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.
75.5: “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
76.28: “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’ 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.
78.15-8: “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.
78.24: “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. 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 “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 way a lone a lost a last."
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.
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).
81.3: “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.
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, 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 deValera (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:” ill-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. 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 colour 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 public seat, to what, bare by Butt’s:” 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…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: “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.
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,” “cicera:” 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:” gist: 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.
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 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 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! 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.
96.14: “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
96.35: “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: “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.
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: 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