filled up with corpses. Later FW mentions are "sukinsin of a vitch" (437.29-30) and "sunken rut" (478.14). 3. in general, the trenches of, especially, WW I. They appear in a number of FW battle scenes, for instance as the "sunksundered lines" of 349.15. 8.23: “inimyskilling:” enemy-killing 8.29: “Grand Mons Injun:” the angel or angels of Mons, originally a story by Arthur Machen about mysterious angels coming to the aid of the beleaguered British at the Battle of Mons, the first major battle of WW I. It was widely believed and became a prominent piece of WW I lore. In some versions, the angels are bowmen, shooting down enemy troops. Also: Mons was a British outpost during the Battle of Waterloo. 8.30: “crimealine:” Kremlin 8.30: “sheltershock:” it was in WW I that shellshock came to be recognized as a debilitating symptom arising from prolonged exposure to battle. 8.31: “jinnies:” camp-followers, provocateuses. A good deal of the Waterloo sequence is a matter of the two men, Wellington and Napoleon, trying to measure up to the presence of the jinnies. 8.31: “legahorns:” lanthorns (According to OED “lanthorn” is a folk etymology for lantern, whose translucent sides were often made of horn.) The Wellington (Waterloo) Museum in Brussels features the wooden leg of Lord Uxbridge, who lost the original in what became a famous anecdote of the battle. 8.35: “tallowscoop:” kitchen device, according to one description, “for pouring melted tallow into candle molds.” Resembles a long spoon with the bowl tapering at the end. As telescope: like the penis, it can be extended from original, compacted, size, in this case due to the provocations of the jinnies. It will put in another appearance at 178.27-9, where Shem "did take a tompip peepeestrella throug a threedraw eighteen hawkspower durkdicky telescope,"with "draw," as defined by the OED, being "a tube fitted inside another through which it can slide." Wellington's was a four-draw telescope, with magnification power of thirty. 9.1: “phillippy:” lippy philippic. Continues as “out of his most,” after which McHugh and Oxford editors both recommend inserting “toocisive bottle of Tilsiter. This is the libel in the battle.” That is, the libel in the bottle: perhaps the first sign of FW’s “letter,” which is frequently a letter in a bottle. “Libel” would be both a libel in, and label on, the bottle: in III.1-3, the postman Jaun, bearing the letter, is a waterborne barrel of Guinness, including the yellow Guinness label. (“Bottle of Tilsiter” may include overtone of Pilsen/Pilsener beer.) Napoleon signed two Treaties of Tilsit, one with Russia and one with Prussia, in both cases from a decisive position of strength, in both cases very much to his imperial advantage. 9.1: “me Belchum:” James Belcher was a 19th century prizefighter who resembled Napoleon; the “Belcher” handkerchief of 37.29 is named after him. 9.3-4: “Dispatch in thin red lines:” “Red tape” originally denoted the ribbons used to tie up dispatch boxes. See 9.12, below. 9.4: “shortfront:” short front: military term for a front (as in “western front”) which is relatively - well - short. Waterloo was an example; by and large the battles of WW I were not. 9.5: “Leaper…frow:” see translation in McHugh. Under the circumstances, any question about some enemy’s wife would be taken as slur on her virtue, probably with the implication that the questioner had slept with her. 9.5: “Hugacting:” in light of the above, probably a sexual innuendo: hugging and acting huge. (Molly Bloom’s Blazes Boylan is really named Hugh.) Ironically pertinent that it is signed by the famously underendowed Napoleon, throughout this sequence contrasted with the “Willingdone”/Wellington of the flagrantly phallic Wellington Monument 9.6: “tictacs:” speculation: a game of tic-tac-toe may be underway. At 9.3-4 a cross is marked on one of the horizontal lines. Although a number of items following could be taken as O-shaped, none seems to me to be definite. 9.8: “is gonn:” have/has gone. Given the context, “is” may signal Issy; in any case, it certainly signals Maude Gonne’s daughter Iseult, to whom Yeats proposed after being turned down by the mother. 9.8: “boycottoncrezy:” boy-crazy, a popular term in the twenties. (As was, of course, girl-crazy.) It would follow that the “lipoleums” at this moment are female, or at least female-ish. (And, again, Napoleon was rumored to have been either androgynous or genitally underdeveloped.) In any case, their attentions to Willingdone do give him an erection. 9.9: “git the band up:” to get the wind up: to become extremely nervous 9.9-11: “This…Willingdone:” British historians of Waterloo have been hard on the performance of the Belgian army. “Belgians not to be trusted” reads one dispatch included in Wellington’s memoirs. Among other things, the Belgian forces were berated for disobeying Wellington’s order to attack the French at Quatre Bras. Apparently the contrast here is with Blucher, who famously told his soldiers that he had to attack because he’d given Wellington his word; the Belgians have broken theirs. 9.10: “bode:” Gaelic bod, penis. 9.10: “bonnet to busby:” female headwear to male headwear – the two are close together; possible sexual innuendo, as in “belly to belly” 9.10-11: ”with a ball up his ear:” with a flea in his ear. Can mean a number of things, but in all cases the hearer has been set off by something told to him. 9.11: “up his ear:” up his rear (or rere): buggery 9.11-2: “Willingdone’s hurold dispitchback:” dispatch sent back by Wellington, in a hurry. Wellington’s Waterloo dispatches to his forces were famous as examples of coolness under pressure; not so in the case of Napoleon, whose confusing dispatch to Grouchy may have cost the battle. A painting in the Wellington Museum, which Joyce probably visited, depicts Wellington writing his report of the battle; a dispatch box is in the foreground. Also: William the Conqueror and King Harold: note “hastings” at .2-3. 9.13: “Figtreeyou:” in many versions of the story, William Tell keeps one arrow in reserve, tells Gessler that if he had missed the apple and killed his son this arrow was “For you!” Also, “making figs” – Italian obscene gesture of contempt, occurs in Inferno. 9.13: “Ayi! Ayi! Ayi!:” call of distress; also Aye-aye, Yes, yes, as in “Aye-aye, sir,” answering .4’s “Yaw, yaw, yaw!” – Yah, yah, yah. Also the tradition that Greek “Ai! Ai!” is written on the hyacinth, preserving the dying cry of Apollo’s beloved 9.14: “Voutre:” as foutre, plus vous, a franglais "Fuck you." Also voutre le camp: can mean either telling someone to get lost or that someone buggered out. See note to .9-11. 9.16: “stampforth foremost:” best foot foremost 9.17: “drink a sip, drankasup:” Nursery rhyme: Cross-patch, draw the latch, Sit by the fire and spin; Take a cup, and drink it up, Then call your neighbours in. 9.19: “ffrinch:” see note to 8.11, 13, above. 9.19: “mistletropes:” missile troops. Fought in WW I 9.19-20: “Canon Futter with the popynose:” the “Pope’s Nose machine gun” was a weapon in WW I. Also, poppies were a symbol of the WW I dead. (See note to 17.18.) The soldier also has a bright red-orange (poppy-colored) nose because he has been indulging in drink for a hundred days. “Canon” reinforces the pope in “popynose.” 9.18-9: “Rooshious balls:” Russian cannon balls, to go with the “Canon” of .19. (There were no Russian forces at Waterloo, nor, as far as I can determine, was there any significant Russian weaponry.) 9.20: “hundred days’:” allusion to Napoleon’s Hundred Days, ending at Waterloo 9.21-2: “jinnies in the bonny bawn blooches:” girls in pretty white blouses. Pertinent that French blouse is pronounced “blooz.” 9.22: “rowdy houses:” surprisingly, I can find no instance in which this signifies anything disreputable – neither bar nor brothel. It just means a place, the Houses of Parliament for instance, where order is not being maintained. 9.24: "Bullsear!:" depending on performance, toreadors are awarded one or two ears of the killed bull, sometimes the tail too. 9.25: “solphereens:” sulfur is an ingredient of gunpowder. Probable overtone of “smithereens” 9.26: “Almeidagad!:” Almighty God!” 9.29: "dowan a bunkersheels:" from W. H. Downing, Digger Dialects - A Collection of Slang Phrases used by the Australian Soldiers on Active Service: "doing a bunk" - WW I slang for "runnng away." The jinnies are "rinning away" (.28). Hereafter, this source will be given as Digger Dialects. As noted elsewhere, some of the items cited are included have been identified by Ian MacArthur and Geert Lernout in Issue 18 of Genetic Joyce Studies. 9.32: “cool:” O Hehir: Gaelic cúl, pronounced “kool:” bottom-most part; similar to French cul, anus 9.32: “poor the pay:” French:” “pour le pays!,” for the country!” Probably echoes Kipling’s popular poem “The Absentminded Beggar” (mentioned in “Scylla and Charybdis” and “Penelope”), urging that civilians “Pay, pay pay!” the mustered-out army beggars from the Boer War. 9.34-5: “branlish his same marmorial tallowscoop Sophy-Key-Po for his royal divorsion on the rinnaway jinnies:” brandishing his penis, pissing on the jinnies. (See 10.13 and note.) Also, Finn McCool’s dog was named Bran. 9.34-5: “Sophy-Key-Po:” “Sauve quit peut!,” these words, shouted out by the French troops - generally taken as the moment when the battle was definitely lost 9.35: “royal divorsion:” A Royal Divorce: see 32.3 and note. Also, the military tactic of a diversion 9.36: “Dalaveras:” scrambling of (Eamonn) De Valera 9.36: “fimmieras:” Gaelic fimida: pig’s tail. Goes with “porca”/pork (.36) 10.4: “nice hung bushellors:” sexual meaning of “hung” was current in Joyce’s time. Again, by report, just what Napoleon was not 10.05: “lipsyg dooley:” Yankee Doodle; also, possible overtone of “Mr Dooley,” character created by American journalist Finley Peter Dunne, basis of Joyce’s poem “Dooleysprudence” 10.6: “hinndoo Shimar Shin between the dooley boy and the hinnessy:” shadowy third party, here, as “hinndoo,” combining “hinnessy” and “dooley” (.4, .5) – fair-haired and dark-haired - who sometimes appears with the twins, for instance: “shinners two and pinchme, our tertius quiddus” (465.18). The twins are frequently signaled by the numbers three and two, in either order; here they are alternately two persons or three. Joyce once said that he could mentally grasp any two of the three persons of the Trinity, but not all three, at one time. 10:8: “threefoiled:” defiled; also, as McHugh notes trefoil / shamrock; anticipates II.3 story of Irish sod being defiled by Russian General 10.8-9: “bluddle filth:” Gibbon, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire: “In the midst of peace, the Roman troops familiarized themselves with the practice of war; and it is prettily remarked by an ancient historian who had fought against them, that the effusion of blood was the only circumstance which distinguished a field of battle from a field of exercise.” \10.9: “waxing ranjymad:” waxing (raging) mad, at the British Raj. Compare next entry, note to .14-5. 10.9: ‘bombshoob:” bombshell. Long shot: the Indian Mutiny of 1857 was sparked by reports that cartridges were greased (waxed?) with the fat of sacred animals. In any case, the “Hindoo” feels that he has been insulted by the British. 10.13: “tailoscrupp:” Krupp, German munitions manufacturers. Along with similar outfits, sometimes blamed for WW I 10.13: “waggling his tailoscrupp…upjump and pumpim:” literally, a pissing contest. Willingdone is waggling his penis, either to spray in all directions or to shake off the last drops before buttoning up. The “hinndoo” is (see McHugh), pumping ship, urinating right back at him. Echoes, I suggest, the beginning of “Nausicaa,” where the male histrionics of the previous chapter are telescoped down to two little boys, one of whom has wet his pants, fighting over a sand castle, and of the pissing contest recalled in “Ithaca.” 10.14-5: “the hinndoo seeboy:” the Sepoy Rebellion of 1857, against British rule. Also, as "seeboy" (compare .15, .19), an early instance of FW’s Peeping Tom theme – a boy, seeing, in this case probably Noah’s son Ham, cursed (“the cursigan Shimar Shin” (.18)) for seeing his father’s “harse,” his naked backside. Ham was traditionally the founder of the dark races, which by contemporary standards would have included Indians. FW’s Semitic Shem sometimes incorporates Ham as well. 10.15: “Hney, hney, hney!:” the sound a horse makes. (Too obvious? In any case, a horse has been mentioned in the preceding line.) “Hn-” spelling is probably owing to Swift’s Houyhnhnms. Also, Marshal Ney (McHugh) was Napoleon's captain of cavalry at Waterloo. Horseless, the lipoleums are desperately, after the manner of Richard III, asking him for a horse. (The "Culpenhelp" of 10.13 identified the white horse on the field as Wellington's Copenhagen, even though Napoleon's was in fact the white one.) 10.15: "Bullsrag!:" as in red flag, or rag, to a bull 10.16: "upjump:" Digger Dialects: upstart, interloper - as in the more familiar phrase "jumped-up." The sepoy, insulting Wellington/Willingdone, is, among other things, being bloody impertinent. Ironic that, as McHugh notes, this includes a famous line from Wellington; pertinent that Willingdone was viceroy of India when British rule was being challenged 10.17-8: “bornstable gentleman:” born gentleman. In making him a “big white harse,” Irishman Joyce has been paying Wellington back for his nasty crack (recorded by McHugh) that being born in Ireland didn’t make him Irish, any more than being born in a stable made one a horse. (Correction: this story is apparently apocryphal.) 10.19: “dooforhim:” do for him: put an end to him, which is what they are doing to "Willingdone" and his horse 10.21: "big white harse. Tip (Bullseye! Game!):" a bullseye is a point-blanc shot, from the (blanc) white circle at the center of an archery target. 10.26-7: “for the lamp of:” for the love of 10.26-7; “for the lamp of Jig-a-Lanthern!:” in “Scylla and Charybdis,” a “light of love” is an Elizabethan prostitute. Perhaps pertinent that a jack-o-lantern’s light is, if not red, reddish. 10.27: “candlelittle:” jack-o-lanterns are lit by candles. 10.28-11.1: “And numbered…crows:” a clutch of talismanic FW numbers: 29 (“quaintlymine”) for Issy and the girls; 54 (“fifty I spot four”) for ALP’s age; 12 (“a runalittle…pelfalittle”) for the twelve customers; “seven,” HCE’s invariable number of clothes; 23/32 (“pigeons pair…three of crows”), for the twins: see note to .6. 10.32: “gnarlybird:” accounts of the Waterloo scavengers are especially horrific: some killed the wounded, stripped the corpses naked, pried out teeth for what came to be called the “Waterloo teeth” of the denture market; their numbers included both men and women. 10.34: “bleakbardfields:” Field of Blackbirds – name for the Battle of Kosovo, 1448 10.35-11.02: “wrothschields…our pigeons pair are flewn for northcliffs. The three of crows have flapped it southenly, kraaking of de baccle:” refers to the legend that Nathan Rothschild got first news of the British victory at Waterloo via a carrier pigeon and invested accordingly. 10.36: “Our pigeons pair:” pigeon pair: boy and girl twins – from the belief that pigeons always sit on two eggs, one of girl chick and one of boy 10.36: “ontorsed:” unhorsed 11.1-2: “de baccle:” debacle – for Napoleon, that is 11.2: “kvarters:” quarters, in sense of designated areas, military or otherwise 11.3: “on shower:” unsure 11.4: “flash:” tastelessly showy – here when he’s out on the town with “Nixy” girls 11.7: “Fe fo fom:” “Fee Fie Fo Fum:” man-eating giant’s chant in “Jack and the Beanstalk” 11.21-2: "moonled brooches with bloodstaned breeks in em:" menstruation: monthly moon-led broachings leaving blood in the "breeks," slang for "breeches." Compare 212.16, where ALP gifts "ilcka madre's daughter a moonflower and a bloodvein." The ("bloodstaned") bloodstone was supposed to have the magic property of stanching bloodflow. 11.13: “But it’s armitides toonigh, militopucos, and toomourn we wish for a muddy kissmans to the minutia workers:” given that it is to be followed by a “muddy kissmans,” this “armitides” is probably the armistice of November 11, 1918. The “minutia workers” are the munitions makers who many blamed for the war. “Mud” was a recurring word in descriptions of WW I battles; generals had sent soldiers to fight in what amounted to quicksand. Also, the muddy field of Waterloo caused Napoleon to postpone his attack – yet another explanation sometimes given for his defeat. 11.17: “burrowed:” borrowed 11.19: “rattlin:” short for “ratline.” OED: “One of the small lines featured horizontally on the shrouds of a vessel, and serving as steps by which to go up and down the rigging.” 11.20: “flasks:” standard issue for British soldiers 11.21-2: “moonled brooches with bloodstained breeks in em:” McHugh and Oxford editors both suggest “bloodstaned,” which would reinforce the “stone” component. Bloodstone/heliotrope is typically dark green with flecks or streaks of red resembling blood stains. This is apparently the first FW mention of the heliotrope; it will become a major feature of II.1. There as here, it is sometimes paired with the moonstone or pearl – lambently diffuse light contrasted with sun-seeking helio-trope. In “Telemachus,” “breeks” is slang for breeches, here stained with blood. 11.22: “nightgarters:” British knights, Order of the Garter 11.23: “nickelly nacks:” knickknacks 11.23: “foder:” fodder, as in gun or cannon fodder 11.24-5: “ills and ells with loffs of toffs and pleures of bells:” he’s and she’s with lots of (male) toffs and plenty of (female) belles; perhaps extended (.26) with “hart” (male) and “fairest” (female, as in “the fair sex”) 11.27: “cearc:” cert. Compare “Aeolus:” “dead cert” 11.27-8: “With Kiss…Undo lives ‘end. Slain:” out of sequence, but seems to incorporate elements from wedding ceremony: “till death do us part;” kiss; congratulations. Followed by “truetowife” (.29) 11.28: “Slain:” 1. Gaelic Sláinte, To your health. 2. English slain, killed – the battlefield dead. FW equal-opposites 11.29: “bootifull:” dutiful, beautiful 11.36: “Troysirs:” trousers 12.2: “citters to cit in:” in “Aeolus,” “cits” is slang for “citizens.” 12.3: “let young min talk smooth:” the expression “smooth talker” usually refers to salesmen (“min”/men) or (again, “min”/men) seducers. 12.7: “under liquidation:” legal term: bankrupt’s property being sold to pay off debts 12.8: “nare:” ne’er 12.8-9: “nare a hairbrow nor an eyebush on this glaubrous phace:” compare 3.13-4: “rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.” “Eyebush:” eyebrow. “Glaubrous:” combination of “glabrous” (hairless) and “glaucous” (pale green) – an allusion to Joyce’s glaucoma 12.11: “turfwoman:” in “Two Gallants,” a woman who has become a prostitute is said to be “on the turf.” 12.13: “beardsboosoloom:” The Tempest I.2, 50: “dark backward and abysm of time” 12.19: “fruting for firstlings and taking her tithe:” like a mother bird, rooting – for instance for worms – to feed her young, keeping some for herself. “Firstlings” can be either first-born (baby birds are “nestlings”) or a first crop. 12.20: “two mounds:” the feet of the buried giant 12.22-3: “swishawish satins and taffetaffe tights:” compare 3.9-10: “mishe mishe to tauftauf:” a recurring FW motif 12.26: “shortlegged bergins:” Compare “little Alf Bergan,” a character in Ulysses who, according to Ellmann’s biography, was based on a real person of that name. 12.27: “Corkhill…Ivor’s:” Louis Mink: “The following five ‘Hills’ are all sts [sites] in cen Dub [central Dublin]. Olaf Rd and Sitric Rd are just N [north] of Arbour Hill, and Ivar St is two blocks further N.” 12.29-31: “every crowd has its several tones…each harmonical:” as McHugh notes, the preceding list has included a sequence of string instruments. 12.31-2: “Olaf’s on the rise and Ivor’s on the lift:” “rise:” steps. “lift:” elevator. 12.33: “scraping along:” dismissive way of describing what players of string instruments do 13.2: “One sovereign punned to petery pence:” “petery” as in “peters out:” the pound has been diminished to a few pennies. (The pun here probably just amounts to equating one kind of “sovereign” (the king, as in “Royally”) with another (pound, as in “punned”). 13.6-8: “outwashed…house:” first appearance of the calendar picture – a.k.a. almanac picture - on the pub’s wall. I haven’t been able to ascertain any one candidate, but Edwin Douglas’ Mine Host, available on Google Images, is a good example of the type: hunter on horseback, surrounded by hunting dogs, at the door of an inn, being served a “stirrup cup,” Irish deoc an dorais, by a young woman, apparently the daughter of the innkeeper looking contentedly on. “Stirrup cup” scenes were routinely the first in a series of “hunting prints,” of the kind that Leopold Bloom’s father displayed on the wall of his hotel, depicting the stages of a fox hunt from start to the kill. Note: as far as I can tell, FW uses the terms “almanac picture” and “calendar picture” interchangeably, although the former occurs more frequently. Almanac pictures were included in yearly “Christmas almanacs” and meant to be framed and displayed – in places like pubs, for instance. Calendar pictures, one for each month, were the kinds of pictures still seen on wall calendars, and, of course, were also displayed. Both were proverbially pretty, but almanac pictures were especially known for their sentimentality. In Ulysses, the maudlin Halcyon Days hanging in Gerty McDowell’s outhouse is an almanac picture, and when the narrator of “Cyclops” says that Bloom belongs in an almanac picture, he means that Bloom is being mawkish. The picture is mentioned often throughout FW and at times prompts or joins in the action. These appearances will be noted as they occur; some examples: 191.5-8, 194.6-12, 245-35-6, 310.22-30, 334.31-6, 379.3-6, 387.33-5, 512.4-6, 561.12-4, and 622.23-32 13.8: “innkempt house:” that is, unkempt house, that is, disorderly house, that is, house of prostitution. The charge is an early instance of the simmering hostility toward HCE. 13.13: “Lokk:” Loki, the prankster of Scandinavian mythology 13.14: “old butte new:” hill of Howth, seen anew 13.14-5: “mausolime wall:” lime, as used as cement in making a wall 13.18: “lichening:” listening 13.19: “pretumbling:” pretending 13.22: “baile’s:” Baile Átha Cliath: Dublin 13.24: “um. T.”: umpty: slang for unimaginably large number; rhymes with Humpty (Dumpty); compare 345.18: "getting umptyums gatherumed." 13.24-8: “Unum…polepost:” the four items listed correspond to FW’s family: 1. father, an authority figure (alderman), likened to a mountain (Ben Bulben); 2. mother, an old woman, identified with Ireland’s national (female) personification; 3. daughter, a maid with auburn hair (like Nora Barnacle’s), pining for a lost lover whose name is some variant on “Brian;” 4. twins, the penman and postman. 13.30: “popeye:” Adaline Glasheen has this as the “I yam what I yam” Popeye (compared 604.23); given context, it also seems right for a pope opposed by an antipope. 13.31-2: “cycles of events grand and national:” the Grand National, a popular race held in Liverpool in March. It will figure prominently in II.3. 13.33: “1132:” about this canonical number, some possibly pertinent observations. 1. As noted above, the twins are repeatedly associated with the numbers 2 and 3, in either order. Issy is repeatedly associated with two matched verticals, as in 11. 1132 is compounded out of the numbers 1, 2, and 3, and 3 is the number of the triangular ALP. 1+1+3+2 = 7, which is HCE’s number. It consists of four integers in all, and the Joyce family consisted of four persons. “1132” may thus encompass the FW family, fading in and out of focus with the Joyce family. 2. The traditional founding date of the Roman Empire is 753 B.C. Estimates of its last year vary, but one candidate is 378 A.D, when, according historian Alessandro Barbero in his The Day of the Barbarians, the Battle of Adrianopole “marked the end of the Roman Empire.” Barbero quotes contemporary historian Ammianus Marcellinus that the empire’s history ended with that defeat, “as if it had come to a full stop.” 753 + 378 = 1131; add 1 for the B.C. – A.D. skip (10 B.C. to 10 A.D. is 21 years, not 20) and the result is 1132. During the two years following, Theodosius declared Christianity the official religion and began the persecution of pagans; the Nicene Creed, still today the foundation of most Christian denominations, was proclaimed and made official. At the same time, the creed initiated Christianity’s “Great Schism,” over the filioque disagreement. In another schism, Theodosius officially became the last to rule over both Rome and Constantinople. (The Byzantine Empire lasted 1123 years – close to Rome’s record. 1132, I suggest, may be FW’s definition of a millennium, the maximum length of time that any human institution can survive. Except, that is, for the Roman Catholic Church, as Joyce would have pointed out.) In this context, it seems pertinent that the “commodious” of 3.2 is clearly an allusion to Commodus, the emperor who according to Gibbon and others, initiated Rome’s – indeed humanity’s - decline and fall. (And that the words “The fall” occur thirteen lines later, essentially beginning FW’s narrative; see note to 3.2.) 3. In Irish history, a number of FW’s major historical players were at least around: Henry II and Laurence O’Toole were both born in 1132. In the same year Dermot MacMurrough, Ireland’s anti-Christ and Benedict Arnold, sacrilegiously razed the Abbey of Kildare – supposed to have been founded by Saint Brigid, along with Patrick one of Ireland’s patron saints, and thus a site of special veneration – raped and abducted its abbess, and established himself as King of Leinster, thus setting in course the events which resulted in the 1169-1170 invasion by Strongbow (born 1130), at Henry II’s behest. (In “Desmond: The Early Years, and the Career of Cormac MacCarthy,” Irish historian Henry Allen Jeffries writes, “Had Connacht’s supremacy not been so decisively ended in 1133 [as a result of MacMurrough’s actions begun in 1132] it is conceivable that the course of Irish history could have taken a radically different turn.” Other contemporaries prominent in FW include Thomas Becket (born 1118, assassinated 1170) and Roderick O’Connor (born 1116, died 1198: his death was the basis for Joyce’s first piece of FW writing; it evolved into most of the last page of II.3.) Also, the four old men of FW II.4 are given to frequent reminiscings about the A-list English who got drunk and drowned in the voyage of the White Ship, in 1120. Other events in the vicinity include Thomas of Britain’s Tristan, considered the first written version of the Tristan legend, and Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Brittanniae: both appeared around the middle of the twelfth century; both contributed material to FW. 4. Campbell and Robinson suggest that 1132 combines 11, the number of rebeginning (because starting another round of decimals) with 32, the number of the fall (because, as Bloom remembers in Ulysses, falling objects accelerate at a rate of 32 feet per second per second). 5. Long shot: Roman numeral 1132: MCXXXII. With some squinting, may resemble a coded misspelling of (Finn) McCool: MCoooll. McHugh reads 566 and 1132 as multiples of 283 A.D., year of Finn’s death. Of these options (and there are others) I would rate number 3 above the rest. More often than not, FW’s 1132 has to do with time – either a date or a specific duration - and an inordinate number of the persons and events associated with Ireland’s version of the fall seem to cluster around that date. As far as I know, the first person to make the case for 1132 A.D. was “the Riverend” Clarence R. Sterling (“Foriver For Allof – The Ravisht Time A’Bride,” 2001), who among other pertinent details notes that in raiding the Kildare abbey McMurrough extinguished the fire first kindled by Brigid in 484 A.D. (hearths and hearth fires are among Brigid’s attendant emblems), that Kildare figures prominently in FW’s accounts of Irish calamities, and that Brigid’s feast day of February 1 corresponds to Imbolc, the Irish equivalent of our Groundhog Day, February 2, because supposed to be midway between winter solstice (usually December 21) and spring equinox (usually March 21). February 2, Candlemas, was Joyce’s birth date; Sterling makes a plausible case that FW sometimes finds ways to combine the two. Changes and recalculations of calendars complicate matters, but in one version the date in question would be midway between the darkest day of the year, Saint Lucy’s Day, after whom Lucia Joyce was named (Saint Lucy is patroness of those, like Joyce, suffering from blindness or other eye afflictions) and March 21, Nora Barnacle Joyce’s birthday. Also, this: again, the traditional date of Rome’s founding is April 21, 753 BC. Nora Barnacle, again, was born on March 21, 1884. Skipping the BC-AD year (Caesar Augustus, born September 23, 63 BC and died August 19, 14 AD, was 75, not 76, at the time of his death) 753 + 1132 = 1884. Your annotator believes that the FW default date is March 21 – that, having set his previous book on the day of his first date with Nora, Joyce went on to commemorate her birthday in his next book. 13.34-14.15: "1132…Dublin.:” the four vignettes follow the sequence of 13.24-28: father, mother, daughter, twins. These four items, clearly related to Joyce's immediate family - father, mother, daughter, son - show up in others of FW's microcosmic lists, above all, 3.4-14, although the order of the children can vary, and in fact Joyce's son Giorgio was born before his daughter Lucia. 13.33-4: “groot hwide Whallfisk:” great white whale. Joyce’s knowledge of American literature was spotty at best, and so far as I can tell there are no other signs of Moby Dick in FW or elsewhere. On the other hand, Adaline Glasheen finds several references to Billy Budd, and FW was written during the years when Moby Dick was being rediscovered and recognized as a classic. If this is an allusion to Melville’s book – the exceptionally reliable J. S. Atherton thinks it is - its significance here eludes me. 14.1-2: “look it:” looked (provincial accent) 14.2: “sothisfeige:” Gaelic feighill: herd cattle 14.2-3: “cowrieosity:” in some cultures, the cowry shell represents a vagina, about which heterosexual males are unappeasably curious. 14.4: “illigant:” illegitimate. Giorgio and Lucia were illegitimate. 14.7: “brazenlockt damsel:” with bronze-colored locks of hair. Compare 13.17: “auburn mayde.” Nora had auburn hair. 14.8: "Puppette her minion:" both child being delivered and Malay pepet for vagina 14.9: “Puropeus Pious:” puerperal: relating to childbirth – especially puerperal fever, a dangerous fever sometimes contracted during childbirth. Along with "Bloody," in the same line, suggests a painful and perilous delivery. Joyce's writing, especially "Oxen of the Sun" in Ulysses, reflects a lifelong fascination with obstetrics, mindful of the "Genesis" curse that woman shall bring forth in pain and inclined to take it as a comment on God, not Eve; the "therrble prongs" of the last page (628.5) may, among other things, signal a forceps delivery. Pontius Pilate killed Mary's son. 14.9 “Puropeus Pious:” Pontius Pilate 14.12: “Caddy and Primas:” cadet: second (or later) born, after first-born Primas; perhaps given in reverse order because of Jacob and Esau story 14.14: "o peace a farce:" Omega, Alpha - again (see previous entry) in reverse. "Caddy" is the writer, using the alphabet from first letter to last - his "Blotty words" (.14) are ink, blotted. May be pertinent that FW goes from last page to first 14.18: “billy flood:” billy club 14.18: “sultrup:” satrap: can mean either ruler or ruler’s functionary; perhaps with admixture of “sultan” 14.20: “banged pan the bliddy duran:” banged upon the bloody door 14.22: “marks:” German unit of currency. (Maybe obvious) 14.28: “farfatch’d:” far-fetched 14.31: “gloamering:” glimmering gloaming 14.33: “returned viridities:” that is, the green leaves and grass of the new, returning spring 14.34: “herb trinity:” popular folk-name for pansy 15.5: “chiliad:” a thousand years 15.5: “brittled:” battled 15.7: “have thrown up:” have given up on something; here, have relinquished that something – “jerrybuilding” - to someone else, “the Kevanses.” Elsewhere in FW, Jerry and Kevin are Shem and Shaun, respectively. 15.7: “jerrybuilding:” jerry-built: made cheaply and sloppily 15.23: “be troth!:” betroth, truthfully 15.24: “Lave a whale a while in a whillbarrow:” compare 13.33-5. 15.26: “Tim Timmycan timped his, tampting Tam:” copies rhythm of beginning of “Finnegan’s Wake:” “Tim Finnegan lived in Watkin Street.” 15.30: “joebiggar:” Jupiter, disguised as a beggar, perhaps from Ovid’s story of Baucis and Philemon 15.31: “hoagshead:” hogshead: large cask. Occurs in Huckleberry Finn 15.32: "mammamuscles:" this is apparently the first of FW's instances of stuttering. (Others to follow: "mahan" (16.1), "prapsposterus" (16.3), "Noho" (16.15), "a stun a stummer" (16.17), "Has? Has at? Hasatency?...Boohooru! (16.26), ("mine mines" (16.27), "rimimirim" (16.28) and "Louee, louee!" (16.33). With one exception ("hauhauhauhaudibble" (16.18)) - see the note to this line - they will, in the following exchange, all come from the "Mutt" character, who attributes the onset to some traumatic experience - a battle (Clontarf or Waterloo), or the ("coyne" (16.31)) coin, with its engraving of ("Cedric Silkyshag" (16.34)), Sitric Silkinbeard, the Danish invader defeated in the battle, which reminds him of Clontarf. (The coins issued by Silkinbeard after the battle (see McHugh) included his likeness.) Joyce's Notebook VI.B.17.063, transcribed and reviewed by Daniel Ferrer in Issue 15 of Genetic Joyce Studies, includes excerpts from Arthur Chervin, Bégaiment et autres maladies fonctionelles de la parole, which attributes onsets of stuttering to such traumatic events, and gives two examples - a boy who jumped from the window of his burning house, a girl who was terrified by being locked up in "un cabinet." 15.33-4: “slaking nuncheon out of some thing’s brain pan:” compare “Cyclops:” “lovingcup of firstshot usquebaugh…from the skull of his immediate predecessor.” 15.35: “Comestipple:” come tipple, i.e. drink; Sackerson is often represented as drunk. 15.35: “Sacksoun:” Saxon; perhaps also echo of Falstaff’s favorite drink, sack 15.36: “pouriose:” Pluviôse: month beginning late January in French Revolutionary calendar. See next entry. 16.1: “froriose:” given Pluviôse, probably a combination of Ventôse and Fructidor, French Revolutionary months beginning late February and late August, respectively 16.2: “overstep his fire defenses:” firestep: step in trench on which gunners would stand while firing. See note to 341.9. Mainly associated with WW I, but, as “firing step,” was feature of fighting during the Boer War. See next entry. 16.3: “kraals:” Afrikaans for cattle pens; term became current in Britain during Boer War. Here, the fencing is made of bones. 16.3: “prapsposterus:” something like: perhaps post us toward…Dublin’s post office. Along with Nelson’s Pillar, which stood opposite in the middle of Sackville Street, it was considered the city’s center, the point from which other locations were measured. See next entry. 16.3-4: “pillory way to Hirculos pillar:” McHugh suggests “billowy:” a sea-going trip to Hercules’ Pillars (but why only one pillar? And which one?). As trip to Nelson’s Pillar, this may echo the song “The Rocky Road to Dublin.” 16.4: “fool porterfull:” the entrance to the “museyroom” was supervised by a “janitrix;” the entrance to Howth Castle will be guarded by a “dour;” in I.2 the male principal, eventually HCE, is a turnpike-keeper; here we have “fool porterfull.” I suggest that the name behind all these versions is “Porter,” a door-keeper. 16.5: "chorley guy:" compare 8.22 and note. The "Chorley Pals," commemorated in a monument at the site of the Battle of the Somme, were one of the "Pals Brigades" promoted by the British military before the imposition of conscription. Chorley is a town in the English midlands. Military-age men from the such towns were urged to enlist as a group with the promise that they would all serve together, as pals, in the same unit. One result could be the near-total liquidation of all of a town's young men. This happened to Chorley. Mutt and Jute are remembering, along with Waterloo, the battles of WW I, with its "fire defenses," piles of bones, and "blooty creeks" (16.2-9); 17.17-30 includes an account of the annual Armistice Day commemoration in London's Royal Albert Hall, with its million poppy petals falling to the ground. 16.10-18.16: “Jute…mud:” aside from being a comic strip, Mutt and Jeff were characters in a series of animated short features, especially popular in France, from before 1920 and well into the sound era. In my voicing, this takes about six minutes to read through – approximately the regular length of such features. 16.11: "neck...sutton:" the "isthmus" - neck - of the Sutton ("penisolate") Peninsula (3.6) is adjacent to the site of the Battle of Clontarf and was the site of raids involved in the action. 16.18: "What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing:" see 15.32 and note. "Jute"'s only case of stuttering, perhaps by way of imitation, voluntary or involuntary. Chervin lists both - the former as mockery, the second "par une sorte de contagion morale." 16.17-20: “Mutt…surd:” compare 8.20 and note: he is suffering symptoms from shellshock, first identified and named in WW I. 16.21: “poddle:” bottle. (I think that FW’s letter – therefore, eventually, FW itself – is a message in a bottle.) 16.24-5: “Become a bitskin more wiseable, as if I were you:” in other words: wise up; try to be as smart as I am. 16.26: “Has? Has at?:” panicky mishearing of “as if” (.24) 16.27: “I trumple from rath in mine mines:” the Battle of Rathmines, 1649, was a disastrous defeat for Irish forces supporting Charles I; it allowed Cromwell to land and commence his murderous campaign. 16.29: “One eyegonblack:” at the Battle of Hastings, Harold was killed when shot in the eye with an arrow. Also: for a period of FW’s composition, Joyce wore an eyepatch. 16.31-3: “sylvan coyne, a piece of oak…wooden:” aside from Wood’s halfpence, “wooden nickel” is an Americanism for a worthless counterfeit coin. As “sylvan,” the coin is either/both silver and/or (by way of woods/woodsy) wooden. 16.35: “Old grilsy growlsy!:” probably by way of associative chain: Clontarf = Battle of Clontarf = Brian Boru = Bruin = bear = growling grizzly bear. In “Circe” Bloom uses the jokey term “friend Bruin” for a bear. The whole string is prompted by a coin bearing the image of Brian Boru, who is frequently depicted and described as wearing a bearskin (“bitskin” (.24)) greatcloak. Brian Boru’s image appears sometimes on ancient Irish coins, also on a one-crown coin minted in 1910. As a bear, “poached on in that eggtentical spot,” he anticipates the Russian general, shot in II.3. 16.35: “bar:” Dublin slang for sovereign, either coin or banknote 16.36: "He was poached on in that eggtentical spot:" "poached" and "egg-" because this is where Humpty Dumpty had his great fall. 17.4: “wholeborrow:” compare “whillbarrow” (15.24). 17.6: "brookcells:" overtone of Bruxelles (see McHugh) helps identify the battle as Waterloo, fought on the outskirts of Brussels. 17.8: “norse:” nose noise; “Norse” as Viking 17.9: “bull…roarum:” Answer to question of what kind of noise he made: like the sound of a roaring bull; like a blast of the Norseman’s horn; like a bullroarer, a noisemaker used in Druid ceremonies; like this (imitates sound); like snoring 17.12: “Brian d’ of Linn:” Brian O’Linn: cant for gin 17.15: “rutterdamrotter:” Rotterdam 17.15: “Onheard of:” unheard of; absurd 17.18-29: “roundward this albutisle…whirlworlds:” Albert Hall, remembering the annual November 11 ceremony in which approximately a million poppy petals, one for each English soldier killed in W W I, are dropped from its ceiling, settling “flick as flowflakes" (.27-8). (Still a heart-piercing sight: you can see it on YouTube: "Armistice Day Albert Hall.") Also, of course, Alba Isle: Britain. Note “P. O. P.” – as in “poppy” - in 17.30. “Roundward?” Albert Hall is round, inside and out. 17.19: “ours:” in military context: our regiment 17.19-24: “where wone…brack:” were wont to call to one another, like a whimbrel (high whirring sound) to peewee (named for the sound of its call). “O’er the saltings:” Clontarf was once an island; later became part of “isthmon;” “salting” would constitute in-between state, brackish sea-water. “Mearmerge:” merging with “sweet” – fresh – water, land re-emerging as the tide recedes. 17.24: “Mearmerge two races, swete and brack:” a bit of Aryan phrenological mumbojumbo here, I think. “Brachiocephalic” people were broad-headed and considered congenitally inferior to people (like Mulligan, in “Telemachus”) with long, “equine” heads. Aryans qualified, and of course ("swete") Swedes were the gold standard. Echo of “white and black” goes along with racialist theorizing. 17.26: “requiesce:” “Requiescat in Pace” 17.27-8: “flick as flowflakes:” thick as snowflakes; also, “foam-flakes:” salt-water flakes left in wake of tide 17.28: “waast:” vast 17.29: “whirlworlds:” in Orchestra, by Sir John Davies, Antinous argues that the world is so named because it whirls on its axis. 17.29-30: “isges to isges, erde from erde:” “isges:” Gaelic for water. Again, alternation of water and land in this mutably isthmian setting 17.31: “Stench!:” Christiani suggests this as Danish for “Just think!” 18.1: “’Zmorde!” “Merde!:” Waterloo’s “mot de Cambronne” 18.6: “on all fours:” in accord with; here, able to comprehend 18.6-7: “O’c’stle, n’wc’stle, tr’c’stle, crumbling:” Mink: “The 4 Royal Manors of Co Dub, est[ablished] under Henry II, were Esker, Newcastle, Saggart, and Crumlin.” 18.8: “moulder:” mother – as to one reciting the nursery rhyme “O’c’stle,” etc. 18.18: “rede:” early spelling of “reed,” as writing implement; see “rush” of .28 and McHugh’s note. To read a book, especially this one, is to participate in writing it. 18.19: “world:” compare Ulysses’ mixup of “word” and “world.” 18.20: “Tieckle:” tickle. (Laughing will follow.) 18.21: “Forsin:” For sin: the reason his (Belshazzar’s) kingdom will be given to the Medes and Persians. 18.22: “Porsons:” Richard Porson, distinguished classical scholar; the sense is that what has happened in the past is now in the hands of latter-day archivists. 18.22-3: “oloss and again:” of loss and gain; alas 18.23-4: “our old Heidenburgh in the days when Head-in-Clouds walked the earth:” Genesis 3:8: “And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” Also, perhaps Pope's Essay on Man: "Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind / Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind." 18.32: “turnpaht:” in the first appearance, in the 1927 transition, “turnpaht” was “turnpath.” (Oxford editors do not include.) Makes more sense, I think, although OED has no entry for what it seems to mean here: the turn in the path on which an ox, pulling a plough, reverses directions. 18.34: “Futhorc:” futtock 18.34: “effingee:" FNG. I don’t know what it stands for (long shot: the context is heavily military in its language, and the Urban Dictionary gives “Fucking New Guy” for a new arrival to a military unit; earliest entry is 1972, but that may have more to do with the evolution of obscenity laws than with the word’s actual terminus a quo), but it is “for” a "fing." 18.35: “flintforfall:” funeral 18.35: “O I fay!:” O I say! 18th century “s” 18.36: “Unwap:” Unwrap 19.2: “cued:” cute 19.2: “peas:” p’s: abbreviation for pence: the tommy’s “pecuniar” “pay roll” (.2, 4). Seven p. daily would have been too little by the time of FW: since late in the 19th century British privates had been paid a shilling a day, although deductions could leave them with considerably less. 19.2-4: “peas of quite a pecuniar interest inaslittle as they are the pellets that make the tomtummy’s pay roll:” compare Napoleon: “An army travels on its stomach.” As in “Two Gallants,” “peas” can be what American call beans, a staple of the military diet. 19.3: “inaslittle as:” inasmuch as 19.4-5: “Right rank ragnar rocks and with these rox orangotangos rangled rough and rightgorong:” classic tonguetwister: Around the ragged rock, the rugged rascals ran. (There are variants: “ragged” and “rugged” switching places, for instance.) Google Books’ first entry is from 1921. Chervin (see 15.32 and note) cites it as an example of how English speakers sometimes have trouble pronouncing "r." Probably not coincidental that it appears here just after "Mutt"s problems with stuttering have ceased. Also: language of military maneuver (“Right ranks,” etc.) and aggression: compare 122.6-19, where R (“ars, rrrr!” (122.6)) is, of all the letters of the alphabet, the one spoiling for a fight. 19.5: “orangotangos:” Orang is Malay for man. Later, beginning at 110.25-8, orange peels will feature in excavations of the "mudmound" (111.34) from which FW's letter is unearthed. 19.5: “rightgorong:” right go wrong: appears twice in Ulysses; seems to mean: determined to proceed, regardless of the consequences. 19.6-7: “Thik is for thorn that thuck in its thoil like thumfool’s thraitor thrust for vengeance:” the sequence of “th”s here is of course because that is the sound signified by a thorn. With some latitude, the cursive lower-case thorn – resembling a backward 6 with the tail crossed – can recall the gesture of making figs – clenching a fist and thrusting the thumb (“thumfool’s”) between index and middle finger. (See 9.13 and note.) An obscene and hostile gesture, in keeping with the tenor of the “Right ranks” passage just finished. “Thraitor:” threatening traitor 19.7-8: “mnice old mness it all mnakes:” in translation, Greek “mn” = Latin “m.” 19.9: “alfrids, beatties:” Sir Alfred Chester Beatty bought a collection of newfound New Testament codices; the results were first published in 1933. 19.9-10: “Owlets’ eegs (O stoop to please!):” owlets are baby owls; owls’ eggs are white and, according to pictures found on Google Images, sometimes oval, sometimes round – perhaps like “O” and “oo.” Possible overtone of “owl eyes:” also conspicuously round and good for detecting signs; an owl “stoop"s when it descends on its prey. 19.11: “epsilene:” epicene, obsolete. Also, since (“daltons”) delta was the last letter of the Greek alphabet just mentioned, epsilon 19.11-2: “haudworth a wipe o grass:” compare 304 Fn. 3: “Wipe your glosses with what you know” – where, I will be suggesting, “what you know” is also “you know what,” euphemism for shit. Here, anticipating the Russian General story of II.3: hardly worth an arsewiper. (See 10.08 and 16.35, above, with notes.) 19.15: “Paddy Wippingham:” Dick Whittington, paired with Saint Patrick. The connection here is pest control: Patrick rid Ireland of snakes and Whittington’s cat at least kept London’s rat population down. 19.17-8: “pricker than our whosethere outofman could quick up her whatsthats:” quicker than the notoriously curious Eve could obtain answers to her incessant questions, such as “What’s that?” “Pricker” is surely a clue as to what the what is. See next entry. 19.17-8: “her whatsthats:” In Gargantua and Pantagruel, the vagina is a comment a nom. Goes, obviously, with “pricker.” 19.20: “Axe on thwacks on thracks, axenwise:” X’s. (Last entry, “axenwise:” X and Y’s.) FW’s letter ends with a string of three or four X’s. 19.20-1: “One by one place one be three dittoh and one before:" the axe (.19) is making Ogham markings, probably on a tree, here being tallied, probably incorrectly, as Roman numerals: one by one plus one is three and one is ("-fore") four. (As usual, alternates occur: “One by one” can be 1 x 1, which would equal not 2 but 1; a sequence of two 1’s, with "place" as short for "decimal place," followed by 3, automatically alerts the FW reader to look out for a 2, which may here be supplied by “dittoh,” since “ditto” can be fairly translated as “duplicate:" 11.32.) In the Irish Ogham alphabet, three “left side/upward” strokes would be a T, i.e. Tristram, signaling Issy – a frequent FW theme. (For a similar scenario, see 571.4-9.) 19.21-2: “two nursus one make a plausible three dittoh and one before:” again, seems to be a "plausible," if scrambled, 1132: the two can be II/11, then three, then ditto as duplicate – two. (“One before?” Before what?) 19.22-3: “three-legged calvers:” yet another reading of the “axenwise” marks, this time as pictograph – and, horizontally positioned, of E, the male principal. 19.23: “ivargraine jadesses:” evergreen (female) jades: coinciding (jade is green) contraries: a “jade” is a woman thought to been hardened by her experience with men. “Ivargraine” probably includes “Graine” (one of a number of spellings) of Dermot and Graine – the Irish Tristan and Iseult. The evergreen echo would seem to go with hypothesis (see .20-1 and note) that the message has been cut on the trunk of a tree. 19.25-6: “What a meanderthalltale to unfurl:” so the book is, for now anyway, a scroll, not a codex. (Some have suggested a Möbius strip.) “Meanderthalltale:” ancient meandering tall tale 19.26: “squatter:” back in the beginning, anyone occupying any spot of land was a de facto squatter. 19.26-7: “and anntisquattor and postproneauntisquattor!:” any antesquatter – someone claiming prior (ante) squatting rights – would be an (anti) enemy. “Postproneauntisquattor,” incorporating Latin for both “behind” and “for,” probably signifies how tangled such claims can get. (Also, Ann/Anna has become an aunt/auntie.) 19.27-8: “tim, nick and larry:” Tom, Dick, and Harry 19.28: “sons of the sod:” an Irish-inflected version of “sons of the soil,” a fairly widespread sentimental epithet for farmers 19.28-9: “sons of the sod, sons, littlesons, yea and lealittlesons:” a generation of locals being progressively distanced from their roots in the “sod.” Not clear to me what “lealittlesons” signifies, but it certainly seems like a yet-one-degree further remove from “littlesons.” “-Little-:” the present race, as opposed to when “there were giants in the earth in those days.” 19.29: “every sue, siss, and sally of us:” perhaps obvious: female version of Tom, Dick, and Harry; call-and-response answer to 19.27-8. 19.29-30: “dugters of Nan!:” dugs of Nan and the daughters who sucked on them; probably owing to the tradition of “Nana” for mother, grandmother, wet nurse, or governess 19.30: “Accusative ahnsire! Damadam to infinities!” an excerpt from some Latin lesson in hell: The correct answer, sir, was in the accusative! I condemn you to write out your answer in infinitives, for infinity! Compare the centurion and graffitist scene in Monty Python's Life of Brian. “Ahnsire...Damadam:” sir and madame, (grand)father and (grand)mother. 19.33-4: “You gave me a boot (signs on it!) and I ate the wind:” You kicked me out (either: curse you! or: as a result) and I went hungry. For “signs on it!” compare “Circe:” “Signs on you, hairy arse:” here, an Irish expression of hostility. (Petr Ŝkrabánek, however, makes a good case for the “as a result” reading.) For “You gave me a boot,” compare “Cyclops” on Bloom’s being fired: “Joe gave him the order of the boot.” Also, 181.32: “got the boot.” Also, in sailing terminology, to eat the wind relative to a rival sailing ship is to position one’s vessel so as to deprive it of the prevailing wind. 19.34: “I quizzed you a quid (with for what?):” “quiz” can mean something like: to feel out, to find out; here, the sense is probably: I was wondering if you would loan me a quid, the answer being: No. The young Joyce had many such exchanges, no doubt sometimes with responses of the “What for?” sort. 20.1: “under the ban of:” under the banner of 20.1: “infrarational:” by analogy to infrared, infradig 20.1: “fore:” given context: before 20.1-3: “milchcamel...has still to moor:” idea of camel being moored is probably licensed by its reputation as “the ship of the desert.” Also, “Moor” as native of North Africa 20.2: “heartvein:” heart vein, a.k.a. great cardiac vein. Tradition has it extending to the fourth finger of the left hand – hence the ring finger; here, it goes to the space between Mohammed’s eyes. 20.2: “eyebrowns:” Joyce’s source describes Mohammed’s eyes as black, not brown, so probably this means brown eyebrows. 20.3: “date:” OED has 1885 as the earliest instance of “date” as meaning an appointment with romantic possibilities. 20.4: “palm that’s hers:” her (“cousin charmian”’s (.3)) hand. Also, palm tree; a date tree is a palm tree. 20.5-7: “A bone, a pebble, a ramskin,; chip them, chap them, cut them up allways; leave them to terracook in the muttheringpot: and Gutenmorg with his cromagnom charter:” to quote from Wikipedia, Cro-Magnons “used bones, shells, and teeth to make jewelry;” they also produced cave paintings; Joyce’s youth coincided with many discoveries of Cro-Magnon art and ornament. 20.7: "muttheringpot:" A note in Joyce's Notebook VI.B.15: "motherpot." The source identifies it as the "Mother-Pot," symbol of womb or vagina, of Hathor, Egyptian goddess. 20.8-9: “rubrickredd out:” brick red; red hot, i.e. brand new. Also, “rubrics” were red letters in illuminated manuscripts, and later, highlighted liturgical instructions, sometimes considered of divine origin. Also, Roman civil laws, written in vermilion, were called rubrics. 20.9-10: “alcohoran:” alchemy. Also, the Koran prohibits alcohol. 20.10: “(the rapt one warns):” Mohammed, receiving the words of the Koran while in a state of rapture 20.10: “papyr:” papyrus 20.14: “bound over:” apprentices being indentured were said to be bound over. Also, given context, binding a book 20.19: “Nondum:” London. “How many miles to London:” an English version of “How many miles to Babylon,” with the same answer: seventy. Almost certainly related to the Bible’s allotment of “three score and ten years” to a human life. 20.19-20: “sytty maids per man:” a Mohammedan hadith (not, be it noted, the Koran itself) promises seventy-two virgins to each martyr in the faith. 20.21: “handself:” own self 20.23-5: “every busy eerie whig's a bit of a torytale to tell. One's upon a thyme and two's behind their lettice leap and three's among the strubbely beds:" earwigs are garden pests; in the next chapter we will meet someone in the business of catching and killing them. Here they are scrambling around in the greenery. 20.25: “the chicks picked their teeths:” compare expression “rare as hens’ teeth” 20.27: "cuddy:" Brewer: "Cuddy, an abbreviation of Cuthbert, is the North Country and Scottish familiar name for a donkey." 20.28: “folty barnets:” children; also, according to Padraic Colum and Samuel Beckett, a payback swipe at Rebecca West 20.28: “For then was the age when hoops ran high:” as hoop skirts being raised: a state of affairs conducive to multiple pregnancies – ("folty barnets") forty bairns, for instance 20.29: “a pomme full grave:” a heavy apple, brought down by gravity: surely both Newton’s (gravity – counterpointed with “levity” of .30) and Adam’s (“grave:” according to Milton, it “brought death into the world, and all our woe”) 20.30: “gelding:” gilding 20.32: “prytty pyrrhique:” Issy frequently signals with pyrrhics. Compare next entry. 20.32: “perruque:” French for head of hair, wig. Also, again, “pyrrhic:” Issy and her lover often converse, metrically, through pyrrhic and spondee, respectively. 20.33: “trippiery:” as in tripping the light fantastic: dancing. As a general observation: it’s probably not accidental that this Miltonic tag crops up four lines after the echo of another one. No particular logic, perhaps, but It’s the kind of thing that happens in FW all the time. Also, possible overtone of Tipperary, which it’s a long way to. 21.2: “Lissom! lissom:” lissome: something a dancer should be 21.3: “larpnotes:” lark/harp notes 21.8: “ribberrobber:” in coming into existence, Eve robbed Adam of a rib. 21.8-9: “everybuddy to his lovesaking eyes:” that is, to his loving eyes, she was his all in all. Oxford editors insert "else" after "everybuddy." 21.10: “Jarl van Hoother:” initials J. V. H. may suggest J H V H, the Hebrew tetragrammaton for God. See next entry. 21.10: “burnt head:” the phrase occurs in Leviticus, in instructions for a burnt offering. 21.10: “lamphouse:” given the Howth setting, this is presumably Bailey Lighthouse. 21.11: “laying cold hands on himself:” to lay hands on someone is to apprehend them, often to arrest them. 21.12: “dummy:” many theories of the identity; I would suggest that, among other things, he/it is the shadowy “tertium quid” generated between the twins. See note to 10.6, above. If, as I hereby suggest, the Grimm Brothers’ story “Our Lady’s Child” is a major component, then that story’s central figure’s refusal either to speak or to speak the truth – to remain dumb – echoes the Jarl’s refusal to answer the prankquean’s riddling questions. (“Our Lady’s Child:” see William Hansen, Ariadne’s Thread: A Guide to International Tales Found in Classical Literature (Ithaca: Cornell UP), 2002, pp. 316-27.) The major divergence, I think, is that in the Grimms’ story the (non)answerer at the door is a man, not a woman. Also, and as always, again, among other things, that at 23.5 he/it is ordered to shut up shop and put the shutters up argues for some connection to Sackerson, the Mullingar’s manservant and, as “Watsy Lyke” (245.33), my candidate for FW’s least determinable principal. 21.13: "earthenhouse:" earth-houses; hidden below-ground-level homes of early Irish residents 21.14: "dermot:" Dermot, as in the Dermot and Graine (again, one of many possible spellings) story; one version of Grace O’Malley’s first name is Graine. 21.15: “prankquean:” “Quean” is a classic FW equal-opposite. It can, as McHugh says, be a disreputable woman – hussy, slut, even whore. And, of course, it sounds like “queen.” Thus Byron, in Don Juan, calls the notoriously promiscuous Catherine the Great a “Queen of Queans.” In Scots dialect, a “quean,” according to the OED, is “a young woman…with a youthful bloom…Also, a daughter.” In “The Answer,” Robert Burns has fond memories of a “sonsy quean,” “sonsy,” meaning pleasant, attractive. 21.16-7: "And she lit up and fireland was ablaze:" compare 22.3-4, 22.27-8. Joyce on his daughter Lucia: "Whatever spark of gift I possess has been transmitted to Lucia and has kindled a fire in her brain." On one occasion Lucia started a fire in her room because, she said, fire was red and her father had a red face. 21.18-9, etc.: “poss of porterpease,” etc: Joyce Notebook VI.B.17.088: an excerpt from Arthur Chervin, Bégaiement et autre maladies fonctionelles de la parole, about the biblical "shibboleth:" "Cette histoire rappelle assez celle des Vêpres sicilliennes avec le mot - « de touche » - ciceriques que les Français ne pouvaient articuler convenablement tchitchéri." The “peas” of the “prankquean” sequence constitute a shibboleth. During the ("Vêpres sicilliennes") Sicilian Vespers of 1266, French occupants and occupiers who were unable to successfully pronounce “ciciri” (Sicilian dialect for “chickpea”) were slaughtered. (The acceptable pronunciation was “che-cha-re;” “sis-sa-re” was wrong.) See second note to .20, also 354.14-15 and 425.19. In a related identification scene, the prankquean is hinting that she is the Jarl’s daughter – that they are both named “Porter.” That is why they look as like one another as two peas in a pod; to her repeated question of Why do I look like a Porter?, the suppressed incest-implying answer should be, Because you are one, because you are my daughter. See next entry. 21.20: ”her grace in dootch nossow:” in British protocol, “her grace” is the proper term for a duchess – hence, probably, the succeeding “dootch.” In Scandinavian protocol, a “Jarl” (.10) was second in rank only to the king – that is, the equivalent of a duke. Which is to say, the possibility of some close relationship between Jarl and prankquean, either of marriage or (since dukeships are inherited) consanguinity, is being raised. 21.20: “Shut!:” Shut up! The Jarl does not want to answer, or even hear, her question. Also, as McHugh notes, “Shit!,” as such an answer of the prankquean’s, and infancy’s, eternal number one (.15) with a number two. Also, in the case of both “shibboleth” and “ciceri,” the enunciation of the sh/ch sound (see note to .18-9, above) would have been critical, literally a matter of life and death. Also, both recalls Waterloo’s “mot de Cambronne” and anticipates the Russian General, shitting on Irish turf. 21.20-1: “grace o’ malice:” grace coming out of evil: a version of Augustine’s “Felix Culpa!,” one of FW’s key phrases. If, as I suggest, “Our Lady’s Child” (see notes to .12, 22) is a significant source, it may be pertinent that the Virgin Mary is often commemorated as a Second Eve, her grace redeeming the sin of the first. 21.21-2: “shandy westerness:” "shanty Irish" were poor, lower-class Irish, and a disproportionate number of them were in the west. Also, O Hehir has seanda, Gaelic for antique. 21.22: “rain, rain, rain:” in “Our Lady’s Child,” the Virgin Mary saves the life of the main female character by raining on and dousing the flames of the site where the latter was about to be burned as a witch. 21.23-4: “Stop deef stop come back to my earin:” Telegraphese: “stop” signaled the end of a sentence. As elsewhere in FW, especially in II.3, radio and telegraph signals – both, for a while, equally “wireless” – are combined: one of Ireland’s two radio stations, 2RN, took its signature from the words of the song “Come Back to Ireland” (i.e. to Erin). 21.24: “my earin:” as “my hearing,” goes with “deef,” an occasional pronunciation of “deaf.” Given radio presence, also means something like, Come back within broadcast range. 21.26-7: “forty years’ walk:” given prevalence of rain, surely referring to the forty days and forty nights of Noah’s flood 21.27: “blessings:” as elsewhere in FW, includes French "blessé," wounded 21.27: “lovespots:” Dermot’s lovespots attracted Graine to him; washing them off would presumably make him less sexy, perhaps less sexed as well. 21.27: “Tourlemonde:” “tous le monde:” everybody; “tours le monde:” around the world. Also, Mink persuasively relates the prankquean’s excursions to the tenth century text of The Voyage of Bran, in which Bran and his followers linger on the enchanted isle of Tír na mBan, the Island of Women, where, as Mink points out, since a normal human century equals a year, the prankquean’s standard duration of forty years would be twenty-one weeks. See also .22.08, 22.14, 496.08. 21.29: “owlers masters:” Old Masters 21.29: “tauch:” touch as well as teach. Hence (.29) tickles. Also, according to Brewer, “towcher” means index finger. 21.29: “tickles…luderman:” Lutheranism is not especially noted for jollity, but here being tickled seems to teach the jinny how to be ludically at play. 21.31: “redtom:” Dermot turned upside down. Approximately the same thing will happen to Tristan at 388.3. 21.33: “in her pinafrond, lace at night:” if “her” refers to the jiminy, in a lace pinafore, it may recall the young Joyce’s theory that Oscar Wilde had been made effeminate by being dressed in girls’ clothes as a baby. Also, “lace” (Irish) counterpoints shanty (Irish) of 21.21. 21.35: “cellarmalt:” malt cellar: used for making malt liquors from barley, as well as storing them. Appropriate property now that the Jarl is a host of an inn, “shaking warm hands” 22.2: “brodar and histher:” the first is definitely the brother; the second suggests not just sister but something in an androgynous his/her range. See note to 21.33. 22.3-4: “lit up again and redcocks flew flickering:” traditional Scottish belief that a red cock’s crowing in the barnyard will be followed by a fire. the prankquean is an incendiary presence. 22.5: “wicked:” a reminder that the "wicker"/wicket in "Earwicker" is a door. 22.6-7: “her madesty:” her majesty: a step up from “her grace;” see 21.10 and note. Perhaps pertinent that Grace O’Malley made a famous visit to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth I 22.7: “a forethought:” as said (or thought) before 22.8: “Woeman’s Land:” 1. tradition that woman was named thus because, as Eve, she brought woe to man. 2. See note to 21.27. 22.9: “bleethered:” blithered, blathered, bleated (compare 70.19): the wind making the sound of (.10) a “loud finegale,” gale. 22.10: “Stop…stop:” see note to 21.23-4. 22.12: “that laurency night of starshootings:” the annual Perseid meteor shower reaches its peak on the night of St. Laurence’s/Lawrence's Day, August 10; here, anticipated by “falling angles"/angels of 21.25. Date of the Battle of the Bridge of Ivora - see note to 3.6, also 519.5 and note. 22.14: “punched the curses of cromcruwell:” crewel embroidery is done with a needle. (And, of course, Cromwell was cruel to the Irish.) 22.14-1: “punched the curses of cromcruwell with the nail of a top:” having washed away the wounds – “blessings” (21.27) - she now re-inflicts them. 22.15-6: “four larksical monitrix:" compare “four owlers masters” (21.29): larky (happy, lighthearted) and owlish (brooding, deep) connote oppositely; “monitrix” may indicate that in this case the four are (as sometimes they will be later, e.g. 386.15) female. 22.16: “touch him his tears:” compare “Toucheaterre” (19.14) which Mink lists as Angleterre: England. 22.17: “onecertain:” counterpointing: one certain (faith); uncertain 22.17: “tristian:” triste, sorrowful, as opposed to playful “luderman” (21.29). As before, he seems to have learned the opposite of what his teachers were teaching. 22.21: “nice lace:” see note to 21.23. 22.24: “Toughertrees:” compare “Toucheaterre” (19.14). Also, compare 202.30: “tough as the oaktrees.” 22.27: “lit out:” ran away 22.30: “skirtmishes:” skirmishes 22.32: “terror of dames:” in “Circe,” Bloom is briefly a “squire of dames:” a lady’s man, named after the woman-besotted character in Book III of Spenser’s Faerie Queen. Here, probably means “lady-killer” in both literal and figurative senses. 23.1-2: “rudd yellan gruebleen orangeman:” rude yelling Orangeman; “gruebleen” may be variant on “true blue,” as in “Nestor:” the black north and the true blue bible,” here blending with Ireland’s green. Hard-line Ulster Protestants were “true blue;” Joyce’s work (Portrait, chapter five; “Counterparts;” “Nestor,” and, especially, FW III.3) typically depicts Ulstermen as noisy and overbearing. 23.2: “violet:” violent 23.2-3: “To the whole longth of the strength of his bowman’s bill:” in context, a bill is a Medieval/Renaissance weapon: various types, but perhaps most commonly a shaft with a blade attached, like a halberd; “bowman” is of course, like a “billman,” an armed soldier. Compare 198.30: “neither bowman nor shot abroad.” A bowshot is the distance an arrow can be shot. 23.4-5: “he ordurd and his thick spch spck for her to shut up shop:” as in 21.20, only in reverse order; he shits – makes ordure – while simultaneously having the door shut. Also, again: he tells her to shut up. 23.5: “And the duppy shot the shutter clup:” again, this is the job of the manservant, Sackerson. “Duppy” probably echoes “dopey,” which Sackerson is sometimes accused of being or shown to be. 23.9: “under shurts:” undershorts, for instance lady’s underwear 23.9: “peace:” as opposed to “pease,” which started all the trouble 23.11: “sweet unclose:” female sexual response. (Obvious?) 23.11: “Narwhealian:” a narwhal is a northern whale with a unicorn-like horn; suggestively if not blatantly phallic, it would seem to go, as counterpart, with “sweet unclose” (.11). 23.12-3: “The prankquean was to hold her dummyship and the jimminies was to keep the peacewave:” as Porter, this porter is a door-keeper, a “janitor” (27.2) like Janus. (Kate, another door-keeper, is a “janitrix” (8.8).) The doors of Janus’ Roman temple were opened during times of war, shut for peace. The Jarl has just shut the door for the third time. (On the other hand, according to the legend, the St. Lawrence family of Howth promised Grace O’Malley that they would keep their door open for dinner guests.) 23.14: “git the wind up:” to get the wind up is to be alarmed. 23.20: “Undy gentians:” indigestion, with the word interrupted by the thing itself. The same thing happens in "Lestrygonians:" Bloom's "Indiges." 23.16-24.2: “O…convaynience:” much of this paragraph plays off the conceit of HCE being a land prominence (specifically, Howth) and ALP a river (specifically, the Liffey.): e.g., “Hill, rill” (.17). Google Books tosses up exactly one instance of what it says is an Irish-Scottish Gaelic expression, “as deaf as the hills.” A slender reed, but regardless: the hill here is certainly the listening (deafly) one, and the river is the talking (loudening) one. 23.17-8: “Breast high and bestride!” one could (barely) wade a river if the water were no more than breast-high. 23.21: “Wolkencap is on him:” compare Yeats’s words from “The Man Who Dreamed of Fairyland:” “vapour-turbaned steep.” I have seen such sights in the west of Ireland: hills with clouds overlaying the peaks, like vaporous headwear. Pertinent here that clouds are water moisture, evaporated from, for instance, rivers 23.21-2: “audiurient, he would evesdrip:” if he could hear better, he would eavesdrop on the sound, which would be that of water dripping from eaves. Joyce’s notes say that the hearer is deaf or going deaf. 23.22-3: “were it mous at hand, were it dinn of bottles in the far ear:” Joyce’s commentary, that “mous” is a “Chaucerian form to suggest distance in time,” seems to raise more questions than it answers. In any case, the common expression “quiet as a mouse” is surely pertinent: the listener has trouble hearing, whether of something nearby and quiet, a mouse, or noisy and distant, the clashing sounds of bottles (for the innkeeper: Joyce’s comment says “vintner,” which according to the OED can be “an innkeeper selling wine”) or battles, perhaps distant in time (the farther away, the longer it takes for the sound to arrive) as well as/instead of space. “Far ear” may mean the ear farthest from the noise – an important difference if one remembers that this is Howth, the head of a buried giant; in that case, “mouse at hand” is at the near ear, the bottles/battles coming in the far ear, and one of the points being made is that they are equally faint because of the difference in distance: a pebble dropping next to you may be as loud as a bomb going off on the other side of town. The mutable relativism of perception, especially when it comes to inner conditions interacting with outer sensations, was I believe, at the forefront of the Joyce agenda since at least the first page of Portrait. 23.23-4: “With lipth she lithpeth to him all the time of thuch on thuch and thow on thow:” with lips she lispeth to him (pronounced lispily) all the time of (that is, about) such and such and so and so (also pronounced lispily). “Lips she lispeth” may be a deliberate tongue-twister. Conventionally, lisping suggests infancy, affectation, or seduction. 23.24-5: “She he she ho she ha to la:” what she is lisping, either mispronounced or misheard or both. Echo of so-fa-la-ti-do 23.25-7: “Impalpabunt, he abhears. The soundwaves are his buffeteers; they trompe him with their trompes:” generalization: in FW (also “Sirens”), ears are eardrums, and eardrums are drums. Here, sound reaching the ear equals air molecules beating on (ear)drums, something felt (the “-palp-” in “Impalpabunt,” “buffeteers” (buffeters), “trompe” (tramp, tromp) as well as heard. See 224.19 and note, also next entry.) 23.27-9: “roary and the wave of hooshed and the wave of hawhawhawrd and the wave of never(etc.):" sounds of waves on ocean shore: crashing wave (roar); silence after (hushed); rattling of pebbles and surf being drawn back: compare Arnold’s “Dover Beach:" Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow... then cacophonous white noise before next crash. As attested in his poem “Thou Leanest to the Shell of Night,” as well as “Sirens” in Ulysses, Joyce was acutely conscious that the ear, echoed back, generates its own sound, the oceanic roar that is really the coursing of the blood in the inner ear, which also has its (pulsing) rhythms. Here, trying hard to hear, the listener is, to at least some extent, hearing himself. 23.29-20: “Landloughed by his neaghboormistress:” the Sutton Peninsula of which Howth is a part could be cut off from the mainland if the water rose high enough; “landlocked” usually means without access to the oceans, but here it means without access to the rest of the land. 23.30: ”perpetrified:” both perpetuated and petrified by his “offsprung,” his children. 23.31: “moaning pipers:” pipes played at a funeral 23.31: “the louthly one: as in ME tag “the loathly lady,” here combining overtone of “love;” compare 627.17, 627.18. 23.32: “loab:” again, love 23.32: “devorers:" "devotés," devourers - together, sometimes the price of fame 23.33: “her pudor puff:” her powder puff: a sign of gussying up (in the powder room, for instance), therefore of female vanity and flirtatiousness. Compare “Circe:” “Woman, with sweet pudor undoing her belt of rushrope.” Shameful modesty, proverbially typical of pubescent youth 23.33: “lipalip: these and other double i’s in the vicinity indicate Issy's presence as well as ALP's. 23.34: “biff:” but 23.34: “our breed and washer givers:” our bread and water givers 23.35-6: “vestal flouting in the dock:” either the vessel floating into dock or the vestal (prostitute) flouting decency in the court dock (or around the docks, proverbial hangout for prostitutes). 23.36: “plein avowels:” plain avowals 24.1: “nor a’ toole o’ tall o’toll:” has just said that without their influence there would have been no “holy spier on the town” (23.35); now adds that there would be no St. Lawrence O’Toole Church, with its bells’ tooling-talling-tolling. At 601.28 St. Lawrence will be one of the Dublin churches joining in the “clangalied” of bell-ringings. By design or not, in FW, Chapelizod's St. Laurence's church can sometimes be difficult to distinguish from Dublin's St. Lawrence's church. 24.2: “noddy hint to the convaynience:” not a hint of a convenience. Irish, perhaps stage-Irish pronunciation of “convenience,” euphemism for a public toilet. The word in this sense will recur several times, sometimes (214.3, 421.3, 520.6, 524.1) referring to a public toilet that is inconveniently out of order. 24.5: “urned his dread:” put the ashes of his dead in urns. 79.17-8 says that earwigs carry their dead to the “earthball,” which I take as referring to burial in the earth as well as the ball-rolling of dung beetles. 24.5: “dragon volant:” flying dragon. (Obvious?) Common figure in coats of arms. Perhaps suggested because earwigs have wings. 24.6: “delivered us to boll weevils, amain:” from the Lord’s Prayer: “deliver us from evil…Amen” 24.7: “Unfru-Chikda-Uru-Wukru:” even Brendan O Hehir has no idea what language is being imitated or mocked here, but does suggest that “Unfru” derives from Teutonic Hunfrith, “Hun-peace.” As a version of “Earwicker,” anticipating the next chapter, may mean either earwig or earwigger – the latter a gardener set on exterminating earwigs as pests. Typical FW flip-flop: is he a champion member of the species (and related types, like boll weevils) or their deadly enemy? 24.7: mighty liberator…ancestor most worshipful:” Daniel O’Connell, “the Liberator:” the Joyce family was distantly related. 24.9: “blushmantle:” “mantled with blushes;” blushes “mantling to his/her forehead:” a number of fairly common poeticisms along this line 24.11: “fiery bird disembers:” Jesus as a type of phoenix rising from the embers, thereby being dis-embered; born in December. See next entry. 24.13: “whines for my wedding:” possible allusion to wedding at Cana, where Jesus turned water into wine 24.14: “whines for my wedding…bride and bedding:” match-makings and mock-weddings were common at some Irish wakes. 24.14: “is a? Wake?:” Is he awake? (The answer follows.) 24.16: “Now be aisy, good Mr. Finnimore, sir:” more Irish (or stage-Irish) idiom; with some variations, it will continue to the end of the chapter. 24.18: “Healiopolis:” Joyce loathed Tim Healy, whom he considered Parnell’s Judas. (Hugh Kenner points this out.) Healy was Governor-General of the Irish Free State from 1922 to 1928. His home was in Chapelizod. 24.19: “Kapelavaster:” O Hehir: Gaelic for his master’s horse 24.19: “after the calvary:” all in all, it is probably remarkable that FW contains only one mixup of “cavalry” and “Calvary.” (Later: Your annotator thought this was so at the time. As remarked in the note to 564.19-25, have since had second thoughts. Note to self: avoid categorical statements, and never say never.) Given “Healiopolis” of the previous line, the Calvary was Parnell’s, its traces since trodden out by the armed and mounted agents of the state. Since Finnegan’s death, the tuft-hunting bullyboys, with Healy as their head, have taken over and proceeded to stamp out anything worth remembering; why, therefore, Mr. Finnegan, would you wish to come back? Thomas Flanagan’s The Year of the French gives an impressive account of the difference, in battle, between being a foot soldier and being a cavalryman. In any one-to-one matchup the latter is going to win, and that is that. 24.26: “to leave the clean tanglesome one lushier than its neighbour.:” that is, in Ireland each field is lusher than the one before: the grass is always greener 24.31: "keld water:" Old Norse: "kelda" is well or spring 24.33: "the whole treasure of the pyre:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.145.35 note "treasure pyre" comes from a book about Viking lore and customs. The "pyre" here is for a Viking funeral, including "pouch, gloves, flasks" etc. (.32) to be burned with the body. 24.34: “pole ole Lonan:” Poor Old Woman: personification of Ireland 25.4: “Madison man:” perhaps (dating is uncertain) Madison Avenue (advertising) man. Context tends to confirm – “Basilico’s ointment” (.9), for instance 25.5: “Poppypap’s a passport out:” Possets soaked with laudanum were administered, sometimes lethally, to babies. Here, the same seems recommended for eliminating unwanted codgers (or resurrected corpses). Throughout the 19th century and on into the 20th, opium in some form (in this case, it seems, mixed with honey) was often the drug of choice for euthanasia. 25.5: “taught to gooden you:” the opium at least ought to make you feel good, as Doctor Faherty said it would. 25.6: “comb:” as in honeycomb 25.6-7: “the food for glory:” compare the evangelist Dowie, who in “Circe” brags he has “yanked” sinners “to glory” in heaven. Nectar (.7) is of course the drink of the glorious gods. 25.7: “pot:” as in honey pot. See next entry. 25.8: “goat’s milk:” thus adding up to milk and honey 25.9: “Your fame is spreading like Basilico’s ointment:” see note to .4. Although Google Books shows no such brand name at the time, Basilicon ointment (sometimes capitalized, sometimes not) was a popular home remedy in the late 19th century, and the wording here (especially “Basilico’s,” not “Balisilicon” or “Basilico”) suggests, I think, that it is being promoted and publicized as a patent medicine. (The sentence truncates the full meaning: your fame is spreading, just like the popularity of Basilico’s ointment.) Perhaps pertinent that one of its ingredients was bees’ wax - see previous two entries, entry for .6. 25.9-10: “the Fintan Lalors piped you overborder:” neither of the two main likely senses of "overborder" is encouraging: either being put overboard - walking the plank - or serenaded on your way to exile over the border, to Ulster, presumably, by a band which from its inception was associated with nationalist causes. 25.11: “they calling names after you:” a typical FW innuendo: they’re calling you names. 25.13-4: “every hollow holds a hallow:” every (Irish) hollow is hallowed. Possible Burns echo (“if a body meet a body”) would go with overall mood of sentimental nostalgia – next entry, for instance 25.14: “pledge to the drengs:” drink to the dregs. Also, since dreng is Norwegian for warrior, drinking a toast to the troops: Wellington famously said his troops were "scum." 25.15-6: “And admiring to our supershillelagh where the palmsweat on high is the mark of your manument:” perhaps obvious: a “supershillelagh” would be an enormously tall shillelagh – maybe in fact a tree – and they are amazed by how high up its length is the sweat-mark left by the hand of the giant who held it. The whole thing is a monument to his manliness. 25.18: “bowed and soild:” besides bought and sold (McHugh), bowed down and soiled, the fate of Saint Patrick, who was sold into slavery 25.18-9: “letdown itself from the oner of the load:” let down by God Himself, the One God, the owner of the lot 25.19-20: “it was that paddyplanters might pack up plenty:” heavily ironized (by Joyce anyway) Panglossianism: hey! faults on both sides and all that, but the betrayal and suffering experienced by - unfortunately, Patrick - you, did after all make it possible for rich Ascendancy planters to get richer! (“It was that” in sense of “It was so that.”) 25.20: “laps:” lapses 25.21: “to free:” Christiani (with a question mark) suggests Fri” to woo. Would seem to fit the context: the old man is being remembered for his ways as a “planter” with goddesses and lasses; compare Molly Bloom on Edward VII: “he might have planted me.” Although, as McHugh says, “G.O.G.” (.23) clearly refers to Gladstone, much of the language here sounds more fitting for Daniel O’Connell. 25.21: “to free was easy:” expression: free and easy 25.27-8: “Great Erinnes and Brettland:” imagined reversal of power relationship between Great Britain and Ireland: Great (or Greater: “[Great...Er])” Erin, and Britt-land. 25.29: “bung king:” slang for publican. Occurs in Henry IV, Part Two. 25.30: “That you could fell an elmstree twelve urchins couldn’t ring round:” here, the reference is surely to Gladstone: he publicly chopped down trees as proof of his vigor in old age – in this case, an elm whose trunk was so wide that twelve children, holding hands, couldn’t circle it. Echo of “Ring around the Rosie” 25.31: “hoist high the stone:” hurling the stone: ancient version of shot-putting; in “Cyclops,” considered a traditional Irish sport 25.34: “taken waters:” I don’t get it, but this pretty clearly echoes “taking the waters,” as practiced at spas by the upper-crusters of Joyce’s day. 25.35: “to lay the cable:” presumably the Atlantic Cable, enabling telegraphic communication between Britain and America. Considered here as the work of one heroic figure, a Herculean feat 25.35-6: “who was the batter could better Your Grace:” to top it off, he was a better batter than W.G. Grace, legendary cricketer. 25.36-26.1: “Mic Mac Magnus MacCawley can take you off to the pure perfection and Leatherbags Reynolds tries your shuffle and cut:” the former can imitate your mannerisms perfectly; the second is still trying to equal your devious ways – either your mastery of card-sharping or of trickery in general. 26.3: “eggynaggy and a kis to tilly up:” “Kis” as in “kish,” basket (of eggs); “tilly,” in context of eggs in “eggynaggy,” would be thirteen, instead of the prescribed dozen. Joyce entitled a collection of his poems Twelve and a Tilly. 26.4: “Buggaloffs since he went Jerusalemfaring in Arssia Manor:” “Buggaloffs” (buggers off) goes, obviously, with “Arssia Manor,” especially since Bulgaria, etymological origin of “bugger,” is in Asia Minor/Major. Conventionally, at least until late-Medieval times, a general going to Jerusalem would have been a Crusader. Although Glasheen doesn’t list it, I hear an overtone of General Bobrikoff, the Russian General in charge of the occupation of Finland, whose June 16, 1904 assassination is mentioned in “Aeolus.” As such, probably another forerunner of Russian general assassinated in II.3 26.5: “gamier cock:” perhaps obvious, given context: “cock:” penis 26.6: “geese stubbled for All Angels’ Day:” stubble goose: goose fed on stubble; traditional meal on Michaelmas (September 29), a.k.a. Feast of Michael and All Angels 26.7: “scalding tayboil:” scalding table: a raised platform on which a just-killed pig’s carcass is placed to be soaked in boiling water. Likely version of boiling tea (tay): compare 115.4, 455.36, 456.1. 26.8: “Liffey that’s in Heaven!:” Our Father who art in Heaven 26.9: “Hep, hep, hurrah there!:” Hip, hip, hooray! 26.9-10: “Seven times thereto we salute you:” I suggest that the “three” nested in “thereto,” times seven, equals the traditional twenty-one gun salute. Also, given Roman context, a gladiator's "We who are about to die salute you." 26.10: “bag of kits:” kit bag: military knapsack; usage common in WW I 26.10: “falconplumes and jackboots:” a variant of FW’s cap-a-pie motif: from the plume on the helmet on the head to the boots on the feet. Google Books shows numerous occurrences of falcon plumes, almost always as warrior’s ornaments. 26.11-2: “Your heart is in the system of the Shewolf:” long shot: I suggest that the “Shewolf” is Luperca, nurse of Romulus and Remus, that the “system” is therefore Rome or the Roman Empire (also, taking “heart” literally, the circulatory system). Also, as noted in “Aeolus,” Daniel O’Connell’s heart is buried in Rome. That was because he was Catholic. Joyce was raised Catholic, and in some ways, despite everything, his heart remained in that Roman "system." 26.12-3: “Copricapron…cloister of Virgo:” Capricorn and Virgo: constellations, zodiacal houses; the virgin Virgo’s house is, appropriately, a cloister. 26.15: “swell:” Americanism for: very good. (Occurs once in Huckleberry Finn) 26.15-6: “The loamsome roam to Lafayette is ended:” given context, something like: The (your) long road of life is at its end. “Loamsome:” lonesome; loamy (as for a literal road); “Lafayette:” overtone of Liffey. Also, with American idioms in play, a doughboy's WW I "Lafayette, we are here." 26.17: “headboddylwatcher:” as in: watching, or watching over, the dead (the body); “watch” occurs in this sense in Huckleberry Finn. 26.18: “metherjar:” Anglo-Irish “mether: wooden drinking vessel; occurs in this sense in “Cyclops.” Also, “jar” is slang for a pint of stout. 26.19-20: “abramanation:” “Abram man:” a beggar who feigns madness 26.26: “holmsted:” Danish holm sted: island place 26.27: “The horn for breakfast:” a croissant 26.27-8: “The horn for breakfast, one o’gong for lunch and dinnerchime:” different signals – horn, gong, chime – announcing breakfast, lunch, dinner; lunch is at one p.m. 26.29-30: : “the same slop show in the window:” that is, the shop’s display window. See note to 78.12-3. The Mullingar House was also a kind of general store, selling merchandise as well as liquor. 26.32: “Coal’s short but we’ve plenty of bog in the yard:” that is, we’re almost out of coal but can still make a fire with the peat cut out of the bog. 26.35: “spelling beesknees:” spelling bee(s); also, ironically, probably a misspelling of “business” 26.35-6: “tables by mudapplication:” Egyptian tablets were made from mud. (In the lessons chapter (II.2), the geometry lesson begins with a “mugfull of mud” (286.31).) 26.36-27.1: “never pegging smashers after Tom Bowe Glassarse:” they keep to their studies instead of getting into trouble by, for instance, throwing rocks at windows and/or other children. (In fact there will be a rock-throwing, window-smashing incident, in which the boys are involved, at the end of the next chapter.) “Glassarse” is probably by analogy to a boxer’s “glass jaw.” 27.1: “Timmy the Tosser:” that is, of rocks 27.2-3: “doublejoynted janitor:” doubly-joyed (pro)genitor, because of the birth of two sons. (Joyce's Notebook VI.B.145: "great joy - twins.") Also, “janitor” = Janus = door-keeper = porter = Porter, the family’s father 27.4-5: “when the ritehand seizes what the lovearm knows:” probably allusion to Claddagh ring: two hands coming together. Often associated with the twins. One tradition has a Joyce as the initator. 27.7: “postman’s knock:” adolescent kissing game 27.7: “the diggings:” the digs: the premises 27.7: “if the seep were milk:” Koranic verse: “If the sea were ink [for writing] the words of my Lord, the sea would be exhausted before the words of My Lord were exhausted.” Perhaps the basis of the Irish air to which, as McHugh notes, Moore set his poem “Lay His Sword by His Side.” 27.8: “lieve his olde:” leave Isolde 27.9: “tarandtan:” Black and Tan. (Tar is black.) 27.9: “plaidboy:” playboy. Also, as in “Circe,” plaid signifies Scotland: goes with “tartan” in “tarandtan.” Then as now, a “playboy” was an irresponsible, sexually promiscuous young man. 27.10: “making encostive inkum out of the last of his lavings:” some household recipes for ink included human urine. (This seems to pick up from “if the seep were milk” (.7): urine seeping through the child’s diapers or pants.) Also, “lavings:” the last leavings of the wash: bathwater 27.10-1: “writing a blue streak:” expression: to talk a blue streak, that is, endlessly. Perhaps also forecasting the blueness – indecency – of Joyce’s “Blue Book of Eccles” (179.27), Ulysses. FW, with its doubling-back last page, would qualify in a different way. 27.13: “tourch of ivy:” touch of ivy – green – added to the white and gold (liturgical colors for Christmas). Also, ivy as evergreen emblem of Christmas (“Holly” and “Merry,” as in “Merry Christmas,” will follow at .15.) – “Felix Day” (.13): Christ as resurrected phoenix (see 24.11 and note, above) and as redeemer of Augustine’s “felix culpa.” 27.14: “Essie Shanahan has let down her skirts:” in several novels found on Google Books, a girl “lets down her skirts” (and, sometimes, “puts up her hair”) on entering adulthood. The male equivalent would be long pants. 27.18: “poster those pouters:” stick up posters of those (pouting) lips of hers 27.19: “rep:” reputation, probably with innuendo of “demirep:” woman of questionable chastity 27.19: “Lanner’s:” Katti Lanner died in 1908. Given FW’s probable time frame, it’s unlikely that the woman here is supposed to have danced with her or her company. Wikipedia reports that Lanner, though a classical ballerina, had to make concessions to music hall tastes when she moved to London; some of the titles of her late-century shows (“Round the Town,” “On Brighton Pier”) certainly sound oriented toward popular taste; so does the glimpse we get here of the performance. In “Circe,” the dancing master Maginni instructs a student in “The Katti Lanner steps.” 27.24-5: “It’s our warm spirits, boys, he’s spooring. Dimitrius O’Flagonan, cork that cure for the Clancartys!:” in a scenario based on the song “Finnegan’s Wake,” smelling the whiskey (spirits) - on their breaths, from their containers - is rousing him back to life: the last thing anyone wants. So one of the party is ordered to cork up his bottle. 27.26: “to float the Pomeroy:” I can’t find one listed, but “the Pomeroy” here is pretty clearly a ship: he’s drunk enough whiskey to float one. 27.28: “lumbos. Where misties swaddlum:” compare 602.28: “misty Londan” (London), a common expression until the 1960s. The mist is swaddling/swallowing up the scene. 27.31: “I've an eye on queer Behand and old Kate and the butter:” servants were sometimes suspected of stealing and selling items from the larder, for instance butter. An example from Great Expectations: “`Here's the cook lying insensibly drunk on the kitchen floor, with a large bundle of fresh butter made up in the cupboard ready to sell for grease!'” 27.32: “her war souvenir postcards:” compare Kate as post-battle profiteer, 8.8-10.23. Thackeray’s Vanity Fair describes hucksters selling battle souvenirs to families of soldiers killed at Waterloo. 27.33-4: “Assure a sure:” As sure as sure 27.36: “shed your remnants:” given context, "remnants" is a joke word for "raiments," with a queasy overtone of "remains." Source is Huckleberry Finn, where the phrase means "shed your coat." 27.36: “The sternwheel’s crawling along:” given that this comes from (again) a Huckleberry Finn account of a Mississippi riverboat, perhaps an echo of “Old Man River:” “He just keeps rolling along.” Compare 363.10-1. 28.2-4: “You storyan Harry chap longa me Harry chap storyan grass women plelthy good trout:” This has been identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Breslau (Genetic Joyce Studies, 2021) as South Seas pidgin English. "Harry" = trader, store-keeper. "Grass woman" = white man. "plelthy good" = plenty good enough. Joyce got it from a passage in the book Isles of Illusion describing a native fishing with a bow and arrow. Other excerpts occur intermittently throughout FW, usually, as here, when there is reason to think that normal communication has broken down - in this case because the living are trying to talk to the (recently) dead. 28.3: “Harry chap:” compare “Lestrygonians:” “Boylan is a hairy chap,” meaning shrewd, sly. Also, 425.34: “I am altogether a chap too fly and hairyman,” “fly” here meaning: up to anyone’s tricks. Perhaps also a reference to Jacob, who tricked Isaac by pretending to be his brother, the “hairy man” Esau. 28.3: “grass woman:” a grass widow is a woman whose husband is often away; the innuendo is that she is therefore available to other men. (As McHugh notes, Guinevere is mentioned on .1.) 28.5-6: “Boald Tib does be yawning and smirking cat’s hours:” Tib is the household’s cat. (There doesn't seem to be a household dog.) “Cat’s hours” sounds like a variant on “donkey’s years” (14.35), a very long time. 28.7: “the tailor’s daughter:” for the young ALP as a tailor’s daughter, see 624.28-30, 626.9. 28.7-8: “stitch to her last:” stitch to the last: a direction in crocheting 28.8-9: “Or while waiting for winter to fire the enchantement, decoying more nesters to fall down the flue:” once winter comes, the cat expects birds to be lured to her, down the chimney because of the fire’s warmth and light. Also, “nesters” = Nestors, old men attracted to young women, as moths to flame. See next entry. 28.9-10: “It’s an allavalonche that blows nopussy food:” a torrent of birds, avalanche-like, being blown down the chimney, winding up as the cat’s – pussy’s – food 28.11: “talk to her nice of guldenselver:” gold and silver: ALP cherishes the memory of her first meeting with her husband-to-be: he called her Goldilocks and said she had a lovely face for the stage (615.23). Also, he promised her riches. Perhaps also golden and silver anniversaries 28.11-2: “The lips would moisten:” vaginal labia as well as mouth 28.12-5: ”As when you drove with her to Findrinny Fair…she never knew was she on land or sea or swooped through the air:” which perhaps helps to explain one of ALP’s last memories: “Carry me along, taddy, like you done through the toy fair!” (628.9-10) 28.14-5: “or at sea:” as in “all at sea:” completely disoriented 28.16-7: “second a song:” to back up the main singer – for instance, a baritone seconds a bass 28.17: “last post:” besides military sense (McHugh), the last mail delivery of the day 28.18-9: “forty winks for supper:” postprandial nap. See next entry. 28.20: assotted:” besotted: stupefied or sleepy after supper 28.20-1: “To see is it smarts, full lengths, or swaggers:” she’s reading the fashion news; “smart,” in this context, means stylish. 28.22: “fellah in Fez:” a fella wearing a fez 28.23: “Stella Star with her lucky in goingaways:” she’s still a (movie) star. Her lucky guy – i.e. fiancé. Gangway: they’ve been photographed, going away, on the gangway of their honeymoon cruise. This item surely comes from the newspaper’s Society page. 28.24-5: “Ding Tams he noise about all same Harry chap:” back to the stage-Chinese (cf. 2-4), along with “Harry chap,” but this time at least there’s a cue: the news item about the “China floods” (.24). 28.25: “noise:” knows 28.25: “She’s seeking her way:” to see one’s way: to make out the right course, despite confusing circumstances 28.25-6: “a chickle a chuckle, in and out of their serial story:” publications of the time, including newspapers, often featured serialized fiction. Here she’s reading through the story’s twists and turns, sometimes chuckling, in a fashion that may recall FW’s hen, pecking up grain; hence, I suggest, “serial” as also “cereal.” 28.28: “bluebells:” (champagne) bubbles; also, a garden flower, here “blowing” in the sense of blossoming 28.30: “silver ash or switches:” Bad-children Christmas-stocking rewards. (Silver ash shows up on Google Books as a high-class kind of coal.) Also, no gray in her hair yet 28.35-6: “For, be that samesake sibsubstitute of a hooky salmon, there’s already a big rody ram lad at random on the premises:” compare the "-ram" in “Tristram” (.4); it has been suggested, I believe first by Nat Halper, that astrologically this signals Aries, the ram, supplanting its predecessor Pisces, the fish, on March 21. 29.1: “haunt of the hungred bordles:” possible allusion to song “a hundred bottles of beer on the wall.” Generally considered to have originated mid-20th century, but Google Books shows that it was familiar in some circles during the years FW was written. 29.2: “flourishing like a…buaboabaybohm:” expression: flourishing like a green bay tree; possible echo of Buddha’s bhodi tree 29.2-3: “litting flop a deadlop:” given context, and pairing with “bennbranch,” dead wood: a dead branch being lopped off (and flopping down to the ground). “Litting:” letting. Also, compare “Calypso:” “flop and fall of dung:” he’s defecating on the “lee” side, urinating on the “breezy side,” hence “(for showm!)” (.4), for shame! 29.3: “yardalong:”given sailing instructions (same line: “to lee”), yardarm 29.3: “yardalong (ivoeh!):” Ardilaun in County Galway is an island near the Guinness family estates; Iveagh, County Down, is a home of the Guinness family. 29.4-5: “the height of Brewster’s chimpney:” the chimney of the Guinness Brewery. In “Ithaca,” it is recalled that in a high school (literal) pissing context, Leopold Bloom had attained the “greatest altitude.” 29.5: “chimpney:” “Chimpden” is HCE’s middle name. 29.5: “as broad below as Phineas Barnum:” photographs of Barnum show some rotundity, though nothing spectacular. 29.5-6: “humphing:” “Humphrey” is HCE’s first name. 29.8: “midgit:” again, Issy’s signature: two i’s 29.8: “pucelle:” French for flea. Barnum sideshows included a flea circus. 29.10: “fourfootlers:” perhaps the two girls in the park, with their total of four feet 29.11: “weep the clouds aboon for smiledown witnesses:” with the clouds above for witnesses, smiling down on us; meaning is something on the order of “as God is my witness.” Also, see next entry. 29.14: “zoom:” at the time, meant to fly an airplane at great speed for a short distance 29.18: “Mapqiq:” Macheath of The Beggar’s Opera, here counterpointed with (“sherif” (.17)), sheriff 29.20-1: “paroqial fermament:” ferme is French for farm. 29.21: “one tide on another:” expression: one time or another 29.24: “waxenwench:” a wench, waxing - growing or grown up 29.24: “deadsea dugong:” Aquatic life, including dugongs (known in America as manatees), cannot survive in the Dead Sea. 29.26: “like a fishmummer:” like a fishwife: incessantly yelling and hectoring 29.26: “siktyten:” probably sixteen as well as seventy 29.27: “growing hoarish under his turban:” as in “hoar frost:” his hair is growing whiter with age 29.29: “bulkihood:” FW’s descriptions of HCE often have him being overweight. Also, a collision bulkhead, of the kind mentioned in “Eumaeus,” is the front of a ship or boat, reinforced and sealed off in case of collision. 29.29: “bloats:” boasts, bloatingly; perhaps also (see note above) boats, as verb 29.30: “old offender:” legal term for repeat offender, something like “three-time loser;” can also apply figuratively to any incorrigible behavior 29.30: “ensectuous:” overtone: insect. An earwig is an insect. (Compare 414.26-7.) 29.32: “lashons of languages:” lashings:” Irish idiom for a great, perhaps extravagant supply 29.32: “honnein suit:” honey sweet 29.34: “sober serious:” that is, all kidding aside 29.34: “he is ee and no counter he:” like Popeye’s "I am what I am:” he is he and no doubt about it, he. “Ee:” E is HCE’s siglum.
1 Comment
Preliminary note: about the last half of this chapter resembles the children’s game sometimes called “Telephone,” in which one person in a circle whispers something into the ear of a neighbor, who then whispers it to their neighbor, etc., until the message comes back round to the original source, usually in unrecognizable form, sometimes insulting or scandalous - from, for instance, "Mary is having a baby" to "Mary has rabies."
30.01: “Iris Trees and Lily O’Rangans:” if the latter name counts as (rough) echo of Lily Langtry, these are both actresses with scandalous reputations. (Echo of “Tree” in “Langtry” may nudge the connection along.) 30.2: “Harold or Humphrey:” for a while (e.g. “Haromphreyld” (31.8-9)) some confusion persists as to which is the first name. The king, not coincidentally, is related to “William the Conk” (31.14), and Harold/Humphrey is “hasting” (30.22-3), as in Battle of Hastings, to meet him. 30.8: “offsprout:” offspring 30.10: “Earwickers:” this is perhaps as good a place as any to note that in Yorkshire dialect “wick” means alive. Also to suggest that “wicker” echoes wicket, a.k.a. door, a.k.a. port, so that with some allowance “Earwicker” may be read as a reshuffling of “Porter.” Your annotator believes that the name of the FW family is Porter, as identified in FW III.3. In that regard, the following observations: 1. A porter is someone stationed at a door. All three of the set pieces of I.1 – Waterloo, Mutt and Jute, the Prankquean story – are about door-crossings: crossing the threshold into the “museyroom;” stepping over the “fire defenses” (16.2) of Jute’s cave; determining whether or not the Jarl’s door is to be closed or open. 2. The male principal of I.2 is introduced as a turnpike keeper. A turnpike keeper is a porter. 3. “Porter” is one of those names, like Miller or Tailor, presumably once derived from some person’s or family’s occupation: an individual might be named Porter because he was a turnpike keeper. This kind of “nominigentilisation” (31.34) is mimicked in I.2: Earwicker gets his name because a person of influence, the king, once happened upon him catching earwigs. But before that, he was, by rights of his occupation, a porter. Farther back still, he may have been something else – but the indications are that Porter preceded Earwicker. Joyce was always fascinated by such etymological permutations (Virag to Bloom to (Henry) Flower, for instance), especially, I think, in this chapter. See, for instance, the next entry. 4. As George C. Gibson has documented (Wake Rites: The Ancient Irish Rituals of Finnegans Wake, University Press of Florida, 2005), Druidical equinoctial rituals featured a personage designated as “Porter,” poised between this world and the next. 5. Too many FW names to enumerate can be, circuitously or not, traced to Porter – for one the antagonist “Hosty,” of this chapter, from “Ostiarius,” porter. 6. Book III begins with the downstream course of a barrel of porter. 30.12-3: “cabbaging Cincinnatus:” according to tradition, Cincinnatus was “working among his cabbages” when summoned to battle. 30.12: “in the beginning:” as a commentary on the Pentateuch, the Talmud (“Dumlat” (.10)), would include these words from Genesis. 30.13: “saving daylight:” Daylight Savings, sometimes called “Saving Daylight,” was instituted in Joyce’s time. 30.18: “dogfox:” male fox 30.21: “stayed not to yoke or saddle:” that is, he didn’t take the time to harness and saddle up a horse, in order to meet the king on horseback. 30.22: “pocketcoat:” coat pocket 30.23: “forecourts of his public:” forecourt: enclosed space in front of a building, in this case a pub 30.24: “bulldog boots:” canvas-top shoes with rope soles 31.1: “fixed pikes:” the military term “fixed pike” occurs in Sir Thomas Browne’s “Garden of Cyrus,” which Joyce probably read. It comes from an account of Macedonian battle formations. 31.2: “the hunting party:” a hunting party? With a leisurely fox followed at walking pace by a “lady pack of cocker spaniels?” (Cocker spaniels can be used to retrieve birds, but not to hunt foxes.) And “fixed pikes?” Perhaps this was how things were “in prefall paradise peace” (.15), when the lion could lie down with the lamb, the fox with the dogs. 31.2-3: “a high perch atop of which a flowerpot was fixed earthside hoist with care:” the principle of the earwig trap is similar to that of lobster traps (hence, perhaps, the “noticeably longsighted” king’s fuzzy equation of earwig-trapping and “Lobstertrapping” (.8)): earwigs climb up a pole and crawl into a container from which there is no escape. (Both earwigs and lobsters are crustaceans, and with a little leeway one looks like a (very) enlarged version of the other.) “Earthside:” when the earwigs are caught, the pot - the “earthside” - is knocked against the ground and the shaken-out earwigs killed. (See next entry.) Here the earthside is still being hoisted aloft. It may be pertinent that in most available Google Images illustrations, the pot is bell-shaped, so that the whole contraption resembles a big mushroom on a stick. (Also, some flower pots are rounded at the base.) See 315.17-8, where we seem to be getting another look: “A stickup in his hand…it had a mushroom on it.” Also, “Earthside hoist with care:” echo of “sunny side up with care” (12.15). 31.6: “thus potholed:” as produced, for instance, by knocking the mouth of an earwig trap, whether flowerpot-shaped or bell-shaped, against the earth – again, as perceived by a king with faulty vision 31.7: “paternosters and silver doctors:” bait for fishing, not lobstering. The king’s muzziness continues. 31.8: “fancied bait:” “fancy bait:” fisherman’s term, usually derogatory; apparently an over-fussy lure 31.14: “William the Conk:” “conk” is 19th century slang for “nose.” The Duke of Wellington, because of his prominent nose, was often called “Old Conky.” Compare 595.30: “conk a dook.” 31.15-6: "had inherited...some shortfingeredness from his greataunt Sophy:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.16.145 includes an entry from an obituary for Sophie Lyons, expert "burglaress." I suggest that "shortfingeredness" echoes "light-fingered." 31.15: “hereditary whitelock:” an inherited white forelock can be a sign of hereditary deafness, partial or total. Question: is the king’s hearing impaired, as well as his sight? Is it the turnpike-keeper’s accent, or the king’s hearing, that turns “earwigs” into “earwuggers” (.11), thus contributing to “earwigger” (.28)? 31.21-2: “Canmakenoise:” Clonmacnoise, in central Ireland; site of ruins 31.22: “triptychal religious:” a religious tryptic: the king at center, flanked on either side by his two attendants 31.24: “paddish preties:” Irish (Paddy-ish) beauties (pretties); potatoes (praties) 31.25-6: "Pouringraina:" besides (as in McHugh) Pomerania and pouring rain, Earwicker is a publican whose business is pouring grain - as beer, etc. - for customers. 31.28: “for he kinned Jom Pill:” apparently the king, part of a (sort of) hunting party, sees (kens) the just-named Earwicker as a fellow (kinned) hunter, a version of John Peel. Once again, his questionable vision, perhaps along with his drink (not, in all probability, really ("adamale" (.12), Adam's ale, water) contributes. 31.32: “cladstone:” stone clad (with moss): a McHugh notes, the passage echoes “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” As Gladstone, famous for vigorously chopping down trees, the natural enemy of “the roadside tree” (.31) 31.33-4: “nominigentilisation:” “gentilise:” to invest with the character and/or status of a gentleman 31.36-32.1: “No dung on the road?:” Long shot: a local version of the Americanism “No shit?” – that is, you’re not kidding me? 32.2: “kingable khan:” William Spooner’s most famous Spoonerism: “kinqueable congs” for “conquering kings.” (“Khan” means king.) 32.3: “cumsceptres:” consenters – perhaps seeking a “alicence” (.3), a marriage license 32.4-6: “son of Hokmah…ascend:” the kabbalic Hokmah occupies a position on the vertical scale of the Sephiroth, may hope to ascend to ultimate enlightenment 32.4-5: “metheg in your midness:” if you’ve drunk a certain quantity of metheglin, you have it in your midness, your stomach, and it may be inducing a state close to madness. 32.6: “as puny as finicking:” as Punic as Phoenician: the two words refer to the same people. 32.9-10: “came down into the world:” expression: came down in the world: declined in status 32.11-2: "the two pitts paythronosed:" as in theatre or production promotion: As patronized by Both Pitts - the two Thomas Pitts, Older and Younger 32.11: "two pitts:” pit: the recessed area closest to the stage. See 33.9-10: “pit stalls.” 32.12: “snorler:” Yiddish “shnorrer,” a beggar or bum 32.14: “Haromphrey:” again: hesitation between Harold and Humphrey 32.16: “Chimbers:” again: some confusion about the second name, usually Chimpden 32.29: “Semperkelly’s immergreen:” that is, Evergreen’s evergreen. Kelly green: American name for a certain shade of green, so called because Kelly was a popular Irish-American name. First appearance of the term was in 1917 32.31: “homedromed:” a stretch, but given “all horserie show” (.35), this may accommodate hippodrome as well as hundred and humdrum. 32.32: “problem passion play:” “problem play” designates either one of Shakespeare’s hard-to-classify productions, for instance Measure for Measure, or the innovatively realistic 19th century plays of, among others, Ibsen. “Passion plays” depict the suffering and crucifixion of Christ. 32.32: “running strong since creation: “has been steadily drawing large audiences since the beginning of time. Not really all that hyperbolic: A Royal Divorce, a perennial for almost thirty years, was, in its time, the most durable play of the Dublin theatre scene. 32.33: "A Royal Divorce:" was in fact a popular play of Joyce’s youth, enough so that one might consider a new production humdrum (.31). It is about Napoleon’s reasons-of-state divorce of Josephine and marriage to Marie-Louise of Austria. Productions featured a rendition of the Battle of Waterloo, with special effects including Pepper’s ghost (460.6) and a big white horse (8.21); the two come together at 214.16. 32.36: “command night:” night of a command performance at behest of royalty, nobility, or governing authority; in Dublin such performances were held for the (“viceregal” (.36)) vice regent, the king’s representative in Ireland. There was in fact such a command performance, with the vice regent in attendance, on the weekend following the play’s Dublin opening. 32.36: "viceregal booth:" before the Phoenix Park's Viceregal Lodge, Chapelizod was the Viceroy's country residence. 33.1-2: “a cuckoospit less eminent than the redritualhoods of Maccabe and Cullen:” as local head of state, his position is only slightly less exalted than that of the local head of the church. Perhaps an echo of “cockpit,” theatrical term for the ground-floor pit. "Cuckoospit" here designates a very small degree of difference. 33.2: “Napoleon the Nth:” beginning as a mathematical term, by the time of FW “nth degree” had come to be a hyperbolic expression for anything absolute or endless. Also, Napoleon’s imperial emblem was a capital N. Also, the (proclaimed) succession establishing the Second Empire went from Napoleon I to Napoleon III, skipping but acknowledging the first Napoleon’s chosen heir, who had died. In the 1911 Dublin production, the role of Napoleon was taken by his great-grandson, Juan Buonoparte, said to strikingly resemble his ancestor. 33.3: “practical jokepiece and retired cecelticocommediant:” practical joke. Also, Napoleon III was widely considered to be something of a mountebank, a pretend emperor. As one courtier later said of his regime, “It wasn’t a real empire, you know, but we did have wonderful parties.” 33.9-10: “clawhammers and marbletopped highboys of the pit stalls:” “Clawhammers,” a Dublin expression for, roughly, dolts; in this sense, would seem to go with “marbletopped highboys,” i.e. blockheads. “Clawhammer coats” were swallowtail coats (.8), so named because of the supposed resemblance of the tails to the claws of a hammer. Pit stalls were medium-priced seats located between stalls and pit; contemporary accounts describe them as occupied by “regular workers,” as opposed to either gentry or hoi-polloi; their occupants were not expected to dress up but sometimes did. Gist: although HCE and the pit stall dwellers may both be dressed formally, in white tie, the quality of the former’s linen is “far outstarching” (.8) the “laundered clawhammers” (.9) of the latter; any such formal getup would presumably need to be starched as well as washed. During Joyce’s time and earlier, the quality of one’s linen was, for men, a major class signifier. 33.11-2: “Ladies circle: cloaks may be left:” although “Ladies circle” is not a theatrical term, a “Dress Circle,” the first tier of the balcony, in which theatre-goers were expected to dress formally, would presumably be restricted to ladies and gentlemen. That “cloaks may be left” probably means that customers in this upscale company need not worry about anyone around them stealing their effects. More conventionally, it is part of an announcement to the effect that outerwear may be left off in the cloak room. 33.12: “prommer:” someone attending one of London’s annual musical proms, begun in 1895; usually indicates a standee 33.16: “wisecrackers:” wiseacres; also, to crack wise is to say something impertinent. 33.16: “Moharat:” Mohammed 33.18: “unmanner:” unman 33.23-4: “every enormity in the calendar:” expression: “every crime in the Newgate Calendar;” appears twice in Dickens (Oliver Twist, Our Mutual Friend) and elsewhere; compare “all the sinkts in the colander” (432.35-6), which combines saints and sins (also sinks, to go with the colander), the former from the liturgical calendar. 33.36: “stambuling:" stumbling 34.2: “topantically:” totally; from Greek to pan: all whole 34.3: “(let us hue him…:” as in hue and cry: let us shout out his name 34.4: “watch warriors:” Watch and Ward, a Boston censorship organization similar to Ireland’s "vigilance committee" (.4) 34.5: “Ibid:” mock imitation of Muslim name, for instance Ibn 34.6:” “sulhan sated:” sulh: Gaelic for sensual pleasure; sultans are proverbially thus sated (harem, etc.), are also often depicted as solemnly seated, cross-legged. 34.7: “(pfiat! pfiat!):” fiat: Latin: let there be 34.9: “blondy:” bloody 34.10: ”narked place:” probable allusion to Noah (along with ark), seen naked by his sons, especially Ham. 34.11: “cabful of bash:” given food strain here, calipash: along with calipee, edible part of turtle. A fashionable delicacy in its time. See next entry. 34.12: “homeur:” lobster 34.16: “chin Ted, Chin Tam, chinchin Taffyd:” the three observing soldiers. Also, more pseudo-Chinese – the reason eludes me. “Tam,” as in “Tam o Shanter” and “Taffyd,” as in “Taffy was a Welshman,” may signal a Scotsman and a Welshman; in the Waterloo sequence of I.1 the three soldiers were English, Scots, and Welsh. 34.20: “the rushy hollow:” The Hollow, in Phoenix Park, situated opposite the main entrance to the zoo 34.21-2: “dame nature in all innocency had spontaneously and about the same hour of the eventide sent them:” compare “Nature calls,” a jokey euphemism for visiting the toilet. 34.23: “combinations:” see next entry. In “Circe,” combinations” are women’s underwear. 34.23: “silkinlaine:” Google Books shows several instances of “silk lane,” a kind of elegant fabric 34.26: “wildest:” Wilde: father and son, a name synonymous with sexual scandal 34.28-9: “Saint Swithin’s summer:” Saint Swithin’s Day is July 15. 34.30: “We can’t do without them:” Common saying about women: “Can’t live with them; can’t live without them.” Attributed to Erasmus, among others 34.30-1: “Ofman will toman:” woman, as Eve born “of man,” will run to his aid. (Throughout FW, ALP defends her husband against accusations.) 34.33-4: “malers abushed, keep black:” blackmailers, waiting in ambush; variants of “bush” and “ambush” are frequently associated with the soldiers in the park. Also, blackmail, which in FW is sometimes identified with a letter, delivered in the ("malers") mail. 35.3: “happygogusty Ides-of-April morning:” happy-go-lucky: contemporary American expression for cheery insouciance. “Lucky” echo may be ironic since, as McHugh notes, the Ides of April fell on the 13th. (And of course, “Ides of” recalls Caesar’s assassination.) April is proverbially the gustiest of the months: compare .7 and note. 35.4-5: “rights in appurtenance:” rights and appurtenances: common phrase in British legal documents, such as grants and deeds 35.7: “was billowing:” presumably because of the gusty weather 35.11: “cad with a pipe:” echoes Hamlet’s “cap a pie” – head to foot - Horatio’s description of the ghost. A major FW motif 35.12: “dagabout:” gadabout 35.13-4: “overgoat under his schulder, sheepside out:” sheep and goats – another frequent FW theme. “Overgoat” would presumably be mohair. Margot Norris, in The Decentered Universe of Finnegans Wake, (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976) p. 59:: "The coat worn sheepside out to look more like the hirsute, country-boy Esau is, of course, the ploy used by Jacob to impersonate his brother" and "makes the cad something of a wolf in sheep's clothing." 35.17: “oddaisers:” oldsters 35.18: “how much o clock it was:” 1. Ellmann (1984), p. 555: "When the cad with a pipe asks him the time, he replies that it is 12 noon...The question and answer are homosexual argot (so used in Jean Genet's Journal du voleur), the question being tantamount to a proposition, the answer (denoting erection) to consent." ("Pipe" can sometimes be slang for penis: compare, for instance, 411.10-11 and note.) The problem here is, it really was twelve o’clock, thus raising the perennial “safe word” dilemma. (Compare “throw it away” in Ulysses.) 2. Speaking of codes, after 1798 public houses were required to display clocks, with the result that anyone wanting a drink would often just say that he wanted to find out the time. Pub clocks were habitually set a few minutes ahead in order to minimize any chance of serving drinks after hours. 35.20: “bradys:” probably resulting from a projection of the frightened HCE onto the word “broken.” Joe Brady, as McHugh notes, was one of the Phoenix Park murderers; the scene is set in Phoenix Park and the man is addressing him in Gaelic, which at the time could indicate nationalist or ultranationalist sympathies; in “Circe” Bloom, imagining that he is being addressed in Gaelic, takes it as a threat coming from his Gaelic Athletic Association antagonist, the citizen. 35.21: “spurring instant:” expression: spur of the moment 35.26: “quick on the draw:” language of American westerns; goes with “gunpocket” (.27) 35.27: “tipstaff:” later version of his “roadstaff” (.7) 35.28: “waterbury:” Waterbury watches were cheap, not as reliable as more expensive kinds 35.29: “usucapture:” usucaption: ownership by virtue of long possession; in this sense the opposite of “communionism” (.28) 35.34: “tankard:” standard 35.35: “copperstick:” later version of “roadstaff,” “tipstaff.” According to Google Books, implements by this name, obviously of a different size and type, occur sometimes in the context of laundry – stirring a tub of clothes – but much more often in the context of eye operations. 35.36-36.1: “chapstuck ginger:” ginger comes in sticks. Chewing ginger (“chawchaw” (36.2-3)) is recommended for various purposes, including sweetening the breath (here heavy with the smell of smoked sardines). “Chaps” can mean lips. 36.1-2: ”sours, acids, salts, sweets, bitters:” most contemporary descriptions of the tongue say it can detect four flavors – sour, salt, sweet, and bitter; the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica also includes “acid.” 36.10: “rhythmics:” capitalized, a free-dance exercise popular in the 1920’s; here seems to go with Marcel Jousse’s teachings on expressive “gestes.” 36.13:” flaxen Gygas:” this chapter’s second indication, along with “blondy” (34.9), that HCE is fair-haired. O Hehir notes that Gigas means giant in Greek and Latin (see 37.1-2), and that King Gyges had a “ring of invisibility.” 36.15-6: “with one Berliner gauntlet chopstuck in the hough of his ellboge:” because of their cheapness (as compared with leather gloves), Berlin gloves were considered low-class. In Thackeray’s Pendennis, the narrator speaks scornfully of waiters “in creaking shoes and Berlin gloves;” one such character wears a Berlin glove “stuck in his belt side.” Here, it may be that he has stuffed the glove up his sleeve, as men sometimes did with handkerchiefs, and that part of it is hanging out. In George Selby's Boots at the Swan, excerpted in Joyce's Notebook VI.B.2.026, a servant says that he can spot pretend gentlemen if they "sports Berlins - or policemen's as I calls em, 'cos the blues wears em." 36.19: “fellow to his gage:” “Gage” can mean a glove thrown down in token of a pledge; here it is his pointing hand that is the “fellow” to the “Berliner gauntlet” (.15-6). (See OED “fellow,” 2.d.) 36.19: “rendypresent pause:” pregnant pause 36.20-1: “Me only, them five ones, he is equal combat:” Nathan Halper points out that In A Farewell to Arms (Hemingway sent Joyce a copy), “five against one” means masturbation – five fingers against one penis. The book probably appeared too late to account for the entry here, but the Hemingway passage suggests that the expression had been around for a while. (Off-color language is generally hard to date.) 36.23-9: "I am woo-woo willing to take my stand, sir, upon the monument...High Church of England:" until 1831, London's "Monument" to the Great Fire of 1666 blamed the fire on Catholics and their plot for "extirpating the Protestant religion and old English liberty." 36.26: “get life:” be sentenced to life in prison 36.29: “High Church:” in Anglican communion, the branch which retains much of the traditional liturgy and ceremony of Roman Catholicism. 36.35: “mate…checkself:” chess: mate and check; earlier there was “Bishop” (.28). 37.1: “postpuberal hypertituitary type of Heidelberg mannleich:” hyperpituitary because gigantic: according to fossil records many “Heidelberg men” were over seven feet tall. “Postpuberal” because growth through puberty is controlled by pituitary gland. 37.2: “slopingforward:” on the one hand, a kepi (35.8) typically slopes forward. On the other hand, when last seen it was HCE, not the cad, who was wearing one. 37.5-6: “guilders received:” at what point? Although the encounter could quite plausibly result in HCE’s, from fear of assault or blackmail, handing over money, I can’t locate any prior indication of that happening. 37.8: “Tyskminister:” Westminster. Both here and at 36.27 (see McHugh), the great task Master is God. 37.10-1: “hound him out had one hart to:” hound and hart: language of hunting 37.12: “snorler: schnorrer: Yiddish for beggar or sponge; an example of would be Lenehan in “Two Gallants” and Ulysses. 37.13: “I have met with you, bird, too late:” widely reported account of Joyce’s first meeting with Yeats, at which Joyce is supposed to have said, “We have met too late. You are too old for me to have any influence on you.” In his 1941 essay "James Joyce," Frank Budgen writes, "Joyce affirmed that the story was untrue and went on to instance the many occasions on which he had shown his respect and admiration for Ireland's greatest poet." Yeats also denied the story. However, in "Joyce and Yeats" (The Kenyon Review, 12, 4 (Autumn,1950, 618-38), Richard Ellmann includes Yeats's previously unpublished version, which confirms the story. “Bird:” bard. Compare .17 and note. 37.14-5: “with tag for ildiot in his secondmouth language:” with thanks for T.S. Eliot, whose “secondmouth language,” for a transplanted American like him, would be English. (Oxford editors remove "erebusqued" from 38.3-4 and place it before "with tag.") 37.14-6: “repeated...as many of the bigtimer's verbaten words which he could balbly call to memory:” the cad is committing HCE’s words, from their encounter, to memory. 37.17: “the twattering of bards in the twitterlitter:” back to Yeats and company: the Celtic Twilight school. “Twattering” combines twittering, twaddle, and (as insult) twat; “bards” (see note to .13) is birds; Yeats' poetry is conspicuously populated by birds. Birds twitter at dusk. 37.20: “Grand and Royal” canals: are or were known as after-dark lovers’ haunts. See next entry. 37.21: “softongue’s pawkytawk:” sweet-talking courter’s palaver 37.22-3: “studying castelles in the blowne:” studying castles in the blue – i.e. detecting (grandiose) shapes in the clouds a la Polonius’s “Very like a whale.” Also probably an echo of “castles in Spain.” 37.23: “studding cowshots over the noran:” cushats (pigeons, doves); the Noran Water, a stream in Scotland; traditional song “Up the Noran Water.” All in all, I suggest, a variant on the Noah-releasing-the-dove theme. Probably, also “cowshat” as past-tense of “cowshit” – in which case he is engaging in the pastoral pastime of throwing dried-out cow pies across the river. Given this scene’s proximity to the Bloomsday setting, echo of “Nora” is probably deliberate. 37.27-8: “Mr Shallwesigh or Mr Shallwelaugh:” along with the other contemporary literary lights on the page, George Bernard Shaw. As a playwright, he can do both tragedy and comedy – laugh and sigh – of a properly languid, drawing-room sort. Patronizing attitude here reflects Joyce’s own. 37.29: “belcher:” Belcher handkerchief named after Jim Belcher, prizefighter 37.31-2: “dabbed Peach Bombay:” resembles Escoffier’s dubbing a new desert “Peach Melba,” after singer Nellie Melba. A bombe is a French frozen desert. 37.32: “Lukanpukan:” puking 37.34: “balled under minnshogue’s milk:” boiled in goat’s milk. Sounds awful, but directions to this effect occur in some contemporary cookbooks 37.35: “snevel:” Danish sne, snow 37.36: “fain o’t as your rat wi’fennel:” rats are attracted to fennel, which is accordingly sometimes mixed with rat poison. 38.2-3: “with a spolish olive to middlepoint its zaynith:” in the language of some menus, “topped off” with a Spanish olive, like a maraschino cherry on a sundae 38.3-4: “erebusqued:” eructed (puked). Also, to arabesque is to ornament or decorate; compare 115.3. 38.4: “deluxiously:” deliciously deluxe 38.4: “Phenice-Bruerie ’98:" 1898 was in fact an exceptional vintage year for claret and champagne. The main idea here is that he is acting like a wine snob with bottle of stout, from (McHugh) Dublin's Phoenix Brewery. Compare next two entries. 38.5: “Piessporter:” Piesporter: light white German wine, generally with little snob appeal. Note absence of vintage year, overtone of “piss.” 38.7: “sniffed the cobwebcrusted corks:” what is called “crusted” cork is ideal for port, which is not considered at its peak until the fermentation has produced a crust. Sniffing the cork was once a sign of sophistication in matters oenological. 38.13-5: “(how faint these first vhespers womanly are, a secret pispigliando, amad the lavurdy den of their manfolker!) den:” din. Main point: women whisper, especially when sharing secrets; men bellow. Also, I think: women’s pissing is less noisy than men’s. 38.13: “vhespers:” vespers: in I.8 the washerwomen will be gossiping at sunset. 38.15: “hup a ‘ chee:” HCE 38.16-7: “he appeared a funny colour like he couldn’t stood they old hens no longer:” her “peculiar reverend” (.18) was taking on an unhealthy hue because he was getting so sick of attending on the gossipy women - the “old hens” – of his parish. Perhaps, also, hearing them in the confessional: one priest, serving as a father confessor to a convent, was known to compare it to "being pecked to death by sparrows." 38.20: “jist a timblespoon!:” having tea, requesting either just a thimble of cream or just a tablespoon – or possibly a thimble quantity in a teaspoon - of sugar. Either way, and given Joyce’s lifelong suspicion of priests consorting with the women of their parish, it is probably relevant that, conventionally, the average ejaculation amounts to about a teaspoon. 38.21: “cuppled lips:” lips with teacup held to them, lips coupled in sense of pressed firmly together 38.21: “mighshe:” might she 38.23: “teatoastally:” at tea; totally; teetotally (no alcoholic drinks); toast is often served with afternoon tea. 38.25: “venitas!:” “vanitas:” Latin for vanity 38.29: “the ruah of Ecclectiastes of Hippo outpuffs the writress of Havvah-ban-Annah:” there has been some erudite commentary on this passage, including David Goodwin, who reads “Havva-ban-Annah” as Hebrew for “Eve, son of Anne” (in “Proteus” Stephen has Eve as “Heva”), and Brendan O Hehir, who reads “ban” as Gaelic bean (pronounced “ban”), woman. “Outpuffs” suggests that Saint Augustine (of Hippo) has out-proselytized some wicked or wrongheaded woman, a “writress,” on the philosophical-theological issue of what constitutes an accident, probably as opposed to substance or essence. Leo Knuth points out that havvah is also Hebrew for serpent. To puff something, as in “Aeolus,” was to publicize or proselytize on its behalf. 38.31: “pianissime:” pianissimo: musical direction: very quiet 38.32: “but for Jesuphine’s sake!:” for Jesus’ sake! “But for” indicates hesitation: she’d tell her if it weren’t for her scruples about 1. the Josephine of A Royal Divorce, and 2. Jesus. Still, tell her she does. 38.33: “bravor!:” brother 38.33 “fraur!:” German frau: wife 38.35: “layteacher:” lay teacher: a teacher at a Catholic school who, though a member of the church, is not in a religious order. 39.1-2: “priestly flutter for safe and sane bets at the hippic runfields of breezy Baldoyle:” “flutter” is slang for an occasional bet. Since Thurston is in the laity, the bettor here should be Browne/Nolan of 38.26, 28. There is a long tradition of Irish priests attending and betting on horse races, and sometimes the commentary has been disapproving. According to the book Bishop Doyle, by Michael MacDonough (London: 1896, pp. 37-8), Ireland’s Bishop Doyle prohibited “his priests from appearing at hunts and horse races and other public amusements.” “Many were slow to the strict discipline in these and other matters.” An Item in the March 27, 1925 Irish Times makes note of a report in the Catholic Herald that the “hierarchy” is concerned at reports of “increasing numbers of Irish priests” attending and betting at “race meetings.” The occasion for this concern was the latest Grand National, which “has a great attraction for Irishmen in general, and Irish priests in particular.” See also 341.34 and note. 39.5: “peer and prole:” aristocracy and proletariat 39.6: "stablecloth finish:” an 1882 edition of The London Bicycle Club Gazette refers to a bicycle race ending in a “’tablecloth’ finish.’” I can find no other information on what this means. 39.6-7: “ek and nek, some and none:” in addition to “neck and neck,” “neck or nothing,” a term for jockeys riding recklessly fast, seems to be part of the mix here; compare “breakneck” (.10). 39.8: “clever:” semi-facetious sporting talk for a move well made 39.9: “hinny:” hinnies do not compete in horse races. 39.10: “portey:” given preceding “bonny,” an echo of pretty. Also, of course, of Porter 39.15: “turfur:" tunfur is Latin for turtledove; here, now that the rains have passed, combined with the turf of horse-racing 39.17: “Finnish pork:” finest pork 39.17: “leg:” keg 39.22: “the Seaforths was making the colleenbawl:" the regimental band of the Seaforth Highlanders was playing “The Colleen Bawn” with its bagpipes; the result was a squally bawl. 39.23: “to ear the passon in the motor clobber:” at the time, a member of a motor club would probably be well-off. Oxford editors have "to ear wick their own hears the passon in the motor clobber:" to hear with their own ears 39.25: “rubbing noses with:” perhaps because they were reading the same newspaper item at the same time 39.26-7: “butty bloke in the specs:” in “Wandering Rocks,” “butty” means short; up to this point no recognizable character has been wearing glasses. Also, batty: blind or going blind, crazy 39.29-30: “land of counties capalleens:” Irish horse country, for instance County Kildare 39.32: “meth:” metheglin 39.33:” blotto:” dead drunk 39.33: “tots:” tot: a measure of drink, usually rum – commonly a term for sailor’s daily ration 40.2: “leabobobed:” lieabed: a late riser 40.2-3: “housingroom:” rooming house 40.3-4: “Block W.W., (why didn’t he back it?):” initials remind him of Winny Widger (39.11) who he wishes he’d bet on 40.5: “moltapuke:” multi-puke: multiple alcoholic pukings 40.7: “evangelical bussybozzzy:” the rooming house’s biblical-sounding name, “Abide with Oneanother” (.3) - Oxford editors have it italicized - suggests that it may be a charitable institution for homeless alcoholics run by Evangelicals, who were often regarded as judgmentally intrusive, that is, as ("bussybozzy") busybodies. At 41.1 the same or similar institution is run by “welleslays,” Wesleyans/Methodists. 40.10: “otherwales:” otherwise 40.12: “psumpship:” perhaps echo of pawn shop: all the characters here are impoverished, and pawn shops were often a feature of their modus vivendi; see 41.30-1. Oxford editors have "pumpship," which in "Eumaeus" means to urinate. 40.13 “fight niggers:” first-nighters 40.13: “whilde roarses:” wild horses 40.13-4: “the metagonistic!. The epickthalamorous!):” opposite poles of his “uneasy slumber” (.14), swinging between extreme conflict – meta-agonistic – and extreme amity – epithalamium/amorous 40.14-5: “in their hearings of:” during this “uneasy” dreaming, he is talking in his sleep, and his words are being heard by those near him. 40.15: “cashdraper:” cash draper: a draper who sells clothes to the poor on installment, sometimes resulting in the customer’s insurmountable debt 40.18: “funnish enough:” funnily enough. 1920’s-ish expression 40.18-9: “blankets of homelessness:” possibly newspapers, in popular culture the common covering for homeless people sleeping on park benches, etc. 40.21: “Hosty:" Latin ostiarius: janitor, porter. Also, although it may not apply here, many of FW's fifteen occurrences of "Hosty" are in the context of drinking, especially in pubs. According to Father Padraic O Laoi (Nora Barnacle Joyce: A Portrait (Galway, 1982), 5, "Hosty's" was the name of a Galway pub frequented by Nora Barnacle's father. 40.23: “on a twoodstool:” “at stool” (on the toilet); occurs in “Calypso.” Outhouse seats were made of wood. Toadstools (see next entry) are sometimes poison. 40.23: “on the verge of selfabyss:” on the verge of both masturbation (self-abuse; “verge” is ME for penis) and suicide (delivering himself into the abyss - masturbation is a sin, in this case apparently a mortal one). Compare third entry for .25. 40.24: “night birman:” night barkeep; night bird, like the nightingale (.25) 40.25: “natigal’s nano!:” Danish natte gal: night madness 40.25: “towhead:” light-colored head of hair 40.25: “tossing:” masturbating 40.25-6: “shakedown:” a makeshift bed for the night; occurs in “Eumaeus” 40.28: “parabellum:” cerebellum 40.32-3: “quitybus of a one sure shot bottle:” Hamlet: “might his quietus make with a bare bodkin.” 41.3: “jerrywangle:” gerrymander; also, "wangle:” to obtain in dubious or underhanded way 41.5: “Mongan:” James Clarence Mangan 41.5-6: “hostis et odor insuper petroperfractus:” O Hehir: dog Latin for “an enemy and a stink besides stony broke” 41.7: “swimborne:” Punch labeled Swinburne “Swine-born.” Also, those born to swim – and to be borne up by – Swinburne’s "one sweet undulant mother," here, as in "Telemachus," remembered as “great sweet mother,” the sea 41.7: “tumblerbunks:” bunks – at sea, hammocks – would be swaying with the tumbling of the waves; perhaps also reflects the lingering effects of liquor on the flophouse sleepers 41.8: “shavers:” OED definition 3 for “shaver:” a wag, a humorous fellow – obviously applies to Shaw. (Also, adjective for Shaw is “Shavian.”) 41.9-10: “tweeny-dawn-of-all-works:” jack of all trades, here probably Kate, remembered getting up at dawn to perform household chores such as polishing doorknobs 41.13: “the rejuvenated busker:” “Hosty, the “illstarred beachbusker” of 40.21, rejuvenated after his night’s sleep, however turbulent 41.17: “hogshome:” Huckleberry Finn’s father sleeps in a hogshead. 41.18: “thrie routes and restings:” Oxford editors replace "thrie" with "their." Streets, and either stops – at intersections – or rest stops 41.19-21: “with those linea and puncta where our tubenny habenny metro maniplumbs below the oberflake underrails and stations at this time of riding:” probably affected surprise that metro routes should often match street map. (Note: Dublin had and has no subway system.) See note to 4.20-1. 41.20: “tubenny habenny:” “twopenny halfpenny” (McHugh): a British expression: inconsequentially cheap; comparable to American “two cents” 41.20: “maniplumbs:” don’t know what to make of “mani-,” but as a verb, “plumbs” means to sink like a lead weight - here, down to the level of the city subway. 41.20-1: “oberflake underrails:” not only do subway routes correspond to street maps, but also to the routes of the trams running along (on rails, under their wheels) above them. 41.21: “at this time of riding:” not only: as of this writing, but also: at this time of riding the metro 41.21-2: “thrummings of a crewth fiddle: “Crowd," "Croud," or "Crouth:” an ancient Irish species of fiddle. Also Gaelic for harp; also “crwth:” an ancient British string instrument 41.23: “appy, leppy, and playable:” ALP: happy and pliable; as for “leppy:” perhaps (or perhaps not) bouncy and sprightly as a rabbit, a.k.a coney: compare 141.4, 201.18, 250.22, 257.6, and 395.33. 41.25: “flavory:” favorite 41.29: “halfpast asweeeep:” half asleep 41.31-2: “house of call:” according to Wiktionary, “A place, usually a public house, where journeymen connected with a particular trade assembled when out of work, ready for the call of employers.” Compare 310.22. 41.35: “statue of Primewer Glasstone:” Commemorative statues of Gladstone were put up in London and Edinburgh; in 1923, Dublin refused to accept one. The “ewe” in “Primewer” incorporates Gladstone’s middle name Ewart (compare 336.34: “willom eweheart”), probably to suggest cowardice (for abandoning Parnell); the echo of “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones” indicts Gladstone’s alleged hypocrisy - frequenting prostitutes (albeit for pious purposes, although Joyce almost certainly wasn’t buying this) while condemning Parnell’s adulterous relationship with Kitty O’Shea. 42.1-47.29: “the trio…Cain:” One source of this sequence is “La calunnia e un venticello,” from Rossini’s The Barber of Seville. (Compare 199.28-9.) As there, the action described is the spread of a rumor. 42.4: “figblabbers:” a translation of Greek süko-phantēs (English: sycophants), a term of abuse used against those who, in order to curry official favor, informed on Athenians who bought figs from Attica at a period when Attican figs were outlawed 42.5: “damn decent sort:” pretty much an automatic accolade for anyone standing drinks; compare “Cyclops:” “Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.” Stander here is probably the recent addition to the party, who has just been paid his weekly – and perhaps last – salary (.3). 42.7: “Firestuffostered:” firestuff: probably by analogy to “firewater,” American slang – usually attributed to Native Americans - for liquor 42.8: “small:” lower case 42.8-9: “the small p.s. ex-ex-executive:” probably the party’s new member, “of the hadbeen variety” (.2-3) Also, FW ends with four x's, sometimes with one scraped away. 42.9: “capahand:” expression: “Cap in hand goes through the land.” Occurs in “Lestrygonians;” Gifford identifies it as an “Irish expression that suggests that humility will get one much further than arrogance or self-assertion.” “To go cap in hand” is to present oneself humbly. 42.11: “how the bouckaleens shout their roscan:” O Hehir: like little boys shouting out inflammatory language. (For instance “Sinn Féin,” Irish revolutionary cry) 42.19-20: “monument of the shouldhavebeen legislator (Eleutheriodendron! Spare, woodmann, spare!):” could plausibly be either the statue of O’Connell at one end of O’Connell Street or the statue of Parnell at the other, but the tree and woodcutter motives indicate the latter, especially since Gladstone has recently appeared (41.35) – Gladstone was popularly represented as chopping down trees, here an Irish liberty tree, and Joyce considered him to have been one of Parnell’s primary betrayers. Since Parnell was for a time literally a legislator, in Parliament, the expression here may owe something to Shelley’s “unacknowledged legislators:” Parnell would have fulfilled the function in a higher, visionary, sense. (On the other hand, O’Connell was the one with the “singleminded supercrowd”s (.22).) 42.20-2: “overflow meeting in all the nations in Lenster fullyfilling the visional area:” an early instance of FW’s glaucoma theme: glaucoma is caused by symptoms by excessive fluid pressure from under the lens; Joyce described it as having his eye “awash.” 42.23-4: “all sections and cross sections (wineshop and cocoahouse:” an instance of coinciding contraries, as “cross sections:” cocoa was a widely recommended temperance drink. 42.27-8: “Hardmuth’s hacks:” hardmouth hacks: horses (pulling hackney cars (.27)) whose mouths have become too hardened to satisfactorily respond to the bit 42.29: “landwester guardian:” The Manchester Guardian is, of course, an English newspaper (although now minus the “Manchester” in the title); this amounts to charging Dublin/Leinster with being what Miss Ivors in “The Dead” calls “West Briton.” 42.32: “jumbobricks:” no idea how it might apply here, but in Joyce’s time a kind of tile was called a “Jumbo brick.” In any case, the more general sense is that they are extra-large bricks which will soon prove useful as “airwackers,” whackers of Earwicker, thrown through the air. 42.32-3: “truant officers:” as officers charged with apprehending truant students, here cohabiting with those students - another case of coinciding contraries. Also of malfeasance: they are being truant in their duties. 42.34: “palesmen:” a palesman was a dweller within Ireland’s English pale, generally considered as hostile by the natives. 42.35: “snipehunting:” a snipe hunt is a popular practical joke: a novice is sent out looking for a non-existent bird. 42.36-43.1: “massgoing ladies from Hume Street:” more coinciding contraries: Hume was a famous atheist and definitely never went to mass. 43.5: “Hammersmith:” site of St. Paul’s School, London 43.7: “Simpson’s on the Rocks:” Simpson’s in the Strand was and is famously swanky; “on the rocks” means bankrupt. Again, coinciding contraries 43.7-8 “a portly and a pert:” probably a distinguished gentleman and a sweet young thing, together 43.9: “tickeyes:” Hickey’s was an 18th century confectionary shop. 43.13-4: “a lace lappet head or two or three or four from a window:” ladies (their status established by lace) observing from window or windows 43.15: “juiced after taking their pledge:” as McHugh says, “juiced” can mean drunk - here, ironically just (“juiced,” again) after taking the temperance pledge: another coinciding contrary. On the other hand, since temperance gatherings typically made a point of serving drinks of non-alcoholic fruit juice (see note to 453.7), being juiced in this sense may be a sign of compliance. Although, again contrarily, they are “evidently under the spell of liquor over at the uncle’s place” (.15-6). But, (as McHugh also notes, “uncle” is slang for a pawnbroker) the “pledge” in question is an article put in pawn, not, or not only, a promise to refrain from alcohol; though drunk, they have in that sense not violated any vow, and it was probably the money obtained from the pledge at the pawnshop (compare Farrington in “Counterparts”) which enabled them to go drinking in the first place. All in all, a proper bit, this, of some Joycean sliding-scale figure-ground cache-cache 43.17: “Tarry the Tailor:” yet again, coinciding contraries: a Tar is a sailor, and in II.3 – and elsewhere – sailor and tailor are opposites and rivals (for “a fair girl” (.17)). 43.17: “postboy:” a juvenile postman 43.17: “thinking:” drinking 43.19: “plumodrole:” “primerole”: an early spring flower and, by extension, attractive young woman, a connection present as early as Chaucer’s “The Miller’s Tale.” Here, the “postoboy” is thinking of drink (“three flagons”) and his girlfriend, in that order. 43.19-20: “the weaver’s almshouse:” in a passage (“a half sir from the weaver's almshouse who clings and clings and chatchatchat clings to her, a wholedam's cloudhued pittycoat, as child, as curiolater, as Caoch O’Leary” (.19-.22)), about Joyce himself – blind, uxorious, presumptuous, dependent, musical – this surely refers to his amazingly generous patroness, Harriet Shaw Weaver. 43.20: “wholedam’s:” as contrasted with “half sir” (.19) 43.21: “wararrow:” OED: “war-arrow:” “an arrow split into segments which are sent out by a chief as a call to arms” 43.21-2: “(a nation wants a gaze):” “A Nation Once Again:” patriotic song popular with Irish opponents of English rule; as such a favorite of the belligerent citizen of “Cyclops.” Appropriate accompaniment when the war arrow is going around. 43.22: “felibrine:” would seem to combine Latin felix with English “febrile” 43.23: “affectioned:” affected 43.24: “blancovide:” black and white but also blank white – ready to be stamped with (black) print 43.24: “headed:” as in, the page’s heading 43.25: “rough and red:” as in rubric – red letters 43.25: “rimepress:” winepress 43.27: “the rose of the winds and the blew of the gaels:” the rising of the winds and the blowing of the gales. Possible echo of Yeats’s “The Rose of the World” 43.27-28: “from archway to lattice and from black hand to pink ear:” archways, for Romans, were synonymous with prostitutes; a lattice, contrarily, suggests chivalric courtship for both Ulysses' Gerty and Molly (and much sentimental poetry). The Black Hand was a notorious criminal organization, paired here with some ingenue’s blushing ear. In both pairings, depravity corresponds with delicacy – again, coinciding contraries. In Portrait, chapter five, Stephen imagines a priest’s “latticed ear” during confession. 43.31: “peacifold:” manifold plus beautiful plus peaceful 43.31-2: “his majesty the flute, that onecrooned king of inscrewments:” in “Cyclops,” Boylan’s intercourse with Molly is called “doing the tootle on the flute;” sexual sense of “screw” was around (mainly in America) since well before Joyce’s time; most flutes come in parts that are screwed together. The pipe organ, not the flute, is most often called “the king of instruments” – but, then again, the flute here is not crowned but uncrowned (.32) with that honorific, so once again we’re probably having it both ways at least. (There are certainly signs that the pipe organ is the real subject: “piped” (.34), the manifold (.31) incorporation of other instruments (horn, pipe, cello), the (sometime) church setting, the accompanying chorus (44.5)), the allusion (44.2: see McHugh) to a well-known Dublin organist. 43.34: “rapsods:” another high-low combination: sods – in part because sodden from the “downpour” (.34) - in rhapsody 43.35: “purseful:” 1. OED: purse-full: “that has a full purse; affluent, wealthy;” 2. Performers on wind instruments purse their mouths to play. Also, echo – or anticipation - of Persse (O’Reilly). 44.1: “snowycrested curl amoist the leader’s wild and moulting hair:” given “leader’s,” would seem to revisit the king’s “hereditary whitelock” (31.15), along with (see next entry) his naming of Earwicker. 44.2: “hoisted his fezzy fuzz at bludgeon’s height:” Oxford editors insert a comma after "height" - which would make clear that the following, "signum to his companions of the chalice for the Loud Fellow" (.3)) means that the fez - which, being round and brimless, does in fact resemble a cup - either is or symbolizes the communion chalice, being lifted at the moment of consecration. See next two entries. 44.3: “the Loud Fellow:” God, who is just about to hold forth with thunder, and to whom the mass’s chalice is being lifted, in imitation of a gesture from the “’Ductor’” (.2); also Eamonn deValera, the “Long Fellow.” 44.4: "silentium in curia!:" silence in the church at the moment of the lifting of the chalice, so that the sacring bell may be heard 44.5-6: "christened where by the old tollgate:" again (see notes to 44.1 and 44.2) returns us to the scene of Earwicker’s christening: the “old tollgate” was manned by the turnpike keeper, whose station, as Mink notes, was “where the Mullingar House now stands.” 44.7: “And around the lawn the ran it ran:” in Joyce’s father’s day, the Mullingar House had a bowling lawn in the back. 44.12: “Dan Lop:” given that he is about to be accused of selling “immaculate contraceptives for the populace” (45.14), at a time when contraceptives were illegal in Ireland, this overtone of Dunlop probably refers to the manufacture of condoms as well as motor tires; compare 420.26-7 and 584.13. 44.19-20: Glass crash:” at 124.6, the scene will still be littered with bits of broken glass. May recall Ibsen’s An Enemy of the People, where a mob stones the windows of Stockmann, the town truth-teller. Your annotator believes that the ongoing ground-level cause of the window-breaking is the storm, with high winds and hailstones – varying precipitation, with fog – recalled in the “welter focussed” of 324.24-34. 45.9-10: “And from Green Street he’ll be sent by order of His Worship / To the penal Jail of Mountjoy:” Mink notes that Robert Emmet’s speech from the dock was delivered at Green Street Courthouse, also that Emmet was sent not to Mountjoy but to Newgate and Kilmaimham Jails. 45.15: “seven dry Sundays a week:” dry Sunday: the law banning sales of alcohol on Sundays. Seven a week would, accordingly, amount to total prohibition. 45.24: “china chambers:” chamber pots 46.1: “E’erawan:” Erewhon 46.4: “Bargainweg, Lower:” Mink tentatively suggests Baggot Street, Lower. Before Joyce’s time, Lower Baggot Street was the location of the Dublin gallows. Later it became a shopping area – hence, perhaps, “Bargainweg.” 46.7: “sheriff Clancy’ll:” see previous note. Clancy will be in charge of the hanging. 46.7-8: “his unlimited company:” in business sense: opposite of a “limited” company, incorporated to as to give its investors limited (ltd.) liability 46.10: “bum:” American slang for beg; compare 39.21. 46.11: “Sweet bad luck:” euphemistic curse, very distinctively Irish 46.12: “hooker:” Viking ships had hooked prows. 46.24-8: “It was…maidenloo!:” in 1906, Enrico Caruso was fined for indecent conduct at the monkey house of New York’s Central Park Zoo. 46.26: “heavyweight:” See previous entry. Caruso might fairly be called a heavyweight. 47.9: “When some bugger let down the backtrap of the omnibus:” perhaps: the buttoned back flap of long underwear, here being let down by some bugger not for defecation but for buggery. As a result he catches “his death” (.10) of cold, among other things. Compare next two entries. 47.11: “rent in his rears:” back flap, anus, anus torn from having been buggered 47.15: “gets a grip:” possibly: catches the grippe from him, since he’s just caught his death of cold 47.20: “a free trade Gaels’ band and mass meeting:” “free trade” was controversial and, “mass meeting” or no, generally unpopular among native Irish. 47.22-4: "Oxmanstown...deaf and dumb Danes:" Dublin's Oxmantown, named for the Scandinavian Ostmen, was the site of a Deaf and Dumb Institute. 48.1: “Chest Cee!:” Just See! Or, in French, “Ceci!:” This! 48.1: “Corpo di barragio!:” Given context, may mean something like “The dam has broken!” Cólpo is Italian for a stroke or blow. Barragio, as McHugh notes, is Italian for dam, probably inflected by English “barrage,” which occurs at .5. 48.2: “mixed sex cases:” common meaning of “mixed sex:” including both men and women. Here seems to indicate a difficulty in telling the two apart, due to the fog 48.2: “hill cat:” hellcat: a hell-raiser, often a woman, sometimes a witch 48.4: “be liddeled:” belittled 48.5. “cloud barrage:” a term from WW I: a shell loaded with phosphorus would produce a “cloud barrage” reducing visibility to near-zero. 48.10: “zouave:” suave, in original sense of agreeable 48.13: “taking four parts:” character actors (“Caraculacticors” (.07): see McHugh), as opposed to leading actors, sometimes play/played multiple roles. 48.14: “Serven Feeries:” seven fairies: a familiar motif in nursery rhymes, fairytales, pantomimes; a run through Google Books suggests that it was especially popular in renditions of Sleeping Beauty. See next entry. 48.14: "Loch Neach:" a neach is an Irish fairy. 48.16: “zimzim, zimzim:” not sure, but I suggest that this is the sound of the zither (.15). 48.22: “poorly meritary order:” “Pour le Merité:” despite the French words, a Prussian (later German) medal for service of the highest order – something equivalent to the Victoria Cross or the Congressional Medal of Honor. Although McHugh is surely right in hearing an overtone of “purely military,” in fact it was from the beginning given to both military and civilians (“major poet” (.22) may accommodate both), although after 1842 the two received different versions. Unlike many honors – knighthoods, for example – it was strictly for achievement, without regard to rank or status: hence, purely meritary/meritory/merited, and since the poor could at least theoretically receive it, poorly meritary etc. as well. 48.23: “Tuonisonian:” probably reflects Joyce’s usual disdain for “Alfred Lawn Tennyson” as an Establishment sycophant whose honors were anything but “meritary.” 48.23: “worked his passage:” paid for his ship’s passenger ticket with labor 48.24-49.1: “If they whistled him before he had curtains up they are whistling him still after his curtain’s doom’s doom:” whistling a stage performance was a rowdy sign of disapproval, only slightly less insulting than booing. This performer couldn’t catch a break: they were whistling him from before his act started, up until after the curtain had gone down. Given the common (and current) expression “It’s curtains,” for imminent death, this also tracks the course of his blighted life. Semi-long shot: “doom doom” may be the sound of the stage’s safety curtain (see 220.11-2, and note) being lowered to the stage floor. Made of asbestos and, before that, literally of iron, safety curtains were very heavy. They were typically dropped either at the beginning of a show or at intermission. 49.3: “A Hara (Okaroff?):” McHugh notes that “A Hara” is a variant of the previous chapter’s “O’Mara” (40.16); the “O” in “Okaroff” may come from a partial memory. Complicating this hypothesis, A Chara is an Irish expression meaning, approximately, “Oh friend,” or, in the salutation to a letter, “Dear…” (“Okaroff” is, clearly a Russian name, but not of any obviously pertinent figure, although “A Hara” did sign up for the Crimean War, either on the Russian side or as a spy with an assumed Russian name (.8-9).) 49.4: “they squeak:” his “down at heels” shoes (.03) 49.4: “accepted thee (Zassnoch!) ardree’s shilling:” combines two very different military enlistments. “To take the king’s shilling” is to enlist in the English army, but “ardree’s” is from Gaelic árd-rí, high king – the English king’s natural enemy. A Hara, desperate, apparently doesn’t care whose side he’s on. 49.4: “(Zassnoch!):” Russian zasnut, to fall asleep – but Bonheim’s reading of German Das noch! (You too!”) would seem to fit at least as well. 49.5: “wild geese:” perhaps obvious, but the next several lines depend on knowing that Ireland’s Wild Geese enlisted in various armies, none of them on the side of the English. 49.6: “alohned in crowds:” lonely crowd – a fairly common expression before David Riesman et al. made it current in the 1950’s. (So was “alone in a crowd.”) 49.8-9: “Bucklovitch:” Joyce’s first draft reads “Buckley.” 49.12: “on the other side of the water:” a code phrase among Jacobites; as McHugh notes the Wild Geese (.5) were Irish Jacobites. 49.14: “papal leafless:” paper leaflet. For it to be paper but nonetheless pageless – leafless – seems odd, but the conceit returns on the last page, when FW is about to lose its last leaf (628.7). 49.14-5: "rawl chawclates for mouther-in-louth:" identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2020), this comes from a patriotic British song, "The Red, White, and Blue," about the Boer War. A dying soldier's last request is that a gift from Queen Victoria of chocolates be given to his mother: "Give this - it is my last request / Royal chocolate box to mother." Here, the gift is still food, but less like confectionary than something undercooked that will require some serious chewing. 49.22: “deblancer:” Dubliner. Oxford editors have "deblaneer." 49.26: “oyster:” oxter - armpit 49.26: “oyster and atlas:” omega and alpha 49.26: “atlas:” long shot: shoulders? (Because Atlas holds the world up with his. This would make some sense of his being beaten about the oxter and atlas, both of them being in the same region of the body.) The oxter-atlas combination returns at 342.3 – “the new satin atlast onder his uxter” – where, as McHugh notes, “atlas” is an archaic adjective for satin. (So, fine, but why two satins?) (See also 386.30.) 49.27: “fishandblood:” given that these two flesh-and-blooders, perhaps his parents, were both seagoers, it makes sense that their blood should be fishy. 49.28: “Sheawolving:” sea wolf: pirate. Also a name for various ferocious fish, real and imagined (though never, apparently, sharks); perhaps pertinent that the Howth St. Lawrence family’s coat of arms includes a “sea wolf or sea lion.” See also 202.24 and 480.24; neither seems to have anything to do with Jack London’s The Sea Wolf. 49.29: “Though the last straw glimt:” last straw; last stray glimpse. (Comment: this reads as if “Though” should be “Through.") 49.29: “baring:” as epiphany (remembering that epiphanies can be provisional, sometimes wrong) this is more Wordsworth than Joyce: illusions fall away from him. This “stage thunkhard” – and one does suspect that his drunkard act by this point is not entirely put on - is turning a new leaf, inspired by memories of his illustrious forebears. 49.30: “(the pitfallen gagged him as 'Promptboxer'):” presumably because he couldn’t remember his lines – another sign that, because of drinking, he was losing his grip. In any case, the tough eggs in the pit thought so; that is why, in a cruel gag, they dubbed him “Promptboxer.” 49.31-2: “like a bass dropt neck fust in till a bung crate:” from The Nine Tailors, by Dorothy Sayers: “I had a chap once that never could be taught not to pack his Bass ‘ead down in the basket, same as it was stout. Now stout will stand being stood on its ‘ead in the basket, though it’s not a thing I ever would do and I don’t recommend it, but Bass must be stood rightways up and not shook about if you’re to do justice to the beer.” 49.32: “(cogged!):” one of many parenthetical interpolations, almost always critical or hostile, running through this chapter. In this case, I can’t identify any work from which the previous words may have been “cogged.” (The Sayers passage - see previous entry - appeared later.) The interpreter seems to be quarrelsome person, reading through with blue pen in hand – either a pedagogue or an editor. 49.32ff: "Me drames, O Loughlins, has come through!:” introduces a sequence of “A’Hara”’s self/selves-rediscovery, combining séance, reincarnation, and a Yeatsian/Yungian form of dream interpretation – dreaming back as dreaming through. (A Hara seems like a pretty negligible vessel for all this multiplication of selves, but then so did Leopold Bloom.) 49.33: “Loughlins:” Scandinavians; compare .28 and note. 49.33-5: “centuple selves of my egourge as Micholas de Cusack call them:” Like Bruno after him (who will show up at 50.5, .19, .23), Nicholas of Cusa speculated on the plurality of worlds with human-like inhabitants (“centuple celves:” many hundreds of different selves). It’s hard to imagine any doctrine having less in common with the Cyclopean jingoism represented by the citizen of “Cyclops” (based on (“Micholas de Cusack”) Michael Cusack), but that may be the point: Nicholas also believed in the coincidence of contraries (.36), proof of an infinite creation capable of including opposites. 49.36: “coincidance of their contraries reamalgamerge:” “centuple” selves: multiple personalities (as Glasheen points out, Joyce was familiar with accounts of the syndrome) as well as multiple persons. “Dance” in place of “dence” suggests a minuet-like pattern of separation and rejoining. 50.1: “the Baxters and the Fleshmans:” as McHugh says, bakers and butchers: hence in one way a pair of opposites, in another (both food merchants) of identicals, in a third way, of Leibnitzian “undiscernibles” – apparently identical but actually different 50.2. “bidivil:” “divil:” common Irish pronunciation of “devil” 50.2-3: “iron thrust of his cockspurt:” fighting cocks were often outfitted with iron spurs. Also, obviously, “cockspurt”= ejaculation. See next entry. 50.5: “outandin:” more sexual innuendo: in-and-out 50.8: “spickle through his spoke:” pig in a poke 50.9: “French leaves:” as leaves of a French novel, automatically suspect of being depraved. (See next entry.) 50.9-10: “Calomnequiller’s Pravities:” depravities – as perpetrated by the calumniating column-filler (newspaper columnist: compare 324.26). Note the writer’s “quill” in “Calomnequiller’s.” 50.10: “sourface:” Dublin journalist D.P. Moran referred to the English as “sourfaces.” 50.10-1: “austral plain:” astral plane: theosophical term for luminous duplicate of earthly body, into which soul passes at death. (Compare “astral levels” in “Scylla and Charbydis.”) Here perhaps combined, equally-oppositely, with Australia, the second life awaiting British rejects; at .16 he is apparently a “hobo.” 50.12: “tabularasing:” “tabula rasa:” Locke’s term for the mind, blank at birth; here seems to go with common belief about reincarnation, that the soul is wiped clean of all memories of the previous life. 50.15: “redivivus:” Latin for: alive again. Goes with reincarnation theme. 50.15: “redivivus of paganinism:” the “new Paganism” mentioned in “Telemachus” 50.18: “San Browne:” no idea why, but this sounds like the Sam Browne belt commonly worn by soldiers. 50.18: “tea and toaster:” teetotaler. (Also, of course, toast is often served at tea time.) 50.21: “viceflayer:” vice-mayor 50.21: “barefaced:” an epithet almost invariably going with “liar.” 50.23: “hornerable:” honorable 50.26-7: “cockaded a raffles ticket on his hat which he wore all to one side like the hangle of his pan:” somewhat disjointedly, contains echoes of: he wore his hat cocked at a raffish angle. “Raffles” may allude to E.W. Hornung’s raffish gentleman thief. Since “pan” can be slang for face, this may be telling us that his face was correspondingly lopsided. Also, possible allusion to "Yankee Doodle:" "Put a feather in his hat and called it Macaroni." 50.30: “dunhill:” dunghill. Probably tracing to the saying that even the most negligible of persons is cock of his own dunghill 51.1: “long daze: long days 51.7: "oxetter, baggy pants:” Oxford bags – trousers fashionable at Oxford, and elsewhere, around the turn of the century. They were baggy. 51.9: “incipience (lust!) in the direction of area baldness:” compare “Circe:” “prematurely bald from selfabuse.” 51.9: “(lust!):” “List!” – Hamlet’s father’s ghost speaking to Hamlet, quoted in “Scylla and Charybdis.” 51.11: “freeboard school shirkers:” at Eton – a boarding school – students were obliged to “shirk” (avoid being seen by) a master or upper-form boy if they were “out of bounds.” 51.13: “ghoatstory:” goat story: in some versions, a satyr play 51.15: “Enkelchums:” see 85.8, 210.8: “chum” is associated with the soldiers. 51.15: “Bearskin ghoats:” given that this is describing the three soldiers of the park encounter, the bearskin hats worn by British Grenadiers (and some other units) are probably in play here. Also, bearskin coats were worn by some members of the Russian army. 51.16-7: “Ya, da, tra, gather, pimp, shesses, shossafat, okodeboko, nine:” “ya:” yeah. “Da:” Russian for yes. “Shesses:” echoes yesses, perhaps as spoken by a woman - compare 184.2; “Okodeboko:” American okey-dokey. (Earliest Google Books appearance, in 1936, makes it clear the expression was in circulation before that date.) “Nine:” German nein 51.22: “postponed regatta’s eventualising:” Google Books shows a number of instances of regattas being postponed, sometimes because of the weather. 51.24: “porty:” along with porter/Porter, party – as in legal proceeding’s term for an unnamed individual 51.25: “sisterisle:” sister isle: common term for Ireland 51.25-6: “ex-race eyes:” X-ray eyes. According to John Garvin, on Joyce’s visit to Galway he was called “the man with the X-ray eyes.” (Google Books has the first print appearance of this phrase in 1912, apparently as the name of a circus act.) 51.28: “sneezed at:” dismissed contemptuously 51.30: “had made:” had reached 51.36: “tearts:” given context, short for “sweethearts” 51.36: “fragrend:” fag-end 52.5: “soaky:” “soak” is slang for a drunk; “soaky” means saturated. 52.6: “bloodathirst:” bloodthirstiness, but also Russian blud, lechery – would seem to go with (.5) “sodemd” (Sodom) 52.7: “still a life:” still life: the following page will emphasize the pictorial. 52.8: “his occupancy of a world at a time:” see 49.33-5 and note. Bruno’s belief in the plurality of inhabited worlds raised the heretical possibility that there would have been multiple Jesuses, one for each peopled planet. 52.12-3: “the One…the Compassionate:” words often applied to Allah in the Koran 52.16: “ushere:” us here 52.16: “Our Farfar:” “Our Father:” beginning of Lord’s Prayer, as taught by Jesus 52.17: “Arthor of our doyne:” Author of our Days 52.19: “wolfbone:” wolfbane – aconite, the poison with which Bloom’s father poisoned himself 52.20: "Mary Nothing:" from "Digger Dialects – A Collection of Slang Phrases used by the Australian Soldiers on Active Service, compiled by W.H. Downing, as recorded in Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 18, by Ian MacArthur and Geert Lernout: a slang "term of opprobrium" 52.22: “warming to:” getting warm, as in Hide and Seek 52.22-3: "every soorkabatcha, tum or hum:" besides (McHugh) Hindi for "son of a pig," son of a bitch. For "hum:" Digger Dialects: "tum:" you; "hum:" I; me. 52.24: “puggaree” pigtail 52.24-5: “(calaboose belong bigboss belong Kang the Toll):” this patch of stage-Chinese is probably prompted by “puggaree” – pigtail (.24). 52.34: “seein as ow:” lower-class English pronunciation of “seeing as how” 52.34: “cheerio:” stage-English expression 52.36-53.1: “Here one might a fin fell:” besides Here one might hear a pin fall (McHugh), “fin” is Shelta for man. Also, Finn. See next entry. 53.1: “Boomster rombombonant!:” the sound of Finn falling 53.3: “mimage:” image 53.6: “(Prigged!):” another accusatory interjection by the hostile reader/reviewer. Since the passage from Portrait being mimicked here was original with Joyce, the accusation is one of self-plagiarism. 53.13: “paradigm maymay rererise:” Milton, Paradise Regained 53.15: “augustan:” august 53.15: “augustan peacebetothem:” the reign of Caesar Augustus was the beginning of the Pax Romana. May be pertinent that Christian tradition – for instance in Milton’s “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity” - held that it was therefore the ordained time for the birth of Jesus, the Prince of Peace. 53.15: “peacebetothem:” Englishing – with alteration – of Latin pax vobiscum 53.16: “ajaxious:” adjacent 53.17: “The angelus hour with ditchers bent upon their farm usetensiles:” I suggest that this is based on Millet’s popular painting The Angelus: two farmers in the field, a man and a woman, bending in prayer, at dusk, presumably on hearing the angelus. Although they cannot be said to be “bent upon” it, the picture includes farm equipment. 53.21: “sharkskin:” is not shark’s skin. It is a high-gloss fabric made of wool and other material. 53.23: “none of your swellish soide:” suede is an expensive material, therefore popular with the swells – the well-off well-dressed. Contrast is with the “smokewallet”’s sharkskin (.21). 53.25: “suck that brown boyo, my son:” compare “Cyclops:” “my brown son.” Gifford glosses as “low slang for penis.” See next entry. 53.26: “Havana:” At least until Castro, 20th century Havana was known as a “homosexual haven:” boy prostitutes were common and flagrant. 53.27-8: “he met Master, he mean to say, he do, sire:” idiom of a subservient subordinate, possibly African-American. “Sire” is also Sir. 53.28: “bester of redpublicans:” best of publicans 53.31: “starchboxsitting:” a starch box – a box for holding starch – was a common article in kitchens and laundries. Oxford editors separate "starchbox" and "sitting." 53.32: “poleaxe:” astound; overtone of: please 53.36: “Upkingbilly:” Hooray for King Billy – King William, victor of the Battle of the Boyne 53.36: “crow cru cramwells:” O Hehir: Gaelic: “Crom Cruach:” Bloody Croucher – an ancient Irish idol. Likely overtone of "cruel Cromwell." Neither King Billy nor Cromwell are favorite historical figures in non-Ulster Ireland. 54.2: “found rerembrandtsers:” fond memories 54.3: “Farseeingetherich:” etymology of Prometheus: fore-seer 54.4: “Poolaulwoman Charachthercuss:” there should probably be a pause between these names. Joyce is parsimonious with his commas. 54.5-7: “Favour with your tongues!...[new paragraph] Any dog’s life you list you may still hear them at it:” hunting dogs proverbially “give tongue.” 54.10-11: “Huru, more Nee, minny frickans?:” Hooray, more knee, my sweet young ladies? (Audience request at leg show: please lift the skirt higher above the knee.) 54.11: “mladies, cue:” ladies’ (or “Ladies”) queue, for ladies’ room 54.15: “ecou:” ecu: silver French coin of 17th & 18th century 54.20-1: "And, Cod, says he with mugger's tears: Would you care to know the prise of a liard?:" France's Henry IV: "Je voudrais savoir le prix d'un liard." As McHugh notes, a liard was a small French coin. Compare previous entry. "Mugger's tears:" Majesty, in this case Henry IV. 54.20: “mugger’s tears:” mother’s tears 54.21-2: “Maggis, nick your nightynovel! Mass Traverner’s at the mike again!:” Oxford editors replace "Travener's" with "Taverner's." Might actually work either way. As "Taverner's:" Maggie, hide that naughty novel you read at night! The master (of the tavern) is coming! Madge/Margaret/Maggie, Issy’s looking-glass double, is the uncouth one. "Travener's:" as it happens, there is a Traverner’s Bible, an edition first published in 1539 by Richard Travener. Assuming that the name is in play, if only as overtone, the general sense could be: it’s time to get rid of your naughty reading and turn to the Bible instead. Also, the single voice (of the master), at the microphone, will now blot out and replace the recent babble of foreign tongues. 54.22: "And that bag belly is the buck to goat it:" see McHugh. It helps to know that "goat it" echoes the original French, gâtera tout. Both this and the quotation of .20-1 come from Les Mots Historiques du Pays de France, by E. Trogen, as documented by Robbert-Jan Henkes and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu in Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 20. 54.22: “bag belly:” perhaps a response to “Upkingbilly” (53.36). In any case. HCE is the one with the big belly. 54.22-3: “is the buck to goat it:” is the boy to get it – either/both some goal or some punishment 54.23-4: “Meggeg, m'gay chapjappy fellow, I call our univalse to witness:” a characteristically defensive, overdone HCE opening; note the stutter. Also, this follows “goat it” (.23), and in “Circe,” as McHugh records, the sound a goat makes is “Megeggaggegg.” 54.23: “m’gay chapjappy fellow:” basically, something on the order of: my gay chap/fellow – probably ironic. (Younger readers may not know that in FW’s time “gay” did not mean homosexual.) “Jappy” (occurs in “Oxen of the Sun”) is slang for Japanese and presumably refers to one of the languages just heard. (Also, compare “yappanoise” (90.27).) 54.23: “univalse:” one voice, as opposed to the cacophony just silenced 54.25: “househalters:” for an extended period, British “householders” were the only citizens qualified to vote in Parliamentary elections. Here as elsewhere, HCE’s speech is partly an election address. 54.26 “ahoy:” compare 180.35. Stage-English pronunciation of “I.” He is appealing to the upper classes. 54.27-8: “my guesthouse and cowhaendel credits will immediately stand ohoh open:” refers to tradition that, since the Grace O’Malley incident, Howth Castle must keep its doors open to visitors. 54.29: “hygienic:” from an 1884 article: “The latest fad, according to Figaro, is a hygienic restaurant.” There were a number of eateries named “Hygienic Restaurant.” (There is still one in New London, Connecticut.) 54.29-30: “sabboth and bottlebreaker:” Sabbath-breaker 54.30: “firbalk:” fir bark: topsoil covering used for potting and gardening 54.30-1: “touched upon his tricoloured boater:” that is, he touched the brim of his hat as a gesture of (relative) respect. Although by FW’s time it was probably out of date, a boater hat would once have signified youth, affluence, and sportiness. Boaters were white. Long shot: perhaps his included a band or ribbon. “Tricolour” customarily indicates the French flag, but the Union Jack is also red, white, and blue. For that matter, the Irish flag was and is also tri-colored. 54.36: “wising up to do:” “up” does double duty here: wising up; up to 55.3: “Atreox” includes “Ajax;” “house of Ajax” = jakes; Ajax fell at the Greek camp at Ilium, by his own hand. 55.4-5: “the mundibanks of Fennyana:” the muddy banks of the fenny (swampy) Anna Liffey 55.5: “deeds bounds going arise again:” property boundaries and titles will be re-imposed on the currently unclaimed swampland. 55.6-7: “verysoon, if yet not, after:” compare 3.10: “venissoon after.” 55.9: “pretinately:” pertinently 55.10: “manorwombanborn:” Macbeth: “of woman born.” Also, womb. Expression "to the manner born" (noted in McHugh) becomes "to the manor born." 55.12-3: “puisne:” “puisne judges:” junior judges 55.13: “excivily:” former civil servant 55.15-6: “wewere shiny tan burlingtons (tam, homd and dicky quopriquos and peajagd) rehearsed it, pippa pointing:” this third-person account of HCE’s words sometimes reproduces his stammer. 55.15: “shiny tan burlingtons:” in this catalogue of clothing, “burlingtons” should, somehow, be shoes. In Ulysses, Blazes Boylan wears “smart tan shoes.” 55.18: “F. X.:” At least in the Irish communities of Boston, someone calling himself “F.X.” anything is automatically assumed to be named “Francis Xavier,” and is almost certainly, for reasons of piety, politics, or commerce, identifying himself as Catholic. Hence “mouther of guard,” Mother of God (.19) 55.18: “X. P-.:” “XP” (joined) – ancient monogram for Christ 55.18-9: “Preserved Coppinger (a hot fellow in his night, may the mouther of guard have mastic on him!):” preserved ginger – a popular kitchen commodity, hot in the mouth. Probable echo of “ginger will be hot in the mouth,” from Twelfth Night. “Mastic” as in “masticate.” Also as "mercy," the gist being that for all his advertised devoutness - indeed, his being a man of the cloth - he's still hot stuff in the bedroom, may God (and his blessed mother) forgive him. See note to .19. 55.19: “Coppinger:” to the list of possible Coppingers, I suggest adding the subject of the ballad “Cruel Coppinger:” Will you hear of the cruel Coppinger? He came from a foreign kind; He was brought to us by the salt water, He was carried away by the wind. This Coppinger, anyway, is certifiably a “hot fellow” – a Viking or Viking type who seized part of the Cornish coast and was usually represented as carrying a whip. You can read about him in Dickens’ All the Year Round, Vol. XVI, number 399 (December 15, 1866), pp. 537-40. Although he was married – said to have regularly tied his wife to a bedpost, in fact – I’m not aware of any tradition of multiple children. Coppinger also appears as a character in The Roar of the Sea by S. Baring-Gould, 1892. A Cornish wrecker, he is still being called “Cruel Coppinger.” 55.21: “dirkandurk heartskewerer:” dirks are for skewering. 55.21: “brimmers:” “brimmer:” 17th-18th century slang for wine glass filled to the brim. Here doubles as eyes, overflowing with tears 55.22-3: “Cycloptically through the windowdisks and with eddying awes the round eyes:” “Cyclops” means round-eyed, and disks are round. We are looking through a (porthole-shaped) window as if it were a single large eye. 55.23: “rundreisers:” combining German rund (round) and reise (travel), means tourers. 55.23: “back to back, buck to bucker:” Google Images has some pictures of Irish jaunting cars (.24) in which riders are sitting back to back. 55.24: “airish:” Irish jaunting cars are open-air. 55.24: “chaunting:” chanting, singing 55.27-8: “fireleaved:” given that this occurs in an account of a tree (but then, also a (four-leaved) cloverleaf), it may be relevant that in Britain the leaves of the plantain plant are or were called "fire-leaves." 55.27-8: "fireleaved loverlucky:" four-leaved clovers are supposed to bring good luck - in this case, love 55.28: “blomsterbohm:” Christiani identifies as Yggdrasil, which is an ash tree; this tree has “roots they be asches” (.29-.30). 55.28: “phoenix in our woodlessness:” I suggest this refers to English deforestation of Ireland, mentioned in “Cyclops.” “Phoenix” can have the connotation of something rare or unique. 55.33-4: “new reading of the part:” 1. Actors sometimes “read” for a part; 2. A performance can be described as a “new reading” of, for instance, Hamlet. 55.34-6: “the new garrickson’s grimacing grimaldism hypostasised by substintuation:” to “hypostasise” is (OED) to embody or impersonate; here an actor – one of the professional sons of Garrick – is, by his impersonation, re-embodying, taking the place of – substituting for – his subject. 55.36: “orerotundity:” combines words “rotund” and “orotund;” both could apply to Daniel O’Connell. 56.3: “timesported:” transported through time 56.3-4: “acorss the yawning (abyss):” Christiani has “Ginnando-gap,” the Chaos of Norse mythology. (This would seem to be reinforced by “Thounawahallya” (.7), with its nested echo of Valhalla.) Considering that the “ginnando gap” of 14.16 designates a vast space of time (and also considering, among other things, the “time” in “timesported” (.3)), this may also include an overtone of Shakespeare’s “dark backwards and abysm of time.” 56.4: “cockshyshooter's:” cocksure, perhaps with overtone of “gunshy:” equal opposites 56.4-5: "cockshyshooter's evensong evocation:" Brewer: "Cockshut, or Cockshut time. Twilight; the time when the cockshot, i.e. a large net employed to catch woodcocks, used to be spread. The net was so called from being used in a glade through which the woodcocks might shoot or dart." 56.5-6: “ventriloquent:” long-distance eloquent. (Time-wise, makes sense here, since O’Connell is being remembered, "timesported," not heard.) As in “Sirens," in Bloom's imagination, ventriloquy is an act of either voice-throwing or mind-transference whose center is the solar plexus or stomach. 56.6: “Agitator:” in general – including Ulysses – O’Connell is customarily called “the Liberator,” with L capitalized. Many English considered him simply an agitator. 56.6-7: “Agitator…silkhouatted:” mainly O’Connell, but Parnell as well: he was the “doomed” one (.5), and habitually wore a white rose (“whallrhosmightiadd” (.7)) in honor of the Stuarts, another lost Irish cause. In “Eumaeus,” Bloom remembers handing him his silk hat. 56.6: “plangorpound:” billows can either plangently roll over or pound against the “Reef” of .7. Here, a variation on such fairly common figurative expressions as “plangent words,” “plangent oratory,” etc. See next entry. 56.6: “o’er:” “plangent” and “o’er” are both poetical. 56.9:” “holy places!” Muslims bow toward the holy place(s) of Mecca. 56.11: “the ghazi, power of his sword:” echoes “The pen is mightier than the sword.” As McHugh notes, one “ghazi” referred to here was a warrior, another was a journalist. 56.12: “overgrown leadpencil:” having “lead in the pencil” is an old term for an erection. Probably in play in “Oxen of the Sun:” “a deposit of lead in his penis.” The phallicism of the Wellington Monument (as in “monumentally” (.13)) being referred to here is obvious. 56.12-3: “was soon, monumentally at least, to rise:” the Wellington Monument was not fully erected until after O’Connell’s death. Oxford editors replace "monumentally" with "monomentally," which may add an overtone of monomania. 56.13-4:”to be his mausoleum (O dan:” See McHugh. O’Connell’s monument resembles Wellington’s; if O’Connell could have foreseen the latter, he would also, to some extent, have foreseen the former. 56.14: “(O’dan stod tillsteyne at meisies aye skould show pon):” Christiani: “O’dan [also Odin] stood turned to stone that girls should ever look upon him.” O’Connell had a reputation as a ladies’ man. Oxford editors have "til steyne" for "tillsteyne" - which would seem to support Christiani's reading. 56.20: “Inn the days of the Bygning:” Genesis: “In the beginning” 56.20-1: “Traveler:” I don’t know why, but capitalization of “Traveler” recalls “Travener” (54.22). (Which, again, may have been a misprint for “Taverner.”) 56.24-5: “flaskneck, cracket cup, downtrodden brogue, turfsod, wildbroom, cabbageblad, stockfisch:” "cracket cup" (Oxford editors have "cracketcup"): cricket cap - his headwear. With some leeway, all plausibly items that might be on the person of a traveler, although “item” is not quite the word for the last three. See notes to .24-5, .25. As for the second-to-last, “cabbageblad” (Danish cabbage leaf), perhaps the down-and-out equivalent of a fig leaf. For “turfsod," see “Grace:” “There was many a good man went to the penny-a-week school with a sod of turf under his oxter." 56.24-5: “wildbroom:” tradition that the founder of the Plantagenet line was so named because of his habit of wearing a sprig of wild broom in his hat 56.25: “stockfisch:” “stockfish” has a rich history of signifying either old cunt or old cock. 56.25-6: “the Angel:” very common name for British pubs, so much so, according to The Dictionary of Pub Names, that “The commonness of the name has caused some sign painters to seek alternative ways of representing it.” 56.26: “herberged:” auberge 56.28: “presquesm’ile:” French-English hybrid for "almost smile" 56.33-4: “Kiwasti, kisker, kither, kitnabudja?:” according to William York Tindall, “corrupt Finnish:" It is hard to make a house a home. Digger Dialects (see 52.20 and note) traces to Australian slang for Where are you going? Why; what for? How much? and What's the time? 56.34: “Tel the tem of the tumulum:” perhaps a stretch, but the context would seem to support: Tell the name of the town. Background: Tell the time. 56.34-5: “Giv the gav of the grube:” Christiani: “Give the gift of the mine.” Also, gift of gab 57.1: “pointers:” two stars of Big Dipper pointing to the North Star, orientation of "compass" (.2) and guide for sailors. Here heard (“hear” (.1)) rather than seen, by way of tradition of the music of the spheres. We may be lost, but the heavens can still guide us. See next entry. 57.2-3: “the melos yields the mode and the mode the manners plicyman, plansiman, plousiman, plab:” in The Republic, Plato proposes that the seven different Greek musical modes influence or even govern human behavior: that Myxolydian, for instance, will make men effeminate. “Plicyman, plansiman, plousiman, plab” (.3) perhaps give four examples – the first a policeman, the last a plebian. 57.4: “The forefather folkers:” re-introduces the Four (compare 308.28) who will be re-re-introduced at .7. 57.4-5: “The forefather folkers for a prize of two peaches with Ming Ching and Shunny on the lie low lea:” They “lie low” on the lea – a flat surface (meadow). 57.4: “a prize of two peaches:” perhaps irrelevant note: the Italian fairytale “The Love of Three Oranges” was around long before Prokofiev’s 1921 opera. In any case, anticipates Daddy Browning and the "peaches number two" of 75.26 57.5: “Ming, Ching and Shunny:” oriental Tom, Dick, and Harry: combined with the “two peaches” (.4), the soldiers and girls of the park scene; with the ("forefarther" (.4)) four fathers a skewed version of 432, talismanic date of Patrick’s arrival in Ireland 57.6: “the hope of the ghouly ghost:” Romans 15:13: “Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.” 57.7: “hantitat:” handyman/henchman? 57.8: “I, says Armagh, and a’m proud o’it.:” as usual, the Ulster representative is the most self-assertive. 57.12: “coiled um:” called ‘em 57.13: “wee, wee:” when they were really, really small. Also, baby-talk for urine 57.14: “grummelung:” gremlin 57.14-5: “grummelung among the porktroop:” grumbling among the people 57.17: “legpoll:” pulling the leg: jokily deceiving someone 57.23: “Oblige with your blackthorns:” in other words, please leave them at the entrance. (Blackthorns are proverbially used in Ireland as weapons.) 57.24-5: “exposure of him by old Tom Quad, a flashback:” compare “Telemachus:” “Photo girl he calls her. [New paragraph] - Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure.” Given Lewis Carroll’s well-known interest in photography, this may describe him posing to have his picture taken. At the time, that required sitting still for a considerable period. “Gowndabout” (.25) gives his Oxford don’s gown. Carroll’s photography studio was on the roof of Tom Quad. 57.26:” “nethermore:” lower, inferior; probable echo of "netherworld" 57.27: “mild dewed:” common FW tag from Tristan: “mild und leise” 57.33: “magnoperous:” magnum opus 57.34-5: “mid pillow talk and chithouse chat:” compare 199.12: “chit of a child.” Parents talking; children chatting 57.36: “pro tried:” given “Jedburgh justice” (.36; see McHugh), pre-trial 58.3: “in the part he created:” theatrical sense – as Boris Karloff may be said to have created the monster role of Frankenstein; other performers have since played the part in his wake. 58.3: “they number up his years:” expression: his years (or days) are numbered – that is, he has a limited, probably fixed, time left to live. (In my calculation, the number of his years so far is fifty-six.) 58.3-4: “Greatwheel Dunlop:" earliest OED occurrence of “big wheel” as important person is 1942; Dunlop was certainly that. Since 1896, there has also been a “Great Wheel” – ferris wheel - at Blackpool. 58.4: “all we are his bisaacles:” that is, as bicycles, relatively small-wheeled descendants – like Isaac from Abraham - of the big wheel Dunlop, whose rubber tires were fitted on bicycles 58.5-8: “As hollyday in his house so was he priest and king to that; ulvy came, envy saw, ivy conquered. Lou! Lou! They have waved his green boughs o'er him as they have torn him limb from lamb:” As McHugh notes, an epitome out of The Golden Bough: first glorified and worshiped, then sacrificed. Incorporates liturgical life of Christ – born at Christmastide amidst holly and ivy, welcomed as messiah into Jerusalem (traditional pictures show palm leaves being waved as well as cast down in his path), then killed as the Lamb of God, on Passover, ordained time of lamb-killing. Compare next entry. 58.9: “grida, deprofound souspirs:” sighing and gnashing of teeth, of those in hell. Griding: grinding, grating. Words of Jesus; given context, it may be pertinent that according to Christian belief he “descended into Hell” on the day after the crucifixion. 58.11: “Graunya’s spreed’s abroad. Ahdostay, feedailyones:” perhaps obvious: the spreading of a (dinner-table) board by Grandma and the singing of “Adeste Fidelis” go with Christmas. 58.11: “Ahdostay, feedailyones:” Oh, do stay, faithful ones. (“As sullivans” and “Mannequins” (.10) have been urged to stay put.) 58.12: “bawls:” balls, that is testicles; goes with “total of your flouts” (flutes; penises). Compare “Cyclops:” Boylan is doing “the tootle on the flute” with Molly. 58.13: “sing wohl!:” sing woe! 58.14: “eastmost boviality:” like cows, eating 58.17: “Bugge:” Bugger. Also, Zurich’s Bögg, burned at Sachseläuten (.24) 58.17: “bagged in the bog: “Bog people:” Irish term for primitive outlanders, dwelling in the bogs. “Bog bodies:” extremely well-preserved bodies of – usually – ancient humans found in peat bogs across Europe, including the British Isles. Several had been discovered by Joyce’s time. Most seem to have been executed or ritually sacrificed, like (see previous entry) the Bögg. 58.18: “threnning gods:” Scandinavian: Treenige Gud: three-fold god(s) 58.20: “messchef:” along with “mischief,” chef of the mess – military dining quarters 58.23-4: “Tap and pat and tapatagain, (fire firstshot, Missiers the Refuseleers:” incorporates three soldiers, three Musketeers, Royal Irish Fusiliers 58.23: “fire firstshot:” as in a duel: either the first shots fired by both, or the first shot as decided by lot 58.28: “Finner:” finer 58.29: “souped:” to soup someone is to get them in trouble. See next entry. 58.30: “suggesting they go in a field:” an invitation to sexual dalliance 58.34: “callit…stagey:” stage-call 58.34-5: “elecutioner:” executioner? (In sense of theatre critic giving career-ending bad review – e.g. she's a "wastepacket sittons" (.35) waste-basket Sittons. – that is, a poor man’s Sarah Siddons)? Like writing that Mamie Van Doren was a poor man’s Jayne Mansfield, who in turn was a poor man’s Marilyn Monroe 59.2-3: “climbing boys:” chimney sweepers 59.6-7: “ahat! - and we now know what thimbles a baquets on lallance a talls mean:” refers back to “with larrons o’toolers clittering up and tombles a ‘buckets clottering down” (5.3-4). Like this authorial-intrusion interlude in “Sirens:” “Upholding the lid he (who?) gazed in the coffin (coffin?) at the oblique triple (piano!) wires,” where we are parenthetically informed, by degrees, that someone is looking inside the workings of a piano. Problem, at least for me, is that I still can’t see how what was first being referred to was a hat, or how it illuminates the rest of the cited passage. Not the only place in FW that teases its readers 59.10: “uncained:” removed of Cain – made innocent again 59.14: “(Tart!):” comment on the last speaker 59.15: “entychologist:” etymologist 59.15-6: “propenomen:” pro-pen name 59.17-8: “Soulpetre:" sepulture (see 254.28, 599.13) followed by “(Ashreborn” (.18)) resurrection. Saltpeter and ("Ashrebourne" (.18)) charcoal are two of the three ingredients of gunpowder. Perhaps the third, sulfur, is also included in "Soulpetre." 59.19-20: “leaver and buckram alternatively with stenk and kitteny phie:” a meal fit for a flesh-mortifying monk, such as the St. Kevin of Glendalough (or an indigent "dustman" (.16)): leathery liver, the kind of stiff, glued cloth used in bookbinding, stinking steak, cat pie. Enjoy. 59.22: “propogandering:” to take a gander is to look at something 59.24: “brick:” slang for dependable person, stout fellow 59.27: “rewritemen:” persons chosen to rewrite reporters’ copy for newspapers 59.30: “Mon foie:” it used to be a standing joke that Frenchmen were always complaining about the state of their livers. 59.30-2: “Mon foie, you wish to ave some homelette, yes, lady! Good, mein leber! Your hegg he must break himself:” expression around in Joyce’s time: You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. 59.32: “poele:” poulet: French for chicken 59.33: “keeping up his tennises:” keeping up with his tennis game - practicing to stay in top form 59.34: “he kne ho har twa to clect:” (obvious?) Words forced out between pantings from exercise 59.34: “but a diffpair flannels:” compare Stephen in “Circe:” “Mais nom de nom, that is another pair of trousers.” Evidently a French or mock-French way of saying: That is another affair. Tennis outfits are traditionally “flannels.” 60.8: “enjoining such wicked illth:” enjoying such health; “wicked” probably in slangy, facetious sense; also “wick” as Yorkshire dialect for life 60.10: “the Daughters Benkletter:” formula like “the brothers Johnson” 60.11: “Golforgilhisjurylegs!:” God forgive (his jury legs - see McHugh) 60.11-2: “the cub curser:” the club curser – expression like: the club character. Also, a cub is a newborn wolf. Much of this character’s summary (“bitches,” for instance) is dog-talk. Compare the “wolfdog” of Ulysses 60.14: “caveman chase and sahara sex:” the idea of caveman sex as essentially a matter of clubbing the woman and dragging her by her hair was around in Joyce’s time. 60.16: “sanit Asitas:” Asita was a 6th century BC Indian ascetic whose relation to the Buddha was somewhat like that of John the Baptist to Jesus. 60.17: “bracelets:” slang for handcuffs or manacles 60.19: “Sankya Moondy played his mango tricks:” mangy tricks: charge is that the Buddha is a religious huckster in a class with revivalists Moody and Sankey. Also, mangoes are common in India and far east. 60.19-20: “mango tricks, under the mysttetry, with shady apsaras sheltering in his leaves' licence:” all referable to the standard picture of the Buddha sitting under a tree. Oxford editors substitute "mystletry." 60.21 ”torrifried:” scared of being fried by lightning bolts from Thor. Probably pertinent that lightning strikes trees. 60.21: “torrifried by the potent bolts of indradiction:” struck by power of the Buddha’s indra-diction: his (Indian) words 60.23-4: “coincident of interfizzing with grenadines:” grenadine is and was a common ingredient in champagne cocktails; “fizz” was slang for champagne. See .26 and note. 60.25: “disgusted peersons:” probably a swerve from: distinguished peers/persons 60.25: “perpendicular:” another swerve, this from: particular 60.26: “brut:” Brut: brand of champagne. (See 451.24.) “Missioner Ida Wombwell” (.17) would presumably be a prohibitionist. 60.28-9: “striving todie, hopening tomellow:” arriving today, opening tomorrow 60.29: “Ware Splash:” “ware” is short for: beware. 60.29: “Cobbler:” “cobber:” Australian for good friend. Presumably the signature of the telegram 60.30: “El Caplan Buycout:" El Capitan; Boy Scout 60.31: “meet too ourly, matadear:” one version of the young Joyce’s famous first conversation with Yeats: “I have met you too late. You are too old.” (Also, as addressed to “my dear,” a Don Juan dismissing a too-young damsel.) Testimony on whether this happened, or happened as reported, is mixed, but Joyce definitely new of the story. 60.35: “The dirty dubs upin their flies:” the dirty Dublin lads opened their flies. “Fly” in sense of trouser fly appears in “Circe.” Overtone of “dear dirty Dublin” 60.36: “went too free, echoed the dainly drabs:” the dainty women complain that the dubs – Dublin males - are behaving too freely, with those flies of theirs. But compare next item. 60.36-61.1: "dainly drabs downin their scenities:" On the other hand, they respond to the male Dubliners opening their flies by pulling down their scanties, their briefs. So the dainty act was just a case of coyly protesting too much: dubs and drabs are definitely on the same wavelength, down in where their privates are echoing the sentiments of the open flies. Love-bird "turtlings" will follow. 61.1-2: “(Meminerva, but by now one hears turtlings all over Doveland!):” although presented as another Minerva – formidable virgin – rumor all over town has it that there is a love interest in her life. See next entry. 61.4: “bachelure’s:” her gender agenda is ambiguous: she either lives independently like a (male) bachelor or hopes to lure bachelors into her flat. More flirtatious coyness 61.9: “as pew:” as per 61.11: “silke:” sulk 61.12-3: “He’s got the sack that helped him moult instench of his gladsome rags:” he’s wearing smelly sackcloth instead of gladrags. (To “get the sack,” of course, is to be fired.) 61.13: “gladsome rags:” Gladstone bag – if only for its name, a sign of the prosperous and well-connected traveler 61.15: “the ever popular act:” given the following, entry, sex, with two women. Writing about Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Joyce said that sex usually “makes all the propaganda for itself.” 61.16: “Questa…Puella:” Italian “This;” Latin “Girl” 61.20: “fastra sastra:” faster sister - she rides, the other walks 61.21: “Naville:” echoes “naval rating” (.13), perhaps combined with Neville 61.21: “cor replied:” Oxford editors: "coreplied." Co-replied 61.26: “boughtem blarneys:” boughten, meaning store-bought. Also, is there any way that “blarneys” can mean pants? Walt Meagher (.13, .19, .22) shows up again as “Wally Meagher” (211.10-1), where he’s gifted with a pair of “blarney brags:” “bags,” I suggest, in the contemporary sense of trousers; at 508.14-5 he is compared to another disheveled sort whose clothes are falling down and who is having problems with his buttons. Here he is told to pull up his pants (61.20-1) and goes on to pass judgment on the defendant “by the siege of his trousers” (61.25); see also 354.29: there is apparently some unidentified phrase behind this. (Also, as “fiancée Meagher” (.22), he seems to be what Joyce in his notes for Exiles calls a “fancyman,” a womanizer: he is a sailor with two girlfriends; having been told to take up his pants he does so, commenting on the buttons, the hook and eye; just after completing the “ever popular act” of having had sex with one or both of them (and still trying to catch his breath (.19)), he thinks HCE was “to blame” about impropriety with the two girls but adds, in effect, And who could blame him? (certainly not I!) – nor would any other “piscman;” O Hehir has pisc as meaning cunt in Gaelic. 61.28: “marchant taylor’s:” 1. merchant tailor: a custom tailor who owns his own business and supplies the fabrics he uses. 2. Merchant sailor, in the merchant marine. Anticipates sailor – tailor conflict of II.3 61.30: “to wit:” to know 61.34: “beyessed:” biased 61.34: “beyessed to and denayed of:” both affirmed and denied 62.1: “laimen:” Layamon? (Several variants of the spelling, including “Lawman.”) His “Brut” fled his ("citadear" (.1)) dear city of Troy – not, to be sure, on the “Atreeatic" (.2), but then it was the outraged sons of Atreus who chased him away. 62.2-3: “changing clues with a baggermalster:” changing clothes with a Burgermeister, i.e. a mayor or other prominent citizen, as a respectable disguise 62.3-4: "silentioussuemeant:” silenziosamente: Italian for noiselessly. The replacement proposed by the Oxford editors, "silentiousissuemeant" may bring in a superlative, similar to generalissimo - the quietest possible 62.6: “manslaughter:” given ”remarriment” in the next line: man’s laughter as well as manslaughter. (This is definitely the case at 433.29.) 62.7: “reberthing:” being reborn; a boat returning to its berth 62.6-7: “previdence:” foresight 62.7: “dead sickness:” Christiani: allusion to Kierkegaard’s “sickness unto death.” Proximity of Norsemen (“ostmen,” etc.) probably helps 62.7: “remarriment:” marrying again 62.8: “deep:” keep 62.10: qvinne:” queen 62.10: “giftake:” “gift:” German for: poison 62.11: “halter:” halters signify hanging as well as animal-tending 62.11: "halter. The:" the Oxford editors recommend replacing the period with a comma and the capital "T" with lower-case. With this change, the syntax becomes much clearer: there is one sentence, beginning with "The seventh city" (61.36) and ending with "proper sins" (63.20). Gist: This city, were he to go there, "would rise against him" (.15) and "do him hurt" (.16) for his sins. 62.11-2: “Emerald-illuim:” Ireland (Emerald Isle) as the new Troy: Oxford editors have "Emeraldillium," which incorporates Ilium, Troy. (See note to .1, above.) 62.12: “peasant pastured:” pleasant pasture 62.15-6: “franchisables and inhabitands:” distinction is between voters and other residents 62.19: “the common or ere-in-garden:” “common or garden:” formula usually followed by “flower” (a character in “Wandering Rocks” also elides the last word.) Also, Wicklow, “Garden of Erin.” 62.21-2: “Business bred:” Joyce eschews hyphens. This probably makes more sense when read as “Business-bred.” 62.24: “his care:” probably compressed version of "those in his care" 62.28-9: "humping a suspicious parcel:” compare “Circe,” where Bloom’s parcel from the butcher is suspected by the night watch of being a bomb. 62.32: “faced:” Urban Dictionary has this as slang for: drunk. (I remember the word in this sense from my college days.) Certainly seems to apply to the character in question. 63.1: “crawsopper:” perhaps obvious: a blackjack or similar weapon. Possible echo of “sap” 63.2: “cutless:” cutlass 63.4: “okaysure:” the assailant seems Irish, but "okay-" suggests an American strain. 63.5: “Patch’s:” as in “Scylla and Charbydis,” “patch” is Elizabethan slang for a fool. 63.7: “fender:” either/both: offender, defender 63.8: “that was the snaps for him:” snapping his fingers in his opposite’s face as a gesture of dismissive contempt 63.12-3: “Myramy Huey or Colores Archer:” myriad hues or the colors of the rainbow. As with “Lotta Crabtree or Pomona Evelyn” (62.34), variations on a single theme 63.13-4: “(for ann there is but one liv:” the subject of Dublin bridges brings up Anna Liffey, flowing beneath them. 63.16: “butcherblue blouse:” Blueshirts were, or were widely believed to be, the Irish version of Brownshirts and Blackshirts. Dating? They don’t seem to have fully emerged until 1933, when General O’Duffy became the leader. Glasheen identifies O’Duffy as being present at 84.14. 63.18-9: “Haveyou-caught-emerod’s:” as an alternate spelling of “hemorrhoids,” “emerods” is found chiefly in the King James Bible, where it is always a punishment imposed by Jehovah. Here it is prompted by the presence of a “temperance” (.19) establishment (Joyce's Notebook VIB.501: "temperance hotel") combined with the “Have you” chants – Have you found Jesus, been redeemed, been baptized, etc.; compare 363.12-3 – proverbially common to such institutions. 63.21: “muttering Irish:” “Murthering Irish” (in McHugh): a term of abuse against Irish rebels – “murdering Irish” 63.27: “fillthefluthered:” compare “Grace:” “peloothered:” drunk 63.28: “gatestone pier:” compare .19: “gate’s way.” 63.28-9: “gatestone pier which, with the cow’s bonnet a’top o’it, he falsetook for a cattle pillar:” actually, nothing here is outrageously unlikely. A pier, says the OED, is a (vertical) gatepost, therefore resembling a pillar; cows are or were sometimes decorated with “bonnets” or hats; a pillar with a cow’s hat on top is, by FW standards, reasonably a cattle-pillar. 63.33: “mortially:” martially: like soldiers’ knock at the door. 63.33: “curter:” Latin curtus: cut 64.4: “war’ prised:” was surprised; prize of war. Change proposed by Oxford editors of moving the apostrophe one space, from the end of "war" to the front of "prised," tends to reinforce overtone of "surprised." 64.6: “byelo:” below 64.6: “hickstrey’s maws was grazing:” “hickstrey’s:” history’s. For the rest, this suggestion: night-mare (horse) of history. Oxford editors replace "maws" with "mews," homes for horses. 64.7: “hearing hammering on the pandywhank scale:” According to Wikipedia’s - apparently sound – source, “Paddywhack” was 19th century slang for a burly Irishman. Seems to work in the context. Compare 64.25. (Also, this might corroborate the theory – mine – that in Portrait’s chapter one, Stephen is pandied not for supposed offence of idleness but as part of a crackdown on wankers, due to reports of smuggers in the square. In any case, the sound of the Portrait pandybat is impressively loud.) 64.10-2: “was not in the very remotest like the belzey babble of boose which would not rouse him out o' slumber deep:” in other words, an equally loud noise of the kind common in pubs would not have awakened him because he would have been so used to hearing it. 64.13: “martiallawsey:” see 63.33 and note. 64.14-5: “the overthrewer to the third last days of Pompery:” before being overthrown by Caesar, Pompey the Great was thrice elected First Consul of Rome and was given three triumphs, which of course included soldiers, marches, and martial music. 64.16: “nooningless knockturn:” nocturne – hence “nooningless” – the noon sun is absent. 64.18: “cud…ruinating:” ruminating is what cows do when chewing their cud. 64.18: “bouchers’ schurts:" butcher’s shirts. Compare “butcherblue blouse” of 63.16. An 1871 entry in Google Books describes something as “a dingy blue, the colour of a butcher’s shirt.” 64.19: “be the chandeleure of the Rejaneyjailey:” see McHugh: by the Queen of Heaven’s chandelier: by the light of the moon 64.20: “wasching the walters of:” see note to 61.26. These are probably Walter Meagher’s pants being washed. 64.24: “saunces:” saints 64.26-8: “And call all your smokeblushes, Snowwhite and Rosered, if you will have the real cream! Now for a strawberry frolic!:” “strawberries and cream” complexion was considered ideal for young women. 64.28: "filoosh!:" from Digger Dialects (see 52.20 and note): originally Arabic: money 64.31: “blanko…ekksprezzion:” blank expression 64.32: “Duzinascu:” Dinarzade, Scheherezade’s sister (compare 32.8). (Note 1001 motif at .33-4.) 64.32-3: “Your machelar’s mutton leg’s getting musclebound from being too pulled:” primarily, we’ve been having you on (pulling your leg) for too long. Long shot: as McHugh notes, “machelar’s mutton” is also “bachelor’s button,” which in “Circe” designates the clitoris; in the same chapter the penis is a “middle leg;” in “Penelope” to masturbate someone is to have “pulled” him off. I can’t locate any correspondingly outré meaning for “mutton leg,” but Partridge has “mutton-dagger” for penis. All in all, the odds of sexual innuendo here seem high, especially given the context. 64.33-4: “Noah Beery weighed stone thousand one:” as adumbrated at 3.12-4, Noah both invented liquor, beer presumably included, and got drunk with it. Usually represented as an old man, he lived to 950. Weighing a thousand stone, fourteen thousand pounds, certainly seems excessive, but then there were giants in the earth in those days. 64.34: “her fat’s falling fast:” “the fat fell away” is one way of describing a rapid loss of weight. Not necessarily a good thing: it can indicate illness or, probably here, old age – the main idea being that she was once, as Blazes Boylan puts it in “Wandering Rocks,” a “young pullet,” is now an old biddy. 64.35: "chatbags:" from Digger Dialects (see 52.20 and note): underclothing 65.1: “bruised stone root ginger:” “bruised ginger” shows up in many 19th century recipes. The cook peels and pounds the ginger root to release the flavor. “Stone ginger” is a temperance drink; it appears as such in “Lestrygonians.” General sense here is that one can still fancy the follies of youth (chiefly young women) in spite of or especially because of having lived a straitened life. 65.4: “Collie Macaires on your lump of lead:” “lump of lead” is Cockney rhyming slang for head. Appears as such in Digger Dialects. 65.5: “Mr Leer!:” probably includes King Lear, in capacity as (dirty) old man 65.5: “his skirt:” his girlfriend 65.8: “papa pals:” again: the stammer is an HCE signature. 65.11: "Creampuffs:" from Digger Dialects (see 52.20 and note): shell-bursts 65.11: “to dime!:” the time! (Oxford editors change "dime" to "time.") 65.12: “missymackenzies:” a crux, here. Miss Mackenzie is a novel by Anthony Trollope, a presence in FW mainly by way of his position in the British postal service. He was credited with inventing the pillar box (Joyce knew that; it figures later in FW), and “pillarbox” shows up on the next page (66.27). Coincidence? It may tip the balance to note that, like the heroine of Trollope’s novel, the woman here has a choice between three suitors for her hand: she's contemplating "cut[ting] a dash with Arty, Bert or possibly Charley Chance" (.15-6). 65.13: “stars:” (female) movie stars, mainly 65.13: “on the razzledar:” on the razzle: on a binge 65.15-6: “cut a dash:” made a (dashing) impression. Also, behaving dashingly 65.22: "Furphy:" from Digger Dialects (see 52.20 and note): a rumor 65.27: "chivoo:" from Digger Dialects: a celebration 65.28-9: “two mixers, we mean, with their cherrybum chappy:” two misses, with their very own chap 65.30: “dreamlifeboat:” dreamboat: slang for very attractive person of opposite sex; here perhaps also a partner for life 65.30: “zoo-doo-you-doo:” version of crooner’s signature refrain of the kind popular in the 20s and 30’s - like Frank Sinatra’s (later) “doo-be-doo-be-doo.” 65.31: “tofftoff:” toffee – candy offered on social occasion 65.32: “Farber:” Father 65.34: “clap, trap:” claptrap 66.1-2: “no use in putting a tooth in a snipery of that sort:” general sense: you can’t stop a vicious rumor of that kind 66.3-4: “onceaday in and twiceaday out:” phrase: day in, day out 66.5-6: “reboos publikiss:” boose-serving public house 66.4-5: “promiscious:” broken down by syllable, means: in favor of the very bad 66.10: “Will it ever be next morning the postal:” The Morning Post, a conservative London newspaper in circulation until 1937. Also: again, most authors would probably have set “next morning” off with commas. 66.12-3: “the losel that hucks around missivemaids’ gummibacks:” the British postal service of the time employed many women – most of them, surely, at indoor and desk jobs: hence “missivemaids.” (Also, the authoress(es) of the letter.) Suggestion: the “losel” here is lurking around in an attempt to catch a glimpse of their backsides. 66.15: “pothook and pancrook:” pots and pans; by hook or by crook 66.16: “wisherwife:” both washerwoman (the letter is also laundry) and the wife, “Annone Wishwashwhose” (614.2) writing the letter. 66.18: “WC:” after “Edenberry, Dubblenn” (.17-8), this is the postal code for London, the largest of the main cities of Scotland (Edinburgh), Ireland (Dublin), and England (London). 66.18-9: “lappish language with inbursts of Maggyer:” given the interruptions from Maggy, “Lappish” probably implicates Issy as well ALP – she is not “LAP” but “LAP”-ish, and “ish” can sometimes be an Issy signature. 66.19: “semposed:” transposed; maybe semi-transposed 66.21: “roger:” fuck 66.21-2: “Will it bright upon us, nightle, and we plunging to our plight?:” compare 296.13-8 exchange between “Michael” and “Nickel.” In this light I suggest that “nightle” should be sounded with soft “i.” 66.21: “bright upon us:” that is, come to light; hooks up with “so it light” (.23). 66.22: “we plunging to our plight?:” compare “Ithaca:” “our system plunging towards the constellation of Hercules” 66.22: “mircle:” Michael/miracle; again, compare 296.13-8. 66.23: “Cox’s wife, twice Mrs Hahn:” cock and hen: husband and wife 66.25: “smutter:” smut, both as dirt and pornography 66.25: "kiribis pouch:" Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 22) identify this as a pouch with flintstones (kiribi) for sparks which will "ward off evil influence." 66.26: “paunch:” (mailman’s) pouch 66.32: “the gonemost west:” Horace Greeley: “Go west, young man.” 66.35-67.6: “Indeed…hashes:” gist: such funerary articles are necessary in order to remind high-flying youth of their mortality and bring them down to earth. The scenario is reminiscent of Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death.” 66.35: “rattanfowl:” from Digger Dialects (see 52.20 and note): "rat-and-fowl," an Australian shilling. The sense may be, Wouldn't you worth next-to-nothing? 66.36: “hadn’t the oscar!”: hadn’t the answer. Oxford editors replace "!" with "?" 66.36: “flash:” flashy 67.1: “finery:” in sense of elegant clothes 67.4: “me there naket:” Job: “Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither.” 67.6: “orses and their hashes:” orts and offal (appears in “Scylla and Charybdis,” meaning undesirable leftovers); also ashes, as in “ashes to ashes.” 67.8: “chimerical:” chemical 67.9: “gasbag:” blimp or dirigible, taking its “free of the air” (67.8). Given that they were lifted by hydrogen or helium, and that the latter shows up at 67.10 as “heliose,” I agree with C. George Sandeluscu in hearing “heiterscene,” on the next line, as echoing “hydrogen.” (Oxford editors' change of "heiterscene up thealmostfere"" to "heiteroscene up the almostfere" helps.) 67.9-10: "And try to pour somour heiterscene up thealmostfere:" Joyce's Notebook.B.45.126 has an excerpt from this passage of a chemistry textbook: "hydrogen is much lighter than air. For this reason we can pour hydrogen upwards." 67.12-3: “swore like a Norewheezian tailliur:” expression: swore like a sailor. Tailors being traditionally unmanly, an equal-opposite 67.16: “epening:” evening; perhaps evening opening 67.16: “guntinued:” the man (assailant) had a gun. 67.17: “Messrs Otto Sands and Eastman:” compare 66.32. 67.17: “Limericked:” Limited 67.19: “hickicked:” kicked, hiccupping: the visitor here is drunk; disordered speech continues at .22. 67.19: “dun and dorass:” deoch an doras: the parting cup / stirrup cup. Appropriate scene at a “doras” – door 67.25: “meatman’s:” Meathman’s; compare 51.25. 67.29: “so slaunga:” so long 67.31: “magretta:” Madge/Marge, etc: Issy’s imaginary friend/servant. General sense of the sentence is that either of the girls could have done it. 67.33: “Lupita:” would mean something like little wolf 67.34-5: “in a fit of the unexpectedness drank carbolic with all her dear placid life before her and paled off:” the Issy half of the duo is always the pale or white one and given to fading away (e. g. 528.10-3); it may be pertinent that carbolic soap (Lifebuoy) was popular in Joyce’s time. When someone dies at a young age, it is often said that they "had their whole life before" them. 68.1: “teasily:” easily 68.2: “jimpjoyed to see each other:” because mutually visible with clothing removed 68.4: “rapidly taking time:” “festina lente” 68.6: “greenawn:” greenhouse: euphemism for urinal 68.9: “coney:” Elizabethan term of endearment for girlfriend 68.10: “chilired:” given that she’s “hot” (.9) and “dished up” (.10), almost certainly this can be read as “chili-red.” Parsimonious with his commas, Joyce is positively allergic to hyphens. 68.11: “greatsire of Oscar:” see McHugh. One of Wilde’s middle names was Fingal, Ossian’s version of Finn McCool. 68.14: “pitch:” selected spot where a busker or other public entertainer performs 68.15: “valkirry:” German kirre: tame, allure 68.16: “pucker:” people proverbially “pucker up” to kiss. 68.17-8: “eh tease fido eh eh tease fido, toos topples topple, stop, dug of a dog of a dgiaour:” compare Molly Bloom in “Penelope:” “I loved teasing that dog in the hotel rrrsssstt awokwokawok.” In both cases, it is likened to sexually teasing a man. 68.17: “fido” maybe obvious: “Fido” was long the default name for any fictional dog – like “Bossy” for a cow or “Dobbin” for a horse. 68.17-8: “toos-stop:” version of an old joke that appears more fully at 124.4-5: woman being wooed by a man: “Stop!” “Please stop!” “Do please stop!” “O do please stop!” “O do please!” “O do!” “O!” Echoes also appear at 18.17-8, 19.2, 19.10, 379.5-6, and 560.16-7. See next entry. 68.19-20: “misbrand her behaveyous:” either misunderstand or misrepresent her appeals to him to “behave yourself:” “stop!” etc. 68.20: “iridescent huecry:” note sounding of “Iris,” rainbow goddess of seven hues, in “iridescent.” Perhaps obvious: coupling her with musical scale (“down…dope?” (.20-1)) is one of FW’s several instances of synesthesia. Also, hue and cry 68.22: “snobsic:” “snob-stick:” a workman who refuses to join strikes 68.23: “So gave so take:” The Lord giveth; the Lord taketh away. Also, give and take 68.23: “Not now, not now!:” again (see .17-8 and note), she’s fending off his advances. 68.24: “trumpet!:” strumpet! What Othello calls Desdemona. Given imprecations to “hear,” perhaps also ear trumpet. (Annotator’s comment: I think that on one level, this section records the impressions reaching a fallen/dead/unconscious sleeper/dreamer/fall survivor/stroke victim.) 68.25: “hear, O hear:” Hero, hear! 68.25: “living of the land:” living off the land 68.26: “lippling lills:” double i’s, double l’s – both Issy signatures 68.27: “Zay, zay, zay!:” Say! Say! Say! (The hero addressing her “voi[ce] of day[s] gon[e] by” (.26-7)) 68.27-8: “by the beer of his profit:” as a publican, he profits from beer. 68.28: “Upterputty:" from Digger Dialects: "Up to putty:" "bad; useless; ineffectual" 68.28: "rise and shine!:" common early-morning to sleeping campers and such - here, soldiers - sometimes accompanied by expressions on the order of "Up and at 'em!" 68.29: “Little Asia:” Little Egypt: popular belly dancer. Also, Asia Minor 68.33-4: “Tatcho, tawney yeeklings!:” from Latin or Italian, to be silent: “Silence, tiny weaklings!” Also, from Digger Dialects: "atcha:" "Yes; alright" 68.35: "column of lumps:" from Digger Dialects: in "disorderly military formation" 68.35-6: “pattrin of the leaves:” the prophetic leaves of the Sybil of Cumae were arranged in a pattern; if the wind blew them around the order was disrupted and the message became more problematic. 69.1: “agent male:” French: agent mal: evil agent 69.2: “womanhid:” hidden woman 69.2: “(ah! ah!):” again, two verticals (!!): an Issy signature 69.3 “fain:” fane 69.5-6: “turn wheel again to the whole of the wall:” to turn one’s face to the wall is to resign to death. Also, Oxford editors change "wall. Where" to "wall where." (McHugh concurs.) The change raises the possibility that the "whole of the wall" may be a hole in the wall - a window - through which one can see "Gyant Blyant fronts Peannlueamoore" (.6). (Whatever that is. Christiani glosses the first as "pencil" and refers to the "overgrown leadpencil" of 56.12; O Hehir glosses the second as "big pencil." Best guess: the O'Connell monument in Glasnevin Cemetery, the Wellington Monument in Phoenix Park. There is of course no vantage point in Chapelizod, or anywhere else, from which both could be seen at the same time.) 69.10: “lost paladays:” perhaps Charlemagne’s twelve paladins, in The Song of Roland, all killed in the Battle of Roncevaux Pass. (See 73.35 and McHugh note.) 69.12: “lousaforitch:” lice itch. 69.12-3: “baregazed shoeshines:” barefaced gazing shoeshines: Ulysses’ concern (“Ithaca,” “Penelope”) that a bootblack looked up Molly’s skirts. Until fairly recently, shoeshines in America were proverbially black; “shine” is or was slang for a black man. 69.13: “shoodov:” shut up 69.15: “Soretost Areas, Diseased:” distressed areas: British term for slums, especially susceptible to disease 69.21-2: "he put an applegate on the place by no means as some pretext a bedstead in loo thereof:" sounds bizarre, but Google Images has a number of pictures of the barred ends of iron bedsteads resembling gates. In a slum, (see previous entry), whose residents have to make do, it's not impossible that such a bedstead might be used in ("loo") lieu of an available gate. Joyce's notebook note has "pretend" instead of "pretext" - the bedstead idea may originate in local raillery. (Later addition, from the 2019 edition of Genetic Joyce Studies: Joyce's Notebook VI.B.2.155, entry "bedstead gateway" comes from an account of a horserace: "They cheered every jump, they pulled away the astounding obstacles that served as gates (such as the end of an iron bedstead, a broken harrow, or a couple of cartwheels)." 69.22-5: "in loo thereof....was triplepatrlock on him:" "Loo" is slang for toilet. Compare 520.5-7: one over several places in FW where we here of a public toilet being unavailable, sometimes because locked up. 69.24: “by old custom left open:” again: reference to the open doors of Howth Castle 69.26: “poorters:” porters as door-keepers 69.27: “possibly enaunter:” possibly enough 69.32-6: “northrooomer…32…Kommerzial:” Shem-type and Shaun-type, as usual accompanied by numbers 3 and 2. (Will be followed by an 11 at 70.1.) 69.32-3: “holedigs, digging:” play on “digs” – slang for dwelling 69.34-5: “the Sockeye Sammons were stopping at the time:” Irish salmon begin spawning in August. 69.36: “wreaking like Zentral Oylrubber:” reeking: rubber factories were noted for their bad smell. 70.1: “Osterich:” perhaps including “ostrich,” from Australia 70.1: “the U.S.E.:” combines U.S.A. with United States of Europe 70.1: “paying (Gaul save the mark!) 11/- in the week (Gosh, these wholly romads!):” eleven shillings per week would presumably have been extravagant. Americans were known for being rich and throwing money around. “Wholly romads:” may combine “holy rollers” (usually Americans) with Holy Roman Empire. 70.3-4: “swishing beesnest with blessure:” stirring up a hornet’s nest, causing (French blessure) wounding 70.3: “beesnest:” bee’s-knees: 20’s American slang for something excellent 70.4: “swobbing:” Swabian – from ancient district of Germany 70.4: “broguen eeriesh:” Irish brogue 70.4: “brockendootsch:” broken (halting, imperfect) Deutsch, possibly also with Dutch, which to some sounds like Deutsch gone crazy. Also, the Brocken is famous for its “Spectre:” as described by Wikipedia, the “apparently enormous and magnified shadow of an observer, cast upon the surfaces of clouds opposite the sun.” 70.11: "gaze and bandstand:" "gaze" is an English term for a summer house and the origin of the mock-Latin "gazebo" (compare "gazebocroticon" (614.27)). 70.14: “the middle west:” American region. A good deal of the language on this page is American or American-ish, for instance the next entry. 70.17: “deposend his bockstump:” deposited his backside - sat down 70.18-9: “blew some quaker's (for you! Oates!) in through the houseking's keyhole:” Quaker Puffed Wheat and Quaker Puffed Rice (from Battle Creek, Michigan) were advertised as food “shot from guns.” Radio advertisements included the sound of guns going off. “Quaker” makes this a case of equal-opposites. See next entry. 70.20-1: “hogcallering:” hog-calling: proverbially loud and hog-like; characteristic “Soooeeee” sound might resemble gale blowing through a keyhole (.18-9). Again, this would have had American (midwest) overtones. 70.21: “hirsuiter:” hirsute: hairy. Goes with “bulshey-wigger’s:” (.21-2): bushy wig 70.22: “head…heeltapper:” cap-a-pie motif, from Hamlet. Also, heeltaps – lees of wine at bottom of glass 70.21-2: “bulsheywigger’s:” Bolshy Whig – far-left of center, left of center. Also, “bolshy” can mean obstreperous. 70.23:“ lankyduckling:” Yankee-Doodling. Also, compare the "lankylooking galoot" of "Hades." 70.26-7: “bleday steppebrodhar’s:” blood [step] brother’s 70.27: “the bucket:” animal blood (pig, cattle) was/is often collected in a bucket. 70.27: “wood alcohol:” known to make its drinkers blind – famously occurred during American Prohibition 70.28: “taxis:" toxic, like (see previous) wood alcohol 70.29: “only after ten o’connell:” i.e. not yet 11:00 p. m., closing time 70.29: “his isbar:” bar as American for pub. Also, maybe a trace of HCE’s stammer; compare .30: “irsk irskusky.” 70.30: “oven:” perhaps, haven 70.30: “irsk irkusky:” perhaps a garbled: Irish industry 70.31: “atillarery:” raillery 70.32: “wicked rate:” wicket gate. At 72.28 the attack is aimed “at the wicket.” 70.33-4: “luncheonette:” another Americanism; first OED appearance is 1924. 70.35: “jewbeggar:” Jew-baiter; Jupiter 71.3-4: “walrus whiskerbristle for a tuskpick:” a brush for his walrus moustache, perhaps his most distinctive feature. In "Aeolus," Simon Dedalus, based on Joyce's father, has a "bushy moustache." This one has bristles so stiff (and teeth so tusky) that he can use it for a toothpick 71.4: "guineese:” guineas: unit of currency worth one pound, one shilling. Connotes toffishnes/snobbishness 71.6: “we have been compelled:” which have been compiled 71.7: “Milltown:” mill town – a factory town predominantly occupied by members of the working class, here as opposite to “foinne loidies” (.7), fine ladies 71.8: “Contrastations:” contestations 71.9: “lacies in loo water, flee:” ladies allowed in free. “Loo water” would be “toilet water,” the name under which, incredibly, a kind of perfume was, for a long time, marketed. 71.10: “Old Fruit:” English expression: old friend, old chap 71.10-1: “Yellow Whigger, Wheatears:” syllable transposition of “yellow wheat” – a kind of crop – and “Earwigger” – Earwicker 71.11: “Goldy Geit:” Golden Gate. (Not the Golden Gate Bridge, finished in 1937, but the site of its eventual construction, at the entrance to San Francisco Bay, had long gone by that name.) Also, according to E.L. Epstein, “the notorious South African diamond and gold millionaire sir Alfred Geit.” 71.14: “Beat My Price:” merchant’s advertising challenge 71.17: “Tight before Teatime:” (perhaps obvious) drunk in the afternoon 71.18: “Pantojoke:” panto: short for pantomime, which always includes jokes 71.18: Gobblasst the Good Dook of Ourguile:” God-blessed; God-blasted. Certainly some Scots, MacDonalds above all, would be inclined to think of the Duke of Argyll, the leader of the Campbells – whose attack at Glencoe was nothing if not guileful - as someone who was or ought to be blasted, not blessed, by God. 71.19: “W. D.’s Grace:” W’s disgrace, “W” being one of the main male’s insignia – as with “Willingdone,” for instance 71.23: “Lardling:” lordling: inferior lord. Also, HCE is fat. 71.24-5: “The Ace and Deuce of Paupering:” “Deuce-ace:” rolling the dice and getting a three: bad luck, tending to pauperize the roller 71.27: "Luck before Wedlock:" McHugh notes this as a play on cricket's Leg Before Wicket - a foul in which a batsman's leg blocks the ball from the wicket. 71.28: “I Divorce Thee Husband:” Muslim husband can divorce wife by saying “I divorce thee [her name]” three times. 71.30: “He’s None of Me Causin:” he’s none of my causing/cousin: he’s not my fault; we’re not related 71.32: “Vamps the Tune:” improvises while playing music; appears in this sense in “Sirens” 71.35: “Plagues:” Place 72.1: "Andy Mac Noon:" from Digger Dialects: "an unqualified idiot" 72.2: “Bester:” a sharper. In “Ithaca,” Blazes Boylan is called a “bester.” 72.2: "Awl:" from Digger Dialects: Absent Without Leave 72.3: “Burgaans:” Bourbons 72.3: “a Bom for Ye Sur:” there were a number of bomb plots against the tsar, including one in 1904. 72.4: “Cutprice:” cutpurse, that is, a pickpocket 72.9: “Plowp Goes His Whastle:” Plop goes his waste: the sound of a turd landing in a toilet bowl 72.10: “Milkinghoneybeaverbrooker:” milk and honey 72.10: “Vee was a Vindner:” V was a vintner – as in an child’s alphabet book 72.10: “Rapes:” rape: a turnip-like crop grown for cattle feed. Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun” 72.11: “Armenian Atrocity:” likely refers to a Turkish massacre of Armenians in September, 1894: Gladstone wrote about it, and it was a subject of public controversy. 72.11: “Sickfish Bellyup:” to quote from Donald Barthelme’s story “The School:” “Of course we expected the tropical fish to die, that was no surprise. Those numbers, you look at them crooked and they’re belly-up on the surface.” 72.11: “Edomite:” Adamite: member of an early Christian sect, accused of licentiousness. In the context, would certainly be an insult 72.12: “Bad Humborg:” Scrooge’s “Bah, humbug!” Also, a bad homburg, that is, bad hat – slang for bad habit. (Occurs in “Eumaeus”) 72.13-4: “Born Burst Feet Foremost:” tradition that a child born feet first will become a vampire 72.15: “Fast in the Barrel:” Fast(ing) in a barrel: Diogenes, or any other starving down-and-out: a man wearing a barrel has long been a cartoonist’s cliché for poverty. 72.24: “rowmish devowtion:” Romish devotion, i.e. Catholicism: HCE belongs to the Church of England. 72.27: “glatt:” kosher, raised to the next level 72.33: “pangpung:” onomatopoeia: sound of pebbles falling 72.34: “paces:” such shifts from past tense to present occur occasionally in fiction – in FW, more than occasionally 72.36: “briskly:” brusquely 73.2: “ordnance:” artillery fire – the sort of thing likely to put someone on the ("dissenting table" (.2-3)) dissecting table 73.4: “Seir:” Sir. Traditionally such niceties were maintained in duels and challenges to duels. 73.5: “out of that:” Irish expression, occurring in Ulysses, meaning, approximately: out of here (or there) for good, and good riddance 73.6: “fishguds:” heathen fishgods, especially Dagon, are frequently objects of objurgation in the Old Testament. A bit ironic, since Jesus, as Ichthus, was in a way a fish god. 73.7: “could brianslog and burst him:” could brain him – that is, knock his brains out 73.8: “Potts Fracture with Keddle Flatnose:” see McHugh: from heel to head – reverse cap-a-pie 73.10: “for two and thirty straws:” expression: for two straws, I’d (do something extreme, probably violent). Also, 2-3, in combination, is a twin signature. 73.12…21: “fuguall…Bach:” probably not a coincidence that Bach composed music’s best-known fugues 73.13: “the rage of Malbruk,” in Leoncavallo’s opera Malbruk, the title character is a member of a romantic triangle occupying approximately the same position that King Mark does toward Tristan and Iseult; when he learns of their relationship he gets angry. 73.13: “least change:” least chance 73.14: “manjester’s voice:” probably a coincidence, but Google Books reports a mid-19th century Manchester newspaper called Voice of the People. 73.17: “pool or poldier:” pool or puddle 73.21: “moonshiny gorge:” American illicit liquor (moonshine) was proverbially made in “hollows” (for instance, gorges). 73.23: “rochelly exetur:” rocketlike exit, with overtone of rock-throwing 73.24-5: “Bar-le-Duc and Dog-an-Doras and Bangen-op-Zoom:” I suggest that these three proposed names all contain elements adding up to: bar the door that someone is banging on. McHugh notes that Bar-le-Duc was the “staging area for the Battle of Verdun,” and the famous line coming out of that battle was “Ils ne passerons pas.” Medals and posters celebrating the battle sometimes show a French man or woman (Joan of Arc) blocking a door, gate, passageway, etc. 73.25: “recall:” re-name 73.30: “up hill and down coombe:” “coombe:” Gaelic cúm, hollow. In other words, up hill and down dale 73.32: “evoluation of human society:” evolution, evaluation. Lyell’s work on rocks, especially fossils, set the stage for Darwin’s theory of evolution, which certainly initiated a change in humanity’s evaluation of its place in nature. 73.34-5: "shall be gathered unto him:” “gathered unto his fathers:” King James Bible formula for death 73.35: “herd:” shepherd 73.36: “hwen:” according to Christiani, this imitates Danish aspiration 74.2: “haught:” hight – that is, named 74.2-3: “Greenman’s Rise O:” the Green Man, a mythical figure usually represented as intermingled with leaves and vines, is commonly considered to be a pre-Christian embodiment of vegetal regeneration. 74.11: “ear ringing:” earring. Also, tinnitus 74.11: “pantriarch:” pantomime patriarch 74.13: “coold parritch:” cold porridge: proverbial for something bland to the point of unpleasantness. “Like cold porridge:” a modern equivalent might be: yucky. Here, his liver may be in fair shape, but everything else about him is pretty marginal. 74.14-5: “his puff but a piff:” his breathing is shallow. 74.18-9: “Which we all like:” widespread sentiment that the sound of rain on the roof is soothing at bedtime. I.4: An exceptionally auto-echoic chapter – verbal formulae are constantly recalling or summoning approximations from elsewhere within its 28 pages – perhaps because it takes place in an enclosed space. Klang associations are everpresent.
75.1: "the lion in our teargarden:" the Phoenix Park zoo, with its lion house, is next to the Tea Rooms. 75.5: “baregams:” bare gams: “gams” as American slang for (women’s) legs. (Another distinguishing feature of this chapter: its high incidence of American allusions and expressions.) 75.5-6: “undeveiled:” unveiled girls (“lililiths” (.5)) displaying their bare gams 75.8: “larcenlads:” lurking larcenous lads 75.7: “Fooi, fooi!:” the usual “i i” Issy signature. 75.8: “chamermissies:” Nora was a chambermaid at Finn’s Hotel. 75.8: "Zijnzijn Zijnzijn!:” high incidence of Dutch in the chapter’s early pages probably reflects watery/underwater setting. 75.9-10: “where corngold Issy shamed and shone:” Issy as guardian of Rhine gold, at the bottom of the river (or lake). (As with Milly Bloom, but not Nora Barnacle or Molly Bloom, her hair is, sometimes at least, gold in color.) 75.15: “(Twillby! Twillby!):” what with “deepseeing insight” two lines earlier, I suggest that this gives us Svengali, hypnotizing Trilby by long distance – a feature of the 1931 movie Svengali. (That hypnotism can be performed telepathically was part of the lore; Dickens believed it, and in “Sirens” Bloom experiments with the idea.) 75.15-6: “kingbilly whitehorsed:” compare 262.22-3. A white horse image in a fanlight = a sign of Protestant/Ascendancy sympathies. (Also invites (44.19-21) glass-breaking from Catholic populace.) “Horsed:” housed. King Billy’s horse in a mill: seems to reverse the mill-horse of “The Dead,” going around King Billy’s statue. Also, perhaps obviously and correspondingly, the blinded Samson, “eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.” 75.16: “anxious seat:” in evangelical meetings, a wavering church-goer was put in “the anxious seat:” all present would pray for his/her recommitment to the faith. 75.19: “bred:” prayed 75.19-20: “engles to the teeth…Nash of Girahash:” “gnashing of teeth” - according to Jesus, the damned in hell 75.21-2: “kreeponskneed!:” creep on his knees: halfway to God’s punishment of Satan the serpent – to lose his legs and crawl on his belly 75.22: “milk, music or married missusses!:” a domesticated version of “wine, women, and song.” Also, three things that, according to various sources, snakes like: milk (see Doyle, “The Adventure of the Speckled Band”), music (snake charmers) and, (see McHugh, alluding to “Circe”), lactating breasts 75.23-4: “unfold…his posteriors:” Ham (76.5) was cursed for seeing “the nakedness of his father,” Noah. 76.1: “blackfaced:” for minstrel show. (A major theme in this chapter) 76.1 “blackfaced connemaras:” black sheep in the family – again, Ham and his descendants 76.2-3: “predamanant:” pre-Adam: pre-Adamites believed that humans existed before Adam. Such prelapsarian beings would be innocent of the damnation that went with the fall – in that sense pre-damned. On the other hand, Pre-Adamites were heretics, therefore damned. Yet another coinciding contrary 76.3 “in more favoured climes:” more favored than in this distinctly wet, Irish setting 76.5-6: “Ham’s cribcracking yeggs:” ham and eggs 76.6: "eliminating:" both Oxford editors and McHugh insert "from the oppidump much desultory delinquency from" between "eliminating" and "all classes." (Easy to see how those two "from"s could have caused an eyeskip.) An oppidum is a given district’s main settlement – first Celtic, then Roman. Gist: his plans for an ideal future community would necessitate purging the bad element, of whatever class. 76.9: “obedience of the citizens elp the ealth of the ole:” dropped h’s – a sign of lower-class speakers. Oxford editors have “hobedience” for “obedience” – so, either way, the poor blokes are getting it wrong. 76.11: “teak coffin, Pughglasspanelfitted:” “The Glass Coffin” – one of the Grimm tales; also shows up in some versions of “Sleeping Beauty” 76.12: “feets to the east:” Brewer: “persons are buried with their feet to the East to signify that they died in the hope of the Resurrection.” 76.12-3: “pitly patly near the porpus:” nearer the purpose/corpse. A far fetch, but I also wonder whether “porpus” connects to the Arion/dolphin story. Arion may be mentioned at 75.2 (“Arioun”), and this glass vehicle/container is, among the usual other things, a bottle (with message) bobbing in the ocean. (It will soon become a submarine, underwater.) 76.13: “And this, liever:” portmanteau German-English authorial address: “dear reader,” “by your leave” 76.16: “before voting themselves and himself town:” voting itself down: a curious thing for any committee to do - but then at .18 they do vote themselves “out of…existence.” 76.18: “groundwet:” government? A weak echo, but it fits the sense. In cartoons, movies, etc., anti-government Americans sometimes say “gumment.” 76.18: “plotty:” bloody 76.19: “cuttinrunner:” a cutter is a small ship. 76.19: “cuttinrunner on a neuw pack of klerds:” cutting the deck in a new pack of cards; signals a new deal 76.21: “protem grave:” protograph? (The original of any document; a biblical passage.) In which case it could be the message in the bottle, or the scripture in a mezuzah. The latter shows up in “Nausicaa,” though Bloom misremembers the name as “tephilim.” “Pro-tem:” a committee term if ever there was one 76.22-3: “as much in demand among misonesans as the Isle of Man today among limniphobes:” makes sense that water-haters should prefer islands, and, contrariwise, that land-haters should be against water. The “miso-” part of “misonesans” fits the parallelism, but “-nesans?” No idea 76.27: "chatty sally:" Digger Dialects: a verminous woman 76.28: “ongle her:” ogle her, angle her, finger[nail] – (Latin “ungu”) her. Surely sexual. (Compare Bloom in “Sirens,” on one of the bar maids: “Virgin should say: or fingered only.” Also, see next entry.) “Wilt or Walt” is the seducer here: in general it seems to be FW’s name of choice for skirt-chasers. 76.28: “to tickle his rod:” one way of describing what Nora did for Joyce on their first date. Mutual masturbation: see previous entry and note. 76.29: “brown peater:” play on “Blue Peter” – ship’s flag indicating imminent departure; also, of course, the peat staining the water brown. (Hence “somnolulutent:” murky depths asleep beneath the lively – rippling – surface; “lutulent” in this sense appears in “Oxen of the Sun.”) 76.30: “arripple (may their quilt gild lightly:” compare Shakespeare’s Sonnet 33: “Full many a glorious morning have I seen…Guilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.” Rippling of wind on water surface probably makes for quilt-like pattern; compare Nabokov’s “ripple-warped reflection” on a lake surface (Pale Fire), or some David Hockney paintings. 76.31-77.3: "This wastohavebeen...misterbilder:” This passage incorporates Alaric, buried with his Rome loot under the Busento River; the river was turned from its “bed” (.32) for the purpose, then returned to the original channel; the workmen responsible were killed. (Here the architect is “obcaecated:” blinded – and, equal-oppositely, obsecrated (implored) not to perpetrate another like it.) Pace 76.32, Alaric wasn’t a Hun – according to Gibbon, his tribe, the Visigoths, were being chased by the Huns – but did come from the Danube region. Again, Rhine gold (see 75.9-10) also figures in. See next entry. 77.1: “petrifake:” perpetrate, perpetuate – that is, make it possible to do it again. Again, the story of Alaric’s treasure is behind this passage. 77.2-3: “invulnerably venerable:” They were made invulnerably venerable by being killed. 77.3: “first in the west, our misterbilder, Castlevillainous:” in Arthurian legend, Castle Perilous, manned by four villains, immures a damsel in distress; like other Arthurian stories it is set in the west of England. 77.4: “blasted by means of a hydromine:” regular (military) miners blow up land from underground; a hydrominer would accordingly blow up water from underwater. 77.6: “eleven and thirty wingrests (circiter):” where’s the “two” to go with “eleven and thirty” here? My bet is on the two “i”s in “(circiter).” 77.6: “wingrests:” the word is to be found in military texts of the late nineteenth century, having to do with ordnance and delivery of same. No engineer, I wasn’t able to figure out what they do or how they work. 77.7: “thorpeto:” Thor’s fart 77.8: “improved ammonia:” ammonium nitrate is an ingredient of explosives. (Goes with “thorpeto” and dynamite of “Auton Dynamon” (.7).) For “improved,” compare “reinvented T.N.T” (.5): ammonia is an ingredient. 77.10: “playing down:” as in the (often nautical) expression “playing out” rope or cable 77.11: “as differing as clocks from keys:” in Joyce’s time, timepieces often came with keys, to wind them up. 77.12: “the same time of beard:” absent clocks and such, beard length would be one way of measuring time, at least for men. Also, since beard styles change with other fashions, they might serve as indicators of the period. 77.12-4: “some saying by their Oorlog it was Sygstryggs to nine, more holding with the Ryan vogt it was Dane to pfife:” Christiani: Oorlog/Orlog Scandinavian, stands for fate. The Shan van Vogt (various other spellings) stands for Ireland; both are typically represented as old and ugly, although – as in Yeats’s The Countess Cathleen – the latter is young and beautiful if seen aright. 77.13: “Sygstryggs to nine:” Napoleon and Wellington were both born in 1769. Also, at sixteen to nine, hour hand and minute hand would be in almost exactly the same location. See next entry. 77.14: “Dane to pfife:” at ten to five, hour hand and minute hand would be almost exactly opposite. Also, from Macbeth: "The Thane of Fife had a wife.” 77.15-6: “his blaetther began to fail off him and his rough bark was wholly husky:” 1. He talked so much he became hoarse, his voice failing; 2. People stopped buying into his blithering blather; 3. As a tree (hence “wouldmanspare!” (.16)), he developed the disease called “rough bark,” one symptom of which is, literally, rough bark, which does in time crumble and (“fail off”) fall off. (Complication: some perfectly healthy trees naturally come with – one more time – rough bark.) 77.18: “fassed to fossed:” Dante’s descent into hell proceeds from fosse to fosse. 77.20-1: “(insteppen, alls al hats beliefd!):” years ago, when I visited the House of Commons, something – the mace? – was carried in by some Beefeater types the chief of whom greeted us with “Hats off, strangers!” Also, recalls 8.9 77.22: ladykants:” litigants 77.23: “Merchants of the Staple:” Merchant of the Staple: Mediaeval London merchants granted special prerogatives by the crown 77.24-5: “present unto him with funebral pomp, over and above that, a stone slab with the usual Mac Pelah address of velediction:” instead of a gold watch or some such for his retirement, they present him with a tombstone – another unsubtle hint that they want him to stay buried. Oxford editors have “valediction” for “velediction.” 77.27: “Heer Herewhippit: overgiven it:” to hell with you, whipped Herr; give it up – you’ve been beaten. 77.27: “skidoo:” "twenty-three skidoo:" popular 1920’s phrase: getting out while the getting is good 77.28: “Show coffins:” ostentatiously expensive coffins for display; the real coffin, in which the body will be buried, is lodged inside. 77.29: “goodbuy bierchepes:” 1. Good buy! Cheap beer! (Even in death, he’s still the huckstering publican.) 2. Goodbye, Mister Cheap-beer. 3. Cheap bier: even the bier is cheap at his bargain-basement funeral. (See above entry and note.) 4. Beginning of a list of bric-a-brac (.33) for sale: even in death, he’s still a huckstering salesman. 5. “Come where the boose is cheap:” music hall song; appears in “Cyclops” 77. 29: “liealoud blasses:” given the context, perhaps the brass plates on coffins, with their blatant lies 77.33: “inhumationary bric au brac:” now inhumed (buried, absorbed by soil) and hence no longer human: once solid (brick) fragmenting into (French au) something broken (bræc: an OE origin for break/broken), further disintegrating into (in-hume) the stuff of earth (Latin humus) 77.33-4: “bric au brac for the adornment of his Glasstone honophreum:” there are a number of monuments to Gladstone; according to Google Images the one in Edinburgh has enough bric-a-brac to compete with the Albert Memorial. 77.34: “Glasstone honophreum:” various eminent personages have had their bodies displayed (or sometimes, preserved) under glass; the most famous is of course Lenin, mentioned elsewhere in FW. As before, “People who live in glass houses…” is in the background; I.2’s assault on HCE was to the sound of breaking glass. 78.3: “stuffering stage, whaling away:” see next entry. Evidently, this spell of the afterlife/intralife is one of suffering, of wailing (away) and gnashing of teeth, until Zeus, with his “sumonserving” (.7) ("Hunderthunder" (.5)) thunder, summons him back. (Also overtones of HCE’s stuttering, and of whiling away the time, while waiting.) Perhaps “whaling” reflects his underwater venue: he will be forging ahead underwater, as at .8-9 an underground counterpart will be burrowing away through land. 78.4: “lethelulled between explosion and reexplosion:” in The Aeneid, souls drink from Lethe before reincarnation. 78.10: “seam by seam:” as in underground veins of minerals: a seam of coal, silver, etc. 78.12-13: “pots and pans and pokers and puns:” further testimony that he was (and will be again) a merchant as well as a publican. In addition to being a pub and hotel, FW’s Mullingar House serves as Chapelizod’s general store – one reason, probably, that 4.35 compares HCE’s abode to New York’s Woolworth Building, headquarters of the famous five-and-dime department stores. Mr. John K. McNulty, an American of Irish ancestry, remembers such pub-and-store combinations as being common, and kindly directs my attention to the Wikipedia entry on “Irish Pubs,” source of the following excerpt: "Irish pubs underwent a major transformation during the 19th century when a growing temperance movement in Ireland forced publicans to diversify their businesses to compensate for declining spirit sales. Thus, the ‘Spirit grocery’ was established. Pub owners combined the running of the pub with a grocery, hardware or other ancillary business on the same premises (in some cases, publicans also acted as undertakers, and this unusual combination is still common today in the Republic of Ireland.) Spirit groceries continued to operate through World War One when British law limited the number of hours that pubs could operate. Some spirit groceries continued after the war, only closing in the 1960s when supermarkets and grocery chain stores arrived." For passages suggesting that HCE is simultaneously publican and (in the sense given above) grocer, see 387.34-6, 411.17, 507.8-9, 618.3-4, and, especially 367.2: “And he grew back into his grossery baseness.” Also, the above datum about publicans serving as undertakers is, given the whole “Finnegan’s Wake”/FW story, at least noteworthy. Also perhaps worth noting is that as of Thom’s Directory, 1910, the inn was called the “Mullingar Hotel.” Finally, in addition to grocery and hardware items, the Mullingar was, according to one Irish Times notice, in the practice of supplying guests with fishing tackle and worms, presumably because its location on the Liffey was a favorite for fishermen – a feature which comes to the fore in III.3. 78.15: “The other spring offensive:” military campaigns typically begin in the spring. In Joyce’s time, the “Spring Offensive” was the March 21, 1918 attack of the German forces against the Allied lines. Meant to be a decisive blow, it was, at the time, the most massive assault in western military history. In many places it succeeded in overcoming western resistance, but by September of 1918 the momentum had been reversed. Failure to meet its objectives led to the eventual German defeat. 78.15-8: “Abraham…heights…Foughtarundser…Breedabrooda…septuply buried:” as sometimes elsewhere in FW, I can’t see how to connect the dots here, but Abraham as patriarch and Abraham Lincoln as father-figure presiding over a fractious people are both in the cluster. Abraham was buried in a mountainside, had seven (“septuply”) sons, and came close to killing one of them; Lincoln was president of a country when, as often said, brother fought brother and son fought father. 78.21: “portrifaction:” party faction: the (“dreyfussed” (.21)) Dreyfus case certainly stirred these up. 78.21: "dreyfussed:" 1. OED: to "dryfoot" is to "track game by the near scent of the foot." The specialty of bloodhounds, as employed by ("vigilante and ridings" (.20)) vigilantes of the Ku Klux Kan variety, with their night ridings. 2. “Dreyfussed:” the biblical term is “dry-shod.” Occurring in Isaiah, it is interpreted as describing the Exodus story of escape through the parted waters of the Red Sea. 78.24: “druiven:” McHugh notes that this means “grapes” in Dutch; I suggest, therefore, “grape-shot,” which (as in “a whiff of the grape”) is sometimes simply “grape.” Recalls the pebbles that were earlier thrown against the door of HCE’s dwelling 78.24: “muskating at the door:” mustering with muskets. Aside from the storm, I think the origin of this is the sound of customers pounding on the pub door to be let in – another assault from outside. Also, muskets and grapeshot were both weapons of the American Civil War, although the name for the former (increasingly replaced by rifles in the war’s last years) had become somewhat archaic. 78.27-8: “bluemin and pillfaces…had, moor or lets, grant ideas.” Again, American Civil War. Union soldiers wore blue. “Grant ideas:” General Ulysses Grant; grand ideas. Along with “pillfaces” this goes with the black-vs-white theme (in turn part of the Civil War theme) here: as McHugh points out, “bluemin” were captured moors. Also, “Wandering Rocks” attests that “palefaces” was an Irish term of derision for the English; a “blueman” is of course a Celtic warrior, his face painted blue. Also, blooming (skin glowing healthily) and pallid (the opposite) 78.28: "with the Pope or on the Pope:" given the capitalization of "Pope," along with the plethora of allusions to the American Civil War, probably General John Pope, a controversial Union general 78.28: “moors or letts:” moors come from the south and are dark-skinned; Letts originated in Latvia, to the far north, and would presumably be fair-skinned. Fits black-vs-white variations in this section 78.30: “the eternals were owlwise on their side every time:” God was always on their side. Many combatants have asserted as much, of course, certainly including the United States, during the Civil War and in every one of its wars for the next hundred or so years. Also, echo of “wise old owl” 78.31-2: “Bellona’s Black Bottom, once Woolwhite’s Waltz (Ohiboh, how becrimed becursekissed and bedumbtoit!):” gist: dancing has degenerated, from waltzing (by white couples) to the Black Bottom (by black gyrators): a common cry of cultural conservatives of the time. (Actually, probably, of all times.) The Black Bottom fad began as an African-American dance. 78.31-3: “(Ohiboh, how becrimed, becursekissed and bedumbtoit!):” cursing because “Woolwhite’s Waltz” reminds him of Winny Widger, on whom he ought to have wagered: compare 40.4. Also, more on the new dance craze (see previous entry): what was once pure has been tarnished and be-grimed (and blackened) – one sign of how today’s youth lacks “proper feeding” (.33): feeling, breeding. 78.32: Ohiboh:” Oh boy: American expression 78.33 “becursekissed:” be-carcassed. Perhaps overtone of “kiss of death” 78.36: “garroted:” “locked in a garret.” Let-the-punishment-fit-the-crime sentence to arty Bohemians like Shem 79.2: “old wugger:” wog or wogger: compare “wogger” in “Penelope.” Generally a colonist’s derisive term for a native. Also, earwig/Earwicker/old bugger. “Wig” in “earwig” is taken up in the next line. 79.3: “whiggissimus incarnadined:” (ultra)whiggishness incarnate. (Whig colors are buff and blue, not red.) Also, as McHugh notes, one of several of this chapter's quotations from Macbeth 79.3: “falsesighted:” foresighted – that is, foreseen (though falsely) 79.5: “Massa Ewacka:” conventional Southern slave dialect (compare Ulysses 14.1557); goes with American Civil War strain 79.7-15-6: “when a frond was a friend inneed:” because toilet paper was not yet invented, a leaf was a very good thing to have around. In "Cyclops," when the subject of toilet paper comes up, Lenehan's jokey "And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly" plays with the same idea. 79.18: “gigglibly:” visibly; glibly 79.20-2: “take her bare godkin out, or an even pair of hem, (lugod! Lugodoo!) and prettily pray with him (or with em even):” probably a reference to Michael Bodkin, Nora Barnacle’s first romantic interest, who, as retold in (named Michael Furey) “The Dead,” died for Gretta. Bod is Gaelic for penis. (About what Nora might have done with previous boyfriends, Joyce was curious, not to say obsessed.) 79.23: “tape petter:” tapette: French for flamboyant homosexual 79.25-6: “Arbour, bucketroom, caravan ditch? Coach, caravan, wheelbarrow, ditch:” both sequences seem to follow a downward path of status. I can’t find “bucketroom,” but a bucketshop is a place for unlicensed gambling or drinking; at 46.3 HCE is accused of running one “lower” – perhaps in his basement. 79.28-9: “dreariodreama setting, glowing and very vidual, of old dumplan as she nosed it:” dioramas were brightly lit (to make them more “vidual,” visible), and commonly depicted vistas from the past: here, “Old Dublin as We Knew It” – “nosed it” because being presented by Kate the garbage collector. (According to Richard D. Altick’s magnificent The Shows of London (p. 136), there was a panorama of Dublin on display in London’s Leicester Square. Compared to the earlier panoramas, dioramas were larger, sometimes three-dimensional (like those in New York’s Museum of Natural History), and, being scrolls on rollers, movable: the scene kept slowly shifting. (“Poole’s Myriorama,” mentioned in “Penelope,” was one famous example.) 79.30: “pusshies:” pussies (goes with ("duggies"), doggies. later in the same line) 79.31: “rubbages:” rubbishy cabbages: in “Circe” and “Ithaca,” old cabbage stumps are favorite mob missiles. 79.32: “gleefully:” at the end of the last I.2, the window-smashing was accompanied by a song for mixed voices – a glee. 79.32: “her weaker had turned him to wall:” HCE, the weaker side (and sex) of the marriage, probably because unable to survive the barrage of germs from Kate’s garbage tip, had turned his face to the wall (that is, had given up and died); compare “better half:” as “Widow Strong,” Kate was in fact the stronger half. “Weaker sex” customarily designated women, but not, for instance, for Charles Dana Gibson: the weaker sex in his collection of that name is represented by a dithery bachelor constantly being outmatched by Junoesque Gibson Girls. Joyce would have concurred: that women outlive men – that therefore, as here, widows far outnumber widowers – is a recurring theme. 80.1: “macadamized sidetracks:” tracks left by the sons of Adam 80.6: “Serpentine in Phornix Park:” melodramatic convention for fallen women of London to drown themselves in Hyde Park’s Serpentine (Shelley’s first wife did just that); “Phornix” seems to support this: as McHugh notes, fornix, by way of the Latin for the arches under which prostitutes were often to be found, signifies brothel. 80.11: “breechbowls:” bowl-shaped indentations in earth left by print of buttocks (in breeches) 80.13: “wolfsbelly castrament:” given context, this almost certainly includes the legendary founding of Rome: twins suckled by a she-wolf – from, as the pictures show, her belly. “Castrament:” Latin for fort or armed camp – pretty much what Rome was through much of its history 80.14: “Thursmen’s brandihands:” Thor’s fire would be lightning, here as punishment. Incendiary Viking invaders menacing sacred manuscripts (see McHugh) would be followers of Thor, with burning brands in their hands. 80.14: “leabhar:” German lieber: dear: the bundle/letter is also a baby, probably a foundling, like Moses. 80.15: “lust on Ma:” Boston, Mass: although “Ma” standing for Massachusetts is fairly new as an official address, Google Books shows a number of occurrences in Joyce’s time and before. (The Oedipus theme seems self-evident – though, on the other hand, if the expression of lust is lost on Mom, that means she’s not reciprocating.) Compare FW’s last (half) sentence, itself part of ALP’s letter: “A way a lone a last a long the”- Oxford editors have "a lost" after "a lone." 80.15-6: “ructions ended:” from the song “Finnegan’s Wake:” “A row and a ruction soon began” 80.16: “four hands:” two twins = four hands. (Same for the parents.) Also, the four hands, as in a game of whist or bridge, bring on “So pass the pick for child sake:” one version of a catch-phrase of the four old men. “Pick” as in “Pick a card, any card” 80.20-9: “For hear…Posidonius O’Fluctuary:” a mélange of religious references makes up this passage (and beyond). The centerpiece seems to be Jove/Zeus’s shrine at Dodona, second only to Delphi in prestige. It began as a pagan site (“propagana” (.20)) and was later adopted by the “krischnians” (.20). Its main feature was an oak grove, later a solitary oak tree. The oak was sacred to Jove, in part because it was believed to be especially susceptible to lightning strikes, the “Jove bolt” (.28) – thus, for example,” Melville’s reference, in Moby Dick, to a “thunder-cloven old oak.” (As in Vico, religion begins with humanity’s fear of thunder.) Aside from the “rude word” (.28) of thunder, Jove spoke through the rustling of the tree’s leaves in the wind – the “ward [word] of the wind” (.27). Eagles (.21) are of course the birds of Jove. A parallel kind of oak-worship puts Druids into the picture as well (.23-27:): “And it…flamenfan:” their priests cowing the populace by brandishing brands of branches from (sacred) oaks struck and set on fire by lightning. 80.21-3: “every morphyl man of us, pome by pome, falls back into this terrine:” some terrine recipes included/include processed (pommes) apples, some, processed (pommes de terre) potatoes. According to Paradise Lost, the fall in Eden (with its apple) "brought death into the world," making us mortal. 80.23: “as it was let it be:” “As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.” Compare 81.28 and note. 80.26: “timberman torchpriest:” may be pertinent that timbre is French for stamp: in III.1-2 the priest, Shaun, is also a postman. In any case, as noted above, the priesthood being described begins with tree worship. 80.27: “flamenfan:” fanning the flames 80.27: “ward of the wind:” word of the wind. See .20-9: again, Jove sometimes spoke through the sound of the wind in the trees. 80.29: “Posidonius O’Fluctuary:” Poseidon of the (fluctuating) waves. (Latin fluctus: a wave of the sea). Perhaps relevant that the philosopher of that name attempted to measure the moon’s influence on the tides 80.21: “Allhighest:” English version of Kaiser Wilhelm’s title, Allerhöchste 80.21: “sprack:” reference to Nietzsche’s Also Sprach Zarathustra 80.25: “obluvial:” ab-luvial: before the flood. (“Antediluvial” is the usual term.) Also, the (real, rare) word “abluvium:” the process of washing off 80.26: “noarchic:” not just without government: before government. Priestcraft – brand-waving thunder-interpreters – precedes statecraft. 80.26: “hastyswasty:” expression: haste makes waste 80.29: “bloody stone:” bloodstone, a mineral and the semi-precious gem cut from it; also known as a heliotrope. Becomes a big deal in II.1 80.29-30: “What are you doing your dirty minx and his big treeblock way up your path?:” in one of his letters to Nora, Joyce uses “block” to mean “fuck.” (In “Penelope,” Molly Bloom uses the word in what seems the same sense.) Given that this segment is set just after the waters of Noah’s flood (“the obluvial of our noarchic memory” (80.25)) have withdrawn, the speaker here may be demanding that the stocks and stones be put back where they came from: the presence of boulders in strange and high-up places used to be explained as residues of Noah’s flood by divines not wanting to deal with Lyell’s geologic version. I’m guessing that a “treeblock” is a stump; haven’t been able to confirm. 80.31-3: “take that barrel back…Hatchettsbury Road!” as noted earlier, Huckleberry (“Hatchettsbury”) Finn’s father lives in a barrel. 80.33: “gish!” Gosh! – a distinctively American expression. Also, Glasheen cites this as referring to Lillian Gish, popular film ingenue of the silent era. May be pertinent that Lillian often costarred with her sister Dorothy; Issy is usually one of a pair of girls. 80.34: “pennyfares…Issy-la-Chapelle!:” informed guess here: in “Wandering Rocks,” Father Conmee pays a penny for a tram trip of about two miles. The trip from the center of Dublin to the Chapelizod stop would be three miles. One would have to be sure of the year here, but I suggest that the passengers here are also paying a penny fare. 80.34: “school:” as in school of fish: a reminder that the setting is (to be sure, in part) still underwater 81.2: “not trespassing on his corns:” not stepping on his feet, which are buried – therefore, not walking over his grave, an ancient taboo. Double sense of “corns” reminds us that, following Frazer and The Golden Bough (as McHugh points out, alluded to at 80.27), the interred figure is a “cropse” (54.9). 81.2: "plotsch:" Yiddish plotz, to burst from extreme emotion 81.3: “If this was Hannibal’s walk it was Hercules’ work:” Hannibal crossed the Alps; Hercules shoveled shit. Here, those two go together: big shots get to parade around only if the proles do the dirty work first. See next entry. 81.4: “And a hungried thousand of the unemancipated slaved the way:” probably a reference to “famine roads:” pointless going-nowhere roads built by Irish laborers, required by their British overlords in return for any aid dispensed during the Famine. (Note “emaciated” nested in “unemancipated.”) See “resurfaced,” 81.13. 81.5: “O Adgigasta, multipopulipater!:” about Agdistes, the Phrygian deity noted by McHugh: Brewer says that he/she “sprang from the stone Agdus, parts of which were taken by Deucalion and Pyrrha to cast over their shoulders for repeopling the world after the flood” – hence “multipopulipater.” 81.7: “Hermes:” herms 81.7: “omnibus:” given context (public transportation), in sense of bus 81.8: “secular seekalarum. Amain:” see McHugh, and 80.23 and note. A number of Catholic prayers and blessings end with the words “saecula saeculorum. Amen.” 81.8-9: “So more boher O’Connell:” Oxford editors insert a “to” after “boher.” With independence, the name of Dublin’s main thoroughfare was changed from Sackville Street to O’Connell Street. 81.10-11: “And if he’s not a Romeo you may scallop your hat:” a variation on “If [such and such] doesn’t happen, I’ll eat my hat.” The expression was in circulation well before Joyce’s time. 81.10-11: “Romeo” and “scallop:” in close proximity, take us to the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet and go on about palmers and pilgrims. Scallop shells were tokens of pilgrimages to Campostella. 81.13: "rupestric then, resurfaced that now is:" Editors of Joyce's Notebook VI.B.5.136 have this for Joyce's entry of "rupestre:" "Fr. Rupestre. Rupestrine, or rupestrian, pertaining to rocks: applied for example to plants that grow on rocks, or to caves, cave paintings or cave-dwellers:" Before being resurfaced, the road being described used to have enough cracks for flowers to sprout. 81.13: “resurfaced that now is:” follows up on .9-13 - that, however “rhinohide” (.10) they may be, wet Irish weather can be tough on roads, including O’Connell Street. 81.14: “in the saddle of:” in the shadow of. Also, OED has “saddle” as “a saddle-shaped depression between two hills:” hence a mountain “pass” (.15), hence of interest to highwaymen intent on waylaying travelers. Compare next entry. 81.14: “saddle of the Brennan’s:” aside from the meaning cited in the preceding entry, the highwayman Brennan (“Brennan on the Moor”) would of course be seated in a saddle. 81.15-6: “versts and versts from true civilisation, not where his dreams top their traums halt:” Dublin trams all halted at Nelson’s Pillar, on O’Connell Street; the urban speaker here measures civilization by its proximity to the city’s center. Nelson's Pillar, while it existed, was in fact the point from which distance was measured. 81.16-8: “Beneathere! Benathere!:” according to McHugh’s The Finnegans Wake Experience, the conductor on the tram to Howth is shouting its Gaelic name, Beinn Éadair. Oxford editors change the “Benathere!” to Beneathere!” 81.17: “wilde:” at least as much Jonathan Wild, the highwayman, as Oscar Wilde in play here; see second note to .14, note to 540.28. 81.17: “meared:" mere, a swamp 81.17: “saltlea:” lea: a pasture or meadow. Probably “saltlick” is in there too. 81.18: “the attackler…under medium:” a tackler, as in rugby, here being assessed by height 81.21: “plunder[s] sake:” one of many phrases relative to the highway robber thread 81.22: “chickenestegg:” nest egg – this one a chicken’s 81.25: “hemosphores:” the “hemo-” – Latin “blood” – here enables us to fill in the blanks in the expurgated “b --- y” of the next line: the word is "bloody." Also, the hemispheres of the brain. It was well-known in Joyce’s time that the brain was bicameral and that to some extent the two hemispheres were functionally specialized. Shem and Shaun, corresponding respectively to the left-handed and right-handed sides of their father, may similarly divide up his brain: at 564.1-565.5 an account of the principal’s two buttocks is simultaneously surveying a head (and its interior) which, like the victim of the park attack, has received a serious beating (525.25) marked especially by “a scarlet pimparnell [which] now mules the mound where anciently first murders were wanted to take root” (525.28-9). Finnegan fell from a ladder and broke his skull; the unconscious protagonist of FW is apparently recovering from a head wound; after the attack he was bloody and suffering from “contusiums” (84.11). 81.27-8: “as smart as the b - r had his b - y nightprayers said, three patrecknocksters and a couplet of hellmuirries:” in Sean O’Casey’s 1922 Juno and the Paycock, an informer, about to be taken out to be shot, is told to bring his rosary “beads” with him – he’ll be killed as soon as he’s finished praying. (The same courtesy is afforded in Frank O’Connor’s “Guests of the Nation.”) 81.30: “plugg:” plug: slang for shoot 81.31: “holst:” hold, holster. More about the highwaymen 81.31: “oblong bar:” I have never quite understood Joyce’s use of the word “oblong” here, but in any event this article shares the same basic golf-club-like outline as the other weapons and disputed objects of the encounter – a long or longish rod with an extension or appendage or bend on one side, at one end: pipe (with bowl (35.12)), crowbar (bent end), revolver (with handle), knobkerry (McHugh has “roundheaded stick,” but Google Images makes clear that “knobheaded” would be a more accurate term; in some the knob extends from one side of the end only); hurley stick (with curve at end); “toboggan poop” (no such term extant, but a toboggan is essentially a sled – not, to be sure, a stick, but looks like one when seen from the side - with an upward curve at the end, and a ship’s poop extends upward from the deck, at one end); a thief’s crowbar-like “curb;” a hiker’s alpenstock. Except for the pipe, from an earlier chapter, the items just listed will be noted in their order of appearance, beginning with the next entry. 81.31-2: “with which he usually broke furnitures:” a crowbar: a bar bending in a curve at one end. In “Penelope,” Boylan’s erection has reminded Molly of a crowbar; erect cock-and-balls would also, roughly, fit the outline, especially considering “rose the stick at him” (.32). 81.34-5: “Wei-Ling-Taou or de Razzkias trying to reconnoistre the general Boukeleff:” Russo-Japanese War. Oxford editors and McHugh both change “Taou” to “Taon.” 81.34-5: “de Razzkias trying to reconnoistre:” “razz:” Americanism for deliberately annoying someone 81.35: “Boukeleff:” is obviously the Buckley of II.3, but also the assassinated General Bobrikoff mentioned in “Aeolus.” 82.3: “purple top and tipperuhry Swede:” purple: a signifier of royalty. A Tipperary native, by contrast, would likely be a bumpkin, at the other extreme of the hierarchy; that they are both turnips makes this a case of equal-opposites. (On the other other hand, both are pretty dim. In III.3, the fight is remembered as one of a “pigheaded Swede” versus a “turniphudded dunce” (517.6-7).) 82.4: “toller man:” probably because the encounter was accompanied by the sound of a “toller” (35.32 – the church bells tolling) 82.5: “miner:” minor. Pederasty theme 82.7: “three vats, two jars:” twins’ 3-2 signature 82.7-9: “though we purposely say nothing of the stiff, both parties having an interest in the spirits):” they’re ignoring the “stiff” (the wake’s dead body) because they’re more interested in the drinks being served. 82.10: “pause for refleshmeant:” the phrase was of course around before, but by the time Joyce began Work in Progress, Coca Cola’s slogan “the pause that refreshes” was ubiquitous. Also, “fleshmeat:” archaic term for food. Also, wrestlers sometimes take mutual timeouts – pauses – to catch their breath. 82.12: “oggly chew-chin-grin:” stage-Chinaman idiom. Compare Bloom’s “Blingy pigfoot evly night” routine in “Circe.” In FW, usually signifies subservience and/or mental deficiency 82.12: “victolios:” McHugh notes that a “Victoria” was “a sovereign [pound] minted during Victoria’s reign;” just to confuse matters, Victoria’s profile was also embossed on British pennies and halfpennies; as I’ve noted elsewhere, they were common, in both Ireland and England, well into the second half of the twentieth century. To further confuse matters, the Irish currency I first encountered (1967) was clearly taking English currency as a prototype – Irish pounds had the same size and shape as the British equivalent – even while the rate of exchange might vary significantly. 82.13: “fifteen pigeon:” probably referring to bird pictured on the obverse of Irish coins, introduced in the de Valera (82.13) regime. That the coins are a mixture of old English and new Irish obviously pertains to the political overtones at work here. Compare the “chicking” coin of 313.22. 82.13: “stlongfella:” given stage-Chinese patter (e.g. “l” for “r”), probably an overtone of Strongbow, the original English invader. Aside from being known for their polite formality (“strong fellow” is certainly polite, especially for one’s antagonist in the ring), Orientals are as a rule smaller and are or were presumed to be physically weaker than westerners. 82.14: “picky-pocky:” pickpocket. (Obvious?) 82.14: “foul months:” foul mouth – referring to the expurgated obscenities of 81.25-6 82.14: “behindaside:” “behind” on the rent 82.15: “severe tries to convert:” several tries at converting one currency to another; also, to converse, probably also to convert religiously 82.16: “woden affair in the shape of a Webley:” see 81.31 and note. Webleys were the standard service revolvers of the British military; in 1919-1920 they were the weapons of the Black and Tans and Auxiliaries. Some revolvers, including Webleys, have/had wooden handles. Perhaps pertinent that Woden was the (equally fearsome) English Odin. 82.17...32: “Ned…Hill:” Ned of the Hill, 18th century Irish highwayman. Compare 477.6. 82.17: “illortemporate:” ll-timed, ill-tempered 82.19-21: “(did…pigtail?):” compare 157.8-158.4. 82.20: “flout:” also flaunt. The two words, like affect-effect, are often confounded with one another. 82.21: “whereupon became friendly:” because he’s accidently dropped his weapon and lost his advantage 82.22: “knobkerries:” see note to 81.31. 82.23-4: “who stuck still to the invention of his strongbox:” sequence imitates or anticipates classic Jack Benny routine: mugger: “Your money or your life!” Pause. “I said, your money or your life!” Benny: “I’m thinking it over!” 82.24: “strongbox:” perhaps also a peddler’s box; HCE is sometimes (e. g. 45.28-46.4), characterized as a salesman, traveling or otherwise, and see .28 and note. 82.24: “corrobberating:” in line with highwayman theme: “robber” in “corrobberating.” 82.25: “tenitorial rights:” in Joyce’s Dublin, tenant’s rights – and almost everyone was a tenant – were negligible. 82.25-6: “happened to have the loots change of a tenpound crickler:” again: disarmed, he suddenly changes the story: not demanding money, but asking if the other man can make change for a ten-pound note – innocent enough, but far-fetched, surely, given that ten pounds during the FW years would be worth close to a thousand dollars today. 82.25: “loots change:” loose change (equivalent to the “Spare change?” of today’s panhandlers); also, least chance 82.26: “tenpound crickler:” a newly printed ten-pound note – and surely there couldn’t have been many in common circulation - would make a crackling noise. (Compare “crackler” (.34).) 82.27: “vics:” see .12 and note. 82.28: “man of samples:” Jesus, man of sorrows, as travelling salesman. (Not exactly wrong, surely.) Leopold Bloom’s father was, for a time, such a man of samples. 82.30: “mummed and mauled:” mummed and mowed; hummed and hawed 82.31: “carried to excelcism:” carried to extreme 82.33: “loo, as the least chance:” Loose change? Again (see .25 and note), standard beggar’s petition 82.36: “as you suggest, it being Yuletide or Yuddanfest:” a (probably deliberate) misprision of “last Yuni or Yuly” (.28): he takes or pretends to take his assailant’s words as a pleading reference to the holiday season and finds in it an excuse for ending the encounter by making a payment; his hesitation between Christian and Jewish holidays reflects his nervous desire not to offend. 82.36: “mad nuts:” here we go, gathering nuts in May. Also, “nuts” is American slang for mad. Given Hitler’s presence in the next line, probably a Bugs Bunnyish overtone of mad Nazi – “Nutsies” 83.1: “hatter’s hares:” Herr Hitler, with his distinctive hairdo. Also, in Tenniel’s illustration to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter has loose strands of hair sticking out from under his hat. 83.1: “mon” (Monday) goes with “son” (Sunday) of 82.36. 83.2: “hopping and trapping:” former and perhaps latter cued by “hares” (.1); at .6 “wick’s ears pricked up.” 83.3: “boy baches:” The Boy Bacchus: painting by Guido Reni 83.7-8: that the thorntree of a sheol might ramify up his Sheofon to the lux apointlex but he would:” hyperbolically: Bugger me if I don’t… Given context, “thorntree” is probably blackthorn – the bush has thorns - from which blackthorn sticks (shillelaghs) are made. Being buggered with one, to the maximum extent, would be painful in the extreme, especially if it then preceded to ramify – branch out. Gist: an extravagant vow to pay his benefactor back some day, or to suffer the worst imaginable torments if he does not. 83.9: “go good to him:” pay him back 83.10-1: “the Nichtian glossery which purveys aprioric roots:” Nietzsche, like other leading thinkers of his time, was a student of etymology. “Sprogues” at 82.13 is “sprach,” a Nietzschean tag. 83.11: “purveys apriori roots for aposteriorious tongues:” indulges in folk-etymology 83.14: “eluded to at some lives earlier:” alluded to, some lines earlier 83.14-5: “the wartrophy eluded at some lives earlier was that somethink like a jug:” perhaps the “strongbox” (82.24) disputed in the encounter; definitely not the weapon. In any case, it was alluded to, some lines earlier. 83.15: “languidoily:” languid and oily – lounge lizard manner: a harsh characterization of the love lyrics of the trouvères, written in Langue d’Oïl. 83.17: “the foretaste of the Dun Bank pearlmothers:” if one believes that FW has a definite date (I do: March 21-22), this helps confirm by ruling out May, June, July, and August, all of which lack an r and are therefore off-limits for oysters, which are, because they create pearls, “pearlmothers.” 83.22: “funeral fare or fun fain real:” Hamlet: “The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage feast.” 83.22: “Quantity Street:” quality, in the sense of high-class. (J.M. Barrie’s 1901 play Quality Street is set on an upper-class street of that name.) Maybe informed by Hegel’s – later Marx’s – observation that quantity becomes quality 83.27: “Goalball:” (also goal ball, goal-ball) a field game popular in schools in the early 20th century 83.28: “some bully German grit:” "bully" was a term of high praise, popularized by President Theodore Roosevelt. “Grit” (like “sand,” meaning masculine toughness) obviously goes along with this – as, come to think, does “German.” Roosevelt was president in 1904, and I think we pick up some of Joyce’s version of his blustery rhetoric in “Oxen of the Sun” and “Circe.” 83.28: “German grit:” 1. A distinctive kind of chamber used in sewage disposal; 2. A nationalistic term for Teutonic toughness 83.30: “friend’s leave:” French sleeve – a fashionable style of sleeve. Goes with the tailoring elements in the vicinity, especially “tucked” 83.32-3: “the pax in embrace or pogue puxy as practiced by brothers of the same breast:” one of many allusions to the Claddagh Ring, with its design of two hands meeting to hold a crowned heart. Always or almost always associated with the twins. In some traditions, a Joyce was the originator. 83.34: “killelulia:” hallelulia 83.35: “god of the day:” sun 83.36: “turned his fez:” unlike, for instance, a baseball cap, a fez has no back or front, so it wouldn’t usually be possible to tell which way it was turned. Widely worn in (see next entry) the Levant. 84.2: “levanted: here, besides meaning “absconded,” headed east, toward the Levant. Moscow (and Mecca), of course, would also be to the east. Given this context, “menialstrait” may encompass Damascus’ “street called Straight,” which ran west-east. 84.3: “spitting his teeths on rooths:” en route. Also, he’s spitting out his teeth (from their roots) because they were knocked loose in the fight just recorded. Also, Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth 84.4: “hurlbat:” hurley bat (or stick): see note to 81.31. 84.6: “toboggan poop:” see note to 81.31. McHugh has “tobacco pipe,” which fits the standard profile running through this chapter and may have provided the original. 84.9: “confederate:” the Confederacy of the American Civil War. Famously the war (see 83.33) in which brother fought brother. May also extend money/bogus money strain – after the war, Confederate dollars became synonymous with worthlessness. 84.14: “the O’Daffy:” see McHugh; the context (street violence, “military salute,” “nobiloroman review” (O’Duffy’s followers, like Hitler’s gave the Roman salute), “jugglemonkysh agripment,” (and see note to .23, below)) certainly applies. Also, “daffy” as slang for daft; compare 82.36 and note. (In a 1933 letter, written in the year Hitler assumed power, Lucia records Joyce's belief that "all the germans have gone daffed." Compare note to .23.) Also, “the O’Daffy” signals that he’s the head of the tribe. 84.15: “conclusium:” not “conclusion:” “nobiloroman” (Latin) influence 84.16: “agripment:” as in, gripping hands in a handshake. Given previous Roman context (see two previous entries) Marcus Agrippa, Roman builder and ally of Augustus, seems the likeliest candidate. 84.17: “fomentation of poppyheads:” an opium fomentation – a mixture of liquid opium, mixed with other substances and sometimes infused into a cloth poultice – was anciently prescribed for headaches and (in this case) head injuries. 84.19: “the white ground of his face:” OED: “ground:” in painting, “a main surface or first coating of colour, serving as a support for other colours or background for designs;” here, the color is white. 84.19-20: “diagonally redcrossed mammalian blood:” compare “thin red lines” of 9.3. On the Union Jack, which has a “white ground” (see previous note), the diagonal red cross is “Saint Patrick’s Cross” (a.k.a. “Saint Patrick’s Saltire”), representing Ireland. In other words, it’s the ("Paddybanners" (.13)) Paddy banner. 84.20: “proofpositive:” defining blood type, as in O positive. (“Proof” may indicate its alcoholic content.) Also, positive proof 84.23: “hitter’s hairs:” again (see 83.1 and note) Herr Hitler. Joyce made the change from the original “his hairs” at some point between 1936 and 1938; Hitler had been in power since 1933. 84.25-7: “not one of the two hundred and six bones…was a whit the whorse:” in Christian tradition, Psalms 34:20 is believed to predict that Christ’s killers will “number” his bones but not break any of them. Also, the expression behind this: beating a dead horse. (Actually, a dead white horse, perhaps William’s big white one.) 84.27: “Herwho?:” Herr who? See .23 and note. 84.30: “wurming:” warming, as in blindman’s bluff: You’re getting warm! 84.33-4: “boney’s unlawfully obtaining a pierced paraflamme and claptrap fireguard:” an exceptionally scrambly passage. A “fireguard” in the usual sense is a fireplace fender, so we would seem to be back with the disputed “fender” of I.3 (63.7). But why would purchasing such an item be unlawful? (Or, has he stolen it? An odd choice, I’d think.) On the other hand, at least one 1822 description of a standard musket includes a “fire-guard” as a component of the firing mechanism, and Google Books yields several cases of paraflamme as French for a steam engine’s smokeless tube; together they might (barely) point to some of the components of the pistol in dispute – and yes, British law would certainly be against the captive ("boney's" (compare 83.26)) Napoleon Bonaparte obtaining one. 84.34: “pierced paraflamme:” paraffin, long used for candle-like flames. Google Books for 1917 shows that a “Pierce Paraffin Sprayer” was being marketed. No idea what it was 85.1-2: ”bottol…burral:” bottle and barrel: again, I believe that FW’s letter, and therefore the book itself, is/was, in Book I, a letter in a (Shemian) bottle; in III.1-2 its vessel will have become a barrel of the tub-thumping Shaun. 85.2: “crewsers:” the ship’s crew 85.6: “to hole him:” to put a hole through him (with a bullet); given maritime thread, it’s probably pertinent that ships are sunk by being “holed below the waterline.” 85.7: “the pacific subject:” that is, an obedient citizen, according to the motto of the Dublin coat of arms. Given naval strain, perhaps also an allusion to the Pacific; the Atlantic appears at .20. 85.9: “thrufahrts:” thoroughfares 85.10: “curb:” see McHugh. The OED quotes Robert Greene: “Then doth [the curbert] thrust in a long hooke some nine foote in length (which he calleth a curbe) that hath at the end of a crooke with three times turned contrary.” See 81.31 and note. 85.11: “alpenstuck:” McHugh: alpenstock. Yet again, see 81.31 and note: according to Google images, most alpenstocks have the handle extending in one direction only or, sometimes, asymmetrically - one end of the handle longer than the other. 85.12: “in his redhand:” caught red-handed. Also (compare 521.4) a symbol of Ulster 85.12: “number two:” American baby-talk for going to the toilet: doing number one is pissing; doing number two is shitting. 85.14-5: “on the brink (beware to baulk a man at his will!) of taking place upon a seat, to what, bare by Butt’s:” to wit, bare butt, on the seat of a public toilet; “butt” is an Americanism. 85.15: “most easterly (but all goes west!):” especially during the day, Ireland’s – and Dublin’s – prevailing winds are westerly. The sense here is that even if the defecation is in the easternmost part of the city, the winds will – alas! – carry the stench to the west – worse, up the “windrush” (208.22) of the Liffey. (Compare 95.2, where Dublin’s prevailing wind currents also play a mephitic role.) Not likely accidental that the next subject of judicial inquiry, Festy King, will be accused of “making fesses” feces, in Ireland’s far west (.30). 85.15: “most easterly…of blackpool bridges:” England’s west-coast Blackpool is of course far to the east of Dublin. 85.17: “[wrath]bereaved ringdove:” i.e. mourning dove 85.17: praisegood:” along with “bare by Butt's" (.14-5), above, I think this spells out Praisegod Barebones, a roundhead ranter mentioned in “Cyclops” 85.18: "fearstung boaconstrictor:" Joyce's entry in Notebook VI.B.16.145: "snake / bites / out of / fear." His source reads, "a snake never really attacks a man, only bites out of fear." 85.18-9: “right jollywell pleased:” stage-English idiom 85.20: “Phenitia Proper:” proper finish – “proper” in British sense (and, again - see previous entry - a distinctive British idiom) satisfactorily performed 85.21: “headway:” against winds 85.22-3: “a child of Maam, Festy King:” McHugh: “scene of Maamtrasna murders in 1882 for which Myles Joyce [was] executed after unsound trial.” FW’s version of the trial, extending from here to 93.20, is as mixed-up as anything in the book. Very likely this is deliberate. In Joyce’s work, trials are always messes and always result in injustice. Joyce’s essay “Ireland at the Bar” is mainly about the Maamtrasna case. Maamtrasna is about 35 miles north of Galway, in what is sometimes called “Joyce country.” Partly for that reason, the trial was moved to Dublin (not London’s “Old Bailey” (.26)). The initial event, the murder of bailiffs – bill-collectors – by locals, occurred on February 2, 1882, the day Joyce was born. It was followed by the murder of one John Joyce, for fear that he would turn king’s evidence. Three of John Joyce’s accused killers, Patrick Joyce, Patrick Casey, and Myles Joyce, were convicted and hanged. Then and now, the consensus is that the first two were probably guilty but that Myles Joyce was not. Myles Joyce is the focus of James Joyce’s essay. Myles Joyce spoke only Gaelic and the officials spoke only English. James Joyce’s essay emphasizes the confusions resulting and thinks, as have others, that they may well have contributed to Myles Joyce’s conviction and execution. “Child of Maam” very likely recalls Myles Joyce’s last words, the Gaelic for “I am as innocent as the child in the cradle.” That “Festy King” (.22), the main figure in the trial sequence, is both accused and accuser, may – this is speculation – reflect the Joyce-vs-Joyce (a Joyce executed for murdering a Joyce) component of the events, as well as the internecine issues involved in the business of “turning king’s evidence.” Joyce’s essay calls Myles Joyce “the patriarch of a miserable tribe;” in FW he is introduced as “of a family long and honoroubly associated with the tar and feather industries” (.23-4). Festy King identifies himself as “Gallwegian” (93.5: “gall,” of which he certainly has his share, probably adds the extra “l”). A good deal of his testimony is against his father. English and Gaelic are at odds throughout the sequence, coming to a head at the heavily Gaelic thunderword of 90.31-3, after which, for a while anyway, he changes his name to “Pegger Festy” (91.1) and, having “murdered all the English he knew” (93.2), leaves the stand, scot-free, mooning and farting at the court. My main source here has been Father Padraic O Laoi’s Nora Barnacle Joyce: A Portrait Galway, 1982), 74-7. For further information, see Margaret Kelleher, The Maamtrasna Murders: Life and Death in Nineteenth Century Ireland (Dublin, 2018), and her essay "'Ireland at the Bar': James Joyce, Myles Joyce, and the Maamtrasna Trials Revisited," James Joyce Quarterly 58, 4, pp. 417-40. 85.27: “framed:” in the sense of being unjustly charged by the prosecutor or police, who doctor the evidence against you 85.28: “on both the counts:” see .12 and note. 85.28: “equinoxious:” equally noxious. The previous line has “calends of Mars,” noted by McHugh as March 1 and the Roman new year. Working out ancient-vs-modern calendar equivalences is a classic can of worms, but if the two could go together, and…well, again, your annotator believes that FW is set on the date Nora Barnacle was born, March 21 – the vernal equinox and in some traditions the new year. 85.30: “ouveralls:” in America, anyway, it was a rich source of bumpkin humor that the kind of overalls called long johns came with a buttoned-up back flap. See 109.12, 507.10. 85.30: “immodst:” immodest 85.32: “in dry dock, appatently ambrosiaurealised:” apparently (and patently) inebriated. “Dry dock” here seems the maritime equivalent to what Americans call the drunk tank, the cell into which drunks are put in order to dry out. Also, perhaps obviously: the prisoner in the dock 85.33: “Kersse’s Korduroy Karikature:” “Kersse” introduces the tailor who will figure prominently in II.3: this outfit is a caricature of his craft. K…K…K gives us yet another American allusion, to the Ku Klux Klan – despite contemporary mythography to the contrary widely recognized as a collection of no-account lowlifes: compare the lynch mob of “deadwood dicks” in “Cyclops.” (Digression: not widely known, I believe, that the head of a local Klan chapter is called the “Grand Cyclops;” I would bet that Joyce knew this when he wrote the “Cyclops” chapter of Ulysses.) Corduroy was conventional clothing of the lower orders, especially agricultural 86.3: “copperas:” coppers: British pennies: a reminder of the currency confusion during the encounter under scrutiny 86.4-5: “stick fire:” fire-stick: before matches, essentially a brand, a stick of burning wood for starting a fire; here, probably a (typically) garbled memory of the menacing contraption introduced in this chapter (the pipe of 35.12, both weapon (stick) and smoking implement (fire), may have been the prototype) at 81.31. 86.6: “coold raine:” old queen (French reine) – the Victoria whose image was on those pennies, still in circulation; compare Stephen in “Telemachus:” “a crazy queen, old and jealous.” “Cold:” perhaps: dead; at least at one point, at least in America, “cooled,” among medical interns, meant “died.” In “Cyclops” the persistent presence of Victoria coins, three years after her death, is one example of the scores (thousands, if you count the words) of fossils on display. 86.7: “crown…King:” in other words, the case is one of the crown vs. the king – not so much equal opposites as opposite equals. Semi-mimicked by closeness of “[P.] C. – Robort” – Crobort - and “Crowbar” (.7, .8) 86.8: “crowbar:” see 81.31-2 and note. 86.9-11: "rubbed some pixes of any luvial peatsmoor o'er his face, plucks and pussas, with a clanetourf as the best means of disguising himself:" in her James Joyce Quarterly article (see 85.22-3 and note), Margaret Kelleher records that "the murder party had blackened faces and therefore could not be identified clearly by the Joyce crown witnesses." 86.9: “any luvial:” anteluvial; the “peat” makes him look like a ("peatsmoor") moor:” i.e. in blackface 86.11: “middlewhite:” middleweight: category for boxers – but also (see .25 and note) for gamecocks 86.12: “feishts of Peeler and Pole:” feast day of Peter and Paul is June 29. 86.15-6: “nine hundred and ninetynine years:” a frequent legal term in building and property contracts; note “landed” at .17. 86.18: “trifling:” trefoil: shamrock 86.18: “suckling:” baby (being suckled); suckling pig 86.21: “Ouraganisations:” orangutan, perhaps because English caricatures of Irish peasants made them look simian 86.21-2: “to help the Irish muck to look his brother dane in the face:” an expression perhaps unfamiliar to Americans: to be able to look someone in the face is to have earned the right to consider yourself his equal. (Here, on the other hand, it’s a pig’s face you’d be looking into.) 86.23: “Larry:” FW’s usual keeper of order 86.25: “cockofthewalking through a few fancyfought mains:” according to Wiktionary, a main is a match at cockfighting – fitting for a meeting of angry agriculturists (.20-1). “Fancyfought, etc.” recalls the facetiously overwritten sports reporting parodied in “Cyclops.” (American example, from fairly recent past, on a Boston Red Sox home run: “Another Herculean clout for the Crimson Hose!”) 86.28: "ate a whole side of his (the animal's) sty:" in an interlinerar typescript note, Joyce has "she ate a whole lot of the woodwork." 86.32-5: “Remarkable evidence was given, anon, by an eye, ear, nose and throat witness…situate at Nullnull, Medical Square:” Oscar Wilde’s father, an eye and ear specialist, lived at Two Merrion Square; Merrion Square was/is the center of Dublin’s medical establishment. As the accused, he was involved in a notorious court case involving charges of sexual mistreatment. 86. 35-6: “cover-disk” is the term for a mechanical flap over a tube or barrel - see 408.29; also 471.12-5, where Shaun’s barrel’s top is blown off. 86.35: “peacegreen:” peagreen 87.3: “morse mustaccents:” in Morse code, two dashes stands for “M” (alliterated in “morse mustaccents”) and would rhythmically echo the spondee of “gobbless!,” contraction of “God bless!” I suggest as well that the dashes can be envisioned as the two sides of a moustache – perhaps, as at 182.25, moistened with vaseline. 87.5: “hatinaring:” throwing your hat in the air is a traditional celebratory gesture. Throwing your hat in the ring means running for public office. 87.7: “all one with:” for a while now, the testimony has seemed to assume that dates are all one with one another: vernal and autumnal equinox, June with January, yesterday with today and tomorrow. 87.9: “pigstickularly:” pigstick: boar hunt 87.11: “patrified:” gratified, petrified 87.12: “Hyacinth O’Donnell:” H. O’D. – hod, which Tim Finnegan carried 87.13: “mixer and wordpainter:” wordpainting – richly descriptive prose. Also, painters mix their paints on their palettes. 87.19: “noncommunicables:” unmentionables – underwear 87.19-20: “wallops:” blows in a fight; compare 445.25 87.21: “boer’s trespass on the bull:” idea here may be that a wild boar encroached on fenced ranchland occupied by cattle. Cattlemen vs. hunter-gatherers. (As usual, the pattern and the indictment may be reversed.) In any case, ever since “Ireland at the Bar,” an early essay about a native Irishman named Myles Joyce who was convicted and hanged as a result of multiple mistranslations between Gaelic and English, trial scenes in Joyce’s work epitomize confusion and miscommunication. (And, of course, injustice) 87.21-2: “he firstparted his polarbeeber hair in two way:” don’t know how far back it goes, but to pick a fight with someone “because you don’t like the way he parts [or combs] his hair” has, ever since I can recall, been the standard descriptor of some absurdly truculent person. Brewer, in an annotation preceding FW, says that “To comb his hair the wrong way” means to “cross him by running counter to his prejudices, opinions, or habits.” Perhaps relevant that a “beardsplitter” is a compulsive lothario. 87.22-3: “they were creepfoxed and grousuppers over a nippy in a noveletta:” general sense, they were fighting for the affections of a young woman, here being or resembling the romantic heroine in a novelette. Compare 157.1-158.5, also 414-.22-419.10, where the Ondt/ant gets the girl(s). In addition to grasshopper and ant, possible overtone of fox and geese, another set of natural animal-kingdom enemies 87.24: “could not say meace (mute and daft) meathe:” a shibboleth test. As noted elsewhere (.e.g. note to 21.18-9), the standard FW example is Sicilian Italian for “chickpeas,” “ciciri:” the soft c should be pronounced “ch.” 87.25: “congsmen:” king’s men; Shakespeare’s King’s Men 87.28: “egged on:” besides being encouraged, pelted with eggs. Equal-opposites 87.28: “Carrothagenuine ruddiness:” compare Stephen on the red-haired Elizabeth I: “carroty Bess.” 87.28-9: “waving crimson petties:” a leg (and – pieds - foot) show, performed by women wearing red stockings (or, perhaps, shoes) 87.30: “thicksets:” thick-set: muscular and probably dumb: these are the court’s heavies. 88.1: “Stop and Think:” I speculate that this is some kind of familiar proclamation which has come to stand for the vicinity it’s in – rather like the “Cease to do evil” remembered in “Hades.” 88.2: "evervirens:“ environs, as in “Howth Castle and Environs” (.3.3) – not coincidentally, the last words in a half sentence beginning with “riverrun.” “Evervirens” would seem to fuse the two. 88.3: “widowed moon:” a moon left hanging in the sky after the sun has set. Given the heavily American cast of this section, I suggest that this refers to the “Almanac Trial,” in which the lawyer Abraham Lincoln discredited a witness by showing that, contrary to his testimony, the moon on the night in question was not full but rather in an early phase and either had set or was on the verge of setting. It was therefore, according to the definition, a widowed moon. 88.6: “audible-visible-gnosible-edible world:” in other words, in the convergence of senses available to synesthesists? Answers of .7-10 (and .17-8) indicate the affirmative, although all the catalogues on the page leave out the sense of touch. (The omission may be in line with evolutionary theory: cellular life begins with touch; other senses follow. Tactility does put in an appearance at 92.22, albeit as a list of missing senses. Joyce's note in Notebook VI.B.5.091: "all senses = touch" 88.6: “gnosible:” gnosis, nose-able: able to smell 88.10-11: “he thought he heard he saw he felt he made a bell clipperclipperclipperclipper:” with overtone of Pavlov, a memory of hearing the alarm clock while half asleep: almost all the (again: four, not five) senses being simultaneously stimulated before wakefulness begins the business of perceptual differentiation. 88.13: “pediculously so. Certified?:” particularly; satisfied 88.13: “Certified?:” a cross-examiner’s probing “Are you certain about that?” 88.13-4: “Be the lonee:” baloney: American slang for “Rubbish!” 88.15: “Szerday’s Son:” “Saturday’s son works hard for a living." 88.15: “greeneyed:” in FW, “green” in proximity to “eye” always or almost always signals glaucoma. 88.16: “like his poll:” like his Pa. Also, as McHugh notes, the phrase comes from one of Joyce's newspaper clippings. It refers to a witness's account of a murder victim's severed ("poll") head. Here, the words following account for the subject's "oogs," "ares," "nase," and "mouph" - eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. 88.17: “murty odd:” “mighty odd.” “Tim Finnegan lived in Wattling Street / A gentle Irishman mighty odd” 88.17: “murty odd oogs:” mighty odd eyes. (Joyce’s, for example) 88.17-8: “inquiline nose:” the aquiline nose has evidently been knocked to one side and is still inclined that way – again, a likely result of fisticuffs. 88.18: “twithcherous mouph:” in “Aeolus,” a twitching mouth signifies insipient dementia. Also, perhaps, treacherous. And, again: a possible result of being touched up in the ring 88.19: “tenyerdfuul:” tankard-full; also “yard:” an old measure of ale 88.20: “Iguines:” suggest “I guess” – once the definitive American expression, perhaps even more so than “OK.” 88.20: "And with:" after these words, Oxford editors recommend inserting “a stopper head, bottle shoulder, a barrel bauck and." (Terence Killeen, in his Genetic Joyce Studies 13 review of Danis Rose and John O'Hanlon's 2010 revised edition of FW, concurs: the omission, he writes, "clearly" resulted from "an eyeskip on the part of the compositor.") "Tumblerous” pretty clearly derives from “tumbler,” a drinking vessel with a round or pointed bottom, the idea being that it couldn’t be put down until emptied - before then, it would tumble over. Your annotator is pleased to note that "stopper" and "bottle" would seem to support my hypothesis that FW is a letter in a bottle. "Barrel" of course anticipates Shaun as another letter-bearing water-borne vessel, the barrel of III.1-2, who/which at 470.23 is on the verge of "tumbling." 88.24: “Chudley Magnall once more:” Charlemagne; his return was prophesied. 88.25: “deffodates and the dumb scene:” maybe obvious: deaf and dumb. (Also, date and scene: time and place.) Echoes lines 53.1-2, in turn an echo from Portrait, chapter four. Also, “dumb scene:” theatre term for a scene with no dialogue. Gist, I think, is that it’s a voiceless picture, like – again - the “Arras” of 53.2. 88.26: “waapreesing:” appraising 88.27: “three wicked Vuncouverers Forests:” (Oxford editors insert a period after “Vuncouverers,” making for a sentence beginning “Forests bent down.”) Representations/recollections of the two-girls-and-three-soldiers scene often bring into play the Dublin coat of arms, which depicts three burning castles, each with one front door/wicket. I can’t say what Vancouver is doing in here – excepting that it certainly has a lot of forests – but the overtone of the opposite of “curfew’ (cover-feu, cover-fire) goes with those burning castles. Also, since they’re his accusers, it makes sense for him to call them wicked. 88.28: “arthou:” Arthur: like Charlemagne (.24), another ancient king whose miraculous return was predicted. Also, “art thou,” as address, recalls that one of the parties in this legal process is, or was called, a ("quaker's" (85.11)) Quaker. 88.28: “Yubeti!:” as McHugh notes, you bet! - that is, yet another Americanism 88.31: “gourgling:” gurgling; compare 206.18. 88.32: “showeradown:” Philip Henry Sheridan, Union general in the American Civil War 88.33-4: “Wirrgeling and maries:” Oxford editors have “Wirrgeling and boeuffickly bucefull. And maries.” Virgil, that is Publius Vergilius Maro, still seems to be part of the picture, although his presence seems incongruous either way. 89.1: “stoker…driver:” train: a stoker shovels coal into the engine’s furnace; the engine (driver) is the engineer. 89.6: “The prince in principel should not expose his person?:” Machiavelli, The Prince: the prince should not make himself too familiar to the populace (“coram populi” (.5)). 89.8-10: “Askt to whether she minded whither he smuked? Not if he barkst into phlegms:” asked if (s)he minds if he smokes? No, as long as he hawks out his smoker’s phlegm somewhere else. 89.12: “not doubt:” no doubt 89.12: “on the forx:” compare “in the force” (“Cyclops”) – the police force 89.15: “Bejacob’s:” compare “Cyclops” interjection: “O jakers” 89.17: “dtheir gcourts:” see McHugh: confusingly transliterated Gaelic spelling. Myles Joyce (see 87.21 and note) spoke only Gaelic, did not understand the English-language indictment. 89.18: “nday in ndays:” indeed, indeed; also, see note, above. 89.19: “gart:” Gaelic G 89.19-24: “The grazing…kitcat:” gist: in answer to query about the expiration dates of grazing rights, he says he doesn’t know but can find out by consulting the receipt for his grandfather’s (“goat’s sire” (.20)) coffin. Logic: presumably 1. The lease expired with his grandfather’s death; 2. The coffin was purchased shortly after that death; and 3. The receipt for the coffin would specify the date. His mother-in-law – probably the late grandsire’s wife – being the one with the receipt, can supply the information in a hurry. (Note: entirely possible that the grandfather is actually the (goaty) father, the mother-in-law actually the mother; much of the remaining cross-examination concerns “Father ourder” (.25), our father.) 89.19: “Harlyadrope:” (he had drunk) hardly a drop 89.21: “goat’s sire:” great sire, grandfather – but see note to 89.19-24. 89.22: “recipis:” receipt 89.26: “mathers:” mothers: goes with “Father” (.25) 89.27: “Quare hircum?:” see McHugh: reverting to the law’s Latin, thus further confusing matters linguistically, the interrogator demands to know why the witness called his grandfather (or, again, father) a goat (.21). 89.28-9: “Are you not danzzling on the age of a vulcano. Siar, I am deed. And how olld of him?:” From E. Trogen, Les Mots Historiques du Pays de France, as documented by Robert-Jan Henkes and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu in Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 20: an exchange between the duc de Nemours and colonel Combes, after a battle: "'Mais vous êtes donc blessé?' demanda le prince. - 'Non Monseigneur, je suis mort!'" Also, though not dead, Vulcan was old. 89.30-1: “Finn, threehatted ladder:” the Ogham sign for F, as in Finn and Finnegan, is a vertical with three strokes projecting from the right side at right angles, thus an approximation of HCE’s signature E. Also, the pope (“pontiff’s” (.35)) is a leader who wears a three-hatted hat. 89.31-2: “That a head in thighs under a bush at the sunface would bait a serpent to a millrace through the heather:” with some temerity, I really think that – apart from the general notion that something/someone will beat something/someone else in a race - we can take this as simple nonsense, the result of trying to coordinate two incommensurable sign systems. 89.34: “a pigeegeeses:” A B C’s; compare “Calypso:” “Ahbeesesee defeegee,” etc. 89.35: “pontiff’s order:” papal bull. See .30-1 and note, 90.3 and McHugh’s note. 89.35-6-90.1: “As a gololy bit to joss? Leally and tululy:” again, stage-Chinese, accompanied by allusions to “joss” (oriental idol), Hankow, Sun-Yat-Sen, kow-towing. If “tululy” is “truly,” “gololy” should be “glory,” and a glory bit may be some kind of offering. 90.1: “son-yet-sun?:”response to 89.31: “sunface.” As McHugh notes, tones are highly significant in Chinese, moreso than in most spoken languages. The different intonations of “son” and “sun” would be noticeable and critical; hence the “yet” here. 90.2: “buxers flay of face:” (boxing) fray, in which a boxer’s face has been flayed 90.2-3: “setting odds evens at defiance:” to set something (typically, the world) at defiance is to charge ahead, regardless of opposition and likely outcome. The expression appears in "Cyclops." Here, he is setting the odds at defiance. 90.3: “Labouriter:” Labourite – member of Britain’s Labour Party 90.5-6: “changing the venders, from the king’s head to the republican’s arms:” again, pubs were often shops – venders - as well. Also, in changing venues we’re shifting politics, from royalist to republican: the resulting scenario (.10-33) will be verging on revolution. (English republicans, of course, had made their point by cutting off the king’s head.) 90.8-9: “regents raining:” the regent’s reign 90.9: “appealed:” appeared 90.10: “bettygallaghers:” Gaelic gallagur: foreign military aid 90.12: “toastingforks:” a derisive term for swords 90.13: “Angel’s:” according to Mink, once the name of a Dublin pub; see 56.26. 90.14: “between what they said and the pussykitties:” old English expression: between you and me and the cat’s whiskers – that is, entre nous 90.16: “disappainted solicitresses:” (formerly) painted women 90.17: “Saturn’s mountain fort:” in the War of the Titans, Jupiter’s HQ was Mount Olympus; Saturn’s was Mount Othys. 90.26: “Thomar’s:” Thómar: Gaelic for Thor 90.28-9: “yappanoise language, ach bad clap:” to a westerner’s ears, the percussiveness of Japanese talk can come across as yappy and sometimes noisy as well; consider, for instance, the dialogue in martial-arts movies. 90.28: “ach bad clap:” a bad chap, with the clap; note “pox” in “suppoxed” (.25) 90.26: “rudacist:” ruddiest (in McHugh) = bloodiest; in variant, “bloody awful” appears after “Ooh!” (.28). 90.29: “tertianly:” tersely 90.31-3: [hundred-letter word]: language components here are predominantly Gaelic; the witness’s (Pegger Festy’s) testimony hereafter will be assertively Irish in tone and sometimes in language. 90.34: “a new complexion:” compare .2, with its flayed face. 90.36: “punic:” puisne – a junior member of the judiciary; compare 55.12. 91.1: “Pegger Festy:” compare 26.36, 72.27: he got this name from pegging stones; at 91.11-2 he will deny having “fire”d a stone; see also 91.31-2. 91.1-2: "stucckomuck:" Joyce's notes include the expression "throw mud & some will stick." 91.3: “loudburst:” outburst 91.8-9: “the Tierney…or any other Tierney:” he would swear by any trinity you cared to mention. 91.9: “yif:” if 91.10: “yif live thurkells folloged him about sure that was no steal:” ist: he didn’t steal livestock (e.g. turkeys): they just happened to follow him wherever he went. 91.10: “deposited:” deposed. Whatever was deposed (see McHugh entry) by that nefarious Earwicker: compare 84.12-27. 91.11-2: “fire a stone:” firestone: compare 86.4-5: “stick fire,” and note; also .31: variations on FW’s stick/stone binary. Among other things, a firestone is a flintstone, used to start fires, apposite for this republican incendiary. In sporting parlance, to “fire” a missile is to throw it at great speed. See note to .1. 91.14-5: “nabour party:” again, Labour Party; compare 90.3. 91.15: “sockdologer:” given boxing strain, pertinent that this is an Americanism for the decisive blow in a boxing match. In effect, he’s confessing to assault or something close to it. 91.15-6: “had the neck to endorse with the head bowed down:” defiant or not, the posture of someone about to be executed, probably by decapitation: this is in some ways attempting to be a classic speech from the dock, of the Robert Emmet stamp. (Attempting to be: the defiance will soon leak away.) 91.16-7: “outturned noreaster:” with the collar open and turned out – again, appropriate for a (rainy) beheading 91.17: “lipreaders:” yet another modality of communication, made possible because his face, lips included, has been washed 91.17-8: “barefacedness:” as in “barefaced lie;” also, because the blackface-making “peatsmoor” of 86.9 has been washed off 91.20-1: “all those yarns yearning for that good one about:” listening through all those stories (sailor’s “yarns,” probably bogus), just waiting for him to get to the really good one 91.22-3: “an Inishman was as good as any cantonnatal:” variations on David-vs-Goliath: an Irishman/Islandman was as good as any continental; so was a man from Inishmaan (even smaller island off coast of Ireland); either could stand up to a cat-o-nine-tails; perhaps boast of Irishman Joyce holding his own as alien in the canton natal of Zurich. 91.23-33: “if…hour:” in other words: if I die tomorrow, I hope to never see any version of heaven if I was guilty of assault with stick or stone - not even of Valhalla, of the “inexousthausthible wassailhorn tot of iskybaush” (.27-8) - which seems to be his own mashup of Valhalla’s imperishable sow, of the inexhaustible horn (of drink) of the Arthurian tradition, and of Irish whiskey. All in all, an obvious instance of protesting too much. “Tot” was a term for a seaman’s daily ration of rum, in this case to be endlessly replenished. Surely “inexousthausthible” etc. is a case of imitative form, if not of onomatopoeia. 91.26: “jackabox:” witness box 91.26-7: “wield or wind…wassailhorn:” to “wind” a “horn,” as in “Lycidas,” is to play on a wind instrument. 91.23: “parish by the market steak:” probably a reminder that auto-da-fe‘s, though (as recalled in “Circe”) carried out by the civil arm, were essentially the work of the church, with its parishes. Compare “fried -at-belief-stakes” of 170.33. 91.29: “way of the hawks with his heroes:” biblical source: “the way of an eagle in the air” 91.30: “exchequered career:” as in “checquered past:” euphemism for a disreputable past life. As least connotatively, “exchequer” indicates the opposite. 91.31: “chancery hand:” chance hand 91.32: “puptised:” pupped: born. (Occurs in “Cyclops”) 91.34: “halfkneed castleknocker’s:” his knees are knocking; probably also overtone of “knock-kneed” 91.34-5: “attempting kithoguishly to…make the sign of the Roman Godhelic faix:” once again, he nervously reveals his alien status. Roman Catholics make the sign of the cross from up to down to left to right. “Kithoguishly” – leftily (right to left), as practiced in Orthodox faiths, is the wrong direction. “Faix” is an Irishism for “faith" as interjection: Given his overall performance, it’s probably pertinent that “kithogue” also means clumsy. 92.1: “broken exthro Castilian:” had broken both out of and into (through) the castle. (He was, on 91.34, a “castleknocker.”) Castilian is proverbially the most elegant of Spanish dialects. Also, as ex cathedra: a pope’s infallible declaration 92.2: “olla podrida:” as a gamy Spanish stew and, figuratively, any kind of unsavory mess, especially verbal: connotatively the opposite of (.1) “Castilian.” In context, the phrase here seems to mean something like “ad nauseam.” 92.6: “Pegger’s Windup:” given this chapter’s plethora of American idioms, “pitcher’s windup” seem highly probable here. (For non-American readers: in baseball, a pitcher will gyrate his body before fixing it in position before releasing the ball. See 91.11-2 and note.) Perhaps obvious: initials are the reverse of “Wet Pinter’s” (.7). Also, to “get the wind up” is to aggravate someone. 92.7: Wet Pinter’s:” combines “Peter the Painter” of 85.05 and “wordpainter” of 87.13; A painter is the rope used to tie a boat to a dock – hence (like, to be sure, paint and a pint) wet. Evidently the full name of “W. P.,” introduced at 86.34. See 320.18-9 and notes. 92.9: “himundher:” him and her; him under her (or, as usual in FW, vice versa) 92.10: “polarized…symphysis:” paralysis (G.P.I.) is a symptom of syphilis. 92.10: “symphysis:” synthesis 92.12: “the bar:” in legal matters: though they’re not lawyers, this is still a courtroom, and they seem to be the ones delivering the (double-edged) verdict. 92.13: “myrrmyrred:” myrrh: the good news is, one of the gifts to the infant Jesus. The bad news is, thus establishing him as the one to be sacrificed. See next three entries. Also, compare the execution scene in "Cyclops," Cissy Caffrey in "Circe" ("They're going to fight! For me!"), the "happy belongers to the fairer sex" of FW cheering on the (male) slaughter of WW I (178.21). In Joyce’s works, women are often all too inclined to approve of men killing one another off or otherwise dying in dramatically satisfying ways. 92.14: “Show’m the Posed:” show him the post: compare “Circe:” “when in sight of the whipping post.” 92.14: “the willingly pressed:” pressed to death (as a martyr, willingly); flowers – hyacinths (.16), for instance, named for another fair young man romantically killed – are sometimes pressed between the leaves of books. Also, during World War I, to happily consent to being conscripted 92.14-5: “nominating him for the swiney prize:” for the best prize-winning pig in the fair, certainly - but, also, the (female) Eleusian mysteries featured the sacrifice of a (male) piglet. Perhaps this finally helps account for the simultaneous appearance of “pedigree pig” and “hyacinth” (86.16) – both doomed to die young. 92.16: “having all his senses about him:” answers question of 88.5-7; .27 (“blindly, mutely, tastelessly, tactfully”) takes it back. 92.16: “stincking thyacinths:” Shakespeare, sonnet 94: “Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.” Hyacinths, of the lily family, produce a strong, sweet smell, popular in perfumes. 92.17-8: “bring busses to his cheeks:” 1. kissing his face; 2. ramming (with a bus) the cheeks of his rear 92.20-1: “me postheen:” in addition to “my little child” (in McHugh), O Hehir has Gaelic mo phuistín, “my little post” – forecasting Shaun as postman, a role which will become prominent in III.1-2. 92.19: “pizzicagnoling:” imbedded “agnol” – lamb – pairs with “wool” in “woolywags” (.20) 92.23: “their worships:” official term for magistrates 92.29: “leapgirl:” twenty-eight girls; Issy is number 29, corresponding to February 29, the leap day – one rationale for how she can sometimes be girlish (aged seven) and sometimes womanly (aged 29). The conceit was probably suggested by Gilbert & Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance. (Her looking-glass double and imaginary friend,, Marge, would accordingly be number 30, Lucia Joyce’s age on what I believe to be FW’s default date, March 21, 1938.) 92.22: “send treats in:” Saint Tristan. An obscure 5th century saint of Brittany, in some accounts said to have evangelized Ireland. According to the French Wikipedia, “sa signification est controversée.” In FW, anyway, it is difficult, to say the least, to distinguish him from the other Tristans/Tristrams – or, given the date, from Saint Patrick himself. Variants of name include Drystan, Dunstan, and Drosten. Celtic etymological origin may be drust, meaning noise or tumult. His feast day, which he shares with Saint Dunstan, is May 19. 92.27: “innamorate:” enamored with; inamorata (Italian for girlfriend;) but also, equal-oppositely, not-in-love 92.28: “his hisu:” his issue 93.2: “murdered all the English:” mainly in sense of English language, which he wished to repudiate and which has certainly had a workout (see note to 90.31-3), but also see note to .3-5, below. 93.2: “picked out his pockets:” in cartoons and movies, pulling out one’s empty pockets is a gesture indicating poverty. 93.3: “scotfree:” in original sense of “scot,” free of the Irish 93.3-5: “trailing his Tommeylommey’s tunic in his hurry, thereinunder proudly showing off the blink pitch to his britgits:” recalls “blanche patch” of the park encounter (83.26). Most recurrences of the phrase suggest it has to do with the face or head (the “boney part” (83.26)), but here he seems to be displaying it by removing his tunic, which would have covered the body as far as his buttocks, and at 488.29-30 we hear of someone “identifiable by the necessary white patch on his rear.” It would be in keeping for the character on the stand to exit by mooning the “britgits,” the Brit gits he despises, simultaneously impressing the Brigits, the Irish lasses, with his patriotic irreverence: at 83.24-6 the “blanche patch” personage is “Declaney,” identified by Glasheen as Patrick Delaney, one of the Phoenix Park assassins (or, in Delaney’s case, a would-be assassin). (The Illustrated London News picture of Delaney on trial shows nothing resembling a blank patch or, for that matter, a tunic.) Also: James Joyce at times wore not a “blanche patch” but a “black patch” (559.26; see also 182.33) over one eye – hence a “blink” patch. 93.5: “(to prove himself (an’t plase yous!) a rael genteel:” probably persiflage: taunting the court with a de-couthed version of “If it please the court,” then a parodically foppish, drawled-out testimony to his “real” gentility. Compare the Artful Dodger’s courtroom performance in Oliver Twist. 93.6: “bobbyguard’s:” the “bobby” guard makes clear that the court is English. 93.7: “firewaterloover:” lover of firewater – strong drink. “Loo” adds a rebarbative mix of toilet water, definitely not in the perfume sense: as McHugh notes, the next line gives us four consecutive words whose initial letters spell out “fart.” Gist: due to his heavy drinking among other things, his breath is hard to bear. 93.8: “rawdownhams tanyouhide:” raw, lowdown, swinish language; “tanyouhide” sounds like the American expression “I’ll tan your hide:” that is, give you a whipping on your bottom. Also, tanneries were famously foul-smelling. 93.10: “clap cap:" compare 84.34 and 90.28. Also, claptrap 93.10: “the accent:” his infra dig (shanty Irish) accent was one of his most obnoxious features. 93.11: “like gush gash from a burner:” a burner is the outlet from which the gas of, for instance, a gas lamp or stove is emitted; unlit or doused, it produces a noxious smell; if left uncorrected, the result can be fatal. Keeps afloat, I suggest, the possibility that the prisoner has dropped his pants and is expressing himself with his arse, here via the gas from a fart; later in the paragraph we get “Bottome” and “shat” (.18). These and other elements indicate the not-very-subliminal presence of Shem. 93.12: “briefs:” attorney’s briefs; lady’s underpants 93.14: “fenemine Parish Poser:” effeminate, affecting Parisian manners; compare 464.17, Mulligan in “Telemachus” on Stephen’s “Paris fads.” The stereotypical Englishman views French men as effeminate. 93.16: “donatrices:” Joyce’s financial supporters were predominantly women – not patrons but patronesses 93.16: “Drinkbattle’s Dingy Dwellings: “compare 176.31 and 182.30-1. Mink notes that there was a schoolhouse of that name in Glasnevin, “said to have been named by Swift.” Here merged, I suggest, with Dirty Dick’s (69.34), a famously squalid London pub 93.17: “venuson…dear:” venison…deer 93.18: “muddy goalbind:” both McHugh and Oxford editors have “goalbird.” A gaolbird - in American spelling, a jailbird – is someone often in prison. Also football/soccer goalie (see .13) in a muddy field. “Muddy” dodges “bloody,” an obscenity in the British Isles. 93.18: “chassetitties belles conclaiming:” Joyce was not the one to let these chaste belles, outfitted with chastity belts, go unbesmirched: “Penelope” shows he was familiar with “titties” as an impolite term for breasts, and these belles, titties included, are being chased (like deer (.17)) at a Hunter’s (sometimes called Huntsman’s: French chasse for hunt) Ball. Also, overtone of charity ball 93.24: “plause:” applause 93.25: “of eyebrow penciled, by lipstipple penned:” ladies have been known to smooth out their eyebrows with spittle. (Kitty Rickets does it in "Circe.") 93.28: “the beam in her eye:” Jesus: “Thou hypocrite, cast out the beam out of thine own eye.” 93.31: “the Sit of her Style:” the style of her sit, i.e. posture. “Her sit” occurs in this sense in “Circe.” 93.35: “old molly bit or that bored saunter by: given “molly” – Molly Bloom was based in part on Nora Barnacle – this sounds like being about what Joyce remembers as Nora’s bold “sauntering” when he met her. “Greene…gretnass” (.94.1 – see note) would seem to confirm. 94.1: “greene…gretnass:” according to Ellmann, Gretta Green, destination of impetuous elopers, was the pretend name that Joyce gave to Nora when they eloped; Gretta’s name in “The Dead” is an in-joke. 94.2:” slickstick picnic:” scrap picnic; slapstick 94.3: “the solid man saved by his sillied woman:” reflects textual controversy over whether Hamlet's “too, too solid flesh” should be “too, too sullied flesh.” Also, a sullied woman 94.4: “Crackajolking:” speaking of (old) jokes: one man is hit with an egg; other man comments, “That’s a yolk on you!” 94.4-5: “The elm that whimpers at the top:” from the wind in the leaves; see note to 80.20-9. 94.5: “Wind broke:” to break wind 94.6: “Reed wrote of it:” very long shot: John Reed, Ten Days that Shook the World? Probably not 94.11: “rubbed some shine off Shem:” compare action of 91.1-2. “Shine” was a pejorative U.S. term for an African-American. Also, to “rub the shine off” someone is to take them down a peg. 94.12: “Una and Ita:” You and I 94.13: “propastored:” preposterous 94.12-8: “Yet…meddlars:” for some reason, a barrage of numbers: “Una” (one), “tripulations:”(triple: three), “threne” (three), “furchte fruchte” (perhaps forty-four), “Ena” (una: one), “milo” (million), “swee is too, swee is two when swoo is free” (three is two, three is two when two is three), “ana mala” (one, perhaps million), “pair” (two), “one,” “three.” Not including (if it is in fact present) forty-four, all would fit with the usual permutations of 1132. 94.14-5: “Ena milo melmon:” Eeny Meeny Miney Mo 94.15: “frai is frau:” again, from Hamlet: “Frailty, thy name is woman.” The frou is frail. In Joyce's time, "frail" was American slang for woman. 94.16: “ana mala woe is we!:” following up on “frai is frau,” evil Anna, as the female source of what Milton calls “all our woe,” because of the Eden (supposed) apple (compare “meddlars”/medlars (.17), an apple-like fruit); as elsewhere, the author here is clearly aware that Eve’s unspecified forbidden fruit became an apple simply because of the Latin near-homonymity of malus and malum. 94.16: “A pair of sycopanties:” a pair of panties, containing (McHugh) one (Greek) syko – fig: vagina. (See previous entry: if it wasn’t an apple, it was probably a fig.) 94.16-7: “pair…one…three:” 21.3: in the British formula (American would be 3/21), March 21 – again, my candidate for FW’s main date. 94.16-7: “amygdaleine eyes:” almond eyes, as in the almond-shaped eyes of the woman in a typical Modigliani painting. As McHugh notes, “amygdala” is archaic “almond.” In Paris, Joyce could have met Modigliani through, among others, their mutual friend Arthur Power. 94.17: “obster:” lobster as gigantified earwig/Earwicker; compare 31.2-3 and note. 94.17-8: “on their slies:” expression: on the sly 94.18: “framm Sin fromm Son, acity arose:” Felix Culpa: the original sin of Eden required redemption by the Son of God. The city here would be Rome, center of (Joyce’s) Christianity, and not, coincidentally, founded by “pious” (fromm is Danish fromme and Greek fromm, both meaning, as McHugh notes, “pious”) Aeneas, Anchises’ son, whose first city, Troy, fell because of another woman’s sin. 94.27-8: “Well and druly dry:” well and duly tried: a common term in British and American legal discourse; also, a dry well 94.27: “Solans:” solons: wise judges or administrators 94.28: “Accounting to king’s evelyns:” according to king’s evidence; also, echo of “The king was in his counting house” 94.29: “kiss the bouc:” Americans may not know that witnesses in British courts are, or were, required to kiss the Bible before giving testimony. Also, in some versions of the black mass, communicants kiss the arse and/or anus of a goat. (Bouc: ME French for male goat) 94.32: “So pass the push for port sake:” from after-dinner gentleman’s tradition of passing the port around after the ladies, as P.G. Wodehouse puts it, have “hightailed it” for the parlor; here, the four judges – solons - after a trial. Compare Bloom in “Lestrygonians:” “Old legal cronies cracking a magnum. Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the bluecoat school. I sentenced him to ten years. I suppose he'd turn up his nose at that stuff I drank. Vintage wine for them, the year marked on a dusty bottle.” 94.33: “badfather:” godfather 94.34: “Howdoyoucallem:” HCE. (My underlinings) 94.34-5: “Dirty Daddy Pantaloons:” “dear dirty Dublin;” also applies to the Wet Pinter’s behavior in the trial just reviewed 94.35-6: “war of the two roses:” will be followed by “York” (95.2) and “Lankyshied” (95.18) 95.2-3: “Ballybock:” bally (Edwardian slang: a softcore version of “bloody”) bock: German for male goat. Throughout this chapter, not saying "bloody" is definitely a recurring concern. 95.4: “bluchface:” blackface 95.5: “North Mister:” the four old men here typically comprise the four provinces of Ireland. “North Mister” – Mister North – would be Ulster. Of the four, Ulster has by far the heaviest concentration of citizens of Scottish descent, which probably accounts for the tags from Robert Burns (.6-7). 95.7: “Yerra:” according to the Urban Dictionary, “Of Irish origin, coming from the Kerry/Cork region, predominantly used in order to signify one’s complete lack of interest in any given topic.” Ulster has been followed by Munster. (The usual FW pattern of succession, as here, is up (Ulster) – down (Munster) – left (Leinster) – right (Connacht) – again, the order in which Roman Catholics (not members of Orthodox churches) cross themselves. 95.8: “birds of the southside:” south of the Liffey has long been Dublin’s fashionable side. Here, they are competing to woo a (presumably rich) divorcee. 95.10: “Hold hard:” Leinster takes over, will dominate the talk until .18. 95.11: “There’s three other corners to our isle’s cork float.” Let someone else talk, Cork. Munster, home of the Blarney Stone, has a reputation for longwindedness. Also, corks float. 95.12: “telesmell:” smell from a distance (Greek tele); recognize – tell – whose smell it is. Jokily science-fiction predictions of “smellovision” or “Smell-O-Vision” date from 1915. 95.14: “32 to 11:” hour and minute clock hands at 10:28 would be almost, but not quite, in a straight line. Compare 77.14 and note. 95.14-7: “horsebags full of sesameseed…big brown cabbage:” as McHugh notes “sesameseed” = semen; cabbage = cigar. Scrotum, testicles, semen, erection. (Sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar.) In “Cyclops,” “brown son” is a penis; “puffing" it "out” (.16) would presumably mean engorging it. 95.15: “sayman’s:” Irish pronunciation of semen’s or seaman’s 95.18: “Gobugga ye:” Go bugger yourself. Dodging the word "bugger" is also (compare .2-3 and note) one of this chapter's ongoing concerns. 95.18: “Gobugga ye:” probably the first words of the sequence from Johnny of Connacht; continues to .26. 95.19: “O breezes!:” O Jesus! (about the smell on the breeze) O blazes! 95.21: “firstnighting:” out on a first date. Considering the sequence, the woman in question seems to be what used to be called "fast." Probable echo of “jus prima nocte,” a.k.a. droit de signeur. (Compare 17.21-2.) 95.21: “Sycomore Lane:” Mink has Sycamore Street in Dublin; more likely, I think, is Sycamore Drive in Galway, which intersects Rahoon Street, site of Rahoon Cemetery, where Nora’s Michael Bodkin is buried. Spelling again brings in syco” fig. 95.24: “precious:” Roberto Prezioso, Triestine admirer of Joyce who made a pass at Nora in 1912 95.24: “putting out her netherlights:” stretching out her nether limbs – legs - in a provocative way; putting out the lights in order to encourage amorous behavior 95.24-6: “I’d sooner one precious sip at your pure mountain dew than enrich my acquaintance with that big brewer’s belch:” bodily-fluids-wise, she far prefers Galway to Dublin - Dublin here as the home of the Guinness Brewery, as opposed to Galway’s local poteen. 95.25: “one precious sip at your pure mountain dew:” fellatio. “Dew” is a favorite Joyce term for semen. 95.27-8: “unguam and nunguam and lunguam:” rough echoes of Ulster, Munster, and Leinster in the usual order, and the ass shows up at 95.36-96.1, but Connacht seems to be missing. 95.29-30: “lost away in the fern:” compare the “wild ferns” (“Lestrygonians”) in which Molly and Bloom lay during their tryst on Howth. 95.31-4: “rustlings…bybyscuttlings:” sounds and movements of a love-making couple, spotted and interrupted in flagrante. (Compare next two entries.) As in II.4, the four here are becoming (intrusive) voyeurs on their own past(s), real or imagined. 95.32: “paintings:” pantings 95.32: “ukukuings:” cooings, as of billing and cooing lovers 95.34: ”pure craigs” = equal “pure kriegs:” Vico’s phrase “pure and pious wars.” 95.35-6: “riding round Nunsbelly Square:” squaring the circle 95.36: “the buds in the bush:” again, bod = Gaelic for penis; “bush” is/was slang for vagina; compare 165.18. 96.1: “The rose is white in the darik!:” expression: at night, all cats are black. Also, so much for the War of the Roses (94.35-6, 95.2, 95.18) 96.2-3: “And Sunfella’s nose has got rhinoceritis from haunting the roes in the parik!:” his nose has been sunburned – turned red – from his time spent hunting, in the sun. 96.2: “rhinoceritis:” rhinitis: a condition in which the nose is especially susceptible to congestion. Hay fever is a common symptom. 96.2: “roes:” species of (here, female) deer 96.10: “four of them:” drinking song: “One More Drink for the Four of Us” 96.10: “under lovely Father Whisperer:” “under” modifies “going on retreat” (.9). The father will oversee the occasion. 96.11: “his stuffstuff in the languish of flowers and feeling to find was she mushymushy:” rampant sexual innuendo aside, this also refers back to “rhinoceritis”/ rhinitis:” hay fever – having a stuffed-up and running (mushy) nose is often brought on by the blooming of flowers. Also, in FW, spondees are a trademark of young male lovers such as Tristram. 96.13-4: "(peep!)...(peepette!):" "pepet" is Malay for vagina. Pretty clearly pertinent here, as well as at 14.07 ("Puppette") and 147.19 ("pepette"). 96.14: "meeting waters:” making water, as illustrated in the sound effects following - see next entry. In “Lestrygonians,” Bloom remarks that, because Moore wrote “The Meeting of the Waters,” it is appropriate to have his statue positioned above a public urinal. 96.14: “(peepette!):” pipette: laboratory vessel for releasing water, drip by drip, so that it can be measured precisely. Hence the following “Trickle trickle trickle triss.” (Also – probably obvious – “pee” in “peepette”) 96.19-20: “Poor loll:” Poor old 96.20: “Lully:” Lally, the group’s enforcer 96.20: “To give and to take! And to forego the pasht!:” from marriage ceremony – to have and to hold…forsaking all others. “Pasht:” past pashes; “pash” was 20’s slang for object of affection 96.20-21: “And all will be forgotten:” all will be forgiven 96.26: “framing:” again: in America, anyway, this is what happens when the prosecution fabricates a false case against the accused. 96.27: “true truth:” again: the spondaic/Morse code signature of Tristram 96.27-9: “a dim seer’s setting of a starchart might (heaven helping it!) uncovering the nakedness of an unknown body in the fields of blue:” in all reasonably recent star charts available on Wikipedia Images, white lines connect the white star-dots in order to inscribe constellations – Virgo, for instance. Here, the “dim seer” can apparently see the dots but not the latter-day connections, thus “uncovering” Virgo’s nakedness, now un-enveloped by its white-drawn outline, and “framing up” a new, to use the time’s term of art, gestalt. Most star charts are inscribed on a field of blue; the Blessed Virgin Mary’s colors are blue and white. Compare Keats’ “When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be:” "When I behold, upon the night’s starred face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;" As with Keats, the new perception is enabled by “fortuitously” ((.27): i.e. by the “hand of chance”) incomplete familiarity with received constructs. 96.28: “setting:” sighting 96.30-2: “as the sibspeeches of all mankind have foliated (earth seizing them!) from the root of some funner’s stotter:” compare .28 and note: same thing for the sense of hearing: all language has its “root” in the fortuitous mis-hearing of someone’s (here, probably Vico’s God, speaking in thunder) stutter. 96.30: “sibspeeches:” sibling speech(es): all members of one language family 96.31: “root:” the root of the tongue, both figuratively and literally 96.31-2: “have foliated (earth seizing them!):” have fallen, like leaves (Latin folia) to earth. Possible allusion to Babel, FW’s second fall: the God of Genesis “scattered” the builders from their tower. 96.32: “special:” spatial 96.34: barely 96.35: “posterity:” given context, also a posterior 96.35: “heirs of his tailsie:” entail: condition or set of conditions in a will. Also, the hairs of the “brush” (tail) by which the fox has just barely saved himself. Compare following notes to 97.2. 97.1: “hot to run him:” that is, to run him down, with possible overtone of “outrun” 97.2: “holt:” compression of bolt-hole, in British usage (OED) “a hole or burrow by which a rabbit or other wild animal can escape" 97.2: “outratted:” ratted out: American slang: someone in his circle has informed on him to the police. Also, German: ausrotten, exterminate: exterminating the fox is after all the point here. 97.3: “Humfries Chase:” “e” at end probably qualifies this as an HCE 97.3-10: “Humfries Chaise…Boolies:” according to McHugh, all the clearly identifiable names in the sequence are in County Meath, the hunting county of choice for residences of adjoining Dublin. 97.6: “misbadgered:” mistaken; “badgered” means harassed 97.7: “bayers:” baying hounds 97.11: “good turn:” saying: one good turn deserves another. The general sense of the ensuing lines is that someone has saved him, either doing a good turn or in return for one. Ireland’s history of mixed loyalties is part of the story: hounds and foxes are after all closely related, as attested by “Circe”’s “dogfox.” 97.12: “pointing:” see previous entry. A pointer is a hunting dog. This may be a case of defensive mimicry. 97.14-5: “a deaf fuchser’s volponism hid him close in covert:” see previous two entries: “Fuchser:” foxer – a (rare) alternative term for a fox terrier, bred to tunnel into the fox’s covert and retrieve it for the kill. Here, nature overcomes nurture: its ancestral strain of “volponism” has gotten the better of it: instead of persecuting its assigned prey, it conspires to save it. (Although, as usual, with “hid” read as “had,” the exact opposite reading would come to the fore.) Perhaps being deaf insulates it from the urgings of hound and horn. Certainly pertinent that during the Kitty O’Shea affair, Parnell sometimes went by the assumed name of “Mister Fox;” as Mink notes, the “hesitants…hesitency…hasitense” of .25-6 brings in Parnell’s persecutor, Richard Pigott, who was born in Ratoath, the hunt’s starting point. (“Mullinahob” (.3), as McHugh notes, is a “house near Ratoath.”) Other detectable fugitives include the future Charles II - that is, Charles Stuart, to whom Charles Stuart Parnell sometimes implicitly compared himself - and George Fox. 97.15: “rumer, reticule:” rumor, ridicule 97.16: “Allbrewham have is mead:” Abraham; General George Gordon Meade was head of the Army of the Potomac during much of Abraham Lincoln’s regime. Also, mead is brewed. 97.18-21: “Preservative perseverance in the reeducation of his intestines was the rebuttal by whilk he sort of git the big bulge on the whole bunch of spasoakers, dieting against glues and gravies:” Artemis Ward-like American slang of the 19th century. Gist: he got the best of slimming-down dieters making fun of his girth by joking that he was there to tend to his innards, not reduce them. (After all, at 79.11-3 he had survived by living off his stores of fat.) HCE’s obesity is a constant throughout FW. 97.20-1: “spasoakers, dieting against glues and gravies:” the leisurely rich, soaking, and dieting, in the waters of spas 97.20-1: “glues and gravies:” blue and gray, the uniform colors of Union and Confederate soldiers in the American Civil War 97.21: “prestreet protown:” a settlement in its early stage, before streets are laid out. Possibly Bath, England’s preeminent spa, an ancient settlement from before Roman times; see .28 and note. 97.24: “unhume:” inhume: to bury – but, equal-oppositely, also exhume. Also, un-home 97.28: “Assembly:” perhaps Bath’s famous Assembly Rooms 97.30: “eruct:” vomit. “Libber:” liver. “Gush” from his “visuals:” again, a symptom of glaucoma 97.30: “visuals,” besides eyes, vitals 97.31: “He had laid violent hands on himself:” committed suicide; at 100.10 this will be remembered as “suicidal murder.” Versions of the expression occur repeatedly in the prankquean episode of I.1. Masturbation may also be implied. 97.34-5: “goatservant…jenny:” variants of Sackerson and Kate 97.34-98.1: “his goatservant…weibes:” more equal-opposite: the sons paraded in the forum may be heirs being honored or captive slaves being displayed; the daughter, a Spanish princess, is being both hailed and hooted; in both cases there are hints of human sacrifice. 97.35: “infanted:” Infanta 98.1-2: “Big went the bang:” presumably from a hunter’s gun, whose noise (“noase” (.2)) makes him (temporarily) blind, stone deaf, and crazy (.3), and drives him from cover (.4-5). 98.2: “wildewide:” see 97.35 and note. Almost certainly not a coincidence that Wilde wrote “The Birthday of the Infanta,” or that the Infanta of the story is attending an auto-da-fe. 98.4: “Sparks flew:” i.e. electrical telegraph signals 98.6: “stowed away:” as stowaway 98.7: “dutch bottom:” seagoing term for a Dutch sailing ship – proverbially sturdy 98.11: “aslike:” as slick 98.11-4: “he had bepiastered the buikdanseuses from the opulence of his omnibox while as arab at the streetdoor he bepestered the bumbashaws for the alms of a para’s pence:” as an oriental potentate, he had scattered coins to underlings. A familiar orientalist trope; Disney’s film Aladdin gives a fairly recent example. As a street arab, he had begged for alms: that is, he has been desperately poor as well as fabulously rich. The general scene here recalls 32.18-33.13. As McHugh notes, “buikdanseuses” and “bumbashaws” bring in belly-dancers and potentates, respectively. Also “bumbashaws” recalls the “nickel dime bumshow” – cheap striptease, specializing in baring of buttocks - of “Circe:” one man’s danseuse is another man’s, as we might say today, pole dancer. 98.14: “para’s:” as of an 1864 tourist guide to Turkey, one piastre equaled forty paras. 98.14: “Peacefully general:” probably one place where most writers would have inserted a comma between these two words 98.15: “till” for “to” may suggest possibility of imminent reincarnation. 99.4ff will have him returning by some kind of cyclical route. See 98.17-8 and note. 98.17: “recalled:” in sense of manufacturer’s asking customers to return all cases of a faulty product. (OED’s first citation of the word in this sense is 1948, but I think this shows that it must have been in circulation before then.) 98.17-8: “Chirpings crossed:” carrier pigeons, with messages. Also, perhaps this is pertinent: “The ba…was seen as a human-headed bird hovering over the deceased or exiting the tomb…and was the part of the soul that would travel between the worlds of the living and the dead.” (Quoted from myweb.usf.edu.) See “Ba’s berial” (415.31); also the half-man half-human “ba” bat of “Nausicaa.” 98.18-9: “An infamous private ailment (vulgovarioveneral) had claimed endright, closed his vicious circle:” had closed one eye. At one point Joyce – one-eyed himself, for a spell - wondered whether his eye ailments might have been due to inherited syphilis. 98.22-3: “rodmen’s:” given context: fishermen (with rods) 98.23: “firstaiding:” first aid 98.24: “feel:” as confirmed by Oxford editors, "feet" 98.25-6: “Mr Whitlock gave him a piece of wood:” a benign revisit to the park encounter, again with the mysterious object. Oxford editors insert “his” between “of” and “wood.” 98.29-31: “baton…hod…punsil shapner…cup and ball:” compare 81.31 and note. If one envisions the pencil sharpener with a pencil in it, the object in question continues to be a rod or stick of some kind, though, this time around, apparently minus the asymmetrical twist or extension at the end. (The cup in a cup-and-ball toy is attached to a handle.) 98.32: “e’er a wiege ne’er a waage is still immer and immor awagering over it:” gossiper’s (ear-wagger’s) ears are still wagging over the news 98.32-3: “immer and immor:” ever and ever 98.33-4: “cradle with a care in it or a casket with a kick behind:” French couffin means bassinet, a portable cradle; a casket is a coffin. 98.34: “with a kick behind:” compare the death-dealing kicking-out of 49.25-6. Bloom, in “Hades,” on the buried dead: “Got the shove, all of them.” 98.34: “Toties testies quoties questies:” see McHugh: a witness for every complaint; as often as necessary 99.1-2: “We were lowquacks did we not tacit turn:” with “quacks” as a general term for frauds, a Wordsworthian admonition: anyone who doesn’t turn in awe to silently contemplate these manifestations (“golddawn glory,” glowworm gleam” (.1)) of nature’s majesty (dawn, dusk) is a miserable cheapjack, so there. “Turn” (.2) may anticipate the heliotrope (tournesol) of II.1, turning with the sun, from dawn to dusk. 99.4: “Estout pourporteral!:” It’s raining everywhere! Perhaps an echo of Verlaine’s “Il pleure dans mon coeur / Comme il pleut dans la ville," a Joyce favorite (compare next entry); certainly a re-sounding of the family name, Porter 99.4: “Cracklings cricked:” aside from the electricity of (“Morse” (.6)) telegraphy, an onomatopoetic rendering of rain on the roof. (Note: McHugh, but not Oxford editors, recommend moving “Morse nuisance noised” from .6 to .7, between “anywhere” and “when.”) 99.4-7: “A human pest cycling (pist!) and recycling (past!) about the sledgy streets, here he was (pust!) again!:” illustrates “vicious [bi]cycle” (98.19). “Pust!” – Danish for (McHugh) “to blow, puff,” presumably because after all that cycling he is winded. 99.7-10: "a disguised ex-nun, of huge standbuild and masculine manners in her fairly fat forties, Carpulenta Gygasta:" allusion to Agdistis, hermaphroditic/transexual Phrygian goddess. She was tricked into castrating herself. 99.7: “Oh baby!” – another Americanism of the period. Also, if he’s reincarnationally reappearing, from coffin to couffin, he’s a baby. 99.10: “homnibus:” loosely translated, all men. Gist: as an ex-nun, she’s starved for sex and ready to take on all (male) comers. 99.10: “Aerials buzzed:” in WW I military slang, a buzzer was a telegraph operator. 99.14-5: “fourpenny friars:” Michael J. P. Robson, The Franciscans in the Mediaeval Custody of York: “It was customary for the kings on their journeys to give pittances to the friars of the places through which they passed; towards the end of the thirteenth century the pittances became fixed at four pennies for each friar.” 99.18: “cursives:” curses 99.20: “Mumpty…Rumpty!:” Humpty Dumpty 99.17, 21: “Whitweekend…pentecostal:” Whitsunday commemorates the Pentecost. 99.21: “pentecostal:” as lower-case adjective, “pentecostal” means many-tongued 99.28: “raxacraxian:” racked on the cross 99.29-30: “Verdor the rampart combatants had left him lion with his dexter handcoup wresterected in a pureede paumee bloody proper:” “Verdor” = verdure = green, here counterpointing red (“bloody”) – a common FW pairing, at least sometimes because, 180 degrees apart on the color wheel, one is the afterimage of the other. Also, Verdun had been a famously bloody battle. “Bloody proper” mimics the language of the victors: we laid him out bloody good and proper. 99.30: “dexter…bloody proper:” Ulster’s red right hand 99.31: “thick and thin:” expression: through thick and thin 99.33-4: “D. Blancy’s trilingual triweekly, Scatterbrains’ Aftening Posht:” 1. Brewer: “Blayney’s Bloodhounds. The old 89th Foot; so called because of their unerring certainty…in hunting down the Irish rebels in 1798, when the corps was commanded by Lord Blayney.” (This is all part of the ongoing fox hunt for the fugitive HCE, to make sure he is “quite beetly dead” (.36-100.1).) 2. Equal-oppositely, Patrick Delaney (see note to 93.3-5) – out to scatter the brains of Englishmen. 3. Joyce, in a July 29, 1935 letter to Harriet Monroe, about Lucia: “She said she was sending me a letter she had from you, but of course, scatterbrain forgot to put it in.” 99.36: “quasicontribusodalitarian’s:” contributor: newspaper/magazine talk for someone who has had a letter published; occurs in “Aeolus” 100.1: “whether by land whither by water:” “One if by land, two if by sea:” lantern signals to Paul Revere at beginning of the American Revolution 100.1: “Transocean:” presumably the ocean is the Atlantic, with Marconi’s wireless messages – a frequent FW theme – crossing it to or from North America. Going west, the first Marconi signals were from Ireland. 100.2: “The latter:” refers back to (“whether by land whither by water” (.1)) - the latter of the two, water, which is indeed how the letter will arrive. 100.4: “Bartholoman’s Deep:” Bartholin glands: glands in vagina secreting mucus from sexual arousal. (If he is going to be reincarnated, it will be by this route.) 100.5-8: “Achdung!...Bullavogue:” the wireless messages being transmitted, here to foreign newspapers, in percussive blurts echoing the beep-beep-beep of the radio signals. A common sequence in 1930’s movies and newsreels; see, for instance, Citizen Kane, including the “RKO Radio” opening. 100.5: "Smucky:" compare “smukklers” (326.35-327.1). Variant of Portrait’s “smugging” – childish sex-play – with probable overtone of smutty 100.6: “Pigeschoolies:” compare the French prostitute remembered in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “Nous ferons de petite cochonneries.” 100.7-8: Bannalanna Bangs Ballyhooly Out Of Her Buddaree of a Bullavogue:” in this version of the letter, ALP – Anna/Anne – is lambasting her husband; at other times (for instance pages 101-103), she’s defending him against the accusations of others. (A contradiction, perhaps, but, after all, one commonly found in marriages, families, communities, etc.) 100.9-23: “But…panes:” selection of new pope according to doctrine of apostolic succession – as soon or almost as soon as one pope dies, the spirit of Peter takes up residence in his successor – not all that unlike some versions of reincarnation. 100.13-4: “Parteen-a-lax Limestone. Road and:” Oxford editors have “Parteen-a-lax, Limestone road and.” (Certainly makes more sense that way, but the .11-23 paragraph still seems to lack a grammatical subject.) 100.14: “fir:” like 18th century spelling of “sir.” 100.16: “seventh gable:” as McHugh notes, an allusion to The House of the Seven Gables: yet another example of this chapter’s exceptionally dense concentration of American material 100.17: “then thirsty p.m.:” Oxford editors replace “then” with “ten.” Reminds us that HCE is/was a publican: 10:30, a half hour before closing time, would be a thirsty time in a pub. 100.20:” the wasting wyvern:” very long shot: western women? Or woman? (Bonheim has German Weibern.) Nora was from the west of Ireland. 100.20: “the tawny of his mane:” compare, for instance, “You’re the cream in my coffee.” She’s the one who puts the healthy tawniness in her mate’s lion coat, including the mane. 100.21: “lolllike:” British “lolly” – lollipop 100.23: “fineglass:” Fionn-ghlais: Gaelic for clear stream. Counterpart of “leadlight” (.23) – exceptionally transparent; exceptionally opaque 100.25-6: “Ivor the Boneless:” as we know from an anecdote about Winston Churchill, P.T. Barnum’s circus sideshow featured a “Boneless Wonder.” “Ivor” as ivory, a kind of bone, sets up a case of coinciding contraries. 100.27-8: “a venter hearing his own bauchspeech in backwords:” that is, simultaneously ventriloquist (see McHugh) and ventriloquist’s dummy. 100.29: “worldroom beyond the roomwhorld:” the universe beyond planet Earth; compare 272.4-5: “whorled without aimed.” (This “world” - “whirled” pairing dates back at least as far as Sir John Davies’ Orchestra.) 100.30: “dode canal sammenlivers:” not sure why Dutch starts cropping up here, but many Netherlanders live together near canals. 100.32-5: “(the gravitational pull perceived by certain fixed residents and the capture of uncertain comets chancedrifting through our system suggesting an authenticitatem of aliquitudinis):” If McHugh is right to read “onestone” (.26) as Einstein (and “Ulma” (.36) certainly seems to confirm), this would be an uncanny rendering of the black holes predicted by the theory of relativity. Since .24, each successive attempt to approximate HCE’s nature has questioned whether, by normal standards, he may be said to exist at all; a black hole is, equally-oppositely, so potently present that it becomes absent to normal detection. We know where it is and what it is because we can’t see it - the ultimate coincidence of contraries, and not one Joyce made up. 100.32: “certain fixed residents:” given astronomical context, “fixed stars” 100.36: “Hush ye fronds of Ulma!:” compare 80.27 (“ward of the wind”) and note. On my last visit to the Mullingar Inn, the largest tree in the back yard was an elm, not an oak. 101.1: “Was she fast:?:” applied to a woman at the time, “fast” meant promiscuous. See .3 and note, .4 and note. 101.3-4: “she looked alottylike like ussies:” she looked a lot like us 101.3: “alottylike:” see 241.33 and note; Lottie Collins was definitely considered “fast.” Combining with “ladylike,” another coinciding of contraries 101.4: “ussies:” “hussies,” with dropped h – originally, a fast woman 101.6: “Now listed to one aneither and liss them down:” Oxford editors replace “listed” with “listen.” Now listen to one another and list them (the facts and/or reports under consideration) down 101.7-8: “Wimwim wimwim!:” Women! Women! (What the war was fought for.) Compare Stephen’s “Proteus” memory of himself, “on the Howth tram,” crying “Naked women! Naked women!” 101.9: “ounckel:” as McHugh notes, Dutch for uncle, hence Dutch uncle: a senior man who gives firm but benevolent advice 101.15-6: “thentimes:” ten times 101.16: “sevenscore moons:” again, in the American vein: Hollywood-Indian talk for 140 months – depending on how calculated, somewhere between ten years, six months and eleven years, seven months; goes with anthropological strain: see, for instance, .12-3 and note. 101.10-22: “Who…herselves:” the sentence that links the park incident of Book I to the Buckley-Russian General incident of II.3 101.12-3: “Homo Capite Erectus, what price Peabody’s money:” connection may be that George Peabody’s money established Harvard’s Peabody Museum of Ethnology and Archaeology. (Again, this chapter is loaded with American material.) 101.16: “schoolfilly:” female schoolfellow 101.16-18: “schoolfilly...colleen bawn…warwife…widowpeace:” four stages of womanhood, by order of age. The warring wife has finally found peace by becoming a widow. 101.17-8: “redflammelwaving:” as female clothing, red flannel connoted dowdiness. 101.19: “yayas:” yes-yes, answered at .21 by Russian “da! da!”- yes yes 101.20: “no blooding paper:” no bloody newspaper 101.23: “smileyseller:” smiler: an unctuous hypocrite (the word “smiler” occurs in this sense in Portrait, chapter five), here, selling out his country 101.24-25: “stinkingplaster zeal:” sealed with a sticking plaster – adheres like a stamp; is much bigger 101.26: “pumproom:” by far, the most famous Pump Room was in Bath; see 97.21, 97.28, and notes. 101.27-8: “Szpaszpas Szpissmas:” according to Ward Swinson, Polish for “writings” and “woman” – together, ALP’s letter 101.29: “owenglass:” glas: Gaelic for rivulet; O Hehir reads this and “anngreen” (.36) as variants of one another. 101.29-30: “upper reaches of her mouthless face:” see previous entry: rivers begin, in their upper reaches, with rivulets. Also, is she wearing a yashmak? At 537.23-4, the “mouthless” river is the Niger. 101.30: “impermanent waves:” according to one’s age (and/or gender), this may or may not be obvious: a permanent wave is a beauty-parlor hairdo supposed to keep its shape, here contrasted with the “impermanent” waves of the ocean. 101.30-1: “better half:” expression, usually in sense that a husband’s better half is his wife. 101.33: “murrmurr:” French “mer,” “mère;” also, compare 254.19-20. 102.1: “shuttered:” sheltered, perhaps in part by shutting the windows (“widowt” (.2)) of his room 102.2: “gave him keen:” keened for her dead husband 102.5: “okeamic:” compare “akasic records” of “Aeolus,” here combined with “oceanic:” theosophy’s “Akashik records” of everything about everyone’s past lives; she is searching for “some such time” (.5) from his/their past. 102.5-7: “some such time that she shall have been after hiding the crumbends of his enormousness in the areyou lookingfor Pearlfar sea (ur, uri, uria!):” the microscopic spermatozoa from his enormous erection, implanted in her vagina like pearl-generating grits (making him – “Pearlfar” (.7) a father of pearl), with - Joyce is not for sissies - a certain amount of urinous coating involved in the transaction. The sperm, compared to their prodigious origin, are like crumbs from a loaf. 102.10: “culunder buzzle:” given that this item occurs in an account of ALP’s outfit: with some imagination, a Victorian bustle resembles a large colander: both perforated open-ended hemispheres. Note that cul – French for arse – is, logically enough, situated under this one. 102.10-11: “her little bolero boa:” given context and positioning, this is probably the clitoris, the “rude little hiding rod” of 307.1. Little boa = small snake - what Issy, disparaging her partner’s counterpart, calls a “snakelet” (145.11). 102.12: “specks on her eyeux:” as McHugh says, spectacles on her eyes; compare 208.9-10, 626.34. Also, Bonheim notes that “specks” and “eyeux” (as in German eier) translate into bacon and eggs. Perhaps also the “floaters” that most people sometimes experience in their field of vision 102.12: “spudds on horeilles:” compare 208.11-2: “potatorings boucled the loose laubes of her laudsnarers.” Potato rings are dinner-table rings, the size of what would be large hoop earrings, for holding baked potatoes upright; “laubes” are lobes and “laudsnarers” ears for capturing loud sounds, especially when they’re expressions of praise of oneself. 102.13: “a vaunt her straddle:” astride her saddle; “straddle” suggests that she is not riding side-saddle – which, for a woman, would fit with the self-assertive sense of “vaunt.” 102.15: “Steploajazzyma Sunday:” to my ears, sounds like the popular circle dance song, “Skip to my lou, my darling” – though to be sure there’s nothing jazzy about it. 102.17: “slander’s:” see 270.15, 289.19. 102.18-9: “Notre Dame de la Ville:” given preceding Eve allusions, “de la Ville” echoes “Devil.” 102.25: “spenth:” “spent” in Joyce’s time meant “came,” in the sexual sense, with monetary sense often close to the surface. Edward VII is reported to have once remarked to Lilly Langtry, “With what I’ve spent on you, I could buy a battleship,” to which she replied, “With what you’ve spent in me, you could float one.” 102.28: “Tifftiff today, kissykissy tonay and agelong pine tomauranna:” Oxford editors replace “togay” with “today.” Still, “today” counterpointing (“tomauranna”) tomorrow, seems latently present, as does “tonight” in “tonay.” Broadly, a marital tiff, followed by a kiss-kiss reconciliation, followed by a prolonged spell of regret about the whole deal. Compare “Marry in haste, repent at leisure.” 102.31: “Sold him her lease of ninenineninetee:” see note to 86.15-6. 102.35: “C. O. D.”:” cod. As in “Bloom is a cod” in “Circe:” a fool 103.3: “flux:” dysentery or hemorrhage. Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.” 103.10: “hearts in her trees:” echoes: hearts on our sleeve 104.4: “mamafesta:” the best-known of classical Mother Festivals were the Hilaria, described by Wikipedia as “ancient Roman religious festivals celebrated on the March equinox - the 21st - to honor Cybele.”
104.4: “memorialising:” to “memorialise” someone in authority is to address them with a petition or remonstrance. Also, of course, to commemorate 104.5-6: “The Augusta Angustissimost for Old Seabeastius’ Salvation:” by order of Augustus’ will – see McHugh on “Seabeastius’” - Livia became “Augusta” after his death. (Later, after her own death, she was proclaimed a goddess.) Also, Joyce’s middle name was Augusta, a clerical error for Augustus. 104.6: “Old Seabeastius’:” Revelations’ beast from the sea 104.8: “Knickel down:” Possible overtones: 1. “’Knuckle down’ is a very good feat; it consists of placing the toes against a line chalked on the floor, kneeling down, and getting up again without using the hands or moving the feet from the line.” (Henry Chadwick, The Sports and Pastimes of American Boys, 1884, p. 22). 2. To “knuckle down” - also "buckle down" - means to get down to serious business. 3. To “knuckle under” means to surrender, often abjectly. 104.8: “Duddy Gunne:” fired from gun or cannon, a dud is a defective shot or shell. Possible overtone or associative link: toy guns are “pop” guns, and Joyce’s notebook term for the male principal as father was “Pop.” 104.9: “My Golden One and My Selver Wedding:” Golden (50th) and Silver (25th) wedding anniversaries 104.10-4: “Amoury Treestam and Icy Siseule, Saith a Sawyer til a Strame, Ik dik dopedope et tu mihimihi, Buy Birthplate for a Bite, Which of your Hesterdays Mean ye to Morra? Hoebegunne the Hebrewer Hit Waterman the Brayned, Arcs in His Ceiling Flee Chinx on the Flur:” these seven items correspond, in order, to the seven clauses of 3.4-14. 104.10: “Armoury Treestam and Icy Siseule:” a running motif in FW: the two crossed t’s in “Tristram” correspond to two dashes (– –), two t’s in Morse code; the “i” in “Siseule” answers with the double-dot sign for “i.” Elsewhere in FW the exchange recurs as spondee and pyrrhic. Next entry (see note) is in keeping. 104.10-1: “Saith a Sawyer til a Strame, Ik dik dopedope et tu mihimihi:” see previous note. This may be taken as one unit: by way of prosodic scansion, the “Sawyer” says, in telegraphese: “•• - - •– –• –•,” that is, I M A N N: “Im Ann.” (“Til a Strame” is admittedly a pretty rough overtone of “telegram,” but compare “tillycramp” (556.36-557.1).) To go with the French “et tu,” I voice this quantitatively. The “Sawyer” here is primarily neither Tom Sawyer nor a worker with a saw, but part or all of a tree floating downstream. 104.12: “Hoebegunne the Hebrewer:” Noah, first as tiller of the soil (tradition has him as inventor of the hoe, among other farm implements); second, as the first brewer. Probably woebegone because in the latter capacity he’s had too much to drink 104.13: “Waterman the Brayned:” contrasting with “Hebrewer” (.12), a water man is a teetotaler. Also, it would be natural for anyone who had been through the flood to figuratively have water on the brain – that is, on his mind. 104.13-4: “Arcs in His Ceiling Flee Chinx on the Flur:” Joyce to Harriet Shaw Weaver, on these nine words: “L’Arcs in his heaven All’s Right with the World [note discrepancies from final FW version, just quoted] 1) God’s in his heaven All’s Right with the World 2) The Rainbow is in the sky (arc-en-ciel) the Chinese (Chinks) live tranquilly on the Chinese meadowplane (China alone almost of the old continent[s] has no record of a Deluge. Flur in this sense is German. It suggests also Flut (flood) and Fluss (river) and could even be used poetically for the expanse of a waterflood. Flee = free) 3) The ceiling of his ( ) house is in ruins for you can see the birds flying and the floor is full of cracks which you had better avoid [Joyce's parentheses enclose HCE's siglum, E, with the prongs pointed downward.] 4) There is merriment above (larks) why should there not be high jinks below stairs? 5) The electric lamps of the gin palace are lit and the boss Roderick Rex is standing free drinks to all on the "flure of the house" 6) He is a bit gone in the upper storey, poor jink. Let him lie as he is (Shem, Ham and Japhet) 7) The birds (dove and ravens (cf the jinnies is a cooin her and the jinnis is a ravin her hair he saved escape from his waterhouse and leave the zooless patriark alone.” 104.13: “flee:” stage-Chinese (“Chinks”) pronunciation of “free” 104.14: “Rebus de Hibernicis:” Richard Stanihurst’s 1584 De Rebus in Hibernia. Uses the term “Hibernici” for native Irish, as opposed to Anglo-Hibernians. Also, probably an Irish variation on “Matter of Britain” 104.14: “The Crazier Letters:” tradition that Swift, the Drapier, became insane in his last years 104.15: “Peter People Picked a Plot to Pitch his Poppolin:” whether chosen or not, Peter’s plot, Rome, is still where the pope – along with the pope’s and Peter’s people, Christians - is in. 104.16-7: “hosebound:” husband: Anglo-Saxon from hus, house, and Old Norse bondi, freeholder or yeoman, in turn from “bua,” to dwell 104.18: “Porthergill:” Porter 104.19-20: “for Ark see Zoo:” Noah’s ark, with all the animals aboard, from A to Z 104.21: “Cammmels:” the three lower-case “m”s, by virtue of their double humps, qualify as camels, not dromedaries. 104.22: "Cock in the Pot for Father:” Henry IV’s “a chicken in every pot,” probably with sexual innuendo: compare “Plumtree’s Potted Meat” in Ulysses. 104.24: “Geese;”: along with 105.32 (“Columbkisses;”) one of only two semi-colons in the sequence. Transcription error? 105.4: “Wand Ceteroom:” one sitting-room 105.5: “Boxer Coxer Rising in the House with the Golden Stairs:” in the farce Box and Cox, a landlady doubles her money by renting the same room to two men on different work schedules; they frequently meet on the stairs without suspecting the arrangement. Perhaps “Golden” because of landlady’s windfall (as, for instance, dishonest butchers have been said to have “golden thumbs”); perhaps “Rising” because the vertical supports of stairsteps are called “risers.” 105.6: “The Following Fork:” see 626.12-3. HCE’s signature E resembles the prongs of a fork. 105.8-9: “Marlborry Train:” until 1961, there was a “Marlborough train” from London to Marlborough. 105.12: “My Juckey:” ducky: slangy term of affection, sometimes sarcastic 105.14: “Victrolia:” Victrola: brand name of gramophone 105.15: “Da’s a Daisy so Guimea your Handsel too:” flower girl gives daisy to first (willing or not) customer of the day and requests a “handsel,” preferably a guinea, in return; compare Stephen’s encounter with the flower girl in Portrait, chapter five. “Guimea:” slang “Gimme,” Give me. A guinea would be a ridiculously high price for a flower. 105.15-6: “What Barbaras done to a Barrel Organ Before the Rank, Tank, and Bonnbtail:” as McHugh notes, St. Barbara is “patron of armourers and gunners.” The “barrel-organ gun” was a late 19th-century artillery piece with ten barrels; St. Barbara’s minions had weaponized a musical instrument. “Rank” and “tank” in military sense; two “n”s in “Bonnbtail” as one “m.” 105.17: “What Jumbo made to Jalice and what Anisette to Him:” apparently what Jumbo said to Alice made someone – Anna? – jealous. “Cyclops:” "Jumbo, the elephant loves Alice, the elephant.” Jumbo and Alice, elephants in P.T. Barnum’s circus, were promoted as a married couple. Possibly the (''Anisette'') war's Armistice was the providential occasion 105.18: “Culpreints:” aside from culprits, prints left by (cul) buttocks 105.19: “Older northe Rogues:” Old North Road, from London to Cambridge. “Rogues” may be highwaymen, of which the Old North Road apparently had its share. 105.19-20: “He calls me his Dual of Ayessha:” Ayesha was Mohammed’s second wife - hence "Dual") number two. See 104.10 and note: Dual of eyes/i’s would signal Issy (ii) – here, perhaps, as the substitute eyes of the purblind or blind or one-eyed Joyce. 105.20: “Suppotes a Ventriliquorst Merries a Corpse:” reads like a poser in legal or theological disputation: if a ventriloquist declares himself married to a corpse, does the fact that he can apparently make her talk - or ("Merries") laugh, make it a true marriage? 105.21: “Lapps for Finns:” Lapland is part of Finland. 105.21: ”Funnycoon’s:” funny coon: a character in a blackface minstrel show. Possible source: Amos ‘n Andy, hugely popular American radio comedy which, I believe, shows up at 504.16, 5-4.20-1 105.25-6: “The Tortor of Tory Island Traits Galasia like his Milchcow:” a Tartar (see McHugh) is a tantrum-throwing tyrant, here treating his wife (Galatea) like a farm animal; equal-oppositely, St. Patrick was Milchu’s slave. “Galasia” = galaxia, Latin for Milky Way: from there to milk-cow is quite a comedown. Tory Island (again: McHugh), off the coast of Donegal, was according to Mink a “haunt of pirates,” especially the one-eyed “Balor of the Baleful Eye” – the Polyphemus to this entry’s (“Galasia”) Galatea. 105.27-8: “Smocks for Their Graces and Me Aunt for Them Clodshoppers:” smacks (kisses) for the graceful ones and (the back of) my hand for the clumsy ones 105.28: “Clodshoppers:” clodhopper: bumpkin 105.28-9: “How to Pull a Good Horuscoup even when Oldsire is Dead to the World:” Joyce once wrote his father asking when exactly he had been born (it was 6:30 a.m.); why, I wonder, if not to have his horoscope cast? Astrologers place great stock in the moment of birth. And – next question - how to go about getting the information if the father, the old sire, is dead, or unconscious? Also, to answer the “-coup” question: Isis managed Horus’s ascendancy by constructing a golden phallus to replace the one missing from the remains of Osiris. “Pull,” as in “pull off” (Molly Bloom, in “Penelope:” “I pulled him off into my handkerchief”) takes this story and doubles down: how do you pull off an (old) man when he’s dead or dead drunk? 105.31: “Two:” counterpointing “Thee” (.30), French tu 105.32: “My Curly Lips:” as with Beaufoy’s “upcurled lip” in “Circe,” a “curled lip” usually indicates hostility. 105.32: “Columbkisses:” lovebirds. Also, since lips come in twos, this goes with (.31) “Three Senses:” another 3-2. 105.33-4: “Them Lads made a Trion of Battlewatschers and They Totties a Doeit of Deers:” yet another 3-2, signature of the twins (they often come with a shadowy third party), this time recalling the three soldiers and two girls in the park episode. “Doe” in “Doeit” as female deer 105.34: “My Lord’s Bed:” overtone of “Lord’s bidding” – Lord as either god or husband 105.34: “One Whore Went Through It:” “went through it:” as a whore, she has had a trying experience in that bed. (Equal-opposite possibility: the loss of virginity on the wedding night was a horrible experience. Compare 106.5-6 and note.) 106.2: “Stitch:” as in sudden pain (in the back/buttocks) 106.2-3: “Stitch in his Backside:” OED: the backside is the underside of an article of clothing (where the stitching shows). Perhaps pertinent that in some illustrations, the rib that will become Eve comes out of Adam’s side or back. 106.4: “Lifting Shops:” shoplifting 106.4-5: “Norsker Torsker Find the Poddle:” a narwhal, distinguished by its long tusk-like horn. A group of whales is called a pod. 106.5-6: “He Perssed Me Here with the Ardour of a Tonnoburkes:” He (im)pressed me here (and impressed my heart) like a ton of bricks. Both Patrick Pearse and Edmund Burke were notably eloquent Irish orators. The expression “To [hit, pile into, slam, etc.] someone like a ton of bricks” dates back well before FW. Doubtless there is a sexual insinuation as well (arduous piercing, as by – see previous entry – the narwhal’s tusk). Military medals (the “order of” x) are often pinned – pierced – on uniforms; one such medal was struck for the German victory at the 1914 Battle of Tannenberg. “Tonno-:” as at 3.15-6: one of a number of similar-sounding words, in different languages, for thunder. 106.7: “Up from the Pit of my Stomach I Swish you the White of the Mourning:” again, sexual; compare 338.30-1 on an early-morning waking erection: “the morn hath razed out limpalove.” Genitalia are situated at the pit – bottom - of the stomach; Robert Burns’ “The Gathering of the Clans” is but the best-known bawdy poem to include “the swishing of the pricks.” Semen is white “Mourning:” that sex and death go together is a recurring Joycean theme. 106.7: “Swish:” wish 106.8: “Medoleys:” medleys 106.8: “Tommany Moohr:” too many more 106.10: “the Link of Natures:” the missing link – probably as part of the “Entertrainer”’s (.9) sideshow. 106.12: “Stitchioner’s Hall:” Stationer’s Hall: Ireland’s copyright office 106.12: “Siegfield Follies and or a Gentlehomme’s Faut Pas:” Siegfried, probably Wagner’s, combined with Ziegfield - high art mixed with popular culture; that this was a folly and a wrong (“Faut,” not just faux) step (“Pas” as step, not not) may be because Wagner was an antisemite and proponent of exalted “Holy German Art,” whereas Siegfield was a Jew whose art was lowbrow; in this light, possibly pertinent that changing French gentilhomme to “Gentlehomme’s” half-subtracts “gentile.” Compare next entry. 106.13: “Pessim:” besides (McHugh) passim, a pessim is a (Jewish) celebrator of Passover. FW disparagement of Shem often correlates with antisemitism. (Noah's son Shem was the first Semite.) Also, Latin for “worst.” 106.13-4: “The Suspended Sentence:” refers to both suspension of a judge’s legal sentence and as McHugh notes, FW’s last, unfinished sentence 106.14: “As Lo Our Sleep:” as London sleeps: compare 244.34-5. While London Sleeps was the title of an 1895 short story collection by Irish author Richard Dowling, and of a 1926 movie. 106.15: “Thit settles That:” tit for tat, that settles that. 106.17: “Welikin’s: given context, welkin - the sky 106.17-8: “It was Me Egged Him on to the Stork Exchange:” from tradition that storks deliver babies: she incited him to impregnate her. Joyce certainly knew of the tradition: see 325.6 and note. Storks lay ("Egged") eggs. 106.18: “Dutiful:” Beautiful 106.19: “Chee Chee Cheels on their China Miction:” three cheers (for the China mission), with stage-Chinese “l” for “r.” 106.21: “Measly Ventures of Two Lice:” Misadventures of Alice. (Or, via looking glass, Two Alices) 106.22-3: “If my Spreadeagles Wasn’t so Tight I’d Loosen my Cursits on that Bunch of Maggiestraps:” from A. Peters’ 1925 Dublin Fragments, Social and Historic, which Joyce read: “in the Coombe, under the ‘Spread Eagle,’ ladies might obtain corsets to their liking.” 106.23: “Maggiestraps:” P.W. Joyce: “strap:” “a bold, forward girl or woman.” Occurs in this sense in “Penelope.” Marge/Maggie is typically the less respectable member of the duo with Issy. 106.25: “from Love and Mother:” for love or money 106.26: “Exat Delvin Renter Life:” exit Dublin and render/enter/re-enter life – as at end of Portrait. Also, see Andrew Gibson, “Nobody Owns: Ulysses, Tenancy, and Property Law,” in Jonathan Goldman, Joyce and the Law (Gainesville, Florida, 2017), 122-34: the Dublin of Joyce’s time and after was, to an exceptional extent, a city of renters, almost completely at the mercy of landlords. 106.26-7: “The Flash that Flies from Vuggy’s Eyes has Set Me Hair on Fire:” as some photographs show, the young James Joyce was distinguished by his direct, piercing stare: one woman called him “the man with X-ray eyes.” (See 55.21-6 and note.) Like Nora, ALP has “auburnt” hair, and remembers her young lover’s “sheeny [shiny, shining] stare” (139.23, 626.25). This item puts the two – incendiary stare, hair on fire - together. 106.28: “Divine Views from Back to the Front:” aside from realtor’s prospectus and (compare 435.14-5) an artist’s or patron’s appreciation of the form and figure of an artist’s nude model, “Back to the Front” may be a soldier’s order to return to the front. 106.28: “Abe to Sare Stood Icyk Neuter till Brahm Taulked Him Common Sex:” “Brahm” here is apparently the polymorphous Hindu creation god Brahma, standing in for his biblical (more or less) equivalent Jehovah. 1. He not only tells the ancient ("Brahm") Abraham that he will beget a son (("Icyk") Isaac) with the almost equally old ("Sare") Sarah; he teaches him, or re-teaches him, how to do it: by good old, common old, sex. (“Neuter” probably implies that Abraham had lost interest in such doings until reinspired.) 2. Abraham is neutral about the Isaac question – whether to sacrifice him or not – until God knocks some (common) sense into him: of course not, ninny. All in all, a Mel Brooks-ish spin on scripture. (No idea what Isaac Newton is doing in here.) 106.31: “Seven Wives Awake Aweek, Airy Ann and Berber Blut:” (One of several cases – see for instance 104.10-1, and note - in which two successive items form a unit.) Anatole France’s 1920 Les Sept Femmes de Barbe-Bleu. Seven wives murdered nightly by Bluebeard would amount to a week of wakes. Also, Nazi-like distinction between Aryans and Berbers. Berbers are nomadic inhabitants of North Africa, sometimes called “blue men” because of their indigo clothing. In FW, the most significant is Jugurtha (403.13), with his “hindigan” indigo, here as the barbarian who was defeated, imprisoned, and killed by the Rome of Marius. 106.32: “Amy Licks Porter While Huffy Chops Eads:” drink and solid food (“eats:” American slang for food; perhaps also eggs) – a variant on FW’s running distinction between liquid-river wife and solid-land husband. “Licks” may be equal-opposite fusion of “likes” with “licks” in (again, American) sense of defeats or thrashes. As elsewhere, Porter is the family name. “Huffy:” Hubby. “Chops:” eats with his teeth, which are, or at least were - testimony elsewhere indicates that he has dentures - exceptionally powerful (see 624.36). “Amy” may equal Anny by way of double-n = m; see note to 105.15-6. 106.32-3: “Abbrace of Umbellas or a Tripple of Caines:” two umbrellas and three canes, perhaps jammed together as in Bloom’s “too full” “[h]allstand” (“Calypso”). The canes confirm testimony elsewhere that HCE is infirm or blind or both. “-Bellas” in “Umbellas” signals the two girls of the park scene. 106.33: “Buttbutterbust:" with German blut two lines earlier and the 2-3/3-2 twins signature (not to mention “Caines”/Cain in the previous line), this is very likely blutsbrüderschaft, the German blood-brotherhood which so appealed to, among others, D.H. Lawrence. Includes “Butt,” in II.3 a name for Shem, and “butter,” at the end of I.6 synonymous with Shaun. 106.33-4: “From the Manorlord Hoved to the Misses O’Mollies and from the Dames to their Sames, Manyfestoons for the Colleagues on the Green:” from high and high-class (the Howth manor) to the native women (“Mollies:” Irish term for women of low status); from ennobled “Dames” to their sames - women just like them, fellow peeresses in the peerage - but then again, au contraire: “Sames” corresponds to the “Mollies” of the previous juxtaposition. Further complication: the initials of “Misses O’ Mollies” spell out “Mom,” followed by “Dames,” French for Mothers. Manifestations (public displays, celebrations) of solidarity with “Colleagues on the Green,” which has a Robin Hood-ish leveling sound to it, but also encompasses Trinity College, from which native Catholics were excluded. 106.35: “An Outstanding Back:” again, equal opposites: an outstanding back in football is an exceptional athlete; otherwise, a fat arse, standing out from the bodily profile 107.2: "Mirsu Earwicker:" "Mirsu" is dentified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022) a Syrian god of irrigation. Perhaps pertinent that it is preceded by the Liffey's washerwomen. 107.3: “(Nuggets!):” Nuts! (American expression of dismissal) 107.5: “Fall him Putting it all around Lucalizod:” Oxford editors insert “by” after “him.” They were faulting him by putting out scandalous gossip. 107.8: “graph:” a “graph” is a pattern of intersecting horizontal and vertical lines. See note to 114.3-5, below 107.9-12: “There was a time when naif alphabetters would have written it down the tracing of a purely deliquescent recidivist, possibly ambidextrous, snubnosed probably and presenting a strangely profound rainbowl in his (or her) occiput:” the first testimony is of forensic authorities: alienist, handwriting expert, physiognomist, phrenologist. (The occiput, according to phrenology, houses the deeper instincts: loyalty, love of country and family, friendship.) A snub nose, to quote an 1871 text, is a physiognomic sign of “weakness and undevelopment” (compare “Circe,” where Bloom confesses that he once “rererepugnosed” something “rererepugnant”) – here, probably, a tautological inference from the “possibly ambidextrous” writing, which may in turn be a false inference from the inked writing on the verso having sometimes seeped through the thin (tracing) writing-paper (see note to .24-5) to the recto, which commingling in turn promotes the insinuation of sexual ambiguity “(his (or her))” in “ambidextrous.” (As McHugh points out, the “sexmosaic” of .13 will refer to an “organism with some male parts, some female parts.”) In both this first attempt at interpretation and the next (.12-8), a fundamental error, according to the argument (.23ff.), will have been to assume that the letter had one, and only one, distinct author. Circuitously and perhaps inevitably, this assumption will return at .30. 107.12-18: “To…flore:” an equally dismissive account of the more au courant analysis – alienists to analysts – of Freudians and similar occult source-seekers: mythomanes, philologists, reductive Darwinians for whom (as for Virag in “Circe”) the difference between human courtship and the insect variety is next to nonexistent 107.13: “entomophilust:” as elsewhere, especially in the “Ondt and Gracehoper” sequence, entomology and etymology are interchangeable. Here, a philologist is determined to trace a current word back to its original source, operating from the assumption that origin equals essence – thus (see above entry) excavating the entomological key to the nature of human lust. 107.16: “eye for the goods truth:” equivalent to “eye for the main chance” (the goods) – but also, equal-oppositely, devotion to divine (God’s) truth. Also, although the rhyme is pretty approximate, “truth” read as “though” makes the sentence’s syntax work out. 107.16: “bewilderblissed:” blunderbuss 107.19: “kidooleyoon:” OED defines “kidology” as the art of “teasing…humbug.” Google Books has examples from Joyce’s time, the earliest being 1905. 107.21: “worn rolls:” ancient scrolls of supposed wisdom, now worn-out and corrupt 107.21-3: “we must grope on till Zerogh hour like pou owl giaours as we are would we salve aught of moments for our aysore today:” night-seeing owls would presumably be dim-sighted and “aysore” (eye-sore) during the day, equal-oppositely like ourselves now, groping for the truth in darkness. Also, a “salve” is something to be applied to sore eyes. 107.22: “pou owl” poor old 107.22: “would we:” if we would 107.22-3: “aught of moments:” approximately: anything of importance (moment), especially pertaining to the moment at hand 107.24: “bordereau:” as Glasheen observes, the incriminating document in the Dreyfus case. Accounts of it constitute a major source for FW’s letter. See Jean-Denis Bredon, The Affair (1986), especially pages 72-4, also next two entries. 107.24-5: “a multiplicity of personalities inflicted on the documents or document:” the first handwriting authority summoned to testify about the borderau asserted at different times that Dreyfus had disguised his own handwriting or, alternatively, forged his own handwriting, or, again, that the handwriting might have been “traced” (the borderau was written on “lightweight paper…an extremely rare onionskin” (Bredin, 73)) from different documents written by various members of the Dreyfus family, including a sister-in-law named Alice, from whom the letter “s” was copied. As suggested in the entry for .9-12, photographs of the borderau show that ink has seeped through from the verso side, so that the handwritten letters sometimes lean one way and sometimes another, suggesting an “ambidextrous” author, so long as one ignores the seepage hypothesis. It was conventional wisdom at the time that markedly forward-sloping handwriting signified an active (male) personality, backward-sloping or even upright letters the passive (female) counterpart. (Joyce’s handwriting, by this standard, is probably borderline.) 107.28: “closed:” close: a familiar Joycean theme, for instance at the opening of “Proteus:” that to concentrate is to exclude. Also, the first Dreyfus trial occurred in “closed court” – a major point of contention at the time. 107.29-30: “contrarieties:” contrary varieties 107.30: “one stable somebody:” “stable” perhaps punningly anticipates the “meltwhile” [milkwhite] horse discerned at 111.30. If it’s the protagonist – HCE – being detected, his manifestation as the “big wide harse” (8.21) Willingdone/Wellington, who once said that being born in Ireland no more made him Irish than being born in a stable would have made him a horse, is part of the chain of evidence. 107.36-108.1: “Say, baron lousadoor, who in hallhagal wrote the durn thing anyhow?:” sense, sentiment, and idiom (who in hell wrote the darn thing?) all mark this as the interruption of an American, conventionally impatient with Old-World fancy-pants folderol; so, perhaps, does the sarcastically presumed aristocracy of the person addressed. This just-the-facts approach will predominate for about the next ten pages. 108.1-7: “Erect…learning?:” an access of skepticism, responding to the preceding run of theorizing: these are all possibilities, often mutually contradictory, and everything so far indicates that we haven’t a clue as to which if any of them might be right. (Still, a picture of Joyce working on FW does sometimes come through.) 108.1: “partywall:” see McHugh, and compare “party wall” (599.6); the Mullingar House had one. 108.1-2: “below freezigrade:” 0 degrees centigrade (freezing) is 32 degrees Fahrenheit - which would, under normal FW rules, call for an eleven in the near vicinity – here, possibly the “ll” in “quill” (.2). 108.4: “visit of seer to scribe or of scribe to site:” with “site” as site of writing, I suggest this gives a picture of the near-blind Joyce at work, his 10 % vision shuttling between what he can see, what he has written, where he has written what he last wrote - all complicated by the multiplicity of notebooks and revisions, the different “site”s - in play. 108.5-7: “a rightdown regular racer from the soil or by a too pained whittlewit laden with the loot of learning:” sums up a recurring issue in evaluating Joyce the writer: did he wind up stifling his distinctively Irish genius, racy of the soil, with all that ostentatious erudition, in the process whittling away his native wit? 108.6: “too pained whittlewit laden with the loot of learning:” he has taken pains – perhaps too many, at least for his readers – to pile up all that learning. Also, a two-paned or double-paned window conserves interior heat, presumably at some cost in transparency: another comment on Joyce’s defective vision and the possibility, first considered in Portrait, chapter five, that his being “weak of sight” may have inclined him toward inward reflection at the expense of engaging the outer world. Also, probably an overtone of “trepanned” in “too pained:” trepanning would have been prescribed for chronic headaches supposed to be caused by cerebral congestion. 108.14-5: “both brothers Bruce with whom are incorporated:” actually, Robert the Bruce had three brothers, all of whom joined with him in his battle against the English. “Incorporated,” as in “William H. Swan and Sons, Incorporated,” continues the business thread running through this page. 108.16-28: “If…oil?” compare Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “let some meinherr from Almany grope his life long for deephid meanings in the depths of the buckbasket.” Basically, another American-ish dismissal of continental pedantry 108.19: “all the barbar of the Carrageehouse:” if only because only the rich could afford one, a carriage house signaled aristocracy, here apparently at odds with the “barbarian” echo in “barbar” – perhaps (long shot here) to be taken as sounds of the horses housed in the vicinity, including the mews (also a sign of high class) managed by the mews-manager, the “measenmanonger” (.18). The Godolphian (compare 300.28) “barb” was the original sire of European, British, and, later, American thoroughbreds. 108.20-1: “three syllables less:” “Earwicker” minus three syllables = silence. 108.21-2: “the ear of Fionn Earwicker aforetime was the trademark [hence .23: “ace’s patent”] of a broadcaster:” trademark of RCA Victor (dog listening to record player – with his ears - and hearing “His Master’s Voice”). Appears in “Circe.” The assertion here, that a 20th century trademark was the “aforetime” origin of the family name – is an obvious anachronism. 108.24-5: “cotton, silk or samite, kohol, gall or brickdust:” see McHugh. First three: letter paper; second three: writing media. Although I can find no instance of samite used as writing material, it is a silk fabric, and as McHugh notes silk is and was sometimes used to write on. 108.25-8: “whereabouts exactly at present in Siam, Hell or Tophet under that glorisol which plays touraloup with us in this Aludin's Cove of our cagacity is that bright soandsuch to slip us the dinkum oil?:” blends Aladdin’s cave with Plato’s. (“Aladdin’s Cove,” apparently not a misprint, shows up several times in Google Books, as a secret, secluded dwelling or hiding place.) We are in a den of deceptive shadows waiting for the arrival of a “bright soandsuch” from the sunlit world outside to bring us the truth. “Under that glorisol:” under the sun 108.27: “dinkum:” the real thing – no fooling 108.30-1: “political odia and monetary requests…of a man or woman:” typical male and female communications, respectively. Compare 42.9: “a lady’s postscript: I want money. Pleasend.” 108.32-3: “conclusion leaped at:” phrase: leaping to conclusions 109.3: “ornery:” if shortening of “ordinary,” an example of grammatical syncopation. See note to .4-5. 109.4-5: “ratiocination by syncopation in the elucidation of complications:” he resolves difficult issues by simplifying them – eliminating or overlooking some of their components, essential or not. 109.5-6: “Fung Yang:” perhaps pseudo-oriental version of Finnegan 109.7: “longly:” if shortening of “longingly,” another example compare.3 and note) of grammatical syncopation. See note to .4-5. 109.11: “plaguepurple nakedness:” the buboes of the bubonic plague became dark purple, bordering on black, in the final stages; the Spanish Flu of Joyce’s time was sometimes called “the Purple Death,” from the color of the victims’ bodies. This is from a sequence about postal letters, and mail carriers during the time of the Spanish Flu were suspected (apparently, sometimes, correctly), of being inadvertent transmitters of infection. 109.17: “say,”: a casual (and distinctly American) version of “as one random example” 109.19: “antecistral:” pre-ancestral? If so, more syncopation 109.21: “blinkhard’s:” blackguard’s 109.27-8: “stretched, filled out, if need or wish were:” if she puts on weight - but also, perhaps, in the event of pregnancy 110.2: “Brien:” brine. Here, as throughout FW, ALP/Liffey's male lover, the salt sea washing upstream 110.3: “aboundin:” “Adam lay ibowndyn:” Mediaeval poem and hymn, on theme of Felix Culpa. 110.4: “clovery:” clover as symbol of Ireland. Also, to “be in clover” is to be happy and doing well. 110.6: “Our isle is Sainge:” probable overtones of (John Millicent) Synge, also of various Latin-based words for both healthy and bloody 110.7: “repeation:” repletion, repeated 110.9: “madh vaal:” Maida Vale – wealthy district of London. See .10 and note. 110.9: “tares:” in Jesus’ sparable, tares are weeds. 110.9-11: “(whose verdhure’s yellowed therever Phaiton parks his car while its tamelised tay is the drame of Drainophilias):” gist: cold, rainy Ireland gets its health-giving tea from hot places. 110.10: “Phaiton parks his car:” in Joyce’s time, a phaeton was a touring car, often chauffeur-driven, suggesting luxury. Goes with (.7) Maida Vale associations 110.11: “tamelised tay:” Tamil tea, from Ceylon (Sri Lanka). “Tay” is an Irish pronunciation, continued (.11) in “drame” for “dream.” 110.16-7: “cwold cworn:” “w” following initial consonant or digraph may be a signature of Welsh origins. 110.22-3: “Ahahn!” [New paragraph] “About that original hen:” compare 66.23, but this probably goes back to 10.31 ff. – yet another attempt, prompted by the supposed-to-be conclusive “Ahahn!,” to get back to the basics. 110.24: “bantlings:” OED: “bantling:” “A young or small child, a brat.” 110.25-30: “cold fowl…chip…orangery…limon…fragments of orangepeel…the last remains of an outdoor meal by some unknown sunseeker:” compare orange juice ads in which a golden sun turns into an orange orange, accompanied by lines like "Come to the Florida orange tree." In Ulysses, Bloom entertains similar ideas about Jaffa oranges. On a cold day in a cold climate, the sunseeking picnickers tried to compensate with sunny fruit. 110.31-111.5: “What child…Jacobiters:” confusing in the extreme, but seems to suggest that Kevin, or perhaps those acting in his name, somehow parlayed his discovery (of the chalice, or the brooch, or one confused with the other) into a patriotic pitch used to recruit unwitting volunteers into enlisting and getting themselves killed. “Tipperaw raw raw reeraw puteters” (110.36-111.1) mashes the popular WW I marching song “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” (Tipperary is near Armagh) with rah-rah-rah and, perhaps, expression “raw recruits;” New Zealand (“Now Sealand” (111.1)), along with Australia, relative to its population accounted for an extraordinarily high percentage of volunteers and casualties, especially at Gallipoli, a fact later bitterly attributed to the mother country’s presumed view of these soldiers as cannon fodder. (Clive James, distinguished Australian ex-pat, disputed this version of events.) These “Tipperaw raw raw reeraw puteters out of Now Sealand,” like tommies charging into a blood-soaked No-man’s Land, keep on going despite (Oxford correction replaces “spignt” (111.1) with “spight”) a landscape empurpled by “massacre” (111.2), to die as in an (equally stupid) “duel.” A “goddam” (111.3) is an English soldier, circa the Hundred Years War, and (111.3) “bigod” (aside from expression “b’God),” Big God, is a version of the Christian God sometimes peddled to aborigines: it may be a coincidence, but the American tubthumper Alexander J. Dowie, prominent in Ulysses, used the expression on his obviously gullible congregations: “He [Saint Paul] had a Big God. He had a God a good deal too big to be put in a medicine bottle, corked up.” (Dowie, Leaves of Healing, Volume 6, 1900; compare Dowie in “Oxen of the Sun:” “He’s…a corking fine business proposition…He’s got a coughmixture with a punch in it for you, my friend, his back pocket.”) “Sticks and stanks” (111.3-4) are sticks and stones, proverbially bone-breaking weaponry; also that which stinks and stank – battlefield corpses, perhaps. “[M]ost of the Jacobiters” (111.3-4) died in battle. Here as throughout, “Now Sealand” is also Ireland, where Tipperary is. Because Irish men were exempted from WW I conscription, patriotic appeals to enlist - see the posters available on Google Images - could be especially effusive. 110.33-4: “strate that was called strete:” opposing Irish to English pronunciation 110.35: "heily innocent:" Holy Innocent, as commemorated on the Feast of Holy Innocents, December 28, commemorating Herod's slaughter of the innocents. December 28, in winter, is a time of "sneezing cold" (.33). 111.5-6: “more than quinquegintarian:” (See McHugh.) Over fifty years old. Some, myself included, believe ALP’s default age to be (“liv” in Roman numerals) fifty-four. (Expression “no spring chicken” may be in background here.) 111.6: “Terziis prize with Serni medal:” third prize, with (see McHugh) silver medal; silver is normally for second place: 32, with 11 lurking in “ii” of “Terziis.” 111.7: “zogzag:” Zig-Zag cigarette papers were around in Joyce’s time. They are now and presumably were then exceptionally thin, like tracing paper. Boustrophedonic writing (as in Bloom’s concealed letters in “Ithaca”) proceeds zig-zaggily, back and forth, across the page. 111.9: “from Boston:” due to its heavily Irish-American population, Boston was sometimes called Ireland’s “thirty-third county.” 111.10: “the last of the first:” Jesus: “So the last shall be first, and the first last.” 111.10-20: “Dear…tch:” as noted elsewhere, your annotator attributes the letter’s radical discontinuity (for instance “well how are you” not showing up until about midway (.16)) to a number of possible physical factors: 1. that this is a “crossed letter” (see note to 114.3-5); 2. that, written on light-weight paper (once, for reasons of economy, customary for trans-Atlantic stationery), it shows some seepage of ink from the writing on the reverse side; 3. that, perhaps as a result of 2, it appears to be written boustrophedonically, eliciting confusion from a reader with normal expectations. Also, of course, as the testimony shows, it is stained, pitted with holes, and perhaps defaced in ways that can change, for instance, an E into an F or vice-versa. Another curious feature is that the letter includes all the letters of the alphabet except for x. This might be accidental. In English, x has one of the lowest rates of incidence. According to one source, it averages one occurrence per 127 words, and from “Dear” to “tch” the letter as presented on page 111 is 108 words. Harder to explain, just after reporting that “your Jermyn cousin signs hers with exes” (625.2), the last 1468 words of FW are also x-less. Although a few come fairly close, of no FW sequence of comparable length can that be said. Nonetheless, along with that datum about being “signed…with exes,” the letter is also described as having a “cut and dry aks and wise” – x and y’s – “of the semifinal” (122.2-3) and a “cruciform postscript” (122.20-1). At 424.12-3, Shaun’s version is “Fatefully yaourth…Ex. Ex. Ex. Ex.;” at 458.1-3 the letter as (“valentino”) valentine ends with “X.X.X.X.” Clearly enough, these are referring to the “four [sometimes three] crosskisses” of 111.17 and the “Lps” kisses of 628.15, with “cruciform” also signifying the pious sign-off “Yours in X,” Christ. X is, for sure, an exceptionally overdetermined character; still, your annotator wonders why the letter itself should be averse to just printing it out. 111.10: “Dear whom it:” a truncated “To whom it may concern,” as for a will? 111.11: “allathome’s:” compare 96.2: “all about,” in an opening that mimics a Muslim prayer, blending “Anna” with “Allah.” 111.10-11: “the hate turned the mild on the van Houtens:” common expression: "mild as milk." The “wedding cakes” referred to at .14 might well have been baked from a recipe combining Van Houten’s cocoa with milk: such recipes were included in the company’s packaging, and prolonged heat, souring the milk, would presumably have ruined the cake, in a way here being (diplomatically) acknowledged. Two problems: 1. Cart before horse: the cake(s) is/are not mentioned until two lines after the “turn”ing. See annotation to 111.10-20, above, for a possible explanation. 2. More, so to speak, substantially, one would not normally expect cocoa in a recipe for wedding cake. This may be a modern-day presumption, but browsings through Google Books recipes of the period seem to confirm. In any case, it was once traditional to send pieces of wedding cake to well-wishers not present at the ceremony: see, for instance, Meredith’s The Ordeal of Richard Feverel. 111.17: “twoinns plus four crosskisses:” I can’t discern an “A” to go before this, but the letter is signed by – ALP – Ann, usually in FW spelled as (“Add dapple inn” (113.17)) A double-n. Also: a long shot, in service of annotator’s agenda: it was uncommon but not unheard of to date letters at the end. (The fiftieth edition of Amy Vanderbilt’s Complete Book of Etiquette includes examples.) Two i’s plus four x’s: iixxxx: an unorthodox but plausible 38, or ’38. Your editor believes that FW’s default date is March 21, 1938, fifty-fourth birthday of ALP’s origin, Nora Barnacle. This contradicts the usual reading of “last of the first” (.10) as giving January 31, last day of first month, as the date. 111.17: “four crosskisses:” only three of the four are accounted for in what follows: the fourth may have been gnawed away (by locusts) or blotted (by tea stain). FW, following Vico, has three full-length units (Books I, II, III) and a transitional Book IV. Also, could ALP be illiterate? Is that why Shem, the scribe, is the one who actually writes the letter? “X” is the mark traditionally made by the unlettered; Nora’s father signed his marriage license with an X. 111.17-8: “holy paul:” “Holy Paul!” was a favorite expression of Joyce’s father. 111.18: “holey corner:” Holy Corner: crossroads in Edinburgh, so named because of the large number of churches in the area. Also, the letter is punctuated with holes. 111.18: “whollyisland:” Mink has this as the “holy island,” Ireland; there is also Holy Island of Lindisfarne, a pilgrimage site just off the coast of Northumberland. 111.18: “holipoli:” hoi-polloi 111.18-9: “(locust may eat all but this sign shall they never):” presumably because, however voracious, locusts don’t fancy either tea or urine. (See next entry.) 111.18-20: “pee…teastain:” in a way, the same thing, as forecast in “Telemachus:” “When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water….Begob, ma'am, says Mrs Cahill, God send you don't make them in the one pot.” 111.20-1: “(the overcautelousness of the masterbilker here, as usual, signing the page away):” compare “giving the game away” – that is, inadvertently revealing one’s strategy. Shem, involved in the production of the letter, is, at times, a forger (a bilker); here his mistake (apparently a common one, among art forgers) has been that his copy was more finicky than the original (or of the work typical of the original artist). He was over-cautious/over-cautelous. The ME “cautels” occurs in “Oxen of the Sun” with the sense, according to Don Gifford, of both cautiousness and deceitfulness. 111.22: “on the spout:” on the spot 111.23: “lydialike:” Lydian music is proverbially soft and soothing – as in “L’Allegro’’’s “Lap me in soft Lydian airs.” (Probably why Miss Douce – i.e. Sweet – of “Sirens” is named Lydia.) McHugh notes that Sheraton’s Lydia Languish wrote letters to herself – yet another warp or woof added to the letter’s cross-hatched conundrums anent origin and object: in one plausible reading, the letter is addressed to Maggie (.11) from Issy (“twoinns,” “lydialike” (.17, .23)) – one looking-glass girl to another. 111.24: “hurry me o’er the hazy:” A Google fishing expedition yields a translation of the Odyssey by George William Edgerton (1869) in which Penelope prays that the gods “Would onward hurry me o’er misty ways” (XX, 65). This sets the scene where Penelope appears to Odysseus in a dream. I suspect as well the presence of some folk-song line, such as “Carry the lad born to be king / Over the sea to Skye.” 111.26: “almost any photoist worth his chemicots:” developing negatives in Joyce’s day was very much a matter of knowing how to work with chemicals. Oxford editors replace “photoist” with “microphotoist.” 111.29: “values:” in painting, a value is a specific tone or degree of emphasis. 111.30: “meltwhile horse. Tip:” compare 8.21. 111.33: “sagacity:” compare “cagacity” (108.28). 111.33-111.2: “Heated residence in the heart of the orangeflavoured mudmound…Tip.:” in Joyce’s time, citric acid was sometimes used to develop negatives. Also, mulch piles produce heat. As the preceding page testifies (110.28-310), the letter, in some versions “buried” (624.4), was part of a picnic which included oranges. 111.36: “pecker:” also peeker, i.e. eye. 112.4-6: “jungle of woods. You most shouts out: Bethicket me for a stump of a beech if I have the poultriest notion what the farest he all means:” Background expression: can’t see the (“farest”) forest for the (“woods,” “Bethicket,” “stump,” “beech”) trees 112.4: “puling sample:” pure and simple. (Here used either maladroitly or ironically) 112.4: “woods:” words 112.3-6: “You…girly!:” parody or imitation of rural American southern dialect; Joel Chandler Harris would be a possible source. 112.6: “Gee up, girly!:” command to horse or mule 112.6-27: “The quad gospellers…literature:” tonally, an odd amalgam of American boosters and Oxonian bien-pensants. Matthew Arnold of “The Scholar Gypsy” ((.6): see McHugh) and Cardinal Newman of “Lead, Kindly Light” ((.9): see McHugh) were both famously men of Oxford, in their different ways “quad gospellers” (.5-6). Joyce naturally disdained Arnold as the embodiment of establishment aesthetics; he thought highly of Newman’s prose but also called him “a tiresome footling little Anglican parson who afterwards [cue sarcasm] became a prince of the only true church,” and the pairing with Isaac Watts (.9-11; see note to .11) would seem to stress a perceived weakness for unearned uplift – the overall tenor of these lines. 112.8: “kindlings:” see note to 111.33-111.2: again, mulch produces (sometimes intense) heat. 112.8: “hensyne:” hens’ signs: difficult-to-decipher handwriting is sometimes referred to as “chicken scratchings.” 112.11: “be it agreement in the nest:” Isaac Watts: “Birds in their little nest agree; /And ‘tis a shameful sight, / When children of one family/ Fall out, and chide, and fight.” Watts was proverbial for uplifting insipidity. 112.12: “automutativeness:” auto-motiveness: self-propulsion, with an approving nod to that symbol of modernity, the automobile. Nestlings become automotive when they learn to fly. 112.13: “normalcy:” an Americanism popularized by Warren G. Harding in the presidential election of 1920. “Normality” had been the perfectly adequate word up to then. 112.15: “fluffballs:” baby birds, introduced at 112.12 112.18-9: “golden age:” golden egg. Perhaps an allusion to “Jack and the Beanstock,” where the giant, seeking vengeance, pursues Jack for having stolen the golden-egg-laying goose. 112.19: “dirigible:” governable. Sequence of .19-22 seems to replicate that of .10-11. “Be it fly” (.10): the dirigible airship. “Be it moult” (.10), for instance a snake shedding its old skin: “Ague will be rejuvenated" (.20). “Be it hatch" (.11): “woman with her ridiculous white burden will reach by one step sublime incubation" (.20-1). “Be it agreement in the nest" (.11): “the manewanting human lioness with dishorned discipular manram will lie down together publicly flank upon fleece” (.21-2). See next three entries. 112.20-1: “white burden:” pregnant belly. Compare “white swelling” in “Oxen of the Sun.” 112.21: “will reach by one step sublime incubation:” pregnancy and childbearing will be quick and easy, thus canceling the prolonged pain imposed on women in Genesis. 112.22: “manewanting:” man-wanting/hunting. Perhaps an echo of (literary) lion-hunting hostesses. Also a nod to Freud’s theory of penis envy: a lioness wants (lacks) a mane (which is why she wants a man). In general, this new golden age will be pretty androgynous. 112.26: “in bleak Janiveer:” given context, the Chanticleer of Chaucer’s “Nun’s Priest’s Tale.” Possible echo of Christina Rossetti’s “In the Bleak Midwinter.” 112.26: “palmy date in waste’s oasis:” palm trees and date trees in desert oases 112.28: “marcella:” at one point, Nora had her hair shingled and marcelled. See also 204.23. 112.28: “madgetcy:” Madge – another name for Marge, Maggie 112.29: “Misthress of Arths:” Master of Arts – i.e. M.A. – in American universities, anyway, the step between B.A. and Ph.D. Note overtone of TCD - Trinity College, Dublin - in next line. As with the change from “toga virilis” to “Toga Girilis” ((.30): see McHugh), the term has been feminized, in accordance with the letter’s female provenance. Lisping (compare Sylvia Silence (61.1-10)) may signal an immature female; see, for instance, 623.10. 112.29: “hear or say:” hearsay; heresy 112.30: “(teasy dear):” TCD – again, Trinity College, Dublin 112.30: “a cop:” a copy 112.31: “fist right:” fist fight 112.32: “jotty:” jaunty. Compare “Jaunty Jaun” – 429.1. 112.34-6: “As a strow will shaw she does the wind blague, recting to show the rudess of a robur curling and shewing the fansaties of a frizette:” Oxford editors replace “she” with “so.” A straw will show which way the wind blows. During the FW years, George Bernard Shaw might plausibly have been charged with blague. (And with – “wind blague” – being a windbag.) The straw will stand erect at certain (presumably windless) times and bend into a curled shape – like a ringlet, like a round-heeled young woman – at other (presumably windy) times. “Fansaties” incorporates “fan,” perhaps one held by a flirty woman, fanning the air to make the straw bend. Which way the “wind blows” has of course long been a phrase associated with opportunists (i.e. whores), especially opportunistic politicians. (McHugh has grisette, French for “young working woman,” for “frizette;”other sources say that it also had overtones of flirtatiousness.) 113.1-2: “graith uncouthrement:” great accomplishment/accoutrement. Young ladies of the 19th century and before were expected to display their “accomplishments” – speaking French, sketching, playing the piano, etc; impressive accoutrements also helped. “Uncouth” is an equal-opposite. (Also, perhaps another trace of girlish lisp? See 112.29 and note.) 113.2: “postmantuam glasseries:” considering overtone of “post-mortem” here (see McHugh), it’s probably pertinent that glas is French for knell. Reflects critical consensus that Virgil (from Mantua) epitomized the golden age of classical poetry, followed by a gradual decline characterized by Alexandrian ingenuity and pedantry: a post-Virgil vocabulary, with its overly ornate glossary, would be showy for its own sake. 113.4: “almeanium:” Allemagne: Germany. German scholars were in the forefront of philology, including the study of etymologies. 113.5: “almeanium adamologists:” ultimately, at least in the 19th and early 20th centuries, an etymologist seeks the Adamic language – the original all-meaning tongue in which each word was exactly fitted to its referent. 113.5-6: “anyon anyons:” long shot, but in light of above annotation: Aryan Adams? German philologists were instrumental in advancing the theory that Aryan language was the Adamic tongue spoken by an Adamic race. 113.6: “lastways firdstwise:” first and last; see also 111.10 and note. 113.8: “tutus milking fores:” see McHugh: the expression “Two and two make four” – here (as is often the case) as part of a rhetorical insistence that, despite the best efforts of pedantic obscurantists, what really counts is simple and obvious. 113.8: “outerrand:” outer end 113.12: “the cock’s trootabout:” the God’s truth about 113.13: “No minzies matter:” No mincing the matter 113.15: “Dancings (schwrites) was his only ttoo feebles:” French “faiblesse,” weakness. (Joyce was known for his animated “spider dance.”) 113.19-21: “Mons…Venis:” “Mons:" short for Monsieur. Also, mons veneris, with an androgenating overtone of ("Venis") penis. 113.19: “tentpegs:” temptings. Also, consider Joyce’s notebook note: “Mts = tentpegs.” Commentary from the source: “Mountains were believed to keep the earth steady, as pegs do a tent.” 113.21: “any Genoaman against any Venis:” gentleman/Venus: male and female. The Genoa-man Columbus, whose voyages turned history to the west, versus the Venice-man Marco Polo, who had earlier directed it eastward 113.27: “mikealls or nicholists:” perhaps a stretch, but I suggest that this counterpoints the “all” of “mikealls" with German nicht, not, the opposition reinforced by overtone of ME “mickle” (much) and, with hard “i” in “nicholists,” nihilists. Russian nihilists were much in the news during the reign of Czar Nicholas. 113.28: “nolensed:” no-lensed: more eye trouble – something like a detached retina 113.31-2: “met with misfortune:” Compare Stephen in “Eumaeus:” he left his father’s house to “seek misfortune.” 113.32-3: “may remain to be seen:” that remains to be seen. Also, remains, in sense of corpse 113.33-4: “anxious to pleace averyburies:” anxious to bury every body – or, indeed, everybody 113.36: “poorjoist:” perjurer/perjurist. Joists would be the business of a worker in wood, as opposed to a “mason” (113.34) who works in stone. Tree vs. stone 113.36-114.1: “tunnibelly soully:” terribly sorry – probably with stage-English accent 114.1: ‘tis thime took o’er home, gin:” “At one o’clock Mrs. Joyce would start: ‘Now, Jim, come along. We are going home…”” (Lucie Noel, James Joyce and Paul L. Léon: The Story of a Friendship, p. 27) 114.2-5: "One cannot help noticing that rather more than half of the lines run north-south in the Nemzes and Bukarahast directions while the others go west-east in search from Maliziies with Bulgarad:” here, again, I think this describes a “crossed” letter, with lines both horizontal and vertical. The point was to save money on weight, therefore on postage. See “crossing” at 114.11. One of a number of reasons why the letter is so confounding. Just to further complicate (see note to 111.23), be it noted that such letters were sometimes the product of one party writing horizontally, the respondent crossing vertically over the original lines, and remailing. 114.5: “tot:” dot 114.7-11: “These ruled barriers along which the traced words, run, march, halt, walk, stumble at doubtful points, stumble up again in comparative safety seem to have been drawn first of all in a pretty checker with lampblack and blackthorn. Such crossing…:” crossed letters give a checkerboard (“pretty checker”) pattern, here recalling the popular board game called Snakes and Ladders. Players’ tokens progress boustrophedonically. (See notes to 111.7, 111.10-20.) The different kinds of moves (“run, march,” etc) are determined by luck. Note especially “stumble up again:” a “ladders” square sends the player’s piece upwards towards the goal. (During Joyce’s time, the game’s playing boards were often moralized: falling was caused by, for instance, drink or sloth; ladders represented virtues like duty and steadfastness.) Oxford editors delete the comma between “words” and “run.” 114.16-18: “But by writing thithaways end to end and turning, turning and end to end hithaways writing and with lines of litters slittering up and louds of ladders slettering down:” again, this would seem to describe the operation of writing a crossed letter – and, again, the boustrophedonic progress of a player’s piece in Snakes and Ladders: “lines of letters slittering up and lines of latters slettering down.” As often, Joyce introduces a figure-ground reversal: the snakes are “slittering” – slithering – not down but up, the “latters” – ladders – are letting us down. 114.18: “semetomyplace:” see me to my place 114.21ff: “One…:” introduces another line of inquiry – a “Sherlockholmesing” (“Eumaeus”) of seemingly trivial details in order to discern the true nature of the individual – like Holmes deducing marital discord from the state of a stranger’s hat. Beginning at 115.11, the approach will shift to psychoanalysis and then to Marxism – two subsidiary schools of It-is-no-coincidence-that clue-detecting also avid for subliminal giveaways. Possible source: chapter ten of Bleak House: Tulkinghorn’s inspection of an opium addict’s room. In both, writing implements are a critical part of the inventory. 114.21-29: “Another…past:” question: why all the Albanian in this patch? It has been scattered through the last few pages, is concentrated here. Occurrences of FW languages and idioms are usually predictable according to stereotype: German for heavy-handed pedantry, French for snootiness, etc. But Albanian? In this section, the language – according to no authority or source I’ve been able to locate – seems to signal a kind of (lower-case, Sherlock-Holmesian) bohemianism. 114.22: “drunkard paper or soft rag:” drugget paper, rag paper. The former doesn’t exist, according to Google, but druggets are made from wool, and mediaeval writing was done on sheepskins. (For paper made of rags, see 619.19.) Much of the evidence to follow suggests that “drunkard” is also apropos. 114.22: “vet:” short for veteran, in generalized sense of person of experience. Mainly if not exclusively an Americanism 114.22: “inhanger:” given context, hanger-on 114.23: “ous sot’s:” sot in sense of drunkard; goes with “drunkard” of .22. Oxford editors replace “ous” with “our.” 114.24: “cheery spluttered on the one karrig:” cheery or not, a single spluttering candle (because untrimmed – traces of scattered wax on the letter are presumably how we can deduce this) perched on a cold room’s only chair clearly signals – again – a bohemian, and probably impoverished, way of life. Nothing in the room’s catalogue is where it properly ought to be. Even without being informed that this is “a poor trait of the artless” (.32) we would probably recognize the pre-domestic Joyce reflected in Portrait, chapter five. 114.24-5: “a darka disheen of voos from Dalbania:" “voos” (see McHugh) is Albanian for eggs (as 184.11-32 reminds us, some artists – painters – mix eggs in their medium); “disheen” = drisheen, blood pudding, a kind of sausage: in other words, breakfast, probably deduced, again, from smears and spatterings on the letter. “Dalbania” mashes Albania (again: why?) with Alba – Scotland – and Dublin. 114.25: “any gotsquantity of racky:” possible overtone of “baccy,” tobacco. (Occurs in “Scylla and Charybdis.”) In any case, raki (see McHugh), a twice-distilled alcoholic drink, is exceptionally potent, seldom drunk undiluted or unaccompanied by water. Consuming large quantities – any (“gotsquantity”) God’s quantity – would be uncouth and a likely road to, or sign of, alcoholism. 114.25: “portogal:” see McHugh: Albanian for orange. Confirms earlier testimony as to the letter’s “orangeflavoured” source (111.35) 115.27: “softball sucker motru:” the first two words are Americanisms: softball – compared to hardball – is for sissies (McHugh: “motru” is Albanian for sister) and a sucker is a childlike gull. Gist is that the “buk” (.25) in evidence is namby-pamby, like (see next entry) the stories mother used to tell us. 114.27: “motru used to tell us:” (that) mother used to tell us 114.29-115.1: “The teatimestained terminal (say not the tag…) mademark…always:” again (see note to 111.17), your annotator thinks that evidence of the letter’s date (’38) may be signaled at its end, not, or not just, the beginning. "Tag" is Danish for day; “mademark” is both trademark and a datemark, stamped on (for instance) “pottery” (111.22); datemarks routinely include the year of production. At the very least, it would seem, the tea stain at the end tells us that the time of day was afternoon tea-time - although, in a typical FW bait-and-switch, 124.9-10 will propose that it may actually have been breakfast, that is, morning tea-time. Even less helpfully, 114.35-115.1 adduces that the letter was probably written either before or after 1690 A.D., and thanks a heap. In this case, the evidence is negative: the letter, we’re told, does not sign off with “Always.” No it does not, but on the other hand Issy’s letter-like message of 143.31-148.32 signs off with two of them, and the word occurs with considerable frequency in ALP’s farewell letter, beginning at either 615.12 or 619.20. (“Never say never” ought to be an FW watchword.) 114.33-5: “(for if the hand was one, the minds of active and agitated were more than so):” see 107.9-12 and note. The dialectic at work: definitely one author; au contraire, many authors; well, perhaps one author with many “minds.” Thesis, antithesis, synthesis. 115.3-4: “You have your cup of scalding Souchong, your taper’s waxen drop:” Sherlock Homes is back: which kind of tea made the stain is exactly the sort of thing he would know. In an apparent discrepancy with the overall analysis, Souchong would have signified a prosperous or upper-class tea-taker. So, in years past, would the wax taper, long a sign of the higher orders, as distinguished from the cheap mutton variety. Although by Joyce’s time mutton candles were largely relics of the past, FW twice includes them in inventories (185.4, 246.5) that seem to be at least partly of present or recent date. As earlier suggested, the fact of the candle is presumably deduced by drippings or spatterings on the letter paper: sealing letters with wax had long ceased to be customary except in the most formal of documents and seems never to be referred to in accounts of the letter, which was “sealed with crime” (94.8). As for “scalding:” would it be possible to tell whether the tea of a tea stain had been hot or not? Our investigator seems to think so. 115.5: “clove or coffinnail:” ancient Christian tradition that cloves resemble the nails driven into Christ. Also, clove cigarettes (see McHugh), around in Joyce’s time, were cigarettes scented with cloves. Presumably, after smelling the letter paper, the scrutinizer here is not sure whether the writer was chewing a clove, smoking a clove cigarette, or both. 115.11: “And, speaking anent Tiberias:” ? As best I can tell, no one in the chapter has made any reference to that name. Likeliest link: McHugh cites Tiberias, spelled, as here, with an “a,” as “chief centre of rabbinic scholarship,” Glasheen notes that “’Tiberian’ is a method of punctuating the Bible,” and Wikipedia and other sources confirm that the “Tiberian Masoretes” (spelling varies) worked to regularize accents and other notations in the Hebrew Bible. In all probability, the reference is in relation to the immediately preceding discussion about the markings – diacritical? accentual? wax spattering? – on the document in question. 115.11: “Tiberias and other incestuish salacities among gerontophils:” Tiberius married the daughter of his stepfather Augustus – if not strictly incest, an “incestuish” act. Due chiefly to the salacious Suetonius, he is best remembered as the depraved pederast of Capri, forcing children to service him gerontophilically. See next entry. 115.13: “tenderloined passion:” according to Suetonius, Tiberius hired boy swimmers to nibble at his privates – that is, in the vicinity of his tender loins. Also, as New York’s (and San Francisco’s) entertainment district, the “Tenderloin” was associated with sexually suggestive shows and prostitution. 115.15: “spoons:” spooning: American slang for sex play – man and woman lying together, back to front - usually stopping before intercourse 115.15-6: “summersaulting off her bisexycle:” One star of New York’s Tenderloin was Lillian Russell, famously posed suggestively on a bicycle in what has been called the first of the pin-ups. As “Nausicaa” and “Penelope” testify, turn-of-the-century women on bicycles were considered racy, if only because the wind sometimes blew up their skirts. See 437.3-8 and note. 115.16-7: “main entrance of curate’s perpetual soutane suit:” in Dublin slang, a curate is a bartender. The main entrance to any man’s suit would be presumably be the fly - buttoned, in Joyce’s day. This excerpt raises the eternal question: does a soutane have one? 115.17-8: “who picks her up as gingerly as any balmbearer:” that is, as gently as possible. The specialty of (“balmbearer”) ball bearings is reduction of friction. 115.20: “mauling:” in twenties slang, a mauler was an unwelcomingly overaggressive boyfriend or male date. 115.20: “where were you chaste:” to be read as the father confessor’s exasperated “Well, where were you chaste?” Compare Molly’s “Penelope” memory of confessor’s question: “Was it where you sat down?” Also, Joyce’s notes show another double meaning: hearing “chaste” as “chased,” the penitent answers (“Be who?” (.20)) - “By whom?” Also, probably a mortified boo-hoo 115.21: “and so wider:” again, in context of confession of sexual transgression: “You opened wider?” 115.23: “penumbra of the procuring room:” the projection room was where films were shown from, and had to be kept dark; because dark, movie theatres in general were prime make-out venues. 115.24: “what oracular comepression we have had apply to them!:” in context, sounds like the third degree. 115.24: “comepression:” compassion – here literally, as shared passion. Also mutual feeling-up: compare .35. 115.28: “who settles our hashbill for us:” traditional father as both provider (takes care of the bill) and disciplinarian (settles our hash) 115.30: “under the pudendascope:” that is, to the dirty-minded 115.31: “inverted parentage:” invented parentage – Freud’s “family romance.” Also, “invert” = homosexual 115.35: “feeler she fancie’s face:” face of the feller [fellow] she fancies. “Feeler:” see note to .15; compare “feelplay” (95.21.) American readers may not know that to “fancy” someone is to be romantically interested in them. Possible overtone of expression “fancy-free” 116.1-2: "as singsing so Salaman susuing to swittvitles while as unbluffingly blurtubruskblunt as an Esra:” both as romantically flowery as The Song of Solomon and as uncompromisingly blunt, brusque, and prone to blurting out as Ezra Pound, Joyce’s promoter and friend 116.2: “the cat’s meeter:” the cat’s meow 116.2-4: “the cat…meeter:” compare 223.23-4, with McHugh’s annotation. 116.6: “Showting Up of Bulsklivism:” shouting up, i.e. promoting, of Bolshevism 116.7-8: “that Father Michael about this red time of the white terror equals the old regime and Margaret is the social revolution:” the Russian Civil War was from 1917 to 1922. The interpretation given here makes sense: a priest would likely be on the side of the old order; Margaret/Maggie is Issy’s subordinate, perhaps servant (she breaks in Issy’s new shoes (459.15-6)), therefore a potential ally of revolutionary movements – although note that this one is “social,” not “socialist.” 116.11: “We are not corknered yet, dead hand!:” as in, shoved in a bottle and corked up tight. Compare the Simon Dedalus of Portrait, like Joyce’s father a Cork native: “We’re not dead yet, sonny.” “Dead hand” has long been an epithet among revolutionary types for any old and presumably outworn regime. 116.12: “the froggy jew:” Dreyfus (as a Frenchman, a “frog”): his persecution was a rallying point for leftists. 116.14-15: “from down swords the sea merged:” from downwards the sea emerged 116.15: “down swords:” to cease from combat – although here with a possible echo of “drawn swords,” meaning the opposite 116.16: “Est modest in verbos:” Latin modestus gives us English “modest,” and in fact the interpretation – and its words - from here to the end of the paragraph will be considerably more decorous and discreet than formerly. 116.16-19: “Let a prostitute be whoso stands before a door and winks or parks herself in the fornix near a makeussin wall (sinsin! Sinsin!) and the curate one who brings strong waters (gingin! gingin!):” neither has ostensibly been mentioned in the original letter, although “Maggy” (111.11) may suggest Mary Magdalene (thus a prostitute) and “Father Michael” (111.15) a (religious, not bar-tending) curate. In any case, the main point of reference here is apparently not page 111 but 115.13-6 – (always) already, not the document itself but an intermediary interpretation. “Fornication” derives from fornix, Latin for arch, under which Roman prostitutes proverbially lurked, in order to make "us-" (we men) sin. “Before a door” recalls the family name of Porter. Winking, in the context, signifies (female) sexual forwardness. At what point “parking” came to signify illicit sex in the privacy of a parked car is probably not determinable. 116.19-20: “dinna forget:” Scottish idiom 116.20-1: ‘between someathome’s first and moreinausland’s last:” from 111.10: “the last of the first” 116.21-5: “the beautiful presence of waiting kates will until life's (!) be more than enough to make any milkmike in the language of sweet tarts punch hell's hate into his twin nicky and that Maggy's tea, or your majesty, if heard as a boost from a born gentleman:” a dubiously successful effort to reverse-engineer highlighted elements of the letter into a coherent narrative. "Presence of waiting kates”- “beautiful present of wedding cakes” (111.13-4). “Hate” - “hate” (111.11). “Twin”- “twoinns” (111.17). ”Maggy’s tea” - “Maggy” and “tache of tch” (111.11, 111.20). “Majesty”- “Maggy,” perhaps also the vicinity of the tea stain (111.16). “Born gentleman” - “born gentleman” (111.15)). See next entry. 116.21-2: “waiting kates:” wedding cake. The cake mentioned in the letter is a piece of wedding cake, customarily sent to well-wishers unable to attend the service. (Also,” cates” is an Elizabethan term for food.) Gist of .21-4 (“and that…nicky”) is that on receiving this proof that his beloved has married another man, he feels like punching his rival in the face. “Milkmike” probably carries overtone of milksop (compare 161.16, 240.21-2): even a milksop like Michael would be moved to anger. (Compare 232.14-5.) I suggest that the specific nature of the violence imagined – punching holes into someone, presumably in his face – has its origin in the letter’s perforations. 116.22: life’s (!):” instead of life’s (.) – that is, its period or full stop 116.25: “boost:” boast 116.30-35: “or where…cart?:” at least at the end, the question is, could the human race survive if forced to make love in the lofty language of sermons and university lectures? Wouldn't that just extinguish the urge? 116.33: “gomenon:” echo of gnomon, a textbook word in either geometry or theology. (In "The Sisters," it's Euclid's Geometry.) 116.36: “So have been, love: tis tis: and will be:” “As it was in the beginning, now is, and ever more shall be.” “Tis,” when beginning a sentence, is a common Irish idiom for “It is.” Possible overtone of “Tsk! Tsk!” Throughout FW, doubled "i's signal Issy/Eseult, doubled t's signal Tristan/Tristram. Compare next entry. 117.10-11: “quiqui…michemiche:” as McHugh notes, echoes “mishe mishe to tauftauf” of 3.10-11 – one FW’s definitive motives. Here, by way of French “qui,” something like a call-and-response “Who? Who?” “Me! Me!” 117.11-2: “a jambebatiste to a brulobrulo!:” as McHugh notes, Vico’s first name of Giambattista, presumably after John the Baptist. John the Baptist was a (actually, the) Christian avant la lettre, and Bruno was condemned as a heretic against Christianity; John was beheaded and Bruno was burnt at the stake. So: from one extreme to the other, with the usual coincidence-of-contraries spin 117.13: “polygluttural:” gutturally polyglot 117.14: “florilingua:” flowery language 117.14: “flayflutter:” language of fans, expressed by a vocabulary of flutterings. Occurs in “Circe.” 117.14: “sheltafocal:” vocal Shelta 117.15: “pro’s tutute:” as Stephen remembers in “Scylla and Charybdis,” the prostitutes of Paris address prospective customers with the informal “tu.” 117.16-7: “Highho Harry:” Harry Frazee, who financed No No Nanette by selling Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees. See next two entries. 117.17-18: “a spurtfire turf a’kind o’kindling when oft as the souffsouff blows her peaties up and a claypot wet for thee:” mimics lines of ”Tea for Two,” signature song from No No Nanette 117.17-8: “o’kindling when oft as the souffsouff blows her peaties up and a claypot wet for thee:” the peat fire blazes up when blown on, for instance by a bellows, warming the tea for the pot: details of the snug little domestic scene of “Tea for Two” 117.18: “a claypot wet for thee:” contemporary instructions for tea-making specify that hot water should be poured into the pot to thoroughly heat and wet it before tea is added. The Irish call tea-making tea-wetting, and at 585.31 “You never wet the tea!” clearly has a sexual meaning: most read it as saying that the man did not ejaculate; I’m inclined instead to take it as saying that he never got the woman sufficiently – wetly - aroused. Here, in this scene of marital bliss, that is evidently not a problem. Since the song envisions the couple having children, it may be relevant that traditional medical science (to be sure, outmoded by Joyce’s time) taught that female enthusiasm, preferably orgasmic, was essential for conception to take place. Bloom speculates along this line in "Hades." 117.19-21: “(revilous life proving aye the death of ronaldses when winpower wine has bucked the kick on poor won man):” by contrast, a reveler’s life of drinking wine instead of tea will make him kick the bucket, worn out, before his time. Meanwhile, a reaction to this teetotaling homily starts showing up: wine (.20), wine and beer (.23), rum (.25), and perhaps pot liquor (.26-7) are getting their day in court. 117.21-30: “billiousness…tay.” The biliousness is presumably drink-induced, and despite the above admonition it has spread over (and muddled) the world, new and old, with Irish immigration playing a prominent role – an ironic counterpart to the spread of religion managed by Peter and Paul. 117.23: “two hoots:” two long blasts signal that a steamship is about to depart. 117.23: “Pieter’s in:” peterings 117.24: “Amsteldam:” Amstel beer, product of Amsterdam 117.25-6: “rum smelt his end for him and he dined off sooth american:” Rum spelt his end and he died, of sooth, American (either North or South American; the letter hails from the former). Implication may be that he died in exile, having gone to the dogs, through drink, in his native land. Overtone of Rome (“rum”) and Catholic (“Kettlelicker” (.26-7)) go with Irish-exile strain. 117.26-7: “even were one a normal Kettlelicker:” even your above-average drunk – someone who would lick the bottom of the kettle in which pot liquor had been distilled – would be disturbed by such a tale of alcoholic ruin. (Compare “Lestrygonians:” “Two fellows that would suck whiskey off a sore leg.”) 117.30: “tay:” Irish pronunciation of tea 117.31: “caldin in your dutchy hovel:” cold in your dirty Dutch hovel. Holland was a common refuge for exiles from the British Isles. (One such was Cornet George Joyce, alleged beheader of Charles I, who escaped to Rotterdam and, despite the efforts of Charles II’s agents to apprehend him there, was never seen again. See 516.19, 516.23 and notes.) 118.5: “beakerings on that clink:” clinking of beakers – a toast 118.5: “olmond bottler:” compare description of Sackerson (141.8-26): an old man, a bottle-washer. Paired here with “bafflelost bull,” Buffalo Bill, he certainly has a “roughshod mind” (.5-6). 118.6: “to volt back to our desultory horses:” meaning of “desultory” (OED: “irregularly shifting, devious”) seems within range of the previous “positively grotesquely distorted macromass of all sorts of horsehappy values” (111.28-30). 118.12-3: “somebody mentioned by name in his telephone directory:” Irish telephone directories first appeared in 1911. Although the names of many (non-telephone-owning) inhabitants were doubtless excluded, there must have been enough names to make this yet another next-to-worthless clue. 118.14-7: “O, undoubtedly yes, and very potably so, but one who deeper thinks will always bear in the baccbuccus of his mind that this downright there you are and there it is is only all in his eye:” one kind of reductive dismissiveness rebuts another. The previous speaker has just said that even though we may not know the specifics, we can be sure that some definite somebody wrote the letter at some definite place and time. The answer here is that even such “downright there you are and there it is” matter-of-factness is conjecture: it might be “all in his [your] eye:” that is (see McHugh) nonsense, or all in the eye of the beholder. Recalls Stephen’s imagined Berkeley-Johnson faceoff in “Proteus,” later expanded in FW IV 118.18-119.9: “Because…do:” back to the speaker of 117.33-118.14, whose rhetorical strategy here mainly amounts to a reductio ad absurdum rendition of .15-7. Well, if it comes to that, how can we be sure of anything? But that way madness – and ("Bebel" (.18)) Babel - lies. The fact is we have something real here, the existence of the letter, and that’s at least a start. 118.18-21: “(and dormerwindow gossip will cry it from the housetops no surelier than the writing on the wall will hue it to the mod of men that mote in the main street):” a gender-specific account of the resulting Babel-like confusion of tongues: women (“gossip” – by Chaucer’s time a woman’s best female friend, in addition to its meaning today) will chatter away; men, in their Irish all-male (“mod of men that mote…thing” (.20-1)) thingmote (along with the man in the street) will, like (see McHugh) Belshazzar’s clueless advisers, jabber incessantly about something they can’t understand; the overall upshot is ("gobblydumped" (.22)) gobbledygook. 118.22: “gobblydumped turkery:” turkeys gobble. 118.24-5: “inkhorn (possibly pot):” sometimes synonymous, sometimes not quite. Inkpots were being called inkhorns well past the point that they had anything noticeably horn-like about them. 118.28: “so holp me Petault:” from a Google Books survey, the likeliest source is the saying (translated from French) “the court of Petault, where anyone who wishes it is master.” 118.34: “tare it or leaf it:” a tare is a weed; a book’s page is sometimes (e.g. 628.6) called a leaf. 118.34-5: “we are lufted to ourselves as the soulfisher when he led the cat out of the bout:” when the disciples Peter and Andrew were casting their nets (from a boat), Jesus announced that he would make them “fishers of men” – meaning, surely, the souls of men. The kingfisher bird is known for hovering aloft in the “luft” – air – before its sudden dive towards its prey. It’s remotely possible that Joyce had two well-known poems, “As Kingfishers Catch Fire” and “The Windhover,” both by his fellow UCD-er Gerard Manley Hopkins, in mind here; in the latter the hovering-aloft soul-fisher is Jesus. (“Sprung Verse” (293 LM 2)) shows that Joyce had some familiarity with Hopkins.) Oxford editors change “lufted” to “luffed,” insert “said” between “soulfisher” and “when,” and change “bout” to “boat.” To luff is to steer a sailboat near the wind; in my judgment the change retains an overtone of “luft.” 118.36: “hidmost:” most hidden 119.2-3: “lefftoff’s flung over our home homoplate:” baseball: a left-handed pitcher throws the ball over home plate. May be connected with the Harry Frazee story, noted at 117.16-7, above. Babe Ruth was left-handed, and began his career as a pitcher. (Confession: years ago I listed Babe Ruth as an example of contemporary figures not appearing in FW. Again: never say never.) 119.10: “flayfell foxfetor:” fell: skin or pelt, flayed off. Fetor: stench. Foxes are proverbial for their foul smell; a fox’s skin, in English literature anyway, usually signifies vileness, often sexual in nature. Here, as an example of female perversity in these matters, the farm frau is drawn to him, especially by his (see McHugh) flair, French for smell. 119.14: “dropped final:” linguist’s term for final consonant missing in pronunciation, for instance “runnin,” not “running.” 119.17: “meant to be baffling chrismon trilithon sign:” baffling indeed: a chrisom (chi-rho) resembles a Latin P crossed with X; HCE’s sign, as “trilithon,” is an E with prongs pointing downward. Any resemblance between the two eludes me. On the other hand, if the "tri-" in "trilithon" is taken as signifying three as opposed to the usual two megalithic uprights (see McHugh), it would qualify as one of the regular meanings of that downward-pointing E, and of course Christ's number is three. 119.18-9: “moved contrawatchwise, represents his title in sigla:” rotated 90° counter-clockwise is E, HCE’s siglum. 119.19: “sigla:” a comma-like pause after this word probably helps the sense. 119.19-22: “the smaller Δ…consort.” In some form, “d” and “e,” as in the letter’s “Dear” beginning (111.10), are side by side: de… (Again, in some form: the “E” is supposedly capitalized; “smaller Δ” may indicate that the letter is lower-case (which would not resemble a delta), that the type font is unusually small, or just that the woman for whom it stands is shorter than her “consort.”) 119.19-21: “fontly called following a certain change of state of grace of nature alp or delta:” “fontly:” compare the letter’s closing, “fondest to the twoinns” (111.17): as the D/ Δ in “Dear” and the giver of the concluding kisses, ALP both begins and ends the letter. Baptisms, conferring the change of state called grace, are performed in fonts at the entrance to churches; ALP is FW’s grace-conferring water principle. (Probably also the source of the letter’s watermark.) 119.22-3: “heard from Cathay cyrcles:” Souchong (115.4) is from China. Since what follows seemingly seeks to question the hen’s ancestral pedigree (she was presented, at 111.3-4, as “Belinda of the Dorans,” winner of several best-in-show poultry prizes, but then again Hardy’s heroine was pretentiously renamed “Tess of the D’Urbervilles”), a probable overtone of “catty circles” – which in this case would also be, incongruously or ironically, a hen circle. 119.23-6: “a tick or two after the first fifth fourth of the second eighth twelfth – siangchang hongkong sansheneul - but yirely the other and thirtieth of the ninth from the twentieth:” best guess: given Chinese cluster (tracing from the Souchong tea), this may reflect traditional habit of dating Chinese history according to order number of the dynasty and of the emperor’s order of appearance within it. Thus Ming = Twenty-first Dynasty, its twelfth emperor one in a sequence extending to seventeen. “A tick or two:” a short span of time, like almost any period measured against the cycles of Cathay. 119.23: “the first fifth fourth:” again: your annotator believes that ALP’s default age is 54 because that was Nora’s age on FW’s default date of March 21, 1938 - her birthday and the first day of her 54th year. 119.24: “second eighth twelfth:” more talismanic FW numbers: 28 Leap Year Girls (minus Issy, the 29th), 12 customers. Also, see next item. 119.25-6: “thirtieth of the ninth from the twentieth:” 39 Articles (associated with HCE, as member of Church of England); 29 = the 28 + Issy; 30 = 28 plus Issy and Marge 119.26: “vulgar:” as in Vulgar Era, alternative term for Anno Domini; compare 384.36. 119.27-8: “the former for a village inn, the latter for an upsidedown bridge:” Obvious? = outline of walls and roof of inn, divided by door; Δ, upside down, is a bridge’s surface road propped up by struts fixed to island or emplacement at center of river bed and extending diagonally outward. 119.28-9: “multiplication marking for crossroads ahead:” in Book III, the four old judges (X) will cross-examine Shaun as he is stretched out on a crossroads. 119.29: “pothook for the family gibbet:” Shaun is the law-enforcer: at 221.11-2, as “Chuff,” he is also a hangman. 119.30: “fourwheedler:” as the book itself, four chapters corresponding to four Viconian ages, wheeling around back to the beginning. In other words, squaring the circle 119.31: “onesidemissing:” the maybe-mad Shem, elsewhere alleged to have “a slade off” (165.35), a slate off, i.e. not all there, i.e. non compos mentis 119.31-2: “an allblind alley leading to an Irish plot in the Champ de Mors:” with a noting of Joyce’s blindness, a prediction that his career will be a dead end (the opinion of many during the WiP days) and that he will be buried in Paris as an Irish exile – as indeed, at the time, Joyce had every reason to expect. Several of Joyce’s Paris addresses were in the vicinity of the Champs de Mars. 119.32: “the steady monologuy of the interiors:” perhaps the first hint that the letter is to some degree Ulysses, as well as FW itself. 120.2-3: “the curt witty wotty dashes never quite just right at the trim trite truth letter:” like a conceited wit who, for reasons of boredom or guilt, can never bring himself to tell the simple truth. Sounds like a philistine’s account of Oscar Wilde’s too-clever-by-half performance on the witness stand. Wilde was convicted from the testimony of his own letters. Also, again: the t. t. t. letter is t/T, the dash is the horizonal stroke across its vertical, as well as the single dash that is Morse for “T.” Two dashes, as in TrisTram, are repeatedly Tristram’s telegraphic signal to Issy/Iseult, who responds with the two dots – ii – of Morse for “I.” 120.7-8: “dummpshow:” writing – especially as being read here - as dumbshow. 120.9-10: “prepronominal funferal:” at 111.15, “funferal” appears before the name of the deceased, Father Michael. 120.11: “whale’s egg:” being mammals, whales do not lay eggs. 120.12: “nuzzled over a full trillion times:” see above entry. Whales have long gestation periods – from ten to eighteen months. 120.14: “obeli:” an obelus (– or ÷) designates a suspected error in the text. Despite the testimony here, the letter as presented (111.10-20) has no obvious examples of either sign. (Also, although the letter as presented is without a “j,” “q,” or “z,” the commentator claims to identify all three (119.36, 121.17, 123.4). Caveat lector.) 120.19-20: “those superciliouslooking crisscrossed Greek ees:” “The Greek ‘e’ indicates refinement as well as culture.” (Fritzi Remont, The Revelation of Character to Handwriting: A Simple Guide to Character Delineation, Los Angeles, 1918, p. 33); other Google Books hits suggest simple pretentiousness. Presumably one reason Bloom writes Greek e’s in his letters to Martha Clifford 120.19-20: “superciliouslooking:” to quote from Brendan O Hehir’s Classical Lexicon: “long G vowel E transliterated…by a circumflexed e: (ê).” The circumflex resembles an arched and raised (hence supercilious) eyebrow. 120.20: like sick owls hawked:” Greek lower-case “ε” may plausibly resemble a childish outline of a bird, whether hawk or owl – perhaps “sick” because lying on its side. 120:21-2: “geegees two, jesuistically formed…aggrily…occident:” a j becomes a g when, as illustrated by the “gg” in “aggrily,” its top and bottom halves turn and respectively bend and kneel (the letters’ tails as bent knees) toward the west, that is toward the right side of the map/paper. (This works best if the handwriting is backward-slanting; see note to 107.24-5.) Two g’s turned into j’s = jj/JJ, James Joyce, formed by the Jesuits. Why, since most church-going Christians are bowing, kneeling, or genuflecting towards (their “toewards” toes towards) the altar, traditionally at the east end of the nave, “occident” rather than orient? Perhaps by accident; perhaps the spelling of “occident,” omega replacing alpha, is an accident. 120.22-3: “kakography:” shit-writing. A ("stabletalk" (.23)) stable would be the place to do it. Probably connected with Shem’s medium of writing, which in turn comes from household recipes for ink calling for urine in the mix. Maybe irrelevant, but the invisible ink used by spies is sometimes made from bird guano and becomes visible by being held to a fire: compare 123.30-6. 120.23: “stabletalk:” as in: from the horse’s mouth 120.24: “the learning betrayed at almost every line’s end:” conventionally, footnotes and endnotes – tokens of learning, or at least of pedantry - are often signaled, not where the word or phrase in question first appears, but at the end of the sentence in which they appear. 120.27: “sinistrogyric:” would seem to support boustrophedonic hypothesis (114.16-8) 120.28: “throne:” comical euphemism for “toilet,” used in “Cyclops.” A cursive W resembles the midsection of someone squatting on a toilet, as seen from behind. That is why it is “seated with such floprightdown determination and reminding uus [another double-u] ineluctably of nature at her naturalest” (120.31-3). “Nature calls” has long been a jokey way of announcing that one is headed to the bathroom - or, here (.30), the "loo." See next entry. 120.28: “throne open doubleyous:” 1. sign on toilet door saying it is open; 2. outline of “W,” cursive or block, is thrown open at top. 3. As “open throne,“ perhaps a version of French chez percé, commode; 4. the phrase “open throne” occurs fairly frequently in accounts of royal ceremonies – the sense seems to be that the monarch’s presence is on public display, open to all – which, at least for Louis XIV, was actually sometimes the case with his sessions on the chez percé. 120.30: “loo – too – blue – face – ache:” "agglutinatively" (.30) or not, the logic here is associative: three “oo” rhymes in a row, then to blueface (ancient Celtic warrior), then, face-to-face, to face-ache, sometimes a result of cold weather. 120.31: “illvoodawpeehole:” given the context, I note here the presence of “peehole,” that is, presumably, the urethra. 120.33: “fretful fidget eff,” ff: “F” seems to be given this character because “fuck” (which we still call the “f-word”) begins with it (the mark of an “unfashionable…hetarosexual,” hence “hornful,” with phallic sense of “horn”), not to mention “fig,” “frig” and “fart.” If I’m right that FW’s letter is 1. cross-written and 2. tracing-paper thin, with writing on the reverse side, then the fact that it is written “in two boldfaced print types” (120.36) would account for the way it “stalks all over the page” (121.2-3) while facing all different ways: the bold-face impression makes it the most noticeable letter on the page; the backward f’s are from the other side of the paper, showing through. Notable that the letter’s f’s (in “face,” “funferall,” “Father,” “forget,” “fondest,” and “four”), aside from being, in their own terms, pretty forceful, all, with the exception of the second f in “funferall,” begin words, and that in their self-presentation (“stalks all over the page” (121.2-3)) they seem to be exceptionally, so to speak, forward – or, to use another applicable term, anthropomorphized (120.36), “boldfaced.” 120.34: “bornabarbar:” “barbarian” derives from Greek version of the sound of non-Greek speech. 121.2-3: “stalks, all over the page, broods sensationseeking an idea:” stick figure in meditation, its hands behind its back, the bottom horizontal tracking the path of its stalking. (At .7 it will be the trail of the brooder’s shoestring.) 121.5: “basque of bayleaves all aflutter:” Basque berets were – perhaps still are – stereotypically the headgear of Parisian artists and other Rive Gauchers. The calligraphic frets of the initial F (see Sullivan quote in McHugh) give the hat its fluttering bay leaves. To McHugh’s annotation – that bay laurels were awarded to Roman emperors – may be added the fact that they were earlier bestowed at the Pythian Games of Delphi for artistic excellence. 121.5: “forksfrogs:” can’t account for the forks, but given context, frogs here are the loops of military uniforms – once functional, by Joyce’s time they had come to be akin to medals: the more you had, the better. Goes with “bayleaves” (.5) as a sign of distinction; like those, traceable to Book of Kells ornamentation – here, of the curlicue sort. 121.16: “haughtypitched:” the high-pitched left leg of lower-case “h;” also the haughtiness of King’s-English types who never drop their aitches 121.17: “halve:” suggestion: aside from some hapless jaywalker being ploughed into and cut in half by a motor vehicle, this may be read as “have,” supplying the sentence’s predicate. 121.19: “as pipless as threadworms:” see McHugh for preceding “disdotted aitches” – letters (“i” and “j”) from which the dots have been excised. Pips are, among other things, dots, and worms, being blind, have no (dot-like) eyes. 121.20: “frank yet capricious underlinings:” probably referring to the words – it certainly seems, capriciously – italicized in the letter, that is, “the van” and “lovely” (111.12, 13). Words underlined in handwritten documents are often italicized in the print version. 121.21-3: “about as freakwing a wetterhand now as to see a rightheaded ladywhite don a corkhorse:” gist: nowadays, thankfully, such behavior would be freakishly rare. “Wetterhand” and “rightheaded” adumbrate “left-handed” and “right-handed.” (“Wetter” as “widder” in “widdershins,” opposite of “deshil,” which, as in “Oxen of the Sun,” means both clockwise and right-turning.) “Rightheaded” as approximate synonym for right-minded: a proper, right-thinking lady would not mount – “don” - a cork horse. For one thing, according to Google Books a “cork horse” is unpredictably spirited; for another, to “don” a horse in the sense of ride probably rules out side-saddle; for another, there’s that overtone, from the jingle, of “cock,” which carried its sexual meaning at least as early as Ulysses. Again, gist: we live in a more refined age than that of our ancestors: no more (or so we thought: see next item) phallic snakes slithering around, no more ladies randomly straddling cocks (or non-neutered stallions). “Wing” in “freakwing” may convey the slang sense of hand or arm. 121.23-5: “in its invincible insolence ever longer more and of more morosity, seems to uncoil spirally and swell lacertinelazily before our eyes under pressure of the writer’s hand:” banished or not, the phallic S/snake keeps showing up and, worse, growing longer and thicker. Insolently? Compare Issy on the clitoris, her “little rude hiding rod” (307, Fn. 1): “The impudence of that in girl’s things!” (296, Fn. 5). As for why this is happening “under pressure of the writer’s hand:” the writer is female. Almost certainly a fond remembrance, here, of James and Nora’s first date, when she gave him a hand job. 121.26-7: “ah ha…oh ho:” Alpha-Omega 121.27: “oaproariose:” operatically uproarious 121.31: “lubricitous conjugation of the last with the first:” refers to 111.10: “of the last of the first.” “Lubricitous” may have overtone of ludicrous. Pretty clear application to FW itself. 121.31-2: “mating of a grand stylish gravedigging with secondbest buns:” refers to 111.13-5: “beautiful present of wedding cakes for dear thankyou Chriesty and with grand funferall of poor Father Michael” 121.35-6: “Fullup MDCXC: the scholiast has hungrily misheard a deadman’s toller as a muffinbell:” introduces the possibility, to be revisited at 124.3-28, that not only the interpretation but the letter itself may in part be the result of a reader’s physical input; here, to the ears of hungry commentator the tolling of a funeral knell is wishfully heard as a bell signaling that it’s time for muffins and tea, typically at 4:00 p.m., with the result that what in most batches of copies reads as “cakes” is for this collection written as “buns.” Muffin bells, rung by street merchants, were features of British urban life though the 19th century and were remembered for having incited hunger cravings, especially in children. Likewise, the seven sequential items, from “Cod” to “Fullup” (.34-5) seem to list the seven canonical hours of the day as mediated and transcribed by someone hungrily thinking of breakfast, lunch, etc. MDCXC, 1690, was the year of the Battle of the Boyne; compare 114.35-115.1. 122.1-2: “ampersands under which we can glypse at and feel for ourselves across all those rushyears the warm soft short pants of the scribbler:” being quicker to write than “and,” the ampersands tell us that the writer was in a hurry; we can imagine him (actually, for the p. 111 letter, her) panting as his/her pen rushes ahead. In a variant on the trope of dead author shaking hands with living reader (see, for instance, the conclusion of Trollope’s Autobiography), we feel as if we can reach back and feel up their pants. (See 121.23-5 and note.) 122.2: “warm soft short pants:” Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan:” “As if this earth in hot thick pants were breathing.” An old schoolboy laugh-line 122.3-4: “vocative lapse with which it begins and the accusative hole in which it ends itself:” “Maggy” in “Dear…Maggy” (111.10-1) may be the vocative. As the object of the preposition “from,” “tache of tch” (111.20) is probably the accusative. 122.5: “once loved number leading slip by slip:” Since this recalls the loss of faculties – here, of memory - with age, I suggest it echoes Shakespeare’s phrase “lean and slippered pantaloon,” on the same subject. 122.6-7: “rrrr:” stage pirate-talk. The Wikipedia entry “Talk like a Pirate Day” entry records that the earliest known use of “Arrr!” (or “Arrrgh!”) as a pirate tag line was Lionel Barrymore’s performance as Billy Bones in the 1934 movie of Treasure Island. I think this passage indicates that, instead of inventing it, Barrymore picked it up from somewhere else. The “hieroglyph of kettletom and oddsbones” (122.7-8) = the skull and crossbones; the goal is “truce with booty” (122.9); the language is consistently that of lawless ruffians; the cast does things that pirates proverbially do: gamble, swear, drink, fight amongst themselves, seize property, especially church property. That, for humans as well as animals, “rrrr” is the growling sound of hostility surely contributes. 122.9-20: “and rudely…then:” pirates, and perhaps other roughnecks, in heated games of chance, both dice and cards; appearance of “cruciform postscript” at .20-1 recalls the soldiers dicing for Christ’s robe at the foot of the cross. 122.10: “within an aim’s ace:” Ambes-ace – two aces, that is ones, in dice – the lowest possible roll, and bad luck. Given intermittent presence of snakes in the premises, may be pertinent that it is also known as “snake eyes.” 122.11-2: “Those Who arse without the Temple:” expression in writings of Augustine, among others: “those who are without the law” – “without” in sense of outside 122.13: “jig jog jug as Day the Dicebox Throws:” jog along as chance determines 122.13-8: “whang…whang:” sound of cards being slammed down emphatically 122.14: “loyal six:” a royal six – A, 2, 3, 4, 6 – is the lowest five-card hand possible, the card-playing equivalent of Ambes-ace (see .10 and note) in dice. 122.14: “bluid:” Scots dialect for blood; possible overtone of blue-blood 122.17: “Villain Rufus:” William Rufus, unpopular king after William the Conqueror; mysteriously killed in the New Forest 122.18: “spoil five:” see 201.1 and McHugh notes. 122.19: “pigsking’s Kisser:” pigskin: American term for the ball used in American football. Also, German fairy tale König Schwein; the adjoining “Kisser” may accordingly be the Kaiser, who certainly earned the Pig King epithet. 122.20: “coming over to the left aisle corner down:” again, would seem to be consistent with boustrophedonic reading suggested above; also for “Snakes and Ladders:” see entries for 114.7-11, 114.16-8, 114.16-8. 122.20: “cruciform:” that is, X-shaped 122.21-3: “three basia or shorter and smaller oscula have been overcarefully scraped away:” query: is this saying that there were originally seven X’s, three of which have been erased, or that the four recorded include one originally visible to the naked eye and three others later detectable through, among other things, chemical analysis? No idea which, but that it inspired the Tunc page (.23-4), with its single large X, would seem to argue for the latter. 122.21: “basia…oscula:” see McHugh: the X’s stand for kisses. 122.22: “overcarefully:” compare 111.20-1 and note. 122.26: “chugged:” chucked. Also, given “ballotboxes,” checked: marking the square on the ballot 122.26: “three ballotboxes:” the Tunc page’s three marginal panels are in the shape of rectangles missing one side – like open boxes. 122.28: “starting with old Matthew himself:” the Tunc page is a quotation from the Gospel of Matthew, the first of the four apostles. 122.33-4: “a tongue in his (or perhaps her) cheek:” it’s a French kiss, all right, but whose tongue is in whose (and which) cheeks? 122.34-5:” the fatal droopadwindle slope of the blamed scrawl:” “Writing which descends at the right is indicative of a struggle with fate:” Fritzi Remont, The Revelation of Character to Handwriting: A Simple Guide to Character Delineation, Los Angeles, 1918, p. 24 123.1: “fourlegged ems:” Fritz Senn: “In his notebooks Joyce does in fact often write an “m” with four legs.” Since there are no m’s in the text of the Tunc page, we are apparently back to the page 111 letter all by itself. 123.1-2: “why spell dear god with a big thick dhee:” actually, the letter of page 111 begins with “Dear…Maggy” (111.10-1) and appears to include nothing on the order of “Dear God.” On the other hand, “Maggy” can sometimes morph into “Majesty,” from (478.12) Latin “majestas, majestatis,”a term often applied to God or gods. 123.2: “the cut and dry aks form of the semifinal:” cut and dried: plain and simple, without adornment. “X & Y” (McHugh) as in the axes of a geometry graph: Joyce described “Ithaca,” the semifinal chapter of Ulysses, as “a mathematico-astronomico-physico-mechanico-geometrico-chemico” production, and many of its features are plotted out as on a graph. 123.10: “matteroffactness of a meandering male fist?:”according to Brewer, for printers, the figure of a hand with index finger pointing is called a fist. 123.12: “photosensition:” photo sensation. Also, an envisioned science-fiction invention, expected “in the “none too distant futures” (.13), for turning light into some other sense, probably that of feeling. 123.13-4: “may be logged for by our none too distant futures as soon astone values can be turned out from Chromophilomos:” “Reproduction will be on a full-size screen, and colour films will be included in the transmissions. Recent Baird developments in big-screen and colour television have shown that the technical considerations are capable of solution.” – Popular Wireless, December 25, 1937, quoted in “Television in Notebook VI.B.46,” by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu, Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 20. Excerpted in Joyce’s notebook. As McHugh annotates, “Chromophilomos” can be translated as “(artificial)” color-lover. Color television can be looked for in our none too distant future, as soon as tonal values can be worked out. 123.16: “paddygoeasy:” Patagonian? (As aboriginal outlanders?) Otherwise, an insinuation from the hard-headed no-nonsense scholar just introduced that the letter, and the Book of Kells, and Ulysses, and perhaps the commentary up to now, have all been too easy-going and undisciplined in a Paddyish, Irish sort of way. 123.16-7: “quadrumane or tetrachiric:” see McHugh: perhaps referring to those “fourlegged ems” (.10) 123.20: “by Tung-Toyd:” a bit of professorial log-rolling: “Duff-Muggli” (.11) as (McHugh) Deaf-Mute, here endorsing the publication of (“Tung-Toyd”) Tongue-Tied, who in in turn is citing, presumably with approval, a “Neomugglian” publication by none other than Duff-Muggli himself or someone of his school. In “Cyclops” the English are dissed as “tonguetied;” here, their tone-deaf academics (compare Haines in Ulysses) are doing their deadening worst on a work of distinctively Irish imagination and eloquence. (The final-exam quiz of I.6, following, will be one consequence of the new regimental order being proclaimed.) 123.23: “bestteller:” The Odyssey was orally transmitted – told, by its tellers - before written down. 123.23-4: “wretched mariner:” Odysseus: commonly proposed etymologies for his name include “lament” and “bewail.” Probably overtone of “wrecked” (he was); compare (.26) “capsized.” 123.24-5: “(trianforan deffwedoff our plumsucked pattern shapekeeper):” doffing our hats at the mention of Ulysses, the man of many turns who nonetheless stuck to his guns throughout. Well-made hats keep their shape, in part because they have been “cleverly capsized” (.25), cap-sized. 123.26-9: “saucily…gander…goose:” “What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.” Gist is that Ulysses appeals to both men and women who are “game” for it – though, contrarily, a game goose can be the opposite of a wild goose. 123.26: “Round by the Tides of Jason’s Cruise:” around the time of Jesus Christ – that is, again, during the reign of Tiberius (.30). 123.27: “dodecanesian:” twelve. Joyce called the middle twelve chapters of Ulysses – the second of its three main divisions – the “Odyssey.” 123.30-1: “Tiberiast duplex:” overtone of Oedipus complex: Jesus is supplanting the pagan order of Tiberius’ reign; also see 123.35 entry. 123.34: “lit rush:” a rushlight is proverbial for dimness; here apparently equally-oppositely equated with (“our world’s oldest light” (.36)), the sun 123.35: “New Book of Morses:” the New Testament, both supplementing and supplanting the Old Testament of Moses with the “duplex” (.30-1) fact of Jesus’ life and crucifixion, the latter having occurred during the reign of Tiberius (.30-1). “Duplex” as doubling of “codex:” originally one book, scripture is now two. Also, Morse’s, because marked with pricks and gashes - dots and dashes (.17) - punched in paper. 124.1: “pierced butnot punctured:” a demi-vierge 124.3: “these paper wounds, for in type:” tradition that cuts in the Kells manuscript resemble Christ’s stigmata. 124.3: “pronged instrument:” compare 626.12-3. 124.4-5: “stop, please stop, do please stop, and O do please stop respectively:” old joke of woman being wooed and won by a man: “Stop!” “Please stop!” “Do please stop!” “O do please stop!” “O do please!” “O do!” “O!” 124.6: “circumflexuous:” as illustrated by large circumflex-shaped sign of .9 124.8: “Yard:” Harvard Yard as well as Scotland Yard: both Oliver Wendell Holmes and Sherlock Holmes 124.8: “they:” antecedent? One plausible version of this sequence is that the police – the “Yard” – did the damage and then made a show of looking for the perp. 124.9: “à grave:” “accent grave” over the a 124.9-10: “Break – fast:” echoes (or, just as likely, echoed by) ”break glass:” /”fb rok engl a ssan” (.8.9) 124.11: “plane:” a plane of glass, now broken, would be a window, recalling the window-breaking at the end of I.2, of which this scene is presumably the aftermath. 124.15-6: “underwittingly:” subconsciously 124.21-2: “more recurrent wherever the script was clear and the term terse:” shocking evidence that sex occurred at the clear and urgent prompting of the female party 124.24: “put:” the sentence’s predicate: they all put two and two together. “Grown in waterungspillfull Pratiland only” (.24-5) seems to be a (presumably familiar) advertising slogan for native-grown produce. 124.24: “dungheap:” given sexual context, perhaps a nod to Yeats’s “Love has pitched his mansion / In the place of excrement.” In any case, the anatomical proximity of the “two…selfsame spots naturally selected for her perforations” (.22-3), vagina and anus, constitutes a recurring FW proof of its Felix Culpa theme. 124.26-7: “a swarm of bisses honeyhunting after:” a play on the romantic trope of “honeyed breath,” in this case emanating, with a “sigh,” from “modest mouths.” 124.31: “fervour:” father 124.31: “of the first instant:” letter-writing formula for “this month:” compare “Circe:” “Madam, when last we had this pleasure by letter dated the sixteenth instant.” Would seem to add another permutation to “the last of the first” (111.10): the last (day? or most recent?) of this month, not necessarily January. Note “years,” three words later. 125.2-3:” “heard not a son:” heard not a sound/word 125.10: “the fair neck:” the fair sex. Oxford editors have “necks” for “neck.” 125.10-1: “Wanted for millinary servance to orderly’s person by the Totty’s Askinses:” 1. Again: during World War I, Irish men were, until almost the end) exempt from conscription; recruiting campaigns urging them to sign up were a result. 2. “Orderly” in sense of military officer’s subordinate gofer – here, it seems (millinery) in charge of hats. “Totty's:” (see “An Encounter”) a totty is a girlfriend. Possible insinuation of conshy effeminacy; hence “Formelly confounded with amother,” a mother (11). 125.12: “Maybe growing a moustache:” as camouflage from the authorities, by whom he is “Wanted.” 126.2: “callhim forth:” Jesus to Lazarus: “Come forth, Lazarus!” (In “Hades:” “And he came fifth and lost the job.”) 126.3: “echo:” Shaun, summoned to appear, as echo of Shem, just heard from at end of previous chapter 126.4: “Shaun Mac Irewick:” contrast with “Shem Macadamson” (187.34); all men are macs – sons of - Adam and Adam’s sons; Shaun’s lineage is more definitively Earwickean. 126.6: “nightly quisquiquock:” according to Google Books, radio quiz shows were around since before 1925. 126.6: “quisquiquock of the twelve apostrophes:” what came to be called the five W’s of journalism – Who? What? Where? When? Why? – began as the three W’s of Bible study: What? Why? What of it? (“Apostrophes,” as McHugh notes: apostles) 126.6-7: “twelve apostrophes:” in sense of “direct addresses to.” The chapter will have twelve direct-address questions. 126.5-6: "one hundrick and thin per storehundred:” this is confusing. Christiani notes that “storehundred” is literally “a large hundredweight,” presumably Joyce’s version of “long hundredweight,” 112 pounds as opposed to the 100 pounds of a “short hundredweight.” Joyce seems to think it’s 110 pounds. There is apparently no such unit of weight. Remotely possible: that the “per” gives us a ratio of 110/112, that is, nearly total. See note to .17: “new ton.” 126.6: “set:” as in stage set – here for a radio show 126.7: “Mic Ereweak:” representing space/vision rather than time/hearing, the Shaun character in this chapter is the weak-eared one. “Mic” may be a radio broadcaster’s “mike;” compare 54.22. 126.7-8: “He misunderstruck and aim for am ollo of number three of them:” because cursive “m” looks like “3,” sideways 126.8-9: “free natural ripostes to four of them in their own fine artful disorder:” a judgment call here, but only three of the “ripostes” – numbers one, ten, and eleven – seem relatively sprawly and “disorder”ed, unless we are to take chapter I.7 as part of the response to number twelve. Another interpretation, from E. L. Epstein: “that is, he allowed four of the answers to be in the voices of the characters the questions concerned. These four are question 4 (the Four Old men), question 6 (Kate the Slop), question 10 (Issy), and question 11 (Shaun himself).” 126.9: "fine artful disorder:" Robert Herrick, "Delight in Disorder:" A sweet disorder in the dress / Kindles in clothes a wantonness." 126.13: “nudiboots with trouters:” barefoot, wearing trousers. Also, equal-oppositely, fisherman's waders 126.13: “trouters:” fresh-water fishermen 126.14: “barely in her trickles:” barely in her twenties. Nora was twenty when she met and emigrated with Joyce. 126.14: “claud:” “cloud,” as verb. Here, on the “esker of his hooth” (.15), probably signals a cloud-capped hill; compare Yeats: “vapour-turbaned steep.” 126.15-6: “sports a chainganger’s albert:” has a watch and chain across his front the size of a chain-gang’s chain. (He’s a giant.) Several articles of men’s clothing were named after Prince Albert. Compare next entry. 126.16: “epulence:” opulence, eminence: for a man, a prominent watch-and-chain was, in cartoons and other representations of the time, a sign of prosperity. 126.16-20: “thought…horthrug:” in broad outline, recapitulates the 7-clause sequence of 3.4-14, 104.10-14 126.17: “new ton:” see note to 126.5-6. A ton is a hundred hundredweights. Adjusting from long hundredweight to short also changes a ton from 2240 pounds to 2000. Google Books gives two (and only two) entries where the latter is called a “new ton.” 126.17-8: “gave the heinousness of choice to everyknight betwixt yesterdicks and twomaries:” all his sons and daughters were given the heinous name of Joyce. 126.19-20: “sevenal successivecoloured serebanmaids on the same big white drawringroam horthrug:” see McHugh. Seven colors of the spectrum are refracted from white. Issy co-exists with seven rainbow girls. 126.20: “Willbeforce:” by force of will 126.21: “house…heather:” indoors, outdoors 126.21-2: “pumped the catholic wartrey:” as journalist-publicist, puffed the Catholic (war) party. “Puff” is longstanding journalistic slang for “promote.” 126.21-2: “pumped…shocked:” given battle-war context, these may both mean “shot.” (For “pump,” see 10.16, 135.3.) 126.22: “prodestung:” some Protestant sects believe in predestination. 126.22-3: “killed his own hungery self in anger:” Bloom in “Lestrygonians:” “A hungry man is an angry man.” 126.23-4: “allmarken rose goflooded:” Noah’s “ark” is nested in “allmarken.” Christiani, noting an echo from Ibsen: allmarken: the universal field, the world. Possible overtone of “flooding the market” (or, as in the early days of Work in Progress, German marks), in which event the father was lucky to find “fodder” for his family (.24) 126.24: “fodder for five:” HCE’s family (usually) numbers five. 126.24: “with Hirish tutores Cornish made easy:” because Cornish is similar to Gaelic. Joyce was an Irish tutor of English. “___Made Easy” was a popular self-education title, like today’s “___For Idiots.” 127.1: “toll of the road:” in I.2, HCE is introduced as a turnpike keeper. 127.1: “manyheaded:” pejorative term for the masses 127.2: “leapyourown taughter:” Issy is the leap year girl. 127.2-3: “is too funny for a fish and has too much outside for an insect:” reverse logic at work. Fish are finny (as in the much-ridiculed epithet “finny tribe”), and insects are exoskeletal. 127.4-5: “is infinite swell in unfitting induments:” if his body is endlessly swelling, no wonder his undies don’t fit. Probable sense of “swell” as dandy 127.5-6: “shoveled…arsoned…inundered…hung him out billbailey:” four ways of disposing of (or making) a corpse: buried, burnt, drowned, hung (by a bailiff). Compare Bloom in “Hades” (U 6.685-90), contemplating morticians’ options, as here according to the four elements, including one (about six months after Kitty Hawk) from a “flying machine.” 127.5: “inundered:” inundated 127.6-7: "has a quadrant in his tile to tell the Toler cad a clog it is:” quadrant and clock: space and time. Before the invention of the chronometer, sailors needed an accurate quadrant (or sextant) reading to know what time it was. 127.9: “behind the seams:” behind the scenes? 127.9: “made a fort out of his postern:” farted out of his posterior; the “F.E.R.T.” on his belt buckle (and shield (.10)) commemorates in front the feat from behind. “Buckler” probably a premonition of Buckley 127.11-2: “to the shoolbred he acts whitely:" shul, Yiddish for synagogue. The idea seems to be that as a merchant he cultivates the patronage of wealthy Jews. “Shoolbred,” I suggest, echoes Jewish “shewbread” (in Ulysses) and is in opposition to the “white” bread favored by genteel Gentiles. 127.12: “he acts whitely:” compare Bloom in “Circe:” “I treated you white.“ 127.12-13: “was evacuated at the mere appearance of three germhuns and twice besieged by a sweep:” given ("germhuns") German Huns, is probably relevant that “besieged” includes sieged, German for “conquered.” A “sweep” can be a military maneuver. Both “Huns” and “Germs” were terms of abuse for German soldiers during WW I. “Evacuated” probably means, among other things, that he shat his pants out of fright. (Compare 177.6-7.) "Three...twice:" repetition of 3-2 park motif. Originally, of course, a “german” was a relative. 127.14: “the spin of a coin:” essentially the same meaning as “coin-toss,” “toss-up” 127.15: “an eddistoon amid the lampless:” Arthur Eddington, 1920s interpreter of Einstein’s relativity theory 127.17-8: “when Dook Hookbackcrook upsits his ass:” to “sit a horse” is to ride it, something that would be difficult for the hunchbacked Richard III. Not coincidental that the best-known line of the play is “My kingdom for a horse.” Here as elsewhere, one wonders whether Joyce was familiar with “ass” as the American equivalent for “arse.” 127.20: “search a party:” search party; goes with (McHugh) “S O S”’s in “sosannsos” (.19). Compare 157.30. 127.22: “pleasure,…pleasure:” sexual gratification. Occurs in this sense in Pepys, among others 127.26: “sorrow or Sahara, oxhide or Iren:” as McHugh says, oxide of iron – that is, rust: with McHugh’s reading (I think) of “Sahara” as “red sandstone,” another red/reddish item in the catalogue 127.27: “proved:” in context, proven guilty 127.28: “endurses:” endures 127.30-1: “has a block at Morgen’s:” besides “block” as (McHugh) “customer’s mould” at a Dublin hat shot, Christiani suggests “constipated in the morning.” 127.31: “hatache:” headache. (Probably obvious.) Also, what one would have if, block or no block (see previous entry), one’s hat, purchased in the morning, turned out to be too small. 127.32-3: “walked as far as the Head where he sat in state as the Rump:” OED on “head:” a ship’s “on-board lavatory.” Compare “Cyclops” on the British: “rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the deathless gods.” 127.33-4: “Early English tracemarks:” capital E, as in "Early English," is HCE’s siglum – his trademark. 127.35: “two…three:” again, the twins’ numerical signature. 127.35: “wellworthseeing:” “well worth seeing:” a catchphrase in tourist guidebooks 127.36: “arches all portcullised:” possibly: fallen arches. Also,the point of a portcullis is to slide down and block the way. 128.1: “bells:” belles 128.2-3: “is a quercuss in the forest but plane member for Megalopolis:” is a queer cuss/quirky, like the crooked timber of some tree in the forest, before cut down and planed for the seat of a parliamentary member. (Perhaps also overtone of “circus” in “quercuss:” he’s a madcap – a clown – in the wild, plain and sober in the city, when he’s going about on public business. For the source, see this entry in Brewer, under “Knotted:” "The knotted stick is planed. The house of Orleans is worsted by that of Burgundy. The house of Orleans bore for its badge a bâton noueux, the house of Burgundy a plane; hence the French saying, ‘Le bâton noueux est plané.’" 128.4-5: “plank in our platform:” likewise, having been planed, he is now fit for being a platform’s plank: in America, the different issues addressed in a political party’s “platform” are routinely called “planks.” (One of many cases in the 126.10-139.13 sequence where an entry seems to have been prompted by one preceding it, either adjacent or nearly.) 128.4-5: “blank in our scouturn:” opposite of “blot on the ‘scutcheon.” 128.7-8: “to our dooms brought he law, our manoirs he made his vill of: ”overtones of William (“vill”) the Conqueror and his Domesday (“dooms”) Book. He brought (his idea of) law to the land, established (the Norman version of) manners and (with the French, Norman spelling) manors, either at the expense of or to the betterment of the “villains:” reminds us that the word originally meant, simply, peasant or land-dweller: the natives who were present before he showed up, when he had his will of them. 128.8-9: “overground:” evergreen 128.9-12: ”sends boys in socks acoughawhooping when he lets farth his carbonoxside and silk stockings show her shapings when he looses hose on hers:” farts on boys, wearing sock, pisses on girls. wearing stockings. “Carbonoxside:” carbon: carbine. Also, carbon monoxide is poisonous, carbon dioxide – a product of respiration, including (“acoughawhooping”) coughs, whooping or otherwise, is toxic in high concentrations. 128.11: “-oxside:” in some versions, Orion is conceived by means of pissing on an oxhide. Can’t quite see how this fits, but the pissing part seems confirmed by the continuation: "when he looses hose on hers." 128.12: “stocks dry puder for the Ill people and pinkun’s pellets:” expression: keep your (gun)powder dry. In context, “pellets” are probably bullets. Also see next entry. 128.12: “pinkun’s pellets:” 1. “Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound” was sold both in both liquid and pill form. 2. “The Pink Un,” popular name for The Sporting Times. In 1922 it published a review saying that Ulysses could “make a Hottentot sick.” See also 425.23-4 and note. 128.13: “mundyfoot to Miserius:” on Maundy Thursday, the Pope washes feet of the poor (“Miserius”). Perhaps changed to ("mundy-") Monday because that is the traditional washing day 128.17-8: “shot two queans and shook three caskles when he won his game of dwarfs:” chess, with its queen and (“caskles”) castles, a.k.a rooks - because of the small pieces, representing (mostly) people. (The “dwarfmen” of “Oxen of the Sun” – really the carved legs of a table - derive from the same idea.) 128.19-20: “manmote, befier of him, womankind, pietad:” general sense seems to be that men fear him and women pity him. 128.21-2: “chaperon of repentance on that which shed gore:”iffy, but given pairing with “crown” (.21), this could refer to a penile cap, a mushroom-shaped (315.17-8) adhesive male contraceptive. (First Google appearance: 1904.) “Shed gore:” deflowered. HCE’s contraceptive is usually presumed to be a condom, but in places (especially 567.7) a penile cap seems more likely. Because FW sex is transgressive, it doubles here with the black cap donned by judges when sentencing murderers to hang. 128.22: “pause and quies, triple bill:” tradition that expression “p’s and q’s” comes from pints and quarts chalked on tavern’s account of (unpaid) purchases 128.23: “to the finders, hail! woa, you that seek!:” “Finders, keepers, losers, weepers.” Also, overtone of “Sieg!" "Heil!” 127.23-4: “whom fillth had plenished, dearth devoured:” St. Paul on the stomach, as rendered by Chaucer’s Pardoner: “O wombe! O bely! O stinking cod, / Fulfild of donge and of corruption!” A filled belly equals filth, a belly in dearth equals death. 128.24-5: “hock is leading, cocoa comes next, emery tries for the flag:” hock-and-soda was a traditional hangover remedy, cocoa – as in Ulysses – a teetotaler’s substitute for liquor. Sense may be that he goes from overindulgence to abstinence. (Formula here sounds like a race announcer’s.) 128.26: “orchistruss:” something – truss? - that both strains and holds the (Greek orchi) testicles 128.28: “found stead:” found dead – paired with the “midwives” of birth. “Endonational:” international. (Prefix “endo” – within, containing – has opposite meaning.) 128.32-3: “to set up one all khalassal for henwives hoping to have males:” to have male children – more likely to result from intercourse with one colossally endowed man than with a multiplicity of idlers 128.34: “forbids us our trespassers as we forgate him:” as with a “No Trespassing” sign, here answered, perhaps in retaliation, by a locked gate 128.34-5: “the phoenix be his pyre, the cineres his sire:” cinders of old fire used to kindle (beget, sire) a new one 129.2: “plies:” pleads 129.3: “two psychic espousals and three desertions:” “desertions” as in breach of promise/abandonment of wife 129.3-4: “may be matter of fact now but was futter of magd then:” he’s calm and self-contained now; wasn’t when he was having sex (with Marge, Issy’s disreputable double - that or begetting her). 129.6: “tells the tailor to his tout:” says the sailor to his tot (of rum). 129.6-7: “entoutcas for a man, but bit a thimble for a maid:” again, this follows from the preceding, with its “tailor:” because it takes nine tailors to make a man, one tailor would be but a “thimble” for any woman. Tailors use thimbles, and at 38.20 a thimble-full (or teaspoon-full, or maybe tablespoon-full) is apparently the standard measure of one ejaculation. (Compare "ejoculated" of .9-10.) 129.7: “a dud letter:” the Dead Letter Office is the repository of letters that were not delivered. 129.8: “byword:” to have become a “byword” is to have developed an unsavory reputation. 128.9-10: “hatched…abrood:” hen brooding over egg before it is hatched 129.9-10: “was hatched at Cellbridge but ejoculated abroad:” likeliest candidate: Arthur Guinness, born in Celbridge, educated at the University of London. Probability of this identification is, I think, enhanced by being followed by the next entry. 129.10-1: “as it gan in the biguinnengs so wound up in a battle of Boss:” “Guinness” in “biguinnengs,” plus a bottle of Guinness’s main rival, the English Bass Ale. Also, again: a “big innings” in cricket is one in which many points are scored. 129.11-2: “Roderick, Roderick, Roderick, O, you’ve gone the way of the Danes:” You’ve got a way with the dames. “Roderick! Roderick! Roderick!” occurs in The Story and Song of Black Roderick by Dora Sigerson Shorter, daughter of Dr. Sigerson, at one time doctor to Nora Barnacle. (See 608.10 and note.) Published in 1906. Set in the Dublin area of old times, it is about a noble who marries a sweet young lady whom he doesn’t love and treats badly. Also: Roderick O’Connor died shortly after expelling the Danes, in the process no doubt killing many of them. (Then, dying himself, going “the way” of them.) 129.13: “wenches’ sandbath:” commonest meaning of “sand bath” is as a receptacle for keeping laboratory instruments at a steady temperature, but it was also a 19th century medical procedure to treat problems of the circulation. Perhaps for “wenches” because, in one 1872 article, it is recommended for menstrual ailments 129.15: “real detonation but false report:” “report” as in the sound from the “detonation” 129.18: “hands his secession to the new patricius but plumps plebmatically for the bloody old centuries:” Patricius is Latin for Patrick, here representing the new order. Lingering sympathy for “bloody old centuries:” centurions (so named, originally, because they commanded a century – hundred – of soldiers) had a reputation for being bloody – brave in battle, brutal in discipline - and unlike the patricians, they rose (“plebmatically”) through the (plebian) ranks. (“Bloody old,” like “bloody good,” can be a grudging term of affection.) Also, counterpoint between two Galenic humors, phlegm and blood 129.21-2: “shows he’s fly to both demisfairs but thries to cover up his tracers:” shows his (trouser) fly to two female members (each one, so to speak, a hemisphere) of the, as the expression goes, demimonde. A version of the park scandal. “Tracers:” aside from covering his traces, trousers 129.23: “pigeonheim:” pigeonhole 129.29: “a wassarnap:” a brief wash-up, as opposed to a full bath (.28) 129.29-30: “a good bout at stoolball:” being toilet-trained (“at stool”): That’s a good boy! Also, a good boy at school 129.31-2: “believes in everyman his own goaldkeeper and in Africa for the fullblacks:” gold-keeper: everyone’s entitled to hold on to their own property. (Same for the blacks in Africa; this may be referring to the gold mines of, in particular, South Africa, extracted but not owned by black labor.) 129.32-3: “the arc of his drive was forty full and his stumps were pulled at eighty:” your annotator is hopeless when it comes to cricket, but here is what Wikipedia says about “drive:” “A drive is a straight-batted shot, played by swinging the bat in a vertical arc through the line of the ball.” Perhaps also: the high point of his arc-ing (non-cricket) shot was forty feet. To some, dismayed by Work in Progress, the high point of Joyce’s career was the publication of Ulysses on his fortieth birthday, shortly after which the last of his teeth were extracted. 129.34-5: “Aryania:” home of Aryans: from this height the Swiss Alps look like hills. May reflect belief of Nazis and their forerunners that Aryans originated in the region of the Himalayas. 130.1-2: “light leglifters cense him souriantes from afore:” women performers in a “leg show,” for instance the can-can. They can sense him smiling, either from afar or from the front row. (Also – sorry about this – probably the scent coming from between their legs, cheering him up.) The “grommelants” are the cheap-seat customers (or perhaps groundlings) in the rear, what P. G. Wodehouse often calls the theatre’s “tough eggs,” most prone to express displeasure – perhaps here, in part, because his “hindmost” (.3), always, for HCE, exceptionally large - is blocking their view. The next two entries seem to follow suit. 130.2-3: “to his hindmost:” as in, Let the devil take the hindmost 131.3: “between youlasses and yeladst glimse of Even:” again, he’s annoyingly positioned between the lasses on the stage and the lads hoping for a (heavenly) glimpse of their wares. 130.5: “rack:” as in rack and ruin 130.6-7: “the beggars cloak them reclined about his paddystool, the whores winken him as they walk their side:” the area around Dublin’s statue of the “hugecloaked” (“Hades”) Daniel O’Connell, perched on an impressive pedestal, is a major site for Dublin’s beggars; at least in the past (see 133.9-10 and McHugh note), prostitutes frequented the adjacent quays. 130.10-11: “Gone Where Glory Waits Him (Ball, bulletist) but Not Here Yet (Maxwell, clark):” version of joke in “Hades:” “The one about the bulletin. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning. 11 p.m. (closing time). Not arrived yet. Peter.” “Ball, bulletist:” Probably the one who dispatched him with a ball/bullet from his gun. “Clark” gives the usual British pronunciation of “clerk.” James Clerk Maxwell’s discoveries made wireless communication – presumably what is going on here – possible. 130.11: “under articles:” as an apprentice 130.13: "AI an the highest:" Oxford editors recommend changing number to letter - not "AI" but "A1." Compare this excerpt from Sir Richard Paget's Babel, or the Past, Present, and Future of Human Speech, excerpted Joyce's Notebook VI.B.32.140: "The root Al, or its vowel variants El and Il...are found in many words for God or Heaven." 130.13-4: “Roh re his root:” compare “rueroot,” .15. In context, “rue,” in the sense of sorrow, seems to be sounded, as a mood swing counterpointed with “AI an the highest” (.14). 130.15: “to fall fou of:” to fall foul of 130.16: “ads ailments, das doles [compare “sas,” sows, in next entry], raps rustics, tams turmoil:” aids the sick, gives out (Latin dare) money for those on the dole, rebukes the hoi-polloi, tames civic unrest. Sounds like a benevolent despot 130.17-8: “sas seed enough for a semination but sues skivvies on the sly:” despite having sown enough semen-seed to populate half a nation, he’s still secretly chasing after female servants. 130.18-9: “learned to speak from hand to mouth till he could talk earish with his eyes shut:” probably from Marcel Jousse’s theory that gesture preceded vocalization 130.19-20: “hacked his way through hickheckhocks but hanged hishelp from there hereafters:” was able to get through the first Latin lesson – hic, haec, hoc – but got hung up, and gave up, when it came to adverbs like (Latin: post haec) “hereafter;” also, in despair either hung himself or his “help” from the rafters 130.21: “New Comyn:” Ellmann tells the story of Joyce incorporating an accidental and extraneous “Come in” into the FW text. There is no consensus on what in FW corresponds. This may be one candidate. 130.22-4: “the gleam of the glow of the shine of the sun through the dearth of the dirth on the blush of the brick of the viled ville of Barnehulme has dust turned to brown:” for “dust,” read “dusk:” the sun has set, and the bricks that were glowing red, (“blush[ing]") in the sunset light, have suddenly turned brown. Bornholm – “Barnehulme” - is a re”viled ville” (.23-4) because, as Mink notes, it was a haven for pirates. “Dirth:” dirt 130.28-30: “a namesake with an initial difference in the once kingdom of Poland:” In its history Poland has been intermittently a kingdom; the last time was 1917-1918, as a puppet state of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. See next annotation. 130.30-1: “his first’s a young rose and his second’s French-Egyptian and his whole means a slump at Christie’s:” see McHugh for how this spells out "Dublin." Also, its “namesake with an initial difference,” Lublin. Wikipedia: “until the partitions at the end of the 18th century, Lublin was a royal city of the Crown Kingdom of Poland.” 130.32-3: “forth of his pierced part came the woman of his dreams, blood thicker then water:” besides (McHugh) Adam’s rib making Eve, blood and water, in that order, from the side of Jesus, sometimes called the second Adam, pierced by a lance. “Then” does double duty as “than.” 130.34-5: “Elin’s free polt pelhaps but Hwang Chang evelytime:” with the “l”s for “r”s, stage-Chinese. “Hwang Chang” (see McHugh) is the original Chinese pronunciation of what the British, having expropriated the city, called Hong Kong, as (stage-Chinese pronunciation) free port. In effect, a caricatured Chinese is being ridiculed for properly pronouncing the name of his own city; one recalls Dickens’ Pecksniff, officiously correcting a Parisian’s pronunciation of “Paris.” 130.35-131.1: “he one was your of highbigpipey boys but fancy him as smoking fags his at time of life:” as a boy he had a high-pitched voice, but now…Also, it takes lung power to play the bagpipes. Even in Joyce’s day (from 1927 on, some cigarette brands were actually advertising – “not a cough in a carload!” – that they caused less respiratory trouble than most) it was understood that “smoking fags” was not good for the lungs. 131.2: “has a peep in his pocketbook:” see 321.26 and McHugh note: the Irish penny, with a hen on one side. Hen chicks go "peep." 131.2-3: “packetboat:” packet boat: a mail boat 131.4: “Breakfates, Lunger, Diener and Souper:” compare Lewis Carroll’s “Soup of the Evening, Beautiful Soup.” Google Books confirms that in some cultures, especially 19th century France, soup was the last meal of the day, sometimes taken before bed. 131.4-5: “as the streets were paved with cold, he felt his topperairy:” Like many other Irishmen, he left home (Tipperary) for America because he’d heard that its streets were paved with gold. “Topper:” top hat, sign of wealth (in America); in impoverished (and cold) Ireland, it’s probably that his headgear is full of holes, thus making the top of his head feel airy. (Compare the fox’s topper in Disney’s Pinocchio: a signature of the shabby-genteel.) Felt is a common material for such hats. 131.7: “hoveth:” Scandinavian for head – as in Head of Howth 131.8: “Serge Paddishaw:” Brewer on “Paduasoy:” “there was a ‘say’ or serge manufactured there [Padua] which was known as Padua say, and the name Paduasoy is due to confusion with this.” 131.8-9: “baases two mmany, outpriams al’ his parisites:”given ("outpriams") Priam, his son Paris, who certainly (French) baise-ed at least one too many women 131.11: “his sittem:” his sit, his official job 131.18: “the false hood of a spindler web chokes the cavemouth of his unsightliness": “chokes:” cloaks; “spindler:” spun from a spindle. Like a veil over his mug, it makes him look prettier than he is. 131.20-1: “arbuties…green mantle:” occurring in two items separated by a semicolon, another case of continuity: Sandy Arbuthnot is a character in the John Buchan novel Greenmantle. 131.20: “strike hands:” make a contract 131.22: “swaran foi:” FW equal-opposites: sworn foe, sworn to keep faith with us. Depending on your sympathies, the Viceroy (“vikelegal”) of Ireland could be seen either way. 131.26-9: “we darkened for you, faulterer, in the year of mourning but we’ll fidhil to the dimtwinklers when the streamy morvenlight calls up the sunbeam:” Brewer: “Morven:” “The Scottish mainland over the sound from Mull. Much mentioned in the Ossian legends.” General sense: we mourned for you during the night; at first light we will commence celebrating, for instance fiddling to the last of the dim, fast-disappearing stars. “Faulterer” is probably the fallen father. Conceit of dawn’s early light summoning the sun is a case of the post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy. 131.33-5: “the most conical hodpiece of confusianist heronim:” the most ridiculous Confucionist hairpiece: the stereotypical Chinese pigtail. See 52.24, 52.24-5, 609.4, and notes. 131.33: “conical hodpiece:” headpiece, i.e. brain. (Paired, as McHugh notes, with a (comical) codpiece. Shem and Shaun are sometimes genitalia and head, respectively.) Also, a conical hat would be a fool’s cap; a conical codpiece would be an advertisement. 131.34: chuchuffuous chinchin:” chuffy: clownish, boorish; compare (“conical”) comical (.33). “Chinchin” goes with Chinese strain in this entry, as does (see McHugh, and 108.12) “Kung” (131.35). If “heronim” includes “hair on him,” also an echo of “Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,” which was in popular circulation well before Disney’s 1933 Three Little Pigs. 131.35: “Taishantyland:” Shanty-land is the land of shanty Irish. Mink uncertainly suggests Ashanti, a kingdom in eastern Africa which, like China (and Ireland) was annexed by the British. Perhaps pertinent that 19th English caricatures of Irishmen, Africans, and African-Americans were often indistinguishable. (On the other hand, Africa has no (“kungoloo” (.35)), kangaroos.) 131.35-6: “he’s as globeful as a gasometer of lithium and luridity and he was thrice ten anular years before he wallowed round Raggiant Circos:” the planet Saturn. Its annual orbit around the sun is approximately twenty-nine and a half years. Lithium is apparently not present in any significant quantity, but: "Saturn is, in fact, about thirty per cent lighter than water, and indeed it is lighter than any known solid except the rare metal lithium. Of earth-stuff we find nothing that is so light as Saturn, not even the spongy rock called pumice which floats on water.” (Theodore Evelyn Reece Phillips and William Herbert Reece Stevenson, Splendour of the Heavens: A Popular Authoritative Astronomy, 1931, p. 360) Hence, “gasometer:” spherical, gas-filled. “Anular” surely refers to Saturn’s famous rings. (Also, of course, annual.) “Raggiant Circos” is, as McHugh notes, London’s Regent Circus, once the name of what is now Piccadilly Circus, the unofficial center of London; presumably an analogy is implied between the traffic circling it and the planets circling the sun. “Wallowed?” Saturn is, among planets, exceptionally oblate (that is, like HCE, fat) with a fairly high level, though not the highest, of orbital eccentricity; perhaps “wobble” is in the works here. (Compare “worbbling” (270, Fn. 2).) “Luridity” – pale to pale yellow – accurately describes most pictures of the planet. 131.36-132.1: “thrice ten anular years before he wallowed round Raggiant Circos:” Jesus left home at thirty. 132.4-6: “sticklered rights and lefts at Baddersdown in his hunt for the boar trwth but made his end with the modareds that came at him in Camlenstrete:” not sure how this adds up, but 1. “sticklered:” boar-hunting, done with a spear, is commonly called “pig-sticking.” 2. “boar trwth:” bare truth, with a double-u instead of a single u. 3. “came at him:” in accounts of hunts, this expression is frequently used to describe the boar’s attack. 4. In some versions Arthur, who in his youth hunted and killed the boar Twrch Trwyth (McHugh), killed and was killed by Mordred at the Battle of Camlann. 5. By Dublin standards, Camden Street is not especially twisty, but “Camlann” derives from Brittonic for crooked, bent, etc. Gist may be that he was fine in a straight-on one-and-one face-off but not against someone as duplicitous as Mordred. 132.6: “a hunnibal in exhaustive conflict:” not propitious: the initially triumphant Hannibal was eventually exhausted by Fabius’ dodges and delays. 132.7-8: “burning body to aiger air on melting mountain in wooing wave:” logical progression: burned, a body becomes rising air, chilled (French aigre) on high mountain top, whose melting snow becomes watery “wave.” 132.9-11: “he divested to save from the Mrs Drownings their rival queens while Grimshaw, Bragshaw and Renshaw made off with his storen clothes:” de-vested, i.e. undressed – in order to dive in and save someone from drowning; his (store-bought, not home-made or tailored) clothes were stolen in the process. No good deed goes unpunished. 132.12: “his threefaced stonehead was found on a whitehorse hill:” Nathaniel Hawthorne’s story “The Great Stone Face” was based on a rock formation in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. “Also, “stonehead:” Stonehenge 132.13: “the print of his costellous feet is seen in the goat’s grass-circle:” perhaps: the outline of the foundations of a now-vanished castle. “Grass circles” – patches of grass notably thicker and darker than the surrounding – are also called “fairy rings,” from the folk belief that fairies dance or once danced there. (Chaucer’s Wife of Bath: before the Christian monopoly, “Al was this land fulfild of fayerye. / The elf-queene,with hir joly compaignye, / Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede.”) Given supernatural cast, “goats” may encompass “ghost.” 132.14: “pull the blind, toll the deaf:” as in “The Sisters,” the blinds are drawn when there is a death in the house (or, in “Hades,” in the vicinity). Bell is tolling for the dead. 132.16: “haunter:” hunter 132.17: “harrier, marrier, terrier, tav:” Vico’s four-stage sequence: humanity harried into caves by thunder; humanity marrying, making families and societies; humanity buried in the earth. O Hehir has “tav” as the Gaelic for sleep or death – hence, by dream or reincarnation (or a Finnegan-style wake) a return to the beginning 132.21-2: “first he shot down Raglan Road and then he tore up Marlborough Place:” if it matters, this is next-to-impossible, if only because Marlborough Place was a (short) cul-de-sac. Still, some associative logic seems to be at work here. Although not adjoining or connecting, the two are in the same neighborhood, Ballsbridge, and about two or three (irregular) blocks apart from one another. Both Raglan and Marlborough were blue-blood generals, although one is remembered as a military genius and the other, principally responsible for the Charge of the Light Brigade, as a military incompetent. Raglan Road is in a thicket of Wellington place-names (Road, Lane, Place) along with a Willington Road (presumably after some member of the ancient English land-holding family the Willingtons of Tipperary, none of whom seems to have done anything notable; no idea whether they have to do with FW’s “Willingdone”), and a Waterloo Lane. Raglan was at Waterloo, was shot in the shoulder, and had his arm amputated. (Nothing comparable seems to have happened to Marlborough.) 132.23-4: “lurch as lout:” laugh out loud 132.24: “heloved:” beloved 132.29: “Gran Turco, orege formant:” Grand Turk Island, British possession in South Atlantic. Long shot: “orege formant,” with French orage for storm, may relate to the island’s frequent hurricanes. 132.32: “our family furbear:” fur-bearing animal, perhaps bear 132.32-3: “quary was he invincibled and cur was he burked:” “quary:” query. (The question mark is skipped.) Item answers its own question: if he was burked, he obviously wasn’t invincible. 132.33: “burked:” barked – goes with “cur” 132.34: “he took a svig at his own methyr:” he took a swing at his own mother 133.2: “Amrique:” Portuguese for America 133.6-8: “ex-gardener (Riesengebirger), fitted up with planturous existencies would make Roseoogreedy (mite’s) little hose:” a former gardener has risen in the world to the level of burgher/planter, living amidst plenty, to the point that he can ask Rosie O’Grady (apparently greedy enough to reject him when poor) to be his wife. “Roseogreedy (mite’s) little hose:” line from song: “Sweet Rosie O’Grady, my dear little Rose.” The “hose” is both her stockings – generally, in FW, fetching female apparel – and his old garden hose. (Also, of course, watering roses would be a gardener’s business.) 133.8-9: “taut sheets awash but the oil silk mack Liebsterpet aquascutum:” in stormy seas (“sheets” = ship’s lines, taut from the wind in the sails), he improvises an “aquascutum,” Latin for water-shield, out of his slicker (sailor’s oilcloth raincoat) “mack” (German mit, with? – in any case, “mack” for macintosh). No idea how a (“Liebsterpet”) lobster pot would fit in, except that they do go in the "aqua-," water 133.8: “oil silk:” according to Google Books, oil slicks became a feature of naval life in the years following WW I, when the Royal Navy changed from coal to oil. 133.9: “kay women:” prostitutes frequenting the quays 133.10-1: “sponsor to a squad of piercers, ally to a host of rawlies:” playing both sides, he befriends and promotes both the police (peelers) and the mob (rowdies). “Host” recalls Persse O’Reilly’s I.2 friend Hosty. 133.11-3: “against lightning, explosion, fire, earthquake, flood, whirlwind, burglary, third party, rot, loss of cash, loss of credit, impact of vehicles:” McHugh has “insurance;” it may help here to add that this reads like a clause in a standard insurance policy against bodily injury. 133.13-4: “can rant as grave as oxtail soup and chat as gay as porto flippant:” given context, “grave” probably encompasses gravy. For “porto flippant,” compare 468.9-10: “paltry, flappent, had serious,” where, as Ian McArthur suggests, “had” includes Latin haud, not. Given 114.25, where “portogal” appears, in a meal setting, as the Albanian word for an orange, orange flip - in Joyce’s time either a cocktail or (usually as cake) dessert. So: he can go from grave to flippant, as a dinner goes from soup to dessert and/or after-dinner drinks. 133.14-5: “is unhesitant in his unionism and yet a pigotted nationalist:” in Irish politics, a unionist favored continuing union with the UK, a nationalist the opposite. Somewhat equal-oppositely, someone in favor of organized labor is probably left of center, a bigoted nationalist probably right of center. 133.16-7: “shows the sinews of peace in his chest-o-wars:” war chest; man-o-war. Given “shows” and “sinews,” probably also military medals pinned on the chest. 133.17-8: “ninehundred and thirtunine years of copyhold:” Oxford editors have “thirtynine.” Adam lived 939 years. (Compare entry for 22-3.) Also, certainly a noteworthy coincidence - and hereby, therefore, noted - that FW’s copyright year wound up being 1939. Also, probably 939 instead of the far more common 999 in order to include the Church of England’s thirty-nine articles, in FW often associated with the Anglican HCE 133.19: “Jaynus:” Jaysus 133.20: “ruoulls in sulks:” rolls in silks, made by “Huguenots” (.21) 133.20-1: “if any popeling runs down the Huguenots:” a mild way of describing what happened in France on St. Bartholomew’s Day, 1572. As McHugh notes, “ruoulls” (.20) echoes Raoul, hero of Meyerbeer’s opera about the massacre. 133.22: “Blowcher and Supercharger:” in the inter-war years, “blower” and “supercharger” were two terms for a compressor that increased the power of an internal combustion engine. Perhaps pertinent that, at Waterloo, Blucher led a super charge. 133.22: “Monsieur Ducrow:” after the Waterloo personnel just reviewed, it seems fitting that a carrion bird – compare Stephen’s “reverend Carrion Crow,” in “Circe” – should show up on the battlefield. 133.22-3: “Mister Mudson, master gardiner:” see McHugh. Adam was the first gardener. Genesis has him made from dust, but here it’s mud, probably from continuity with the item’s Waterloo theme: the battle’s “bluddle filth” (10.8-9) was famously muddy. After the bloodletting, corpse-stripping, and bone-picking, Adam has the job of starting the round all over again, tending the soil which will become the field, etc. Reminds me of “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” 133.25: “passed for baabaa blacksheep till he grew white woo woo woolly:” reverses, or at least rearranges, the practice of racial “passing:” those of African or mixed-race origin passing for white. (First OED citation of “pass” in this sense is 1929. FW includes several instances of the theme, for instance 538.3-4.) 133.26: “drummatoysed…one shoebard:” toy drum; shoe band, with possible overtone of one-man band 133.27-8: “all fitzpatricks in his emirate remember him, the boys of wetford hail him babu:” see McHugh. He won favor with those at opposite extremes, the urban Ascendancy upper crust of Dublin and the rural rebels of Wexford. “Wetford” because fords are wet. “In his emirate:” overtone of in his eminence 133.29: “brigstoll:” borstal 133.29-30: “was given the light in drey orchafts and entumuled in threeplexes:” McHugh notes that Wellington’s birth (that is, when he first, as the expression goes, “saw the light,” with possible overtone of “shaft of light”) has been attributed to three villages; Scotland’s Saint Baldred is said to have been “buried entire” in three different locales. 133.31-2: “lebriety, frothearnity and quality:” a fraternity of drinkers, blowing the froth off their mugs of beer (compare 270.12-3) goes with the “-ebriety” – drunkenness – in “lebriety.” “Quality,” i.e. top-shelfers, means pretty much the opposite here of the “Egalité” of the French Revolution. 133.32-3: “his reverse makes a virtue of necessity while his obverse mars a mother by invention:” his two sides – back and front, head and tail (in coin language, reverse and obverse, respectively), arse and penis (ob is Latin prefix for two or toward). Arse for “necessity” as in “necessity [or necessities] of nature,” a common phrase for defecation. The penis “mars” a woman if it ("invention") plants a child in her belly, French vent (“Cyclops:” “en ventre sa mëre”) before or without marriage. (Compare 242.15, where a bride is "marrid.") The two halves of this item may impinge on each other: “Harrington’s invention” at 266.11-2 is a toilet; a man who has marred a maid by in-vent impregnation can make a virtue of necessity, make and honest woman of her, by marrying her. 133.33-5: “beskilk his gunwale and he’s the second imperial, untie points, unhook tenters and he’s lath and plaster:” Napoleon III and his Second Empire as Hans Christian Andersen’s emperor sans clothes: besilk – cover him with silk – and he looks like a second Napoleon Bonaparte; undress him and the flimsy foundations of the whole grandiose sham become all too apparent. Compare next entry - an example of two successive items being logically connected. 133.35: “calls upon Allthing when he fails to appeal to Eachovos:” compare Joyce’s mock prayer, “Oh great Something behind Everything!” Also: having fallen out of favor with the public, the head of state resorts to invoking God. 134.2-4: “laid out lashings of laveries to hunt down his family ancestors and then pled double trouble or quick quits to hush the buckers up:” he spent lavishly with Irish pounds ("laveries:" see McHugh) to trace his ancestry, then more in American “buckers” (bucks: dollars) to cover up what he’d found out about them. (Possibly the story of some well-to-do Irish-Americans.) “Laveries” may include the liveries of the servants he paid for the job. “Hush the buckers up:” Shut the fuck up, you fuckers. (“Fuckers” is close to being the U.S. equivalent of U.K. “buggers.”) “Quick quits:” quiquid – Latin for "whoever;" “quits” may be quids, yet another unit of currency. “Double trouble,” according to Google Books, is a predominantly American expression. 134.4-5: “threw pebblets for luck over one sodden shoulder:” are perhaps grains of salt, the size of miniature pebbles, thrown over the shoulder for good luck to counteract bad luck from spilling the salt in the first place. 134.5: “sodden shoulder:” perhaps echo of “summer soldier,” proverbial for a lukewarm partisan prone to drop out when the going gets tough 134.7: “ace of arts, deuce of damimonds:” again: “deuce-ace:” rolling a one and a two at dice. Like spilling salt, bad luck. Compare 71.24-5. 134.8: “cumbrum, cumbrum:” the sound of the “drum” (.8) 134.8-9: “twiniceynurseys fore…tre...uno:” 2, 4, 3, 1 134.8: “twiniceynurseys:” the 28 leap-year girls, including Issy, the 29th; as usual the two "i"s are a tip-off. Since in FW, "i"/"I") is sometimes interchangeable with "1," perhaps also (28+1+1) thirty 134.9-11: “reeled the titleroll opposite a brace of girdles in Silver on the Screen but was sequenced from the set as Crookback by the even more titulars, Rick, Dave and Barry:” he had the title role in a movie of Richard III - but was replaced, one after the other, by three performers even more entitled. (Why? For one thing, as McHugh notes, all three actors had distinguished themselves in the part. That the first of them, Burbage, was named Richard may also have helped, title-wise. On the other hand, “Rick, Dave and Barry” sound pretty close to “Tom, Dick and Harry,” as in, just anybody. Besides, as a humpbacked “Humphrey,” HCE should have been perfect for the part.) “Reeled” as in movie reel (compare 64.25-6); “set” as in movie set. “A brace of girdles:” a pair of girls – one of many versions of FW’s “sosie sesthers” (3.12) theme. Also, speaking of titles and title roles, Mrs Bracegirdle’s first name was Anne, and one of her best-known roles was as Lady Anne, in, of course, Richard III. 134.14-5: “his number in arithmosophy is the stars of the plough:” the number is seven, which, as John Eglinton says in “Scylla and Charybdis,” is “dear to the mystic mind.” “Arithmosophy” would be a mystic blend of arithmetic and theosophy. 134.15-6: “took weapon in the province of the pike and let fling his line on Eelwick:” primarily about fishing, for pikes or eels, but the pike was also a favorite weapon of Irish rebels. If the “province” is any one in particular of the four, it would be Connacht, known both for its fishing (prominent in the “Dalway” response of 140.36-141.7) and (as in the song “Hurrah for the Boys of the West!”) its rebelliousness. In fly-fishing on rivers, one "fling"s the line rather than drop it. 134.19: “softclad shellborn:” sounds like Venus in Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, sometimes jokily referred to as "Venus on the Halfshell." She is "-clad" only with her own (soft) hair. 134.23: “matchless girls:” as compared to match girls 134.27: “alloaf the wheat:” a loaf of wheat bread 134.27-8: “husband your aunt and endow your nepos:” McHugh has “grandson” for “nepos;" it can also mean “nephew,” which perhaps fits better with “aunt.” On the other hand, with “grandson,” there may be an overtone of “The Ant and the Grasshopper.” 134.28-9: “time is, an archbishopric, time was, a tradesman’s entrance:” “arch-” in “archbishopric,” counterpointed with “tradesman’s entrance,” designates the traditional ogival arch of a cathedral’s front door, as opposed to the presumably customarily rectangular door for the tradesman's rear entrance. Combines "archbishop" with "bishopric," the former designating the person, the latter the office. The "-pric" may be importing a sexual double-meaning. 134.29-30: “beckburn brooked with wath, scale scarred by scow:” long shot here: the first four words sound to me as if designating an idealizing painting of pre-Norman England rurality, the last four (with “scarred” as ruined/skewed-because-out-of-scale), a Ruskinian objurgation along the only-man-is-vile line: without that scow, the picture’s proportions, and values, would have been just right. (The language – see “Inversaid” – is perhaps Joyce’s closest approach to his fellow UCD-er Gerard Manley Hopkins, whose work he could not have not known; compare "Sprung Verse" of 293.2.) 134.31-2: “kneehighs while his meanst grass temperature marked three in the shade:” expression: kneehigh to a grasshopper. Distinctively American, as confirmed by allusion to Mark Twain. (“Mark Twain” is two fathoms, determined by a line dropped into the water; “grass temperature” is taken at the tops of grass blades.) Also, “___ in the shade:” a casual, common – and, again, mainly American – account of the temperature 134.32-3: “is the meltingpoint of snow and the bubblingplace of alcohol:” the boiling point of alcohol is 173 degrees Fahrenheit, something known to anyone operating a still, shebeen, etc. - that is, making illicit alcoholic beverages. The term “snow,” meaning morphine or heroin – later, cocaine – which has to be melted to be injected, was around in Joyce’s time. 134.33: “has a tussle with the trulls and then does himself justice:” patronizes prostitutes and then acquits himself of the crime. Compare King Lear: Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; Thou hotly lust’st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp’st her. 134.34: “Justesse:” French: Rightness 134.34-6: “hunted for by Theban recensors who sniff there’s something behind the Bug of the Deaf:” possible comment on the censors and re-censors who suspected hidden improprieties in Dubliners, which, if only because it concludes with “The Dead,” might be considered a book of the dead. (“Sniff:” they’re also censers, smelling their own scent.) Also, “deaf as a beetle.” Also, ornamental scarab beetles were inscribed with a verse from The Book of the Dead. Thebes was an Egyptian city. 135.1-2: “murry…mayds:” Joyce’s father married May Murray. 135.3: “shoeing up their hose:” putting on shoes after stockings; showing off their stockings, presumably to interested males. A common FW scenario, followed logically by the next entry 135.4: “pump gun:” pop-gun. McHugh has “pump ship” – urinate – and, with that, the co-presence of temptresses and “guards” (.3) recalls the park scandal. 135.5: “forty acres:” “forty acres and a mule” was promised to American freed slaves at the end of the Civil War. Compare next entry. 135.5-6: “white stripe, red stripe:” as in the American flag. White-red “stripes,” from floggings, were a symbol of slavery. 135.6-8: “white stripe…Sue?:” as McHugh notes, the first of these two items incorporates Eliot’s “Mrs Porter” and the second a “Mr Porter.” Another case of continuity between two adjoining entries 135.6: “annacrwatter:” includes Anna, i.e. the Liffey’s water 135.7-8: “he wanted to sit for Pimploco:” Pimloco is an upscale district in the center of London. Character in question is being asked to run for election to parliament from the district. “Pimp” suggests what such an action would require. 135.8: “Dutchlord:” probably King William III 135.10-11: “Pitre-le-Pore…Barth-the-Grete:” a partial swapping of epithets between Peter the Great and Bartholomew the Poor; London’s St. Bartholomew the Great was founded, as church and hospital, by a pilgrim ordered by the apparition of St. Bartholomew to found a hospital for the poor. 135.11-3: “he hastens towards dames troth and wedding hand like the prince of Orange and Nassau while he has trinity left behind him like Bowlbeggar Bill-the-Bustonly:” according to Ellmann, Joyce first saw Nora on Nassau Street; “troth” and “wedding hand” (by the time of this writing they had been legally married) would seem to confirm. “Hand” as in “hand in marriage:” traditionally the groom uses his right hand to put the ring on a finger of the bride’s left hand; James and Nora were presumably facing one another when they met. In this scenario, as William he has a princely future, as Bill-in-the-Bowl, a prominently Dublin mendicant, a beggarly past. (Both, however, were, in their different ways, homicides.) Probable overtone of (Dick) Whittington, who married the boss’s daughter, in “wedding hand:” the archetypal British rags-to-riches story 135.13-4: “brow of a hazelwood, pool in the dark:” 1. According to one tradition, Druim Cuill-Choille, or Hazelwood Ridge, was Dublin’s first name; “pool in the dark” is the basis of its latest. 2. It was the highest point in the vicinity. Therefore it would have been the first to catch the morning sun, as a pool would have been the last. 135.15-6: “the handwriting on his facewall:” turning one’s face to the wall was a novelistic convention for giving up the ghost. 135.19: “unguest hostel:” youth (youngest) hostel. Youth hostels were established in 1909. 135.25: “from his burst the bombolts:” from the first. “Bombolts:” bomb-balls. Compare Yeats’s “Lapis Lazuli:” “and pitch like King Billy bomb-balls in.” 135.25-6: “falchioned each flash downsaduck in the deep:” like God at the creation: he fashioned each fish (and duck) down in the sea. 135.28: “ebblanes:” airplanes 135.32: “leguminiferous:” “luminiferous…ether” (“Ithaca”) 135.32-3: “when older links lock older hearts then he’ll resemble she:” over time, married partners come to resemble one another; in general, over time male and female become less distinct from one another. 135.33-4: “can be guilt with glue and clippings:” Joyce on himself as a “scissors-and-paste man” 135.35: “the song of sparrownotes on his stave of wires:” telegraph and later telephone wires were sometimes reported to “sing,” presumably as a result of vibrating in the wind. 135.36-137.1: “is as quiet as a mursque but can be as noisy as a sonogog:” mosques in my experience are in fact quiet – prayer is silent – whereas synagogues feature chanting cantors. A son of Gog – part of the riotous giant team Gog and Magog (.18-9) – would presumably be pretty noisy. (Echo of Son of God? Or sound of gong, summoning to prayer, as in Yeats's "loud cathedral gong?" The sounds of gongs are an important feature of Buddhist gatherings.) 136.1-2: “was Dilmun when his date was palmy and Mudlin when his nut was cracked:” see McHugh for “Dilmun.” From palmy days to either crack-headedness or getting his head cracked, when his name was Mud. Dates grow on date palms and have nuts. Formula resembles that of cherry to cherry pits, roses to thorns. 136.2-3: “suck up the sease, lep laud at ease:” Oxford editors replace “laud” with “land.” So, suck up the seas, leap land at ease - a giant's agenda 136.3-4: “one lip on his lap and one cushlin his crease:” a cushion for the crack between his buttocks, opposite his lap 136.5: “broadwhite:” white bread, generally considered to be the finest 136.7: “deluded:” de-luded; robbed of joy 136.8: "leapt the Inferus:' perhaps wordplay on"Hell" in "Hellespont," swum by, among others, Leander and Byron 136.11: "Uru:" as McHugh notes, Sumerian for "city." Also, in a source identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022), the beginning of Uru-Salem, later Jerusalem. 136.12-3: “bears a raaven geulant on a field duiv:” compare 139.30: the house is white with a black door. 136.13-5: “ruz the halo off his varlet when he appeared to his shecook as Haycock, Emmet, Boaro, Osterich, Mangy, and Skunk:” compare 556.32-557.12, to some degree an echo. “Emmet” is Roger Emmet, here as his ghost scaring Kate, as it will in the later scene. “Halo off his varlet” brings in the manservant as well, by way of “No man is a hero to his valet.” Skunks can get mange. 136.15-6: “pressed the beer of aled age out of the nettles of rashness:” according to Google Books, there is or was such a thing as “nettles beer,” made from nettles and prescribed for rheumatism and other symptoms of old age. 136.17-8: “was dapifer than pancircensor then hortifex magnus:” confusing, but “pancircensor” sounds to me like an overtone of the centurion Panthera, according to a tradition beginning with Origen's Contra Celsum the father of Jesus. (The story is remembered in "Circe.") Either in the given form (see McHugh) or as an overtone of Pontifex Maximus, “hortifex magnus” can apply to Christ and/or the church founded in his name. 136.18: “topes:” topers 136.18: “tippled:” tattled 136.19: “starts our hares:” to start a hare is to flush it from its hiding place. Also, probably, hairs starting up, in fright 136.19-20: “pocketbook packetboat:” perhaps a reference to German pocket battleships, scaled-down warships in accordance with the Treaty of Versailles. A packet boat is one that makes regular deliveries, especially of mail. 136.20: “gapman gunrun:” gunrunner captain. A gunrunner supplies weapons to those out of favor with the government, for instant during the Irish Troubles. 136.20-1: “the light of other days:” title of poem by Alfred Bunn, set to music by Michael William Balfe in his opera The Maid of Artois 136.23: “doffing the gibbous:” dodging the gibbet – that is, cheating the hangman (usually, by suicide) 136.24: “all size:” assize(s) 136.26: “middlishneck aged about:" middle-aged spread; compare 491.8. 136.26: “caller herring:” “Radio Erin Calling.” Also, "caller herrings" are fresh herrings. 136.27: “see Loryon the comaleon:” 1. St. Lawrence, being roasted on a gridiron, joked, comedian-like, “Turn me over; I am well-done on this side.” 2. St. Lawrence O’Toole – cameleonlike in his policy 136.28: “loeven his loaf:” leavening his loaf (of bread) 136.29: “dafe:” along with (McHugh) deaf, daft 136.29-31: “pigeons doves be” and “ravens duv be:” “does be” and “do be” are Irish idioms, elsewhere present in FW. 136.31: “dark nets:” darkness 136.35: “moultain boultter:” moulting bolster, perhaps on Ireland’s Featherbed Mountain 136.36-137.1: “the “mountain view, some lumin pale round a lamp of succar in boinyn water:” whiskey, lemon peel, sugar, boiling water: sounds like a recipe for whiskey punch - according to the song, served at Finnegan’s wake 137.1-2: “three shots a puddy at up blup saddle:” I suggest this comes from a popular amusement-park game of the time: participants were given three balls to throw at a target; if they succeeded a man perched in a seat (or “saddle”) was dropped into a vat of water. In early 20th century America, the man was likely to be a conventional object of fun – e.g. someone black. A “paddy” (“puddy”), if properly presented with green hat and clay pipe, might have served the same purpose. “Three shots for a penny” is in the background as well. 137.2: “made up to Miss MacCormack Ni Lacarthy:” courted her. “Ni:” née 137.3: “Darly:” echo of Lord Darley, Mary Stuart’s second husband? 137.4-5: “you might find him at the Florence but Watch our for him in Wynn's Hotel:” “the,” preceding title of a hotel, usually connotes swankiness – e.g. “The Ritz.” I wonder how Dublin’s Wynn’s Hotel (a.k.a. Murphy’s) stands up in comparison. Oxford editors replace "our" with "out." 137.4-5: “once diamond cut garnet now dammat cuts groany:” perhaps obvious: because diamonds are harder than garnets. Also, compare 104.2-3: “’E’en Tho’ I Granny I a-be He would Fain Me Cuddle.” The pair is older than in the preceding item (.3), where “Darly Dermod” was “swank and swarthy.” (Other FW “gran-" combinations signify granny, grandmother.) 137.5-6: “theer’s his bow and wheer’s his leaker and heer lays his bequiet hearse, deep:” long shot: “bow,” “leaker,” and “deep” all suggest either a submerged ship or burial at sea. Echo of “Here lies” - and hearses are, of course, quiet. “Bequiet:”Be quiet (in the vicinity of a hearse); Requiat (in pacem) 137.8: “villain of the place:” expression: “villain of the piece,” for a play’s main antagonist 137.8: “Hennery Canterel – Cockran, eggotisters, limitated:” Chaucer’s Chanticleer is a cock who almost loses his life because of his ego: a fox flatters him into crowing, stretching out his neck. “Egg” in “eggotisters” goes with “Hen” in “Hennery.” Apparently the firm of Cantrell & Cochrane, which made mineral water, is, in FW, also in the egg business. (Cocks don’t lay eggs, but at 71.27 HCE is “Hatches Cocks’ Eggs.”) 137.10-11: “who guesse his title grabs his deeds:” Oxford editors have “guesses.” In most versions, Rumplestiltsksin’s name, to be guessed by the maiden of the story, describes his characteristic activity, usually some kind of rattling or noise-making. Probably also refers to Joyce’s game-playing with the real name of Work in Progress: the deed(s) of the Finn/Finns/Finnegan/Finnegans is/are to wake. 137.11: “fletch and prities, fash and chaps:” Oxford editors have “fleich” for “fletch.” Fleisch is German for meat. Along with meat and potatoes, the phrase probably implicates flash pretties/pretty flesh, paired with “fash and chaps:” fashionable chaps – all in all, attractive young males and females. Also, of course, a choice between two meals - meat and potatoes, fish and chips 137.12: “Kukkuk Kallikak:” folk-etymological tradition that “Ku Klux Klan” derives from sound of bolt-action rifle being cocked; here the Klan members, as Kallikaks (see McHugh) are hereditary degenerates. Compare the “Deadwood Dicks” in “Cyclops.” 137.12-3: “heard in camera and excruciated:” judges can both hear appeals in camera and, if dissatisfied, pass sentence – for instance crucifixion 137.14-5: “buckshotbackshattered:” includes Buckshot Foster, mentioned in “Eumaeus:” William E. Foster, Chief Secretary for Ireland until 1882, he earned the nickname by ordering troops to disperse mobs with buckshot rather than live ammunition. 137.14-6: “his father presumptively ploughed it deep an overtime and his mother as all evince must have travailed her fair share:” Genesis sentence visited on Adam and Eve – he to labor in the earth, she to bring forth in travail. Fairly obvious sexual innuendo: the father plowed her diligently at night; as a result she had many children. (Compare 549.27.) “As all evince:” as the evidence (children) shows 137.15: “as all evince;” also, at all events. (As such, pairs with “presumptively:” we presume x; in any case we’re sure of y.) 137.16-7: “a footprinse on the Megacene, hetman unwhorsed by Searingsand:” the Cenozoic Era – age of mammals - is divided into seven “-cenes,” for instance the Pleistocene. “Megacene” is an FW invention, during which one or both mammals – horse, man – has left a footprint or footprints. 137.17-8: "was dapifer then pancircensor then hortifex magnus:" he came up in the world. Joyce's Notebook Note VI.B.18.237, "dapifer," is traced by its editors to "regis dapifer," Latin for "the king's steward." 137.18-9: “reported to be friendly with the police:” not necessarily a recommendation; he may be an informer. 137.19-20: “the old stock collar is coming back:” circa 1930, the stock collar was gradually replaced by the soft collar with necktie; it has yet to make a comeback. 137.23: “aulburntress:” Nora’s hair, according to Joyce, was auburn; compare 139.23-4. 137.23-4: “when his kettle became a hearthsculdus:” when it was heated up. Caldor is Latin for heat. Also, compare Mrs Breen in “Lestrygonians: “He has me heartscalded!” 137.24: “our thorstyites set their lymphyamphyre:” Thor makes lightning bolts, therefore electricity, and amperes measure electricity. 137.24-5: “yearletter:” here and elsewhere I think there’s an allusion to the annual “Christmas letter” sent by Irish-Americans to the family back home. These letters often included money orders and/or came with gifts out of the financial range of the recipients. I think the FW letter – always among other things - is one such. 137.27: “to get the wind up:” to become nervous. Appears in “Aeolus.” 137.27: “rosin:” resin is highly combustible. Yeats concurs: “Whatever flames upon the night / Man’s own resinous hard has fed.” 137.28: “cures slavey’s scurvy:” up into the 18th century, and English “king’s touch” was supposed to cure various ailments, especially scrofula, regardless of class - it would even work on slaveys, the most menial of servants. 137.29-30: “called to sell polosh and was found later in a bedroom:” Oxford editors change “polosh” to “polish.” There are or were many off-color stories about door-to-door salesmen who wound up in bed with the lady of the house. 137.30-1: “his corn o’copious and his stacks a’rye:” both “corn” and “rye” meant whiskey – appropriate for a publican 137.31-32: “prospector…holpenstake:” a gold prospector “stakes” a claim, hoping it will pan out. 137.32: “won the freedom of new yoke for the minds of jugoslaves:” visiting celebrities were/are sometimes ceremonially awarded the “freedom of the city,” in this case New York. Also, “Yoke” derives from Latin jugum, which turns into “jugoslaves:” the freedom turns out to be just a new slave’s yoke. 137.33: “peddles:” dabbles 137.34: “gorgon of selfridgeousness:” the Gorgon rigidified people, turning them to stone. 137.34-5: “pours a laughsworth of illformation over a larmsworth of salt:” One tear (larme) might be expected to yield about a grain’s worth of salt. Possible sideways allusion to Lord Harmsworth, for Joyce (e.g. 363.5-6) a prolific source of bogus news – not information but “illformation.” Also: laughing face, crying face: emblem of the theatre 137.35-6: “half heard:” Keats: “unheard melodies” 138.1: “by his ain fireside:” sounds like Burns, but the poem “My Ain Countree” is by Mary Demarest. 138.1-2: “wondering was it hebrew set to himmeltones or the quicksilversong of qwaternions:” compare Stephen in “Circe,” speculating about whether Benedetto Marcello’s religious music may have Jewish roots. “Himmeltones:” heaven’s music. Also, quicksilver – mercury – was used to cure syphilis by inducing a high fever. (See next entry.) Fevers can be “quartan” (cf. 555.8) – recurring every four days – and Google Books kicks up some old cases of “quaternion fever.” I think the main sense of the entry is that he can’t tell whether what he hears is the music of the spheres or singing in his ears caused by the fever caused by the mercury treatments for his sins of the flesh. 138.2: "quicksilversong:" "quicksalver:" Elizabethan argot for quack. The best-known examples (see previous entry) treated venereal disease with quicksilver - mercury. 138.2-3: “troubles…doubles:” “double trouble:” an idiom around since at least 1890. See 135.2-4 and note. 138.3: “crabbed:” obstructed. "Catching a crab" means rowing clumsily so as to splash water into the boat. 138.4-6: “he stands in a lovely park, sea is not far, importunate towns of X, Y and Z are easily over reached:” compare 540.3-7 and (McHugh) the Holinshed text from which it derives. 138.7-9: “wanamade singsigns to soundsense an yit he wanna git all his flesch nuemaid motts truly prural and plusible:” a perennial issue for serious authors, perhaps Joyce above all: does he want his writing to sound good, or, in the spirit of Flaubert’s “mot juste,” does he want his words to come as close as possible to the fact of the matter? Pope, in An Essay on Criticism: “The sound should seem an echo to the sense.” On the other hand, each word, whether a neologism (“nuemaid motts:” new-made French mots), or not, should come as close as possible to the actual experiental reality: not, to cite Joyce’s example, “battlefield,” or even “bluddlefield,” but when the battle was Waterloo and the field not only bloody but muddy, “bluddle filth.” Any such literary endeavor will inevitably result in an unprecedented plurality of fresh, new-made words. The non-FW term is “hapax legomenon,” for which FW surely holds the record.) “Motts” are also young, provocative women, new-made or newly maids, many and easily pleasable. The echo of “Word was made flesh” recalls Stephen Dedalus’s 1890’s-ish rhapsodies about artists as high priests of the imagination. 138.9: “uncustomarily perfumed:” it is sometimes said of out-of-fashion plays that they are, these days, rarely performed – here, before customers. 138.10: “lusteth ath he listeth the cleah whithpeh of a themise:” speaking of sound following sense (.7): an onomatopoeic imitation of the sound of a wisp of chemise, whispering in the wind, perhaps as rendered by Sylvia Silence (61.1-10). Compare 158.6-10. 138.11: “hiberniad:” an Irish epic or, perhaps, the Irish epic: FW may qualify. (“In Scylla and Charbydis” there’s a hint that it might actually be Ulysses.) 138.11-2: “hodge to wherry him:” according to the OED, “hodge” signifies a rustic, a farmyard laborer; “wherry” as transitive verb is to row someone. 138.14-5: “casts Jacob’s arroroots…to poor waifstrays on the perish:” the citizen of “Cyclops” throws a Jacob’s biscuit box at Bloom. Also, contrariwise, an act of charity: he’s giving out biscuits (cookies) to starving waifs and strays dependent on charity. Compare next entry. 138.15: “dime after dime:” J. D. Rockefeller handed out dimes to children. 138.20: “nuasilver tongue:” as in: silver-tongued orator. O Hehir has "núe," Gaelic for new, and “Nuadha Silver-hand, king of Tuatha Dé Danann.” 138.21-2: “raised but two fingers and yet smelt it would day:” variation on testing the wind by raising a wet finger; also, “felt it (or I) would die.” 138.22-3: “for whom it is easier to found a see in Ebblannah:” Mink: “The Synod of Kells, 1152 AD, established] Armagh, Dublin, Cashel, and Tuam as the 4 ecclesiastical sees of Ire.” 138.22-4: “For whom it is easier to found a see in Ebblannah than for I or you to find a dubbeltye in Dampsterdamp:” compare 89.18-9, with McHugh note: a language guessing-game based on double meaning of letters. (E.g. coach’s slogan: “There is no ‘I’ in ‘team.’”) There is no “c” in “Ebblannah,” no double-t in “Dampsterdamp.” (Or, for that matter, no “I” or “U.”) Also, there is in fact no sea in Dublin, or in all of Ireland, and the Dutch (as in “Dutch courage:” alcohol) were once proverbial drunkards, at least to the English. So – again, see McHugh – there are no T.T.’s, teetotalers, in Amsterdam. Amsterdam, below sea level, is often damp. (Joyce visited it once, encountered a thunderstorm, ran away.) Then again, so is Eblana, Dublin, which may be why it is here spelled “Ebblannah,” which according to O Hehir incorporates Gaelic for a marsh or fen. 138.24-5: “to live with whom is a lifemayor and to know whom a liberal education:” your annotator claims no expertise in genetic scholarship, but David Hayman’s First Draft Version suggested insertion of “the toady” after “whom” and substitution of “lubberal” for “liberal” seems to make sense here: some people are inclined to toady to Lord Mayors, and HCE is more lubber (e.g. 173.8, 300 Fn. 4, 310.21, 329.11) than liberal. 138.25-6: “was dipped in Hoily Olives and chrysmed in Scent Otooles:” combines language of christening and last rites (with chrysm), at both ends of life 138.28-9: “made Man with juts that jerk:” previous item ended with “God;” now God is, as in Genesis, making Man, complete with jerking jut (OED: “a projection or protruding point.”) In the beginning was the (phallic) (s)word. Probable overtone of Creation as an act of masturbation. 138.29-30: “six acup pudding:” pudding is sometimes served in cups. 138.31-2: “from moonshine and shampaying down to clouts and pottled porter:” “moonshine” = blarney, bullshit; “sham-paying” = welshing, dud checks. For “clouts,” compare 49.25-6, where the word describes someone being kicked off the premises. Champagne and beer represent opposite extremes, status-wise: compare the American expression “champagne taste on a beer bankroll.” 138.32: “hahnreich the althe:” Bonheim has rooster-reign for “hahnreich,” which certainly seems right for Henry VIII, although he adds that Hahnrei means cuckold. (Which, at least according to Henry himself, would also apply.) “Althe:” Alte: old person 139.1-2: “went within a sheet of tissuepaper of the option of three gaols:” phrase “without the option” is short for “sentenced to jail without the option of getting off with a fine.” He missed such a sentence by the thinnest of margins. “Sheet” and “three gaols” (gales) point toward the expression “three sheets to the wind,” meaning drunk. Also, the three castles on the Dublin coat of arms. Also, scoring three goals in hockey is a hattrick. 139.4: “facing flappery like old King Cnut:” Canute faced the sea. “Flappery?” Perhaps sound of waves on shore? 139.4: "swallowship:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.18.237 includes the note "swallowtail," traced by its editors to an excerpt from “The Story of Tristram and La Belle Iseult” in Cornwall’s Wonderland by Mabel Quiller-Couch: "At the prow" of the ship bearing Tristram and Iseult "glittered a golden swallow, all set with gems." 139.7: “flaggin:”flagon 139.8-9: “blows whiskery around his summit but stehts stout upon his footles:” keeps on his feet, despite the whiskey. In general, the item may describe the common pub practice – evident in “Sirens” – of storing the popular drinks below and near at hand, the pricier items high on the shelves behind the counter. Whiskey is more expensive than stout. Also, the “whiskery around his summit” may be white hair, facial and otherwise, being likened to a snow-capped mountain; compare 578.3-4. Also, for “blows whiskery around his summit,” compare “frothblower[s]” (227.32, 270.13). 139.9: “stutters fore he falls:” compare 6.10-11. Given parallel with “waked” (.9), “falls” in sense of falls asleep 139.11-13: “and an he had the best bunbaked bricks in bould Babylon for his pitching plays he’d be lost for the want of his wan wubblin wall?:” doubly double-negatively plexed riff on “For want of a nail the shoe was lost,” etc. – in this case a brick in a wall (compare 5.26) rather than a nail. “An:” archaic word for “if.” “Bould Babylon” sounds the once-ubiquitous phrase “old Babylon,” and, for extra measure, spells “old,” also archaically, as “ould.” Bricks are baked; kitchen place (“pitching plays”) goes with buns, here baked in a brick oven. (The "missfired brick" of 5.26, fired incorrectly, cracked or crumbled, causing Finnegan's fall.) “Wubblin wall:” Dublin, wobbling; the wall is presumably Humpty Dumpty’s. (O Hehir has “wubblin wall” as derived from Gaelic term for “wall liable to collapse.”) Oxford editors have “pitchingplays,” “lost” for “lost.” 139.15: “Does your mutter know your mike?:” “Does your mother know you’re out?” was a popular putdown; among other places it occurs in Gilbert and Sullivan’s Iolanthe. Also, compare 54.22, where “at the mike” indicates someone talking into a microphone. 139.16: “suchurban:” suburban: Chapelizod is a suburb of Dublin. 139.18: “with his dam:” compare expression “the devil and his dam,” “dam” being his wife. 139.19: “grig:” irritate, annoy 139.21: “dirckle-me-ondenees:” Ondine/Undine: female water spirit. See 547.8, where “Undine” doubles with undies - underwear. 139.23: “fane:” fain (to flirt) 139.23-4: “her auburnt streams:” Joyce romanticized Nora’s auburn hair. 139.24: “dabblin:” besides dabbling (and Dublin and doubling) perhaps dapping – dipping “lightly or suddenly into water” (OED). Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.” 139.25: "drench his dreams:" as in a wet dream. The phrase occurs in "Circe." 139.29-30: “Tic for Teac:” tea for two 139.30: “painted witt wheth one darkness:” Mullingar House, painted white with dark-painted front door. 139.34: “Haraldsby, grocer:” the Mullingar would have also served as a grocery store. See note to 78.12-3. 139.34: Vatandcan, vintner:” some alcoholic beverages are stored in vats and served in what were called cans. 139.35: “Knox-atta-Belle:”two ways of announcing one’s present at a door:” knocking and ringing the doorbell 139.34-5 “Houseboat and Hive:” parody of popular pub names such as. “Goat and Compasses” (275.16) 139.36: “Ebblawn Downes:” in the sense of (OED) “an open expanse of elevated land…serving chiefly for pasturage,” goes with “-lawn” in “Ebblawn.” Mink has “Epson Downs.” 140.1: “Lea:” in sense of meadow, follows from previous lawn and downs 140.3: “Smug:” snug: favorite spot in a pub 140.6: “hits:” it’s 140.8: “capitol:” unlike Rome, Washington, and some other capital cities, Dublin has no capitol building. 140.9: “ah dust oh:” alpha to omega. A frequent FW occurrence. Here, also compresses "ashes to ashes, dust to dust." 140.10: “boost:” as in local booster, the spirit of this passage throughout. All four claims of this segment (.8-14), though not absurd – O’Connell Street really is “expansive”ly wide, for instance – are boosterish exaggerations. 140.15: “gould:” guild, i.e. union 140.16-7: “the ribs of yer resistance:” female corsets covered the ribcage. “Yer” is Ulster dialect. 140.17: “tenderbolts:” I haven’t been able to discover what it does exactly, but a bolt-tender is a device involved in the manufacture of heavy machinery. 140.18: “destraction:” destruction 140.20: “conny:” canny (McHugh): as in “Lestrygonians,” an epithet for Scotsmen, thus apt for Ulster, with its large number of Scots settlers 140.22: “chimes:” the same chimes referred to in “The Bells of Shandon,” source of 139.16-28, celebrating Cork 140.23-27: “my plovery soft accent…soapstone of silvry speech:” much of this refers to the Blarney Stone, located in County Cork, and in general the region’s reputation for mellifluousness. “Soft…soapstone:” soft soap, an expression for dubious old smoothies. (The Blarney Stone is limestone.) John Kelleher once told me that Corkonians had a reputation for being, as he put it, “cute,” an assessment confirmed elsewhere in FW. (Compare 95.11 and note, 197.5, 254.30 and note, 305 Fn. 3 and note, 528.31 and note.) “Plovery:” in “Lestrygonians” Molly’s breasts are described as “plovers on toast:” that is, soft, plump, tasty. 140.26: “your mouth’s flower rose:” as smooth-talking masher, he is, tritely enough, comparing her lips to roses. 140.29: “brooklined Georgian mansion’s lawn:” although many Irish, seeking to make their fortunes, wound up in New York’s Brooklyn, its Dutch original Breukelen seems a presence as well: according to Wikipedia, “many wealthy Amsterdam merchant families built their mansions along the river near Bruekelen.” On the other hand, “mills’ money,” soybeans” (.28), “Atlanta,” and “Oconee” all strike American notes. 140.31-2: “Irish in my east hand and a James’s Gate in my west:” Irish whiskey on one side, Guinness on the other; compare “Finnegan’s Wake:” “A bottle of whiskey at his feet and a gallon of porter at his head.” 140.32-3: “after all the errears and erroriboose of combarative embottled history:” which led to his days, now mercifully past, of going astray and falling into arrears because of excessive drinking 141.1: “trotty:” trout, trotter: Connacht, at least in FW, is the most outdoorsy of the provinces – the place for fishing and horse-riding. 141.2-3: “Holy eel:” holy oil 141.3: “Rodiron’s:” Rhode Island? Smallest state in the U.S. – in fact smaller than Connacht. (Or Connecticut.) Not really an island. (Named after Rhodes, which was sometimes called “Rhode Island.”) “Rod” presumably has to do with “fishing rod,” probably also with phallus: all four sections of question number 4 have had to do with courtship and marriage; this one accounts for the consummation. 141.4: “leppin:” French lapin: rabbit – well before Hugh Hefner, a sign of libido, both male and female 141.4-7: “a bell…Aequallllllllllll!:” From Google: “A finger rhyme for young children. Widespread throughout the English-speaking world. Fold hands together so that fingers are hidden inside, with thumbs pressed together and pointing straight up. Here is the church Raise index fingers and put tips together to form a tall triangle. Here is the steeple. Separate thumbs. Open the doors, Turn figure ‘inside out,’ to reveal ten fingers interlaced and wriggling. And there's all the people!” 141.8-9: “retten smuttyflesks, emptout old mans:” Bonheim and Christiani have “retten smuttyflesks” as: save dirty bottles. “Old mans:” “dead men,” a. k. a. empty bottles. The job of emptying them out for future use makes him a bottlewasher (the term appears in “Wandering Rocks”), a lowly pub job. 141.9-10: “scareoff jackinjills fra tiddle anding:” scares courting couples, titillating one another with their canoodling, from the premises 141.11: “sprink dirted water:” sprinkles water to lay the dust, turning it into dirt 141.11-2: “newses, tobaggon and sweeds:” see McHugh: standard kiosk fare. Would a house like the Mullingar have a separate room or section for the selling of such items? (Many hotels today do.) Also, a manservant’s first duty of the day: to lay out the (ironed) newspaper, tobacco, and tweed garments for his master, just waking up. 141.12-3: “louden on the kirkpeal, foottreats given to malafides:” is the pub’s bouncer and as such kicks out malefactors and bad-faith welshers. Also, many help-for-hire ads of the time specified that inquirers be pious and orthodox. In that line, he’s expected to play the church organ on Sundays and, when necessary, increase its volume by pressing heavily on the foot-pedal, drowning out “malafides” when they seem to be getting out of hand. In both cases, he repels undesirables by way of his foot. In my experience, church organists typically come on strong at the finale. 141.13-4: “outshriek hyelp hyelp nor his hair efter buggelawrs:” at this point, Oxford editors insert “inhome daymon, outhouse diuell, might.” All OED entries for “divel” or “divell” are from the 17th century, so the “u” here may be an archaic version of “v.” “Divel” is often a term of affection in Scotland and Ireland. Here, it seems to have the meaning of (e.g. printer’s devil) a lowly assistant in charge of some specific task, such as tending to the pub’s privy. (See 319.23, 556.27-8; if, indoors, Kate is in charge of the chamber pots (see 142.5), Sackerson deals with their destination.) Also, “diuell” pairs with “daymon” as daemon (individual’s genius) and demon. Other permutations: “Daymon” is Monday with the syllables reversed; “dieull” incorporates French Dieu, for God. Compare indictment of Bloom in “Circe:” “Street angel and house devil;” this seems to reverse the order. 141.14: “underhold three barnets:” according to Christiani, Danish underholde includes “support” in sense of supporting children; since by most counts the household has three children, this may be a hint that he’s the real father. (McGrath, never actually present on the FW page, is the usual suspect, begging the question of what if any is the nature of the two mens’ relationship.) 141.14: “putzpolish crotty bottes:” one thing reasonably clear about Sackerson is that he’s responsible for cleaning and polishing the boots (here, dung-covered) of overnight guests. Until fairly recently, footwear was often left outside of hotel doors, to be cared for overnight by the establishment’s “boots.” 141.15: “nightcoover all fireglims:” another servant’s job: banking room fires for the night. (At dawn, he will be the one who has "godden up...to litanate" the hearth fires (593.7-8), re-kindle them from the banked embers.) Also, echo of curfew, ME “coeverfu,” cover-fire 141.18: “X.W.C.A. or:” “X” a symbol for Christ. Oxford editors have “on” for “or.” 141.18: “Z.W.C.U.:” perhaps approximation of W.C.T.U., Women’s Christian Temperance Union; would go with ban on professional drinker/drunk (.24). 141.18-9: “Baywindaws Bros swobber preferred. Walther:” Oxford editors replace the period with a comma. Whether or not hired help will wash windows is sometimes a sticking point. (Because – please excuse the obvious – windows have two sides, one of which, outside, may present problems of access and safety – especially, one would expect, if it were a ("Baywindaws") bay window.) One imagines a bay window as being especially difficult to clean. 141.19-20: “Walther Clausetter’s and Sons with the H.E.C. Chimneys’ Company to not skreve:” McHugh: “to not skreve” means "don't bother to apply." There is no need for plumbers (evidently, the house lacks a W.C.) or chimney sweeps 141.20: “Chimneys’:” Chimpden, HCE’s middle name 141.21: “must begripe fullstandingly irers langurge:” as bouncer, must be able to choke off any insulting trouble-maker. Equally-oppositely, use of Irish language will be begrudged: again, the institution is Protestant: one reason the twelve "Sullivans" patronizing the pub can often seem menacing. 141.23: “outings fived:” hired-help ads sometimes specified that the job comes with “outings,” as in Cook’s night out. (Also, the phrases “fixed outings” and “outings fixed,” meaning appointed excursions, were in circulation.) Five outings a year would be pretty paltry. 141.24: “profusional drinklords to please obstain:” compare “Circe:” “Bumboosers, save your stamps.” The evidence is clear that, in the manservant, they got the opposite of what they advertised for. 141.30: “sales of Cloth:” dirty clothes. Sale is French for dirty. 141.31: “bringing in all the claub of the porks:” he’s tracked in all the clauber from the park, leaving it to her to clean up the floor. (“Clauber” = mud; compare “Scylla and Charydis:” “his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests.”) 141.32: “I knew his stain on the flower:” I knew his stain on the floor. Oxford editors have “arthurgruff stain on the flowers of the liloleum.” The floor is linoleum (compare 391.21), and she recognizes his stain on it as surely as if it were his autograph. Probably the most famous flower stain is “AI AI,” on the hyacinth, named for Apollo’s dead lover. 141.32-3: “if me ask and can could speak:” if my ashcan could speak. Oxford editors change “me” to “my.” 141.34: “honeysugger:” He called me his honey-sugar. (Compare 615.24.) Bees are honey-suckers. (Also - .31 – source of beeswax.) 141.34: “phwhtphwht:” sound of contemptuous dismissal – an elaborate “Pshaw!” 141.34: “dandleass:” handglass. Seven years’ bad luck 141.36-142.1: “I heard the grackles:” appearance of grackles is supposed to forecast bad luck. 142.1: “and I skimming the crock:” servants were sometimes known to steal from the pantry and sell to outsiders. (An example appears in Great Expectations, chapter 23.) Here, the stolen material is apparently butter. 142.4: “stale:” as a noun, “stale” means “urine.” Is now restricted to horses and cattle, but earlier could include other animals. 142.5: “chump:” chop; see 141.31. 142.8-11: “the doorboy, the cleaner, the sojer, the crook, the squeezer, the lounger, the curman, the tourabout, the mussroomsniffer, the bleakablue tramp, the funpowtherplother, the christymansboxer:” the twelve months in order, as follows: 1. “the doorboy:” see McHugh: January, from Janus. (Also, Porter.) 2. “the cleaner” February, from (McHugh) Februarius, the cleansing month. 3. “the sojer:” March, the soldier, named after Mars, the god of war. 4. “the crook:” April, pastoral month of lambs, with their shepherds, with their crooks. 5. “the squeezer:” the lusty month of May. (Joyce originally had “the courter.”) The month for courtship, including hugging and squeezing. Compare 376.21, 512.6, 531.12-3. 6. “the lounger:” June. First of the summer months, a time to relax. in Britain and America, many take breaks from work or school in June, and the UK Summer term has a “Half Term Break” extending through the first week of June. 7. “the curman:” as McHugh says, the “dog-days of July.” (Joyce originally had “kenneler.”) 8. “the tourabout:” August. (Joyce originally had “tourist.”) McHugh: “touring, holiday month.” 9. “mussroomsniffer:” September. (Joyce originally had “harvest.”) McHugh has it as the “peak time for mushrooms;” probably also pertinent that it is the beginning of the season for white truffles, as sniffed out by pigs. 10. “the bleakablue tramp:” October. October includes All-Hallows Eve, when the ghosts and other spirits of the night go walking (that is, tramping), and the nights have become conspicuously longer than the days, especially in northern countries (like Ireland) with Daylight Savings Time (like Ireland). For “blue”-“black” connoting darkness, see 398.34, 405.10. 11. “funpowtherplother:” November. McHugh: month of Guy Fawkes bonfires, commemorating the Gunpowder Plot. 12. “christymansboxer:” again, McHugh: December: Christmas, followed by Boxing Day. 142.12-6: “prés salés…Baldoygle:” for the number of specified locations to add up to twelve – thus, space-wise, matching the twelve time-dividing months of .8-.11 - “prés salés” needs to be included. McHugh identifies it as “the marshy ground at Booterstown,” which Mink locates in “SE Dub[lin].” Mink describes the twelve as a “list of suburbs” that “encircles Dub[lin] from SE to SW to NW to NE; the first 5 [with Booterstown added, the number totals six] S of the Liffey, the last 6 N of the Liffey.” 142.14: “champ:” boosterish slang for champion 142.15: “Raheny and their fails:” echo of rainfall – which, to be sure, would happen equally to all the areas listed. (Perhaps pertinent that Raheny is on the Santry River, whose course includes a number of “falls,” although as best I can determine none of them is in Raheny itself.) 142.16: “latecomers all the year’s round by anticipation:” bonafides: deliberately, perennial latecomers after closing hours. (In FW, the twelve customers) 142.20: “crunch the crusts of comfort:” crust as crumbs, leftovers – token of poverty 142.20: “depredation:” deprivation 142.22: “condam any good to its own gratification:” that is, taking literally the saying “Virtue is its own reward.” 142.35: “for lorn:” forlorn 142.31-5: “They wore loving…seeking:” as McHugh notes, this is “a ‘word-ladder:’ string of words each differing by 1 letter from the next.” Epstein adds that the exercise originated with Lewis Carroll. The subject here is the (Issy-ish, Alice-like) leap-year girls, addressed as “maggies” (.30). The number of words here is 14 rather than the usual 28, probably because Maggie, Issy’s looking-glass double, is half of the usual duo. 142.35: “in lore of love:” basically, the rules of courtly love, pretty much condemning anyone who plays by them to the fate summarized in 142.31-143.2 143.1: “cometh elope year, coach and four:” leap years, traditionally allowing the woman to propose, are one in four. (Joyce and Nora eloped in one such, 1904.) Possible echo of Cometh Up as a Flower, a sentimental novel by Rhoda Broughton, with a title from the Bible. I haven't read it, but in P.G. Wodehouse’s Bertie-and-Jeeves novels, the character Rosie M. Banks, whose specialty is writing novels in which women of humble origins win the devotion of peers, is clearly the model. The D.B. Murphy of “Eumaeus” is a fan of her Red As a Rose Is She. A “coach and four,” in such novels, would have signified wealth, probably as a result of (female, chaste) virtue rewarded. 143.3-4: “Now, to be on anew and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech:” expression: flowers of speech, flowers of rhetoric: heavily figurative language. The last entry was notably lacking in such. (Although the flower strain – “rose,” and, again, Cometh Up as Flower, “picks” - was emerging near its end, and the leap year girls are elsewhere a “garland” (226.23).) Flowers have smells – “-aroma” - and, creatures of sunlight, might be said to “bask” in it. “To be” is from Hamlet, mentioned at .7 - an example of poetic language. “New” and “panaroma” may signal Constantinople – Nova Roma (155.5-6) – but I can’t see the application. “Roma” is also the language of gypsies. 143.3: “basking again:” asking again – that is, posing the next question 143.6: “sleepish feet:” foot has “fallen asleep” (compare 429.14) – a likely enough occurrence for some desk job office worker “duly fatigued by his dayety in the sooty” (.4-5), by his day working in the city. 143.6-7: “behind the dreams of accuracy as any camelot prince of dinmurk:” perhaps obvious: sleepily enveloped by din, dimness, and murk, accuracy is out of the question. 143.8: “futule preteriting:” “preterite,” theologically, describes one who is not of the elect to be saved by God. (Compare .10 and second note.) In this sense, “futule” probably includes “futile.” Also, future predicate 143.8-9: “suspensive exanimation:” the phrase “suspended animation” (in McHugh) most often occurs in accounts of hibernation. At times (for instance 316.15-6) FW’s sleeper, the subject of this question-and-answer, seems to be an example. I speculate that Joyce’s birth date of February 2, Groundhog Day in the U.S. and the date of similar observances in various places in Europe, may be part of the reason. 143.9: “noodle:” a silly, foolish person 143.9-10: “earsighted view:” sleepers can hear, not see: at the beginning of II.3, the FW sleeper is catalogued as an electronic apparatus of ears, brain, brain, heart, veins - but not eyes. (Even when awake, he is notably "[n]earsighted." His nonce-name, "Earwicker," can be translated as "Alert ear." 143.10: “hopeinhaven:” the hope in heaven denied to the preterite. “Copenhagen” may go with Hamlet, the Dane. 143.11: “whights:” wights: Elizabethan English for “persons” 143.11: “whights and ways:” whys and wherefores, in reverse order 143.12: “the course of his story:” the curse of history – Stephen Dedalus’s “nightmare” 143.13: “reverberration:” a riverbero, which Hart says is Italian for a concave mirror. Haven’t been able to confirm, but I have found it listed as Italian for “reflection,” “reverberation,” “afterglow,” and, as lampada a riverbero, a lamp or light backed by a reflector. Such reflectors, as the OED records, are typically concave, in order to bring the reflected light to a point of focus - which may be what Hart had in mind. In Portrait, Stephen compares the dean of studies’ mind to “a reflector hung in false focus.” I realize I’m on the verge of writing an essay here, but this does seem to me one of the most prolifically meaningful words in the book. Also, of course, it echoes “riverrun” (and see note to .18-27, below). 143.13: “reconjungation of nodebinding eyes:” overtones of “conjugal” and “tying the knot” (with a coincidence-of-contraries echo of “nonbinding,” to be confirmed by overtones of “dissolute” and “dissolution” in the following “redissolusingness:” having re-married, they will then re-split) – as McHugh says, the second stage of the Viconian cycle. Young – “-jung-” – lovers, looking into one another’s eyes. “Ayes:” The “I do”’s of the wedding ceremony. 143.13-4: “the reconjungation of nodebinding ayes:” parallax – what our two eyes routinely do 143.16: “comeliewithhers:” come lie with her 143.18-27: “how…all?:" although not – I think – complete and in the exact order, the sequence here approximates that of 3.4-14: mating, brother-battle, young female temptress, displacement of old by new/young, two rival women, flood, dispersion, rainbow. 143.18: “what is main:” what it means 143.18-9: “how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings:” sexual innuendo, probably referring to wedding night: “meet” (meat, mate), “tother” (O Hehir: Gaelic “toth:” “fem. generative organs”) “wants poignings” (poignant (piercing) poniards) 143.19-20: “foles falling:” foals being dropped from their mothers. Also perhaps, foliage – leaves (“folio” is Latin for “leaf”) – falling in autumn, counterpointing the ("sap rising" (.20)) rising sap of spring 143.24-5: “what roserude and oragious:” what, when it rose, was rose-red. rude, and outrageous. In “Penelope” Molly remembers Boylan’s erection as his “big red brute of a thing.” 143.25: “greem:” grim. Also Grimm, to go with Snow White and Rose Red (“beautiful pales…roserude” (.24-5)) 143.26: “fargazer:” as opposed to near-sighted: far-sighted, like Joyce 143.29: “yurning:” inclusion of “urn,” traditional repository for ashes of the dead, goes with love-as-fire conceit of .29-30. 143.29-33: “bitter’s…sour…sweet:” three of the four basic taste categories recognized in Joyce’s time. (The fourth, “salty,” seems to be missing.) 143.30: “drawes:” as in a fireplace’s fire “drawing.” Hence .32-3: “But mind the wind, sweet!” 143.30: “dothe:” to the 143.31-148.32: “I know…Laughs!:” much of this is addressed to Marge, Issy’s looking-glass double/reflection (so that, for instance, she is “achamed of me,” not you, for gnawing “your nails” (.34-5) as overheard and transposed by the dreamer. (It is your annotator's that the chimney, linking fireplaces in both rooms, is the sound’s means of transmission.) 143.35-6: “I’ll nudge you in a minute!:” I’d know you in a minute. 143.36: “Perisian smear:” Persian, plus “peri,” as in Thomas Moore’s “Paradise and the Peri,” mentioned in “Lotus-Eaters.” According to OED, the original meaning of “smear” included “ointment” – if from Paris, something one might find on a dressing table. 144.6: “blackleaded chest:” blacklead: graphite – here, apparently the team’s name (“Clancarthy:” McHugh) written across the front of his jersey; may go with “carbon” sounded in “Clancarbry” (.5) 144.7: “that you, Innkipper,:” apparently the amateur footballer has been recognized as the local inn-keeper. Oxford editors replace the second comma with a question mark. 144.9: “just becups they won the egg and spoon there so ovally provincial:” eggs and (see McHugh) racecourses are both oval. An egg and spoon race, in which contestants try to outrun one another while holding a spoon holding an egg, were/are popular at village fairs as well as other "provincial" entertainments. 144.10: “Eilish assent:” Irish accent, English Ascendancy 144.11: “he is seeking an opening:” probably a sexual innuendo, in keeping with much of what follows: “Leg me pull” (Let me pull, as in pull off (.18)) and “Come big” (the sexual sense of “come:” appears in Ulysses (.13)), “sighs in shockings” (.21: Joyce anticipates Cole Porter’s rhyming of “glimpse of stocking” with “something shocking”), “wandering about my trousseaurs” (.22), “rubberend Mr Polkingtone” (.30), “the quonian fleshmonger who Mother Browne solicited me for unlawful converse with” ((.31): Mrs. Brown is the main procuratress of Fanny Hill. Again, at least some of this results from the listener’s projections. 144.14: “turkish:” as in Turkish Delight, in the box of candies. The real Turkish delight, of course, would be a harem. 144.15-6: “the chocolate with a soul:” Life Savers, “the candy with a hole,” introduced in 1912 144.24: “shoeweek will be trotting back:” Horse Show (Shoe) Week, held in Dublin at the end of August 144.25: “moon…fool:” full moon 144.26: “cabbage head:” “cabbagehead:” fool, dullard – here presumably because of some fashion faux pas. Can probably be read as an appositive to “fool,” minus the usual commas because of Issy’s run-on delivery (and because Joyce doesn’t much like commas) 144.27: “snappy new girters:” snapping the garter, as in “Sirens” 144.30-1: "the rubberend Mr Polkingtone, the quonian fleshmonger:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.133 has this excerpt from Laetitia Pilkington's Memoirs: "Thus may one see how early Priestcraft began; from the very first, they were fleshmongers, and Priests of all Religions are the same." Although the context makes clear that "fleshmongers" here means butchers, the second and third definitions listed in the OED, fornicators and procurators, are also relevant to the FW passage. "Polkingtone," aside from alluding to Pilkington, is a fairly obvious sexual innuendo; as for procuring, see next entry. The OED dates "rubber" as meaning a rubber condom from 1913. 144.30-1: the quonian fleshmonger who Mother Browne solicited me:" as McHugh notes, a procurer - specifically, the "Mother Brown" of Laetitia Pilkington's Memoirs. (See previous entry.) Coincidentally or not, also the madam in John Cleland's Fanny Hill. Also remembered in Dickens' Dombey and Son as the mother of a fallen woman, with occulted allusion to the Cleland original 144.34: “poo tickly:” particularly 144.35: “Funny spot to have a fingey!:” describing either penis or clitoris: the speaker is just discovering sex and applying the so-far available terminology: she knew about fingers, not, goodness me, about this stuff. 145.1: “seenso tutu:” sans toto: without everything. “All the world’s a stage” soliloquy in As You Like It ends with the words “sans everything.” 145.2: “by your cut:” by the cut of your jib – your bearing 145.2-5: “cut…glass…stomewhere…fired:” cut glass stemware, fired in a kiln: an example of what I’ve earlier called an FW “cluster:” they go together, but, aside perhaps as a scattery class (“glass”) signifier – Waterford Crystal, an Irish luxury product, sometimes on display as a status symbol and, as such, here resented and mocked by the speaker – I don’t see what they’re doing in one another’s company. (Still, Maggy is the lower-order looking-glass girl, and her interchanges with Issy often involve comparisons of their social standings.) 145.3-4: “jumps in her stomewhere:” a jumping in her stomach would indicate pregnancy. John the Baptist “leaped” in the womb of Elizabeth when she was visited by Mary. 145.5: “a barren ewe:” from Memoirs of Mrs Letitia Pilkington, 1712-1750, Written by Herrself, excerpted in Joyce’s Notebook VI.B.45: “how cruel all barren creatures naturally are, insomuch that I have seen a barren ewe attempt to kill a young lamb.” 145.5: “Tay for thee:” I read this as one girl mocking the other for trying to play the lady, offering her tea in a high-flown way; the Irish-accented "Tay" undercuts her pretensions. Compare next entry. 145.8-10: “Of course I know, pettest, you’re so learningful and considerate in yourself, so friend of vegetables, cat you!:” more class-based sarcasm, breaking down at the end into out-and-out hostility: you cat! “Cat” would be a typical woman-to-woman insult. “So friend of:” no friend of. Cats don’t like vegetables. (McHugh has “so fond of,” which would continue the sarcastic strain. On the other, equal-opposites, hand, compare 476.17: “no friend of carrots,” which in that case means that the ass likes to eat carrots.) One of several FW scenes in which Issy is treating her cat like one of her dolls 145.10: “Please by acquiester to meek my acquointance:” more sarcastic mockery of the other’s airs. “-quoint-:” quainte: cunt 145.10-11: “Codling, snakelet, iciclist! My diaper has more life to it!:” all disparaging comments – or taken as such, by the sexually-preoccupied listener - on the male’s detumescently diminutive penis. (Again – see 134.35 and note – may actually, or also, be the clitoris.) 145.14-5: “Yes, the buttercups told me, hug me, damn it all, and I’ll kiss you back to life:” tradition: hold a buttercup under your chin; if light reflects on chin’s underside you’re in love. Also, orally stimulating an erection 145.15: “my peachest:” “Peach” is or was a term of endearment, “peachy” of enthusiastic approval. 145.16: “meddlar:” a medlar is a kind of apple. And, yet again, OED says it’s slang for “cunt.” (What isn’t?) See next. “Fig:” given the context, probably also means “cunt.” “Meddlar” given two d’s to incorporate “meddler.” 145.16: “contempt of courting:" contempt of court 145.17-8: “That I chid you, sweet sir? You know I’m tender by my eye. Can’t you read by dazzling ones through me true?:” That is, can’t you see through my little putting-off ploys? 145.17: “sweet sir:” perhaps “sister” is behind this. 145.19: "drink my tears:" Sidney, Astrophel and Stella, LXX: "She oft hath drunke my teares." 145.21: “Transname me loveliness, now and here me for all times:” she wants him to do for her what Dante did for Beatrice: immortalize her name, always to be synonymous with love and loveliness. (Shakespeare, although he famously named no names, promises the same in his sonnets; he will put in an appearance at .24.) 145.22-3: “that beggar of a boots at the Post:” “Aeolus:” “Under the porch of the general post office shoeblacks called and polished.” In “Penelope,” Molly remembers one such bootblack looking up her skirts – enough to put him in “Ithaca”’s spurious list of her lovers. 145.24-9: "Ah, did you speak, stuffstuff? More poestries from Chickspeer’s with gleechoreal music or a jaculation from the garden of the soul. Of I be leib in the immoralities? O, you mean the strangle for love and the sowiveall of the prettiest? Yep, we open hap coseries in the home. And once upon a week I improve on myself I’m so keen on that New Free Woman with novel inside:” affirmations of intellectual/social/moral respectability: parlor “causeries” about serious subjects of the day (Darwin, the immortality of the soul), and “improving” literature. Compare next entry. Also, as McHugh notes, New Free Woman serialized Joyce’s Portrait, which begins with the words “Once upon a.” 145.25: “jaculation:” aside from the obvious, the word “ejaculation” was often used to denote fervent prayers. 145.30: “Man in a Surplus:” “surplus man:” a contemporary term for an able-bodied man made economically superfluous by modernization – another topic for serious, improving discussions and articles. Also, a man in a surplice would be a priest. 145.31: “as pie as is possible:” popular expression: as easy as pie. “Easy” as sexually compliant – e.g. “lady of easy virtue” – has been current for centuries. 145.31-2: “Let’s root out Brimstoker and give him the thrall of our lives. It’s Dracula’s nightout:” possible source: “putting the devil in hell” story from the Decameron: devil = erection; hell = vagina. Probably obvious: “root,” “stoker,” and “thrall” (thrill), as well as the not-subtle sexuality of Stoker’s Dracula (noted by some reviewers at the time) thicken the innuendo. “Dracula’s nightout” (a take-off of, for instance, “Cook’s night out”) is of course paradoxical, since it’s at night that Dracula really goes to work. (But then, he does go out to do it.) Reminders here, I think, of the manservant’s job description (141.8-26): it’s his job to stoke the fires, he has certain “outings” (141.23). (Also, he’s in charge of ((“curfe you” (.34)) curfew: see annotation to 141.15, above.) 145.33: “For creepsake don’t make a flush! Draw the shades:” Dracularian terminology. “Flush” as in flushed face, a vampire specialty. Jonathan Harker’s room in Dracula’s castle has no curtains – not that, later, curtains are any protection against the count’s nighttime, night-out visits. 145.35-6: “halve a bannan:” “Have a banana, Hannah:” line from Cab Calloway’s “Everybody Eats When They Come to My House.” 146.2: “If I am laughing with you?:” as opposed to laughing at you 146.3: “take my rise out of you:” get a (phallic) rise out of you (with my teasing) 146.7-8: “puff pipe:” P.P. = Parish Priest 146.9: “He thinks that’s what the vesprey’s for:” as a would-be clergyman-lover, he thinks evening (including vespers, evening prayers), is the time for seducing women. 146.11-2: “Tame Schwipps:” the Schweppes (tonic or soda) has gone flat? 146.12-3: “I hope they threw away the mould:” expression, usually complimentary: “They threw away the mold when they made him/her.” Also, see 142.3. Issy seems to fear that the presence of mould in the kitchen will attract the scrutiny of inspectors. 146.13: “Ballshossers and Sourdamapplers:” Balthasars and Salmanasars: names for supersized bottles of drink, especially champagne. Also the names of two ancient eastern kings. I can’t see how either fits the context, although as bottles they might go with the Schweppes strain (.11-2). 146.14: “medical assassiations:” medical assassins/assassinations, as well as associations. Perhaps reflects the common belief – true enough, through most of history – that doctors kill more often than cure. 146.15: “I’ve got my latchkey vote:” given context, when (some) women get the right to vote. Complicated, but in 1909-1910-1911 the issues of the latchkey vote and votes for women were intertwined; see Wikipedia entry on “Conciliation Bill.” 146.17-8: “you pluckless lankaloot:” “pluckless:” in addition to “luckless,” lacking pluck, i.e. spirit. Compare Molly: “I hate an unlucky man.” Speaking of Ulysses, “lankaloot” may be a compressed version of “lankylooking galoot.” 146.20: “nomme d’engien:” Glasheen lists this as referring to the Duc d’Enghien, murdered by Napoleon. There is a tradition, included in War and Peace, that Napoleon and the duke were rivals for the same woman. The duke was married to Charlotte Louise de Rohan shortly before Napoleon had him seized and shot. Compare 457.32-3. 146.21: “we do:” “I do” of marriage vows 146.21-2: “when you are married to reading and writing:” compare expression “married to his job.” Nora must have felt this way at times. 146.24: "since the day he carried me from the boat, my saviored of eroes:" in the Joseph Bédier version of the Tristan and Iseult story, Tristan, disguised as a pilgrim, carries Iseult from her boat, thus allowing her to swear truthfully that "no man born of woman has held me in his arms saving King Mark, my lord, and that poor pilgrim." 146.30: “here’s my arm, pulletneck:” Gentleman offers lady his arm in order to escort her – here Issy, like Gerty McDowell, imagining courtship ritual with her beau ideal. “Pulletneck:” compare Boylan in “Wandering Rocks,” observing a shopgirl: “A young pullet.” 146.34: “limes:” given emergent theatre theme, “limes” are probably limelight. Compare 221.28. 146.34: “bigtree:” bigotry, probably in the sense of ignorance rather than prejudice 146.34: “You know bigtree are all against gravstone:” big trees are against Gladstone because of his publicized hobby of chopping them down. 147.1-2: “Musforget there’s an audience:” actor’s way of warding off stage fright 147.4: “Bigbawl and his boosers’ eleven:” formula for band names, for instance “Red Nichols and His Five Pennies.” FW's Mullingar House's drinking customers number twelve. 147.5: “Old Sot’s Hole:” here, a venue for the band’s performances 147.6: “noisense:” noisome, nonsensical noise – the sound of the band 147.6-7: “Aves Selvae Acquae Valles!:" Hail, forests and valleys! Presumably a line from the performance. Compare “Ye crags and peaks I’m with you once again,” a line from James Sheridan Knowles’s play William Tell, remembered by Bloom in “Nausicaa.” 147.8: “finger:” two senses, I think. 1. the musical sense of “fingering” an instrument. Issy may have been “self-taught.” 2. She’s using her finger like a conductor’s baton to call on each of the twenty-eight singing blackbirds in order, with her own note, “Mee,” making twenty-nine. 147.8: “eurhythmytic:” Eurythmics: modern dance troupe of the 1930s; for a short time, Lucia Joyce was a member. 147.8-9: “And you’ll see if I’m selfthought:” the evidence of her fellow “classbirds” proves that she isn’t self-taught. (A class signifier: Virginia Woolf, in her diary – certainly unknown to Joyce – dismisses him as “self-taught.”) 147.17: “penancies:” penalties 147.19: “rosaring:” rosary 147.20-1: “But I’ll plant them a poser for their nomanclatter:” Two nomenclature guessing games: Odysseus as “No man” to Polyphemus; Joyce on the title of this book. “Poser:” difficult question or puzzle 147.25: “sundry papers:” Society engagements and weddings are typically covered in the Sunday papers. 147.26-7: “Sainte Andrée’s Undershift:” Saint Andrew has been feminized, his undershirt turned into a woman’s shift, worn under the dress. (The word “shifts,” in Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World, caused a scandal in its day.) 147.28: “naughties and all the other wonderwearlds:” naughty (therefore wonderful) underwear 147.29-30: “Close your, notmust look! Now open, pet, your lips, pepette, like I sued my sweet parted lipsabuss with Dan Holohan of facetious memory::” echoes “Open your lips and close your eyes / And I’ll give you a big surprise.” Usually spoken to children in giving them something sweet to eat, here apparently the big surprise is a “linguo” (.35) buss, a French kiss between parted lips. In Joyce's Notebook VI.B.18.237, the excerpt "my sweet parted lips," from “The Story of Tristram and La Belle Iseult,” in Cornwall’s Wonderland by Mabel Quiller-Couch, the words clearly refer to the love potion drunk by Tristram and Iseult. Also, as made clear by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu ("A Finnegans Wake Miscellany," Genetic Joyce Studies 21, p. 3), something considerably more explicit. "Holohan" was the name of a man Joyce suspected of having some degree of sexual intimacy with Nora around the time of Bloomsday. "Pepet" is Malay for vagina, a usage which occurs several other places in FW. Clearly, the "lips" / "lipsabuss" being opened include vaginal labia. 147.32: “smelled pouder:” smelled powder: got a taste of battle. Here used figuratively for a love skirmish. Also pudor, shame 147.36-148.1: “my whisping?:” aside from whispering, probably the sound of her urinating 148.4: “dark nets:” (dark) fishnet stockings. (Compare 144.20-1.) Much of the conversation here is about her fetching new clothes. The earliest Google Books occurrence of “fishnet stockings” is 1933, but the entry's language suggests that they have been around for a while. Saint Andrew (147.26), patron of fishermen, is sometimes depicted with a fishing net. 148.7: “duvetyne:” divine 148.9-10: “O, I can see the cost, chare!:” 1. One member of sea-going couple to other saying, “O, I can see the coast, [cher] dear!” 2. Woman opening present of new dress saying that she can see the (expensive) cost on the price-tag 148.11: “sell…sold:” tell…told 148.16-8: "I thought ye knew all and more, ye aucthor, to explique to ones the significat of their exsystems:" shortly after finishing Ulysses, Joyce recounted a dream in which, addressing Molly Bloom, “I delivered the one speech of my life. It was very long, eloquent and full of passion, explaining all the last episode of Ulysses.” Oxford editors have “aucthors.” 148.18: “It’s only:” whatever made him “start” at .16. 148.18-9: “queer fish:” contemporary expression meaning much the same as “odd duck.” (Shaw’s preface to Saint Joan calls Joan of Arc one of history’s “queerest fish.”) Consorts with “trouchorous river;” also, perhaps, “dark nets”/fishnets (.4) 148.20: “Gothewishegoths bless us:” a slurred “God be with us and bless us” 148.21: “Excuse me for swearing:” see previous entry. 148.21-2: "I swear...by this alpin armlet!:" Joyce's entry in Notebook VI.B.18.217, "Swear on armlet," comes from an account of how the Danes "swore on their armlets" to a treaty, but "are said to have broken it immediately." 148.22-3: “Did you really never in all your cantalang lives speak clothes to a girl’s before?” 1. Is this really the first time you’ve been this close to a girl’s private parts? 2. Is this really the first time you’ve revealed your fetishistic fondness for women’s intimate apparel – undies, slips, fishnets, etc.? (Joyce and Bloom had this predilection in common.) 148.23: “cantalang lives:” a cat has nine lives; here the listener has about used all of his up. (This is one of a number of passages in which Issy may be addressing her pet cat.) Also, a reference to the Catalan language. (As best I can find, no one has done a survey of Catalan in FW – assuming it’s present, which seems probable.) 148.24: “Not even to the charmermaid?:” see entry for .23. Serving girls, chambermaids for instance, were proverbially popular means of sexual initiation and transgression: the “slavey” in “Two Gallants,” Mary Driscoll in Ulysses. Nora was a chambermaid when Joyce met her. 148.26: “whiss:” again, baby-talk for urinate 148.27: “dearstreaming:” perhaps an echo of daydreaming 148.27-8: “you may go through me!:” Boylan to Bloom in “Circe:” “You can apply your eye to the keyhole and play with yourself while I just go through her a few times.” 148.28: “white life:” white lie 148.29: “Or ever for bitter:” given context of marriage ceremony (see next entry), probably an overtone of “for better or worse.” Also, echoes: bitter end, “bitter ending” (627.35) 148.29-30: “With my whiteness I thee woo and bind my silk breasths I thee bound!:” the Anglican marriage service – uniquely, I believe – includes a promise to worship with “all my body.” Compare 547.28. 148.31: “Till always, thou lovest:” again, from the wedding ceremony’s “till death us do part.” 148.33: “on the binge a poor achesyeld from Ailing:” i.e. on a drinking binge. Joyce was at one point warned that his drinking would worsen his chronic eye condition – his ailing, aching eyes - even lead to total blindness. He kept on drinking. 148.34: “the tune of his tremble shook shimmy on shin:” “tremble:” tremolo. Echo of “not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!” (Again: in circulation well before the Disney version.) Echo of “Jimmy” (Joyce) in “shimmy.” Joyce occasionally sported a wispy beard on his chin. 148.35: “the weak of his wailing:” unlike John McCormack’s, Joyce’s tenor voice was too weak for operatic performances. 149.1: “playing fox and lice:” Stephen Dedalus has lice, identifies himself as a type of fox. 149.1: “dropping hips teeth:” like Stephen, Joyce had bad teeth; the last of them was pulled after he turned forty. 149.4: “weapt while he leapt and guffalled quith a quhimper:” variant on FW’s Brunonian “in tristitia hilaris, in hilaritate tristis” theme: weeping for sorrow while leaping for joy, guffawing while whimpering 149.5-6: “blood…cold…blue…flech…suck:” another cluster, I think: flech is Scottish idiom for flea; fleas suck blood, which can sometimes be “blue” or “cold;” we heard about “lice” four lines up; the whole sequence anticipates the Ant and Grasshopper/Ondt and Gracehoper fable of 414.22-419.10; the grasshopper itself may be adumbrated in “weapt while he leapt.” Sometimes in such passages Joyce seems to be operating along the free-form associationist principles of the Symbolistes. 149.6: “kake:” cake (as in “Let them eat…”); Greek kako, shit. (Compare 120.22-3.) 149.7: “fain shinner:” fain to – inclined to – sin 149.7: “pegged:” begged: well-off or not, Joyce was always inclined to begging. 149.8: “skillmustered:” Joyce was a language schoolmaster for Berlitz. 149.8: "shoul:" shul, Yiddish for synagogue 149.11: “No, blank ye:” Compare schoolkid in Portrait, chapter two: “Damn this blankety-blank holder!” Up into, at least, my early youth, “blank” and blankety-blank” were common dodgings for swear-words. 149.16: “hasitate:” equal-oppositely, combines “hesitate” with “haste.” 149.21: “as under:” asunder 149.23: “goodmother Miss Fortune:” in “Eumaeus,” when asked by Bloom why he left home, Stephen answers, “To seek misfortune.” Bloom gets Stephen’s words mixed up with a supposed “Miss Ferguson,” in turn derived from his mishearing of Stephen’s semiconscious muttering about Yeats’ “Fergus,” and speculates that she is Stephen’s love interest. 149.29: “plumbsily:” clumsily, leadenly, heavily. Also, to “put” something “plumply” is to express it straightforwardly. 149.32: “alternativomentally:” mixes English “alternatively” with French alternativement.” Joyce found fault with Flaubert for ending the story “Hérodias” with this word, used to describe the actions of three characters instead of two. Here, correctly (and probably mock-pedantically), Joyce applies it to just two alternatives, “harrogate and arrogate.” 149.34: “talis:” tallis, Hebrew for prayer-shawl. Passim (“passims” (.34)), Hebrew for fine wool or linen. Jones’s indictment of Shem is often antisemitic. (For instance, at 150.26-8.) In biblical tradition, Shem was the originator of the Jewish race. Matthew Hodgart traces much of the following to Richard Wagner, especially to Wagner’s antisemitic polemics. 150.3: “Of your plates?”: At your place? – seducer’s line 150.4: “on at:” that is, performing at 150.3-5: “Is Talis de Talis, the swordswallower, who is on at the Craterium the same Talis von Talis, the penscrusher:” in modern parlance, anyway, a “sword-swallower” is someone, male or female, who practices fellatio (and then, mutatis mutandis, there was “ladyeater” at .2), and a “penis-crusher” (compare “ballbuster”) is someone, male or female (usually the latter, but this one seems to be male), who inflicts sexual humiliation on men. No way I know of to find whether these terms were around in Joyce’s time – but note Jones’ follow-up: “Or this is a perhaps cleaner example.” 150.9: “seesers:” as in “Scylla and Charybdis,” sizars – a university student whose fees are paid for him, and who is therefore required to perform menial tasks 150.9-10: “borrowed the question:” begged the question 150.11-2: “wiping his whistle:” American expression “wetting his whistle:” having a drink. Germans, academics included, are stereotypically associated with beer-drinking. 150.16-7: “Shalmanesir sanitational reforms:” sanitational actions to prevent salmonella. Compare 79.32. 150.17-8: “Mr Skekels and Dr Hydes:” as Jekyll and Hyde, probably a simplified version of (“Loewy-Brueller” (.15)) Lévy-Bruehl’s distinction between primitive and European minds. “Skekels” may include “shekels,” a word common in anti-Semitic discourse. 150.24: “talked off:” talked-of 150.25: “leonine uproar on its escape after confinement:” refers to the beginning of I.3 150.28: “5688 A.M.:” See McHugh. 1927 in the Hebrew calendar as well 150.28: “gabbercoat:” gabardine: traditional material of Jewish clothing 150.30-32: “’by Allswill’ the inception and the descent and the endswell of Man is temporarily wrapped in obscenity:” compare Stephen in “Oxen of the Sun:” “The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt’s plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and quomodo.” 150.32: “faroscope:” imaginary instrument to enable far-seeingness; compare 157.21. Joyce’s vision was, medically, farsighted. 150.33: “nightlife:” in its early days television was broadcast only or almost only at night. In “Nausicaa” Bloom reflects that the night is a “good conductor” for noise and, by extension other air- (or ether-) borne signals. This is certainly the case for radio (note “ratio” - radio - at 151.2 rand “feracity” – Faraday – at 151.6-7): Joyce, in Paris, enjoyed listening to nighttime broadcasts from America: see 489.36-490.1. (Television, however, is at least to some extent a different matter: it wasn’t until the 1960’s that satellites made transatlantic broadcasts possible.) In II.3 it becomes reasonably clear, I think, that the pub has both a radio and a television; the two, at least for me, sometimes seem to be confused with one another. (Then as now, some drinking establishments made a point of installing the latest in the way of such apparatus as a way of drawing customers.) 150.33-5: “this nightlife instruments needs still some subtractional betterment in the readjustment of the more refrangible angles:” some of us can still remember when television sets required constant adjustment: vertical control, horizontal control, “snow,” etc; the difficulties were much greater in its first days. See 309.11-310.21 for a detailed account of the Mullingar’s set, including an aerial on the roof. (To repeat: access to television during the FW years, in Paris or elsewhere - but not Ireland - would have been rare but possible.) For what was apparently Joyce's main source on television technology, see note to 349.6-350.9. 150.35: “squeals:” sequels 151.2: “my volumes:” the books he has written proving this or that. Jones considers writing superior to speaking (or, of course, singing). 151.2-3: “the cube of my volumes is to the surfaces of their subjects as the sphericity of these globes:” a report on attempts to square the circle (or, here, cube the sphere) for a parliamentary report and reward. Also, the two globes – terrestrial and celestial – whose “use” was long taught in schools. (The term appears in “Oxen of the Sun.”) 151.4: “this term:” i.e. parliamentary term 151.6-7: “feracity:” veracity; Michael Faraday, who began the experiments which made radio and television possible 151.6: “mandaboutwoman:” man-about-town; mad about women: a cosmopolitan heterosexual male. (.5-7 in general seems to reflect contemporary concerns that, besides becoming “unfashionable” (120.35), such men are being rendered effete, overly decorous and hesitant in pursuing women – as exemplified, for instance, by the castrato Farinelli's “Fairynelly’s vacuum”(.6-7) – the fear being that a decline in manhood will undermine the birthrate, thus the number of men available for soldiers, and, in general, the fighting spirit required to maintain the empire. Such anxieties were partly responsible for the prosecution of Oscar Wilde, and why prostitutes danced in the streets when he was convicted. Nell Gwynne (Charles II’s “Nelly”) was the original “Fair Nell;” the term later became generic. 151.7: “Fairynelly’s vacuum:” from Faraday until about 1960, television sets came with an assemblage of vacuum tubes. Radios also had vacuum tubes. 151.8-11: “obintentional… foes:” unintentional treading on the toes (of my (downtrodden, like the begging brother) foes) 151.12: “hinn:” double-n = m - him. Also, as hen: he’s talking about eggs 151.13-4: “in the one hands…apan the oven:” on the one hand, on the other 151.14: “Ket’s rebollions:” kettle’s reboilings 151.14-5: “Ket’s rebollions cooling the Popes back, because the number of squeer faiths:” the rebels of Ket’s Rebellion were Catholics who insisted that the mass be performed in Latin, not English: in a sense, during the time of Henry VIII’s break with the Church, they were calling the pope back. “Squeer faiths:” both queer faiths – a multiplicity of oddball sects resulting from deserting the pope, as for instance enumerated by Stephen in Portrait, chapter five – and, possibly a glance at the English squires whose enclosures of formerly public land precipitated the rebellion. Also, “Ket” may signal Kate, like the Maria of “Clay” a Catholic servant in a Protestant home. She is often associated with witchery; note proximity to (“watches cunldron” (.13)) witch’s caldron. Oxford editors change “cunldron” to “cauldron.” 151.18-9: “tomtompions…deadbeat:" tom-tom goes with “beat:” Shem, a “romantic in rags” (.17) as atavistic purveyor of primitive music. Also, “deadbeat” is Americanism for someone who doesn’t pay his debts. 151.18-9: “deadbeat escupement:” deadbeat escapement: feature of pendulum clocks 151.20: “taradition:” taradiddle: fairy story/cock and bull story. Jones would consider the Arthurian legends to be romantic taradiddle. When they involve Irish elements – as with Tristan and Iseult – they become Tara-diddle. (Although Jones is the commonest of Welsh names, this one seems to be set against both Welsh and Irish – perhaps just anything Celtic – although he may be changing his tune later: see note to 151.32. 151.20-1: “commononguardiant:” Common Law Guardian: guardian of orphan under fourteen 151.21-2: “His everpresent toes are always in retaliessian out throuth his overpast boots:” compare .10-1 and note: so it’s the other fellow’s fault if Jones trod on his toes. Oxford editors have “through” for “throuth.” 151.23: “Teek heet:” take heed; tee-hee. (He finds, or pretends to find, his pronunciation ridiculous. Actually, Lewis Waller (see McHugh), a matinee idol with an enthusiastic female following (which may be what really annoys Jones), was, according to Wikipedia, noted for his ringing, “vibrant” voice. 151.23: "looswaller:" from Digger Dialects: Loos Wallah: Mesopotamian for thief. Compare next entry. 151.23: "bolo the bat:" also from Digger Dialects – A Collection of Slang Phrases used by the Australian Soldiers on Active Service, compiled by W.H. Downing, as recorded in Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 18, by Ian MacArthur and Geert Lernout: to speak the language 151.23-4: “Tyro a toray!:” contraction of “Tarara Boom De Ay!” refrain of popular song, 1891. See .20 and note. 151.24-5: “couple…three:” yet another 2-3 twin signature 151.25: “stripping:” striplingf(s) 151.25: “in number three.” See 561.1-10. The top floor has two bedrooms, one for Issy and one for the twins. The parents’ bedroom is one flight down. Issy has “number one” upstairs, but, taking the whole house into consideration and counting the parents’ as number one, the twins’ would be not number two, but three. Perhaps yet another of the myriad two-three oscillations associated with them 151.25-6: “neat drop that would malt in my mouth:” malt drops: a kind of cough drop, around in the early 20th century. Two maybe’s: 1. As such, may be treatment for the “couple” of common “colds” (.24) shared by the twins, in their one room, where one may well have caught a cold from the other. (And that room is itself probably cold, thus according to conventional wisdom liable to give them colds: Issy’s room has a fireplace, but theirs apparently does not.) 2. As one of two “deglutables” (.28), may either or also be a malt drink, beer or (“neat” would seem to fit) whiskey. Cough drops, of course, melt in the mouth, as, conventionally, does anything especially good-tasting. Cough drops and whiskey drops would definitely have different (“specific gravitates” (.27-8)) specific gravities – and if all this seems preposterously pedantic, well, that’s Jones for you. 151.27: “expounding the obvious:” common expression for explanations of what does not require explaining 151.29: “asousiated with the royal gorge through students of mixed hydrostatics and pneumodipsics:” Oxford editors have “though” for “through.” “Asousiated:” soused, i.e. drunk; “-dipsics,” dipsomaniacs. “Gorge” (and “lequo” (.29), liquor; Oxford editors have “lequor”) as in throat, follows from the “deglutables” (.28) discussion. “Royal gorge:” Except for the brief Edward VIII embarrassment, the British monarch throughout the writing of FW was named George. Also, as Mink points out, Dublin’s Royal George Yacht Club (whose members, being sailors, would perforce be “students of mixed hydrostatics and pneumodipsics” (.28-9)) – the interaction of water and rain, in motion or not). 151.32-3: “Llewellys ap Bryllars:” One line after we hear of “Myrrdin,” among other things the (Welsh) Merlin, and then the (definitively) Welsh “Marsellas Cambriannus” (Gerald Cambrensis), this Welshifies the “Lowey-Brueller” introduced at 150.15. According to David J. Califf, Wyndham Lewis, though born in Canada, was of Welsh ancestry. Compare note to 152.1. 151.34: “all posh and robbage:” like Eliot, Joyce was accused of “stolentelling,” (425.35), for instance from Dickens and Dujardin, rather than inventing, a charge he sometimes conceded, while, as in “Scylla and Charbydis,” reminding readers that the same might have been said of Shakespeare. Other critics, from Virginia Woolf to Fredric Jameson, have sniffed out an arriviste itch to come across as posher than his origins properly permitted. 151.34: “on a melodeontic scale:” compare “mastodontic” in “Cyclops:” primevally huge, like a mastodon. (Here, “scale” is also a musical scale.) 152.1: “the plane where me arts soar:” Lewis was a painter, whose (notably geometric) art was inscribed on canvas planes (also planes of geometry: canvasses are, usually, rectangles), therefore flat, surfaces, a fact which has to do with 151.1-3’s concerns about how to reconcile circle and square, the round world on a flat map. Not all that convincingly, after having dismissed the mindless murmurations of anyone claiming to make anything meaningfully permanent out of life’s minute-to-minutes, he here goes on to claim that his own art soars above such vicissitudes, like a pilot in a plane soaring above the (spatial) landscape below. Not irrelevant, here, that the pilots of Lewis’ WW I years were sometimes bombers of military and civilian populations. 152.10: “lacings:” shoelaces 152.10: “tingled:” tinkled: slang for urinated 152.7: “expletive:” explicative 152.14: “Exaudi:” Latin for: Answer! 152.16: “hybreds:” hybrids (maybe obvious) 152.17: “lubberds:” lubbers (also maybe obvious) 152.18: “Eins:” perhaps this is a reach, but I suggest that “Eins” goes with “strain” in “distrain” (153.16) to spell out Einstrain/Einstein. (With eye strain in there as well.) “Stain” is, I suggest, packed into “distrain,” since one of the things being described is the stain on the fundament of Shem’s pants. 152.22: “gammon and spittish:” “gammon and spinach” is, approximately, the British equivalent of bullshit. 152.25: “harped…crown:” Brewer’s: “The Standard-mark of gold or silver is a lion passant for England; a thistle for Edinburgh; a lion rampant for Glasgow; and a harp crowned for Ireland.” 152.26: “De Rure Albo (socolled becauld it was chalkfull of masterplasters:” Britain’s white cliffs of Dover, white because of their chalk content; chalk, converted to lime, is a component of plaster, which is often white. 152.26: “socolled:” England, at least compared to Rome, is cold. 152.27: “borgeously letout gardens:” Village Borghese, landscape garden in Rome 152.27: “cascadas:” as (in McHugh), Italian “cascata”s, waterfalls, probably a reference to Rome’s famous fountains 152.29: “a spasso:” instead of musical direction a tempo, which means: resume normal speed 152.33-4: “from vetoes to threetop:” from toes to top: a variant of the “cap-a-pie” tag often associated with the male principal in his eminence. Note overtone of two-three, (once again) signature of the twins: here as elsewhere the two halves or components of the father. 152.36: “azylium:” Elysium 153.1-2: “one one oneth:” as three-sided delta, ALP is often signaled by 111, or III, or 3. 153.3: “unconsciously:” unconscionably 153.3-4: “locked his eyes with:” “locking eyes” occurs when two people stare into one another’s eyes. 153.4-5: “out of the colliens it took a rise by daubing itself Ninon:” as I.8 will testify, the Liffey flows from out of the Wicklow hills. Given that “collions” (a.k.a. “culliens,” etc. - variously spelled) is ME for testicles and that Ninon de Lenclos was a courtesan, “took a rise” is probably a sexual innuendo. 153.5-6: “narrows:” OED: “the narrow part of a sound, strait, or river.” 153.6: “purliteasy:” purl: a mixture of hot ale and sugar, with wormwood infused. Also, the sound of moving water – as such, appears in Ulysses 153.10: “parched:” in “Calypso,” means thirsty 153.12: “for why had he not been having the juice of his times?:” suggest this also works as “for why? Had he not been having the deuce of a time?” 153.13: “His pips:” given context, eyes, like the dots above two lower-case i’s. (See 244.30.) FW frequently represents Joyce’s glaucoma in terms of watery emergency, presumably because it results from excessive liquid pressure from inside the eyeball. Possible (ironic) overtone of “His nibs.” 153.13: “palps:” compare “Telemachus:” “palps of his fingers.” 153.14-5: “for getting the dresser’s desdaign on the flyleaf of his frons:” formula behind this: he is neglecting his gifts, his creator’s design for him, as situated in the brain behind his forehead, thus earning his designer’s dismay and disdain. (Joyce had a notably prominent forehead which, along with his deep chin, gave his profile something of a lima-bean look.) May reflect concerns of Joyce’s fans that in writing this book he was wasting his genius. 153.15: “frons:” along with “flyleaf,” frontispiece 153.16: “bailiff’s distrain on to the bulkside:” his dwelling place has been legally seized because he can’t pay the rent or mortgage. ("Distrain" occurs in this sense in “Wandering Rocks.”) What is sometimes called a “bailiff’s notice” of the action has been posted on one side of the building, also (paralleling the “desdaign” on his forehead) on his backside - his cul, French for arse - like a “Kick Me” sign in a cartoon. 153.17: “specious heavings:” spacious livings (living quarters) 153.21: “accessit of aurignacian:” access of indignation. Possible overtone of Avignon, seat of seven popes/antipopes; in the end the papacy, “in roaming run through Room,” “must” (.24, .23, .22) and did, like “Allrouts” (.22), all roads, return definitively to Rome. 153.22-3: “austereways or wastersways:” either the way of austerity or the way of the wastrel. The history of the papacy has included both. 153.23-4: “Hic sor a stone…on hoc stone Seter satt:” Jesus’ pun: “Thou art Peter, and upon this stone [or rock] will I build my church.” The double meaning works in both Aramaic and Latin; the Latin version is inscribed around the rim of St. Peter’s dome in the Vatican. Joyce once remarked that if a pun was good enough for the founding of the Church it was good enough for him. 153.23-4: “Hic…illud…hoc…huc:” compare 130.19-20. Again, this sounds like the first day of first-year Latin; later in the sentence the lesson gets considerably more complicated. 153.26: “whereopum:” spelling here perhaps recalls Marx on religion: the opiate (from ("-opum") opium) of the masses 153.28-9: “athemystsprinkled pederect…everyway addedto wallat’s collectium:” traditional pilgrim’s wallet and staff, here showing signs of the Church’s corruption by luxury. The first item is also a variation of the (misty) “clouded cane” of 18th-century dandies: besides amethyst, a pederote is an opal; overtones of “atheist” and “pederast” do not improve the profile. The (impoverished, initially) wallet is constantly being added to; collectium is Latin for collector. Martin Luther himself couldn’t have put it more pungently. 153.29: “frisherman’s blague:” in “Oxen of the Sun,” a “bag” is the (fresh) fish a fisherman has accumulated at the end of the day. Also, an allusion to Saint Peter, the fisherman, with "blague" probably an overtone of French bague, the (pope's) ring, to be kissed by supplicants. Also, along with “cheek” (.28) and echo of “fresh” in “frisherman’s,” “blague” takes the French meaning of bantering, unserious – that is ("cheek by jowel" (.28-9)) cheeky. 153.31-2: “haul it cost:” holocaust. May double with Holy Ghost by way of fire: the former, tongues of fire at the Pentecost, the latter, a burnt offering, or, more generally, a massacre. In “Ithaca,” Bloom’s fight with the citizen is remembered as “Holocaust.” 153.34: “Faultyfindth:” fault-finding 153.34: “allnight sitting:” a meeting, for instance legislative, which continues through the night 153.36: “wherry:” kind of boat a fisherman might use 153.36: “wherry whiggy maudelenian woice:” see 175.27-8: an earwiggy voice would be chirpy – which, to be sure, would seem to be incompatible with its being maudlin. 154.1: “brayed:” "asses" (.1) bray. 154.7: “Rats!:” response to “mouse” in “dear mouster” (.3). Google Books shows that the expression “a mouse studying to be a rat” was around in Joyce’s time. 154.7: “telesphorously:” etymologically, should mean something like far-carrying, from the Mookse’s loud (“bullowed”) bellowing. 154.9-10: “you cannot make a silken nouse out of a hoarse oar:” gentry convicted of capital crimes were hanged in a noose of silk, commoners in one made of horse-hair. (Note “hang you” in next line.) Also, general sense that fine sentiments or expressions will be lost on the ears of coarse listeners - the sow's ear to his silk purse 154.11: “anathomy infairioriboos:” inferior anatomy, with “inferior” in the sense of both “worse” and “lower:” again, Shaun and Shem often correspond to the top and bottom halves of the body, respectively – hence, as noted above, the Gripes appears with “colliens” – “culliens”- testicles. 154.13: “Gather behind me, satraps!:” Adrian IV (the main pope present in this sequence) refused to crown Frederick Barbarossa until Barbarossa, acting as his ("satraps") satrap, held the ("satraps") stirrup of his horse. 154.14-5: “his whine having gone to his palpruy head:” the wine has gone to his head. 154.15-6: “I am still always having a wish on:” compare 244.17. Anglo-Irish expression for “I wish” 154.16: “what is the time, pace:” in Book I’s middle chapters an apparently casual request for the time started the ruckus that led to the scandal, trial, etc. Here once again it causes trouble. 154.18: “index:” as in Index Prohibitorum 154.18-9: “Ask my index, mund my achilles, swell my obolum, woshup my nase serene:” the last item: drops or spray to clean out the nostrils; “serene” as in stuck-up, nose in the air. Three of the four items in the list – finger, heel or tendon, nose – have to do with body parts; mildly surprising that “swell my obolum” doesn’t seem to. (And how, by the way, does one “swell” a Greek coin?) 154.21: “Quote awhore?:” would make sense if prostitutes were in the habit of approaching potential customers by asking the time. It has been suggested that the FW park scandal arises from crossed signals resembling the “Throwaway” story in Ulysses - that male homosexuals could identify one another if one asked the time and the other answered that it was noon – the problem with the FW park encounter being that it really is noon. By report, similar confusions have sometimes arisen in the case of S&M “safe words.” 154.23: “barbarousse:” Pope Urban III (see 155.4 and McHugh note) quarreled with and eventually excommunicated Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa. 154.29: “Culla vosellina:” a Vaselined anus. The Gripes, he of the inferior anatomy, is preparing to submit sexually. (Brand name “Vaseline” was around since before Joyce’s time.) 154.30: “thinkling:” tinkling: elsewhere in FW, the (exciting) sound of urination. (For this and (many) similar sequences, see the 1984 edition of Ellmann’s biography, pages 418-9.) May also be a sign of fear 154.31: “rime on my raisins:” expression: neither rhyme nor reason. Raisins are dried (“Gripes”) grapes; morning rime on a crop of grapes would be bad news for the wine harvest. 154.31: “connow:” can now 154.33: “Ishallassoboundbewilsothoutoosezit:” see the text of Herrick’s poem “To Anthaea, Who May Command Him Anything.” Quoted at 4.8 and elsewhere 154.33-4: “loudy bullocker:” compare “bullowed” (.7). 154.34: “velicity:” felicity – echo of Dublin motto 154.35: “my spetial inexshellsis the belowing things ab ove:” Theosophist doctrine: “As above, so below.” Also, in an eggshell (nutshell) his greatest pleasure, the high point of his life, is bringing the celestial down to earth, below. This, in Portrait, chapter five, is according to Stephen what the priest performs during mass and what the true artist aspires towards; on the other hand Joyce was sometimes accused of debasing human life, its finer things included. 155.1: “his limb:” compare 153.10. 155.4-5: “Semperexcommunicambiambisumers:” see note to 154.23. 155.10-1: “out of my temporal:” the pope’s “temporal power,” as opposed to pastoral power. A major source of contention with Barbarossa and other secular rulers. Part of the – again, compare “Throwaway,” in Ulysses – garbled dispute (time – tempus – temple – temporal, etc.) – initiated by the Gripes’ 154.16 request for the time 155.12: “as we first met each other so airly:” compare 37.12-3. A version of Joyce’s meeting with the older Yeats 155.13: “contemption:” contempt plus compassion, along with another sounding of the time-tempus strain 155.14: “motherour’s:” Catholics sometimes refer to the church as “our mother the Church” or “our holy mother the Church.” 155.14: "thank decretals:" probably an unintentional allusion to the "False Decretals," a ME forgery that increased the power of he papacy 155.16: “Unionjok and be joined to yok!:” in 1801, the cross of Saint Patrick was added to the Union Jack, which had previously joined the crosses of Saint George (England) and Saint Andrew (Scotland). 155.16-7: “Parysis, tu sais, crucycrooks, belongs to him who parises himself:” surely a fragmentary echo of Henry IV’s “Paris is well worth a mass” 155.18: “pressing:” pressing to death, a form of torture/execution. Note “weight” in next line. Probably a coincidence, but “More weight” were the last words spoken by one of the men of Salem, Massachusetts pressed to death for witchcraft; the (strange) question was whether he wanted anything. Also, the printing press: again, the Mookse relies on writing, the Gripes on speech. 155.21-2: “Quas primas – but ‘tis bitter to compote my knowledges fructos of. Tomes." something to the effect of, It’s better to compose the fruit of my knowledge in ("Tomes") books. 155.22: “Tomes:” also Thomas (Aquinas), source of quote of 155.21 155.23-8: “Elevating, to give peint to his blick, his jewelled pederect to the allmysty cielung, he luckystruck blueild out of a few shouldbe santillants, a cloister of starabouts over Maples, a lucciolys in Teresa street and a stopsign before Sophy Barratt’s, he gaddered togodder the odds docence of his vellumes, gresk, letton and russicruxian:” describes him flicking glowing ashes off the end of his (Lucky Strike) cigarette (its end glowing, as if from jewels), with sparkly, jewelly results: (“santillants”) scintillants – French for glittery Christmas tree ornaments; a cluster of stars, possibly as seen over Naples; (“lucciolys”) fireflies (see McHugh), along with an allusion to the candles-lighted crown featured in (see Christiani) celebrations of (Lucia Lys) Sweden’s Saint Lucy’s Eve. (The “stopsign,” appropriately, brings things down to earth – it is “before,” not over, its site.) He’s a religious leader, a pope in fact, with religious manifestations: the (“Elevating”) elevation is of a priest raising the chalice, making (Christ’s) blood. There follow a bunch of would-be saints plus three canonized ones (Teresa, Lucy, and Madeleine Sophy Barat), a cloister, a holy night (again, St. Lucy’s), and – see McHugh - institution, the Congregation of the Sacred Heart. On the other, as usual opposite, hand, his “jewelled pederect” is wounding, drawing blood, from those saints, and probably recalls the centurion’s lance stabbing the crucified Jesus: “peint” (see McHugh) is pain. (Burning prisoners and suspects with lighted cigarettes has long been a traditional third-degree practice.) “Peint” is also paint - although not one of FW’s rainbows, the composition includes green (the color of Lucky Strike packs, before WW II), blue (“blueild”), and a stop sign, bright red in the British Isles as in America. (Other shades – grey, russet – may be in the picture as well.) Also, “odds docence” is “odd dozen.” Also, contemplating Dublin’s Maple’s Hotel, with its “sleek…patricians,” the Stephen of Portrait, chapter five, pondered whether he might find a way to “hit” their "conscience.” “Gaddered togodder:” gathered to God, to his maker, his fathers, etc. – that is, died. “Vellumes:” church writings on vellum. Also, identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022), as from an account of Pope Pius XI, who "lit...stars in the heaven of the Church," creating new saints. 155.29: “sat about his widerproof. He proved it well:” having finally finished (.28) the last (“lapse”) of his prologues, he set about establishing and developing his wider proof or proofs – presumably for the existence of his version of God. Google Books confirms that the phrase “wider proof” occurs frequently in theological as well as legal disquisitions. 155.31: “Alopysius:” Joyce’s confirmation name was Aloysius. “Alopex” is Latin for fox. (Stephen Dedalus, with his “cunning,” identifies with foxes.) Also, foxes are notoriously (“alopecia”) mangy. 155.36: “Alldaybrandy’s formolon:” McHugh notes that formalin is a preservative; brandy has been used to preserve fruit, not to mention the body of Horatio Nelson. 156.3: “Inklespill:” spilled ink 155.5: “Pontius Pilax:” perhaps Joyce’s crowning insult against the Church: combining Pontius Pilate with one of the pontiffs named Pius. Pius XI was pope during the years of FW’s composition. 156.12: “semenoyous…to combuccinate:” again, because of the context, I’d point out the “semen” in “semenoyous” and what seems to me the sexual orality in “combuccinate;” compare “Ithaca,” with its pornographic picture of mutual “buccal coition.” In the rest, up to line 18, I hear overtones of ("silipses" (.13)) lips, (aspillouts" (.13)) ass (American version of "arse") and spill (i.e. come or spend), ("sweeatovular" (.15)) sweat and ovulate, and (babskissed" (.17)) kiss. Have to confess I can’t see how it all adds up, unless as a clumsily ignorant what-goes-where attempt at an orgy 156.13: “acheporeoozers:” arch-perusers – his most devoted readers 156.15-6: “the loggerthuds of his sakellaries:” perhaps: the logic of his corollaries, with “thuds” indicating emphatic thoughts. (Like the next item, this is a best guess.) 156.16: “synodals of his somepooliom:” again, a perhaps: the syllogisms of his symposium? 156.19-21: “thousand yaws…thousand yores:” both refer to the Millenium, one space-wise and the other time-wise: a yaw is motion in space, a yore is distant in time. 156.19: “yaws:” toffish pronunciation of “years” 156.19: “con my sheepskins:” again, the Mookse is the one whose authority rests on the written (and published) word – here, on manuscripts written on sheepskin. Also, on academic authority: “sheepskin” is slang for diploma. Also, it’s a bad sign when an authority cast as the shepherd of his flock is dealing in their flayed remains. (Poet Billy Collins has a funny poem on this theme: “Flock.”) 156.19-20: “yow will:” yowl. Again, the Mookse is a bellower. 156.21-2: “be the goat of MacHammud’s:” as McHugh notes, “goat” echoes goatee, MacHammud’s” Mohammed. So: together, they make the common – in fact stereotypical – Muslim vow, “by the beard of the Prophet.” Compare 33.32-3. 156.24-5: “the electress of Vale Hollow:” Christiani: “A Valkyrie, who chooses the slain heroes of Valhalla” 156.25: “obselved:” absolved (absolving himself) 156.25-6: “unicum of Elelijiacks:” Act of Union is under the union jack. (See note to 155.16.) Maybe United States of America is involved too: “unicum…Us am.” (There was a good deal of talk at the time of the Anglo-Saxon English-speaking peoples uniting to govern the world.) 156.26-7: “Us am in our stabulary and that is what Ruby and Roby fall for, blissim:” maybe obvious: the ladies, bless ‘em, always fall for all this power and panoply I have on display. Compare Bloom, playing a ladies’ man in “Circe:” “Dash it all. It's a way we gallants have in the navy. Uniform that does it.” Here the uniform is – “stabulary” – a constable’s. 156.28: “Nasal…Army:” Navy (or Naval), Army. Also, compare 154.18-9 and note. 156.29: “bondstrict:” like Saville Row, Bond Street stands for a standard of British male attire. 156.29-30: “brokenarched:” i.e. flatfooted 156.30: “Nuzuland:” also Zulu-land 156.31-2 “Wee…wee.” Baby-talk for piss. Joyce’s early drafts of “Cyclops” shows that he was familiar with the term. Gripes’ limpness fits the occasion. 156.34: “mear’s breath:” merest breath (exemplified by following “Puffut!”); mare’s nest – a real mess. Also, O Hehir has Gaelic “méar,” finger. A finger’s breadth was an ancient unit of measurement. 157.3-4: “- Unuchorn! - Ungulant!:” from horn to hoof: head to toe. Compare 223.31-2. 157.7: “bullfolly answered volleyball:” a stretch, perhaps, but I suggest this gives us a dogmatic papal bull versus latitudinarian (ce que vous) voulais. 157.8: “Nuvoletta in her lightdress, spunn of sisteen shimmers:” see note to 271 Fn. 5. Possibly Lucia in the shimmery dress she wore for a dance performance in 1929. (This passage first appeared in a 1929 transition.) She would have been sixteen when Joyce began work on FW. 157.8: “looking down on them, leaning over the bannistars:” compare Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s “The Blessed Damozel:” “The blessed damozel leaned out / From the gold bar of heaven…/ She had three lilies in her hand / and the stars in her hair were seven.” In the penultimate stanza, “She gazed and listen’d and then said / Less sad of speech than mild, / All this is when he comes.” 157.10-11: “Shouldrups: in a 1933 radio broadcast about Joyce and others, Wyndham Lewis adopted the pseudonym “G. R. Schjelderup.” 157.12: “overclused:” overclouded 157.12: “Kneesknobs:” knobby knees. Paired with (“Shouldrups” (10-1)), shoulder: again, top and bottom halves of one body. 157.13: “paulse:” pest? 157.15-6: “was in the Fuerst quarter scrubbing the backsteps of number 28:” perhaps because a first-quarter moon has its horns pointing east, away from its trajectory toward the west 157.21: “farseeing:” again, along with other eye afflictions, Joyce suffered from presbyopia (see 294.2) – that is, he was farsighted (see 53.3) – a handicap, not a help, to vision. 157.22: “auricular:” oracular 157.22: “mild’s:” mind’s 157.23: “his ens:” philosophically, ens is “an entity regarded apart from any predicate but that of mere existence” (OED). 157.24: “feignt:” feigned, faint 157.26-7: “Heliogobbleus and Commodus and Enobarbarus:” Heliogabalus, Commodus, and Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, later named Nero: notoriously three of Rome’s worst, most ruinous emperors. FW seems to follow Edward in ascribing "The fall" (3.15) to the reign of Commodus (3.2). 157.28: “mignons arms:” the s at the end of “mignons” indicates that it agrees grammatically with the French noun, which would be armes, meaning weapons. 157.29: “queendim:” quim-dom: pussy power. See next three entries. 157.30: “be third perty to search on search proceedings:” participate in a threesome 157.30: “perty:” includes “pert,” a word often applied to lively young women 157.32: “sfumastelliacinous:” probably relevant that sfumato is identified with Leonardo’s paintings – his most famous, of course, being the Mona Lisa, in Joyce’s time virtually synonymous with woman’s mysterious irresistibility. 158.1-2: “sweet madonine…her daisy’s worth to Florida:” popular early 20th century song “Sweet Adeline:” includes the verse “You’re the flower of my heart.” 158.3: “dogmad:” given that the Mookse is identified with an English pope and the English invasion he authorized, it’s pertinent that during wars with the French, English soldiers were known as “goddams.” 158.4: “obliviscent:” obsolescent 158.5: “I see, she sighed. There are menner:” 1. That’s men for you: a sad reflection on women’s lot in a man’s world where men are jerks; anticipates Issy’s lessons-of-life conclusion in II.2 about her future as a female in a world run by misters: “ours is mistery of pain” (270.22). 2. Still, good news/bad news: there are plenty of fish in the sea – many men to choose from, so let us hope that some are of a better caliber than these two. 158.6: “softzing:” soughing 158.10: “waste:” west 158.10-11: “coloroform:” chloroform 158.11: “citherior spiane an eulande:” I don’t know why Joyce singles out northern Spain (see McHugh), but compare the end of Portrait, chapter four: “Evening had fallen…the tide was flowing in fast to the land with a low whisper of her waves, islanding a few last figures in distant pools.” Dusk here is likened to a darkening tide, leaving a few still-illuminated spots highlighted like islands in the landscape, soon to be completely submerged in darkness and therefore a (French eau) waterscape. Compare Virginia Woolf’s The Waves, describing a similar effect: “Erratically rays of light flashed and wandered, like signals from sunken islands.” 158.12-3: “The Mookse had sound eyes right but he could not all hear:” appropriately for an invading army, this echoes military commands: Sound off; Eyes right; All hear this. “He could not all hear” is an example of German word order, probably because of associations with German militarism - ""right" will go on to match with "left," as in marching orders. 158.12-3: “The Mookse had sound a sound eyes right but he could not all hear. The Gripes had light ears left yet he could but ill see:” The seeing one is measured in sound, the hearing one in light years: yet another FW case of coinciding contraries. (Advantage, by the way, ears: the dreamer's listening apparatus described at the beginning of II.3 are "supershielded umbrella antennas for distance getting" (309.18-9), hearing signals from, theoretically, light years away.) 158.15: “Moo:” (papal) bull has become a cow. 158.16: “the undths:” possibly a groggy rendition of “his ens” (157.23: see note). 158.17: “scripes:” scribes. Again, like the Wife of Bath, the Gripes considers the Church’s clerks his natural enemies. 158.26: “chills:” chilblains. Also, cold – chilled - feet 158.27-8: “where he was spread:” as I.8 will confirm, the bishop’s apron is spread (and will be smacked, to help dry it out) across a rock, corresponding to Peter-petrus. 158.29: “solem and:” Solomon 158.30-31: “he had reason:” i.e. he’s now taken possession of the Gripes’ “raisins,” grapes. (See 154.31 and note.) 158.32: “to all important:” to all appearances (that she was a woman) 158.34: “as like it as blow it to a hawker’s hank:” Hamlet: “I am but mad north-north-west; when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.” 158.35-6: “in angeu from his limb:” angeu: Welsh for death. Also, anguish, anger. Compare the last lines of Joyce’s poem “Tilly:” “I bleed by the black stream / For my torn bough!” As here, a Spenserian metamorphosis: the tree from which a bough has been torn was once a (Shem, Gripes) living person. 158.36: “his beotitubes:” among others, the Patriarch of Jerusalem has been called “His Beatitude.” 159.1: “got wrong:” got (was) wrung, like laundry, or grapes in the winepress 159.4: “an only elmtree and but a stone:” overtone of the stale verbal formula “not only but also.” (How stale? It was the title of a 1960’s comedy program featuring Peter Cook and Dudley Moore.) 159.5: “O! Yes!:” Oyes!: court proclamation at beginning of proceedings 159.11-13: “come eon her and come on her and shew was stout and struck on dancing and her muddied name was Missisliffi:” for years to have “come on one” means that one has gotten old, or at least considerably older. She has become stout and middle (“muddied”) aged – a Mrs. (“muddied” is also married) not a Miss anymore: Mrs. Liffey. (A possibility here, I suggest, of one of FW’s countless figure-ground reversals: if her name was not Mrs. Liffey but something like Miss Ifliffey, that would explain why it was “muddied:” if she has as a past – all that dancing she was stuck on, for instance – or, in the words of “Adelaide’s Lament” from Guys and Dolls, “If she’s getting a kind of name for herself and the name ain’t his.”) 159.12: “struck on:” boats were prone to get stuck in the uneven, muddy bottom of the Mississippi. (Hence the need for depth-measurers and their measurings, for instance “Mark Twain.”) 159.13: “singult:” sanglot: French for sob, tear. 159.14: “who are ‘keen’ on:” why the scare quotes around "keen?" OED gives 1914 for the first appearance of the word in its slangy usage, so in the FW years it was still probably newfangledly infra dig to figures like the Mookse, whose not-amused voice makes a brief reappearance here. 159.15: “you meet by hopeharrods:” Joyce met Nora by haphazard. 159.16-7: “lapping as though her heart was brook:” laughing as if her heart would break. Also, as if, a river, she started from a brook. (According to I.8, she was a pool, then a brook.) 159.18: “I’se so silly to be flowing:” I’m so sorry to be going 159.19: “nattleshaker:” Oxford editors and McHugh both change to “rattleshaker.” Given context, probable overtone of “rattan,” a whip used on schoolchildren 159.22-3: “Joe Peters, Fox:” not just Jupiter (as in McHugh), but Jupiter, Rex – the king of the gods 159.25: “rations:” ratios – appropriate for a space-oriented lesson, for instance in geometry. Counterpoints the Gripes’ “raisins” 159.26: “by genius:” by Jesus! 159.27-8: “halfaloafonwashed…darling gem:” Oxford editors change “gem” to “germ.” Like the young (Jim) Joyce, the Gripes is unwashed. 159.30: “curillass:" scurrilous; curious 159.30: “slav:” “Stanislaus” is a Polish, that is Slavic, name; note “gem”/”germ” (Jim) at 159.28. 159.32-3: “Tristan da Cunha, isle of manoverboard:” not likely a coincidence that, in the words of Wikipedia, Tristan da Cunha is part of “the most remote inhabited archipelago in the world, 2,400 kilometres (1,500 mi) from the nearest inhabited island, Saint Helena” – in other words, just the place to exile a troublemaker, Napoleonic or otherwise. “Manoverboard,” presumably, because that’s how its few wayward inhabitants came to get there. Also, to quote Mink: “An American named Lambert declared himself sovereign…but drowned in 1812.” 159.34: “the meeting of the mahoganies, be the waves, rementious me:” the lecturer has turned into a free-associating professor-with-patches-on-his-tweed-jacket woolgatherer. To paraphrase: The mention of mahoganies (a mishearing of “manoverboard” (.32-3)), by the way, reminds me…etc. This digression continues into a digression-on-digression about trees, islands, islands on trees, and more. Islands, of course, are ("be the waves") by the waves. 159.36-160.1: “keep its boles clean:” keep his nose clean – behave, stay out of trouble. Schoolmarmish injunction to student 160.2-5: “ought to be classified, as two nurserymen advisers suggested, under genus Inexhaustible when we refloat on all the butternat sweet gum and manna ash redcedera so purvulent there:” “purvulent:” purulent: discharging pus, here compared to the exudations and other discharges of some trees. The main idea is that Inaccessible Island has so many trees oozing or shedding so much stuff that it ought to be called Inexhaustible. (Like Lenehan in Ulysses, the speaker has a defining weakness for lame wordplay.) Butternut (“butternat” (.4)) trees, for instance, produce a kind of walnut. “Nurserymen:” workers in a tree nursery. “Refloat:” reflect. “Redcedera:” probably a contraction of “redwood, cedar, etc.” 160.7-8: “that pinetacotta of Verney Rubeus where the deodarty is pinctured for us:” “pinctured:” pictured, tinctured. See McHugh: a deodar is a tree; “Under the Deodar” is a song by Paul Rubens, a turn-of-the-century songwriter for musicals. On the other hand, Peter Paul Rubens was a painter, as was Verney (original name: Claude-Joseph Vernet), the Pinacoteca is a Vatican gallery, and terracotta can be a form of visual art. In short, mixed media 160.9: “pure stand:” pure state. The lecturer is drifting into the topic of arboreal miscegenation and mongrelization. 160.9: “habitat:” tree-wise, a pure stand (see previous, McHugh) would be habitat. 160.10-3: “but without those selfsownseedlings which are a species of proof that the largest individual can occur at or in an olivetion such as East Conna Hillock where it mixes with foolth accacians and common sallies and is tender):” question: how to account for the presence of trees on these, the remotest of islands? By their seeds blowing in the winds, from one island to another, in the process sometimes creating mixed breeds. 160.11-12: “mixes with foolth accacians and common sallies:” dictionary definition of “false acacia:" “a tree of the same family as the true acacias…but of a different genus.” Also, fornications, producing, again, mixed (tree) breeds, product of intermingling – mixing – with common girls (or with false and foolish ones on false or foolish occasions): as at 36.27, “Sally” popularly meant an easily available young woman. (All this is reminiscent of the tree wedding of “Cyclops.”) 160.11-2: “the largest individual can occur at or in an olivetion such as East Conna Hillock:” the stressed “can” may be matter of protesting too much: after all, it’s a good bet that the elevation of even the highest hillock in Ireland’s East Conna would not be all that high. Also, “olivetion,” besides olive (tree), is Olivet (mention appears in “Telemachus”), a.k.a. Mount of Olives, from which Jesus (he may be the “largest individual”) ascended to heaven. Again, a case of provincial hubris: Bloom sardonically reflects about the Irish that “they appeared to imagine he [Jesus] came from Carrick-on-Shannon or somewhereabouts in the county Sligo.” 160.13: “common sallies:” common salt 160.14-5: “is tender) Vux Populus, as we say in hickory-hockery:” hic haec hoc: the Latin lessons (159.19-20) which make possible expressions such as (.13) (“Vux Populus” (.13)) vox populi. An emendation, included in McHugh, makes this clearer: insert a period after “tender),” and a new sentence begins “Vux Populus, as we say in hickory-hockery.” Still, this is not so much Latin as what was called dog Latin, which may be why (and if you don’t go along with this, I completely understand) the last two italicized words were “can” and “is” (.11, .13), Latin canis, dog. 160.18: “Daniel! If I weren’t a jones in myself:” although influential contemporary phonetician Daniel Jones was not Welsh (because of his name, he was sometimes taken for Welsh), Professor Jones, partly based on Wyndham Lewis, is still the speaker. Lewis’ origins were, apparently, Welsh (see note 151.23), the name “Jones” is to Wales what “Murphy” is to Ireland, the speaker brags about being “unenglish” (.22), and in the next paragraph we get “Wilsh…Wilsh” (.27-8). 160.19: “dolphin in the wildsbillow:” reflects Arion-and-dolphin story, parallel to Jonah-in-the-whale’s-belly (“wildsbillow”) story. (Also, “wildsbillow” is wheelbarrow – a more conventional means of transport.) It may seem a far fetch, but the echo of “Wales” in “whales” in “wildsbillow” apparently accompanies the inauguration (see previous entry) of a scattering of Welsh elements. 160.19: “barefooted rubber:” equal-opposites or paradox or just nonsense: if you’re wearing rubbers, you’re not barefooted. The same goes for (see next entry) socks. 160.20: “supersocks pulled over his face:” given the context, I suggest this describes a robber with a diaphanous stocking pulled over his head for disguise. Note coincidence-of-contraries effect with (“barefooted” (.19)) barefaced. 160.20: “publicked:” published. Daniel Jones (.19) published prolifically. 160.21: “laetification:” lactification: OED: “The making or secreting of milk.” In a cluster which gives us (see McHugh) meteorites, the iron in meteorites, and meteorites as shooting stars, this may draw the stars’ Milky Way into the picture. Given that Jones apparently considers “siderodromites” to be some unenlightened tribe or cohort which he will laetify, “edification” is probably part of the package as well. 160.24: “husky in my thoughts:” Christiani: version of Scandinavian “reminiscent in my truths” 160.28: “beyeind:” beyant, provincial Irish dialect for beyond; appears in “Scylla and Charybdis” 160.29: “as thick of thins udder:” being thick together, they will stick with one another through thick and thin. Probable overtone of "his brother" 160.29: “deblinite:” matched with “Faust,” the devil. Also, Dublin/Dubliner/Dublinite: along with Ulster’s Belfast (‘billfaust” (.27)), Munster’s Cork (“curks” (.27)), the west (“wist,” (.28)) of Connacht, completes the tally of all four (“allfore” (.33)) provinces. 160.29-32: “Sgunoshooto…sinjoro?:” if S. has a gun to shoot, no wonder they want to steer clear. Ironically, they start speaking Esperanto, created to be the universal language, on the (probably sound) assumption that it’s the one language he’s sure not to understand. 160.32-3: “where I am crying to arrive you at:” where I am trying to take you 160.33: “on allfore:” “on all fours:” occurs in “Eumaeus” in the sense of amounting to the same thing or being in cahoots with 160.36-161.1: “where even michelangelines have fooled to dread:” perhaps followers – Mitchelites and Mitchelines – of Irish activist John Mitchell, who certainly had no shortage of courage 161.2: “sotisfiction:” sottish fiction, for instance FW itself, remembering that “sottish” is a pejorative term for drunks and productions of same; compare Gabriel Conroy on Freddy Malins and his “sottish pound.” 161.3-4: “too frequently hypothecated Bettlermensch) is nothing so much more than a mere cashdime however genteel:” as noted before, attacks on Shem and Shem-types are frequently antisemitic; this one says that he’s a wannabe gentile, and goes on to accuse him of being an arriviste who sees everything in terms of money. 161.7: cash system:” apparently Jones’ version of the phrase “cash nexus,” in wide circulation at the time 161.8-9: “the dogmarks of origen on spurios:” probably a reference to Origen’s Contra Celsum, a repudiation of Celsus’ contention – spurious, according to Origen - that Jesus’s real father was a Roman centurion named Panthera. (Ironically enough, Origen is posterity’s sole source; if he’d kept quiet, we’d never have heard of it.) The Panthera story comes up in “Circe” and, in FW, at 244.33 and 565.19. Not clear to me what it has to do with the “this” in his assertion that “this is all contained” (.7-8) in Origen’s remarks, but then I don’t know what the antecedent for this “this” is, and suspect that Jones doesn’t either. Like many students, we are a bloviator’s captive audience and do not get to ask such questions. 161.10: “cheeps in your pocket:” chickens, i.e. pennies (compare 313.22) 161.12: “Burrus:” aside from the reference to Brutus, Burrus: Nero’s Pretorian henchman, representing the opposite of the regicidal Brutus 161.12: “Burrus and Caseous:” later to be joined by Antonius, making for an A B C triad. Joyce, as reported by Lucia, on this episode’s theological disputes: “All the grotesque words in this are russian or greek for the three principal dogmas which separate Shem from Shaun. When he gets A and B on to his lap C slips off and when he has C and A he looses [sic] hold of B.” Also, see 164.8 and note. 161.13: “selldear to soldthere:” to sell dear: to sell at a high price, whether at the expense of buyer or seller is not, I think, clear here; in any case, someone in the transaction has been “sold” - outfinagled and cheated. That the soldiers of WW I had all, in one way or other, been sold in this sense was at the time conventional wisdom, certainly shared by Joyce. 161.15-16: “a genuine prime, the real choice:” “prime” and “choice” are grades of beef, therefore productive of ("greace” (.16)) grease. Also, in some versions of Christianity, grace is inborn and separates the saved from the damned. Also: way over my head here, but “real prime,” in the higher reaches of mathematics, means, well, something. Given context, perhaps worth mentioning that in Dickens, especially Oliver Twist, “prime,” with a knowing look, signifies a born sucker. 161.16: “milkstoffs:” includes “toffs.” Butter and cheese are both milk-stuff. In Joyce’s time, a “milksop” was a weak-willed man. He is saintlier-than-thou, “obsoletely unadulterous” (.17): absolutely unavailable to adultery or any other adulteration (milk was sometimes watered – adulterated – by unscrupulous merchants) of obsolete no-fun strictures. Like one of the pallid clergymen peopling Victorian novels, he is also a real wet blanket, a laugh-extinguishing “risicide” (.17). Still - “yet” (.16) - his principles, obsolete or not, turn out to be impressively ironclad, enough to make him (like Brutus, or such stiff-necked sorts as Cromwell and Milton), willing enough and brave enough to commit regicide on behalf of the greater good. 161.18: “Caseous is obversely the revise:” obverse and reverse: front and back of a coin. So: 1. The brothers are two sides of the same coin. 2. As such, one is the opposite – reverse – of the other. (Although – yes – it is the same coin.) 3. No - actually, they’re the same, since the obverse is the reverse. 4. Or, actually again, Caseous is a revised version, a kind of later edition, of his brother. (Probably pertinent that cheese takes longer to make than butter.) 161.19: “betterman:” compare .3. 161.20: “meltingly addicted to the more casual side of the arrivaliste case:” butter melts. “Casual” and “case” both echo caseus, Latin for cheese. Jones, here, is softening – melting – as his thoughts go back to when he and his scapegrace brother were children together. 161.21: “zealous:” a coinciding-contraries word: he is jealous of his brother and zealous in his love for him. 161.22: “seeks and hidepence:” children’s game: Hide the Sixpence 161.23-6: “reading for our prepurgatory…in Acetius and Oleosus and Sellius Volatilis and Petrus Papricus:” they were studying, preparing for their lesson or exam on these ancient Romans – who also happen to have the names for vinegar (“Acetius:” acetic acid), oil, salt, and pepper – for the group salad bowl (“Slatbowel” (.27)) of their school’s “Commons” (.27), where, to translate freely, the headmaster, Father Salad, will add parsley, thyme, capers, and (of course), lettuce, perhaps also chopped hard-boiled eggs. (Perhaps also – “Murphybuds” (.29) – fingerling potatoes: compare 271.24.) 161.29-30: “a score and more of the hot young Capels and Lettucia:” the leap year girls (perhaps by way of “Capels” – “capall” is Gaelic for horse; so: fillies, a common term for attractive young women), plus Issy. (Other recognizable regulars: the father (“Pfarrer” (.27)), the twelve customers (“dozen of the Murphybuds” (.29)), the twins (“twinsome” (.30)). 161.30-1: “twinsome bibs but hansome ates:” one drinks (bibs), the other eats. 161.31: “shakespill and eggs:” “shakespill:” salt. (Spilling it is bad luck.) “An egg without salt” was proverbial for dullness; among other places the expression appears in “shakespill”’s The Winter’s Tale. 161.34: “down-to-the-ground benches:” raked, as in the lecture room of Portrait, chapter five 161.36: “make away with you:” as a teacher, make way with (even) you, with overtone of: do away with you 161.36: “Caesar:” sizar: see note to 150.9; also 160.1. 162.1: “(Tyrants, regicide is too good for you!):" Sic semper tyrannis! Compare note to 161.16. 162.3: “thunpledrum mistake:” thumping; overtone of kettledrum 162.4: “pienofarte:” reverting to original sense of pianoforte: quiet-loud, ranging from one end of the volume continuum to the other. The fart being let off recalls Bloom at the end of "Sirens" 162.5: “sort-of-nineknived:” overtone of “cat-o-nine-tails:” multi-strand (typically, nine leather strands) whip used in the British navy, which left knife-like marks on the back 162.7-8: “another of those souftsiezed bubbles who never quite got the sandhurst out of his eyes so that the campaign he draws for us is as flop as a plankrieg:” champagne has bubbles, or should: due to this man’s incompetence with such things – how to draw out a cork, for instance – his has gone flat. Your annotator dimly remembers hearing an expression to the effect that he/she couldn't get the sand out of his/her something-something. "Sand" is slang for grit or guts, as tested in military academies like Sandhurst. It is sorely lacking in ("souftsiezed bubbles") softies and boobies. Also, of course, an allusion to Joyce's and Shem's eye problems. At 463.27, Shem has "pebbled eyes," which may possibly refer to an eye condition called "cobblestones." Compare .31-1, where sand in the eyes becomes dust in the eyes. 162.8-9: “so that the champaign he draws for us is as flop as a plankrieg:” either because he’s been through Sandhurst or because he hasn’t, the proposals for battle campaigns he draws up are, as far as war plans go, flops. (These plans would have been drawn on flat maps.) 162.9: “plankrieg):” again, most authors would probably have inserted a comma after “).” A quick character-search through FW indicates that Joyce is exceptionally averse to commas after parentheses (for instance, at 6.7), even at times when, without the parenthesized passage, he probably would have inserted one; in other cases a comma will, eccentrically enough, occur before the parenthetical unit rather than after. (And then, for instance at .15, apparently ending a complete sentence, there’s “in Tobolosk)” – where’s the period before the “)“? Your annotator doubts that there is any consistent policy in this regard. 162.10: “reupprearance:” to re-enlist in the military is to re-up. 162.13: “prifixes:” prix fixe, as in a restaurant 162.13: “propper numen:” proper noun, that is, name – presumably “Fonnumagula” (or – see McHugh – “Fonnumagula” (.12)). O Hehir lists the first as either “Fionn Mac Cumhail,” that is, Finn McCool, or “Fionnghuala,” meaning “Fair-shoulders, heroine of Children of Lir.” 162.14: “Coucousien:” couscous? Long a popular feature of French restaurants 162.15: “sun of a kuk:” expression: son of a sea-cook – jocular curse-dodging insult. Around in Joyce's time. “Cook” would go with (“prifixes” (.13)) prix fixe, (“Coucousien”) couscous. 162.15: “as sattin as there a tub in Tobolosk:” spelled out, there is no “tub” in “Tobolosk.” 625.17: “weste point:” compare .8: “Sandhurst.” West Point is the American Sandhurst. 625.17: (“cheese it!):” underworld expression, mainly American, meaning: Run away! (“Cheese it! The cops!”) 162.18: “one onsens:” nonsense. (Maybe obvious) 162.19: “impossive as kezom hands:” expression: as easy as kiss-my-hand – that is, as easy as anything. “Impossive,” of course, suggests the opposite. 162.22-3: “roundered head that goes with thofthinking defensive fideism:” by the measurements of 19th century anthropology, round-headed “brachycephalic” ethnicities were mentally inferior to the long-headed “dolichocephalics,” for instance, typically, the English. (In “Telemachus,” Mulligan has an “equine” head.) Blowback from this school of thought extended at least into the late twentieth century, with populist resentment against “eggheads” and “highbrows;” the (as it happened, notably barchycephalic) George Wallace was fond of mocking “pointy-headed liberals.” The round-head here is not a sharp thinker. Compare next entry. 162.23-4: “the lac of wisdom under every dent in his lofter.” see preceding entry. Phrenologically, a cranial bump would show extra mental capacity corresponding to its respective region of the brain, a dent the opposite – that is, lack of wisdom. 162.25: “Onni vesy milky indeedmymy. Laughing over the linnuts and weeping off the unium:” Oxford editors have “indeedmum” instead of “indeedmymy.” Baby talk (or, actually, Jones's mocking imitation), as a sign of Burrus’ simple-mindedness; it will continue for the next few lines. (In “Circe,” Bloom, diagnosed as mongoloid, breaks into a similar patter.) And (see preceding entry), speaking of “lofter,” his sense of humor, like his sense of sorrow, was symptomatically simple: birds made him laugh, and onions, of course, made him cry. 162.27-8: “sim...semagen:” Shem, Shem again 162.28: “royally:” really 162.30-1: “Poutresbourg to be averlaunched over him pitchbatch:” throwing dust in his eyes; compare “what though the duthsthrows in his lavabad eyes” (240.16) and, in “Circe,” Mulligan’s “Ballad of Joking Jesus:” “To make the blind see I throw dust in their eyes.” 162.33: “younker:” young junker: music-hall expectations coming into play: an autocratic pedagogue of this time would, stereotypically, be German. (Thus, for instance, 163.5-7.) 162.35: “a king off duty:” compare “a god on pension” (24.18), in turn a variation of the common expression “like a lord on pension.” 163.2: “ormuzd:” utmost. “aliment:” i.e. food 163.3: “salm:” psalm, song 163.5: “the childhood:” I suggest this copies German construction der Kindheit; English speakers would just say “childhood,” with no definite article. In Joyce’s time, classroom pedagogues were stereotypically German to about the same degree that chefs were presumed French, and Jones’ performance, especially for this and the next two-three pages, reflects the presumption – e.g. .5-7. Compare: “Is das nicht ein katzerhaut?” Response: "Ya das ist ein katzerhaut!” 163.6: “Butterbrot:” I suggest a macaronic mishmash of English “blood-brother” and German “bludbruder” 163.8-11: “This in fact, just to show you, is Caseous, the brutherscutch or pur tyron: a hole or two, the highstinks aforefelt and anygo prigging wurms. Cheesugh! You complain. And Hi Hi High must say your are not Hoa Hoa Hoally in the wrong!:” perhaps obvious: some cheeses have holes (in which worms may be at work), and smell bad. (The young Joyce sometimes wore threadbare – even perforated – clothing (see, for instance, Ellmann (1984), p. 226), didn't bathe, and had vermin.) “Cheesugh!” (.10) is a disgusted – Jesus! Ugh! - reaction, especially to the smell. 163.9: puir:” puer: Latin for boy. 163.13-4: “dimeshow:” compare “Circe:” “The Deity ain’t no nickeldime bumshow.” 163.15-22: “I am...&.).: ”apparently an attempt to figuratively reconcile space and time, stasis and change, with an example of what Eliot in “Burnt Norton” calls “the still center of the turning world” - here the axis of a spinning top. “Smarter”(.18) signifies both a crisp, well-executed action – giving the top a spin – and intelligence, here ideally combined with the stolid steadiness of “bottom” (.21), as in, for example, Samuel Johnson's approval of a certain woman as having “a bottom of sound sense.” As elsewhere with the twins, body's top and bottom, head vs arse, are part of the conceit. 163.17: “old Nicholas:” Old Nick: the devil 163.23: “sinequam:” according to Oxford editors,” should be “sinequamnunc:” thus, as McHugh notes, echoing “sine qua non.” 163.25: “swoors:” Oxford editors insert this: “by his Father Familiaritas and his Mother Contumelia and by the soul in his suit and the animus in his mind and the mind in his animus and the good in his mind.” “Father Familiaritas” echoes Paterfamilias, Roman father as all-powerful head of the family; “Contumelia” (contumel: Latin for insult) suggests that the woman of the house may beg to differ. Latin animus is both hatred and mind. “Soul” may echo "hole;" see note to 163.8-11. In “Circe,” a prostitute solicits Bloom by asking, “Any good in your mind?” 163.26: “pointing start:” pointing stars: the two stars on the outer edge of Ursa Major are called “pointers” because they point to the North Star. I suggest this goes with Primum Mobile. 163.26-8: “whiles eggs will fall cheapened all over the walled the Bure will be dear on the Brie:” when I was a child, people would often jocularly say words to the effect of “I wonder how this weather will affect the price of eggs in China?” – a satirical version of what would later be called “the butterfly effect.” I can’t find any confirmation in Google Books, but this passage is, I think, saying that when the price of eggs falls in China (“the walled”) the price of butter will go up somewhere else in the world. Question: could “the Brie” be some (non-Asian) river? 163.31: “helixtrolysis:” helix: the kind of whirlpool pattern you get when you blend liquid ingredients with an eggbeater, especially an electrical one. As a Vorticist, Lewis considered such patterns the key to the dynamics of nature. Also, electrolysis applies electricity in order to heat and separate elements from one another or from source – for instance iron from ores. With Jones here, there is definitely an implicit sheep-from-goats message. 163.34: “both products of our social stomach:” milk and cheese both come from cows' stomachs: note “digesting” (.36), “munch” (164.1), cud” (164.2), and “cowrymaid”(.8). 164.1: “princeps:” may recall “principia” of 163.25: Newton's Principia 164.3: “delusional:” given context, perhaps overtone of dilution 164.4-6: “too males pooles, the one the pictor of the other and the omber the Skotia of the one, and looking wantingly around our undistributed middle between males:” I suggest that this continues the egg-beater pattern just remarked (163.31): the two whirling blades making two whirlpools, with a quiescent patch in between. Also, two indistinguishable male suitors, both desiring the woman between, especially her middle region. 164. 5-6: “wantingly:” wantonly 164.7: “waistfully:” wistfully 164.8: “the cowrymaid M.:” given this episode’s alphabetized theology (see 161.12 and note), I suggest that “M” stands for Mary, mother of Jesus. She gave birth in a barn, surrounded by cows (“The cattle are lowing” etc.), at the “precise hour which we shall…call absolute zero” (.9-10) – that is, the zero year between 1 BC and 1 AD. Also, an event in Church history: the 12th Century advent of what critics call Mariolatry, the new dispensation centered on Madonna-worship, which, according to Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis,” “the cunning Italian intellect flung to the mob of Europe.” Hardline Protestants think it amounted to making Mary a one-too-many fourth member of the Trinity – here, an M added to ABC. 164.11: “bubbling pumpt of platinism:” Neo-Platonists spoke of the Good, the Beautiful, etc. as an endlessly overflowing fountain, here a babbling bubbling overflowing pump. (The boiling point of platinum, by the way, is 6917 degrees Fahrenheit, one of the highest for the elements and obviously a long distance from “absolute zero” (.10).) Given idealized version of the proposed relationship here, there’s probably an overtone of “Platonic.” 164.11-2: “son of a kish:” son of a bitch 164.14: “Margareen:” margarine, considered a cheap and inferior substitute for butter, hence low-class; In “Lestrygonians,” Bloom sums up the diet of impoverishment as “potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes.” Throughout FW, Issy's maid/companion/double Marge is her social inferior. The margarine of Joyce's time would not have contained milk or any milk product, and would have been not yellow (like the butter-blond Issy) but white like lard. 164.15-6: “shamebred music:” a pun in “Sirens” seems to confirm the story that the title of Joyce's poetry collection Chamber Music referred to the tinkling sound of female urination in a chamber pot. As chambermaid, Marge, like Nora when Joyce met her, would have been in charge of the chamber pot. 164.17-8: “plumply pudding the carp before doevre hors:” normally, a proper dinner would be preceded by hors d'oeuvres (here imitatively reversed); fish – carp - would follow soup as the second item on the menu; (plum) pudding would be next-to-last, before nuts. Given context, “carp” is surely an anagram for "crap" (compare 185.17) – as, so to speak, the inevitable terminus of the dining experience that began with those hors d'oeuvres. “Plumply:” compare 148.28-9 and note. 164.19: “cream:” as verb, to ejaculate – here, probably in a wet dream 164.24: “Caseous:” gaseous 164.24: “Burrus's bit is often used as a toast:” toast is often buttered, and originally one “toasted” something or someone by first dipping a bit of toast in a glass of wine. 164.26: “streak of yellow silver:” referring back to “Still in the bowl is left a lump of gold!:” strands of yellow hair still showing on a greying head. See next entry. 164.28: “blanchemanged:” in context, a white and mangy head of hair 164.33: “the aria:” air exists in space; an aria exists in time. 164.36: “her temporal diaphragm:” OED to the contrary, Google Books shows “diaphragm” being used in the sense of contraceptive device at least as early as 1922. Otherwise known as a pessary 165.1-7: “attack…Bdur!:” here we go again: blow-job solicited and then declined in favor of masturbation. Double-entendres throughout. “Arouse thee, my valour!” - addressed to his penis in an aria in “Bdur!,” which may be B flat major in German but in English-French can translate as “Be hard!” (See 164.36 and note: neither oral sex nor masturbation requires birth control.) 165.4-5: “to cluse her:” see 147.29-30 and note. 165.9: "orchidectural:” orchids, agricultural: as the following will show, the concert hall is doubling with a greenhouse. 165.10: “one plant’s breaf is a lunger planner’s byscent:” the exhalation of plants supplies the air for those with (“lunger”) lungs – i.e. animals, e.g. “planner’s”/planters: oxygen/carbon dioxide cycle of plants and animals. “Breaf:” breath; “byscent:” perhaps something like scent-as-byproduct: what’s extraneous to one is essential to the other. Time-wise, “breaf” counterpoints with “lunger:” brief, longer. 165.11: “you may not care for argon:” argon is a major constituent of Earth’s atmosphere but not essential for either plants or animals. 165.12: “for the emolument:” for the moment 165.16: “Needlesswoman:” needlewoman: an early occurrence of Issy as tailor’s daughter, sewing a dream together 165.18: “bush:” in American slang, short for “Bush League,” i.e. second-rate. “Bush” also probably equals vagina: again, the page is full of sexual double-entendres. Also, “bush” is an idiom for the relatively unsettled parts of Australia; I don’t know why it shows up here, but it’s accompanied by two distinctive Australian animals, kangaroo and wallaby (.20, .21). 165.20-1: “wallop bound…congorool teal:” both wallabies and kangaroos use their tails to jump around. 165.21: "zulugical:" Zulu plus zoological 165.27: “bluebutterbust:” perhaps bludbruder again (compare 163.6) – Jones has just knocked off his rival’s brother – but the main echo is of “blunderbuss,” Jones’s point being that the professor’s productions are scattershot, as opposed to the single shot of his own ("coupe de grass" (.27)) coup de grace. 165.29-30: “boîte à surprises:” OED’s first occurrence of “box” for vagina is 1942 – which very likely means that it had been in circulation for a while already. 165.31: “pourbox:” pourboire: tip 165.32: “foolproof and pryperfect:” can’t be forced open 165.35: “movibile tectu:” mirabile dictu: wonderful to relate 165.35-6: “have…slade off:” “to have a slate off:” slang for “to be not all there,” to be at least somewhat crazy 166.1-2: “place:” please 166.4: “have…of:” that is, I’ve sized her up, taken her measure 166.9: “hemming:” as in “hem and haw.” Also, given context: to hem a dress 166.10-11: “free benches:” legally, a free bench is “a widow’s dower out of lands held by customary tenure for customary estates of inheritance.” Also: in context, it seems here to mean a free-of-charge seat in a public place: some parks in London and elsewhere - Paris, for sure - charge or used to charge fees. 166.15: “on the verge of the gutter:” 1. familiar phrase for those in danger of becoming alcoholics, addicts, prostitutes, etc. 2. A nursemaid is holding her mistress’s little boy over the gutter so that he can urinate and thus “make matters [waters] worse” (.19), even less palatable than before. 166.15-6: “bobbedhair brieffrocked babyma’s:” i.e. flapper’s features – bobbed hair, short dresses, girlish/boyish figure. Most if not all of the fads and fashions ridiculed in this paragraph come from the 1920’s. 166.20: “Pules:” cries childishly 166.21: “her ‘little man:’” again, with the supercilious scare quotes – probably refers back to her 1920s-ish enthusiasm for “’childe’” (Charlie) Chaplain (.14), another favorite of the time 166.26: “musculink:” given context, penis. “Link” as in sausage link. She’s a lesbian pretending to be a girly-girl woman by way of her constant male attendant, but when it comes down to it this so-called male lacks the vital male organ, as, if it comes to that, does she. 166.31: “velly:” given “eastasian import” in next line, “velly” is probably stage-Chinese for “very.” See next entry. 166.31-4: “velly fond of chee. (The important influence exercised on everything by this eastasian import has not been till now fully flavoured though we can comfortably taste it in this case. I shall come back for a little more say farther on.):” given Chinese element (see previous entry), I suggest “chee” here equals opium, imported from eastern Asia. Cassell’s Dictionary of Slang has “yen-shee” or “yen-chee” meaning “opium” or “opium residue,” and some other sources corroborate. Because by itself opium’s taste is extremely bitter, liquid “flavoured [or “flavored”] opium” was marketed, especially for children; the sample just tried by Jones, though not flavored enough for his taste, is still sufficiently palatable for him to want more – say, further on. (Most writers would have set “say” off with commas.) Taking opium certainly exercises an “influence” on “everything.” (On the other hand: cha is Chinese for tea, and most of what I’ve just said on behalf of the opium hypothesis could apply equally well to tea. Maybe it’s both. But then, see 167.2 and note. And, why would the fact of anyone’s fondness for tea make anyone else say “alick and alack?” (.30)) 166.34: “cleopatrician:” again: male/female. Cleopatra, patricius 166.36: “her misstery:” again, again: male/female: miss/mister; master/mistress; his mastery over her or her over him (or them). Compare Issy’s Swinburnian lament on woman’s lot: “ours is mistery of pain” (270.22). 167.2: “refined chees:” back to the opium hypothesis (166.31-4 and note): raw opium must be “refined” for sale. 167.3: “wags an antomine art of being rude like the boor:” “wags:” wages. The secondary meaning of “antinomian” (McHugh) – rejecting social norms – could easily lead one to being rude. Lewis certainly qualified. 167.3: “grouptriad:” Triumvirate - presumably, since it includes Mark Antony, the Second. (This Antony, opportunistically and no doubt temporarily, is in an alliance with the assassins of the First Triumvirate’s Julius Caesar.) Not likely a coincidence that it happened during the advent of the triad of the Trinity 167.6: “economantarchy:” rule by 1. “economic man,” a phrase tracing to Adam Smith, and 2. iconomachia, the Byzantine conflict between iconoclasts and iconodules. (McHugh traces the “green” and “blue” of .11 to “contending green & blue factions in C 6 Constantinople.”) The Tantum Ergo (“tantum ergons” (.7-8)) is recited in veneration – not consumption – of the Host, a celebration which both economic man and any iconodule would find ridiculous. (In “Nausicaa,” the Tantum Ergo is being sung while Bloom gazes on Gerty but does not touch her.) 167.8: “golfchild’s:” godchild’s 167.10: “phatrisight:” given context, “fratricide” seems as likely as “patricide.” Also, the head of the Eastern Orthodox Church – more Byzantine material – is a Patriarch. 167.11: “green…blue:” unripe and ripe cheese, respectively 167.12: “screen:” given context, a cheese screen – a sieve used in making cheese. Also, penitent and priest communicate through a screen. 167.12: “appealing:” appearing 167.13: “acropoll:” high head. (Pertinent here that Athens and the Acropolis were once part of the Byzantine Empire; compare next entry.) 167.14: “blesphorous:” the Bosphorous – goes with this paragraph’s Byzantine strain 167.15: “painapple:” compare McHugh. Google Books indicates that a WW I “pineapple” was a fragmentation grenade, not a bomb. 167.16: “the cong in our gregational:” William Archibald Spooner’s best-known spoonerism, delivered to a church congregation, was “Kinkering Congs Their Titles Take.” 167.18: “Topsman to your Tarpeia:” 1. See McHugh. It would be poetic justice if a hangman were executed in turn, by being thrown onto the Tarpeian Rock. 2. Comparing you (Shem) to me (Shaun) is just Hyperion to a Satyr: I am high up in all senses and you are the lowest of the low. A “topman” is a sailor elevated above the ship in a “topcastle,” or kind of crow’s nest; the Tarpeian Rock is where you are when you hit bottom. (According to the OED, another meaning of “topman” is “topsawyer” (3.7); Shem is the “bottom sawyer” (173.29-30).) 167.19: “taking off soutstuffs:” talking of (McHugh) Sauerstoff, oxygen – back to the elements, his (intermittent) subject on pages 163, 164. Like Spooner and other absent-minded professors, he is prone to wander in his discourse. Plus, he’s hysterical. 167.19-21: “alkalike matters, I hope we can kill time to reach the salt because there’s some forceglass neutric assets:” alkaline, acids 167.20: “forceglass:” a forcing glass – used to grow some first-class (“pottage” (.22)) potted plants 167.22: “The thundering legion has stormed Olymp:” latter-day triumph of Christianity over paganism. The “Thundering Legion” was so named by Marcus Aurelius, the next-to-last pagan emperor, because, composed of Christians, it prayed for rain, had its prayers answered (with rain and, yes, thunder), thus saving the emperor’s army from dying of thirst; he thereupon ended his persecutions. Also, the Titans, led by Typhon, stormed Olympus, trying to overthrow Zeus’s new regime, which, though hardly a case of (“Demoncracy”) democracy taking “the highmost” (highest mount – (.25)), was, relatively, less absolutist than Typhon’s. 167.23: “Merus:” given proximity of (“Olymp” (.22)) Mount Olympus: Mount Meru, sacred to Hinduism and Buddhism as the center of the universe. (Also, title of a poem by Yeats) 167.23: “Carious Caseous:” “carious,” a word usually applied to decayed teeth, derives from Latin careo, to be without, as in, full of holes: again, with “Caseous,” cheese, the holes in some cheese – see 163.8-11. 167.26: “Those old diligences are quite out of date:” a diligence was a public stage-coach, certainly out of date by Joyce’s time. 167.27: “Bigtempered:” Bigtimer. (See 37.14, 298.24.) 167.29: “exponse:” see McHugh for “exspouse” variant. O Hehir has Latin exspondeo, to disavow or divorce – that is, to make a spouse an ex-spouse. 167.31: “Wamen:” Amen. Warning. (To women against men, to men against women. Possible allusion to Middleton’s Women Beware Women) 167.32: “The ring man in the rong shop:” in a wedding, the ring man would be either the best man or the groom himself. “In the wrong shop:” to be seriously in error or out of line 167.32: “the rite words in the rote order!:” “the right words in the right order:” definition of good writing, usually attributed to Swift 167.34-5: “fulmoon:” fulmen: Latin for thunder/lightning; fulmination 168.1: “humself:” himself: Irishism for self-important other 168.2: “lave his head:” save his head. (The exile has left home to save his life.) 168.2: “his hope’s in his highlows:” see McHugh: highlows are boots. Plays off various expressions to the effect that one’s hopes have fallen – to the level of one’s shoes, one’s boots, the ground. Instead of "My heart's in the highlands," it's in my boots. 168.6: “four-in-hand:” from Thomas Campbell’s “The Exile of Erin:” “In a far foreign land I awaken.” 168.6-7: “four-in-hand…my own breastbrother, my doubled withd love:” allusion to Claddagh ring – two hands (but here, including both two-handed brothers, four) holding a heart. (“Heart” shows up at .12, being broken in half.) Frequently appears in the vicinity of the brothers - as here, a token of reconciliation. Oxford editors replace “withd” with “width.” 168.8: “bread by the same fire and signed with the same salt:” bread and salt: traditional tokens of hospitality. Also, Dante, on exile: “You shall learn how salt is the taste of another’s bread.” In “Telemachus,” Stephen, contemplating his dependency on Mulligan, who has paid the tower’s rent: “Now I eat his salt bread.” 168.9: “tapped:” one “taps” a keg; metaphorically, to tap someone is to “touch” him for a loan. In “Aeolus,” Hynes will “tap” the cashier for his salary. 168.10-1: “homogallant:” with some squinting, could be a dog-Latin construction for milkman/man-milk, with overtones of "homo" as same and “gallant” as gallon (of milk; compare 187.13, where the wordplay works the other way): takes us back to the (here, rejected) premise that butter and cheese, being both made from milk, are, like the brothers, essentially the same. 168.11: “bum and dingo, jack by churl:” two sets of near-equivalents 168.12: “hate:” have 168.18: “Semus:” perhaps: Séamus: a common and sometimes stereotypical Irish name, the Gaelic equivalent of James. Its meaning? According to Wikipedia, “He supplanted.” James Joyce was his family’s oldest child because before him the infant christened John died shortly after childbirth. 168.11: “jack by churl:” Jack and Jill 169.1: "Shemus:" at one moment in "Circe" we hear that "Jewgreek is greekjew," and this seems in the same vein: "Seamus" as Gaelic for James, "shamus" as Yiddish for, according to Leo Rosten's The Joys of Yiddish, the caretaker of a synagogue, a menial functionary, a private detective, a sycophant, a stool pigeon, and the ninth candle of the menorah, used to light the others.
169.1: “jem is joky:” Jam es Joyce 169.2: “aboriginally:” as Clive Hart points out, in this chapter and elsewhere in FW Shem is southern hemisphere to Shaun’s northern – specifically, from Australia, land of the aborigines. Race will be a major consideration in this chapter. In Genesis, Noah's three sons are Ham, Shem, and Japhet - progenitors, respectively, of blacks, Jews, and Gentiles. Ham, having seen his father's nakedness, is sentenced to be the servant of the other two. In general, FW combines Ham with Shem as one entity, opposed to the fairhaired Shaun. (The three-two motif, repeatedly associated with the twins (see, for instance, 10.6 and note) probably signals the adjustment: a shadowy third party keeps hovering in the vicinity.) To be an anti-Semite is to be anti-Shem, and in fact Shem is frequently the target of antisemitic slurs, sometimes intermixed with similar language against Africans, African-Americans, or, here, aborigines: Shem, Ham, "Sham" (170.24). To some extent, Ulysses has anticipated: in "Cyclops," the song sung against Bloom, "If the Man in the Moon Was a Coon," becomes "If the Man in the Moon Was a Jew." 169.3: “between the lines:” expression: reading between the lines 169.4: “Horrild Hairwire:” “Horrid” originally meant bristly. It has this meaning in the writings of, for instance, Spencer and Milton. Also, “There’ s hair, like wire…:” line from music-hall song, frequent in FW 169.5: “Blogg:” blague: French: facetiousness 169.11-2: "an eight of a larkseye:" as caged songbirds, larks were blinded to make them sing better. The many operations on Joyce's eyes (especially the left, the better of the two) sought to salvage a usually decreasing fraction of capacity for vision - here, perhaps, an eighth of the normal range. 169.12-3: "one numb arm up a sleeve:" Ellmann (1984), p. 535: "This had started arthritic pains in his right shoulder and left the deltoid muscle in his right arm atrophied." 169.13: “fortytwo:” a recurring number, for instance at 177.26. Why? (432, traditional year of Patrick’s arrival in Ireland, is another. Connection to Oedipus’ 4-2-3 riddle? See, for instance, 170.5.) 169.13: “mock lip:” possible allusion to Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes story “The Man With the Twisted Lip,” about a (well-off) beggar who disfigures his lip in order to increase donations 169.14: “a trio of barbels from his megageg chin:” Joyce occasionally sported a (sparse) beard on his chin. “Megageg” doubtless signals goat, as in goatee: in “Circe” a goat shows up and goes “Megagaggegg.” 169.16: “tongue with a natural curl:” a “curled tongue” is used in pronouncing a lingual r. Joyce’s “Anna Livia Plurabelle” recording includes examples. 169.16: “not a foot to stand on:” expression for someone completely in the wrong: not a leg to stand on. Here, not even a foot 169.18: “gleetsteen:” cf. 72.27 and note: “glatt stones” 169.19: “salmonkelt’s:” a spent, post-spawning fish is a “kelt.” 169.19: “thinskin:” thin-skinned: oversensitive to comments related to oneself 169.19: “eelsblood in his cold toes:” i.e. with cold feet – prone to back down 169.20: “bladder tristended:” twisted bladder: rare, but real, medical condition 169.23-4: “Old Hoeland:” Old Holland. In “Eumaeus,” “old Hollands” is gin. Also, given “garden nursery” (.23), ancestral, pastoral land of hoes and hoeing 170.1: “annas and annas:” years and years 170.3: “dinar!...jo!:” Dinah and (Old Black) Joe: once generic names for African-American female and male; variants will be appearing through this chapter. 170.3: “dictited:” dictated plus indited 170.4: “little brothron and sweestureens:” broth served in tureens. Expression: “broth of a boy.” Also, little girls are sweet. 170.5: “when is a man not a man?:” I suggest that this is a backwards version of Oedipus’ Riddle of the Sphinx. Also, another old riddle: “When is a door not a door? When it is ajar.” 170.6-7: “till the tide stops (for from the first his day was a fortnight:)” spring and neap tides occur on a two-week (fortnight) cycle. 170.7: “bittersweet crab:” I grew up in a region (Oregon) where crab apples were plentiful. They are bittersweet. They are also said to cause indigestion, and at .11 the “he” of this sequence is (“gnawstick”) crawsick. Compare note to .16. 170.7-9: “a little present from the past, for their copper age was yet unminted:” in other words, the Stone Age (therefore: the “little present” is a rock): the Copper Age came next. Apparently, he couldn’t (yet) even give them pennies. 170.14: “lovely wooman:” woman wooed by wooing man; perhaps also-alternatively the man too 170.15: “when pappa papared the harbour:” perhaps because in the song (see McHugh) Papa got himself so covered with paste and paper that he couldn’t be recognized. Oxford editors have “papered” for “papared.” 170.16: “when he yeat ye abblokooken and he zmear hezelf zo zhooken:” see .7 and note: another variation on the sequence’s apple theme; here, I suggest, as a result of eating the (semi-digestible) crab apple, he has fouled his pants. “Yeat:” an allusion to a Yeats poem, "When You Are Old and Grey" (.17-8) will follow; such juxtapositions, proximate or approximate, are fairly common in FW’s lists. 170.18: “when we deader walkner:” “when the ghost walks:” theatre expression meaning “when we’re paid.” Sometimes ironic, meaning never, like (see .20-1) “when pigs fly.” Also, unlaid ghosts are conventionally said to walk. 170.19: “after having been semisized:“ cut in half. Maybe an allusion to Solomon-and-baby story? Also, semitize: to make Semitic. To have recently been circumcised (therefore semitized) is to be vulnerable: in Genesis the males of Shechem submit to circumcision and, being “sore,” are easily killed by Jacob’s sons. Obviously, being circumcised makes one, if not half a man, relatively less of one. 170.22: “took the cake:” OED: “cakewalk:” “A black Americans’ contest in graceful walking, with a cake as a prize.” More generally, to exceed all expectations, often in an outlandish way 170.28: “friskiest parr:” reputed to have fathered an illegitimate child when over 100 years old, Old Parr was certainly frisky. 170.30: “botulism:” catechism. Also, Greek βότρυς: (wine) grapes. In vino veritas 170.33: “blueblooded Balaclava fried-at-belief-stakes:” Balaclava was the site of the Charge of the Light Brigade, for disenchanted post-Victorians (Gladstone makes an appearance in the previous line) a touchstone for lunatic slaughter, British department. Victorians and their gung-ho successors considered English roast beef (see 171.1) a foundation of imperial prowess; in “Circe,” “beef” is one of the “eight beatitudes,” that is, British “B-attitudes.” “Fried-at-belief:” in its origin, the Crimean War was to some extent presented, to be sure bogusly, as a religious war. Also, as in “Hades,” “Roastbeef for old England” is Irish beef, filched by imperial masters from their correspondingly underfed subjects. Finally, in Joyce’s day, a “beefsteak” – for instance at New York’s Delmonico’s – was a ruling-class pig-out, the main point of which was to try to conspicuously eat more beef than anyone else. 170.35: “grunters:” pigs – here, tinned pork 171.1: “greekenhearted yude!:” compare “Circe:” “Jewgreek is Greekjew. Extremes meet.” May allude to Matthew Arnold’s breakdown of western culture into Hellenism and Hebraism; according to Ellmann, Joyce essentially concurred. (Long shot: “The Forsaken Merman” is a poem by Arnold, and at .3 we get “merman.”) “Yude” also echoes youth 171.3: “somatophage merman:” query: if a merman eats fish, is he a cannibal? See next entry. 171.3-4: “virgitarian swan:” in “Lestrygonians” Bloom, reflecting that seabirds live on fish, wonders what “swanmeat” tastes like. (Second query: considering that, would eating it on a meatless Friday pass muster? Shem, a “piscivore” (.8), has taken a fancy to it.) Swanmeat was once considered a delicacy. 171.6: “Europe…meddle:” Middle Europe. The Austro-Hungarian Empire, for instance; living in Trieste, Joyce was a resident, having abandoned “Irrland” (.6). 171.8-10: “hiccupping…glottal stop:” a glottal stop – for instance in “Uh-oh!” – can sound like a hiccup. 171.10: “kukkakould:” hiccupping, caused by inebriation 171.12: “with limon on:” lemon peel added as garnish to a cocktail. Shem is like a martini drinker joking that he gets his nutrition from the olives. 171.13: “firewater:” conventionally-stereotypically, American Indian term for liquor. (Again, Shem as aborigine.) See next entry. 171.14: “gulletburn gin:” of all distilled spirits, straight gin is the most likely to cause heartburn. (Hence martinis: the vermouth is said to “buffer” the gin.) 171.14: “brewbarrett:” (brewed) beer barrel 171.15: “tragic jester:” theatre’s laugh and cry masks; Bruno’s motto “in tristitia hilaris, in hilaritate tristis” 171.18: “sedimental cupslips:” i.e. the lees or heeltaps: gritty sediment at the bottom of the wine bottle. Also: getting drunk, he’s waxing sentimental. 171.18: “cupslips:” “in his cups:” i.e. intoxicated. Also: cowslip wine. Given Shem’s preference in wine (see .20 and note), it’s probably not coincidental that in the next chapter Issy/Liffey begins as a “slip” (202.27) taking (liquid) form from the urine of a (“coo” (.204.18)) cow astride her. Cowslips, as we are reminded at 577.27, are yellow. 171.18: “sour grapefruice:” sour grapes. Recollection of the grapes-Gripes of I.6. Also, served without sugar, grapefruit tastes sour. Also, of course, wine is fermented grape juice. This includes communion wine: compare 261 fn. 3: "Groupname for grapejuice." 171.20: “withswillers:” fellow swillers 171.20: “retching off:” throwing up as a result of drinking too much. Here, also seems to mean something like “spilling his guts” – boozily blithering in an obnoxious way, for instance, to absolutely no one’s edification, confiding that (like Joyce) he thinks of his favorite wine as an archduchess’s urine. 171.24: “noble white fat, jo, openwide sat:” both her fat arse and the toilet seat she plunks it down on. (For purposes of producing Shem’s urinous wine) 171.25: “most serene magyansty az:” the emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire was officially called “His Most Serene Majesty.” As McHugh notes, “magyansty” incorporates “Magyar, Hungarian,” and “az” is Hungarian for “the.” 171.26: “douches:” duck-ess, duchess. See .20 and note. 171.27: “feherbour:” a bout of fever. (German Fieber: fever) 171.28: “Fanny:” English vulgarism for vagina, here the source of (compare note to .20), the archducess's urine, Joyce's term for his favorite white wine. See also note to .24, above. 171.28: “Fanny Urinia:” F. U. (Compare 429.27.) 171.31: “blacking beetle:” bottle of boot blacking. (Given his appearance at 177.35, it’s remotely possible that Dickens, with his blacking-factory trauma (common knowledge by Joyce’s time; Joyce’s essay on Dickens notes “his dismal, squalid childhood”), is in the picture here.) 171.31: “snap…kodak shotted:” snapshot; Shem is (.33-4) “gun and camera shy.” (Some young readers may not know that “kodak” was a generic term for camera.) 171.32-3: “unremuneranded:” unremanded: unaccountably not in prison 171.33-4: “gun…shy:” “gun-shy:” cowardly 171.34-5: “Caer Fere, Soak Amerigas:” carefree; Cape Fear: North Carolina promontory off “the Graveyard of the Atlantic.” If Shem thinks it’s either a safe haven or in South America he is, perhaps because (“Soak”ed), drunk, very confused. Fugitives from Ireland – to some extent from all of Europe – proverbially sought refuge in the Americas. 171.35: “shipsteam:” “Telemachus:” “All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream.” (“Gulfed” has shown up at .19.) Steam or no steam, from Ireland it would carry a ship to the Americas. 171.36: “by the wrong goods exeunt:” phrase: wrong end up. Presumably the hatchet’s business end should have been pointed up, not down. 172.3: “bad fast:” “bedfast,” bed-ridden 172.3-4: “on the spot:” certainly seems like a misplaced modifier, one that belongs after (.2) “she knew.” (Not, according to the record, a genetic mistake. Not likely Joyce’s. Maybe the narrator’s - like for instance, the first sentence of “The Dead:” “Lily, the caretaker’s daughter, was literally run off her feet.”) 172.7: “spring meat:” “springers:” cows in calf 172.8: “draws, quarters:” drawing and quartering as form of execution 172.8: “lambs:” limbs 172.14-5: “blanketed creditors:” because asleep in bed; perhaps also – blanked - unpaid 172.18-20: “He would not put fire to his cerebrum; he would not throw himself in Liffey; he would not explaud himself with pneumantics; he refused to saffrocake himself with a sod.:” Four elements; four ways of committing suicide: shooting (“fire”-ing) himself in the head; drowning himself in water; pneumatically – airily - blowing himself up; choking himself with sod, from the earth. For the last of these, it’s perhaps pertinent that during the Famine, some Irish ate or tried to eat sod. Compare 127.5-6. 172.20: “saffrocake:” simnel cakes, which in “Hades” Bloom calls “Cakes for the dead,” are traditionally saffron-flavored; in some sources “saffron cake” and “simnel cake” are interchangeable. 172.21: “diddled even death:” compare later “diddies in one dedal” (179.16): overtone of (Stephen) Dedalus 172.22-3: “Anzi…Nearapoblican:” Anzio is near to Naples – also, not that far (32 miles) from Rome, from which Joyce wrote or cabled to his brother Stanislaus asking for money. 172.22-3: “Guardacosta leporello?:” Don Giovanni’s Leporello is certainly his coast-is-clear watch. 172.24: “tomory:” to marry 172.25: “spluched:” “spliced:” married: cf. 197.13. (When in Italy and Trieste, James and Nora were not married except in the common-law sense.) 172.25: “Fireless:” under the circumstances, if this is Joyce, begging, signing off as “Fearless,” it shows a good deal of his characteristic gall. 172.28: “tom and shorty:” Tom and Jerry, characters created by Pierce Egan. Also, the name of a cocktail 172.28: “bardic memory:” source of a culture’s history, poetry, etc. in pre-literate times, presumed to require prodigious powers of memory – which, to be sure, Joyce had in overplus. 172.31: “Munda conversazione:” OED: “conversazione:” “a scholarly social gathering held for discussion of literature and the arts,” following the tradition of French salons. In Victorian-Edwardian times it was fashionable to convene them weekly and refer to them by the day chosen, here Monday. This one, “held in the nation’s interest” (.31-2) – and, “Munda,” the world’s as well - seems exceptionally high-minded, and, in relation to the heterodox, malodorous Shem, approaching what today might be called an intervention. (Compare the gathering in “Grace.”) Your annotator believes that FW is set on a Monday (more specifically, Monday, March 21, 1938, and the morning after), the traditional washing day – as will become clear in the next chapter. See next three items. 172.32: “delicate tippits:” see previous entry. A tippet, usually of wool or (if “delicate”) silk, needs special attention when going through the wash. 172.33: “wellwishers:” overtone of “washers” in “wishers” 172.34: “scriptural arguments with the opprobrious papist:” trying to bring Shem back to the (Irish) Catholic fold, an appropriate papist, for instance a priest, would be called for, as part of the campaign to salvage this opprobrious ex-papist. Again, compare “Grace,” where the stated purpose is for them all to “wash the pot.” 172.35: “to brace up for the kidos of the thing, Scally wag and be a men:” again: as in “Grace,” the idea is to get him to say “amen,” if only for the sake of the kids (you’re their father! Be a man!) or, failing that, the kudos. 172.36: “dem:” consistent with the sequence here, aristocrat-stage-English. In Dickens’ Nicholas Nickleby, the degenerate lord Sir Mulberry Hawke’s defining curse is not “damn” or “damn me” but “demme!” 173.1: “sousy:” a souse is a drunk. 173.1: “that continental expression:” islanders’ (English or Irish or ascendancy Irishers’) sardonic/sarcastic allusion to Shem’s/Joyce’s pretentiously continental ways 173.2: “transpiciously:” transparently suspicious 173.2: “canaille:” the point is that this was indeed, for the Parisian hoity-toities to whose eminence Shem/Joyce pathetically aspired, the standard put-down for the lowborn - such as, if he only knew, himself. 173.3: “kennel:” like it or not, according to them, you’re a dog, one of the kennel, one of the canaille, yourself. 173.4: “your rural troubadouring:” it never happened, but at one time Joyce was planning a concert tour, singing Elizabethan ditties, through (rural, non-Dublin) Ireland 173.6-7: “out of the one corner of his mouth:" “out of the corner of the mouth:” that is, surreptitiously, insinuatingly - e.g. “You want to see some feelthy peectures?” 173.8: “supreme prig:” as pig, follows up on “Swine” (.6) – but Joyce did in fact have his priggish side; Ellmann records that he could be exceptionally prudish in the presence of ladies. 173.9-10: “root with earwaker’s pensile in the outer of his lauscher:” tradition that earwigs enter the ear and burrow into the brain. As McHugh notes, lauscher is German for listener. 173.11: “prattlepate:” addle-pated 173.11: “swatting:” an English idiom: what Americans would call cramming, for an exam. Here, the test will be of his qualifications to pass as an English gentleman. (He will, of course, flunk.) 173.12: “canopies:” possible echo: agonies 173.12: “Jansens Chrest:” Irish Catholicism was highly influenced by Jansenism, perhaps its most puritanical manifestation. 173.15: “conclamazzione:” popes are chosen at a conclamazione of cardinals. 173.16: “pollititians:” politicians are elected at the polls. 173.18: “philanthropicks lodging on as many boards:” boards of directors. Then as now, membership on many such boards was a mark of establishment legitimacy. (So was/is public philanthropy.) 173.21: “sods:” facetious Briticism: “short for “sodomites,” meaning, more or less pejoratively, blokes 173.22: “blunderguns:” blunderbuss: 18th century gun, noted for its inaccuracy, but, because of its scattershot charge, able to do great damage at short range. Thus, a primitive shotgun. Later, “blunderbuss” came to mean a demagogue, smearing all and sundry without evidence. 173.24: “Eavens ears ow:” a lapse into cockney h-dropping – perhaps as signature of street-level gossip; with some exceptions the accent will predominate, abusively, up to line 30. 173.27: “blighty:” WW I soldier slang for England, but here its secondary sense seems more pertinent: a war wound sufficient to exempt one from combat. Throughout, Shem is accused of (like Joyce in Switzerland) sitting out the war. 173.28: “Mr Himmyshimmy:” Himself. Irishism for self-important man. Compare .22-3: “Mr Humhum” 173.29: “dirty seventh among thieves:” allusion to Ali Baba’s forty thieves 173.30-1: “as glib as eaveswater:” Water dropping from eaves, where eavesdroppers hang out. I suggest that “glib” is onomatopoeic. 173.33: “drivel:” dribble, induced by facial contortions induced by Shem’s drivel 173.34: “inkstands:” variant on “inkhorn” language, terms, etc: unnecessarily, pretentiously erudite. “Inkhorn terms” appears in one of Joyce’s notebooks. 173.36: “unshrinkable:” again, a consideration for washing day. (“Sanforized” (unshrinkable) clothes began being advertised in 1930.) Also, unthinkable 174.3: “snoozer:” snoozing sleeper, stupefied by Joyce/Shem’s stories 174.9: "washout:" a failure, an incompent 174.13: “I’m yoush:” an ingratiating “I’m yours” – as in: yours to command 174.13-4: “me sure:” Monsieur 174.14: “be filling this!:” as in, addressed to the bartender: Pour him another drink! I’m buying! (He repeats the order at .20-1.) 174.14: “apasafello:” “At’s a fellow!” (Expression of encouragement). Also, Gypsy for "I believe you." 174.15: “firing…girlic:” male…female. (Gaelic fir: men) 174.16: “focuss:” passive-aggressively being attentive while silently cursing - cussing - the talker; compare Lenehan vis-à-vis Corley in “Two Gallants.” 174.19: “(hemoptysia diadumenos):” Brendan O Hehir reads this as Greek for haimoptysma diadyomenon: “evading bloody sputum.” Would seem to fit the context: whether in wars, bars, or sports (for instance the famously bloody sport of rugby), Shem avoids conflict. 174.21: “tumbletantaliser:” as McHugh notes, a name for a (tantalizing) decanter stand (an extra step is required for the decanters to be unstoppered); in “Hades” Bloom remembers “tantalus glasses.” Along with “Tumblin-on-the-Leafy” (.26, and compare “Circe:” “Tumble her”) apparently an innuendo of homosexual intent. See also .32 and note: Shem will submit to anything, including buggery, in order to ingratiate himself and avoid trouble. 174.23: “rains:” reigns 174.27-8: “brickfields…quicklimers:” bricks and quicklime go together to make, for instance, a wall. 174.30: "busnis hits busnis:" in context, Gypsy for spurring on, with spurs. They are in a hurry, "streaking for home." 174.30-1: “streaking for home after Auborne-to-Auborne:” perhaps echo of cliché “streaks of dawn.” Oxbridge students at the time were locked into their quads at evening hours, and reminiscences sometimes feature accounts of the them climbing the gates and returning at daybreak. Also, aubade to aubade: from one dawn to the next. An aubade is a song or poem for a lover leaving at dawn. Joyce called Book IV, FW’s next-morning chapter, an aubade. 174.32: “ruggering:” buggering, rogering. Given context, is occurring at an elite public school, for instance Rugby 174.34: “truffles:” troubles, trifles, but also possibly underground truffles they had kicked up in their “ruggering.” See next entry. 175.2-3: “roll in the dirt:” on the one hand, just what the “ruggering” – rugby-playing - hearties have been doing on their own. On the other hand, rolling in the dirt – followed by (.3) delousing – would presumably be one way of fumigating someone. Here and elsewhere in this chapter, we are reminded that the young hydrophobic Joyce must have smelt bad. (At a conference, Robert Day once recalled talking to someone who had met the young Joyce, and who remembered him with the words, “He stank.”) Also, sounds to my ears like “roll in the hay,” an Americanism for spontaneous sex – anticipated by “Tumblin-on-the-Leafy” (.26): again, the rugged male-only games come with overtones of homosexuality. This scene will be recalled or repeated at 517.12-4. 175.3: “deloused:” the Stephen of Portrait, chapter 5 has lice. 175.3: “born a Quicklow:” echoes the “quicklimers” fighting the “slowspiers” at 174.28. I don’t know what “slowspiers” are supposed to be, but quicklime is the traditional burial medium for those executed by the British, including Irish patriots. (Yeats, “Roger Casement:” “…this most gallant gentleman / That is in quicklime laid.”) The capitalization of “Quicklow” may suggest “Quakers,” conscientious objectors and thus, in the context, in league with the anti-war Shem. 175.3-4: “sank alowing:” sang alone; sank out of sight 175.5: “All Saints beat Belial!: Mickil Goals to Nichil!:” Belial: a pre-Christian god of the underworld. (In Paradise Lost, he’s a glib homosexual.) Under Benjamin Jowett, Oxford’s Balliol College was considered the main (paganist/neo-paganist) antagonist to the Oxford Movement’s resurgent high-church Christianity. Also, according to Campbell and Robinson, it was known for enrolling “numerous Hindus and other outlanders.” I haven’t been able to confirm this last point, but if so it adds a racial dimension to forces-of-light Michael defeating forces-of-darkness Old Nick. In any case, here, Oxford’s All Souls College has, intramurally, scored many (“mickle”) goals against Balliol’s (“Nichil,” nihil) zero, and (“Notpossible! Already?” (.5-6)) it’s still early in the game. 175.7-16: “In Nowhere…Oath:” at least roughly corresponds to the sequence of FW’s seven-clause (p)recapitulation (3.4-14) and to the narrative order of I.1: .7-6: Creation; .8-9: Fall; .11: Waterloo; .12-3: Mutt and Jute; .14-5: prankquean; .16: (temporary) peace, signaled by rainbow. See also next four entries. 175.7: “In Nowhere has yet the Whole World taken part of himself for his Wife:” The Creation. Compare Stephen’s “Scylla and Charybdis” parody of the Apostle’s Creed: “He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others.” 175.9: “Nowhere:” McHugh has “Nowhom,” which would echo Blake’s “Nobodaddy.” 175.11: “forced the Arth out of Engleterre:” scared the shit - a.k.a. "night earth" - out of, which Napoleon certainly did to the English. 175.14: “struck fire of his Heath:” hearth, where fires are started 175.17: “Cleftfoot:” the devil’s cloven hoof. (Obvious?) 175.17: “Blamefool:” “Blameful:” always attributing blame to others. “Blame fool:” Americanism for a someone guilty of inexcusable stupidity. The “Blamefool Gardener” is of course Adam, for whose stupid mistake we are all paying. 175.18-9: Broken Eggs will poursuive bitten Apples for where theirs is Will there’s his Wall:” Humpty Dumpty’s/Cosmic Egg’s fall follows the biting of the (bitter) (crab) apple (see 170.7 and note) because that exercise of free will led inevitably to the fall (here, from the wall). (Although, again (see 175.7 and note): the biter/faller here may just as well be God, as in “God’s will:” the first occurrence of “will” in the Bible is Genesis 2:18: “And the Lord God said, it is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.”) 175.22: “leap his Bier:” drink (with their lips) his beer; leap over his bier 175.23-4: “And her Rillstrill liffs to his Murkesty all her daft Daughters laff inher Ear:” “all her” as in “all that her:” lisping into his (inner) ear, she, the Liffey, conveys all the village gossip, however daft. The daughter’s laughing recalls her own almost-innocent childhood: “she laughed innocefree” (204.18-9). “Ear” is probably capitalized to adumbrate “Earwicker.” “Daft:” alas, probably a glance at Lucia’s insanity. Adaline Glasheen: “It seems to me that Joyce observed his daughter’s madness with care and interest and wrote about it with great power and bad taste.” 175.25-6: “the four Shores of deff Tory Island:” sites of “the four waves of Ireland:” see 487.6-9 and McHugh annotation. Joyce certainly considered modern Ireland to be deaf to reason and entirely too Tory; this may echo the English saying, “Give an Irishman a horse and he’ll vote Tory.” See 359.26. 175.27: “chirps:” earwigs chirp. 175.29: “Lefty takes the cherubcake:” again, takes the cake. See 170.22 and note. Given the highly racialized content of what follows, the African-American “cakewalk” (see 170.22 and note) seems especially pertinent. Also, left (vs. the other’s “Rights” (.30)) in the political sense. See next entry. 175.30: “Rights cloves his hoof:” that is, the devil has a cloven hoof because his righteous antagonist has inflicted it on him. See .17 and note. Oxford editors delete the “s” in “Rights.” 175.31: “misoxenetic:” sexual relations – mixing between whites and blacks - were “miscegenetic,” outlawed in many southern states of the U.S. 175.31: “gaasy:” as McHugh notes, the G.A.A. – the Gaelic Athletic Association, promoter of muscular sports (hurley, shotput) presumed to be more natively Irish, therefore more manly, than, for instance, England’s cricket and lawn tennis. Michael Cusack, the citizen of “Cyclops,” was a leading proponent. (Sidelight: he is never named. “Cyclops” corresponds to the episode of the Odyssey in which Odysseus escapes as “Noman.” Here, the proponent is called “Niscemus Nemon” (.33).) 175.34: “honeys and rubbers:” The Mitford family playfully divided themselves into “Hons and Rebels.” An autobiographical book by Jessica Mitford bearing this title appeared in 1960; I’m guessing the phrase was in circulation before then. (Can’t find it in Google Books, though.) 175.35: “Dina” and “old Joe:” in America, common terms for black female and male – like “Fritz” for a German 175.36: “yellow girl:” given the context – race, sex, miscegenation – this probably incorporates “high yellow,” the color of mixed-race offspring, usually with the implication that such a person may pass for white. Cf. 538.9: “best Brixton high yellow.” Brixton was (I gather still is) a mixed-race neighborhood. 176.1: “Thom Thom:” tom-tom – another variation on the theme of matters African/African-American; at .21 someone will be welting – beating – a “tom.” 176.1-2: “Put the Wind up the Peeler:” annoy the policeman 176.2: “Hat in the Ring:” throwing one’s hat in the ring: proclaiming yourself eligible for a fight in the boxing ring. Later came to mean running for office 176.3: “Mikel on the Luckypig, Nickel in the Slot:” a musical duo. Given tom-tom (.1), “Luckypig” may echo Ludwig: band drums were and are manufactured by Ludwig & Ludwig. (Ringo Starr played on one.) Here accompanied by Nick, putting an American coin in a jukebox (first Google Books appearance of the word: 1924), or perhaps in a coin-operated automated pianola of the kind on show in “Circe”’s 1904 brothel. Musical machinery was a growing fad throughout the first half of the 20th century. Also, from The Reliquary and Illustrated Archaeologist: “In all countries where swine were ‘grown’ as a national industry, we find that small models of the pig are regarded as a luck charm. Who has not heard of the lucky pig? Ireland is a standing proof of this idea.” Harvard’s Porcellians identified (identify?) one another by their tiny pink pig charms. 176.4: “Adam and Ell:” El: Jewish word for God 176.4: “Humble Bumble:” Humpty Dumpty 176.6: “Writing a Letter to Punch:” Punch: British humor magazine. Writing a letter to the editor would have been pointless, if only because the magazine didn’t print letters. 176.7: “Are we Fairlys Represented:” Farrelly: name of what Edward MacLysaght’s the surnames of Ireland calls “a numerous and important sept.” 176.8: “Solomon Silent reading:” a solemn silent reading. “Silent reading” was in Joyce’s time an innovation in elementary schools: previously all classroom reading had been done aloud. In The Confessions, Augustine is surprised by the sight of someone reading silently. 176.8: “Appletree Bearstone:” FW’s tree-stone duo, usually associated with the brothers; “Bear” may echo "bare:" compare “an only elmtree and but a stone” (159.4). 176.10: “Dreamcolohour:” conventional wisdom was that dreams are usually black-white-grey, except when the dreamer is mad and/or an artistic type. The dream that is FW is most definitely in color. 176.12: “Nap:” a card game, named for Napoleon 176.12-3: “Heali Baboon and the Forky Theagues:” Joyce sure knew how to hold a grudge. His first known literary composition, written at about the age of nine, was the poem “Et tu, Healy,” against Tim Healy, whom, taught by his father, Joyce thought of as Parnell’s Judas (or Brutus) - and here, some forty years on, we go again, beginning with calling Healy a baboon. “Forky” should probably evoke (assassins’) knives, “Theagues” the priests (theological thieves) who, according to the story, stabbed Parnell in the back. Possible overtone of both “Hail Caesar” and “Heil,” to a simian Führer and/or his simian followers. “Heali Baboon:” compare “Ouer Tad, Hellig Babbau” (481.20), where “Hellig” echoes German heilig for holy and “Babbau” Italian babbo for daddy. Healy had a house in Chapelizod. 176.13-4: "Handmarried but once in my Life and I'll never commit such a Sin agin:" from the song "Barnaby Finnegan:" "I married but once in my life / But I'll never commit such a sin again." Also, compare Mulligan's imagined play about masturbation, "A Honeymoon in the Hand," in "Scylla and Charybdis." 176.15-6: “Zip Cooney Candy, Turkey in the Straw:” “Coon” can be pejorative term for an African-American or, as in “Hades,” for any negligible man. In “Cyclops,” Joyce turns the song “If the Man in the Moon was a Coon, Coon, Coon,” directed against blacks, into “If the Man in the Moon was a Jew, Jew, Jew.” Shem in this chapter is subject to both (sometimes overlapping) lines of abuse. About the American song “Turkey in the Straw,” Wikipedia says “that it was first popularized in the late 1820s and early 1830s by blackface performers.” 176.19: “Now it is notoriously known:” allusion to Caxton’s introduction to Pilgrim’s Progress: “for it is notoriously known, through the universal world, that there be nine worthy and best that ever were, that is, to wit, three Paynims, three Jews, and three Christian men.” 176.19: “bludgeony:” blustery weather; also, lots of bludgeoning going on 176.20: “germogall:” Germans vs French (Gauls) – as in WW I 176.20-1: “was harrily the rage:” was all the rage; perhaps “harrily” echoes "verily." “Rage” is also literal here: there’s a war going on. 176.21: “weltingtoms:” see .1 and note. 176.22: “Irish eyes of welcome were smiling daggers down their backs:” a mashup of clichés, adding up to an indictment of Irish hypocrisy: a sentimental shamrocks-and-shillelaghs tourist-trade song; the “welcome” of Céad Mile Failte (can be variously spelled and accented); smiling Irish eyes that turn out to be “looking daggers” when your back is turned (compare “smilers” in Portrait, chapter five); those daggers are knives in the back from gladhanders who, privately, look down on you and do not wish you well. 176.25: “maxims:” maxim guns 176.27-8: “pursued by the scented curses of all the village belles:” because he hasn’t fought and died like a man. As at the end of “Circe” – old Gummy Granny handing Stephen a knife and telling him to go and die for Ireland, the whores cheering on the fight – Joyce is thoroughly uncharmed by female egging-on gung-hoism in wars fought by men. (He wasn’t alone: Wilfred Own’s “Dulce et Decorum Est” was written in response to the remarkably bloodthirsty Jesse Pope, author of, among other WW I poems, “The Call” (“Who’s for the trench? Are you, my laddie?”).) (See also 92.13 and note.) 176.29: “lagging it:” “legging it:” hurrying away. 176.30: “dust he shook:” Expression: “he shook the dust [of his native country] off his feet.” Original source is probably Matthew 10:14: "And whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, when ye depart out of that house or city, shake off the dust of your feet." 176.34-5: “he was whole bach bamp him and bump him blues:” ragtime rhythm – at the time would have been associated with black performers. Also, black and blue, from having “boxed” (.34). 176.35-6: “enveloped into a dead warrior’s telemac:” WW I soldiers killed in action were sometimes buried in macintoshes. As McHugh notes, “Telemac” was a rubber company, and macintoshes are made from “rubberized” material. 176.36-176.1: “lullobaw’s somnbomnet and a whotwaterwottle at his feet:” lullaby, nightcap ("somn" (sleeping) bonnet), hot water bottle: standard go-to-bed equipment, but at least the second item, echoing the bombs of the Somme, recalls that he is also a dead warrior (.35-6), killed in action. 177.2: “monkmarian monotheme:” Marian monks of the Eucharistic Ordination, here chanting in monotone, later (.5-6) praying to Mary. (Nuns and laity will follow (.8).) The context may suggest that Shem is convalescing in a monastery, from wounds real or pretended. 177.2: “tarned… nation:” “tarnation!” – American expletive, as in “What in tarnation?” Occurs in “Scylla and Charybdis” 177.3: “ampullar:” ampule – small glass container for medicine or drug 177.5-6: “Daily Maily:” Daily Mail, tabloid founded by Lord Northcliffe, highly jingoistic before and during WW I 177.6 “Holy Maly:” beside (McHugh, and see .2 and note) “Holy Mary,” “Holy Moly!” an American interjection of surprise or alarm (here, the latter, at hearing a gunshot), replacing “Holy Moses!” or “Holy shit!” First Google Books occurrence is 1925. 177.6-7: “his cheeks and trousers changing colour every time a gag croaked.” That is, with each shot his cheeks turned whiter and his pants turned browner. 177.8-9: “god of the Crostiguns:” God of the Christians, here equal-oppositely combined with (McHugh) “dog of a Christian,” typically a curse leveled by the villainous Muslims of melodrama; as McHugh notes, the Koran turns up in the next line. 177.10: “houris in chems upon divans:” prolongs the Orientalist strain: “chems,” besides “Shem,” echoes “Cham,” archaic term for Khan 177.10: “sheols:” shoals. In “Nausicaa” Bloom envisages “shoals” of working women (that is, "she"’s) pouring out of their offices every evening. 177.10-1: “stellas vespertine vesamong:” combines Swift’s Stella and Vanessa with Vesper, the evening (stella) star 177.14: “clean little cherubum:” cute little (clean) bums - American equivalent would be "asses" - frequently figure in religious pictures of cherubim. 177.14: “Nobookisonester:” No book is honester. (Ulysses? Or this one?) 177.17: “vanessance of his lowness:” so (essentially) low that it/he has reached the vanishing point – sunk too far down for us to see any further 177.19: “privysuckatary:” with “privy” as outdoor toilet, this sounds like a particularly noxious roundabout kind of brown-nosing sucking-up. Possible overtone of succubus. (OED says “succubus” “can be occasionally applied to a man.”) 177.20: “Davy:” signifies Welshman (see, e. g., 8.23); “-suckatary” (.19) includes St. Patrick’s given Welsh name of “Sucat,” and “Bethgelert” (.22), as McHugh notes, refers to a Welsh narrative. So: a Welsh cluster. Here and elsewhere, Joyce seems to be entertaining the possibility that his family name came from Wales. Under “Joyce,” MacLysaght has “A family of Welsh origins which became completely hibernicized.” Anthony Burgess once remarked that Joyce’s ethnic origins were virtually identical to those of (almost-Welsh) Liverpool’s Beatles. (When it came out, the language of John Lennon’s collection In His Own Write was compared to FW; Lennon said, surely truthfully, that he’d never read it. He was, however, a subscriber to the James Joyce Quarterly.) 177.25-6: “thair’s a tail on a commet:” etymology of “comet” traces to “long-haired star.” 177.26: “fortytooth:” forty-two-ith, i.e. forty-second. Again, that elusive FW number. Based on Joyce’s notebook notes, the likeliest reference is to the forty-two judges of the Book of the Dead, passing sentence on the soul. (Doesn’t particularly seem to apply here, however) 177.21: “heavenlaid twin:” recalls the ad slogan for condensed milk “from contented cows.” Here, as in the Castor and Pollex story, prominent elsewhere in FW, the double-yoked egg from a divine mother, Leda. (Note accompanying ham in “hambone,” same line.) 177.21: “hambone:” can be a variant on “ham,” in sense of scenery-chewing actor; also, something like rock-bottom: the hambone is what’s left when everything else has been picked clean. 177.21: “pseudoed himself:” as a young writer, Joyce dubbed himself “Stephen Daedalus.” 177.28: “to listen out:” to hear him out 177.28: “dubbed:” his first literary work was to be dubbed, that is entitled, Dubliners 177.28: “Wine, Woman and Waterclocks:” Herbert Gorman, James Joyce: in 1917 someone “made the astonishing proposal that Joyce write a cinema scenario for him, its title to be Wine, Women, and Song.” 177.29: “Going Batty:” besides going blind as a bat, going insane 177.30: “Sheames de la Plume:” given context, Shameless, with a pen name. (See .21, with note.) 177.31-35: “that he was avoopf (parn me!) aware of no other shaggspick, other Shakhisbeard, either prexactly unlike his polar andthisishis or procisely the seem as woops (parn!) as what he fancied or guessed the sames as he was himself:” no other aspiring Shakespeare is either the opposite of him or the same as him, and that’s their problem – maybe Shakespeare’s, too, for not measuring up to Shem’s standard. (The alcohol is definitely going to Shem’s head here.) In fact, there’s no writer he reads without thinking he could do better. “Oxen of the Sun” shows that, drunk or not, Joyce is not necessarily kidding. Nora is reported as having said about her husband that "there's only that Shakespeare fellow left to beat." 177.32: “Shakhisbeard:” as in King Lear, to pluck or shake someone’s beard, especially an elder’s, is to show extreme disrespect. 177.32: “avoopf (parn me!):” see 177.8-10 and note. Repeat occurrence – more will be following – of Shem’s alcohol-induced difficulties with pronunciation. “Parn” – in vino veritas – gives away his rooted Parnellite loyalties. 177.32-3: “prexactly unlike his polar andthisishis:” the kind of interpreting constantly required when reading “mirrorhand” (.31). “Unlike:” also, alike 177.36-178.1: “teashop lionses of Lumdrum hivanhoesed up gagainst him:” society hostesses who coveted (male) literary celebrities (like Ivanhoe’s Scott) were known as “lion-hunters” – here, perhaps, inviting (or, in this case, pointedly failing to invite) a certain writer to a culture-vulture tea. “Lumdrum:” their base of operations is the literarily-intellectually humdrum London. “Hivanhoesed:” perhaps, with “hose,” because such literary ladies were called bluestockings. (As such, frequently ridiculed by Byron, the ultimate literary lion of his, and Scott’s, time, for being tediously high-minded: see 1.2 and note, also .21-2.) 178.1-2: “being a lapsis linquo with a ruvidubb shortartempa:” this particular writer (Joyce) is not invited because of his bad language (for instance, his “crusswords,” curse-words (.4)), his low Dublin origin (note “lap” - ALP – the Liffey, in “lapsis” and “Dublin River” lurking in “ruvidubb”), and his short-tempered propensity for being rubbed the wrong way. (Also: Liffey washerwomen rub-a-dub-dubbing a shirt in a tub) 178.1-2: “bad cad dad fad sad mad:” Lady Caroline Lamb (Long shot: “lionses” (.1) may elicit an equal-opposite “lambs;” “baalamb’s” appears at .13), Byron’s onetime mistress, famously called him “mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” 178.4: “scrufferumurraimost:” stretched-out superlative – scrufferissimost: by far the scruffiest person ever; again, that would be the unwashed Shem/Joyce. 178.5: “reams:” of (his) writing paper 178.6: “alley english spooker:” Ally Sloper: rednosed funny-pages (English) drunk; appears in “Circe.” Also, spook: ghost. Appears in “Circe,” at least twice elsewhere in FW 178.9-10: “Swithun’s day:” tradition that if it rains on Swithun’s day (July 15), there will follow forty continuous days of rain. (Note “noahs” four lines later; also, general wetness of the words following: “slippery” ground; “agush,” waders, junk and sampan, girls “stonestepping…plinkity plonk,” rainbow; the weather is “wetter.”) 178.10: “erstborn gore:” on the night of Passover, Jehovah killed all of Egypt’s firstborn sons, sparing only the Israelites. 178.11: “Welkins:" after (McHugh note) Barnaby Rudge (“bunnyboy rodger” (177.36)) an extra Dickens (“duckings” (177.35); another, from Great Expectations, will soon follow) cue: Wilkins Micawber, of David Copperfield; we were given a preliminary hint at 131.16: “the welkins ring with Up Micawber!” 178.11: “the bloods of heroes, crying to Welkins for others:” common theme of war propaganda: that the blood of the slain cries to heaven for vengeance (which will of course mean more bloodshed – that of “others,” and so on and so on). Plural “bloods” (unusual, like “waters,” “moneys”) may signal either a brand of propaganda multiculti “we’re-all-in-this-together” pitch or, more likely, its opposite. 178.13: “baa-lamb:” childish term of affection: e.g. “You’re such a widdle baa-lamb.” (But then compare next entry.) 178.13: “baa-lamb’s pluck:” “Pluck” means animal’s viscera – guts – for eating. Occurs twice in this sense in Ulysses. 178.15: “mobbu on massa:” the mob and its master 178.17: “Paltryattic Puetrie:” paltry, putrid, puerile poetry: Joyce’s usual take on war propaganda; “-attic,” as "Attic," is surely ironic. 178.18: “sinkalarum:” alarm (alarums) at the prospect of sinking (in the flood) 178.18: “heads up:” soldier’s warning of incoming ordnance; see .20 and note. 178.18: “bonafide:” bonafides pretended to be out-of-town visitors in order to drink during proscribed hours; here, as usual in FW, they are traveling (.15) en masse. 178.20: “whizzer:” whizbang: WW I shell 178.21-5: “happy belongers to the fairer sex on their usual quest for higher things, but vying with Lady Smythe to avenge MacJobber, went stonestepping with their bickerrstaffs on educated feet, plinkity plonk, across the sevenspan ponte dei colori set up over the slop after the war-to-end war:” see 176.27-8 and note. 178.22: “Lady Smythe:” as with Mafeking later, the relief of the British garrison at Ladysmith was an occasion for jingoistic rejoicing. Also, compare 166.16: “Smythe” can probably be taken as a pretentious-Brit re-spelling of Smith. 178.23-4: “educated feet:” a common expression, here applied to the careful footwork required to avoid getting wet while “stonestepping” across the receding sea of blood 178.24: “sevenspan ponte:” Via dei Sette Ponti: a picturesque segment of the Roman Cassia Way, between Fiesole and Arezzo, encompassing seven bridges 178.26-7: “only once…dose…threedraw:” one one; Spanish dos, two; three: one two three, ingredients of 1132 178.27: “hawkspower:” as in “hawk-eye” – here a measurement of visual acuteness 178.29-30: “spitting at the impenetrablum wetter:” “Hades:” A raindrop spat on his hat.” someone, aggravated at the always-awful weather, is spitting back. Given context, probable overtone of spying in “spitting” 178.30: “porcoghastly:” given (McHugh) Portuguese outumn, two words away, probably an overtone of Portugal. According to the online World Climate Guide, Portugal’s coastal city of Porto gets an impressive 47 inches of annual rainfall, about 1 ½ times that of Dublin. Autumn is the rainy season. 178.31-2: “prayed to the cloud Incertitude:” Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the world, macro and microcosm, upon the void. Upon incertitude, upon unlikelihood.” 178.32-3: “on akkount of all the kules in Kroukaparka or oving to all the kodseoggs in Kalatavala:” in FW, proliferating k’s usually signal Dutch or Afrikaans. South Africa has a Kruger National Park, which, if only incidentally, would certainly include “kules” (see second .33 entry). 178.33: “Kalatavala:” perhaps the Finnish epic, the Kalevala; see next entry. 178.33: “kules:” “kales” Finnish for “crows.” Goes with croaking in “Kroukaparka” 178.36-179.1: “see me see and his my see a corves and his frokerfoskerfuskar layen loves in meeingseeing:” Shem as (.22) peeping tom, about to be found out and confronted. Compare 581.24-5. Shem was the son who was cursed for seeing Noah’s nakedness. 178.36: “corves:” crows 179.3: “irregular:” Black and Tans were, militarily, Irregulars 179.5: “shade:” shadow: underworld argot: to secretly follow, track 179.6: "shoot shy Shem should the shit show:" due to what some considered his cowardly retreat at the Battle of the Boyne, James II was remembered by his critics as "Seamus a caca," Seamus the Shit. FW includes much commentary on Shem's cowardice, including imputations that his bad smell traces from his having fouled his pants out of fear. 179.6: “shiny shnout:” Ellmann on Joyce’s directions for his picture, to be drawn by César Abin: “Someone had called him a ‘blue-nosed comedian,’ so he insisted that a star be put at the end of his nose to illuminate it.” (Compare 182.4-5.) (Also, according to a report by F. Scott Fitzgerald, the Joyce of the FW days had a drinker’s red nose.) Also, “sheeny:” pejorative term for Jews, here paired with overtone of Yiddish shnoz, big nose. (Compare 626.25.) Again, and one last time: Shem is often Jewish. 179.7: “hosed:” beaten with rubber hose – synonymous with brutal police interrogations 179.7: “look facts in their face:” distinctively British expression for acknowledging unpleasant facts: “We must look it [or them] in the face.” Compare 177.35. 179.8: “six or a dozen:” predominantly American expression: six of one, half a dozen of the other 179.8: “gayboys:” perhaps junior g-men. (Compare 133.10.) 179.9-10: “Deucalion and Pyrrha:” see McHugh. We’ve just been through a flood, leaving a wet landscape with steppingstones (178.23). In the myth, the stones turn into people when thrown over the shoulder. 179.9-16: “What, para Saom Plaom…?:” just maybe: What, in Sam Hill? (Compare 185.8.) “Hill” in Khmer (Cambodian) is phnom. 179.10: “incensed privy:” perfumed outhouse 179.13: “Calumnious Column:” Brendan O Hehir has Gaelic Comcille – “Dove of the church,…Latinized Columba.” In “Nestor” Stephen apparently compares himself to “fiery Columbanus.” Like Adaline Glasheen, “I am not sure I have Columba properly sorted out” from Columbanus or some other sound-alikes. 179.14: “Cloaxity:” in a generally favorable review of Portrait, read by Joyce, H.G. Wells wrote that Joyce, like Swift, had a “cloacal imagination.” 179.17-9: “The answer, to do all the diddies in one dedal, would sound: from pulling himself on his most flavoured canal the huge chesthouse of his elders (the Popapreta,” and some navico, navvies!):” see 428.17-21: “that goodship the Jonnyjoys.” To quote from McHugh’s note there: “John Joyce: name of J’s father and also of a pleasure steamer sailing from Dún Laoghaire.” Here, we have “diddies” (daddies), “dedal” (Stephen’s father’s name is Simon Dedalus), “elders,” and, in “Popapreta,” Pop, in Joyce’s notes the standard name for FW’s father figure. The ship is also a canal barge, being pulled – towed – on a towpath, doubling, as some barges did, as a houseboat. Dublin has two canals, the Grand and the Royal, which almost encircle the city and extend across Ireland to the Shannon River. 179.18: “most flavoured canal:” 1. Guinness barges are towed on Dublin’s canals. There is a tradition that their water is a major Guinness ingredient, giving the drink much of its flavor. Someone fond of Guinness would therefore prefer that it be transported on the most flavored of the canals. 2. Long shot: some canals, notably Panama and Suez, grant “most favored nation” status to some clients. 179.18-9: “chesthouse:” according to an 1830 guide to Persia, the treasury was called the Sanduk-Kaneh, the Chest-house. 179.18: “canal:” echoes “canaille” of 173.2 179.16: “badbad:” possible echo of “baa-baa black sheep” 179.21: “loose:” lost 179.22: “septuncial:” An American doctorate, anyway, earns you seven letters after your name: John Gordon, AB MA PhD 179.25-6: “the inspissated grime of his glaucous den:” a cataract was once believed to be an ‘inspissated humour’ between the lens and the iris. See next item. 179.26: “glaucous:” throughout FW, green or greenish vision signals glaucoma. 179.29: “turning over three sheets at a wind:” turning the pages (sheets) in bundles of three: obviously, he’s not reading very carefully. Possible allusion to Sybil’s leaves, spelt out as the wind blew them 179.30: “espellor:” espelho: Portuguese for “mirror.” Also, one early meaning of “to spell” is “to read.” See note for “reverberration” (143.13). 179.30: “splurge:” Joyce splurged. 179.32-3: “for nothing for ever:” obviously a very good deal: you can rent it for nothing for as long as you like 179.33: “a ladies tryon hosiery raffle:” a confirmed fetishist, Shem would certainly enjoy observing the women in a department store stockings raffle where the winners tried on the prizes. 179.34: “a sewerful of guineagold:” “Guinea-Gold” was a popular brand of cigarette. Counterpoised with image of riches – a horde of gold guineas - is the cartoon cliché of down-and-outs picking butts out of the gutter. Gold in the Gutter is the title of a 1910 novel by Charles Garvice; Google Books shows that the expression – meaning, usually, a windfall – was fairly common. 179.35: "worth a billion a bite:” contemporary slogan for Beecham’s Pills: “worth a guinea a box.” 179.36: “stamping room only in the prompter’s box:” if the only S.R.O. spot left is in the prompter’s box, the theatre is crowded indeed. 180.1: “everthemore his queque kept swelling:” the longer the line to see his performance, the more prodigious became his erection. 180.1-2: “noblewomen flinging every coronetcrimsoned stitch they had off at his probscenium, one after the others:” Franz Liszt’s female fans were known to throw their clothes onto the stage during his concerts. I suggest that “one after the others” includes clothes as well as women: a kind of frenzied spontaneous striptease (“every…stitch” means every article of clothing), in which the pants (“pantheomime” (.4)) come last; compare 257.20: “You’re well held now, Missy Cheekspeer, and your panto’s off!” – the pantomime’s been called off (or over); your pants have come off, thus revealing your butt-cheeks. OED’s first entry for “panties” in the sense of what the British call drawers is 1908. 180.2: “coronetcrimsoned stitch:” monograms of the nobility frequently include a coronet, here perhaps doubling as laundry mark; the laundry mark of I.8 (205.8) is in “scarlet thread.” 180.3: “inamagoaded:” enamored plus goaded; possible overtone of Freudian imago 180.5: “accordant:” accordant: naturally harmonious 180.5: “topsquall:” topnote. Shem is a tenor with an extremely high pitch – to some, in fact, it sounds like (unmanly) squealing and/or yelling (.5, .6) - compared to whom even another tenor (see McHugh), Barton McGuckin (“Baraton McGluckin” (.8)), comes across as a baritone. 180.6: “jew ear:” possible allusion to Wagner’s antisemitic writings on Jewish composers, especially Mendelsohn. Even at his most popular, some listeners want to (“Shemlockup” (.6)) lock Shem up (with a distinct overtone of “Shylock”) - and if, synesthetically, his voice sounds (“Yellin” (.6)) yellow, with its overtone of Nineties decadence (and Jews were sometimes forced to wear yellow insignia long before the Nazis came along), McGluckin’s shamelessly tear-jerkingly Irish Green, White, and Gold/Orange (“green, cheese, and tangerine” (.9)), not to mention the also shamelessly supererogatory “trinity plumes” on his Christian head (.9), are, by their blatant contrast to Shem’s suspect yellow, bound to win over this local Irish Catholic crowd. 180.7: “for fully five minutes:” holding a note for this long is obviously impossible – a reminder that this is all part of Shem’s fantasy. 180.7: “juice like a boyd!:” in Joyce’s time (not ours) would have been recognized as a comical Brooklyn accent. Also, likely echo of “jewboy:” a contemporary epithet, usually antisemitic 180.9: “green, cheese:” green cheese is unripe. The “scrumptious” (.8) combination of foodstuffs in his makeup helps identify him as a Shaun type. 180.10: “right handle side:” Shaun is always the right side, vs. Shem’s left. “Handle” can be slang for either name, arm, or hand. 180.10: “amarellous:” given other Miltonic echoes in the chapter, probably an allusion to the Amaryllis of “Lycidas.” 180.11: “the kerssest cut, you understand?:” curtest – sharpest - cut. By way of “curse,” maybe echoes “unkindest cut of all.” The voice here of an enthusiast who, liking the cut of his jib, wants to be sure we appreciate the up-to-date smartness of the singer’s clothes. 180.11: “sponiard’s digger at his ribs:” the point of his costume’s poniard, apparently misplaced, is digging into his ribs, so much so that he’s feeling (“punxit” (.12)) punctured. Mozart's Don Giovanni is a Spaniard. 180.12: “azulblu blowsheet:” blue (azure) blouse. Timing is problematic, but the Blue Shirts were the Irish version of the Black Shirts and Brown Shirts. Without doubt, they are present, in that capacity, elsewhere in FW. Why would someone like Shem wear such a thing? Perhaps to fit in: the subtext throughout is that, even at the height of his success, he’s trying to do just that, and, like Bloom in Ulysses, not quite succeeding, at least not for long. Also, the “blow” in “blowsheet” echoes the “three sheets in the wind,” meaning drunk, in play at 179.29. On the literal level, a ship with three sheets (sails) blowing in the wind is out of control; so, though on a safer level (see 179.29 and note) is a reader going through a book and letting the wind decide which one of every three pages he will read. 180.13-5: “Cardinal Lindundarri and Cardinal Carchingarri and Cardinal Loriotuli and Cardinal Occidentaccia:” the Italian spin given to all four of these cardinals from Ireland’s four provinces reflects the fact that, from 1523 until the 1978 selection of John Paul II, popes, chosen by cardinals, were invariably Italian. 180.18: “jigjagged:” with an assist from “Jacob,” Jim Joyce. Compare "jem is joky" of 169.1, "jimjams" of 193.35. 180.18: “foxtrotting fleas:” flea circuses – fleas trained to perform stunts – were current in Joyce’s time. So: if acrobatics, why not the fox trot? 180.19: “lieabed lice:” in some quarters beds (Gaelic leabed) were, doubtless still are, a good place to acquire lice. 180.19: “the scum on his tongue:” a result of having had too much to drink the night before 180.19-20: “the drop in his eye:” eyedrops, routinely given at eye examinations. Also, a drooping eye can be a sign of a stroke. 180.22: “mindfag…braintree:” brainfag: a supposed mental ailment frequently cited in patent medicines of the time. Compare the "Brainfogfag" of "Circe." 180.22: “the buzz in his braintree:” contemporary popular-medical convention: the brain is electric; the heart is vascular. The former buzzes; the latter throbs. Also, the brain is a ramifying tree, a site of dendritic (etymologically, branches) branchings. A number of FW passages reflect this convention – most impressively, I think, the opening pages of III.3, where the mind is a phosphorescent branchwork of intermittent electrical discharges. 180.23: “up:” of 180.23-4: “the fire in his gorge:” the expression “a fire in the belly,” meaning a consuming ambition to excel, seems to have originated with Thomas Carlyle. Joyce certainly had it. 180.25: “the rot in his eater:” perhaps referring to Joyce’s, or anyone’s, teeth, decaying from early youth 180.28: “the hullabaloo and the dust in his ears:” in context, this sounds (so to speak) like tinnitus. 180.28-9: “since it took him a month to steal a march:” to steal a march is, militarily, to reach your goal before the enemy thought you could. Obviously, taking a month to do it would defeat the purpose. March is the month when wars traditionally start. 180.30-1: “Hake’s haulin! Hook’s fisk! Can you beat it? Whawe! I say, can you bait it:” I can’t say why, but suddenly – hake, haul in, hook, “fisk,” “beat it,” “bait it” – the paragraph ends with Shem’s being a fish, hooked and landed. Compare page 525, where, this time, Shaun is the catch. 180.32: “blackguardism… woolies:” i.e. black sheep 180.34: “bumpersprinkler:” tipsily spilling drink from a “bumper” – a glass full to the brim? Probably not, but still: “bumpersprinkler” or “bumper-sprinkler,” meaning a certain kind of sprinkling/irrigating apparatus, has, I’m reasonably sure, been around since at least the late 1950’s, because I remember it. OED doesn’t include the word, and no other source I’ve consulted has anything from before the last twenty years or so. Lesson: even the internet has its lacunae. 180.35: “haccent:” arriviste airs: he overdoes the aitches. (Same with “Hoy” (.36).) 181.1 calls him a “stage Englesemen” (the act goes from 180.34 to 181.3) and such roles were typically toffish. 180.35: “Mynfadher was a boer:” “Mijn vader was een boer:” Dutch for “my father was a farmer.” 180.36: “parole:” Frenchified affectation for “My word of honor” 180.36: “corrected with the blackboard:” 1. a teacher, probably of the Henry Higgins sort, at his elocution class’s blackboard; 2. connected with the board (see 173.18 and note). 181.1: “Englesemen:” not to belabor, but: 1. a stage Englishman would be top-shelf in all matters, including ancestry and the whole bloodlines thing, and 2. variously spelled, Engelman, Engel, etc. would, more likely than not, be a Jewish name, therefore, dear me, not at all top-shelf after all. (“Variously spelled:” in “Cyclops,” a man named Bridgeman is being defrauded, and an antisemitic customer is happy at the news: “That’s a good one if old Shylock is landed.” Is “Bridgeman” an English or a Jewish name? Another “n” at the end would come close to settling the matter. But then are we sure that there isn’t such an n, undetectable in the chapter’s second-hand account of Bloom’s enunciation of the name? Or that Bridgeman (?) hadn’t dropped it, as some Irish-born Americans were said to have dropped the O in the Atlantic? Same question goes for “Englesman(n).”) 181.2: “Bravure:” Bravura 181.6: “Barbaropolis:” city of barbarians 181.9: “gorgeous premises:” Dublin’s upper class lives in Georgian homes. 181.11: “bombinubble puzzo:” buzzing buzz: the objection is to his talk as well as to his smell. 181.12-3: “Instead of chuthoring those model households plain wholesome pothooks:” there are variations, but in some cases, for both kitchens and handwriting, a pair of “pothooks” would resemble a “JJ.” (Shem as author seems to be doubling – or, actually, not, and that’s the problem - with a door-to-(back)door tradesman peddling household items to the kitchen help.) 181.14-5: “stolen fruit:” possible allusion to Augustine (Joyce’s middle name), in whose Confessions the act of stealing fruit elicits a revelatory self-examination. 181.15: “cutely:” overcleverly 181.16: “epical:” Joyce called Ulysses an “epic.” 181.16: “forged:” last page of Portrait: “to forge in the smithy of my soul” 181.17-10: “as just related, the Dustbin’s United Scullerymaid’s and Househelps’s Sorority, better known as Sluttery’s Mowlted Futt, turned him down and assisted nature by unitedly shoeing the source of annoyance out of the place altogether:” as related at .3, when he was “toed out.” More politely, he was shown out; again followed up at .32: “got the boot.” 181.18: “Sluttery’s:” “slutty” (or, as in Shakespeare, “sluttish”) went from meaning dirty/sloppy to signifying female slobbishness, then on to our present meaning. In none of those senses a desirable quality in a housemaid; in either or all of them it would be pretty degrading to be rejected by such. 181.19: “Mowlted Futt:” moldy fruit, something a kitchen maid ought not to let happen. Compare Kate earlier, indignant at the kitchen’s moldy gooseberries (142.2-3); in retrospect, she is apparently blaming an underling. (Although, as best I can tell, elsewhere FW gives little or no sign of any such sous-servants, possibly excepting Marge.) Given context, perhaps also overtone of: moldy-smelling foot/feet; see next item. 181.20: “shoeing the source of annoyance:” may suggest that one source of Shem’s intolerable smell is the state of his feet. Putting on shoes would sure help. Compare 135.2-3. 181.21: “shoeing:” shooing 181.21: “taytotally:” unlike Shem, they’re teetotalers, with an Irish pronunciation of “tee”/”tea.” 181.23: “purscent:” again: smell – scent – is the main topic here. 181.24: “pointopointing remarks:” pointed remarks 181.25: “Sniffey:” the Liffey at low tide. Compare testimony of 94.24-95.32. 181.26: “why a stunk:” as McHugh notes, an equal-opposite echo of “hyacinth,” from 87.12. Hyacinths are sweet-smelling – some perfumes are made from them – but here we have a skunk (“stunk”) instead. 181.27: “Jymes:” James as rhymester? In any case, a lower-class English pronunciation of “James:” compare My Fair Lady’s “Don’t say rine say rain.” Introduces a scene of “city life” (.29) poverty 181.28: “jumper:” loose-fitting dress or outer garment 181.28-9: “rather full pair of culottes:” he would like the (see McHugh) knickers to be either sized for a full-figured woman or, better yet, filled with one. Compare Bloom in “Nausicaa,” being appreciative of Molly and her petticoats: “She has something to put in them.” Probably relevant that “culottes” includes cul, French for anus. 181.30-1: “would sit and write…she will now assist:” recalls Bloom’s want ad for a lady typist to “assist” in his writing. 181.31: “assist:” desist 181.31-2: “Superior built:” build, in sense of body 181.32: “Also got the boot:” cf. “Left Boot Sent on Approval” (71.33-4), meaning we will send you its mate if you agree to buy the pair 181.32: “regular layer:” originally, a layer is a hen-laying hen; in “Lestrygonians” Bloom thinks of Queen Victoria, with her ten children, as having been “a good layer.” 181.35: “slow:” no genetic support to offer here, but everything in this chapter has Shem being “low,” not slow. If anything, he is, in a number of senses, not slow enough. 181.36: “nate Hamis:” Brendan O Hehir has “Hamis” as one Gaelic version of James. So: né James. Compare 169.1 and note. 182.3-14: “his pelagiarist…ever he met:” a self-portrait of Joyce teaching Berlitz. From a history of heavy drinking he has a reddish, shiny nose (compare Shem’s “shiny shnout” (179.6)), and, following the Berlitz method (see .7 and note), he points to it and asks his students, all of them girls, to describe its color in the language being taught; they shout one another down with their answers, which are always (see McHugh) that it is the reddish-brown color of ginger (also – essentially the same – cinnabar); the last answer (“tincture and gin” (.9-10)) adds the cause. The bright nose, given his eye trouble, allows him to read what he’s writing. (It may be worth noting that the song “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” didn’t appear until (just) after FW’s publication.) Also: as a “pelagiarist” he is one of the Pelagians who, according to Brewer, had only one eye (Joyce at times had only one functioning eye, at best; see .34 and note) and who worked in quarries, and attached a lantern to their forehead to give them light underground.” 182.3: “pelagiarist:” Pelagius denied Original Sin – a doctrine likely to be attractive to “Gracehoper” Joyce. 182.4: “light fantastic:” from “L’Allegro” by John Milton, another writer with eye problems. Means a sprightly society dance 182.4-5: “gnose’s glow:” see 179.6 and note. 182.5: “slid luciferously:” Lucifer also slid. 182.6-7: “fear in saddishness:” foreign caddishness 182.7: “to ensign the colours:” at least on one level, this is portrait of Joyce writing Work In Progress, including the colored pencils or crayons he used, their colors corresponding to different stages or strands of the composition. 182.7 “beerlitz in his mathness:” method in his madness; for all intents, “Berlitz” is short for “the Berlitz Method.” 182.7: “beerlitz:” beer also contributed to the nose’s glow. 182.7: “mathness:” Greek math, knowledge 182.8: “outhue to themselves in cries:” again, his students are shouting one another down with the answer. “Hue” in sense of color (.7) is also present. 182.8-9: “cries of girlglee:” a girls’ glee club 182.10: “Nibs:” expression: His nibs: supposedly one of respect, but always or almost always sarcastic. Also, pen nibs 182.11: “rosy lampoon’s:” French lampion, lamp 182.12: “simulchronic flush in his pan:” flash of inspiration in his brainpan. (Compare the “cerebralized saucepan” of 292.13.) “Simulchronic” suggests that, like others of his generation, Joyce considered alcohol to be essential to his creativity. 182.12-3: “(a ghinee a ghirk he ghets there!):” something on the order of: I’ll bet dollars to donuts (or, as in “Oxen of the Sun,” “Guinea to a goosegog”) that he gets there. Question: “ghets” where, exactly? Perhaps to the end of writing this book – certainly, at some times during its composition, an iffy question 182.15-6: “even sharing a precipitation under the idlish tarriers’ umbrella of a showerproof wall:” in writing FW, Joyce prided himself on incorporating stray bits and pieces from all over – here, from something said by some stranger met while sharing a shelter, waiting out the rain. 182.15: “idlish tarriers’:” Irish tarriers. Compare the late 19th century American folk song “Drill ye tarriers, drill.” A tarrier was a worker who, using a machine of the same name, drilled rock for the railroads. In the song, anyway, the workers are clearly Irish-American, as were many railway workers at the time. “Idlish tarrier” also conveys something like “idle dawdler.” 182.16-8: “while all over up and down the four margins of this rancid Shem stuff the evilsmeller (who was devoted to Uldfader Sardanapalus) used to stipple endlessly inartistic portraits of himself:” Joyce’s proofs are full of marginal additions. I haven’t come across any “portraits of himself,” but see p. 308. 182.17: “evilsmeller:” both smells bad himself and sniffs out scandal in others 182.20: “Nichiabelli’s:” as McHugh notes, Machiavelli plus Old Nick, the devil – presumably because, throughout the Elizabethan era and later, a “Machiavel” was (OED) “an intriguer or schemer.” Stephen Dedalus chooses “cunning” as one of his three watchwords and likes to think of himself as a fox. 182.22: “love lyrics for the goyls:” female goys – i.e. non-Jewish young women. Courting them with love songs is the sort of thing that could get the Jewish Shem in trouble. 182.23: “tanner vuice:” a tanner (sixpence) voice would be bottom-of-the-barrel; a tenner (ten-pound) voice would be first-rate. 182.24: “stranded:” landed (McHugh) as in “landed gentry:” “Paolo” (.22) is either a duke or playing one whose income comes from extensive property measured by ("per yard" (.24)) the yard. 182.24-5: “Camebreech mannings:” Cambridge Manor, presumably the name of the duke’s estate. Also, compare “Cyclops” on flogging: “A rump and dozen, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on the breech.” Combined with (as McHugh says) “manners,” there is probably an innuendo on the theme of fashionable flagellation among England’s (Oxbridgean – both Cambridge (“Camebreech” (.24)) and Oxford (“hogsford” (.26)) are present) upper-crust men. 182.25: “cutting a great dash:” again, to strike a dash is to make a striking, usually favorable and fashionable, appearance. (Given 182.24-5 above (see note), I wonder whether “dash” echoes "gash.") Also, Morse code for “T” is a single dash, and in FW T stands for Tristan, the book’s definitive lover, sometimes telegraphing T’s to Issy. Compare 87.2, where the lover’s “morse mustaccents” are, I think, two horizontal dashes, one on each side, extending from under his nose. 182.26: “Fursday evenin:” a fashionable event, so wear your furs. (Men, too) 182.27: “inky…moostarshes:” he’s dyed his moustache. 182.28: “boric vaseline:” according to Wikipedia, boric acid is used as antiseptic and as an insecticide. Shem could do with both. 182.33: “blind of black sailcloth:” black sail in the Tristan story; a false (blind) signal engineered by the jealous second Iseult, it causes Tristan to lose hope and die. 182.34: “his wan phwinshogue:” his one remaining window, the (relatively) good eye. Also: Bloom is called a “pishogue” in “Cyclops.” None of the definitions I’ve checked, all of them connecting the word to witchcraft, seem to fit the case, there or here. I speculate that Joyce erred. 182.34-5: “soulcontracted son of the secret cell:” “secret cell” usually means a small room, unknown to most, either for hiding oneself or, as in A Tale of Two Cities, as an oubliette for extralegally imprisoning some undesirable. Fitting into one would likely require some contractibility. 182.35-6: “dejected into day and night:” injected into, day and night,...with the drugs to follow, either as addict or medical patient: supporting the latter reading, the sentence goes on to say that it’s “by” large numbers of “Queasisanos” (183.1-2), which I take to mean practitioners, including doctors, in sanatoriums, spas, etc. operating under the rubric Qui si Sana - Here one is Healthy. Also, see next entry. 182.36-183.1: “calicohydrants of zolfor:” “hydrate of sulphur” shows up in medical texts of Joyce’s time; I can’t determine what it’s for, but injecting it by the hydrant sounds extreme. Perhaps, simply the waters of sulphur springs, as featured in many spas, or what were called hydros 183.1: “scoppialamina:” identified by McHugh as scopolamine. Famous as a truth serum – which perhaps helps explain, if not justify, “the violent abuse of self and others” (.2-3) flowing out of Shem’s pen. 183.2-3: “abuse of self:” self-abuse: Victorian/Edwardian euphemism for masturbation 183.6: “stinksome inkenstink:” according to John Paul Riquelme, “The smell may owe something to the manner of storing the leather appliances for inking type in printing shops…The leather pelts were kept soft by soaking them in urine.” See 185.7 and note. 183.7: “puzzonal to the wrottel:” poisonous to the rabble, because it’s puzzling, and they’re stupid, which is why his writings make them wax wroth. 183.8: “Edam reeked:” in fact, Edam is among the least smelly of cheeses. 183.11: “burst loveletters:” French letters: condoms, alarmingly perforated 183.11: “stickyback snaps:” stamps. Compare Bloom in “Calypso:” “Stamps: stickyback pictures.” 183.16: “fallen lucifers, vestas which had served.” Both lucifers and vestas were smokers’ matches. Joyce, like Stephen Dedalus, smoked cigarettes. Also, vestal virgins served for thirty years, after which they were presumably free to stop being virginal. A “served” match would be one either snuffed or burned out. In “Aeolus,” Joyce plays around with “vesta” - “Vesta.” 183.17: “reversibles jackets:” reversible jackets can be worn inside out: either way looks like the outside. Still around. 183.17: “borrowed brogues:” in Ulysses, Stephen is wearing boots borrowed from Mulligan. In its main meaning, a brogue is a heavily rustic Irish accent. Judging from the recordings (although others may disagree), Joyce did not have one, but some of his characters (the Davin, of Portrait, for instance) do. 183.17: “blackeye lenses:” again, Joyce’s eye afflictions. Can refer to either the lenses of his eyes (“black” is the final stage of glaucoma) or the black glasses he sometimes wore, and had included in the César Abin portrait. Probably pertinent here that a black eye is conventionally the result of fisticuffs. 183.18: “falsehair shirts:” hair shirts, but not really: something to be worn by the pseudo-pious. 183.19: “counterfeit franks:” franks: insignia authorizing postage 183.20: “stumpling stones:” expression: stumps and stones 183.21-2: “solid object cast at goblins:” perhaps a reference to Luther, who famously threw an inkwell at the devil 183.23-4: “limerick damns:” the Ardnacrusha power plant dam was constructed on the Shannon River, about two miles from Limerick, in the 1920s. Also, as expletive, “damn!” may fit the sequence of “issue,” “ejaculations,” “tears, “ink,” and “spits” (.23-4). 183.26-7: “pro virgins:” Google Books first records “professional virgin” in 1927. Dublin’s Pro-cathedral is named for the Virgin Mary. 183.32: “borrowed plumes:” Robert Greene on Shakespeare: “an upstart Crow, beautified with our feathers.” Echoed in “Circe” 183.34: “broken wafers:” in some communions, the priest breaks the wafer into halves or quarters. 183.35: “fresh horrors from Hades:” the expression “fresh hell” was around well before Dorothy Parker made it famous. 183.36: "glass eyes for an eye:" besides being a manufactured glass replacement for a missing eye, a "glassy eye," according to Digger Dialects, is a look of disappointment. 183.36: “gloss teeth:” “glossy teeth” were long an advertising desideratum. 184.1: “sighs:” size. Compare 144.21. 184.2: “jas jos:” James Joyce 184.4: “chambermade music:” chamber in sense of Shem’s room, from which the noises recorded in .1-2 have been coming. Also, compare 164.15-6 and note. 184.7: “betwixtween:” expression: betwixt and between 184.7-8: “hawrors:” the horrors: the d.t.’s 184.9: “the Shaper have mercery:” capitalized, the Shaper is probably God, as in Hamlet’s “divinity that shapes our ends.” (Compare 278, Fn. 2.) Once again, mercury is the treatment for syphilis. 184.13: “the umpple does not fall very far from the dumpertree:” saying (see McHugh) that the apple does not fall very far from the tree usually means the equivalent of “Like father, like son.” In this case, the father is apparently (“umpple…dumper-”) Humpty Dumpty. 184.13: “lithargogalenu…for the sake of akes:” see McHugh. lithagogue was medicine for expelling kidney stones, which can cause severe pains (“akes” - aches) in the abdomen. 184.15: “Uncontrollable Birth:” birth control. See 11.33 and next item. 184.15-6: “Birth Preservativation:” cf. “rubber preservative” of “Ithaca” – i.e. condom 184.18: "potched:" Yiddish potchkeh, to fuss around inexpertly and inefficiently 184.19: “frulling fredonnance:” trilling resonance 184.20: “Amarilla:” see 180.10 and note. 184.24: “for all regale:” as in, performed before the crowned heads of Europe 184.25: “the legs he left behind him:” eggs (he's making an omelette) have no legs, a point made in the song he’s (“chanting” (.24)) “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye,” about a soldier returned from the war: “Ye haven’t an arm, ye haven’t a leg, Ye’re an armless, boneless, chickenless egg” - lines also echoed at 81.22-3. 184.25: “fun…fan:” Van…Van 184.27: “oeufs à la Madame Gabrielle de l’Eglise:” very long shot here: possible allusion to the Madame Grissel Steevens mentioned in “Oxen of the Sun?” She was a Dublin benefactor, who, because she wore a veil and because no good deed goes unpunished, was rumored to have the face of a pig. (Hence, perhaps, ham and eggs.) She founded Dublin’s first public hospital; Swift was later a governor; his (“Huster’s” (.22)) Esther Johnson was a patron. 184.28: “Meinfelde…pomme de ciel:” minefield, bomb (from the sky) 184.35: “Layteacher:” a lay teacher is a teacher in parochial school who (unlike all four of the “masters” here) is not a member of the clergy. Given that FW’s ass typically lags behind, probably an overtone of late 184.36: “Ah ho!:” sound of ass’s braying 184.36-185.1: “His costive Satan’s antimonian manganese limolitmious nature never needed such an alcove:” “alcove” presumably refers back to “what was meant for a closet” (185.32-3); “closet” in context can mean either a private room or a water closet. “Costive” means constipated; antimony pills and milk of magnesia have both been, at times, prescribed as laxatives. Both litmus (perhaps a (very) approximate echo of “litmus paper” in “limolitmious nature” here) and lithium have had medical applications, although apparently not for matters digestive. 185.4-5: “boycotted him of all muttonsuet candles and romeruled stationery:” to prevent him from writing in prison. A kind of ink can be made out of suet and ash; “romeruled stationery” is paper available for writing. (Rome rule not Home Rule: the Church, not a free Ireland, is in charge.) As for what follows: human urine, feces, and semen have all, at one time or other, furnished the raw material for furtive writing by prisoners or spies, and see note to .7. 185.6: ”wildgoup’s chase across the kathartic ocean:” Mink: “The barnacle goose breeds only in the Arctic seas.” Katharsis, of course, is part of the excremental element in these lines. 185.7: “sensitive paper from his own end:” for “sensitive,” see 238.8-9 and note. Corresponding to “stationery” (.5), this is both (sensitive) toilet paper (for his (sensitive) “end,” bottom) and, it seems, his arse as writing surface – quite a trick, but the account does go on to say that he wrote “over every square inch of…his own body” (.35-6). (Maybe the practice in “murderous mirrorhand” (170.31) helped; maybe, come to that, “murderous” may include merde.) 185.7: “synthetic ink:” again, some household recipes for ink included human urine. Compare next entry. 185.5-8: “wit’s waste:” compare 21.16, where “wit” is urine. 185.10: “blushfed:” overtone of blush-red. Cardinals are being described (see McHugh), and cardinals wear red. The main point of this passage is that, if truth were told, they would have something to blush about – which is why their Anglican counterpart, at least equally culpable (see McHugh), would be like the sinner who can see the mote in another’s eye but not the beam in his own, and should be thankful that he can’t read the Latin of the Catholic Church, especially in the passage that follows. 185.11-2: “brand of scarlet on the brow of her of Babylon” whore of Babylon – as McHugh says, one of many Protestant epithets for the Catholic Church. “Brand of scarlet” mixes in the mark of Cain as well. 185.11-3: “tunga…the pink one in his own damned cheek:” expression: tongue in cheek. (Also, compare “your dimned chink” (484.16), where an alleged arriviste, in this case Chinese, is being abused for impertinently not knowing his place – for having too much (“chink”) “cheek.”) 185.24: “Orionis:” according to folk-etymology tradition, Orion gets his name from “urine:” he was conceived when Zeus, Poseidon, and Hermes urinated (“faked O’Ryan’s” (.25): fecit urinae) on a bull-hide. Fits the context, surely. See also 128.11 and 254.1, with notes. 185.27-32: “the fulminant firman which enjoins on the tremylose terrian that, when the call comes, he shall produce nichthemerically from his unheavenly body a no uncertain quantity of obscene matter not protected by copriright in the United Stars of Ourania or bedeed and bedood and bedang and bedung to him:” the overall sense is that inspiration comes when lightning strikes (outward equivalent of brainstorms) and scares the shit (and piss) out of him. “Fulminant firman:” thundering firmament. “Tremylose terrian:” earth, trembling from having been struck by lightning, or fearing it. (Compare 194.14: “tremours of Thundery,” and 549.8: “trembling sod.”) Orion is a constellation of stars; the United States flag is the “stars and stripes.” Until 1933, Joyce’s Ulysses was banned by American courts, on grounds of being “obscene matter” and altogether unhealthy. This was ironic, considering that its “Ourania” flag memorializes a demigod (see .24 and note) created out of piss. (On the other hand, and given the context of thundery weather, the spelling of “Orania” recalls the authentic, as opposed to folk, etymology, from the Greek Ωπίων for “stormy weather.” Orion rises in the sky during the season of storms.) As elsewhere in FW, “when the call comes” means both following the promptings of one’s muse and following the call of nature to the toilet. 185.28: “when the call comes:” euphemistic “when nature calls.” 185.31: “unheavenly body:” as constellation (that is, “United Stars” (.31)), Orion (see note to .24) is a “heavenly body;” the recipient here is the opposite. 185.31: “United Stars of Ourania:” the white stars on the blue field of the American flag are meant to signify the essential unity of a country which has sometimes, 1861-1865 for instance, been anything but united. Ireland, to say the least, has had similar problems; hence probable echoes of “Orange” and “Anne” – the Liffey, etc. - in “Ourania.” Bloom, in “Eumaeus,” on the newspaper United Ireland: “a by no means by the by appropriate appellative.” 185.32: “double dye:” double dyed: OED: “dyed twice…deeply imbued or stained;” all the examples given have to do with religion or character. 185.32: “brought to blood heat:” literally, 98.6 degrees, but it would have to be considerably hotter to perform the chemical action being described. Overtone of “in hot blood,” “hotblooded.” 185.33: “gallic acid on iron ore:” the combination of continental (especially French) influence on Irish origin which produced (is producing) FW. Gallic acid (ink) is made from oak galls, which are famously bitter. Joyce wrote FW, set in Ireland, in Paris. 185.33-4: “flashly, faithly, nastily, appropriately:” sounds like a Viconian four-stage sequence; 186.1-2 will follow with another Viconian note. 185.35: “alchemist:” Gwendolyn Bays, in The Orphic Vision, p. 213: “According to one of the legends, alchemy was supposed to have originated with Noah’s son, Shem or Chem; from his name, together with the Arabic article, the word alchemy was derived.” 185.35-6: “foolscap:” conical fool’s caps were worn by ME students who, like Scotus and Bruno, were found out to have disagreed with Aristotle. At times, Joyce was of their company. 185.36: “corrosive sublimation:” corrosive sublimate of mercury (McHugh) was once used in the treatment of syphilis. It was applied directly to the (“integument” (186.1)) skin. 186.1-2: “marryvoising :” marvelous, many-voiced; compare Stephen’s Portrait ideal of a “language manycoloured and richly storied.” 186.1-2: “moodmoulded cyclewheeling history:” the history handed down depends to some extent on the state of mind – mood - of the person writing it. 186.3: “life unlivable:” “Life is worth living” was a common expression in Christian homiletics; compare 230.25. 186.4: "through the slow fires of consciousness:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.026 includes the note "slow fire," from a passage from Chateaubriand: "Every province has its own torture: slow fire in Mesopotamia..." "Slow fire:" burning someone to death, slowly 186.5: “common to allflesh:” “the way of all flesh” 186.6-10: “but with each word that would not pass away the squidself which he had squirtscreened from the crystalline world waned chagreenold and doriangrayer in its dudhud This exists that isits after having seen said we know. And dabal take dabnal! And the dal dabal dab aldanabal!:” no single source, I think, but the sentiment is one voiced by many writers – that conceptions which seem brilliantly illuminative when first thought can become faded and familiar when put down on paper, or, if not then, certainly not much later. Wordsworth compares a stone glistening in a running brook to the same stone taken out and dried to dullness; Strachey compares paints when wet to paints when dried; Plath compares a live rainbow trout in a stream to a dead trout caught and left to turn brown. Note the echo of “banal” in “aldanabal.” All of Stephen’ s calamitous “epiphanies” in Portrait wind up being outworn and vulgarized. 186.6: “each word that would not pass away:” given the context (see previous note) this is bad news, not good: words, once written down, just sit there on the page, getting old. 186.8-9: “squirtscreened from the crystalline world waned chagreenold and doriangrayer in its dudhud:” symptoms of glaucoma, whose progressive stages are green, grey, and black. “Crystalline:” “Glaucoma became defined in antiquity and the Middle Ages as a disorder of the crystalline lens.” (From a 2014 medical publication on the history of the condition.) The “squirtscreen” probably refers to symptomatic exudations from the lens; compare Joyce’s poem “Molly Bloomigan:” “My left eye is awash and his neighbour full of water.” 186.11: “asaspenking:” includes “-penking” (pen king) at .14-5, like Sir Tristram out to “wielderfight his penisolate war” (3.6), he will be triumphantly “brandishing his bellbearing stylo, the shining keyman.” To “bear the bell” is to lead the group or pack. 186.12-3: “deathfête of Saint of Saint Ignaceous:” St. Ignatius’ feast day (and date of death) is July 31. 186.15-7: “bellbearing stylo, the shining keyman of the wilds of change:” the newfangled ballpoint pens do not get dipped in ink. That is why they are the “shining keyman” of the wave of the future, and it is perhaps sauce for the gander if an aging avant-gardist like Shem should now be displaced in turn by such innovations. Ballpoint pens were mainly experimental novelties throughout almost the whole of FW’s composition. 186.17: “thought it was ink:” was wrong to mistake the ballpoint pen for a fountain pen, but right in the main point – that it was a pen 186.19: “Sistersen:” variant on the manservant’s name; this annotator thinks that the default is Sackerson (530.22), name of the bearpit bear mentioned in “Scylla and Charybdis.” 186.19: “Kruis-Kroon-Kraal:” like the Ku Klux Klan, pre-Apartheid South Africa was racially repressive. The system’s (significantly, “a blond cop” (.17)) enforcer here is an “allwhite poors guardian” (187.2); compare America’s “poor white trash,” the K K K’s main constituency. 186.20-1: “big the dog the dig the bog the bagger the dugger the begadag degabug:” I suggest that this a cartoonish rendering of the constable’s rhythmic rambling, anticipated by the “bedeed and bedood and bedang and bedung” of the previous page (185.31-2) as he pounds his beat, twirling his nightstick. He sounds like a lunkhead, which would fit the stereotype. Probably a kind of call-and-response to .10 186.21-2: “pollute stoties to save him, this the quemquem, that the quum, from the ligatureliablous:” summing up a listing of all the story titles of Dubliners, beginning with “Sistersen” at .19, this forecasts the charges against it: polluted stories, literary libel, subject to litigation. “Pollute stoties” may be an equal-opposite “polite societies,” the ones out to “save him.” 186.22: "quemquem:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.068 has "cancan / (quamquam)," identified by the editors as French argot for "Gossip, slander." 186.23: “foul clay:” the general sense here is that the constable shows up in order to keep Shem from being pelted with “little clots” – clods – of the stuff. (At 69.29, the male principal is being “clodded” by his attackers.) In biblical commentary, foul clay is sometimes symbolic of corrupt human nature, in need of purifying as clay is cleansed and hardened in a furnace. 186.24: “on looks:” on sight; because of one’s looks. (Shem’s intermittent blackness and/or dirtiness, for instance.) Also, onlookers, entertained by the (“mobmauling” (.23)) mob’s mauling 186.24: “tenderfoot:” 1. a greenhorn new to frontier life. 2. Capitalized, beginning rank in the Boy Scouts 186.26: “reeling more to the right than he lurched to the left:” an over-precise constable’s report of someone walking drunkenly 186.27: “protoprostitute:” first example of “the world’s oldest profession?” 186.27: “(stp!):" see 124.4-5. 186.27: ”a little pigeoness somewhere with his arch girl:” a dove – pigeon – with an olive branch first signals the covenant between Noah and God confirmed by the – arc – rainbow. May also include the Virgin Mary, who in the book remembered by Stephen in “Proteus” was impregnated by a pigeon. 186.28: “somewhure with his arch girl, Arcoiris smockname of Mergyt:” Issy is the rainbow girl, but: “fornicate” derives from Latin fornix, for “arch,” because Roman prostitutes (the “whore” sounded in “somewhure,” and compare .27) traditionally hung out under arches. Marge – “Mergyt” – is always or almost always Issy’s less-reputable double. For a woman, to be in one’s “smock” (see Pope’s Essay on Women) is to be in déshabillê. 186.29: “as he was butting in rand the coyner:” a rand is/was a South African coin – another sign of the “cop”’s – the “he” here - South African, anti-black affiliation. The embodiment of clumsy authority, he is butting in. 186.31: “his boardelhouse:” his bawdyhouse. What “Circe” calls the “bulldog on the premises:” a policeman paid under the table to keep the place open for business 186.33: “the incapable:” Bloom in “Circe,” on the alcoholically incapacitated Stephen, to the Watch: “You see he’s incapable.” 186.33-4: “reparteed with a selfevitant subtlety so obviously spurious:” a rapid-fire segue of voices: from the self-congratulatory Shem, thinking he’s showing to advantage, to his accuser, thinking the opposite 186.34: “raising his hair:” hair-raising: terrifying: Shem’ s hair is standing on end. 186.35-6: “Portsymasser and Purtsymessus and Pertsymiss and Partsymasters:” Christmas gifts for the members of the Porter family; probably also a bribe for the porter-portmaster-postmaster to let him in: yet another disputed FW threshold. (Shem will slip through somehow, much to the guardian’s consternation.) I suggest that this revisits 62.28-34, with its “suspicious parcel.” 186.36: “prance:” dancing the fandango (187.1) involves a certain amount of prancing around. 187.1: “with a shillto shallot slipny stripny, in he skittled:” aside from this being some fancy footwork on the dance floor, compare Bloom in Nighttown: “(He swerves, sidles, stepaside, slips past and on.)” “Skittled:” skittered, perhaps with overtone of skedaddled 187.2: “Swikey!:” British working-class interjection: Crikey! Probably comes from the cop 187.2: “allwhite poors:” “poors:” anagram of “spoor.” Also – again, South Africa - all-white Boers. The cop’s job is to serve all-white interests against those of lesser breeds without the law. 187.2: “guardant:” Irish police are Garda. 187.2: “balltossic:” Sweden is on the Baltic; the manservant is typically of Scandinavian/Viking origin; hence his blond hair (186.17). Drawing on a popular stereotype of the time, FW’s Swedes are large, stolid, and thick. 187.5 “current:” course 187.7: “the caledonian capacity for Lieutuvisky of the caftan’s wineskin:” he can drink as much (Scotch) whiskey as a Scotsman. Impressive. Given South Africa context, “caftan” probably echoes “kaffir.” 187.8: “caftan’ s wineskin:” Kaffir’ s wine-dark skin 187.10: “aschu:” achoo 187.10: “outgift of the dead med dirt:” news of the day, along with - mit - dirt – i.e., malicious gossip 187.11: “arrahbejibbers:” Arrah Begorah: stage-Irish signature 187.11: “conspuent to:” congruent to, according to 187.11: “conspuent to the dominical order:” by papal order, Dominicans were in charge of the Inquisition – one reason for the folk-etymological tradition that their name identified them as “Hounds [or Dogs] of God.” 187.12-3: “namely coon at bringer at home two gallonts, as per royal, full poultry till murder:” he was mainly going to bring home two royal gallons of porter to his mother. (According to the source here, a likely story.) Also: “as per royal:” as per order. (“Royal gallon:” Google Books has exactly one hit, in 1917; it’s not clear whether it’s an alternate term for “imperial gallon,” which was and is somewhat larger than the American gallon.) 187.15-23: “Polthergeistkotzdondherhoploits…thirst.” I go along with this reaction: even by FW standards, 186.29-187.14, in particular the last twelve lines, was, like most reports of who-said-what legal interactions in this book, exceptionally garbled and confounding. 187.16: “porter:” the “poultry” of .13 187.16: “which pair?:” probably alludes to “two gallonts” (.11-2) 187.16: "coon:" again, pejorative term for African-American. (In “Circe” it means that; in “Hades” it seems to mean something like “loser;” in “Cyclops,” in a song about “coon”s, the word is changed to “Jew.”) Lots of race-themed insults in this paragraph 187.16: “undilligence:” unintelligence. The constable’s thickness is a constant. 187.17: “plutherotested:” plethora plus: too much 187.18-20: “Perpending that Putterick O’Purcell pulls the coald stone out of Winterwater’s and Silder Seas sing for Harreng Our Keng:” amidst much churn, a pretty clear story: Roderick O’Connor was the last High King of Ireland, thus the last to be crowned on the Stone of Scone – Ireland’s Lia Fáil - which is now in Westminster Cathedral. When – pending - the stone is finally returned to its rightful place, a new high king will be crowned and there will be such rejoicing that even the fish in the sea (herrings, to be precise) will sing along, perhaps under the impression that one of their own (Herring, Our King) is being crowned. (Compare 245.9-13, where “pesciolines” in a fishbowl dispute the nature of the Trinity in fishy terms – procession, for instance, becoming “poissission.” Finnegans Wake is a strange book.) Also, almost certainly an echo of John of Gaunt’s “This royal throne of kings…This precious stone set in the silver sea:” the king to emerge from that narrative, and to be crowned in Westminster on the Stone of Scone, will be named (“Harreng”) Henry/Harry. (With, to be sure, overtone of hanging.) There seems to be parallel, equally fantastic strain here, about someone pulling a plug out of the ocean bottom; if “Silder Seas” is also Holland’s Zuider Zee (note echo of Amsterdam at .22), held back by dikes, the herrings will indeed take over when the land is inundated. The overall point is that all this is in the category of “When pigs fly:” “Perpending” these unlikely events, we’re not going to put up with such gobbledygook any longer. 187.20: “John Phibbs march!:” John Philip Sousa, American “march king” 187.22: “discussing Tamstar Ham:” McHugh: Amsterdam. Again, I suggest that the chance of Amsterdam’s being flooded was one of the subjects just being discussed. Also, as Noah’s son, Ham was the originator of the colored races, and as such, in this race-obsessed chapter, he repeatedly doubles and/or alternates with the Jewish Shem. 187.24: “himother:” his other 187.25-6: “feature:” in Irish pronunciation, rhymes with “nature” 187.26: “or Brown Bess’s bung’s gone bandy:” if (McHugh) a musket’s bunghole had gotten bent out of shape, the gun would misfire or fail to fire and the “bird” (.25) being aimed at would be safe. 187.27: “bruise and braise:” fowl and other game were sometimes “bruised” (pounded) before being cooked, e.g. browned (“brune”d .26) and braised. The speaker here intends to cook his bird after killing it. 187.28: “Nayman:” opposite of “Yes-man.” Also: McHugh has “Nestorian Shepherd who became…Prester John” – therefore, I suggest, a (typical, for this sequence) mis-hearing of “Tamstar Ham” (.22). 187.29-30: “the third person singular:” presumably referring to the narrative from 169.1 to 187.14 187.30: “deponent:” your annotator could of course be wrong here, but a frustrating internet search suggests that “deponent verbs” in English are hard to define and extremely hard to find, “I am born” being about the closest thing to an agreed-on example. In any case I can’t see how it applies to the language of this chapter. 187.35: “Macadamson:” see 126.4 and note. 187.36: “uterim:” a uterine brother or sister is one born of the same mother but not of the same father. 188.1-4: “your last wetbed confession…put your hands in my hands…nightslong homely little confiteor…things:” bedwetting is probably the original sin of childhood, wet dreams the original sin of (male) adolescence; in Portrait, chapter three, Stephen’s confessor has clearly expected to hear (yet another) kid’s anguished confession about wet dreams and/or masturbation, so much so that he keeps going on as usual even after Stephen has admitted to worse. “Hands in my hands:” as opposed to being you-know-where. “Nightslong:” nice long; (tempting to hear an echo of “schlong.”) “Homely:” homily 188.11-2: “roaring the other place:” Hamlet: “Seek him i’ the other place [hell] yourself.” The phrase “roaring hell,” fairly common on its own, appears in George Moore’s The Lake, as spoken by the character Oliver Gogarty. 188.13: “a nogger among the blankards:” blackguards, commonly pronounced “blaggards.” Counterpointed with (“nogger”) nigger: a classic FW equal-opposite – black as ("blank-"/blanc) white 188.17: “intensely doubtful soul:” compare Richard Rowan’s “restless wounding doubt,” the basis of his relationship to Bertha, at the end of Exiles. 188.18: “god in the manger:” the baby Jesus. According to the Gospel of Luke, Shem was an ancestor of Jesus: see next entry. Possible overtone of mange, as in mangy dog 188.18-9: “Shehohem:” Elohim: meaning “Gods,” one of Hebrew’s seven holy names for YHWH 188.19: “neither serve not let serve:” in addition to Portrait’s “non serviam,” Stephen in “Proteus:” “You will not be master of others nor their slave.” 188.19: “pray nor let pray:” “let,” I suggest, in the sense not of allow but of prevent. Shem is latitudinarian, not authoritarian: if others want to waste their time praying, that’s fine with him. 188.20-25: “And here, pay the piety, must I too nerve myself to pray for the loss of selfrespect to equip me for the horrible necessity of scandalisang (my dear sisters, are you ready?) by sloughing off my hope and tremors while we all swin together in the pool of Sodom? I shall shiver for my purity while they will weepbig for your sins:” gist: although it’s painfully degrading, I’m hereby (temporarily) lowering myself to your level in order to honestly describe how low you’ve sunk. (The upshot will have to do, of course, with sex.) 188.21: “loss of selfrespect:” Stephen in Portrait, chapter five, on abandoning Catholicism but not becoming a Protestant: “I said that I had lost the faith…but not that I had lost selfrespect.” 188.23-4: “sloughing off my hope and tremors:” stripping off my hat and trousers (so that I can go (“swin” (.23) swimming). Also, for “tremors,” see “shivers” (.24 and note). 188.23-4: “swin together in the pool of Sodom:” the Dead Sea, plus Sodom, known for its swinishness 188.24: “I shall shiver:” probably on first entering the water of “the pool,” or perhaps just from undressing; compare Stephen, Portrait, chapter 1: “you always felt like a shiver when you let down your trousers.” 188.25: “Away with covered words:” expression: a way with words, which, like Shem, Joyce certainly had. “Covered words:” code language for something secret or shameful. Gist: away with them; he is going to stop extenuating and start using plain language, however ugly. 188.25: “Solemonites:” sodomites 188.26: “Badsheetbaths:” Solomon’s Sheba as well as David’s Bathsheba. David first fell for Bathsheba when he saw her in her bath, and proceeded to behave very badly indeed. Also, patients taking the “water cure” at spas (frequently named “Bad”-something) were wrapped in bedsheets and lowered into a bath. See .26-7 and entry. 188.26: “That inharmonious detail:” compare 109.24. Seems to mean clothes – one kind of covering (see .25 and note) we’ve done away with 188.26-7: “cold caldor:” water cures, then and now, often include what is sometimes called the “cold plunge” – a sudden change from hot (caldor) to icy water. Also, an example from Bruno of the coincidence of contraries: cold water can feel hot at first. 188.27: “opprobro of underslung pipes:” apropos of spas and such, we are perforce also on the subject of plumbing. Also, male genitals (McHugh: “pipes”) on mammals are typically underslung. Also, “opprobro:” the opprobrious brother; see next entry. 188.28: “johnjacobs:” again, JJ. Also, Jacob/Jacobus is the Latin form of James, and – once again (see 168.18 and note) – the first two children born to Joyce’s parents were named John and James, the first of whom died shortly after birth, thus bestowing the (considerable) privileges of primogeniture on James Joyce, a Jacob not an Esau. A Jacobite was a follower of the Stuarts, whose cause, with Ireland’s, suffered defeat at the Boyne. “Jacobs” (see McHugh) is probably prompted by “pipes” (.27): compare the “Jacob’s pipe” of “Oxen of the Sun.” 188.29: “puerile in your tubsuit:” early 20th century fashion ads include many instances of the “tub suit,” for girls, women, and, with (“buttonlegs” (.29)) short legs, boys. 188.29-30: “handsome present of a selfraising syringe and twin feeders:” speaking of puerile: one of the few places where FW may perhaps be charged with being too obvious. “Hand-” in “handsome” probably implies masturbation: see .1-4 and note, .34 and note. 188.33-4: “as bold a stroke now as the curate that christened you:” apologies if this is obvious, but the innuendo is that the curate’s bold stroke (compare Blazes Boylan’s “bold hand”) was in the manner of vigorous intercourse. It may suggest that the curate – clergy are always, for Joyce, under suspicion in such matters – was actually his father. Be that as it may, he should go forth and do likewise. 188.34: “sonny:” according to Ellmann, Joyce’s childhood nickname was “Sunny Jim.” 188.34: “douth-the-candle:” dousing the candles is the job of the altar boy. Innuendo of dousing his own (phallic) candle, rather than doing his duty by marrying and (vigorously) repopulating Ireland – often proclaimed a major (male) imperative in the decades following Famine and emigration. 188.35-6: “by the hungered head and the angered thousand:” by the hundred head and the hundred thousand: biblical language for the holdings of a prosperous patriarch, but here the Irish hordes are hungry and angry. 189.1: “wious pish:” pish: rubbish, silly nonsense. Wise (“wious”) pish goes with “sophomore” (see next item) – a Brunonian equal-opposite. 189.1-4: “soph…morosity:” sophomore (wise fool) 189.3: “nature, (:” almost exactly half the time, Joyce will insert a comma before rather than after an item in parentheses; the other half of the time, he follows standard practice. No idea why 189.3-4: “you see I have read your theology for you:” probably refers to “occasions of failing” (.2) – in Catholic theology, the phrase “occasion of sin” signifies situations conducive to wrong-doing. 189.5: “trysting by tantrums:” thrusting by turns; Tristram’s tantric love-making 189.6: “lubbock’s:” overtone of “lubber’s” – that is, a cloddish person. “Lubber” in this sense appears in “Scylla and Charybdis” and several times in FW. 189.8: “even extruding your strabismal:” even excluding your abysmal 189.10: “popeyed:” includes “pope” 189.12: “congested around you:” “Nausicaa” includes a joke about a chronic masturbator who works for “the Congested Districts Board;” “Cyclops” has more in the same line. To some extent at least, the ensuing vision of sexually avid women is a product of feverish fantasy, projected by Shaun onto Shem, who in turn re-projects onto whatever. The innuendo becomes clearer when “congested…Chalwador” (.12-4) is moved to follow “honour left” (.16) – see McHugh. (Oxford editors, on the other hand, make no such change.) 189.16: “if they have only their honour left:” traditionally, for women, “honour” means chastity – here their one remaining resource, which the women of this account seem eager to squander. 189.18-9: "one son of Sorge:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.18.273 has the excerpt "Son of Sorrow / d of Anguish." For "Anguish," see McHugh. Joyce's identified source, "The Story of Sir Tristram and La Belle Iseult," from Cornwall's Wonderland, by Mabel Quiller-Couch, includes this: "When she saw her little son her tears fell fast on his baby face. 'Call him Tristram,' she said, 'for he was born in sorrow.'" Perhaps also Jesus, the "man of sorrows." Compare 82.28 with note, and 344.5: "Weepon, weeponder, song of sorrowman!" - clearly including Solomon (with his song of songs), Jesus as man of sorrows, and, given context, probably Tristan/Tristam, as song-singing troubadour. 189.18-9: “daughters of Anguish:” ancient Irish festival, “Daughters of Aengus” is February 23. Tradition that Aengus had twelve sons and twelve daughters 189.20: “aying:” saying “aye:” “I do” in a wedding. Repeated at line 26 189.22: “collarwork:” dollar work 189.22-3: “the price of one ping pang:” in context (currency) – the sound of a coin, for instance striking a counter, as in “Sirens:” “coin rang. Clock clacked.” Probably also an overtone of expression “not worth a pin” or something similar 189.23: “trillt:” trill it 189.24: “(two-we! two-one!):” “Man and wife is one flesh.” 189.24-5: “plain gold band:” in the O. Henry story cited by McHugh, refers to both a wedding ring and the secret sisterhood of married women 189.26: “bridemuredemeanour:” for folktale tradition of sacrificial immurement of brides, see Wikipedia article on “Immurement.” Also, next entry 189.28: “premature gravedigger:” for premature burial 189.30-6: "you...have cutely foretold...the reducing or records to ashes:" Joyce's note in Notebook VI.B.145: "[Shem siglum] predicts past." The Custom House, site of the Public Records Office, was burned in 1922, before Joyce began work on FW. 189.31: “cutely:” acutely 189.33: “by the auspices of that raven cloud, your shade, and by the auguries of rooks in parlament:” “parliament of" either owls or rooks: like “pride of lions,” a traditional collective noun. “Auspices,” from the Latin for bird-observer, is divination by reading bird entrails. (Joyce sometimes claimed prophetic powers for his writings: Ulysses stacks the deck with intimations of events – WW I, especially – that occurred after 1904.) Chaucer’s Parliament of Fowls is a prophetic dream vision. 190.3-4: “the more carrots you chop:” the first Google Books entry for “karate chop” is 1900. 190.6: “the more potherbs you pound:” prior to cooking – in stew, for instance – pot herbs are sometimes “pounded” with mortar and pestle. 190.8: “gruel:” back-formation from “grueling.” Also, thin soup, proverbially served to paupers and prisoners 190.15: “clerical:” both clergy and clerk. (Joyce had a clerkly job in a Rome bank, didn’t like it.) 190.18-9: “taken the scales off boilers:” removing mineral deposits – scales – from the insides of boilers is, or was, a real job. 190.19: “boskop of Yorek:” the Archbishop of York: one of England’ s two archbishops, second only to the Archbishop of Canterbury 190.19: “do your little thrupenny bit:” in WW I, to “do your bit” was to enlist. Exempted from conscription, Irishmen were constantly the targets of war propaganda urging them to sign up anyway. Joyce didn’t. 190.20: “and thus earn from the nation true thanks:” in Exiles, Richard Rowan is nettled by an article’s saying that he had left Ireland “in her hour of need.” 190.22: “you drew the first watergasp:” drew your first breath, plus perhaps, later, choked on the water in the baptismal font 190.24: “long of us:” along of us: idiom for along with us 190.26-7: “paraffin smoker under yours (I hope that chimney’s clear):” paraffin was/is used in candles and heaters. The brothers, schoolboyishly horsing around, are playing at setting each other on fire; if things get out of hand, a chimney will be helpful. 190.28-9: “slackly shirking both your bullet and your billet:” see .19 and note, .29 and note. “Slacker” and “shirker” were both WW I epithets for unenlisted army-age males; “bullet” and “billet,” of course, fits the military context. Joyce sat out the war in Switzerland. 190.28-9: “you beat it backwards like Boulanger:” to the political right, during the Dreyfus affair, General Boulanger was supposed to be France’s savior, but at the critical moment he funked it and retreated. 190.29: “combed the grass:” grasscomber: sailor’s pejorative term for farmer. Also, Joyce Notebook VI.B.5001: "Walk backward & restore / blades of grass to position." 190.29: “to sing us a song of alibi, (the cuthone call:” Brewer: “Cuthbert: A name given during World War I to fit and healthy men of military age who, particularly in Government office, were not ‘combed out’ to go into the Army” 190.34: “scatchophily:” scatology, which Joyce was often accused of producing. Also, scotophilic: dark-loving, in this book of the night. (Also, McHugh has “scatophily,” that is the sexual (and, yes, I am going to use this word) perversion of being stimulated by another’s excrement; some of Joyce’s letters to Nora qualify.) 190.34-5: “thoroughpaste prosodite:” inditer (writer) of third-rate prose. Joyce once resignedly called himself a “scissors-and-paste” writer. 190.36: “an Irish emigrant the wrong way out:” presumably because (191.4) “Europasianised;” by contrast the right sort of exile, for instance Shaun in Book III, went west to America, “to quest a cashy job” (562.31). 191.1: “unfrillfrocked:” as in unfrocked clergy; this one’s frock was frilly. (Joyce jokes about the supposed effeminacy of clerical clothing in Portrait, chapter five, and in “Oxen of the Sun.”) 191.1-2: “quackfriar, you (will you for the laugh of Scheekspair:” Mink: (Will) Shakespeare “frequently acted” in the Blackfriars Theatre. 191.2-3: “semisemitic:” Leopold Bloom is, probably, half-Jewish. Perhaps Shem is too, or maybe this is just a way of saying that, if he were honest, he would fess up to all of his Jewish inheritance. 191.3: “serendipitist:” Joyce described his own writing as a matter of serendipity: stumbling around in the dark and hitting on just the right item. 191.3: “(thanks, I think that describes you):” that is, Shem has just proposed the writerly phrase (definitely out of this speaker’s range) “semisemitic serendipitist.” 191.6-8: “whiles our liege, tilyet a stranger in the frontyard of his happiness, is taking (heal helper! One gob, one gap, one gulp and gorger of all!) his refreshment?:” another allusion to the Christmas almanac (sometimes calendar) picture hanging on the pub’s wall; again, featuring a standard “Stirrup Cup”/“Deoc an Doris” (spelling varies) scene 191.7-8: “one gulp and gorger of all:” see previous item. The hunter in the picture either drinks and eats or is about to; also, Hitler (see McHugh) is consuming Europe. (The original of the chapter was published in 1927; obviously this part must have been added in the middle-late 1930’s. Ellmann records Joyce’s disgusted “Give him Europe!” at the time of Munich, late September, 1938.) 191.9-33: “There…worked!:” By marked contrast with himself, Shem’s brother is an angel, which to say he is in heaven, which is to say he has died. Again, I suggest that some of this traces to the fact of Joyce’s older brother, who died shortly after birth. Never having known sin, he is “Immaculatus” (.13), “that pure one” (.14), in “celestine circles [compare the Paradiso vision of heaven, recapitulated in Stephen’s “cyclic” epiphany at the end of Portrait, chapter four] before he sped aloft” (.15-6), a “spiritual physician that was to be” (.16), “a chum of the angelets” (that is, junior angels (18-9)), “in the big justright home where Dodd [Dad, God, German for death] lives,” etc. Shem can no more compete with him than Gabriel Conroy can with the died-for-love Michael Furey. 191.9-10: “orisons of the speediest in Novena:” a novena, presumably, includes orisons. 191.10: “Novara Avenue:” In Bray, a street somewhat less than half a mile’s walk from 1 Martello Terrace, Joyce’s family home from 1887 to 1892, where Joyce “grew up” (.9) from age five to nine. As (.9) “Patripodium,” the latter address was a (McHugh) patrimonium, family estate. 191.11: “oaf, outofwork, one remove from an unwashed savage:” evidently a brief shift into direct address 191.16: “spiritual physician that was to be:” would have been a priest if he had lived 191.17: “seducing every sense to selfwilling celebesty:” compare Stephen in the first pages of Portrait, chapter four, systematically mortifying each of the five senses. 191.18: “counterfeuille:” flyleaf – here so named, I hazard, because, as in most books, FW included, it’s opposite the book’s first (leaf) page. Paired with (.32) “frontispecs,” frontispiece 191.18: “lotetree:” as Sidrat al-Muntaha: in Islamic tradition, the verge of the seventh heaven, the endpoint to creation at the edge of absolute divinity 191.19-20: “gamefellow:” playmate 191.24: “like musk:” likeness 191.27: “daybroken:” daybreak’s 191.29-30: “with one hand…bosom foe:” yet another allusion to the Claddagh ring – two hands holding a crowned heart. Always or almost always a signature of the twins 191.30: “speller:” espelho: again, Portuguese for mirror. See 179.30 and note, first note to 143.13 The gist of this passage recalls Wilde on Caliban, quoted in “Telemachus:” angry if he doesn’t recognize his face in the mirror, angry if he does. 191.31: “cut a pretty figure in the focus:” eyeglasses, by focusing, reduce – cut - blur. Also: to cut a (pretty) figure is to show to advantage. His rival doesn’t like that. Also, by one definition (again, see 143.13 and first note) an espello is a reflector mirror, bringing its reflection to a focus. 191.32: “frontispecs:” eyeglasses, counterpointing (.30) mirror. One’s reflective, one’s transparent: brother sees other or brother sees self, isn’t happy with either 191.32: “a continent:” Noah’s sons – Jews, blacks, whites – divided the known continents between them. 191.32-3: “to find out how his innards worked!:” expression of eviscerative homicidal intent, ubiquitous in the writings of Joyce’s contemporary P. G. Wodehouse: wanting to “see the colour of someone’s insides.” Also, Joyce the writer as pitiless psychological/sociological anatomist 191.34-6: “Ever read that greatgrand landfather of our visionbuilders, Baaboo, the bourgeoismeister, who thought to touch both himmels at the punt of his risen stiffstaff:” pretty clearly based on the Joyce family’s tradition of ancestral connection with John O’Connell, as recounted in Ellmann’s biography (1984) pages 11-2. Joyce’s great-grandfather was an agitator against landlords (“greatgrand landfather” (.34)); Joyce’s grandfather, who claimed the O’Connell connection by marriage, was a prosperous alderman (“Baaboo, the “bourgeoismeister:” “Babbo” was the name given to Joyce by his children and grandson); O’Connell himself was, as Bloom calls him, a “breedy” womanizer whose monument in Glasnevin is the tallest round tower in Ireland and obviously invites comparison to an impressively phallic “stiffstaff,” so much here that its possessor, alive or dead, brags that, when he’s on his back, it could reach up far enough to touch heaven – or, actually (an exaggeration exaggerated), the first heaven and then the second one after that. 191.36: “at the punt of his risen stiffstaff:” compare the Mookse at 155.23-4: “Elevating, to give peint to his blick, is jeweled pederect to the allmysty cielung.” 191.36: “punt:” the “risen stiffstaff” is also a punter’s pole, at the moment being raised from the river bed. Evidently (191.36-192.1) he is about to capsize or fall in, perhaps because it’s so outsized. 192.1-2: “Marcon and the two scissymaidies:” evidently one of several places where Joyce mixes scansion with Morse code. “Marcon:” a macron signals a long or stressed syllable; “Marcon” echoes Marconi, father of wireless telegraphy. On its English side, the first syllable is stressed; on the Italian, it’s the second syllable; put them together, I suggest, and a spondee may plausibly be the result. “Scissymaidies” echoes Issy, twice, and gives us two trochees, like the “tricky trochees” (7.3) with which ALP and the girls try to “wake” the fallen giant of I.1, himself being “wail”ed in a spondaic “rockbound” (7.1). The usual FW pattern is for a seagoing Tristan to signal spondees (one dash for each T in his name; Morse for “T” is one dash) from his “marconimasts” (407.20). Issy sometimes responds with (20.32) a “prytty pyrrhique:” “I” is two dots in Morse and a pyrrhic is a metrical foot of two unstressed syllables, although it’s worth noting that the word “pyrrhic” itself is a trochee – or here, once again, two (tricky) trochees. (Any questions?) 192.2: “scissymaidies:” schismatics, paired with (.1) heretic 192.2: “Ructions:” from “Finnegan’s Wake:” “and a row and a ruction soon began.” 192.3: “Ever hear of that foxy, that lupo and the virgin heir of the Morrisons, eh, blethering ape?:” in the Aesop story, an ape judges a trial between a fox and a wolf; the wolf claims that the fox has stolen from him. The ape rules that, although the wolf hasn’t been robbed, the fox, even if telling the truth this time, is a notorious liar. Moral, similar to that of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf:” liars aren’t believed even when being honest. Shem is presumably meant to be the fox here, although confusingly, to me anyway, he winds up being called an “ape.” (Not for the first time or last: see, for instance, 22.3.) 192.4: “virgin heir:” (?) Anyway, “the Virginaires” would have been an excellent name for a fifties-sixties girl group. 192.5-6: “Your Lowness:” compare 155.13. James I was as addressed as “Your Sowness” by his favorite Buckingham because, like the young Joyce, he didn’t believe in baths. 192.6: “hamilkcars of:” cattlecars of: an updated version of “cartloads of,“ in turn a magnified version of “hatfuls of” (.6) 192.7-8: “the suitcases of coddled ales:” cooled ale. (Well into the late 20th century, British Isles beer and ale were routinely served warm; chilled ale, made possible by American-market refrigeration, could have signified either luxury or if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it newfangledness.) As for “suitcases:” believe it or not, Google and Google Books register one early 20th century hit for “suitcase refrigerator” – basically, a suitcase insulated and made to function as cooler – and several others describing essentially the same idea, minus that exact phrase. Also, perhaps overtone of: "mulled ale" 192.10: “voice drop:” in singing and public speaking, dropping the voice can signal a shift into pathos or extra earnestness. 192.11-2: “pledge a crown of Thorne’s to pawn a coat off Trevi’s:” tradition that visitors should throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain if they wish to return to Rome. Shem can’t afford to. (Unlikely that Joyce did. In any case, he never came back.) 192.11: “pledge a crown of Thorne’s to pawn a coat:” an item pawned for money is called a pledge. (Sequence is off-kilter, but the sense seems to be that he pawned a coat for a crown – five shillings.) 192.12: “you was bad no end:” your sinning was bottomless. 192.14: “pas mal de siècle:” “mal du siècle:” fashionable melancholy at end of 19th century 192.14: “Reynaldo:” given Shem’s Joyce-like pose as a fox, Italian equivalent of Reynard 192.15-6: “your plank and your bonewash:” “plank” can be a one-night bed in a flophouse. “Bonewash” is an industrial term; no obvious application, but the two together may echo “bed and washup.” 192.16: “(O the hastroubles you lost!):” American song: “Nobody knows the troubles I’ve [I] seen [had], / Nobody knows but Jesus.” 192.17: “your pound of platinum:” sounds good, but then a “pound” can be an enclosure for animals or prisoners. 192.17: “a thousand thongs a year:” again, a thousand pounds a year sounds good, but regular lashings adding up to a thousand thongs a year, either from a thousand strokes of one thong or from fewer than that from one many-thonged whip, the cat-o’-nine-tails for instance, does not. 192.19-21: “holinight sleep (fame would come to you twixt a sleep and a wake) and leave to lie till Paraskivee and the cockcock crows:” if he went to sleep on either Saturday or Sunday night, and doesn’t want to be waked until Friday (“Paraskivee:” see McHugh), he’s in for a long sleep indeed. Also, the cock confirming Jesus’ prophecy that Peter would betray him would have crowed on a Friday morning. 192.20: “twixt a sleep and a wake:” hypnagogia is the name for the state between being asleep and being awake. Joyce’ works – including, I think, this one – include numerous examples. See, for instance, Bloom at the end of “Nausicaa.” 192.20-1: “leave to lie:” continues from “let you have” of .15: he wishes to be allowed to stay lying in bed. 192.21-2: “Danmark…Jonathan:” David and Jonathan? 192.23: “Pain the Shamman!:” aside from James the (shamming) Penman, he’s a sham-man (a shammer, plus not a real man’s man (compare 172.35-6)), shamming pain – more in the vein of Shem the malingerer. 192.23-30: “Oft…Marylebone:” Shem, lying on his “smelly” poorhouse bed (see .26 and note), is dreaming of women (“jezabelles” (.25)), “Ruth,” the “beauty from the bible” (.28) clamoring for him. 192.24-5: “clutch of the famished hand:” touch of the famous hand. Maybe refers to the story, recorded by Ellmann, of the man who asked “to kiss the hand that wrote Ulysses.” (Ellmann adds that Joyce, refusing, may have been reminded of King Lear IV.6: “It smells of mortality;” “smelly” has just appeared on the same line.) Also, in keeping with the ongoing dream fantasy, he’s a king, granting his royal touch to cure the king’s evil, scrofula, which, according to medical reports, gives off (“smelly” (.24)) a sour smell. 192.26: “on your sodden straw:” again: he’s really asleep in a flophouse or poorhouse, dreaming of grandeur. Googling “wet straw smell,” most comments agree that it’s distinctly unpleasant. 192.27-8: “the Ruth you called your companionate:” the biblical Ruth is proverbial for her steadfast loyalty: “Wither thou goest, I will go also…” The words could have been written for Nora Barnacle, who, as Joyce’s father joked, would never (did never) leave him. 192.28: “a beauty from the bible:” me, in Galway, summer of 1977, asking an old woman, Bridie Donnelly by name, about her memories of Nora, who had lived next door. Mrs. Donnelly: “She was the prettiest girl in Galway.” And, to that, Mrs. Donnelly’s memory of seeing Nora “standing there, with her long hair shining in the sunlight.” Am absolutely not making that up. 192.29: “Euston:” in Joyce’s time, Euston Station was called “the gateway to Ireland.” 192.29-30: “hanging garments:” laundry out to dry 192.29-30: “Marylebone:” class-wise, a considerable step up from his flophouse dwelling 192.30-193.3: But…Yes?:” coming to dreary consciousness, Shem envisions his fantasy women now asking him, morning after, what (as Mrs. Mooney, in “The Boarding House,” would say) “reparation?” And: c’mon, you’ve already spent all that reparation money on riotous living, haven’t you? 192.31: “who’s whinging we:” who’s kidding whom? 192.31-2: “Comport yourself, you inconsistency!:” stop lying! 192.33-4: “cakeater:” fancyman, playboy. Although the Internet has no examples from Joyce’s time, it fits the context exactly; he going to love her and leave her, without even any alimony. 192.35: “Templetombmount joyntstone:” Mountjoy Prison 192.34-5: “pleasegoodjesusalem:” “-jesusalem” is presumably Jerusalem, renamed after Jesus. 193.4: “Leon of the fold:” given that (see McHugh) we’ve just heard a version of a review of Ulysses, followed by “Yes? Yes? Yes?” (compare 184.2) - probably the fantasizing Leopold (Bloom), who in “Circe,” is recalled as having been “a lion of the night” at a party, “a favourite with the ladies.” 193.3-4: “Holy wax and holifer!:” the New Catholic Encyclopedia has no entry on this, but up to the early 20th century Google Books gives a number of hits for both “holy wax” and “holy candle” – evidently once features of church ceremonies. “Holifer:” holier, thurifer. Together, candles and incense – both, at the time (compare Kernan in “Grace:” “I bar the candles!”) taken as distinguishing Catholic worship from that of some Protestant services. 193.5-6: “take your medicine:” accept your punishment 193.6-7: “repastures:” repeated repasts. That is, take before each meal 193.9: “my ghem of all jokes, to make you go green in the gazer:” again, the progressive stages of glaucoma are designated as green, gray, black. (The “ghem” is presumably an emerald; see 603.9.) Also, Irish expression, quoted in “Cyclops:” “Do you see any green in the white of my eye?” – meaning, do you think I’m that naïve? Also, as McHugh notes, Othello’s “green ey’d monster” of jealous rage at marital infidelity; see next item. 193.10-1: “Do you hear what I’m seeing, hammet?:” According to Stephen’s (and Joyce’s) theory, in Hamlet, Shakespeare, playing the ghost, is telling his son Hamnet about Anne’s (one’s wife, other’s mother) infidelity. Irish expression: “Do you hear what I’m saying?” (Or “-telling you?” etc.) Ghost in Hamlet: “List, list, O, list!” 193.12-3: ”Whisht! Herr Studiosus:” Christiani: a derogatory name given to Ibsen, who did not quite satisfy all the requirements for graduation. “Whisht” perhaps means that he wishes he had. 193.13: “a wig in your ear:” again: tradition that earwigs, entering through the ear, burrow into the brain – here, to cause mental disturbance. See next entry; see second note to .14. Also – probably the main meaning – to put “a flea in the ear” is to tell someone something likely to upset them. 193.13-4: “tell the housetops:” Luke 12:3: “Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops.” 193.14: “whisper drive:” in context, what in American politics is/was called a “whispering campaign:” – spreading false rumors about one’s opponent – as in the rumor mill of .17-.24, going from “I” to “arms.” 193.14: “twitter:” perhaps an earwig sound. (According to 175.27-8, earwigs chirp.) 193.16: “Look well! Bend down:” again, Joyce was far-sighted – better (relatively) at seeing far-off than close-up. 193.16: “Do you see your dial in the rockingglass?:” Can you see your face in the lookingglass? (Sounds like a rhetorical question; for Joyce in these years, with his “[a]stigmy…I”’s (.17), it wasn’t.) 193.16: “rockingglass:” compare 84.29. “Rock glass” can mean obsidian (which is shiny), but in the early 20th century a material with the same name was being touted as a building material with “strength…three times that of granite.” 193.17-24: “I…arms:” resembles, and at times echoes, the childish “telephone” game in play through the approximate second half of I.2. As is typical with FW lists, each item’s connection with its predecessor seems to get more problematic than the one before. 193.17-8: “I had it from Lamppost Shawe:” gossiper’s entre nous: “between you and me and the lamppost.” 193.20: “tipped the wink:” to tip the wink is to wink conspiratorially. In this case, apparently, the signal is being passed from one winker to another. 193.21: “Tinbullet:” although tin bullets were being used in the second half of the 19th century up to about 1920, “bulletin” seems the main sense here. 193.21: “confussed:” confused and confessed; as in I.2 (38.9-39.12), female penitent-to-confessor is a link in the (confusing) chain of gossip. 193.22: “defecate:” execrate 193.23-4: “Flimsy Follettes are simply beside each other. And Kelly, Kenny and Keogh are up up and in arms:” the two girls and three soldiers of FW’s park scene, with possible admixture of Dublin coat of arms: two girls (in some versions holding “Follettes” (leafy branches)), three castles. As elsewhere, the three K’s probably bring in the Ku Klux Klan as well. 193.25-6: “rock anchor through the ages if:” expression: “rocking at anchor” – an anchored vessel, rocking back and forth with the waves; here: may he be becalmed forever if… 193.31: “fault:” OED records that the original meaning of “fault” is lack; see 194.12 and note. 193.32: “a kingship through a fault:” possible allusion to “For want of a nail…the kingdom was lost” proverb 193.32: “Pariah, cannibal Cain, I:” grammatically, the first three words are in apposition with “I:” it is Cain, the firstborn, who is speaking – although, as usual (“of hisself” (.31): himself, his other self) – the identities can coincide contrarily. 193.34: “black mass:” satanic inversion of Catholic mass 194.2: “Cathmon-Carbery:” see McHugh. In Temora, Cathmor dies in a fight with Oscar, Ossian’s son, and Cairbar succeeds him. 194.3: “from the innermost depths:” probably not accidental (see previous item) that Oscar Wilde was the author of De Profundis. 194.4-5: “compline hour of being alone:” that is, in bed 194.6-9: “for (though that royal one has not yet drunk a gouttelette from his consummation and the flowerpot on the pole, the spaniel pack and their quarry, retainers and the public house proprietor have not budged a millimeter:” another reference to the pub’s calendar/almanac picture, with echoes from 30.1-31.35, for instance 31.2-3; see entry for 194.7-8. The main point here is that, as with Keats’ Grecian urn, everything in the picture is frozen in time. Compare 622.31 and note. 194.7: “gouttelette:” a small taste, a drop 194.7: “consummation:” Consummation Cup, drunk at Passover 194.7-8: “the flowerpot on the pole:” 31.2-3: “bearing aloft…a high perch atop of which a flowerpot was fixed earthside hoist.” According to Google Images, that is what an earwig trap looks like – sometimes, in fact, what an earwig trap literally is. 194.12: “firstborn:” Again, see 168.18 and note, 188.28 and note. Before Joyce, his mother had a child, christened John, who died in infancy. McHugh notes that the “vopiscus” of .32 is Latin for “1 of a pair of twins, born alive after premature death of other.” 194.11-2: “lo…la:” Omega-alpha – sometimes associated with the twins/brothers 194.12-20: “it is…me:” again, compare Gabriel Conroy on Michael Furey, immutably apotheosized because dead - the foregone brother, shimmering with celestial light (.15-7) 194.12: “firstfruit:” “First fruits:” first produce of the harvest, ceremonially given to the church 194.14-5: “windblasted tree of the knowledge of beautiful andevil:” compare Stephen in “Oxen of the Sun:” “Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time.” Gifford and Seidman’s gloss finds echoes from St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Dante, and Yeats; the gist is that Christ’s tree/rood/cross redeems the original sin of the tree of knowledge. (McHugh notes that “andevil” should probably be “and evil.”) 194.15-7: “clothed upon with the metuor and shimmering like the horescens, astroglodynamonologos:” compare the beatified Shaun of 475.12-7, for instance his “meteor pulp.” 194.15-6: “clothed upon with the metuor:” Milton’s Satan: “Cloth’d with transcendent brightness,…Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind” – Paradise Lost, Book I, lines 68, 537 194.16: “shimmering like the horescens:” given context, overtone of horoscope and Horus. Also, the “dogstar” Sirius (.14) is shimmering on the horizon, signaling that the Nile (Horus is “Nilfit’s father” (.17: a.k.a. Hapi, the (androgynous) Nile god)) is about to flood. 194.19: “downandoutermost:” “down and out:” an American term for someone impoverished and beaten down by life 194.21: “O me lonly son:” given the Egyptian strain present through (at least) .15-33, I suggest that ALP emerges here as, in part, the voice of the Nile – one reason that the beginning of her upcoming chapter, I.8, will have the shape (compare .23: “deltilla”) of a delta. The Nile is definitely (.22) “turfbrown.” 194.22: “turfbrown mummy:” more Egyptology: also at .32-3. 194.25: “leaves her raid:” leads the race 194.26: “stud stoned before a racecourseful:” another detail from the (.25) “Punchestime” (McHugh: Punchestown Races) race. Also “colt” and “filly” (.29, .30) 194.27: “dry yanks will visit old sod:” because of Prohibition, Americans will come to Ireland to drink. “Dry” works oppositely-doubly here: 1. Deprived of alcohol, and 2. a supporter of Prohibition. (The opponents were called “Wets.”) 194.27-8: “fourtiered skirts are up:” fashion news: hemlines are higher – although apparently still coming in multiple (four-tiered) layers, perhaps of petticoats 194.31: “rocks drops:” apart from the pebbles rattling in her wake, diamonds, popularly, as jewelry, called rocks; “drops” can be jewels in earrings, necklaces, etc. 194.31-2: "tramtokens in her hair:" Joyce's Notebook VI.B.035: "a bouquet beautiful / as a bundle of tram- / tickets." Based on this - and "may the tussocks grow quickly under your trampthickets" (428.26) - flowers in her hair 194.32: “rill ringlets shaking:” “Rings on her fingers…she shall have music wherever she goes.” Joyce did a Wakean poem based on this. 194.34-5: “rapidshooting:” shooting the rapids 194.32: “waived:” her hair has been waved. (Compare 204.23.) 195.4: “grannyma:” Grania, of Dermot and Grania story 195.1: “as happy as the day is wet:” expression: as happy as the day is long. Also, an Irish day is, typically enough, often a wet one. 195.3-4: "giddygaddy:" from Digger Dialects: "giddy gout" - from the children's nursery rhyme "Giddy giddy gout, your shirt's hanging out." 195.6: “Quoiquoiquoiqoiquoiqoiquoiq!:” as in Ulysses: Tell me the word, mother! Here, the mother will duly show up on the next page. 196.9: “And don’t butt me – hike! – when you bend:” compare “bend” at 205.6 and 206.23 (“Take my stroke and bend to your bow”) where the context is of one rower to another, in the same boat. Rowers bend to their oars, and if one is behind the other, as in a racing shell, butting the one in front, even in the butt, is a possibility. At times, as rowers, the women are in, not beside,the river. Also see 201.26, 23, 24, and 202.22-3 with notes.
196.10: “threed:” three old women with a thread may recall the Fates, especially since the subject is someone who recently “went futt” (.6). At 287, LM 1 they will be remembered as “Wolsherwomens at their weirdst,” and as McHugh notes, wyrd is Old English for fate. 196.11: “reppe:” according to Lawrence Rainey, a man of bad character, a “rip” 196.14: “wik:” echo of Earwicker; in Yorkshire dialect “wick” means alive. 196.15: “Scorching my hand:” presumably because the evidence of his sins is so deep-dyed that it takes extra-hot water to get it out. Also, here and elsewhere, one of ALP's offices has been to exculpate her husband, and one way of doing that - here, on his ("proxenete"/proxy) behalf - is to undergo a trial by fire, by grasping a red-hot rod. Protocols varied, but essentially, if it scorched the flesh of your palm, you - in this case he - were guilty. In the Joseph Bédier Tristan and Iseult (a Joyce source), Iseult passes such a test, supposedly proving - by trickery - that she has not been Tristan's lover. 196.16-7: “starving my famine to make his private linen public:” a class-warfare grievance. “Famine” echoes family. Spotless linen was an indispensable hallmark for a patrician male. Making it spotless requires hard labor, for which she’s not getting paid enough, not even enough to feed her family. Remembering the Famine – Irish peasants starving at the behest of London bigwigs – adds an edge. 196.17: “to make his private linen public:” phrase: to wash dirty linen in public (both dirty (“duddurty”) and soil as verb, along with French salir (“saale”) appeared in the previous line) – to publicize private indecencies or embarrassments. Here, the sense is that it takes a lot of washing before his private linen is fit to be shown to the public. 196.19: “And the dneepers of wet and the gangres of sin in it!:” although this chapter is famously compounded out of hundreds of river names, some of them occasionally stand out from the field. The Ganges is India’s sacred river of purification, for washing away sins – the right river for the conversation at hand. Pilgrims wade knee-deep – “dneepers” - in its “wet.” 196.20-1: “And how long was he under loch and neagh:” see McHugh, and compare 23.29 ff: he has been driven underwater, to the submerged city at the bottom of Lough Neagh; eventually (as prophesied at 74.1-18) he will re-emerge. 196.21: “newses:” nooses 196.21: “The King fierceas Humphrey:” aside from the standard “The Crown versus X,” another recollection of the beginning of I.2. 196.21-2: “illysus distilling:” illicit distilling. Compare 85.25-6, where another “King,” Festy, comes from the “foulfamed potheen district;” poteen is Irish moonshine. Rainey suggests an overtone of Ulysses. 196.22: “But toms will tell:” a number of English church bells are named “Great Tom;” the best-known is at Christ Church, Oxford. “Tell:” toll 196.22: “I know he well:” I know him well; I know he will. 196.24: “O, the roughty old rappe!:” compare Frank Budgen’s song, “The Roughty [rowdy] Tinker.” 196.25: “Minxing:” a “minx:” a flirtatious, scheming woman. Just the sort to ("Minxing marrage") mar a marriage. 196.25: “loof:” given all the rub-a-dub-dubbing, I think this includes “loofah.” 197.1: “Reeve Gootch was right and Reeve Drughad was sinistrous:” given that he’s on trial, the Old English definition of “reeve” – local magistrate – is pertinent. (.6-7 will list his court officers: two lictors, one Garda officer, one “Boy with the Billyclub.”) Also, of course, a classic FW coincidence of contraries: Paris's left bank is right, its right bank is left. 197.1: “Gootch…Drughad:” hootch (bootlegger liquor) and drugs. Goes with illicit distilling, earlier. Maybe: one “he” got hootch, the other “he” had drugs. According to the preceding chapter, Shem was a "drug and drunkery addict" (179.19-20). 197.4-6: “derry’s own drawl and his corksown blather and his doubling stutter and his gullaway swank:” with the exception of “corksown [in Munster, home of the Blarney Stone] blather,” this matching up of provinces with dialects has no apparent resemblance either to popular stereotype or to the rest of FW; in fact “derry,” the north, has, at least in Joyce's renderings, the least drawly of speech sounds. 197.4-5: “derry’s own:” “derry down” – folksong refrain 197.8-9: “Or where was he born or how was he found?:” possibility that, like the Nile-borne Moses, he was a foundling. Compare 198.7-8: “Don’t you know he was kaldt a bairn of the brine, Wasserbourne the waterbaby?” 197.10: “New Hunshire, Concord:” like Massachusetts, New Hampshire has a town named Concord. 197.11: “saft:” Scots for soft, pleasant 197.12: “banns never loosened:” given the context, I think this refers to the Greek marriage custom according to which brides wore their wedding outfit tied with cords – (“banns”) bands – to be untied by their new husband on the wedding night; in Roman ceremony it was the knot on the cingulum. Compare “Untie the gemman’s fistiknots” (202.20) and McHugh note, also next entry. 197.13: “ether duck:” eider duck, source of pillow stuffings of the sort likely to turn up on the marriage bed, hence tame domesticity (paired with the opposite “wild gaze” (.14) wild geese, especially Ireland’s band of militant exiles) – but (see McHugh) also Ibsen’s The Wild Duck 197.13: “duck:” “ducky” is or was a Cockney term of affection. Compare 200.8. 197.14: “wildgaze…gander:“ wild goose, gander. (Maybe obvious.) To “take a gander” is to have a look. The wild gaze goes with later testimony about the suitor’s “sheeny stare to perce me rawly” (626.25), and with biographical testimony to the effect that Joyce had a way of staring intensely at his interlocutors. (So did his daughter, when I visited her.) 197.14-5: “Flowey and Mount on the brink of time makes wishes and fears for a happy isthmus:” Christmas, especially if extended for the traditional twelve days, occurs at the “brink of time” – New Year’s Day – with its wishes and fears for the coming year. “Flowey and Mount,” river and mountain, are FW’s landscape incarnations of female and male. Also, it was on Howth – situated at the end of the Sutton “isthmus” – that Bloom called Molly a “flower of the mountain.” 197.15-6: “She can show all her lines, license to play:” "her lines:" an expression sometimes applied to the outline of any desired object, esthetically considered – woman, ship, horse, automobile. With marriage, the woman has a license to show her “lines” to her husband. Perhaps also: she knows all her character’s lines for the “show,” for the “play” (.15, .16). 197.17: “passmore:” Coventry Patmore, author of “The Angel in the House;” in Victorian times, a name synonymous with marital bliss. 197.17: “hook and eye:” a fastening for garments 197.18: “Dom Dombdomb and his wee follyo:” small filly, who will follow him. My bet is that “Don Dom Dombdomb” refers to Dickens’ Mr. Dombey, who tyrannizes - dominates over - his wife. (Unsuccessfully, as it turns out, but he is also very hard on his daughter.) 197.20: “doll:” American slang for desirable young woman; applicable to 210.23-4, noted below 197.20: “delvin:” delving 197.23-4: “(If a flic had been there to pop up and pepper him!):” if only a policeman had been around to stop him from abducting her! “Pepper:” shoot, fill full of holes 197.24-5: “Maisons Allfou:” in this list of Dublin hospitals and places of detention, perhaps the Richmond Lunatic Asylum, for all the fou, French for crazy – the “Dottyville” mentioned in “Telemachus.” 197.25: “immurables:” prisoners, or those who ought to be prisoners 197.27: “grasshoop:” i.e. she didn’t have a wedding ring, not even of the commonest available material. “Grass skirt,” of the kind proverbially worn by Polynesian and Hawaiian maidens, is probably in the background. 197.28: “boat of life:” lifeboat 197.29: “loom:” back-formation from “looming” 197.30: “landfall:” Liam Fail: compare 25.31 197.31-2: “By the smell of her kelp they made the pigeonhouse:” “kelp” = seaweed, giving off low-tide smell. “Kelp” also (OED, definition 2) = “scabbard,” i.e., vagina. (Compare “gabbard,” 197.28.) Behind this may be the idea, current in Joyce’s time, that sperm smell their way to the ovum. In "Proteus," Stephen recalls an irreverent version of the Incarnation - the Virgin Mary impregnated by a pigeon. Her womb was the pigeonhouse. Compare next entry. 197.32: “pigeonhouse:” besides being Dublin’s power station, the destination of a homing pigeon 197.32: “Himself:” Irishism, always or almost always ironic, for the main man present: e.g. “Himself is having a brood.” 197.34-5: “with his runagate bowmpriss he roade and borst her bar:” as in Tennyson’s “Crossing the Bar:” a sand bar, taken as marking the border between ocean and port. For Tennyson, the barrier between life and death. Here - see McHugh's notes - "bowmpriss" combines a ship's bowsprit, projecting outward from its bow, and "bow" as slang for penis: a transgressive (renegade) lover, he has brazenly broken through all defenses, broken down her resistance, and broken the knot of her maidenhead. Given overall rowdiness, "borst" may signal "borstal." Compare 198.5-6 with note. 198.4: “bulls they were ruhring:” bull-roarer: noise-maker used in Druid ceremonies 198.5-6: “He erned his lille Bunbath hard, our staly bred, the trader:” “Bunbath:” Bath bun – a kind of brioche made in Bath, hence a token of (soft) luxury, here counterpointed with the stale-bread (male) breeder, erectile-y hard by comparison, who has “erned” (ME variant of “ear,” to plow, in Shakespeare’s Sonnet Number 3 means to fuck) and, as “trader,” tread (also ME for fuck, compare 383.12) her, his dainty prize and conquest. (Ship’s-rations bread was famously hard, as confirmed by sailor Murphy in “Eumaeus:” “The biscuits was as hard as brass.”) 198.12: “tickle the pontiff aisy-oisy:” Joyce, in one of his erotic letters to Nora, reminds her of when she masturbated him with her “tickling fingers.” 198.12: “aisy-oisy:” Alpha-Omega 198.14-5: “how loft she was lift a laddery dextro:” how long she was left a latter-day extra: that is, as the other woman, the “absantee” (.16) 198.17: “proxenete:” can mean a procuress, which fits the context, but also at least an overtone of “proximate,” second-in-order or second-in-line or second-best, which also fits. See .21 and note. 198.18: “reussischer:” compare Lenehan’s “recherché” in “Two Gallants:” “proxenete” is a show-offy word. 198.20: “antiabecedarian:” defiantly illiterate, both primitively (ante) pre-alphabet and infantilely anti-alphabet 198.21: “telekinesis:” to “proxenete” (.22) someone else, take their place, would require the telekinetic power to move into and take over where their body is or was. 198.22: “for coxyt sake:” Latin coccyx: the lowest vertebra, in the area most susceptible to back pain. At least one of the women (213.17) is a sufferer. 198.24: “with a meusic before her:” that is, she’s reading from the music score, placed before her. 198.25: “reedy:” high-pitched tone of the kind produced by reed instruments. In “Lotus Eaters,” it disparagingly describes a female soprano’s voice. Also, river reeds 198.26: “without a band on:” i.e.no wedding ring – compare 197.27. Also, musically, without abandon (opposite of con abbandono) – not surprisingly, since she’s playing a dirge. 198.28-199.10: “Well…years:” everything within these lines amounts to this: he was getting old, feeling old, and wondering whether his life had amounted to anything. 198.31: “bales allbrant on the crests of rockies:” OED entries for “bale” include “a signal- or beacon-fire” – for instance of the sort at the beginning of Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, announcing the fall of Troy and imminent return of the king. For obvious reasons such fires were situated on high ground; Joyce may have chosen the Rocky Mountains out of associations with the smoke signals of American Indians. These beacon fires are all burned out because his resources, including (same line) the “lamp” in his kitchen, are, like him, wasting away. Also, compare the “Baalfire’s” of 13.36, with McHugh note. 198.32: “giant’s holes in Grafton’s causeway:” Grafton Street is a fashionable, upmarket shopping area. Giant potholes there would be an especially alarming sign of municipal decline. 198.32-3: “deathcap mushrooms round Funglus grave:” Glasnevin Cemetery is in the Finglas district. In his “Hades” trip there, Bloom speculates that buried corpses make for good fertilizer. Also - compare previous entry - allowing toadstools to grow around a gravesite, especially Finn's, "a great tribune's" (.33), would be another sign of decline-and-fall. In Ulysses, by contrast, Bloom regularly pays a gardener to tend to his father's gravesite. 198.33: “great tribune’s:” compare 52.20-1. 198.35: “usking queasy quizzers of his ruful continence:” looking at himself in the mirror, asking himself troubling questions about his past life 198.35: “ruful continence:” a state of involuntary, unhappy celibacy. Also, red (rufous) face (countenance), probably from drinking too much 198.36-199.1: “he’d check their debths in that mormon’s thames:” reading the obituaries, probably noting which of the defunct - the deaths - was older or younger than he is, and by how much: a habit of old age. (More cheerily, he’s also noting the (“berths” (.2), births.) May be pertinent that, institutionally, Mormons, who believe in postmortem conversion, exhaustively research and archive ancestral data. Also, getting a depth reading on the Thames every morning – presumably standard practice for the London shipping business; some of the following line-and-a-half (“deepend…berths in their toiling moil”) seems to fit. 199.1: “questing and handsetl:” Hansel and Gretel 199.2-4: “his swallower open from swolf to fore and the snipes of the gutter pecking his crocs:” compare 273.21-2 and note. A textbook example of symbiosis: sunning crocodile opens its jaws so that birds can pick out the meat from the cracks between its teeth (Rainey notes that “crocs” is French slang for teeth) – food for them, dental hygiene for it. Also, aside from being a literal snipe, a guttersnipe, as per OED: “A gatherer of refuse, such as rags and paper, from street gutters.” Compare 134.17: “the drain rats bless his offals.” 199.3: “open swolf to fore:” open twelve to four. Maybe accidental, but at 3:48 the minute hand and hour hand make for a straight line across the clock face. 199.5-6: “with his dander up, and his fringe combed over his eygs:” dander is dandruff; the fringe is the edge of his hair, combed over his eyes to impede his sight, that being of his own face in the mirror. Apparent echo of French eggs – a kind of scrambled eggs; see 184.26-32 – would seem to belie the testimony (.4) about his hunger strike. 199.6-7: “droming on loft till the sight of the sternes, after zwarthy kowse and weedy broeks and the tits of buddy:” dreaming of the stars, hence the Milky Way, hence cows, hence their milk-producing teats. Gaelic has so many words for cattle that it would be difficult not to find a match here; still, be it noted that a “duddy” is a polled cow. 199.9-10: “he durmed adranse in durance vaal:” despite (or because of) being in prison, he goes into a trance-like state; it may be that the following evocation of a your-wish-is-my-command wife-mistress is, simply, the product of that trance. (Compare p. 75 - the opening of I.3 – where the confined HCE dreams of similarly compliant women/woman.) 199.13: “damazon:” damson 199.14: “neuphraties:” new potatoes: something of a delicacy 199.14: “dubber:” dub: to name, or, here, rename, as in marriage: he (re)named her 199.15: “his maggias:” his majesty: could usually be sarcastic, but apparently not here. Compare the opening of “Penelope:” “Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs, since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness.” See next entry. 199.15: “blooms:” given that the next 10-15 lines are about her serving him breakfast in bed, I’d say this is a cue to recall the Bloom ménage forecast in “Penelope.” 199.19: “mokau an sable:” black coffee 199.19: “ale of ferns:” “Fern may also have been used to brew ale in ancient Ireland.” – Niall Mac Coiter, Ireland’s Wild Plants – Myth, Legend, & Folklore 199.19: “trueart pewter:” Stuart pewter, presumably collectable. Unlikely to be in the actual FW household; again, I suggest that this is all part of a fantasy – in which light, the “sieve” “plateau” (.23, .26) may be an even more unlikely Sèvres platter. 199.20-1: “hog stay his stomicker:” God save his stomach/stomacher (from bursting, due to all the food being taken in). 199.21: “pyrraknees shrunk to nutmeg graters:” compare “There are no more Pyrenees,” cited at 330.9. Overall sense is mountains shrunk to molehills. Nutmeg graters, whatever else they are, are small. If "graters" sounds an overtones of "craters," the equal-opposite is also from convexity to concavity. 199.21: “graters:” garters, at or above the (“pyrraknees”) knees 199.28—9: “La Calumnia è un Vermicelli:” see note to 42.1-47.29. 199.29: “a balfy bit ov old Jo Robidson:” doesn’t, to my ears, sound like something Balfe might have composed, but Mendelssohn scored his popular “Hear My Prayer” at the request of Dublin’s Joseph Robinson, referred to as “old Joe Robinson” in journal accounts. 199.32: “not a mag out of Hum:” “mag:” half-penny. Gist: great as it was, her performance got nothing from him. 199.33-4: “riding the ricka:” ALP switches roles, from servant to “aroostokrat” (.34). Riding in a rickshaw: a picture of a colonial overlord - or, here, overlady - complete with (“Spark’s pirrypirryphlickathims funkling her fan” 199.35-6)), her hair sprinkled with jewels, showing off to and outshining the rival “prom beauties” in a ridiculously costly gown. 199.34: “Annona, gebroren:” "Arrah Geborah:" – stage-Irish expression 199.35: “Sparks’:” in 18th century parlance, a spark is a stylish young male chasing after stylish young females. ALP, in this incarnation, has her admirers. 199.36: “anner frostivying tresses dasht with virevlies:” according to literary convention, “frosted hair” almost always means hair gone white with age. Her hair, by contrast, is ("frostivying") frost-defying – keeping its original color. The fireflies here may help to hold the cold at bay. (Equal-oppositely, their fires could be accelerating the frostivying process, turning her hair ash white.) Compare ALP’s “auburnt streams” (139.23), a tribute to Nora’s auburn (but also, in time foretold, burnt to ash-white) hair. 200.1: “prom beauties:” in Joyce’s time, “proms” were attended by the upper classes, all dressed up. 200.1: “sreeked nith their bearers’ skins:” bearers, like the rickshaw driver (see 199.34 and note), are men carrying a fashionable lady, for instance by litter or sedan. The ladies in question are shrieking and shrinking from sight because so outclassed by ALP’s getup. 200.2-3: “a period gown of changeable jade would robe the wood of two cardinals’ chairs:” the green (“jade”) could, if subtracted (robbed) from the woods, amount to the leafy equivalent of two trees – chairs for cardinals (birds); if added (robed) it would come to the same amount. (Cardinals, avian and prelatical, are red: FW motif of red-green afterimage reversal.) Cardinals and (.3-4: see McHugh) archbishops Cullen and MacCabe here also signify sartorial flashiness and, in general, sumptuary excess: in Portrait, chapter one, Cullen is singled out for animus as an overfed “prince of the church;” for his part MacCabe repeatedly sided with landlords against tenants; at 32.36-33.2 the two are paired - sarcastically - as being even “more eminent” than the viceregal HCE. See next entry. Also, a "changeable jade" is a woman who has developed a reputation for manipulative inconstancy. 200.3: “and crush poor Cullen and smother MacCabe:” in the sense that it would outshine their fancy cardinal vestments 200.4: “poor patches:” following from above: how poor the patches of their outfits seem, compared to that gorgeous green gown 200.4-5: “brahming to him down the feedchute:” Compare “Cyclops: “and when they were in the (dark horse) pisser Burke was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick…flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube she's better or she's(ow!) all a plan so he could vamoose with the pool if he won…“ Probably not accidental that this refers to the same period when Bloom was being “his highness,” sick in bed: see two notes to 199.15. 200.5-6: “her femtyfyx kinds of fondling endings:” McHugh: Norwegian for 56 – HCE’s age, most probably; here also ALP’s 56 different pet names for her husband, one for each year 200.6: “poother rambling off her nose:” powder running off her nose, as in “powder her nose.” ALP is sometimes a dark-skinned woman trying to pass for white: see, e.g. 210.31-2. (Nora’s middle name was Joseph, and Napoleon’s Josephine was a Creole. Although not in A Royal Divorce, the racial difference between Josephine and the Austrian Maria Louisa sometimes figures in FW’s treatment of their antagonism.) 200.6-7: Vuggybarney, Wickerymandy! Hello, ducky, please don’t die!:” McHugh: “vuggerbarn:” Danish for child in the cradle. “Wickerymandy:" Wicker Man, in which Druidical human sacrifices were burned alive. A reminder that lullabies (e.g. “If the bow breaks, the cradle will fall”) can be pretty terrifying. 200.7: “ducky:” again, a Cockney term of endearment 200.11-2: “And letting on hoon var daft about the warbly sangs from over holmen:” compare 627.21-2: “and me letting on to meself always.” Here, she’s pretending to be crazy about the old-time old-home songs he used to warble. Old-home: since the example is in Danish, this presumably refers to his Scandinavian ancestry. 200.14-5: “sandy cloak:” Sunday clothes 200.15: “deaf as a yawn:” yawning can make one briefly deaf. Anticipates the tone-deaf Juan/Yawn of III.1-3. 200.15: “Go away!:” like “Get out!” – Give me a break; I can’t believe you just said that! 200.17: “And didn’t she up in sorgues:” whether brogues or (McHugh) socks, ALP has undergone another transformation, to older and homey/homely. See next item. 200.18: “puffing her old dudheen:” promoting, advertising (see also 210.14) her old man/dad. Also, a woman in brogues, “trot”ting (.17) down to stand in the door and puff on a pipe, is pretty much the opposite of glamorous. 200.19-20: “Sawy, Fundally, Daery or Maery, Milucre, Awny or Graw:” Sally, ? (possibly, not probably, Emily), Daisy or Mary, Millicent, Anny or Grace. 200.21-2: “slip inside by the sullyport…sillypost:” by door or (window) sill 200.24-6: “to show them how to shake their benders and the dainty how to bring to mind the gladdest garments out of sight:” a woman of experience, she will teach even the most delicate-minded of maidens to think of, if not mention, unmentionables. “Gladdest garments” plays off of “glad rags.” Also, echoes the expression “Out of sight, out of mind,” with probable innuendo that they will eventually be induced not just to acknowledge but even to display their undies - it's the men, as well as themselves, who will have such things brought to mind by their provocative displays. 200.28: “silliver shiner:” silver coin, probably either sovereign or guinea. "Shiners" in this sense is in "Oxen of the Sun." 200.29: “Throwing all the neiss little whores:” gneiss is a form of metamorphic rock. The I.2-I.3 assault on HCE was, at least in part, a matter of (brookpebbles pangpung” (72.33)) rocks being thrown at his window and breaking the glass. ALP’s train includes “pattering pebbles” (207.6). 200.30-1: “of no matter what sex of pleissful ways:” no matter what sort/sects of blissful/blessed ways: i.e. no matter what denomination – but also, and quite shockingly, hubby was game for boys as well as girls: the sex didn’t matter, so long as they pleased him, blissfully. Also, see next item. 200.31: “two adda tammar:” two at a time, i.e. for a threesome. The “Tamar” allusion, I think, makes this sex-scene reading more credible: McHugh notes that in Genesis, Tamar is falsely accused of prostitution. 200.31-2: “to hug and hab haven:” overtone of “to have and to hold,” of wedding ceremony 200.33: “wyerye rima:” “weary” pretty well describes the poem to follow – too weary to be a poem, actually, let alone rhyme. 200.33: “rima:” Bog Latin for animal trap 200.34: “lathering hail:” spanking: beating the hell out of his pants seat, imagining that she's doing it to him while he's wearing them. 200.35-6: “dying…iodine:” iodine dye: used in dying fabrics, makes bright blue color. 200.36-201.2: “Anna Livia’s cushingloo, that was writ by one and rede by two and trouved by a poule in the parco:” “Cushingloo:” the lingo/language of Cush (also Kush), early or pre-Egyptian kingdom supposed to be named for a descendant of Ham. In 1909 a specimen of its cuneiform-based written language was discovered by an archaeological dig sponsored by the Egyptian Exploration Society, founded and funded by Amelia Edwards and (“poule”) Reginald Stuart Poole, thus making it possible to “rede” it. “Rede:” both reading, and writing with a (reed) pen. “Poule,” of course, recalls Biddy the hen of I.5, digging up the FW letter, simultaneously reading it and, by way of her hen-peck scratchings, writing it. 201.1: “poule:” given French “trouved” (.1), this may signal poilu, French soldier. 201.3-4: “Tarn your ore ouse:” Turn your ear outward [to hear better] Also, rowers turn their oars to a horizontal slant between each stroke; see 196.9 and note, 205.6 and note. 201.4: “Essonne inne:” listen in! 201.5: “By earth and the cloudy:" by heaven and earth 201.5: “I badly want a brandnew bankside:” perhaps a memory of Joyce’s wearing out the seat of his (backside) suit pants while working as a bank clerk in Rome 201.8: “my life in death companion:” we’ve just (200.31-2) gotten an echo of “to have and hold:” this comes from “till death do us part.” 201.9: “my much altered camel’s hump:” perhaps an allusion to Kipling’s “How the Camel Got his Hump.” The camel’s original sin was laziness. It gets its hump because it said “Humph” to work; HCE’s first name is Humphrey. 201.9: “my frugal key of our larder:” in Ulysses, compare phallically keyless Bloom, and Molly, in “Penelope,” with her rump’s “2 lumps of lard.” Given ALP’s wish that HCE would “bore me down like he used to” (.11-2), this sounds like a complaint about his sexual stinginess. 201.10: “maymoon’s honey:” the song referred to here, “The Young May Moon” (McHugh), was the one sung by Boylan and Molly when they reached their agreement to become lovers. They were strolling (with Bloom) along the Tolka, which appears at .18. (To get technical, June, not May, is the traditional month of the honey moon.) 201.11: “to wake himself out of his winter’s doze and bore me down like he used to:” compare 628.8-10: “Carry me along, taddy, like you done through the toy fair! If I seen him bearing down on me now under whitespread wings like he’d come from Arkangels.” The weather coming from Archangel (variously spelled) would be wintry; here, it’s manifest in a (cold) tidal bore blowing upward through the Liffey. (For “bearing,” see next entry.) Before the Russians, Archangel was a Viking outpost. 201.11: “winter’s doze:” The days spent by a bear during hibernation. (“Honey” and “bore” (.10, .11), past tense of “bear,” incline me to the belief that the sleepy male in question here is, mainly, a bear, waking up in March, as bears do. Joyce was born on Groundhog Day, which has equivalents in some European cultures.) See previous entry. Compare “mahun of the horse” (.24) – “mahun” is an anglicization of the Gaelic for “bear.” 201.15: “his worshipful socks:” she’s the one doing the bishop’s laundry. Also, at least in my feminist/post-feminist times, being expected to pick up and wash hubby’s socks has long been at the top of the list of female complaints about marital arrangements. 201.18-9: “Id lep and off with me to the slobs della Tolka or the plage au Clontarf:” Dublin citizens retreated to Clontarf to escape the plague of 1575. 201.19: “the gay aire of my salt troublin bay:” the gay airs of my bold [Celt] Dublin boy. 201.19: “the race of the saywint:” the Solent, the stretch of water between England and the Isle of Wight, is the site of the annual Cowes regatta. It is known for its strong winds and tides. 201.21-2: “I want to know every single ingul:” OED’s first citation for “knowing all the angles” in the sense of completely understanding a situation is 1921. 201.23-4: “that homa fever’s winning me wome:” That man (homme) is prevailing over my womanly womb-like self. Compare 261.4: “And the whirr of the wins humming us howe.” Also, homesickness, calling me home 201.24: “If a mahun of the horse but hard me:” given context, very likely a sexual innuendo. Also, a man on a horse is a signature of authority, like “the man of the house.” 201.27: “in tool:” in total 201.28-9: “three figures to fill and confined herself to a hundred eleven:” i.e. given the choice of a “three-figure” number, one involving the same figure three times, she modestly (and mercifully) chose “111” rather than, for instance, “999.” 201.32-3: “smacked…slipper…cane:” three forms, including being spanked with a slipper, of parental corporal punishment 201.33-4: “the cane for Kund and abbles Eyolf and ayther nayther for Yakov Yea:” Issy’s presence is repeatedly signaled by doubled I’s/Y’s. This sequence gives us all three children - Shem as Cain, Shaun Abel, Issy. By the doctrine of Original Sin, Cain's murder of Abel resulted from the first sin, with ("abbles") the apple. 201.33: “boxing bishop’s:” 1. The boxing bishop: legendary 18th century Irish prelate, usually identified with Dr. Robert Fowler, archbishop of Dublin. 2. Joyce's Notebook VI.B.16.118 contains an excerpt from a magazine's account of "the 'last' bishop of Kildare" (not named) who "once got into personal collision with a drayman...a caricature was published of him as 'the boxing bishop.'" 201.33: “infallible slipper:” compare 492.26-7: “unfillable slopper.” 201.34: “Yakov Yea:” Jacob J: James Joyce 201.34: “A hundred and how?:” truncated question: A hundred and how many? 201.35: “O loreley:” O Lordy! 202.3: “nap” card game named for Napoleon. (How the mighty have fallen.) 202.5: “shoal” in sense of mass of fish; also Bloom’s “Nausicaa” thoughts of women “in shoals.” 202.5: “flewmen:” flymen/flywomen – “women” minus the “o.” See next entry 202.6: “owen:” Bessie Owen, early 20th century aviatrix; see entry above. Also, this time, "women" without the "w." 202.8: “neckar:” “necking:” American slang for kissing and other amorous play 202.10: “Linking one and knocking the next:” a flirt linking arms with one fellow (for dance or promenade) while rejecting the other. 202.12: “clyding:” gliding 202.12: “on her eastway:” the Liffey flows east. 202.13: “thurever:” thurifer: acolyte who carries thurible; compare 628.5. 202.14: “Tinker, tilar, souldrer, salor:” from traditional folk ballad, “The Old Maid’s Song:” “Come a landsman, a pinsman, a tinker or a tailor / A doctor, a lawyer, a soldier or a sailor / A rich man, a poor man, a fool, or a witty / Come any man at all who will take me out of pity.” 202.14: “Pieman Peace:” P.P.: Parish Priest 202.15-6 “Push up and push Vardar and come to uphill headquarters:” at times the two old women seem to be rowing upstream (although “push”ing, not pulling) - hence, here, uphill. (For one thing, the story they’re tracking down takes place upstream in the Wicklow Hills, site of ALP’s infancy and girlhood.) Capitalization of “Vardar” suggests the Vartry River, inland but not part of the Liffey river system. (But then, neither is Clondalkin (201.25) or Devil’s Glen (205.15.)) “Headwaters” is a common term for a river’s place of origin. 202.16-7: “come to uphill headquarters! Was it waterlows year, after Grattan or Flood:” Waterloo Year was 1815. On May 25, 1815, twenty-two days before the Battle of Waterloo, Henry Grattan made a notable speech in Parliament which broke with his party, the Whigs, in supporting aggressive military action against Napoleon. (Henry Flood, his ally, had died in 1891.) At the time, Essex Bridge, renamed Grattan Bridge in 1874, was the westernmost of Dublin’s bridges – hence, perhaps, “uphill.” Wikipedia reports that it had at one point been “damaged by flood.” 202.17: “waterlows year, after Grattan or Flood:” Waterloo Year was 1815. In that year Henry Flood was already dead, and Henry Grattan, in repudiating Napoleon, disengaged from the Whigs. 202.19-20: “Worry you sighin foh:” what are you sighing for? 202.21: “Nuancee!:” No answer - response to “O Anser?” (.20). Also, according to Brendan O Hehir, ní ha-annsa, meaning not hard - a Gaelic formula for answering riddles. 202.21: “can’t put her hand on him:” i.e. can’t put her finger on - can’t exactly recall. Also, compare 198.12 and note. 202.22: “Tez:” ‘Tis. Common Irish expression. Compare “Tisn’t” (.35). 202.22-3: “Such a loon waybashwards to row!” aside from the fact that we are going back in time to ALP’s youth, rowers row backward. 202.28: “sauntering:” Joyce to Nora: “Nora! Nora! I am speaking now to the girl I loved, who had red-brown hair and sauntered over to me and took me so easily into her arms and made me a man.” 202.29: “lieabroad:” lie-abed – sluggard 202.29: “Curraghman:” “curragh:” a small round boat made of wickerwork covered with a watertight material 202.32-3: “She thought she’s sankh neathe the ground:” according to guidebooks, underground springs are a feature of the region of the Liffey’s origin. 202.33-4: “gave her the tigris eye:” gave her the eye – made eye contact in a flirtatious way. A “tiger’s eye” is a semi-precious variety of the cat’s-eye stone. 202.35: “anacheronistic:” anacreonic: describes poetry like Anacreon’s, tributes to love and wine. 203.2: “Kilbride:” Joyce’s notes to “Exiles” record Nora’s calling him “woman killer.” (She may have meant “lady-killer.”) 203.3-4: “grainwaster:” turn-of-the-century term of derision for an inferior, inefficient threshing machine; note .5: “to spin and to grind, to swab and to thrash,” and .6: “barleyfields.” 203.7-8: “to lie with a landleaper, wellingtonorseher:” coinciding contraries: landlubber (contrasting with 202.24, the “wolf of the sea”), but (see McHugh) “Land Leapers” were those accomplished sea-voyagers, the Vikings. Also, not for the first or last time, “wellingtonorseher” recalls Wellington’s crack that being born in Ireland didn’t make him Irish any more than being born in a stable would have made him a horse. Also, reference to the Land League, Irish organization opposing depredations of British landlords. The inference is that if ALP would “lie with” all these drastically different sorts, she would lie with just about anyone. 203.10: “not where the Nore takes lieve of the Bloem:” see 199.15 and note. Nora, Bloom. Overtone of German liebe, love. An FW equal-opposite: she both loves him and leaves him. 203.11-2: “Moy changez her minds twixt Cullin and Conn tween Cunn and Collin:” Moi chanzez, if ungrammatically, suggests a French sequence, and con and col are French argot for vagina and anus. 203.13: “sculled and…road:” sculling and rowing – two ways of traveling by water. See next item. 203.13-4: “bumped:” Wikipedia: “A bumps race is a form of rowing race in which a number of boats chase each other in single line, each crew attempting to catch and ‘bump’ the boat in front without being caught by the boat behind.” 203.18-9: “riverend:” compare “riverrun” (3.1). ALP’s sexual initiation begins with the former; FW with the latter. 203.19: “aspersed:” compare aspergil or aspergillum – in the Catholic and Anglican communions, the implement used for sprinkling holy water, at baptisms and other occasions. 203.21-2: “the sycomores:” will later emerge as the four old men, spying on the lovers 203.23: “newly anointed:” that is, he’s just now become a priest – been anointed; makes it all the more awkward that he’s about to lose his virginity. 203.24-6: “saffron strumans of hair…that was deepdark and ample like this red bog at sundown:” some varieties of saffron are red or red-orange in color. Again, FW sometimes pays tribute to the “auburnt streams” (139.23-4) of Nora’s hair. 203.25-9: “deepdark and ample like this red bot at sundown. By that Vale Vowclose's lucydlac, the reignbeau's heavenarches arronged orranged her. Afrothdizzying galbs, her enamelled eyes indergoading him on to the vierge violetian:” both sunsets and rainbows get their colors from the refraction of light. 203.27: “reignbeau’s: reigning beau 203.27: “arronged:” wronged 203.30-1: “laurels now on her daphdaph teasesong petrock:” “on” Petrarch because a garland of laurel was a sign of distinction, for poets and others. Also, two T’s, as in “TrisTan,” are dash-dash in Morse – again, in FW the signal T typically sends to Iseult. Capitalized or not, they are visible in the two t’s, with their horizontal dashes, of his name. “Laura” takes her name from the laurel, formerly Daphne. (Here, she seems to be the one with the teasing T-song. Compare 68.17.) 203.31: “elfun anon:” eleven and one: 111, or 12 203.34-5: “baised his lippes:” as in “Aeolus,” “Bathe[d] his lips,” i.e. drank, probably to excess 203.35: “kiss akiss after kisokushk:” O Hehir: coisceadh: Gaelic: stop, enough. See 124.4-5 and note. 204.1-2: “hielt her souff:’:” held her breath. Compare 625.28-9: both passages, as McHugh notes, refer to a two-minute period when the Liffey was dry. 204.2-3: “But she ruz two feet hire in her aisne aestumation. And steppes on stilts ever since.” Aestas: Latin for summer. According to this, because of rain and/or thaw, the summer season causes the Liffey to swell and rise, so that crossing it on foot would require stilts. Normal Dublin Liffey depth is three feet: see next entry, note to .6-7. (As best I can determine, its seasonal variations of depth are in fact more or less unpredictable.) Also, Latin aestus means hot – certainly compatible with summer, and we’ve just heard that her lover was “hot” for her (203.33), that she/they were (204.1) parched dry. 204.5: “Nautic Naama’s now her navn:” nautically, naval vessels generally require a certain depth to navigate. Given context, probable scandalous innuendo: she’s the toast of the navy. 204.6: “went through her:” copulated with her. Compare Boylan going “through” Molly in “Circe.” 204.6: “scoutsch breeches:” Scotch breeches: short trousers, ending at the knee. Probably “scoutsch” because worn by Boy Scouts 204.6-7: “Barefoot Burn and Wallowme Wade:” follows logically from .2-3: before her depth increased, it was possible to wade, barefoot, across. Burn – or Burns – is famously a Scotch name, and Wade probably refers to “Wade bridges,” especially “General Wade’s Bridge” across the Tay in Aberfeldy, Scotland, designed by the Scottish anti-Jacobite General George Wade. Also, a “burn” is a brook. Joyce's Notebook VI.B.37, includes a citation of "Barefoot" as the Norse King Magnus Barefoot.. 204.7: “Lugnaquillia’s noblesse pickts:” the plural notwithstanding, pictures of Lugnaquilla show only one peak. 204.8: “bossom:” bosom, blossom 204.8: “bossom to tempt a birch canoedler:” surely a hint of flagellant inclinations: her canoodler feels tempted to birch her bottom. 204.8-9: “to tempt a birch canoedler not to mention a bulgic porterhouse barge:” birchbark canoe, narrow and small, as opposed to broad “porterhouse barge” (.9). Sexual/phallic overtones: especially since both McHugh and Oxford editors have “porterhorse.” (Still, the co-presence of “porterhouse” seems evident: see next entry.) 204.9: “porterhouse barge:” a porterhouse is, originally, a place where porter and other drinks – and, sometimes, food – are served. The Mullingar House, with a proprietor named Porter, would qualify. Also Guinness’s barges transported porter through Ireland’s waterways, and some barges are towed by ("-houses") horses. 204.11: “too frail to flirt with a cygnet’s plume:” obvious? Continues the Leda-swan thread of .10: as a girl, Leda could not have withstood contact with even a baby swan’s feather. 204.14-5: “in birdsong and shearingtime:” shearing time is usually March. 204.15-6: “Sally her nurse was sound asleep in a sloot:” sloot: soot. Compare Cinderella, so named because she slept in the cinders. 204.17-8: “and lay and wriggled…under a fallow coo:” Joyce, in one of his erotic letters to Nora: “I feel your body wriggling under me.” 204.18: “fallow coo:” “Coo” = signature of FW’s doves. Compare Creation’s dove hovering over the abyss. 204.19-20: “maiden hawthorns:” hawthorn: a symbol, or attendant emblem, of the triple goddess in Celtic mythology – mother, maiden, crone 204.21: “drop me the sound of the findhorn’s name:” incorporates “name dropper” 204.21-2: “sombogger:" some bugger (in the bog) 204.23: “trickle me through:” tell me true 204.23: “marcellewaved:” again, Nora had her hair shingled and marcelled. See also 112.28 and note. 204.24: “glows in the florry:” light glowing in flowers; compare 203.29-30: “Letty Lerck’s lafing light throw those laurals,” to which this may be a response, and 215.2-3: “a glow I behold within a hedge.” 204.25-6: “In fear to hear the dear so near or longing:” echoes “maggies” of 142.35-6. 204.28: “Rother!:” parody of stage Englishman, signifying hauteur, i.e. “snouty”ness (.29); she goes on to accuse the other washer of wanting to monopolize all the classy clothing. 204.29: “coifs and guimpes:” respectively, a man’s detachable cuffs and a (McHugh) women’s tuckers – both high-class items. Sideways echo of “collars and cuffs,” a sign of gentility, separately washed 204.29-30: “snouty,…wipers:” see McHugh, and compare Stephen’s “snotrag” in “Telemachus” and the handkerchief in “Cyclops,” clotted with “the rich incrustations of time:” used handkerchiefs are snotty. 204.31: Is it a pinny or is it a surplice? Arran, where’s your nose?:” according to Google Images, it would be pretty easy to confuse a (white) pinafore with a surplice, especially at dusk. (This is probably yet another one of Joyce’s digs at the supposed femininity of clerical clothing, the implication being not so much that priests are effeminate as that they are wolves in sheep’s clothing.) Also, penny or surplus: poor vs rich. Also, female article of clothing (pinafore) versus (priest’s) male clothing: light or no light, she’s surprised that the other woman can’t tell the difference by the smell. See next two entries. 204.31-2: “Arran, where’s your nose?:” Arran Quay, and this is the Liffey at (smelly) low tide. (Compare 91.2-3.) Better, at this juncture of place and time, not to have a nose. 204.32-4: “That’s not the vesdre benediction smell. I can tell from here by their eau de Colo and the scent of her oder they’re Mrs Magrath’s:” garments from the local headquarters of the Order of Benedict (which these are not); odor of sanctity (which this is not). Deduction: the (“eau de Colo”) anus smell comes from the woman, Mrs Magrath. 204.35: “Creases:” greases, from her “moist” (.35) body – again, she’s indignant at having to do the “greasy” (.30) items. Some Irish speakers would pronounce “grease” as “grace.” 204.36: “lawn:” a fine linen; OED says it was the material used in sleeves of bishops’ garments. 204.36: “Baptiste:” batiste: a cotton fabric; etymologically, the origin of “bastard.” 205.4-5: “tripping to sightsee:” day-tripping sightseers 205.6: “they band:” they bend. (Rowers in “oarsclub” bend forward before each stroke; compare 196.9.) 205.7-8: “and here is her nubilee letters too. Ellis on quay in scarlet thread:” Jubilee letters are sent to the laity by religious authorities as part of the celebration of a jubilee year, normally every half century – 1350, 1400, etc. The custom is primarily Catholic, but other Christian sects have sometimes done something similar. Also, “jubilee letters” were mailed, at reduced postal rate, in 1887, as part of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee, and the term sometimes crops up for other commemorative occasions. Also, see 180.2 and note: a “coronetcrimsoned” mark would be fitting for a jubilee year, although in this case “scarlet” brings a hint of scandal, as may the “nubile-” in “nubilee.” 205.8-9: “Ellis on quay in scarlet thread. Linked for the world on a flushcaloured field:” flesh-coloured: pink – but a flush-heated surface would be her skin. The letters are “linked” like the initials of two lovers, and inked, as with a tattoo. At .11 she’s “Kinsella’s Lilith,” apparently his sweetheart or wife. (At 622.3-4 ALP swears that “The Kinsella woman’s man will never seduce me,” but it’s not at all clear – nothing on this subject is - that this man is Kinsella.) 205.15-6: “the Mericy Cordial Mendicants’ Sitterdag-Zindeh-Munaday Wakeschrift:” probably a take-off on the Saturday Evening Post: “Mericy:” French Mercredi (Wednesday); “Mendicant’s’” may (just) be within echo-range of French Vendredi, Saturday. 205.17-20: “(for once they sullied their white kidloves, chewing cuds after their dinners of cheeckin and beggin, with their show us it here and their mind out of that and their when you’re quite finished with the reading matarial):” they were so eager to read the scandal in the paper that for once they were willing to soil their white kid gloves with its newsprint. The “when you're quite finished” is sarcastic faux-politeness. The language here anticipates II.4. 205.18: “kidloves:” pederasty 205.21: “hoaring hair:” hair turning white, like snow and hoarfrost on a mountain top 205.22: “Thaw, thaw:” variant of the crow’s or raven’s “caw,” “cawcaw,” “caca” that proclaims HCE’s guilt, e.g. 49.9, 327.35-6, 357.20, 534.26 205.22:” Exsquire:” ex-squire 205.28: “cammocking:” comically mocking and mimicking 205.29-30: “Evropeahahn cheic house:” a chic European restaurant/hotel/playhouse; a pea-hen chicken house. Once again, extremes meet. 205.29: " turgos:” Turgesius, a.k.a. Turges, Viking conqueror of Dublin 205.30-1: “hamman now cheekmee:” can’t say why, but ham and chicken recalls the earlier “diner of checking and beggin” (.18-9), chicken and bacon. 205.32-4: “reeling and railing round the local as the peihos piped und ubanjees twanged, with oddfellow’s triple tiara busby rotundarinking round his scalp:” compare Bloom’s “Hades” memory of Richie Goulding on a spree: “Great card he was. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday morning, the landlady’s two hats pinned on his head.” (At .29-31, he, or someone, was also giving dancing directions.) 205.32-3: “ubanjees:” Ubangi: African tribe – here as a minstrel show playing banjoes. (Ubangis are or were also known for oversize lips produced by inserting plates or other large disks – a feature that would probably recommend them for such a show.) 205.33: “rotundarinking:” rota: high court of the Catholic Church; goes with (“triple tiara” (.33)) pope’s crown. Also, Dublin’s Rotunda Building, according to Mink, has been used for dances and, in the late 19th century, was a skating rink (hence – “-rinking”). Members of the Roman rota were originally seated in a circle, and the Rotunda is round. Morris, in his act, is “reeling and rolling round” (.32). Dancing (sometimes) and skating-rink skating (always) goes in a circle. 205.34: “Pate-by-the-Neva:” St. Petersburg, on the Neva river. 206.1-6: “the mauldrin…Dame:” I can’t work out a coherent pattern, but this section is deeply interwoven with mythological accounts of the birth of Zeus, i.e. the Jove of .3. The noise is being made by Korybantes or Kouretes in order to hide the sound of his infant cries from his “Grimmfather” (.2-3) grim father, Cronus, who wants to kill him. The protective “Ma” (.3) is Gaea. “Croststyx nyne” (.4): the number of her attendant Korybantes was nine. ("Croststyx” has nine letters.) As a manifestation of the triple goddess, she had dominion over the Styx. (This is woozy, I know, mixing Gaea with other great-mother goddesses: but the whole triple goddess tradition is woozy and mixed. By the end of the sequence, the Virgin Mary has become one of her avatars.) She was also, in this capacity, a witch, and there is an ancient tradition that witches are unable to pass across any road marked with two crossed sticks. (So, .4, “croststyx nyne:” Crossed sticks? Nein! Also, as McHugh notes, a crucifix is made of two crossed sticks.) “Lilt a bolero” (.4): probably the connection is noisy dancing (at .2 it was the can-can, still part of Morris’s (205.28-9) roistering show): the Korybantes stomped their feet and clanged on their shields; bolero dancers stomp their feet and clack their castanettes. I don’t understand “bulling a law” (.4), but among Zeus’ totemic animals the bull was the mammal, and Zeus was the gods’ law-giver. See note to 206.4-5. 206.1: “mauldrin:” modern 206.1-2: “fracassing a great bingkan cagnan with their timpan crowders:” a crowd of crooners, perhaps with raucous instrumental accompaniment, singing songs from Tin Pan Alley; their crowing is tough on the ears’ drums – the tympani. In general, the modern rabble is making a racket. To some extent, they’re backing up or following Morris’s act – thus joining in the mob’s abuse of HCE. 206.2: “bingkan cagnan:” big-gun cannon 206.2: “cagnan:” can-can 206.4-5: “She swore on croststyx nyne wyndabouts she’s be level with all the snags of them yet:” Oxford editors have “she’d” for “she’s.” See note to 206.1-6. ALP resolves/resolved to come to the defense of her traduced husband against his accusers. (As McHugh notes, the gods swore by the River Styx. To cross it was to pass from the land of the living to the dead. As a deity, Styx had sided with Zeus in the war against the titans, including Cronos.) “Snags:” snakes – for ALP, as for Eve, the perennial enemy – and, probably, songs (see .2 and note) 206.7: “fake a shine, the mischiefmaker:” not at all sure, but I suggest that one reading of “shine” here is “Shem.” He is definitely the book’s mischiefmaker, and at .11 ALP will take a bag “off one of her [other] swapsons,” Shaun. (I count about ten FW instances, starting with 10.6 (“hinndoo Shimar Shin”), of “shine” or “shin” indicating Shem.) Throughout FW he is his mother’s ally (Shaun is the father’s), and is always, in some capacity, a collaborator in her letter. 206.9: “What the meurther did she mague:” What on earth did she make? Besides earth, “meurther” combines mother with murder. 206.9: “bergened:” bargained 206.10: “a shammy mailsack:” the sack may be Shaun’s property, but “sham” (170.25) is a signature word for Shem. 206.11: “swapsons:” compare prankquean of 21.4-23.14, swapping one son for the other. 206.13-4: “tidal to join in the mascarete:” entitled (because she’s consulted fashion authorities (“Fashion Display”) and made herself up accordingly) to join in the masquerade, effected, in part, with mascara (etymologically, soot, thus “a dawk of smut to her airy ey” (207.8)). 206.14: “O gig goggle of gigguels:” goggling gaggle of giggling girls/giglots 206.15-21: “Minneha…”It’s too screaming…gurgle…O leave me my faculties!:” Telling her story, she suffers disabling attacks of the giggles. Compare the barmaids at the beginning of “Sirens.” 206.16-7: “Make my hear it gurgle gurgle:” Also (see previous entry) compare the same barmaids, listening for the sound of the sea in the shell, which is really the sound of the blood in the ear, pumped from the heart: Make me hear it gurgle gurgle; my ear go gurgle gurgle. (Also compare to 245.13-14, where “Lubbernabohore,” laying his ear to a) the river, and b) the ribs under which beat his heart, picks up the sound of “giregargoh.”) 206.16-8: "Make my hear it gurgle gurgle, like the farest gargle gargle in the dusky dargle! By the holy well of Mulhuddart:" the holy well of Zamzam is the site of the Kaaba of Mecca, Mohammedanism's holeist site, here heard going "gurgle gurgle." 206.18-9: “Mulhuddart…mount:” echo of Mohammed and mountain; also contrast between mud hut and mountain. Compare 418.17. 206.19-20: “mount of impiety:” Mink notes that “Monte de Pietà” is slang for pawnshop – clearly the meaning at 541.13-4 (“to Madame of Pitymount I loue yous”), but I can’t see how it applies here. Best guess: phrenology’s mount of veneration. In the next line she will ask to have her “faculties” left alone, and “faculties” was a distinctively phrenological term. 206.21: “get out of the punt:” again (see 196.9 and note): sometimes they’re rowers, sometimes they’re punters. Much of the rest of the paragraph (.22-8) is one rower (or punter) giving advice or orders to another. 206.23: “Take my stroke and bend to your bow:” instruction in both rowing and fiddling. A singing lesson joins in next. 206.24: “pull your overthepoise:” the expression “pull your weight” – i.e. avoirdupois. Perhaps also a caution not to tip over the boat past its balance – its point of poise – while she’s getting into it. 206.25-6: “Thouat’s the fairway:” That’s the fairway: “Fairway:” OED: “A navigable channel between rocks, sandbanks, etc., in a river or other body of water.” 206.26: “Hurry slow:” Festina lente 206.28: “pooleypooley:” Pull…pull 206.29 ff.: “First…” for ALP’s Liffey operations, compare this, from Herodotus, The Persian Wars (translated by George Rawlinson), on the changes made to the Euphrates River by the Babylonian queen Nicrotis: "And first, whereas the river Euphrates, which traverses the city, ran formerly with a straight course to Babylon, she, by certain excavations…rendered it so winding that it comes three several times in sight of the same village…She also made an embankment along each side of the Euphrates, wonderful both for breadth and height, and dug a basin for a lake a great way above Babylon, close alongside of the stream…When the excavation was finished, she had stones brought, and bordered with them the entire margin of the reservoir. These two things were done, the river made to wind, and the lake excavated, that the stream might be slacker by reason of the number of curves, and the voyage be rendered circuitous, and that at the end of the voyage it might be necessary to skirt the lake and so make a long round." 206.30: “mothernaked:” may recall Lady Godiva, another female champion. (Glasheen lists no occurrence of the name, but the story’s Peeping Tom is definitely a FW presence, as are “coventry plumpkins” (353.26-7); the story is set in Coventry.) Also, see 207.6-7 and note.) 206.31: “wupper and lauar:” upper and lower (hair): i.e. both of head and of pubis 206.33: “warthes and:” Cromwell: “warts and all.” Genital warts (see previous entry, next two entries) are probably in the picture. 206.33: “itcher: clitoris. Compare next entry. 206.33-4: “butterscatch:” the penis, entering the vagina, butts in, and scratches. OED dates “snatch” as equaling “cunt” from 1904. 206.34: “serpenthyme:” Thyme, in some traditions, was supposed to protect against snakes. 206.35: “quincecunct:” Much tradition identifies the quince as the fruit of love, antedating the apple. It played a central part in marriage ceremonies, more than enough to justify its fusion here with the ("-cunct") cunt. 207.6-7: “richmond and rehr, of Irish rhunerhinerstones and shellmarble bangles:” see McHugh. “Rich and Rare were the Gems She Wore” tells the story of a beautiful woman, outfitted in finery and jewels, who rides unprotected from one end of Ireland to the other without interference. Moral: “For though they [Irish men] love woman and golden store, / …They love honour and virtue more.” 207.8: “dawk of:” dab of 207.9-12: “Pufflovah, and the lellipos cream to her lippeleens and the pick of the paintbox for her pommettes, from strawbirry reds to extra violates, and she sendred her boudeloire maids to His Affluence, Ciliegia Grande and Kirschie Real, the two chirsines:” a Pavlova is a popular desert named for the dancer. Its basic ingredients are meringue (hence the “Puff” in “Pufflovah”), whipped cream, and fruit. Since McHugh and Oxford editors have “chirrines” for “chirsines,” one of the fruits in question may be cherries. 207.10: “pommettes:” as in: applecheeked, as heightened by makeup. (See McHugh.) 207.11: “boudeloire:” boudoir, Baudelaire: .9-12 is also about ALP’s makeup, and Baudelaire wrote “In Praise of Cosmetics.” 207.11: “extra violates:” ultraviolet 207.12: “Ciliegia Grande and Kirschie Real, the two chirsines.” Again, Oxford and McHugh both have “chirrines.” From well before Joyce’s time “cherry” was slang for virginity. The two girls here are, or are presented as, virgins, for his delectation or distraction. 207.13: “his missus, seepy and sewery:” probably a reflection on the Liffey’s increasing pollution as it approaches and flows through Dublin. (Ulysses notes the “sewage” of the Liffey and Poddle Rivers.) Also, some rather extreme self-deprecation from “the missus.” See next item. 207.14: “might she passe of him for a minnikin:” might she pass a minute with him. (As in the book’s closing pages, this super-respectful act seems intended to buck him up – in this case, to be sure, equally-oppositely counterpointed with hints that she wants to ("pass of him") piss on him.) 207.15-6: “The cock striking nine, the stalls bridely sign:” it would have to be the dead of winter for the cock to start crowing at nine, and, for the merchants’ stalls to start lighting up at that hour. Also, if a man is standing up, and his cock is at the nine o’clock mark, he has an erection, ready for his bride. In Joyce’s sigla this is sometimes represented with HCE’s E, lying on its back, the three upright prongs signifying head, penis, feet. 207.18: “lump his back:” lampblack: the carbon residue from fire – and she just paid a split-second visit to “light a taper” (.14-5), while his back was turned because of the distraction from the two cherry-girls she’d sent. 207.18: “mealiebag:” mail bag has become meal-bag, that is, grain-bag. ALP is now, among other available incarnations, Abundantia (at 577.15 she is “grace abunda”), with her cornucopia. (Should not shock that, at some level, she got it by trickery and theft, when ("bag") his back was turned: compare Jacob.) 207.21: “Spitz on the iern:” a washerwoman spitting on the flatiron before using it – probably common practice before steam irons were current. In Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers, Paul’s mother “spat on the iron,” then “rubbed the iron on the sack lining of the hearthrug.” 207.23 “lomba strait:” Lambeh Strait, Indonesia 207.24: “Leste:” Listen 207.25: “caratimaney:” cartomancy: fortune-telling by cards 207.25: “Whole lady fair:” holiday fair. Also, see previous item: “fair lady” sounds like something from a card reading. 207.31-3: “It might have been ten or twenty to one of the night of Allclose or the nexth of April:” Pace Ellmann, Nora Barnacle was born on ("twenty to one") the 21st of March, the month before April, which comes ("nexth") next in the calendar. 207.35-6: “ems…aues:” M-A’s: “Ma:” proverbially, infant’s first word, for (“moma” (.34)) mama 208.2: “Werra:” according to O Hehir, “Mhuire:” Gaelic interjection: “[Virgin] Mary” 208.5: “The linth of my hough:” the length of my ankle (human equivalent of animal “hough” or “hock.”) A more drastic version of “not up to your elb[ow]” (207.36-208.1). 208.7: “sugarloaf hat:” worn by both men and women in 18th and 19th century. Broad brim, high, rounded crown. In “Circe,” one is worn by “Old Gummy Grammy.” 208.8: “band of gorse for an arnoment:” an ornament in her (“sugarloaf”) hat. The Plantagenets are supposed to have taken their name from the founder’s having worn a sprig of broom in his hat, and gorse and broom are closely related and almost identical in appearance. 208.9: “guildered pin:” gilt hatpin 208.10: “fishnetzeveil for the sun not to spoil:” to prevent the sun from wrinkling or freckling her skin 208.11: “hydeaspects:” given the etymological origin of both “aspect” and “spect,” I suggest that “hide and seek” is part of the package here. For flirting purposes, the point of the veil is to both conceal and reveal her face, especially her "-aspects" - eyes. 208.12: “laudsnarers:” ears as concave acoustic receptacles for snaring noise in general, praise in particular 208.12: “her nude cuba stockings:” “Cuban stockings” fetishistically emphasize heel, toe, and seam; “nude:” sheer. Compare next entry. 208.12: “salmospotspeckled:” salmon have spots. Here, her sheer stockings are decorated with sequin-like spots. 208.13-4: “fast till ran in the washing:” “fast” colors in clothing are those from dyes that do not run in the washing. 208.14: “stays:” term for women’s undergarments, especially the corset 208.15: “bloodorange:” reddish orange color. 208.15. “bockknickers:” “bock” from German for “goat.” “Knickers:” women’s underpants. (Too obvious? Perhaps not to American readers.) 208.15-6: “bockknickers, a two in one garment, showed natural nigger boggers, fancyfastened, free to undo:” see “Circe” (“knickers, closed”) and “Penelope,” with Molly’s “black closed breeches:" closed knickers were drawers with no vent at the crotch, so that a woman wishing to urinate had to undo and pull them down; open knickers allowed access in one direction and perhaps here (“bockknickers” being the reverse of “knickerbockers”) the other as well. “Natural nigger” may mean that those in a primitive state of nature don’t need to worry about such niceties. “Two in one garment:” because both knickers (underwear) and knickerbockers (outerwear) 208.18: “leadown:” lea = meadow. Also Gaelic for bed, where she can lie down 208.19: “a brace of gaspers stuck in her hayrope garters:” “gaspers:” cigarettes. Perhaps “hayrope” echoes higher-up (compare 199.21, where the garters are, in 20s style, just above the knee). In any case, a woman of the time with cigarettes visibly stuck in her garters would have been considered pretty brazen. 208.19: “royal swansruff:” presumably by analogy to swan’s-skin, a delicate flannel. Also, for the Elizabethans, a ruff was a frill worn about the neck, signifying nobility: the wider the ruff, the higher up. Also, overtone of “Royal Nonesuch” in Huckleberry Finn, in turn a takeoff on Henry VIII’s Nonsuch Palace 208.21: “twobar tunnel belt:” “tubular belts,” made of leather, were fashion items for both men and women in the early 20th century. “Tunnel belt loops” sometimes appear in clothing advertisement from around the same time; they are, apparently, simply the kind of belt loops found on most trousers today. In keeping with the gigantism of this sequence, both “tubular belt” and “tunnel belt” also show up in accounts of engineering and mining apparatus. 208.21: “fourpenny bit:” in its time – it was taken out of circulation in the mid-19th century – an exceptionally large, therefore heavy, coin: 16 mm. diameter. (The largest, the pre-decimal penny, was 20 mm.) 208.23-4: “she had a clothespeg tight astride on her joki’s nose:” in comics and pantomimes of the time, a clothespin on the nose signaled the presence of some bad odor. The following lines (.24-6), especially “rrreke,” may imply a low-tide smell where the Liffey meets the sea. (McHugh has the note “river stinks.”) Apparently the clothespin on the nose resembles a jockey astride a horse; “clothespeg” may owe something to “clotheshorse.” 208.23-4: “she kep on grinding a sommething quaint in her fiumy mouth:” pebbles being ground to sand by the tidal action at the river’s mouth; at .27-8 shells (“whelk”) will also be part of the mix. In “Nausicaa,” Bloom remembers Molly “gnashing her teeth in sleep.” 208.25: “snuffdrab:” in contemporary textbook lists of “Irregular Colors,” “snuff, drab” appears in between “chestnut” and “gray.” 208.26: “trailed ffiffty odd Irish miles behind her lungarhodes:” the Liffey’s length is usually given as around 77 miles. Since an Irish mile is 1.27 English miles, the Liffey by this calculation is about sixty miles – close to fifty-odd. 208.27-8: “Sweet gumptyum…in whelk of her mouths?:” apparently the “something quaint” (.24) she was grinding in her mouth was gum. (Though not, to be sure, the sweet gum – a.k.a. liquid amber – from which turpentine is made.) The question about Which [“whelk”] of her mouths is in action continues the conceit of her vagina as a second mouth: the “quaint” of “something quaint” (.24) is ME for cunt, and “whelk” has sometimes been a term for the same. 208.27: “Hellsbells:” maybe obvious, but “Hell’s bells!” was a popular imprecation. My Australian-born father used it all the time. 208.28: “whelk:” a shell, because we’re at the seashore. 208.29: “Delia:” according to some versions, short for Bidelia, in turn an Englishing of Bridget, Ireland’s female counterpart to Patrick 208.29-31: “Everyone that saw her said the dowce little delia looked a bit queer. Lotsy trotsy, mind the poddle:” remembered voices of people warning the queer, that is ill-looking, ALP not to trip and fall in the wet 208.30: “Missus:” at .27 we had (“missed her”) Mister. 208.31: “say:” Irish pronunciation of sea 208.31: “Fenny poor hex she must have charred:” Many poor men [“hecs” = hce’s = men] she must have charmed! (Good news/bad news: she was a charmer in her day, now past.) 208.31: “Fenny:” fen-like 208.32: “frumpier:” a frump is an unattractive woman, well past her prime. The conversation has turned distinctively catty, emphasizing ALP’s forlorn efforts to reclaim her flirtatious youth. 208.32-3: “boys dobelon:” Bois de Boulogne, at edge of Paris. Associated with courtship and, later, prostitution 208.33-4: “their Chariton queen, all the maids:” queen of the May, but overtone of Charon sounds an opposite note, especially considering (see 206.1-6) his office of rowing the dead across the Styx. 208.34-5: “Of the may?...murrayed her mirror:” Mary Murray, Joyce’s mother. In “Circe,” Stephen’s mother’s ghoulish ghost tells him that she “was once the beautiful May Goulding.” Here, it’s “Well for her she couldn’t see herself,” now, in that mirror. 208.35: “recknitz wharfore:” also “recognize.” “I reckon” was considered a typical Americanism throughout the 19th century. “Wharfore” is apparently another: compare “Wall, tarnation strike me!” in “Scylla and Charybdis.” Also, “plugchewing,” at 209.1, would go with the American theme: chewing plugs of tobacco was a distinctly American habit, much reviled by visitors. Compare 280.36-209.1 and note, 209.9 and note. 208.36: “koros:” recalling the Korybantes of 206.1-6 208.36: “drouthdropping:” drouthy: thirsty (to the point of dropping dead) for liquor 208.36-209.1: “surfacemen:” servicemen. Given the context, mainly the American soldiers of 1917-18, who would have been chewing those plugs and (“boomslanging” (209.1)) booming their slang. The gist of their commentary, at least as related by the washerwomen, is that ALP looks like a pathetically old flirt, someone who has been around the block a few too many times. 209.2-3: “the fluctuation and the undification of her filamentation:” a sardonic version of her (204.23) “marcellewaved” hair 209.4: “Jukar Yoick’s:” Duke of York’s – a popular pub name, here meshing with “New York’s:” again, the crowd is mainly American. Also, Duke of (“Clarence’s” (.7) Clarence), whose family sided with the Yorkists in the War of the Roses and, along with his brother, was drowned in a butt of Malmsey 209.5: “marritime…grasswinter’s weeds:” my emphasis. The Merry Widow. The operetta debuted in 1905. Compare next entry. 209.5: “weeds:” widow’s weeds; seaweed 209.9: “or…or:” this archaic formula – as opposed to the usual “either…or,” seems incongruous, given the notably slangy context. 209.9: “face…lifted:” also the “face of the waters” – from Genesis; appears at 3.14 - lifted with the tide 209.9: "Alp has doped:" not to belabor, but “doped” in this sense was an Americanism. 209.10: “the game in her mixed baggyrhatty?” In hunting, one bags game. In “Oxen of the Sun,” a “bag” is Purefoy’s day’s catch of fish. Also, what was her game? What was she up to? 209.13: “ball:” given the context, a cannon ball 209.14: “aubette my bearb:” I bet my beard – a fairly common expression at the time. Also, according to Macbeth and other sources, witches have beards. (Other items in the vicinity that may trace to the witch chants in Macbeth: “thunder” (.12: “When shall we three meet again? / In thunder, lightning or in rain?”), “battle” (.13: “When the hurly-burly’s done / When the battle’s lost and won”), “son of a ditch” (.15: “Finger of birth-strangled babe / Ditch-delivered by a drab”), “do, do!” (.15: “I’ll do, and I’ll do and I’ll do,” and, perhaps, “Shake:” (.14), Shakespeare. In other words, a FW cluster. Perhaps bizarre, but there’s a chance that “And I don’t mean maybe” (.16), as in the popular 1925 song “Yes, sir, that’s my baby, / No, sir, I don’t mean maybe,” owes its place to the proximity of “babe.”) 209.17: “a goodfor:” American expression: a goodfornothing; English equivalent would be ne’er-do-well. 209.17: “Spey me pruth:” say the truth 209.18: “arundgirond:” Gironde is French for “pretty.” Also, compare 239.26-7: “Whyfor we go ringing hands in hands in “gyrogyrorondo.” “Gyro” is probably being sounded in “-girond.” 209.18: “arundgirond in a waveney lyne aringarouma:” as in the 239.26-7 passage cited above, “a ring around the rosie” is part of the soundtrack. Also, overtone of “underground.” To quote from a guide to the region, the Liffey “rises in upland bog near the road between the Sally Gap and Glencree in Co. Wicklow.” The Poddle is underground during much of its passage through Dublin. 209.20: “drier:” counterpointed with “wild,” this means relatively dull, pedestrian. 209.22-3: “chattahoochee…chichiu:” “Chatanooga Choo-Choo.” Problem: the song came out in 1941. Either the phrase was in circulation before then (Google Books is no help here) or this is a striking coincidence. (Hodgart and Worthington, usually very reliable, cited this in their Song in the Works of James Joyce and, because of the dating issues, were taken gently to task in A Wake Newslitter.) 209.23: “nistling to hear for their tiny hearties:” listening for the heart-beats of baby birds, in their nest 209.25: “reconciled Romas and Reims:” the cathedrals in Rome and Reims: patching up the pope-antipope split of the 14th century. 209.26: “spatters:” spats 209.27: “Christmas box:” Boxing Day, the day after Christmas 209.27-8: “iveryone of her childer, the birthday gifts they dreamt they gave her:” again, your annotator believes that this is set on March 21, Nora Barnacle’s birthday. 209.29-30: “On the matt, by the pourch and inunder the cellar. The rivulets ran aflod to see:” the Liffey can sometimes flood, for instance inundating cellars. (Also, flow in under them: again, its course is sometimes subterranean.) “To see:” to sea 209.31: “Out of the paunschaup:” if the gifts aren’t returnable on Boxing Day, they can always be pawned. 209.33: “artesaned wellings:” aside from (McHugh) artesian wells, another sign of the river’s subterranean passages, artisan’s dwellings – evidently in the slums 209.33: “rickets:” a disease of the poor. Like “riots,” in the same line, goes with the slum setting 209.33: “Smyly Boys:” Compare Portrait, where Temple calls Dixon a “smiler.” 209.34: “vicereine’s levee:” apart from being a barrier protecting city from river, equal-oppositely the rising of the river itself. Also, the vicereine would presumably be the wife of Ireland’s viceroy from England, her lévee after the pattern of the monarchal morning ceremony of that name. 209.36: “tambre:” tambourine? She’s been dancing around. 209.36: “raising a bit of a chir:” compare Molly’s singing in “Wandering Rocks:” “the gay sweet chirping whistling.” ALP is singing. 210.2: “Maundy meerschaundize:” Monday is the traditional washday. “Maunder” – to wander, mentally – traces to the word, and river, Meander. Maundy Thursday is the day in Easter week when the pope washes the feet of twelve paupers. (Hence, perhaps, the “stinkers and heelers” of the next line.) “Maundy” traces back to Christ’s “mandatum novum,” the “new commandment” that we love one another. This is probably the reason that it has come to signify the giving of alms, like the gifts that ALP is about to start handing out to her children. “Meerschaum” is often called “Venus of the Sea,” in an allusion to Venus’s birth: compare 241.14-5. A “Meerschaum pipe” is made out of the material of that name; at 200.18 ALP, in her crone phase, was smoking a pipe. 210.3: “and all for sore aringarung:” I don’t know what kind of name “aringarung” may encompass, but given the context, “sore” probably counts as “Sir:” something in the order of a sarcastic allusion to “His Highness.” (See note to 195.19.) In any case, another “Ring around the rosie” (see 209.18). McHugh has Erinnerung, German for remembrance, which may be a component of FW’s first word, “riverrun.” We’re at another beginning point. 210.3: “stinkers and heelers:” “Stinker” and “heel” were both slang American terms for disreputable males. (“Stinker” shows up in P. G. Wodehouse, referring to a range of disagreeable people or things.) 210.4: “laggards and primelads:” another take on the ubiquitous Jacob and Esau theme, for instance in the “Caddy and Primas” sequence starting at 14.10. “Prime” as in primogeniture, but also good news/bad news: Isaac, almost but not quite sacrificed by Abraham, was a first-born son – therefore (almost) prime meat in the borderline days just before the Abrahamic Covenant. “Lotus-Eaters:” “slapping a palm on a ripemeated hindquarter, there's a prime one.” By contrast, see entry for .7. 210.6: “and kiks the buch:” testifiers in British courts were required to kiss the (English) Bible. Joyce’s essay “Ireland at the Bar” tells the story of a namesake who was hanged because, in part, he couldn’t read its (English) language. Although kicking the book in question wouldn’t have done him any good, he certainly would have had a point. 210.6-7: “a tinker’s bann…Gipsy Lee:” expression: I don’t give a tinker’s damn. Tinkers – tin-workers – were traditionally gypsies. 210.7: “bully:” bully beef – tinned beef made infamous in World War I; not something one would eat if given a choice 210.7: “Gipsy Lee:” McHugh has “Lee” as a “famous gypsy name” – explanation enough, certainly, but Gypsy Rose Lee, born in 1911, was becoming increasingly prominent in the FW years. So: maybe, maybe not. That she is out to “boil his billy,” to heat him up in the region of his willy, may tip the balance to the affirmative. 210.7: “cartridge:” a sealed container. Goes with the tinned “bully beef” preceding it. (From now on, I will be using the underlined word “continuity” for cases where one item in the list is related to its predecessor.) 210.9: “acid nephew deltoid drops:” see note to 220.04. According to Wikipedia Images, acid drops were usually oval, not deltoid. 210.9-10: “a cough and a rattle and wildrose cheeks:” all signs of imminent death from fever. Following “acid [cough] drops,” continuity 210.12: “brazen nose:” noselessness – and therefore some artificial substitute, for example made of bronze – was famously a late symptom of syphilis. 210.13: “Johnny Walker Beg:” not just (McHugh) Johnny Walker whiskey; Johnny Walker Black, marketed and sold as a notch above Johnny Walker Red. First Google hit is 1923. 210.14: “O’Dea:” given religious tenor of this item, “Dea” as the feminine for Deo, God 201.14: “puffpuff:” a “puff” is a positive notice in the newspapers, usually with a sense of dishonesty or favoritism. Appears in this sense in “Aeolus” 210.15-6: “nightmarching hare for Techertim Tombigby; waterleg and gumboots:” in “Oxen of the Sun,” “gumboots” are galoshes. Given the military context, “waterleg” is probably a variation on trenchfoot, a well-known WW I condition caused by standing in the mud and water at the bottoms of trenches. Galoshes, of course, would be a logical protection against this condition. Also, overtones of “waterlogged” and, perhaps – again, given the military setting – “gunboats.” A British infantryman was a “Tom[my] Atkins.” “Nightmarching:” wars traditionally starts in March, month of Mars. 210.16: “Bully Hayes and Hurricane Hartigan:” contains, in order, H, A, R R, IGAN, as in “H, A, double-R I, GAN spells Harrigan.” The George M. Cohan song debuted in 1908. 210.17: “prodigal heart and fatted calves:” sounds healthy, all right, but in “Cyclops,” the decidedly unhealthy citizen (his original, Michael Cusack, was to die about a year and a half after Bloomsday), reputedly suffers from both – a hypertrophied “rower’s heart,” and limbs, presumably including the calves, swollen by dropsy (today called oedema.) And, of course, one fattens a calf in order to kill it. 210.18: “a loaf of bread and a father’s early aim for Val from Skibbereen:” in the song “Old Skibbereen,” a father tells his son that he bundled him up as a baby and took him into exile because of English persecution during the Famine; the grown-up son in response vows to return to Ireland and seek vengeance. I suggest that the loaf of bread (because of the Famine) and “father’s early aim” relate to this story. “Eumaeus” calls sailor Murphy a “Skibbereen father,” maybe just because Murphy says he has a grown-up son in Carrigaloe, nearby to Skibbereen. 210.19-20: “a jauntingcar for Larry Doolin, the Ballyclee jackeen:” my Gaelic notes from Brendan O Hehir tell me that “Ballyclee jackeen” designates a Dublin flunky – i.e. a Dublin native who has sold out to the Ascendancy – which probably explains why, like Blazes Boylan (also accused of being a stooge for the British), he can afford to travel in a jauntingcar. 210.21: “louse and trap:” horse and trap: a horse and carriage for rent or hire. Also, Cockney rhyming slang for the clap. See next item. 210.21: “slushmincepies:” “mincepies:” continuity: more Cockney rhyming slang, in this case for “eyes.” 210.22: “a hairclip and clackdish for Penceless Peter:” as McHugh says, “hairclip” = hairlip. This may come from the Sherlock Holmes story, “The Man with the Twisted Lip.” (See also 169.13 and note.) “Penceless Peter:” P.P.: penniless Parish Priest, the opposite of (again, see McHugh) the pope, recipient of “Peter’s pence.” 210.23-4: “a drowned doll, to face downwards, for modest Sister Anne Mortimer:” McHugh notes that Pliny the Elder wrote that drowned women float face downward; the same tradition can be found in Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, which Joyce consulted. Also, in the Colums’ Our Friend James Joyce (p. 115), Joyce morosely translates one of Nora’s family names, “Mortimer,” into “death at sea.” “Modest:” because face-downwards obviates what movie people call full-frontal nudity – the assumption being that it wouldn’t be as much of a concern for a drowned man. Ergo, drowned men float upright. 210.24-5: “altar falls for Blanchisse’s bed:” waterfalls, certainly, but good old Google confirms that “altar falls” are a feature of Catholic liturgy, either the ornamental cloth covering the altar, including the ends falling down from the edges, or the cloth placed over it. The idea here seems to be that it resembles the part of the bedspread or coverlet hanging at the sides of a made-up bed. 210.25: “Wildairs’ breechettes for Magpeg Woppington:” a later variant of this lady, “Mrs Wildhare Quickdoctor,” will show up at 227.4-5. Given that “breeches” = pants, “breechettes” should be either pants for women or abbreviated pants - or, most likely, both: knickers, say, with whom both Bloom and Joyce had what might be called a special relationship. (Google Books turns up about fifteen non-FW occurrences of the word, the first from 1946; most but not all apparently have to do with doll clothes.) The counterpoint with virginal “Bridget” seems entirely ironic, especially since 227.4-5 marries her to a quack doctor, i.e. one specializing, spuriously, in venereal disease. (And later we get “Population Peg,” perhaps Margaret Sanger (436.10).) “Mag” and “Peg” (or “Peggy”) are both popular nicknames for someone named “Margaret,” and Margaret-Marge is Issy’s infra dig subconscious mirror-twin alter ego, which is why I think “Magpeg” probably includes “Mad Peg.” 210.25-6: “to Sue Dot a big eye; to Sam Dash a false step:” Sue gives Sam the eye, causing him to miss a step. According to tradition, “iamb,” because an iamb sounds like the step of someone with a lame leg, derives from the Greek for “to limp.” So: Dot-Dash: metrical annotation for an iamb. I suggest that Sam’s “false step” reinforces this reading. Metrically, the entry itself would probably count as a bacchius (. - -), repeated four times – something either rare or unheard-of in English poetry. (It’s probably irrelevant here, but FW sometimes makes metrical annotation and Morse code interchangeable, and in Morse, this would read as four W’s.) 210.26-7: "snakes in clover, picked and scotched, and a vaticanned viper catcher’s visa for Patsy Presbys:” “Presbys” = bishop; St. Patrick was Bishop of Ireland. “Visa:” he was also a foreigner. “Presbys” chimes with Picts and Scots, natives of Scotland’s Presbyterian north. The general sense: Ireland (“clover”) was invaded by seditious Protestant missionaries; Rome licensed Patrick to drive them out, as he had the snakes; a bishop besting an invasion of bishopry, he was fighting fire with fire. 210.28-9: “a reiz every morning for Standfast Dick and a drop every minute for Stumblestone Davy:” a reliable early-morning erection for the healthy youth (“cockstand” = erection), and perpetual alcoholism – traditionally a subverter of potency – for the decayed oldster. (He “takes a drop” every minute of the day.) Oliver Cromwell’s son and ineffectual successor was called “Tumbledown Dick.” “Standfast,” by contrast, pretty clearly connotes staunch qualities of an heroic cast – as in the novel Mr. Standfast, by John Buchan. 210.29: “scruboak beads:” a scrub oak is a dwarf oak. Maybe Biddy’s (wooden) beads are miniatures. (As a “lookemelittle…hen” (111.22-3), she’s certainly on the small side.) Then again, as a traditional name for household slavey, that is live-in servant, “Biddy” goes with someone used to scrubbing the oak floors, oak or otherwise, of her employers. 210.29-30: “two appletweed stools for Eva Mobbely:” some furniture – including, presumably, stools – is made from applewood. The “apple” in “appletweed” goes, obviously, with Eva. Given 1. the chamber pot in the next entry (continuity), and 2. Uncle Charles’ affirmation in Portrait that apples are good for the bowels (several passages in FW second this), I suggest that the excremental sense of “stools” may be in play here. In any event, we’re definitely into a run about menial jobs. 210.30-1: “for Saara Philpot a Jordan vale tearorne:” the Jordan River is in a ("vale") valley. Sweetheart of the executed Robert Emmet, this Sarah is shedding – “vale tear” - a valedictory tear. “Philpot:” the chamber pots she empties are filled, so she receives a, presumably empty, tea urn. FW obviously misses few opportunities to equate tea with urine. (The consensus is that the “little language” of Journal to Stella, where "coffee" is similarly doubled, plays a part in this.) A type of heroic Ireland now reduced to degrading penury, she corresponds to the “poor old woman,” once a queen. 210.31-32: “a pretty box of Pettyfib’s Powder for Eileen Aruna to whiten her teeth and outflash Helen Arhone:” a “fib” is a petty lie. Since “Aruna” is, as McHugh says, “the Phaeton of India myth,” her counterpart, surnamed “Arhone,” is her stay-at-home opposite: glamor vs. hominess. Elsewhere in FW, women apply powder to whiten their skin, not their teeth. (Which makes sense here, since the Indian “Aruna” is presumably dark of complexion; whitened teeth would look all the flashier by contrast.) Powder rooms – the name itself is a ("Pettyfib's") pretty fib – were where ladies retired to powder their noses (see 200.6, above) and/or fill the pot. In general, this is a “Who is the most beautiful of them all” contest – one Helen trying to outshine the other. 210.32-3: “a whippingtop for Eddy Lawless:” Google Books confirms that a “whipping top” was a popular toy for boys; the “whip” was used to increase the top’s speed once it had been sent spinning. Also, obviously, a mordant prophecy: her lawless son will go, often, to the whipping-post. 210.34: “foolish pitcher:” (See McHugh.) The story of Kitty of Coleraine is told in the anonymous Irish ballad “The Broken Pitcher.” Kitty (foolishly) breaks the pitcher while eying the male balladeer, then, when he kisses her, swears (foolishly) that for such another she’d “break it again,” with the result that all the pitchers of Coleraine thereafter are broken. 210.34: “putty shovel:” continuity: I suggest that “putty shovel” goes with “foolish pitcher,” by way of this, from the OED: “putty medal: humorous: a worthless reward for insignificant service or achievement.” (This usage occurs in “Penelope.”) Why “shovel” here instead of “medal?” No idea 210.35: “niester egg:” also “nest egg” 210.35: “Promoter:” see next item. Boxing matches are arranged by “promoters.” Again: continuity. 210.36: “dynamight right:” boxing talk: a “dynamite right” would be a fighter’s punch with his (mighty) right hand. 211.1: “Cloack:” cloaca-sewer: Cholera frequently occurs when sewer water gets mixed up with drinking water. 211.1: “starr:” star: Swift’s Stella 211.3: “mangolds noble to sweeden their bitters:” according to various sources, the mangel-wurzel and the swede (turnip) have often been mistaken for one another, notably in 1921 by American essayist and lexicographer H.L. Mencken. (“Swede” because bred in Sweden.) By (Google) report, young mangel-wurzels are sweet-tasting; they were also once used in the brewing of beer. Given (see McHugh) that on one level this entry constitutes a snarky allusion to fellow Irishmen Shaw and Yeats, who both, unlike you-know-who, won the (Swedish) Nobel Prize, with its gold medal, “bitters” probably includes “betters.” 211.4: “in his frey:” “Innisfree” in part follows the earlier item’s inclusion of Yeats. Again: continuity. 211.4: “for Seumas, thought little, a crown he feels big:” with “though” in “thought,” compression of: for Seumas, though little (because he thought he was), a crown makes him feel big 211.5: “cross on the back:” the donkey is supposed to have a cross inscribed on its back in memory of its carrying Jesus into Jerusalem. In some manifestation, the Shem-Jim character is a donkey. 211.6: “Twimjim:” Slim jim, schoolboy confection mentioned in Portrait, chapter two. And, of course, Jim Joyce was always slim. Continuity: “Seumas” is Irish version of “James.” 211.6-7: “a praises be and spare me days for Brian the Bravo:” a “bravo” is a daring criminal, often a murderer. 211.7-8: "pentiplenty of pity with lubilashings of lust for Olona Lena Magdalena:" a reworking, I think, of this, from King Lear IV.vi.10-12: Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! Why does thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her In any case, the same idea. “Pity” echoes “piety.” “Lashings of” is an Anglo-Irish term for: lots of. 211.8-9: “Camilla, Dromilla, Ludmilla, Mamilla, a bucket, a packet, a book and a pillow:” the names and the items resemble the Latinized sylph-names for Belinda’s furnishings in Pope’s The Rape of the Lock. Camilla, taken from Virgil, appears in Pope’s Essay on Criticism. 211.9-10: “for Nancy Shannon a Tuami brooch:” best guess: an ancient brooch from Tuam, found in the Shannon River, where (“for Nancy Shannon”) someone must have once lost it. Joyce originally had “Tuam.” Celtic brooches were the (often ornamental) pins used to fasten cloaks. Irish museums have lots. 211.10-11: “for Dora Riparia Hopeandwater a cooling douche and a warmingpan:” “Hopeandwater:” soap and water. (Obvious?) Goes with “douche.” Cool shower vs. heated hot water bottle. (Obviouser?) 211.11: “a pair of Blarney braggs for Wally Meagher:” this would be the two (wind)bags of the lungs. “Aeolus” works from the same conceit. 211.12: “a hairpin slatepencil for Elsie Oram to scratch her toby, doing her best with her volgar fractions:” hairpin/harpoon: both Lilliputian and Brobdinagian. “Volgar fractions:” vulvar frictions. See 206.33-4 above; also “Improper frictions is maledictions” (269, Fn. 3), which annotates a mother’s advice to her daughter to be careful not to go too far when making out with men. (In which light, it’s probably relevant that lady’s hairpins (also hatpins) were proverbially female weapons useful for discouraging mashers; Bloom’s thoughts on the subject run along these lines; “Sirens” includes the phrase “harpoon hairpin.”) “Frictions” becomes “fractions” because the penis in question is also a “slatepencil” – a soapstone pencil used to write on the slate in classroom lesson; FW sex is often between teacher and pupil. (“Soapstone:” more continuity: the Blarney stone of the previous entry is “the soapstone of silvry speech” (140.27).) A vulgar fraction is one written, for instance, ¾, as opposed to a decimal fraction, written, for instance, .75. 211.14: “a bag of the blues for Funny Fitz:” “blues:” an Americanism for depressed spirits. Opposites meet. Also, considering the laundry/soap theme in play, it might be worth noting that the “blue bag” included in McHugh is so named because it contains “blue,” used to stiffen shirts, collars, etc. (In Portrait, chapter five, Dilly Dedalus is “going for blue,” during a family wash.) Maybe Fitz is a dandy. 211.14: “Missa pro Messa:” Missed (unkept) promise. “Taff de Taff: = Taffy = Welshman, proverbial liar 211.16-7: “Rogerson Crusoe's Friday fast for Caducus Angelus Rubiconstein:” "Caducus:" Cadenus – Swift? Long shot: as an Anglican (“Angelus”) in a Roman Catholic (“Rogerson Crusoe’s”) country, he is expected to observe the Catholic (not Anglican) Friday fast. 211.18: “Victor Hugonot:” Victor Hugo, who was “-not” a Huguenot – although it’s probably pertinent that his island of refuge, Guernsey, became a Huguenot haven after the Edict of Nantes. 211.18: “a stiff steaded rake and good varians muck for Kate the Cleaner:” “rake:” a successful ladies’ man. “Stiff” may go with this sense. Together, the two make a muckrake, i.e. a dungfork. (The word appears at 87.14.) Kate, the recipient of this particular gift, would use one for her job. (As Dublin’s Kate Strong, she was, to quote from Glasheen’s entry, charged with “removing the abundant filth of the city.”) As a major source of FW’s swirl of malevolent rumors, she qualifies as a muckraker in the early-20th-century sense. 211.20: “J.F.X. Coppinger:” in Catholic environments “F.X.” usually stands for “Francis Xavier” and may, for reasons of business or politics, serve as testament to the bearer’s (non-Protestant) devotion to the faith. 211.20-2: “tenpounten on the pop for the daulphins born with five spoiled squibs for Infanta:” if Dublin’s Dolphin’s Barn were a result of a mis-hearing of “dauphin born” (it isn’t, according to the sources, but at this juncture FW apparently begs to differ) it would belong in the company of London’s Elephant and Castle, according to one theory, also disputed, derived from a mishearing of “La Infanta da Castilla.” A dauphin is the oldest son of the king of France; an infanta is the oldest daughter of the king of Spain. “Pop” in Joyce’s FW notes means Father; “spoiled squibs” echoes “spoiled kids.” 211.21: “five spoiled squibs:” given “tenpounten” earlier, I suggest that “squibs” includes “quid:” she’s getting half as much as him. (Or not even that: often, there are two of her.) I can’t connect the dots here, or, come to that, with the whole dauphin-infanta cluster noted above, but a tenpounder is a kind of cannon – which would certainly make a “pop” when fired – and a “squib” is a kind of firework, proverbially unimpressive. Also – continuity - following “cradles for J.F.X.P Coppinger” (.20), who is always associated with children, five spoiled kids, to go with dauphin and infanta 211.22: “Infanta…Maggi:” again, continuity: it’s not by chance that Maggie, Issy’s subordinate, follows the infanta. 211.24-5: “spas and Speranza and symposium’s syrup for decayed and blind and gouty Gough:” Preceded by – continuity - “Livienbad” (.23), as in the name of a spa. General sense of this entry: he’s falling apart with age, and in response turning to such consolations as the modern world can offer to anyone well-off enough to afford them: spas, sentimental uplifting poetry, sentimentally saccharine uplifting lectures. 211.25-6: “a change of naves and joys of ills for Armoricus Tristram Amoor Saint Lawrence:” aside from Sir Amory’s change of names (and Tristan/Tristram, who changes his name to “Tantris”), this is change of “naves,” – i.e. churches. “Joys of ills:” apart from continuing the theme of improving, uplifting rubbish, this sounds Augustine’s felix culpa. 211.26: “Amoor:” love, French style, vengeance for love betrayed, Othello-the-Moor-style 211.26-8: “a guillotine shirt for Reuben Redbreast and hempen suspenders for Brennan on the Moor:” probably doing the obvious here, but a shirt worn by anyone going to the guillotine, as opposed to the gallows, there to be suspended with “hempen” rope, would definitely end up with a sanguinely red breast. Not clear why “Reuben” should wind up decapitated, however: as Don Gifford notes, Judas was believed to be of “the tribe of Reuben,” and Judas hanged himself. 211.28-9: “an oakanknee for Conditor Sawyer and musquodoboits for Great Tropical Scott:” paired with Scott, who presumably wore his (“musquodoboits”) mosquito boots, footwear for swamps, for exploring the tropics, “oakanknee” suggests cause and effect: the sawyer got his leg sawed off and consequently has a wooden leg; Scott has the boots (and (McHugh) the bites) because of his line of work. “Conditor Sawyer” and “Great Tropical Scott:” honorifics, like “Dictionary Johnson,” “Chinese Gordon,” “Scott of the Antarctic,” etc. “Great Scott!” is a popular interjection. “Oakanknee…Sawyer” revisits 3.7: “topsawyer’s rocks by the stream Oconee.” (Could Joyce have been under the impression that Tom and Huck hailed from Georgia, not Missouri? His familiarity with Huckleberry Finn was spotty.) 211.29: “a C3 peduncle for Karmalite Kane:” more continuity: Sawyer has a wooden leg; Kane has a defective arm, earning him his C3 rating. (McHugh quotes Joyce’s note here: “C3 arm weak.”) A “caramel cane” is the caramel equivalent of a candy cane, but alas Google Books has no hits before 1940. (For what it’s worth, G.B. does reveal that cane sugar was often colored with caramel.) In any case, Bloom in “Lestrygonians” immediately associates the Carmelites with caramel. “Karmalite” signals the Carmelites (who include both men and women) maybe because, as a contemplative order, its spiritual exercises recall those of the Karma-conscious Buddhists. 211.32: “a stonecold shoulder for Donn Joe Vance:” this not only alludes to Don Giovanni but sounds like a clumsy Englishing of the name; compare Byron’s Don Juan, where we are told that a Britisher would pronounce “Juan” to rhyme with “new one.” The “stonecold shoulder” belongs to the opera’s stone guest. 211.33: “Honorbright Merreytrickx:” Final x – French plural ending – certainly in fun. “Honour Bright:” common British expression to indicate complete truthfulness. “Merreytrickx:” meretricious, is the opposite: thoroughly dishonest. Coinciding – or at least paired – contraries. (Why, I wonder, does this give the American spelling, “Honor?”) 211.34-5: “a guilty goldeny bellows, below me blow me, for Ida Ida and a hushaby rocker, Elletrouvetout:” “blow me” probably has no sexual overtones, “guilty” or not. More likely to be pertinent is the OED definition of “bellows” as “lungs” – and before that, as noise-producing component of organs, accordions, harmoniums, etc. – in which regard the English expression “blow me” or “I’ll be blowed” comes into play. “Hushaby rocker:” may be inverted to “Rockaby, husher.” Given the musical cast of this entry, plus, as McHugh notes, the presence of Il Trovatore in “Elletrouvetout,” “Ida Ida” can probably be read as “Id Aida.” (More continuity: “Don Joe Vance,” that is Don Giovanni, three lines up.) Also, as “I, I,” an occurrence of the “mishe mishe” motif established on 3.9, which as it happens also goes with a bellows (“bellowsed”) 211.36-212.1: “whatever you like to swilly or swash, Yuinness or Yennessy:” It’s surely relevant that, in an Irish pub, Guinness would be the commonest order, whereas Hennessy (mentioned in “Circe”) then as now quite expensive, would be for the toffs. This is, or echoes, a publican telling some customer that he can order his choice of fare, from lowest to highest. “Swilly:” swilling: drinking ad libitum, something that goes more easily with Guinness than with Hennessy. The next item, “Laagen or Niger,” counterpointing a light-colored, wheat-fermented beer (lager) with something black (i.e. Guinness: in “Cyclops” it is the “ebon ale”), continues the pub-fare thread. 212.4: “O’Delawarr Rossa and Nerone MacPacem:” War and Peace, a Russian novel 212.5: “pig’s bladder balloon:” pig’s bladders were used for condoms – notably by Casanova – and, blown up, as balloons, in various festivals. 212.7: “Briery:” aside from “briar,” “Briony” was once a popular female name, also a medicinal (and, overdone, poisonous) herb, thereby maintaining the floral thread in this segment. As an adjective, “briery,” not surprisingly, means “briar-like.” 212.9: “Flora Ferns and Fauna Fox-Goodman:” Flora and Fauna. We don’t know the first name of FW’s bell-ringer, Fox-Goodman, but his wife is apparently “Fauna.” 212.10: “Grettna Greaney:” according to Ellmann, “Gretna Green” was the name facetiously ascribed to Nora, because of her elopement with Joyce, and the reason for Gretta’s name in “The Dead.” 212.10: “Penelope Inglesante:” Odysseus’ Penelope’s ingleside – the hearth, center of domestic life, abode of homebodies. Occurs in this sense in Ulysses, which also gives us (“Scylla and Charybdis”) “Penelope stay-at-home.” Probably “sante” is in there to convey angel-of-the-hearth sanctity. 212.10-1: “Lezba Licking:” Odds are, this encompasses “lesbian” – the word, with its current meaning, was certainly around in Joyce’s time. (After all, how many other “lesb” or “lezb” words are out there?) In which case, “Licking” rather falls under suspicion. 212.13: “Irmak Elly:” Irma Kelly. Unidentified 212.14: “Laura:” laurel. Continuity: we’re in a patch of female – flora/fauna transformations: Philomena, Lily, Daisy. Daphne became laurel to escape Apollo. “Fountainoy:” given the aquacentric nature of this chapter, “fountainy” may be in here. My wife the gardener tells me that laurel requires a lot of watering, so the vicinity of a fountain would be in order. 212.14: “Marie Xavier Agnes Daisy Frances de Sales Macleay:” by her name, a super-duper Catholic. See note to 211.20, above. As elsewhere, Joyce cheats, or at least fudges, or anyway fuzzes, with the numbering: up to this last item the tally of continuous female names, starting with “Pruda Ward,” has been 24, and the five names here make for the expected 29 – but then what about the two- (sometimes three-) named entrants leading up to it? Or the one-two-three-three of (.12) “Una Bina Laterza and Trina La Mesme,” who are, incidentally, eighteenth and nineteenth on the list? (Also: by semicolon count – the recipient count is another story), the number of gifts distributed up to the female series beginning with “Pruda Ward” is 71, which with 29 makes for 100, which is a lot but not the “thousand and one” specified (210.5), nor, unlike 3, 54, or 111, is it a number elsewhere associated with either ALP or her children. 212.16: “a moonflower and a bloodvein:” “moonflower” appears in “Oxen of the Sun:” Stephen recalls the superstition that pregnancy can be caused by “reek of moonflower,” which, according to Gifford and Seidman, comes from Pliny’s belief that the influence of a menstruating woman can “cure barrenness.” This probably explains the following words, "but the grapes that ripe before reason," that being pregnancy at a too-early age. I suggest that behind both of ALP’s gifts here are moonstone and bloodstone, the latter being the heliotrope of II.1, and that together they relate to ancient mythologies of the connection between menstruation and the phases of the moon. Compare Bloom’s “Nausicaa” meditations on the theme. As noted for the "moonled brooch with bloodstained breeks" of 11.21-22, menstruation is proverbially a "monthly," moon-led occurrence, and bloodstones were thought to have the magic power to stanch bloodflows. 212.16: “grapes that ripe before reason:” I question McHugh’s reading of “grapes” as testicles: rather, I think, the ovaries, which ripen once a month and are either fertilized or discarded in menstruation. The context is female and heavy in allusions to menstruation – the curse passed on from mother to daughter at puberty. (This being FW, it may of course be both – male and female puberty, arriving before either is mature enough to handle it.) 212.16-7: “ripe before reason:” neither rhyme nor reason 212.17: “vinedress:” winepress; goes with “grapes.” Because of the close association, both in FW and in general, between red wine and blood, this is another allusion to menstruation. As a dress made of vines, compare this to the green dress of leaves noted above at 202.3. Also, probably an allusion here to a line from “The Battle Hymn of the Republic:” “He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored,” which in turn draws on the Revelations prophecy that God in his wrath will return to “tread out the winepress,” that is crush all sinners. Again: blood, blood, blood. Hovering in the background is the familiar conceit that the Genesis curse visited on women was menstruation as well as the pain of labor. 212.18: “befond her tears:” by way of Latin fundus, bottom, Wordsworth’s “too deep for tears.” 212.18: “Shem, her penmight:” The pen is mightier than the sword. Also, pen mate, pen pal: ALP and Shem are collaborators on FW’s letter. 212.20: “dusind:” according to Derek Attridge, the Umsidusi River in South Africa, commonly abbreviated as “Dusi.” 212.22: “crinoline:” derives from Latin for “hair” – ALP’s hair, as elsewhere identified with the river or with bodies of water in general 212.23: “porkbarrel seal:” the seal on a barrel of salted pork 212.24: “plague:” French plage - shore or beach 212.25: “I’ll raft it back:” 1. float it back, like a raft; 2. “reft:” take by force 212.31: "dvine:" Dean Swift, gone mad: the spelling signifies some such expression as "not all there." Testimony to follow will confirm. 212.31-2: “estheryear’s marsh narcissus:” the narcissus blooms in March. Oil of narcissus is sometimes an ingredient of perfumes. 212.32: “narcissus to make him recant his vanitty fair:” Narcissus died from vanity. 212.33: “foul strips:” I think the logic here is that the paper snuff-stained cornets are made out of strips torn from the Bible – enough to disgust any pious lady, not even considering that the Bible in question, being Dean Swift's, is Protestant. Perhaps also an echo of “full stops” 213.2: “Ditto on the Floss:" from a mishearing of the preceding: “old” (.1), and “Mill” (.2) and “On Woman” (.2), selectively heard amid deafness and water-noise, become mashed up with Mill “on the Floss” (.2) as an old man named Miller on top of a floozie (or floozies) hence “Ja, a swamp for Altmuehler [old Miller] and a stone for his flossies! I know how racy they move his wheel” (.2-3). “Racy,” aside from meaning risqué, comes from the associative link to “mill race,” as does “stone” from “millstone.” A stone, probably, because of tradition of stoning adulteresses 213.4: “My hands are blawcauld between isker and suda:” compare “Calypso:” “sodachapped hands.” 213.4: “blawcauld:” blue from the cold, but “cauldron” derives from the Latin for “hot bath.” That freezing water could make one’s hands feel hot was one of Bruno’s favorite examples of the coincidence of contraries. 213.8-9: “But O gihon! I lovat a gabber:” may be relevant that this particular river is one of the four rivers running out of Eden mentioned in Genesis. "Gibon" means “gushing,” which certainly seems to fit the case here. (Compare 215.15 and note.) In any event, I think that what she’s saying is, “Oh, go on! I love a gabber!” – “gabber” meaning, first and foremost, someone who gabs a lot. Nothing necessarily sinister or fraudulent seems to be implied. 213.9-10: “Regn onder river. Flies do your float.” Weirdly, I think these two sentences go together. The flies who float on water are the water-striders of, for instance, Yeats’s poem “Long-legged Fly,” and the points where the ends of their legs meet the water tension of the stream resemble the spots where raindrops meet water surface. So: “Flies, do your float!” something along the order of “a Busby Berkeley-ish “Girls, go into your dance!” Also, probably, addressed to fly-fishers 213.9-10: “Thick is the life for mere:” Meres – swamps – are thick. Although “This is the life for me” (McHugh) hardly seems in keeping for the kind of life she’s living, at the moment she’s genuinely happy, trading gossip with her neighbor “gabber.” 213.14: “and my cold cher’s gone ashley:” My cold (because dead) sweetheart (French cher) has been cremated. Also, my gold hair’s gone ashy – that is, ash-colored. Joyce’s notes (see McHugh): “At this point the woman who is to be turned into a tree [an ash tree, evidently] sees herself pictured upside down in the water, in the form that she takes later.” May recall a favorite story (Ellmann (1984), pp. 644-5) about an old woman from the Blasket Islands who, coming across the first mirror she has ever seen, is repelled at the sight: “Ach, it’s nothing but an old woman!” According to Google Images, ash trees become either bare or white in the winter. (As for gold hair, see 615.24.) 213.14: “What age is at:” what age is that? See previous entry. 213.15-6: “’Tis endless now senne eye or erewone last saw Waterhouse’s clogh. They took it asunder, I hurd thum sigh.” According to John Wyse Jackson and Bernard McGinley in their James Joyce’s Dubliners, Waterhouse’s Clock was “One of Dublin’s landmarks and rendezvous points” – something like New York’s Biltmore clock in the 1920s. Waterhouse shut down in 1904 - the year its clock was taken “asunder.” (Not at all likely a coincidence that Joyce left Ireland in that year.) So it has been a long time since her eye or anyone else’s has seen it. One of many signs that FW is set on some date well after the year of Ulysses 213.18-9: “There’s the Belle for Sexaloitez:” parallel with the burning of the Bögge, Sechseläuten, Zurich’s spring festival, features his replacement, the “Goddess of Spring.” During Joyce’s time in Zurich, Sechseläuten was commemorated on the first Monday after the vernal equinox. (March 21, 1938, my candidate for FW’s default date, would, almost uniquely, have been both: a Monday, and the first day of spring.) 213.19: “Aches-les-Pains:” aches and pains. People so afflicted would want to go to (see McHugh) some such spa as Aix-les-Bains - for example Nora, who suffered from arthritis. Joyce, in a July 28, 1934 letter: "My wife is making a cure of baths which, I think, will do her good." 213.20: “Wring in the dew!:” Dusk is when dew starts to form, because (.23) it’s turning chilly. 213.24-6: “A man and his bride embraced between them. Else I’d have sprinkled and folded them only. only:” the sheets are stained red from the bridal night. That’s why she has to give them an extra washing. 213.27: “strollers:” baby strollers, i.e. prams 213.27: “suety:” covered with suet, as a butcher’s apron would naturally be, plus “sooty,” from the city 213.27-8: “hold to the fire:” 1. to dry them out; 2. to read invisible ink. Goes with the spying implications of “code.” (See Joyce quote in McHugh.) Semen was sometimes used as invisible ink. 213.29: “Good mother Jossiph knows:” God knows. Godmother. Nora’s middle name was Joseph. Overtone of gossip (McHugh): either in modern sense or original meaning of a woman’s best woman friend. 213.31-2: “gloria be to them farther:” compare Stephen’s sardonic comment, in “Oxen of the Sun,” on a mother and baby supposed to have died together in childbirth: “Both babe and parent now glorify their Maker.” The strong implication is that the abovementioned, including the baby with the “shawl” (.29), have died. 213.33: “Allaluvial, allaluvial:” your annotator has spent some time in Muslim countries. This sounds to me like a muezzin’s call to prayer (in this case, at sundown). (Also, compare “alla,”as in Allah, in next line.) Compare 235.6-8. Note: it follows directly on the end of a Christian prayer (.32-3). 213.34-6: “And all the Dunders de Dunnes…takes number nine in yangsee’s hats:” 1. Number 9 is a big hat size. 2. Someone with a “big head” could be either a) (phrenologically) exceptionally intelligent, b) a “swelled head” – someone with a high opinion of himself, or c) hung over. 3. “Yangsee’s hats” brings in the Chinese, who compared to Caucasians (including the Irish) have small heads. 4. Therefore an Irishman, whatever the reason for his largish head, would have an even higher opinion of himself when trying on a Chinese hat. In context, “Dunders de Dunnes” signifies something on the order of “high mucky-muck.” In Joyce’s time as in ours, Martha’s Vineyard (see .35 and note) was a venue for the rich and fashionable. For context, compare "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle," in which Sherlock Holmes assesses someone's intelligence by the size of his hat. 213.34-5: “Dunders de Dunnes:” the Danes who settled, for a while, in Vineland. (Wishful-thinkingly misnamed: they thought the currants were wine grapes.) See next entry 213.35: “Markland’s Vineland:” Martha’s Vineyard, an island off the coast of Massachusetts. (A way aways from "Vineland" - but still, from across the Atlantic, plausibly in the same area) 213.35-214.1: “one of Biddy’s beads:” given the usual associations with “biddy,” both in FW and in general, almost certainly a rosary bead. See entries for 214.1 and 214.4. 214.1: “went bobbing:” because, being made of oak (210.29) it floated. 214.1: “rounded up:” wound up. Also: rosary beads are round, and one says the rosary by going around it. Compare note to .4. 214.3: “manzinahurries off Bachelor’s Walk:” Patrick Parrinder and Sheldon Brivic both read this as a public urinal, in the vicinity of Dublin’s Bachelor’s Walk, toward which a distressed man is hurrying. Seems plausible – in “Lestrygonians” Bloom imagines a man “on the q. t. running in to loosen a button” of his fly, heading for a public urinal – but whether there was any such convenience “off Bachelor’s Walk” is something I haven’t been able to determine. 214.4: “loup of the years:” given that each division of the rosary is a “decade,” the whole might plausibly be called a “loop of the years.” 214.8: “respund to spond:” as in, call and response 214.8-9: “I need, I need!:” Indeed, indeed 214.10: “the lethest zswound:” imitative form: the sound is being muffled by the wadding in her ears. (Secondary level: wadding for (mortal) wound; crossing Lethe. Compare the imagined misbirth of “Proteus,” “hushed in ruddy wool.”) 214.11-6: “Is that the great Finnleader himself in his joakimono on his statue riding the high horse…You’re thinking of Astley’s Amphitheayter where the bobby restrained you making sugarstuck pouts to the ghostwhite horse of the Peppers:” three scenes here with horses prominent: 1. the almanac picture sent from Findlater’s (332.32-4): hunter on horse before an inn, being served a “stirrup cup;” 2. equestrian statue of William of Orange (hence “on his statue” (.11)), in Joyce’s day stationed in front of Trinity College; 3. Willingdone’s “white harse” (8.17), in turn from the Waterloo tableau of a A Royal Divorce, the popular play being performed at the beginning of I.2. It featured a “Pepper’s ghost” special effect (.15-6) and debuted in the London venue which had once been Astley’s Amphitheatre (.14), known for its “all horserie” (32.35) shows. (As Mink and McHugh note, Astley’s also had a Dublin branch.) Also, “forehengist” (.12) incorporates horses in two ways: first, because hingst is Danish for stallion, second, because Hengist is routinely paired with Horsa. All in all, a constellation of tokens of Ascendancy arrogance, connected to FW’s male principal, who “still” has a Unionist white horse inscribed in the fanlight over his establishment’s front door (262.22-3). 214.13: “Yonne there!:” Yonder 214.14: “Amphitheayter:” In America, “theayter” would be considered a vulgar pronunciation of “theatre.” The same in Ireland? 214.16-8: “Throw the cobwebs from your eyes, woman, and spread your washing proper! It’s well I know your sort of slop. Flap! Ireland sober is Ireland stiff:” at least up to “stiff,” this is one of the two women answering back to the charge that she behaved improperly in public while under the influence. See next two entries. 214.18-9: "Lord help you Maria, full of grease, the load is with me!:" the words of the Angelus, as recited at sunset - in this case, at 6:00 p.m. As McHugh notes, the bell heard ringing for Sechseläuten on the previous page (213.17) also sounds at 6:00 p.m. Again, this would be consistent with a date set at the vernal equinox. 214.20: “Were you lifting your elbow:” copare .16-8 and note: part of the response to the response: were you bending your elbow too? 214.20: “glazy cheeks:” in context, a symptom of inebriation or alcoholism 214.22: “rere gait’s:” in the America of my childhood, “rear gate” and “rear door” were slang for exposed buttocks. Would go with “butts,” in the same line 214.22: "creekorheuman:" Greek or Roman: i.e., ancient. The “rheum” embedded in “creakorheuman” goes with the general theme of ancient, creaky, decrepitude. 214.23: “marthared mary allacook:” Martha and Mary. (Martha is the busy one who gets rebuked.) As “allacook,” she’s the kitchen drudge. (Connects her to Kate.) Also, martyred Mary. 214.23-4: “Corrigan’s pulse and varicoarse veins:” pulse: edible peas or lentils: was proverbial for the sort of minimal fare eaten by hermits, ascetics, etc. Goes with the regimen of St Margaret Mary Alacoque, noted in McHugh. Also: medically, an overactive pulse would contribute to varicose veins. 214.24: “pramaxle:” perhaps obvious: the axle of the wheel of a perambulator 214.26: “boiler rags:” Google has nothing for this, but a “rag-boiler” is “a closed vessel in which rags are boiled under a slight pressure in the paper-making process.” 214.31-33: “golden..Icis…ass:” In The Golden Ass of Apuleius, the speaker, having been transformed into an ass, encounters the goddess Isis (rising from the sea) and prays to be turned back into human form. The scenario will return at the beginning of Book III, also set on the Liffey bank, introduced by the same ass. 214.32-3: “What is it but a blackberry growth:” mistaken for a white horse: makes sense if some of the white washing has been hung on a blackberry bush. See next item. 214.33: “dwyergray ass:” also mistaken, this time for a grey horse. Compare Don Quixote: “will your worship tell me what are we to do with this dapple-grey steed that looks like a grey ass?” Probably just a matter of shading (it’s getting dark) and perspective. Also, see .36 and note. (Speaking of mistakes, she may be thinking of the Sackville/O’Connell Street statue - grayish-white, according to the pictures available on Google Images - not of Edmund Dwyer Gray but of his grandfather, Sir John Gray. 214.33-5: “Are you meanam Tarpey and Lyons and Gregory, I meyne now, thank all, the four of them:” another disagreement: the three named are Matthew, Mark, and Luke, called the “synoptics” (see, e.g. 367.17) because their narratives are mutually congruent in a way that John’s is not. Speaker number two wants John included. 214.36: “that stray in the mist:” again, the ass; again, with attention to circumstantial optics: the “mist” helps explain why it’s being misperceived. (For one thing, mist can magnify, as, famously, with the Spectre of the Brocken.) 215.4: “eve:” evening 215.6: “chart:” star chart 215.6-7: “where the blue milk’s upset:” Milky Way, coming into view. Compare “Ithaca:” “the heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.” 215.7: “Forgivemequick:” that is, hurry up and absolve me before I die. 215.10: “sow home:” go home. Given “Towy” in the next line, could these ways be along the tow paths of the canals? Rathmines (“rathmine” in the next line) borders on the Royal Canal. 215.13: “trinkettoes:” twinkletoes: a nimble dancer 215.15ff.: "Hadn't he seven dams:" tradition (Aeneid VI.800, Metamorphoses I.422, Paradise Lost XII.158) that the Nile delta consists of seven mouths 215.17: “And each hue had a differing cry:” synesthesia 215.20-1: “their pinky limony creamy birnies and their turkiss indienne mauves:” apparently an incomplete, pastel exhibition of the seven red-orange-yellow-blue-green-indigo-violet hues stipulated at .17. “Pinky:” reddish; “limony:” lemony: yellowish; “turkiss:” turquois: bluish; “indienne:” indigo; “mauve:” purplish. Unless they can be somehow accommodated by “creamy birnies” – and your annotator for one can’t see how - orange and green seem to be missing. 215.21: “turkiss indienne:” American Indian jewelry is often made from turquoise. 215.21-2: “milkidmass…fair:” Michaelmas Fair. (Much display of wares: goes with “markets,” above.) 215.25: “howmulty plurators:” multiplicators, i.e. multipliers: can apply to prodigious breeders 215.26: “eure:” compare 191.4 – the charge that Shem has been “Europasianised.” 215.31-2: “Flittering bats, fieldmice bawk talk.” "Flitter-mouse" is an Elizabethan idiom for a bat. In “Nausicaa,” which also occurs at dusk, a bat comes out, and Bloom compares it to a mouse. "Bawk talk:" backtalk, the echolocation (from what in “Nausicaa” is a “ba” sound), bouncing back from nearby objects, that allows bats to navigate. Also heard, I think, in “Whawk?” (215.30) – compare “bawk of bats” (215.33). 215.33: “Thom Malone:” to me, sounds like “Tom-all-Alone’s,” the pestilential slum of Bleak House. (As remarked elsewhere – e.g. note to 171.31 – Joyce was familiar with Dickens’ work.) 215.35: “yonder elm…Shaun or Shem:” I think the latter is a mishearing of the former. The same thing is happening with the sequence “tittering daughters of,” “chittering waters of,” “liffeying waters of,” and “Livia’s daughtersons.” 215.36: “Dark hawks hear us:” admittedly a long shot, this: an invocation to (Saint) Dorcas, a.k.a. Tabitha, biblical widow and patroness of women doing good works. I think that Dorcas put in an appearance at 470.7. Brewer notes the charitable “Dorcas Society,” named for the woman “who made coats and garments for widows.” |